Kim’s New Life
Chapter 33 Her First Bike
Tuesday morning I was introduced to everyone as the new CIO and briefed on the facets of my new job. Other than that, it was a typical day at the office. In the afternoon I taught aspects of the new software to some additional departments. It felt good to get home and finally remove my clothes in the foyer. I found my Mistress waiting on the sofa, and recited the requisite words asking for permission to wear her collar.
“You have to earn the privilege tonight, pet. I’m horny,” she said, spreading her legs to invite me in. “I missed this last night.” Normally, I would take my time, bringing her to a slow, loving climax. However, because of her words, “Regretfully, we need to hurry, though, kimmy. I have already called our order in to Lisa’s so we won’t be late for bike class.” I had no idea what she was talking about but didn’t worry, because I was more interested in obeying her order. I literally attacked her clit with my lips and tongue. As soon as she climaxed, I was ordered to the bedroom.
“Your clothes are on the bed, pet.”
I was shocked to find only the jeans I had worn on Monday and a pair of white socks. In less than two minutes I was again kneeling in front of Kelly. “Mistress, I am not questioning you, but do you really think I should go to out like this?”
“Of course I don’t, pet, the rest of your outfit it in the hall closet. Bring whatever you find there, including the box on the floor, back to me.”
I carried three leather garments and the box back to the living room and, at Kelly’s direction, laid them on the sofa. She picked up a leather vest first and told me to put it on. I loved the feel of the silky lining against my bare skin. Next, she handed me the box. “Since you are going to be riding on your own for the first time tonight, dear, you should be properly dressed. Leather is the best protector for a motorcycle rider as you learned last night in class. While I admit that I am neglectful in this area while riding in town, I do wear leathers when riding long distances.”
Recognizing the purpose of my grin, she interjected, “Don’t you dare recite the fact that most accidents occur close to home.” She handed me a pair of leather chaps, while adding, “The vest and these chaps are mine. I am only loaning them to you for your class tonight. You will also have to wear my leather jacket when you actually ride the bike. While you don’t need the chaps until then, either, I want to see how they look on you. We will get you a set for yourself after you finish your class.”
After I tried the chaps on, she commented on how nice they looked on me, before correcting herself, “I meant to say how nice you look in them. I can’t wait to see how you look when wearing them without the jeans.” I thought the idea was quite exciting and wondered if I’d be riding her bike that way.
I removed the chaps and she handed me the unopened box. I pulled out a new pair of boots. “While these are a ‘graduation’ gift for you, pet, you won’t be properly dressed to ride without them, so you may put them on now. A word of warning: You had better pass your test tonight or you will pay for those boots with your ass.”
Kelly stayed on the sideline at the driving course and watched the instructors put us through the training, which was, of course, quite intense, and stressed two-wheel safety. I must admit that I felt quite confident of myself as a bike rider when we finished. At the end, each of the students had to perform all of the maneuvers required by the state, with a state examiner present. I passed with flying colors. As soon as I had my temporary license in hand, I ran to Kelly, hugged her, and planted a passionate kiss on her lips. “Oh, thank you; thank you, Mistress. I never would have done something like this on my own.”
“I am proud of you, pet, and intend to continue this celebration at home, but we have to make a stop along the way, so let’s not dawdle. Fifteen minutes later, she parked in front of a Harley Davidson dealer. I know my chin put a hole in the pavement when she said, “The owner is a personal friend of mine, pet. It’s past their closing time, but he said he would wait for us and promised to give you a good deal.”
“Ah…Mistress…a good deal on what?”
“On new leathers of your own, pet, and then we shall see.” The last part of her answer was, obviously, to keep me in suspense. I hadn’t realized that she had meant that we would purchase my leathers immediately after my class. I’ll never underestimate my Mistress.
Selecting my new “outfit” was relatively easy. The owner, whose name was Jeff, happily ran my credit card for a helmet, leather jacket, vest, boots, pants, and chaps. Jeff had suggested that I wouldn’t need both chaps and the pants, but Kelly insisted on both. The bomb dropped when Jeff asked, “Are you ready to select your new bike, Kim?” My mouth dropped as I turned to look at Kelly! She simply nodded.
“Ah…Umm…I guess so,” I replied, stupidly.
I quickly fell in love with a gold one without knowing the price and almost died when Jeff said it was ONLY $19,500 (my emphasis on the “only”). “Gawd, I’ve never paid that much for a car, Mistress,” I whispered
“Come on, kimmy, you are worth it,” Kelly commented. “Besides, we both know you can afford it. Jeff can put it on your credit card, too. You aren’t even close to your limit. Look at all the frequent flyer miles you will get. You also have more than enough in your checking account to pay it off right away.” Somehow, I knew that was an order. I wasn’t to argue. Besides, I knew she was right. I wanted to buy it. I also thought that I wouldn’t be spending my money on much else. 'In bondage there really is freedom'.
Jeff actually clinched the deal by saying, “Look, Kim. Kelly has been a good customer for years. I’ll let you take it home to road test it. If you don’t like it, just bring it back tomorrow. If you want to keep it, just give me a call.” He ran my card and promised not to send the final charge through until I called and would tear it up if I wanted to return the bike. I proudly rode my new Hog home beside Kelly, wondering if I would be calling Jeff the next day.
Once home, kneeling naked before Kelly, I said, “Gawd, Kelly, I cannot believe I bought that bike; or maybe I should say that I can’t believe you made me buy it.”
“To be honest, pet, I did it on a whim. If you really don’t want to spend that much, I will give you permission to return it.”
“I guess I have to be honest, too, Mistress. I am a wimp where money is concerned. I absolutely hate to part with it. I really do want the bike, but if you give me the option, I will probably decide to return it or buy something less expensive.”
“Well, I guess there is no question that I will make you keep it, then.” I leaped onto the sofa and started kissing her.
I had pushed Kelly flat on the sofa and was on top of her, passionately thrusting my tongue into her mouth when she suddenly pushed me away. “Whoa there, pet. Keep that up and I won’t have time to complete my plans tonight.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the bedroom, stopping only to pick up a strange looking metal bar from the playroom. The bar was about 3 feet long with what looked like a half-circle loop attached near each end and two attached to the center. She placed the bar on the bed, detached the half-circle loops, and ordered me to kneel with my legs spread and my ankles near the outside edges of the bar. She fitted the two half-circles over my ankles and reattached them to the bar. She then told me to lean forward, with my forehead on the pillow and my arms between my legs. Once in position she grasped my right wrist, pulled it back over the center of the bar and fitted a half-circle over it. My left wrist was similarly secured.
