Another Request from Master Darios
by Jennifer Harrison

Author's Note: As you will read below, I misbehaved and was instructed to perform and then recount an extremely embarrassing (yet arousing) bondage adventure for a good friend of my Master who resides in the U.S. With His permission I will include His request so as to set the stage for my recount. slave jenny xxx

(Please note: Master Darios writes under the pen name mrhungry, please check out his stories)

My dear slave jenny,

It has come to My attention that you have been gossiping about Me with persons unknown to Me and without My approval. As this is not your station to do, and in penance, I require you to perform for me. I have a little scenario in mind I would like you to act out. It involves you going to Covent Garden in London and performing a little street theatre – with a bondage theme, of course. I will give you more details when I have arranged things with your Master, but I am sure it is a challenge you will rise to wonderfully.

Master Darios

Master Darios,

Thank you for Your command, this slave lives to satisfy Your desires, she hopes You are entertained by her efforts. She begs Your forgiveness for using the first person, as if she were a free woman, but it makes it more personal.

The whole thing started off strangely and just got weirder, if that’s a word. When I received that email, I immediately panicked – this sounded like public bondage, maybe even public nudity! And very public at that – Covent Garden is a mecca for tourists in London, and they’re all there to see the street performances – jugglers, mime artists, sword swallowers, all sorts. There would be hundreds, maybe thousands, of people around. I had run around on Salisbury Plain and that had been scary enough, this was a whole order of magnitude worse!

I went to my Master and begged him to ask Master Darios to reconsider. He reminded me, with the flogger AND the cane, that slaves must not ask, or even beg, for anything from their master. An hour later, He came and granted me permission to email Master Darios, to beg for His forgiveness if I wanted to.

But when it came to it, with my bottom and my breasts still sore from the beating, I bottled out, and just sent him a message saying ‘This slave will obey whatever you command her to do.’ The reply I got really confused me:

“Slave Jenny – I am not going to command you to do this, but it would please me if you did. I will not punish you, or ask your Master to punish you, if you don’t do this.”

What? I could decide whether I did this or not? But slaves don’t get to decide, that’s what being a slave is all about – someone else making the decisions, ‘forcing’ you to do things you wouldn’t normally do to satisfy your Master and, if you’re lucky, getting some satisfaction too. I didn’t want to make the decision, so I emailed back:

“Master Darios – this slave will do anything to please you.”

He replied: “Slave Jenny – would it please you to do this?”

I suddenly realised what he was doing – he wanted me to admit to him, and to myself, that this ‘Master-slave’ thing was more than just him giving me orders and me obeying them. I had to submit to him – I had to want to be his slave.

“Master Darios – it would please this slave to do this.”

“Beg me.”

“Master Darios – this slave begs to be allowed to humiliate herself in public for your pleasure.”

“Okay, I’ll allow you to do that for Me.”

The next morning, Saturday, I was surprised when my best friend, Sally, turned up at the door to my flat.

“Hi, Sally, come in, have a coffee,” I said, smiling, as I showed her in. She turned to me as soon as she was inside, and she wasn’t smiling.

“Strip off, slave!” she ordered.

I swallowed hard. This was the first time she had spoken to me like this since she had found me naked and tied up on the floor, right where she was standing. I’d thought she’d kind of forgotten that whole embarrassing incident, but clearly not. I was dressed in slippers, jeans and a sweatshirt – come on, weekend casual! – and I quickly pulled them off. I gave her a questioning look, she gave me a hard stare, and I took off my bra and pants, leaving me standing there in front of her nude and totally embarrassed.

I’ve always been self-conscious about my body. I have ginger (‘strawberry blonde’, my hairdresser calls it) hair and freckles, quite large boobs (D-cup) that have started the long journey south – I’m 35 for Christ’s sake (36 now actually, but who’s counting?) – my tummy has never been washboard flat and firm, and I have a little cellulite at the back of my thighs (so does Angelina Jolie, they just airbrush it out!). Sally, on the other hand, is 29 (no, really), works out, and is gorgeous – tall, long blonde hair, tight figure, nicely proportioned tits and arse. So I felt intimidated as well as inadequate, standing in front of her, naked, while she looked me up and down.

“Put these on,” she ordered, holding out a bikini top and bottom. I felt a little thrill of excitement when I realised they were made of black latex – I’d never worn latex before. I’d like to say it hugged me like a second skin, but there was so little of it – the top covered by nipples and the bottom my pussy, but that really was about all – that I couldn’t say it was tight. Somehow, I felt more exposed, more naked, with the bikini on than not.