Kelly slowly ran her hand over my upturned ass and exclaimed, “You know, pet, I think this would look much better with a few stripes. Do you agree?”
“My Mistress is never wrong,” I replied with an accompanying groan.
Kelly disappeared for a few moments. I turned my head on the pillow. It was somewhat awkward, but I wanted to see her when she returned and finally was able to watch her enter the bedroom carrying a riding crop and wearing her favorite 3-inch dildo. She held the whip in front of my face. “You know what to do, pet.” I placed the obligatory kiss on it and moved my head so that my forehead was again resting on the bed.
The first stroke landed seconds later searing my flesh. “One! Thank you Ma’am.” After the fifth, Kelly climbed on the bed, kissed each of the rising welts and then my pussy. I tried to imagine what my ass and cunt must look like at this moment, on display in a way I never would have imagined. I loved the way she pushed my limits to accept positions I would have found obscene a few long weeks ago.
She shifted position and before I could wonder what she was doing, the dildo was probing the entrance to my tunnel of love. The touch was like an electric shock. I moaned loudly. “Do you want it, pet?”
“Oh, gawd, yes, ma’am.”
“You have to ask me properly.”
“Please fuck me, Mistress, please!”
“Not bad, but acceptable.” Without any additional fanfare, she grasped my hips and rammed that fake dick fully into my cunt. I cried out, not from pain, but because of the joy I truly felt when it hit bottom.
With slow, purposeful strokes she brought me to the brink of orgasm then pulled out. Needless to say, I was crushed. She was teasing me again. “Oh, gawd, Mistress. Please don’t stop! I need to cum!”
“Don’t worry, slut. You’ll get to cum…when I’m good and ready.” I groaned again and she slapped my ass.
I felt her moving about on the bed a little, but couldn’t see her because of my position. I jumped, as much as my bonds would permit, when the cold liquid hit the top of my ass and started to slowly run down my crack. It stopped when she placed two fingers just beneath my upturned sphincter. Anticipating Kelly’s intentions, I relaxed, then sighed, as one, and eventually two fingers worked the lube into my puckered hole. More lube and a third finger were soon added, stretching me to my limit; or so I thought. As the saying goes, “It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what was next.” Still, I think every muscle in my body stiffened when the fake cock, itself wet with lube, touched my anus.
“Relax, babe, and it won’t hurt as much. This one is larger than the last time, but I know you can take it,” Kelly whispered.
As she pressed against my ass I did my best to remain quiet and accept the inevitable, without success. Kelly either accepted my vocal expletives, or simple ignored them, because she maintained constant pressure on my sphincter, causing it to expand enough to permit entrance to the invader. I moaned when the bulbous head finally popped through. Grasping my hips tightly, Kelly then started a systematic back-and-forth movement drilling the dildo in deeper, an inch at a time. When it was fully inserted she said, “Ok, babe, I am not going to do all the work here. Start moving your ass.” Even in my prone and inclined position, I was surprised to find that I could move my hips back and forth. She remained still. I realized that Kelly wasn’t fucking me. I was actually fucking the dildo.
When Kelly reached around my hip and started to massage my clit, I quickly and unexpectedly climaxed. Once I was released, we hugged and kissed until we both fell asleep from total exhaustion.
We spent every evening the rest of the week talking about our relationship, bondage, discipline, and everything else one can imagine. One evening I admitted that I finally fully understood the concept 'In bondage there is freedom', but remained somewhat confused how I could have a dominating personality during the day, enjoy spanking Barb, yet be totally submissive to Kelly when away from work. Before meeting her I was always the dominant person in every group in which I was a participant. I told her that I actually looked forward to having her order me around.
“Pet, many people equate being dominant with being powerful or being superior and being submissive with the lack of power or inferiority. Many aggressive people are not really dominant. Bullies and domestic abusers portray a powerful front out of fear, more often than not. On the other hand, their victims submit from fear, not necessarily because they are inherently submissive, although that may be also be the case.
“Submission is not inferiority any more than domination automatically implies superiority. In a relationship such as ours, the dominant and the submissive could be considered as equals. The submissive actually gives power to the dominant. In other words I, the top, have no power unless you, the submissive, grant it without question or reservation. You and I are partners. When we met, I immediately took a dominant position and you were willing to permit me to do that. I lead where I think we should go, but still encourage you to help me find directions. I steer the ship and you are the navigator. You yield yourself to me out of love, not out of fear. In my opinion, that is the way every relationship should be.”
While I continued to “worship her shrine” on a regular basis, we made love every night in every way imaginable. Sometimes I was in bondage and sometimes not. I always slept beside her with my collar or one of my cuffs or rings connected to her bed by padlock and chain. I desired nothing less. Friday evening we met at Lisa’s for dinner. As would become custom, my collar was lying on top of my placemat at her table when I arrived. I was instructed never to arrive before her and we coordinated this by cell phone. I proudly knelt before her and asked for her collar which she then locked around my neck. After eating, we spent the evening talking and dancing. Since we both had had several drinks, it was understood that there would be no D&S play once we got home.
She taught me how two females could experience orgasm by rubbing our cunts together in a “scissor fuck.” Now that was an experience. Afterwards, I was “secured” to the bed for the night and fell asleep hugging my Mistress.
Chapter 34 Going to the Faire
I awakened Saturday morning alone in bed, glanced at the clock and was shocked to see it was after ten. My ankles were still locked together and attached to the foot of the bed with a padlock. I had to pee. “Mistress Kelly!” I called. I soon heard footsteps.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” I expected Kelly, of course, so was somewhat shocked to see Sam, naked except for the omnipotent collar and cuffs, walking through the doorway. “Sam, what are you doing here?”
“You don’t know it, but we were supposed to go pick up some costumes this morning, but…”
“Costumes?” I interrupted.
“Yes, for the Renaissance Faire. I’m not permitted to say anything else. Kelly will explain. Now, as I was going to say before you so rudely interrupted, Kelly knew how exhausted you were, so she decided to let you sleep. Kelly and Mistress Allyson are selecting our costumes without us. We probably wouldn’t have had much choice about what we wear anyhow.” Her last comment was said in jest, but we both knew it was true. “Now, what can I do for you, sleeping beauty?”
“I have to pee. Can you unlock the chain?”