Sally marched through to my bedroom and riffled through my wardrobe, picking out a white blouse and black pencil skirt I wear for work, plus some 3 inch heels. Once I had put these on, she said ‘Come!’ and led me out of the flat. I picked up my handbag on the way, but she told me to take the keys and put the bag back. Once I’d locked the door, she took the keys off me and put them in her bag. So far, I had said nothing since she called me ‘slave’, I had no idea where she was taking me, and I was as excited as anything!

It wasn’t until she pulled her car into the railway station that I realised Sally must be acting out Master Darios’ scenario, confirmed when she bought two return tickets to London. There was a heavy holdall and something that looked like a tent bag to be carried onto the train, so no guesses who was required to do the carrying. It wasn’t until we were sat on the train and on our way that I really started to think about what was going on. I was wearing a latex bikini under these clothes and I knew that, at some point, I would be required to show it off. Just the thought of doing that made me feel sick with anticipated embarrassment, but also giddy with excitement. And that would probably be the least of my humiliations. I could feel my face burning and, although Sally was trying to engage me in conversation, I had no idea what she was saying.

The journey seemed to fly by, and it seemed like no time before we were on the underground, and then strolling through Covent Garden itself. I thought I was having a heart attack, my heart was thumping so hard as I looked at all the performers, knowing that, all too soon, I would be there with them, nearly naked! I was in a daze, and had no idea where we were going or what we were doing.

“Here will do,” Sally said as she stopped. I looked around and thought I was going to be sick. We had a little clearing, but to our left was a man of maybe 20 juggling seven batons while riding a unicycle, while to our right, another student type was playing the violin – rather well, to my untrained ear. But what scared me was all the people wandering by, or watching the acts. I was feeling the bile rising and I was literally shaking with nerves – surely I couldn’t go through with this?

Sally opened the holdall and took out the most ridiculous shoes I’d ever seen (in real life, not counting in porn movies on the Internet) – they were silver and sparkling, with about 4 inch platforms and 7 or 8 inch heels, so not much more steep than my current shoes, but I’d feel like I was on stilts with them on! Sally handed them to me and told me to put them on, then, to my surprise, she pulled a laptop from the bag. I sat on a bench just off the pavement and pointed my toes into the shoe as I wondered what she could possibly be doing with a laptop.

As I struggled into the shoes, I noticed people had stopped and were watching me – they could see a new act was setting up and were intrigued enough to give it a couple of minutes. I eventually stood, balancing on the platforms, feeling ridiculous and extremely self-conscious as I felt the stares of the small crowd. Meanwhile, Sally had the computer set up and turned it to face me. I was shocked to see the Skype symbol of Master Darios on the screen – he had never let me see his face, but I knew he would be watching me through the webcam. I didn’t know what to do and, embarrassingly, my automatic reaction was to drop a curtsey!

Sally told me to hold the laptop and then, to my total surprise, started unbuttoning her jeans. She whipped them off, and the top she was wearing, and suddenly she was standing next to me dressed head to toe in shiny black latex! Now, that really was skin-tight, and she looked like she was naked, but had been dipped in oil. The catsuit was low cut, showing off her very impressive cleavage, and clung to her buttocks so tightly it was clear she was wearing nothing underneath. Suddenly, the crowd had got bigger and a lot more attentive. She took the laptop and placed it on the holdall so that the integral webcam was pointing at me, allowing Master Darios to see the whole scene.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” she called out, “For your entertainment today, let me introduce the sublime, the sexy, the sultry, the so, so submissive Suzi!” She flourished her arms in my direction and I realised she was referring to me, changing my name, either to protect my identity, or for comic alliterative effect, I wasn’t sure which. There was a round of applause from the crowd, a few cheers, and a couple of wolf whistles. I didn’t think I could go any redder, but I managed it, and I wondered if I might faint.

“Now,” she went on, smiling and confident, “As I am sure you are all aware, we, your street performers, are all here to make money. However, today, for one night only, all the money we raise will go to Children in Need!” There was a smattering of applause, and I think a few people drifted away – obviously not in a charitable mood!

“So, if you would like to see submissive Suzi remove her skirt,” Sally went on, “please deposit some money in the bag.” She indicated the holdall, and a shower of coins flew in its direction. I felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights, as the crowd stared at me expectantly – the idea of stripping for them just horrified me, I couldn’t do it.

“Come along then, ‘Susan’, these good people have paid for you to remove your skirt, so …” I could feel the sweat now, breaking out on my brow and under my arms.

If I thought I might be able to back out, now was the time. But I glanced over at the laptop, saw Master Darios’ Skype symbol and remembered how I had begged Him to allow me to humiliate myself for His pleasure. Had I just been saying those words to please Him at the time? My heart ached from wanting to do something that I knew He desired, but going this far? I knew I had set these wheels in motion – I had allowed myself to brag about knowing Master Darios, had in fact talked about Him as though I was just a normal person speaking about a friend, rather than his willing submissive, a sex slave who knew, deep down, that she needed, wanted, to be punished. But whether I should be punished was not the issue here; the issue was whether I was prepared to submit myself fully to His desires, or not. I looked out at the sea of faces staring at me, waiting, expecting, demanding, and knew this was the moment of truth for me. I’ve never wanted to back out of anything as much as I wanted to back out right then. But…

Slowly, I reached behind me and, with very shaky hands, unzipped my skirt, released the clip, lowered it to the ground, and stepped out of it. Sally held out her hand, and I gave the skirt to her, watching helplessly as she put it away in the holdall. Another round of applause from the audience as they could now see my bare legs, but nothing underneath, as the blouse came down just far enough to hide the bikini bottoms, although my bottom was not quite hidden, and they could see I certainly wasn’t wearing big, safe, all-covering knickers. I tried to pull the tail of the blouse down, but that was pretty futile.

“Anyone want to see Susan remove her blouse?” Sally called out, and another flurry of coins flew into the bag. I noticed the violin had stopped, and it was suddenly very quiet. I was still feeling sick with embarrassment, but I was committed now, and slowly I raised my hands and began to undo the buttons. The violin started again, and I realised it was playing a rather classy version of ‘The Stripper’! With the buttons all unfastened, I held the blouse closed for a moment, reluctant to take that final step and show this big group of people what I was wearing underneath. The sweat was definitely running now, as Sally held out her hand expectantly. Please don’t make me do this, I begged with my eyes, but Sally merely smiled and waited – it had to be my own choice to proceed.

I awkwardly tried to take off the blouse without showing anything, which was impossible, but I ended up with it in one hand, over my boobs, while the other covered my groin. There was another cheer, mainly from behind me, and I realised my arse was entirely uncovered by the thong. I turned around to hide my buttocks, but of course, that just displayed them to the people in front, and now they cheered! I wobbled atop the sparkly silver platforms, suddenly losing my balance and had to throw my hands out to steady myself. In doing so, I revealed my ridiculously tiny bikini to the cheering crowd, before I turned awkwardly once again to stand beside my erstwhile friend, now my tormentor.

Reluctantly, I handed the blouse to Sally and watched it disappear into the bag. She leaned in to me and whispered.

“Smile, Jenny, and give the people a show. Put one hand on your hip and hold the other one out. Sashay a little. Work it!” I knew I looked utterly ridiculous standing there, a thirtysomething woman posing like a model, dressed in three strips of shiny latex, it was a horrible, sick joke. My cheeks were blazing, and I think the blush probably went further, onto my chest – but that was not all embarrassment, I had to admit, some of it was excitement as well. I looked at the faces around me and saw they were surprised, shocked, stunned, but universally smiling and happy. It kind of boosted my confidence a little – no-one seemed to be judging me, either for my cellulite or my lewd behaviour.

“I need a volunteer!” Sally called out, and a forest of (male) hands went up, “But it has to be someone good at DIY.” Maybe a few hands went down but not many, and Sally strutted around in her latex catsuit and stilettos, evaluating the volunteers, running her long finger over puffed-out chests, feeling biceps. Eventually she picked someone she clearly thought the hottest young man there, and she took his hand, leading him into the little circle and making him stand uncomfortably close to me. He was rather gorgeous – designer stubble, short black hair, white t-shirt stretched over a muscly chest, tight jeans with a significant bulge … I was probably old enough to be his mother but, what the hell, I’d have gone with him if he asked me, and if it hadn’t been for the two hundred people surrounding us.

Sally asked him his name (Ryan) and if he liked ‘the lovely Suzi’ (yes, he said in a rather gravely, sexy voice). She picked up the tent bag and asked him to unpack and assemble the contents. It seemed to be just a stack of black steel tubes, but Ryan, after looking at the assembly instructions, had a broad grin on his face and started work enthusiastically.