“Actually that is why I am here. Kelly didn’t want to leave you alone since you were still chained to the bed. I was given permission to free you so you can perform your morning ritual, then we are to prepare breakfast.” Sam stayed with me in the bathroom and talked to me while I performed my morning absolutions and showered. I joked with her about how sensitive I used to be when anyone saw me naked. I even avoided the community showers in the girls’ locker room at school. Now it seemed the normal thing to do. After I dried off, she locked my leather collar and cuffs back on.
Sam set the table for four places, as Kelly had directed, while I mixed the ingredients for omelets and sliced the fruit. We finished just as Allyson and Kelly returned, so I immediately started cooking the omelets. After we ate, Sam and I cleaned the table and the kitchen. Kelly then advised us that it was time to dress. Sam and I would first assist one another, then our mistresses. When Kelly first mentioned that we were going to attend the Renaissance Faire, I commented that I had seen advertisements about it, but thought it was to start the next weekend. The local Faire was quite elaborate, as I had learned. It was started as a one-shot affair twenty years earlier by a group interested in the “Middle Ages.” It went so well, they purchased a section of land several miles outside of town and built a permanent village similar to what one might expect to see in “Merry Olde England.” Several hundred people now worked as residents, shopkeepers, etc., for eight weekends each year to create the realism of the era. To answer my question, Kelly explained that each year the Faire held a “private weekend” prior to the actual opening for a select group of which we were a part. She and Allyson had purchased tickets for the daily Medieval Banquet that took place mid-afternoon, since the park closed at dusk.
The “costumes,” our mistresses selected for Sam and me were off-white, short sleeve, floor length Victorian style dresses, complete with waist-nipping corsets. I saw that these corsets were very period specific, unlike the one I had purchased at the Foundation store. These even laced in the front as well as the back. Sam insisted that mine had to be laced as tight as possible. I had more of an “hour glass figure” when she finished than with my own corset and could barely breathe. I returned the “favor” when it was Sam’s turn to dress, of course. These corsets also had shelf-style bras, leaving the tops of our breasts and nipples bare. As one might expect, the dresses Kelly and Allyson selected for us had bodices with scoop necklines that exposed most of the tops of our breasts. When I mentioned that the dresses looked a little shabby, Kelly remarked, “That’s all a servant in the middle ages could afford, my pet. We wanted you to look authentic.” Ribbons sufficed as garters to hold our white cotton stockings high on our thighs. Since we were poor waifs, our mistresses had decided that we could not afford undergarments other than the corsets. Completing the style were black, flat-style shoes. Our collars were added to our outfits, however. I would have felt naked without mine, and knew Sam felt the same way.
Kelly’s and Allyson’s costumes were similar to ours except that theirs, in colored satin, blue for Kelly and red for Allison, were more in line with aristocracy, as compared to the pale cotton Sam and I wore. Their corsets had full bras and did not lace nearly as tight. In addition, the bodice of the dresses had high, lace necklines and they wore Victorian style undergarments along with wide brim hats while our heads would remain bare.
I was surprised at the facilities when we entered the Faire site. The buildings really were representative of what I had seen in pictures and movies of the era, and not mere facades. As we walked around, I felt as though I had been transported four hundred years back in time. As promised, the “residents” and shopkeepers’ accents and demeanor made one feel that one might see William Shakespeare himself walking around the corner at any moment. Dinner was certainly different. The utensils we used were somewhat unusual, and fingers were required more than not. After eating, we strolled through more of the village and through the shops. Suddenly, I heard a woman shouting to my right. When I turned, I saw she was pointing and running towards me. “There she is, sheriff! That’s her!”
The man with her was wearing a badge so I assumed he was the sheriff to whom this woman was shouting. He approached me and said, “Excuse me, ma’am, but Edna, here, says you took a bracelet from her shop. I was shocked and denied this allegation, saying she definitely had the wrong person. My three companions agreed, after which he said, “Then you don’t mind if I search you.”
“That depends on what you want to search,” I joked.
“I saw her put it in her right pocket,” stated the woman emphatically.
“Then we should begin with your pockets,” the sheriff said.
“I didn’t even know my dress had pockets,” I replied, smiling. The smile quickly left my face when I slid my hand inside the right pocket and felt something. When I removed my hand, I was holding a bracelet.
“See, sheriff, that’s the bracelet I described to you,” the woman said.
“Ma’am, I am going to have to take you in. Please turn around and put your hands behind your back.
As I was handcuffed me with a pair of age-appropriate cuffs, Kelly asked, incredulously, “Kimmy, how could you?”
“Mistress, I swear I didn’t take it.”
“Oh, I believe you, Kimmy, but you will need a good lawyer. Then to the sheriff she asked, “Where are you taking her?”
“We have a holding cell off the square just for situations like this which seem to happen every year,” he answered. A tear ran down my cheek as he led me away. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
Although the “jail” was also appropriate for the setting, I will admit to being quite scared when the door of the cell clanged shut. The extremely small room was dark and dank with a dirt floor. Adding to my humiliation, the sheriff did not remove the handcuffs.
About ten minutes later, the sheriff and another woman approached. “I am the solicitor your friends hired for you,” the woman said.
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied with some trepidation.
“Well, my name is Ms. Smythe. The judge is waiting, so as soon as the sheriff takes down your personal information for the record, we will go to the courtroom. I must warn you that defendants are strictly forbidden to speak before the court. The judge is very strict and will throw you in jail for contempt if you even mutter, so let me do all the talking.” I acknowledged this fair warning.
The sheriff asked if I had any identification. When I replied, “No,” he said I would need to have some delivered before I would be released. I knew Kelly would get it, so I was not worried. The sheriff wrote down what I verbally told him and opened the door to the cell.
The judge, wearing a powdered wig, was seated in the front of the courtroom when we entered. I immediately noticed the gallery was full of onlookers. I was led to the front, the charge was read, and the judge asked for my plea. I looked at my lawyer who replied, “Since my client was caught red-handed with the bracelet in her pocket, your honor, she pleads guilty.”
“That’s not true!” I screamed. “I did not steal it!”
The judge struck the bench with her gavel. “Silence, wench!” I will not accept outbursts like that in my courtroom. Any more from you will result in contempt charges!”
“I’m sorry, but you are violating my constitutional rights!” I yelled.
The gavel struck again. “Silence I said! These are the middle ages. You have no constitutional rights. You are now in contempt. You will be sentenced immediately!”
“I told you,” my temporarily lawyer muttered. “She even gave you a second chance, much to my surprise, and you still screwed it up.”
I quickly realized that this was a Kangaroo court and almost laughed that I hadn’t realized it earlier. There was no way that it could be otherwise. Once my fear had dissipated somewhat, I sensed that the small room we were in had filled with more spectators. I looked around and saw that even my “friends” were there. The rapping of the judge’s gavel brought me back from my detachment.
“You will look at me when I am talking to you, wench!”
“I was asking if you wanted to apologize for stealing that bracelet.”
She was trying to be so serious and I was now laughing on the inside at the setup. I decided to see what would happen if I did not play along. With a grin on my face I replied, “How can I possibly apologize for something I didn’t do?”
“Your sentence will reflect the seriousness of your crime and your obvious failure to be contrite. One would think you would give the court your full attention during this phase of your trial. I expect a defendant to show some remorse and accept responsibility for her actions. Since you obviously will not do either, your sentence will be carried out immediately. You are to be divested of all clothing and taken to the town square where you will spend one hour chained to the carcan followed by one hour on the wooden horse. Finally, because I found you in contempt of court, I sentence you to wear an iron yoke and leg irons until five o’clock today. I will provide specifications to the smithy.”
The judge pointed at me and said, “One more word out of that mouth, wench and I will gag you too.”
I looked at Kelly who simply shrugged her shoulders. It was obvious she did not intend to help me. Now I was somewhat miffed at her. No, I was pissed.
Two women, badges pinned to their vests, immediately approached. The older one spoke, “The sheriff had to leave, dearie. We are his deputies and have been assigned to carry out your sentence. I am Ms. Abernathy, and this is my assistant Ms. Barnes.”
I called to Kelly for help. She simply shrugged her shoulders once again and grinned. I then turned to Ms. Abernathy. “This really is a joke, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid not, my dear.”
“But…,” I began.
“You know that today the Faire is not open to the general public, don’t you?” I nodded. “Then you must know that one of the conditions of entry was that you accepted anything that might happen.”
“No! I didn’t. My Mis… my friend bought my ticket for me. I didn’t agree to anything.”
“Well, that doesn’t matter. The conditions were printed on the back of your ticket. You accepted them by virtue of your entrance into our village. Therefore, you still have to complete your sentence. You know what they say: ‘Ignorance of the law is no excuse.’” Then the two of them started laughing at me. Actually, ‘cackling’ would be a more appropriate word for the sound coming from their mouths. That pissed me off even more, if that were possible.
I opened my mouth to protest again but the deputy interrupted. “Come on, wench. We don’t have all day. The judge said you had to get rid of those clothes to carry out your sentence. I’ll remove the cuffs long enough for you to strip.”
“What if I refuse?”
“Look, dearie. We can do this the easy way or the hard way and I don’t think you want the hard way. Now, do you want me to remove the cuffs so you can do it the easy way? ”
“Yes,” I replied meekly.
With much trepidation I took a deep breath and started to remove my dress. I had been naked in front of a crowd in Lisa’s, of course, but this was somehow different and I couldn’t explain why. I didn’t need to look around the courtroom to see how many eyes were glaring at me. I could feel each pair eagerly waiting the most embarrassing moment of my life. I though back about telling Sam how it was feeling “normal” to be naked in front of others. This is not what I had meant. When I removed the dress, a cacophony of whispers and jeers came from my audience because of my lack of undergarments, except for the corset, that is. The deputy had her own comments, “Ooh, look at her rings, Mildred. She really is a wench. Surprisingly this only increased my resolve to be brave. “They aren’t going to get the best of this woman,” I thought. I was pleased I had been permitted to wear so few articles of clothing. Disrobing was quicker, although I did have to ask for assistance in unlacing the corset. My total humiliation came quickly; or so I thought.
Turning to her assistant, Ms. Abernathy said, “The yoke, Mildred.” I watched Mildred walk to the wall and pick up what appeared to piece of wood about three feet long and an inch thick. As she returned I noticed that it had a large hole in the center and two small holes near the ends. Except for its shape, wide in the center and narrow at the ends, it looked like a set of stocks. While Mildred held one end of the yoke, Ms. Abernathy grasped the other end, released a hasp and pulled the yoke apart. I hadn’t noticed that it was hinged on the end opposite the hasp. Following her instructions, I raised my hands while they lowered the instrument down over my head and shoulders. When it was closed and a lock was slipped through the hasp, I knew that I was in a new form of bondage. Finally, Mildred knelt down and locked a pair of metal cuffs around my ankles. I saw that they were very crude in construction and somewhat matched my wrist cuffs. A short chain connected them.
“Do you think we should make use of that ring between her legs, Mildred?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. We definitely should.” I watched dumbfounded as Ms. Abernathy tied the end of a rope to my clit ring. When she discovered the ID, she exclaimed, “Oh, lookie here! This thing says our wench is someone’s property. Well, now, we must not abuse her too much, must we?” More cackles that I didn’t like followed. A tug on the rope left no doubt that I was to follow.
So, there I was, a captive in the yoke, hobbled by ankle cuffs, naked, being lead out of the courtroom to be paraded down the street to the public square. I was both embarrassed and pissed at the whole situation, although it didn’t really matter. My fate was sealed and Kelly wasn’t doing a fucking thing to help me.
Imagine my continued surprise when my escorts led me up a ramp and into a cage that sat on a wagon. “At least I didn’t have to walk to the square,” I sarcastically thought as they paraded me through the streets of the town. I think every single sole came out to watch.
In less than ten minutes, I was standing next to the carcan. Trust me when I say that I had never heard of a carcan before this point in my life. Kelly later told me that both my punishment devices were based on two at the Fortress at Louisbourg in Nova Scotia. She also told me that there are actually two types of carcans. One resembles a pillory or stocks. The other, like the one next to me, is a tall post with a large ring near the top. The person being punished is chained to this ring usually while in some form of bondage and held up to public ridicule. The yoke was removed, my hands cuffed behind my back and an iron ring locked around my neck. The ring was connected to the carcan with a heavy chain, of course. For the next hour, I was on display for an ever-changing group people. Ok, I have to admit that there was something sexually simulating about being on display in this manner.
Two things continued to trouble me: First, I suddenly realized that there was a distinct possibility that someone from my company could walk by and would recognize me; secondly, I was staring at my other nemesis, the horse, only ten feet away. It was made of wood, about six feet long, built somewhat like a carpenter’s horse in an upside down “V.” Only, in this case, the top was about five feet off the ground and was pointed, rather than flat, at the top. I could already feel its pointed back cutting into my pussy. I was positive I wouldn’t be able to sit on it for an hour. One thing made me chuckle inside: I couldn’t believe that they actually had put a wooden head on it that actually resembled a horse. Later, Kelly showed me pictures of it that she had taken during a vacation. The device next to me was just like the one at Louisbourg.