It didn’t take long to build and, when it was done, I felt my heart rate and excitement level jump alarmingly. It was just a pole, about six feet high, attached to a tripod base, with a couple of cross pieces attached. However, the cross-pieces were at ankle and waist height, and both had leather cuffs at either end. There was also a rather wider leather strap at neck height. I had a bad feeling about this – surely this couldn’t be what I thought it was? Master Darios surely wasn’t expecting me to allow myself to be bound in front of all these people? He couldn’t be that cruel, could he?

“Thank you, Ryan. A round of applause for Ryan, please!” Ryan went back into the crowd, wreathed in smiles.

“Now, would you like to see …” Sally didn’t get any further before she was almost stoned by the shower of coins, and a couple of men stepped forward to drop notes into the holdall. With an even broader smile as she turned to see my wide-eyed, open-mouthed look, rather akin to a stunned mullet, she gently moved me backwards until I was standing with the pole against my back.

No, no, no, I rebelled, I can’t do this, I can’t allow this! It was one thing to be submissive to my Master, or even Master Darios, who I had never even seen. But here I was, being asked to prove my submissiveness in front of a crowd of strangers. I would rather be whipped mercilessly, but in private, than forced to stand here and be strapped, unresisting, to this frame. But somehow, I didn’t run away, but just stood there and let Sally do it…

Sally went down on her haunches, pulled at my legs until my feet were far enough apart, and buckled the cuffs around my ankles. As I watched in mute horror, she produced (God knows where from, she had no pockets) a couple of small padlocks, and fastened the cuffs in place. As she straightened up, she looked into my face, bright red and sweating freely now, and I saw the look of devilment in her eyes – not evil, not nasty, just saying ‘You’re mine now, darling, just enjoy the ride’. I was somewhere between crying, screaming, fainting, and cumming. The conflicting emotions kept me entirely unresisting as she pulled my arms behind my back and cuffed my wrists to the much shorter bar at my waist. The feel of the strap around my neck seemed to wake me from my trance, but of course, it was too late by then. I pulled uselessly at the padlocked straps, and let out a quiet little moan of … what? Abject terror? Arousal? Both? Oh God, I suddenly realised I had to concentrate very hard to stop myself peeing! Just a sea of faces in front of me, smiling, lustful, hungry faces…

Sally went to the holdall and, as she bent to rummage in there, presenting me and most of the crowd with a perfect view of her exquisite latex-clad arse, I felt another wave of fear and excitement – what the hell was she going to do to me next? When she straightened up, she was displaying to us all a black leather strap, with a bright red ball in the middle of it. Oh my God…

“Would you like…” Money rained down before she could say another word. She sashayed over to me.

“Open wide, Suzi,” she said, making sure everyone heard. I close my eyes and opened my mouth, wondering why I was doing this, but unable to either stop myself or to just say ‘NO!’. I felt the ball push in – it was a big one – and it was trapped behind my teeth before Sally did the strap as tight as she could. She went back to the bag and bent down, making me even more nervous – each time she dipped into that bloody holdall, my situation got worse (or better, depending on your point of view).

“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” she announced as she straightened up, “the frame that our super-submissive Suzi is now very firmly strapped to is called a ‘Forced Orgasm Tower’.” As she said this, a hubbub started in the crowd and I heard an ‘Alright!’ from the back.

“Would anyone like to see her cum?” This caused an uproar of cheers, clapping, shouts and whoops of delight. As Sally turned to look at me with that naughty smile, I saw what was in her hand – a wand vibrator! I shook my head from side to side, pleading with my eyes for her not to use it – this was way, way too much! We were definitely going to get arrested for this!

“Aw, she doesn’t want to do it, ladies and gentlemen, what a shame!” Sally gave me a mock sad look and the crowd gave a mass ‘Aww’, and I heard someone shout ‘Do it to her anyway!’ Rather more alarmingly, someone hissed ‘Watch out! It’s the police!’

Sally quickly put the vibrator back in the holdall as two police officers, a man and a woman, pushed their way through the crowd and into our little oasis of space. The policewoman was a short, stumpy figure, with a deep scowl of disapproval on her face. The policeman was a tall guy, quite a bit older than the woman (and me, for that matter), and had a smile on his face as he looked me up and down.

“What’s going on here?” the woman asked Sally with deep suspicion.

“It’s called street theatre,” Sally replied, with a sweet smile, “there’s a lot of it around here.” The policewoman gave her a death-at-twenty-paces look.

“Well, you can’t do THAT here, it’s obscene.”

“I’m sorry, officer, what exactly is obscene about it?” The crowd were now enjoying this little scene almost as much as the rest of the show. I felt like I would die of embarrassment – or wish I did.

“She’s practically naked!” the policewoman spat, indicating me with distaste.

“But she’s wearing a bikini,” Sally said reasonably, “there’s a woman over there in a bikini, belly-dancing. Are you going to stop her as well?”

“That’s different, she’s decent.” The woman was clearly losing her temper.

“Is that a comment on her dress, her behaviour, or her morals?” I thought Sally was pushing her luck now, but I could see the policeman’s shoulders shaking with laughter.

“The bikini covers all the bits it needs to,” Sally pointed out.

“How come she’s gagged and locked to that post?” the woman asked, changing her point of attack.

“She’s an escapologist!” Sally exclaimed triumphantly, “You wouldn’t arrest Houdini would you? Even the Victorians weren’t that prudish!”

The policewoman looked as if she was ready to hit Sally, but her colleague stepped in. He moved forward and asked me a question.

“Excuse me, Miss, but are you being forced or coerced to do this, or in any other way being held against your will?”

I knew this was my chance to escape being forced to cum in front of this crowd. Then I caught sight of the laptop – Master Darios was watching, waiting, judging. Was I really prepared to be humiliated this way just to entertain a man I’d never even met? I glanced at Sally, then vigorously shook my head.

“In that case, I suggest you carry on. Good luck getting free, love,” he said, and winked at me. The policewoman was about to protest, but he walked off into the crowd and, after a last scowl at me and then Sally, she followed. The crowd applauded, cheered, and someone shouted ‘Piss off, pigs!’

“Now, where were we?”

The crowd gave another cheer, someone shouted ‘Make her cum!’, and Sally got the wand vibrator out again. I hadn’t noticed before, but there was a metal rod which came off the main stand and pointed, worryingly, towards my pussy. Sally fixed the vibrator to this rod and adjusted it until it was pressing hard against my latex-covered groin. I tried to go up on my toes, to straighten my legs more, to back away from it, anything to get it away from my body, but every time I found even a fraction of an inch of slack, Sally adjusted it to press it even more firmly against my pussy. Once she was happy with its position, she put her hands on either side of the latex and pressed down with her thumbs, moving them out to the side. This had the effect of opening my labia and exposing my clitoris to the vibrator. I looked down, convinced the crowd would be able to see my bud through the thin rubber, but the large head of the vibrator hid it from view.

“So, all we need now is some money for Children in Need,” Sally said, but the money was already there.

“Let’s start her off on Low,” she said as she turned the vibrator on.

As I felt the vibrations directly on my clitoris, I let out a shout of … well, expressing everything I was feeling right then – embarrassment, humiliation, shock, disbelief, and a very strong arousal. The only consequence of this, though, was to force a great gob of saliva past the ballgag and down my chin, then onto my chest, before slowly making its way down across my stomach to the area where I was really having to concentrate hard to stop myself cumming. I couldn’t allow that to happen, not here, not in front of all these people! The sensations attacking my clitoris were so intense that I began to panic, but with the panic came the memory of my Master’s voice, instructing me as He had done so often in the past… ‘breathe deeply, concentrate on other sensations.’ It was not hard to do because, for one thing, my toes jammed into the small confines of those punishing shoes were beginning to hurt like hell. Somehow, I had begun to gain control over myself and to stop the nightmare from happening, thank God.

“Would anyone like to go for High?” I shot a look of horror at Sally and shook my head – there was no way I could take that! She came over to me and whispered in my ear.

“That’s why it’s called ‘Forced Orgasm’, darling. Just enjoy it.”

She didn’t bother to look to see if anyone had put any money in the bag, she just turned the vibrator up to high. I let out another howl as the vibes hit me, causing another torrent of drool to spill from my mouth and cascade down my front. I couldn’t stop it now, I was trying to squirm away from the vibrator but that was just making it worse, I was rocking on the stand to which I was bound, and I could hear the crowd, jeering, cheering, clapping, urging me on. I opened my eyes and saw them all staring at me, and that’s when it hit me. I arched my back and felt every muscle in my body tense, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, I felt like I was being electrocuted. It was intense, to say the least!

As the orgasm passed, my whole body reaction changed. I had wanted it so bad, but now it was over, I had to get away from the wand, as its continued vibrations irritated my over-sensitised pussy. Luckily, Sally not only recognised the symptoms, but took pity on me and switched off the wand, removed it from the stand and put it away. I slumped as tiredness washed over me, but I couldn’t slump very far with the collar around my neck holding me upright.