As the old adage goes, “Time flies when you are having fun.” Before I new it, Ms. Abernathy and Mildred were standing beside me again. “Are we enjoying ourselves, my little wench?”
“I don’t know about you two, but this part of ‘we’ sure as hell isn’t,” I replied, being the brave soul that I am.
It was almost as if she had anticipated my smart-ass reply. “Mildred, I think our wench has said just about enough. I’m tired of listening to her blabber. Gag her!”
With a supercilious grin on her face, Mildred pulled a ball gag from a cloth bag that was hanging from her shoulder like a purse. “Open wide, dearie,” she ordered while placing the ball against my lips. I refused by pressing my lips tighter together and moving my head back and forth. My resistance was short-lived, however. Ms. Abernathy quickly grasped my nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, squeezing and twisting them hard, extracting the desired, automatic, scream from my lips. Mildred’s ball filled the void occupied only by sounds. Attached straps attached were tied behind my head, holding the undesired, and awful tasting, sphere in place. Mildred then knelt down and removed the chain connecting my leg irons.
Mildred placed a small platform next to the horse. Realizing resistance was futile, I stepped onto it and then mounted my steed. Two large, flat pieces of wood formed the body of the horse, angled so that the bottom edges were about eighteen inches apart. I realized that this separation would work to help keep me from falling off. As I mentioned, the top edges met to form a point. Actually, it wasn’t a true point, but a flat surface about an inch wide. Either way, I immediately felt its effect as soon as I lowered my pussy against it. When the small platform was removed, I knew that I would have no way to rise up and relieve the pressure. Finally, Mildred locked another chain to my ankle irons to insure I could not lift my feet in an attempt to hug the sides of the horse with my legs. To add insult to injury, she attached heavy weights to each of the leg irons to pull my body tighter down onto the apex.
As the pain between my legs increased exponentially, tears flowed down my cheeks and dropped onto my naked breasts. I glanced around the square noticing that the audience witnessing the execution of my sentence had grown much larger. I almost missed seeing Kelly. She was standing next to Allyson and Sam, of course. When our eyes met, she mouthed the words, “I love you!”
Had I not been gagged, I would have screamed at her in reply, “Then how the fuck could you let them do this to me?” and would not have added the required “Mistress.”
Chapter 35 Completing the Sentence
This time the clock seemed to stand still. I was sure my hour had passed, plus some, when Mildred approached and said, “You will be pleased to know you only have another half hour and your sentence will be complete, wench.” Only the ball gag kept me from screaming every obscenity at her that I ever learned. I already knew I was being split in half. Unless one has personally experienced this type of pain, they cannot possibly say, “I know how you feel.” Male or female, to have your entire weight pressing down on your crotch for an hour is cruel and unusual. In my case I guessed that twenty additional pounds were added by the weights tied to my ankles.
The copious flow of tears had the natural effect of causing a flow of mucus from my nose. These sources of liquid combined with the saliva seeping around the ball gag. The resulting mixture dripped from my jaw onto my breasts and I couldn’t do a thing to stop it. I was as embarrassed as much as I was pissed.
I assumed my punishment was finally over when my torturers released the cuffs from my wrists and legs, lifted me from my steed, and helped me off the platform after removing the gag. I didn’t realize how weak my legs were until I collapsed flat on my face onto the dirt street.
I had completely forgotten the additional sentence for contempt. I had no concept of the Middle Ages definition of “being in irons.” My education was greatly enhanced after Mildred led me to the blacksmith shop. Upon entering, she picked up two pieces of iron that had three semi circles formed into it. I immediately thought about the wooden yoke I wore as I traversed the square to the carcan and remembered the part of the sentence where the judge mentioned the iron yoke. This was it. Following Mildred’s instructions, I raised my wrists to the outside of my shoulders and waited while they fitted the yoke in place. Locks were slipped through holes in the metal outside my wrists and near my neck making the yoke impossible to remove.
The blacksmith who, to my surprise, happened to be female, picked up a set of metal semi circles that were connected by a chain about a foot long. One of these semi circles was placed on an anvil to my left. As instructed, I sat on a stool next to the anvil and put my ankle on the semi circle. I watched closely, and with concern, as the blacksmith slipped a tab on the edge of a second semi-circle into a corresponding slot in the inside of the one on the anvil and closed it over my ankle. I must admit that I was scared stiff as I watched her remove a white-hot rivet from the forge and insert it through two holes in the flat, outer edges of the two semi-circles. After she smashed the rivet in place with a large mallet, water was poured over the rivet to cool it. My other ankle was similarly encased. I couldn’t believe I’d have to wear these irons for the rest of the day. The iron from which they were made was at least half an inch thick and more than two inches wide. I knew their weight would become more and more noticeable over time. Walking wouldn’t be easy with the short chain.
I had been focusing so intently on what was happening to me, I didn’t realize we had an audience until Mildred loudly exclaimed, “Who claims ownership of this wench.”
Kelly stepped forward with Allyson, “I do.”
“Completing the order of the court, I release her into your hands. Have her back here at 5 o’clock and we will remove the irons.”
Kelly grasped one arm and Allyson the other to help me to stand. “You are a real mess, little one,” exclaimed Kelly. I looked in the direction her eyes were staring and saw that dirt and dust had mixed with the bodily fluids that were covering me when I had fallen outside. “You look like a pitiful waif, Kimmy. I was going to let you put your dress back on, but I don’t want to mess it up. Besides, it would be a little difficult with your new irons,” Kelly continued.
For the first time since meeting her, I put my mouth in gear before engaging my brain. “What fucking difference would it make? I’m sure everyone here has seen me naked anyhow!”
Kelly stared at me for a few seconds before saying, “I think you forgot something Kimberly!”
“Oh, yea, I guess I did: MISTRESS!” I screamed.
She turned to Allyson and said, “I must apologize for my pet, Allyson. She seems to have developed an attitude.”
Before Allyson could say anything, I blurted out another unwelcome comment. “Attitude? Why shouldn’t I have a fucking attitude? I was the one they put on display and the one who had to suffer on that fucking horse for no reason at all. These stupid, fucking irons are the straw that broke the camel’s back. And you stood by and let them fucking do it!” I then added in a contemptuous tone, “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot: MISTRESS!”