I looked over and saw Sally holding my skirt and blouse, and I felt incredibly relieved that this nightmare would soon be over. Okay, I’d enjoyed it, I couldn’t deny it, but I’d had enough. As I looked at the crowd, though, I could see they were disappointed and ready to move on.

“Okay, charity auction time!” Sally called out, and I looked around in astonishment. The crowd also perked up.

“How much am I bid for this fine skirt?” she asked.

“I’ll give you a tenner, love,” a bloke in the front row offered.

“Sold!” Sally cried, and exchanged his note for my skirt! Oh my God, what was I going to wear?!

“How about this lovely blouse?” Another ten pounds and that was gone too.

“And now,” Sally said as she walked over to me, “what am I bid for this lovely, latex bikini top?” Oh no, she couldn’t do that … could she?!

She could, and did. She let the bidding go up to £40 before she accepted. Then she stood directly in front of me, reached behind my neck and untied the halter. I looked pleadingly into her eyes, but there was no mercy there, just that devilment I had come to dread. She stepped back and, amid wild cheers and clapping, dropped the strings and exposed my nipples. She went behind me and unhooked the strap, removing the top altogether, and handed it to the lucky winner. Physically, I wasn’t much more naked than I had been moments before, but psychologically, I was stripped bare, totally exposed.

The bottoms went for £100. I was already mortified to be showing my tits, but when she pulled away the pathetically thin covering and revealed my shaved, puffy, wet cunt, I really wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. I had surely reached the nadir, I couldn’t be humiliated any more. But Sally had other ideas.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, show’s nearly over, but I don’t know, I feel submissive Suzi hasn’t really been submissive enough. What to do you think?” There was a chorus of ‘No’, more cheering, then someone shouted ‘Punish her!’

“My thought exactly!” Sally said as she pulled a flogger out of the bag. A flogger?! I couldn’t believe it, this was my best friend, treating me in the most degrading way possible, humiliating me in pubic like this. She had gone so far beyond my boundaries, they weren’t even in sight. But she still wasn’t done. She came over to me and lifted my chin with the handle of the flogger, so I was looking directly at the crowd.

“Now, Susan, let Master Darios and these good people know it is your desire to be punished, isn’t it?” I looked at all the eager faces. I had to deny it, I had to say ‘No more, let me go, this is NOT what I want!’ But I realised I couldn’t even convince myself of that. I nodded, getting a cheer in response.

“Good girl,” Sally said, then stepped away and took up position, legs apart, feet planted, arm drawn back.

“Oh, anyone willing to pay for this?”

I was watching the notes flutter down as the first blow came, so it took me by surprise, making me squeal as the leather fronds slapped across my breasts. The second hit me across the thighs and slightly on my pussy, making me scream and writhe in pain. I took another across the breasts. The flogging went on, the blows not particularly hard, but enough to make me writhe, and scream, and cry. And cum. Somehow, it was even more embarrassing to cum by being whipped than being vibrated – the crowd must have been thinking ‘What a sick bitch!’

“That’s all, folks!” I heard Sally saying, “Thank you so much for all your donations, rest assured, they will be going to Children in Need!”

There was wild cheering and applause as Sally finally released me. I sat down on the concrete, hugging my knees and hiding my face. I felt her put a blanket around my shoulders, and I could see the crowd dissipating. I felt like I was in a daze – nowhere near as upset as I should have been, and kind of glowing all over.

“Bravo, Jenny you were magnificent!” I looked up to see my Master standing over me.

“Look, I bought your clothes back, and I even brought these from home.” He was holding a regular bra and panties, along with my skirt and blouse.

“Thank you, Master,” I said, a sudden rush of warmth and pleasure at my Master’s words and for his consideration – after all, he could have left me naked.

Sally held the computer up so that I could see the words which had been typed by Master Darios – “Apology accepted” – before she closed the cover and slid it into the holdall.

Once again, I felt a rush of love and gratitude to my Masters – they both understood my most secret desires, so much better than me. The desire to be humiliated was an intense turn-on for me, and they had found that desire and fed it in the most creative way possible. If ever I had doubted my decision to submit myself to them, I doubted it no more. I knew I was their slave, forever.

Sally helped me get dressed while my Master dealt with an irate member of the street performers committee about our unlicensed performance. We spent the rest of the day sightseeing, had an evening meal at the Ritz, and even took in a West End show, before heading home in my Master’s car.

All in all, what a fantastic day!

The End

Copyright© 2011 by Jennifer Harrison. All rights reserved. I welcome your comments. Email me at bongopop63{at}btopenworld{dot}com