“I owe no explanation to my slave for any action or inaction I may take during her servitude. However, because of certain feelings I have for her, I will explain this one time and one time only. I was going to tell you when we got home anyhow. To begin with, I did not LET them do anything. This whole scene was planned and scripted several months ago. Your name was added to the script last week. That bracelet was in your pocket before we left home.”
“I… I don’t understand, Mistress,” I commented. This time my attitude was somewhat meek.
“You don’t need to understand, pet. You simply need to trust your Mistress. She would never do anything to truly hurt you. As part of your submission, I indicated that I would have to determine your limits. I cannot be expected to do that without experimenting.
“I have been watching your reactions for the past two hours. They were exactly as I expected. Can you deny the fact that you were turned on by this whole scene?”
I reluctantly admitted she was correct. While the scene was embarrassing and humiliating at first, being locked to the carcan did enable me to be naked in public without worrying about societal repercussions. And although I felt like I was being split in two while on the horse, and my pussy still ached, I was still secreting juices. Even being put in irons was somehow sexually exciting. Yes, I was turned on.
When I started crying, while incessantly blabbering, “I’m sorry, Mistress,” Kelly took me into her arms, disregarding my dirt-covered front, and hugged me tightly.
“Not to worry, pet. You actually made me proud!”
I managed to blurt out, “Thank you, Mistress.”
Once my sniveling died down, Kelly wiped my nose with a handkerchief. She then pulled a piece of paper from her purse and held it up for me to see. “You will be pleased to know that your bank account will be fatter as a result of your suffering.” The piece of paper was a Renaissance Faire check in the amount of fifteen hundred dollars.
“Mistress,” I commented, “You definitely have a knack of confusing your slave. Why is this check made out to me?”
“It’s a payment for services rendered, silly.” She then went on to explain that each year, the Faire hires one or two women to be tried and punished for some ‘crimes.’ This year Kelly had submitted my name for both positions. “The punishment is a little more revealing during the private day, of course,” she explained. “Since you are new in town, I talked to the Faire committee and volunteered you for this scene. To make things more realistic it was agreed that you would not be informed of your ‘employment.’ You were paid five hundred dollars for the court scene and one thousand for the public punishment and for wearing the irons.“ I said that I thought the committee had taken a big chance. What if I were someone who would sue them? Kelly simply said that they knew I wouldn’t and I didn’t need to know the reason why.
I apologized for my explosive reactions. Kelly then added, “Don’t apologize, pet. I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t reacted in any other way. I do want you to know, however, that they also wanted a ‘volunteer’ to be publicly flogged. I could have put your name in for that too. No one accepted the position. You could have earned another thousand dollars.” I thanked her for her consideration since I did not need the money. I added the comment about the money knowing the choice was not mine, but asked her why she passed. “The scene is rather heavy, pet. They only get a subject about once every four years. Besides,” she added, “no one outside of our little group will ever have the privilege of seeing a slave of mine being whipped. That being said, you know you will be punished as soon as we get home because of that display of bad attitude.”
“Yes, ma’am, I know.”
As we wondered around the lot for the next few hours I could feel every single set of eyes looking at me. I was totally naked, wearing the heavy irons, and still covered with dirt. Numerous onlookers pointed at me and laughed. Finally, at the assigned time, we returned to the blacksmith who removed my irons. I was glad to get rid of their heavy burden.
Kelly connected the leash to my collar and said, “Let’s get moving, pet. As you already know, I believe punishment should be doled out as soon as possible after being earned.” I followed the three of them out of the park naked and at the end of my leash. When we arrived at the house, Kelly asked Allyson if Sam could remain with us until morning. I think this was prearranged because Allyson agreed immediately and didn’t question Kelly’s motive for asking.
Once inside the house, Sam was instructed to “wash off the residue of my escapade,” meaning the mixture of tears, saliva and dirt that decorated the front of my body. Much to my dismay, Sam understood the directive, but I didn’t. After she removed all her clothes, I was marched out to the patio where I watched Sam uncoil the garden hose and turned on the water. I screamed as the torrent of cold water hit and cascaded over my body. Thankfully the sun was still out and warmed me slightly as Sam permitted me to “drip dry.”
Kelly was sitting on the sofa when we returned to the den. She tossed a towel to Sam, instructing her to wipe the remaining remnants of moisture off me. I was ordered to kneel on the coffee table which, I noticed, Kelly had covered with a beach towel. A pillow had been placed at one end. With Sam assisting me because of the short chain that had been added to my omnipotent cuffs, I leaned forward and rested my chin on the pillow.
My captors worked quickly as a team binding me to the table. Another set of cuffs were buckled around my legs just above my knees. A rope was tied to one of these cuffs and passed under the table. They then pulled my knees as wide apart as the table would permit and tied the loose end of the rope to the other cuff, preventing me from moving my legs closer together. Another rope was tied between my knee cuffs so that I would not spread my legs and accidentally fall off the table. A rope was tied to the chain connecting my ankle cuffs then tied to a cross bar at the end of the table near the floor. Kelly tied a final rope to a table leg to the left of my head, passed it over my neck and tied the other end to the leg to my right. I could no longer raise my head, and the rest of my body was virtually immobile.
After insuring the integrity of my bonds, Kelly knelt before me. “Do you understand why you are being punished, pet?”
It was somewhat difficult to talk, but I was able to utter, “Yes, Mistress, I do.”
“Tell me why, pet?”
“I spoke unkindly to my Mistress and in a harsh voice.”
“Even more than that, little one, your outburst was precipitated by the simple fact that you forgot to trust your Mistress. You must always remember that, while you belong to her, she will never permit real harm to you.”
“I know that, ma’am. I am sorry for my childish behavior. I will do my best to not repeat it.”
“I am sure of that, pet, especially when your punishment is completed. Just so you know, if I were in the same situation, my reaction would probably been the same as yours. Nevertheless, that does not excuse or mitigate your irresponsible behavior.”
“Yes, ma’am! I understand.”
“Sam, the cane please!” Kelly held the instrument where I could see it. It was a white plastic rod, about three feet long, attached to a handle. “This is a modern style cane, pet. The web site where I buy my gear grades its whips in their ability to create pain from mild to very severe. This is classified as severe. I am sure you will agree with that assessment before I am finished." I realized it was very similar to the one she had used on Sam and I am sure she was just reminding me of its nature.
“In order to prevent letting my passions get in the way, I decide real punishment strokes by rolling a pair of dice. I then multiply the two numbers to determine the total strokes. You could receive as few as one or as many as 36 strokes if double sixes come up. If I classify your crime as extremely severe, I will roll both dice, add the numbers and then roll one to determine the multiplier.” Sam handed Kelly the dice and I watched closely as she rolled the little white cubes on the floor.
“One little note, pet. I would normally classify your outburst at the Faire as severe, but you don’t know all the rules yet so I am reducing your sentence.”
The dice were not in a position where I could see them, but Kelly said she rolled a two and a four. That meant I would get eight strokes. “It could have been worse,” I thought as Kelly stood and moved behind me. She carefully measured her position by placing the wicked instrument against my butt.
I do not know which I sensed first, the sound of the cane swishing through the air or of it striking my ass, which seemed like the crack of a rifle. The two seemed to blend and melded with the intense pain that was created. What came first was a moot point. I only thought about the pain and the shrill scream from my throat that followed. Kelly’s careful aim struck just above the point where the bottom curves of my ass meet my thighs. She calls it the “sweet spot.” I can tell you that it felt as though the rod had sliced into my bones.
Later, Kelly described the effect of each of the strokes. The skin was visibly indented by the force of the thin rod striking against it. A white streak immediately appeared across both cheeks that were struck simultaneously. The white streak started turning pink within a few seconds and soon started forming a raised ridge. Eventually the streak turned red then deepened into a much darker bruise. Kelly didn’t wait for this process to be completed before administering the follow-on strokes, of course. Each additional slice, one above the other, was consummated about the time the streak from the previous stroke was starting its color change to pink. Needless to say, I hadn’t stopped screaming over one before the next landed. By the time my punishment ended, tears were soaking the pillow beneath my chin.
The sensation I felt, over the intense pain, were fingers softly stroking the welts that were forming on my bottom. I couldn’t tell if the fingers belonged to Kelly or Sam. At this point, it didn’t matter and I didn’t care. Normally, this stroking would feel sensuous, but the pain was there. I gasped when the fingers moved to my pussy. The words, “Oh dear, my pet, you are absolutely dripping,” settled the question of who was doing the stroking. If there were any doubt, it dissipated when Kelly offered her fingers to my mouth. I gleefully sucked my juices from them, and was overjoyed when she told Sam to “take care of my problem.”
Sam had to have been anticipating Kelly’s order, because her hands immediately grasped my legs and her tongue merged with my dripping pussy. I quickly forgot the pain in my ass as she licked my juices and literally swooned as my fellow slave tongued me from anus to vagina, taking time to fuck both holes with her oral muscle. I kept moving my hips, as much as my bonds permitted, attempting to move my clit to her tongue, but she continually frustrated my actions. However, when she finally sucked on that little bud, I came like I never came before.
I must have passed out because the next thing I remember is that I was lying face down on the carpet. Kelly and Sam were sitting on the sofa grinning at me like two Cheshire cats. “I think my pet is back with us again Sam.” I am still positive that a woman cannot pass out as the result of an orgasm. It had to be a delayed response to the caning. Then to me she said, “Position, pet. Sam will help you. Be careful, though, she has put some ointment on your ass. We don’t want to get it all over the carpet.” When I knelt before her, Kelly told Sam to kneel beside me. “Kimmy, I want you to know that the punishment you just endured is just a sample of what you will receive if you ever act in a manner that is embarrassing or disrespectful to me again. I hope you never get to the severe stage since that could mean as many as 72 strokes.”
“Mistress, I am truly sorry I let my feelings take over my mind. I promise to trust you implicitly in the future.”
Pleased with my answer, Kelly announced that it was time to retire. In the bedroom, a chain was attached to the foot of the bed and locked to the chain connecting my ankle cuffs. Kelly laid on one side of me and Sam on the other. Each grasped one of my breasts and we fell asleep.
Sunday was literally a day of rest. Sam left after breakfast. Kelly and I lounged around the house as would any normal couple, except, of course, we weren’t really normal. I wore my collar and cuffs and performed spontaneous duties as Kelly’s slave. When I mentioned 'our future', Kelly interrupted me. “You speak of the future, pet. Your trial period is almost over. I hope you don’t mind, but I would like to ask you to make an early decision on continuing our relationship.” I started to reply but she stopped me. “No, I will not accept an answer tonight. Our emotions are too high. Monday, when you get home from work, I will ask you for a decision. At that time, you can tell me if you wish to continue as my slave. If you decide in the negative, we will always be friends. Can you agree to that?”
“Yes, ma’am, I definitely can.”
Chapter 36 Her Training Continues
My clothing for work on Monday consisted of a white blouse, jacket, matching pleated skirt, thigh highs and high heels. I was glad that I would be conducting lectures most of the day, and thereby standing, because the remnants of pain in my ass were still amplified when I sat down, especially on hard chairs.
I contemplated my decision all day while at work. Needless to say, my mind considered virtually nothing else when I wasn’t lecturing. Never was there was not much doubt about what my answer would be. Even though the painful results of Saturday’s punishment was still evident, I could not think of any reason to say “no.” I arrived home and removed my clothes in the foyer. The ankle and wrist cuffs and the collar were waiting for me. Following Kelly’s instructions, I locked them on then removed a sheet of paper from my purse. My Mistress was waiting in the den as I crawled to her. “Well, pet, since you are properly presenting yourself before me as my slave, can I assume your decision?”
“Mistress, whether my decision were ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ I would be here before you as your slave because my initial contract is not complete.”
“I stand corrected, pet. Since you have succinctly stated the obvious, I must ask for your decision.” In reply I handed the sheet of paper to her. It was a printout from the Internet:
Slave Ownership and Registration Certificate for 701-268-614
This is to certify that the registrant with number 701-268-614, currently known as "SlaveKimmy", is registered in The Slave Register as an owned slave; and that the registrant's owner is declared to be Mistress Kelly; and that the registrant has been owned by Mistress Kelly since the 12th day of June 2009. The registration number 701-268-614 was issued on the 12th day of June 2009. The current registration details may be inspected at http://701-268-614.slaveregister.com/
This certificate was issued on the 12th day of June 2009. For more information about The Slave Register please visit www.slaveregister.com
A barcode specific to this registration was pictured at the bottom of the page.
“I pray Mistress is not displeased that her slave took the liberty of registering her ownership. I found this web site and just could not resist. As you can see, they even provide a bar code that can be tattooed onto a slave for future identification purposes. Her slave must also admit that she had registered last Friday.”
Kelly’s answer was initially wordless. She dropped to her knees in front of me, took me into her arms and kissed me deeply. Finally she pulled back and exclaimed, “No, Kimmy, your Mistress is not displeased at all. In fact, she is overjoyed. She cannot believe you actually did this.” We talked for the longest time about how we would interact. During our conversation Kelly said that she would like to have our relationship formalized during a traditional “bonding” ceremony that the Coterie holds. When I, of course, deferred to my Mistresses wishes, she said she would arrange for the ceremony to be held at Lisa’s Saturday evening.
“Damn, pet, I just don’t know what to do with you!”
“Is Mistress displeased with her slave because of something her slave did?”
“Displeased? No way! It’s just that you should be getting your arrival spanking, but I don’t think I should since because of this,” she remarked, waving my certificate in the air, "and even more important, because of the welts on your ass.”
“But, Mistress, you must do it. I would feel my evening was incomplete if you neglected to give me my arrival spanking.” Kelly smiled and patted her lap. I needed no additional invitation. I lay over her legs for the longest time as she slowly stroked my butt with her hand. Just before beginning my spanking she commented on how beautiful my butt looked bearing the marks from the caning. I actually felt proud.
Later, I prepared supper with my cuffs connected by short chains and my ass properly covered with her handprints. The rest of the evening was spent snuggling while watching a video. I was so happy being in her arms I don’t even remember the name of the video. I was somewhat surprised that she removed my cuffs when we went to bed. My collar remained as the only reminder of her ownership. We made love until the wee hours of the morning when she locked a chain to my collar. We both knew the chain was unnecessary, but it still felt good when she said, “I am never going to let you go, my pet. You are mine, forever.” I’ll have to decide where I am going to tattoo that barcode on you, though. I simply smiled. We soon fell asleep in one another’s arms.
The next morning Kelly described a new ritual I was to assume for our morning routine. After our showers I would assist Kelly in dressing for the day. I, however, would remain naked. I would serve Kelly her cup of tea and she would read the paper while I prepared our breakfast. (Oh, I forgot to mention that I was required to go outside to get the paper. Thankfully, she permitted me to wear a robe, although it was so short it barely covered my ass.) I could then join her at the table while we ate. After I washed the dishes, I would dress for work (or remain naked on the weekends).
I was a little surprised when, after I poured her tea, Kelly advised me that she would be having scrambled eggs and hash-browns for breakfast, but I would only be eating chocolate-covered Cocoa Puffs. This was the first time she had me prepare something different for myself.
I should preface the next part with a description of the new breakfast table that was delivered the day before. It was a rectangular, glass-top table that could seat four people, two on each side. It was wide enough that two additional people could set at the ends, if desired, but only four chairs came with it. The glass was sturdy enough that it was only held up by four legs at the corners. When I arrived home from work and saw it, I remarked that I was surprised since the old table was in good condition. “Oh, this is something I’ve thought about for quite awhile, pet. It will fulfill a fantasy.”
I finished preparing breakfast, placed her plate and my bowl on the table and sat down. I wasn’t permitted to begin eating until she was ready. She laid the paper down and looked at me with that grin that told me something was up. “Pet, we are going to change the way we enjoy our breakfast today. If I like the change, and I have no reason to believe I won’t, it may become a regular part of our morning routine. You will not be eating at the table with me.”
A disappointed look immediately spread across my face. “Kimmy, I recommend you never play poker. It is impossible for you to hide your feelings. Listen to what I have to say before you judge. This will not be a daily routine, but I am sure I will include it in our meals several times a week, primarily at breakfast, and am sure you will enjoy it, once you realize how much you will be pleasing your Mistress.
“There are several parts to this and I will instruct you in each separately. First, when I permit you to eat at the table with me, you will always be naked from the waist down and keep your legs spread so I can see my pussy. That won’t be much of a problem, though, since you are usually naked when home. However, if you aren’t, you will always insure I can see my pussy without receiving specific instructions from me.”
“Ah, the reason for the glass top,” I thought, then replied, “I understand, Mistress,” and immediately spread my legs wide.
“This morning, however, I want you to place your bowl on the floor under the table and eat there while on your hands and knees. You will do this at breakfast any time I say that you will be eating cereal. For other meals I will simply state that you will not be dining at the table. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.”
“Oh, and this applies even if we have guests eating with us.”
I gulped, knowing this was another form of humiliation. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Well?” She stared at me waiting a moment before I realized that was an order to act. I picked up my bowl and spoon and knelt on the floor preparing to crawl under the table when she asked, “Kimmy, what did I tell you to do?”
“You said I should eat my cereal under the table, ma’am,” I replied somewhat confused.
“No, pet, I specifically said to place your bowl on the floor under the table and eat there while on your hands and knees. I never said anything about a spoon.”
Rebuked once again, I wondered if I would ever learn to listen close enough that I wouldn’t miss things like that.
Even though I had eaten while on the floor before, I was embarrassed doing it under the table, knowing she was watching me through the glass table top. When I finished lapping the remaining milk from the bowl (I’d have to remember not to pour so much in the next time), she ordered me to relax in place. The table was just high enough that I could sit back on my heels, legs spread, hands on my legs, and watch my Mistress finish her breakfast. Somehow, I found the view fascinating, and smiled when she would look down at my naked body.
Finally she pushed her empty plates to the side. “Ok, pet, while it is not customary to have desert after breakfast, you may now enjoy some. Considering my position and watching her spread her legs, it didn’t take much thought to realize what my desert was to be. I carefully pushed her skirt up her legs while she lifted her hips and slid forward in the chair to make it easy for me to grasp her panties and pull them off.
I had performed this wonderful act of love many times under the table after a meal, but this was the first time she would be able to watch me. That knowledge added to my excitement. My lips and tongue moved over her nether lips kissing and prodding in ways that I had learned would give her the greatest pleasure. She soon exploded in orgasm and pressed her sex into my face where I was to remain until she came back to earth. I, too, was in heaven knowing that I was the one who gave her that pleasure.
When she stood up, I crawled from beneath the table and knelt with my fingers entwined behind me. She grasped my chin, bid me to rise then hugged and kissed me.
“That was wonderful, pet. I may actually make that a daily ritual after all.”
“Your wish is my desire, and pleasure, Mistress.”
I floated through the rest of the workweek wondering what the ceremony would be like on Friday. I asked Kelly, but she would not reveal even a tidbit of information. She continued to play with my senses through her selection of clothing that I wore to work. On Tuesday I was sans panties. I wore a thong on Wednesday, but she called me just after lunch and ordered me to remove the garment (while sitting at my desk) and put it in the desk drawer. On Thursday, she attached a small bell to my clit ring using a short chain. Since I was again without panties the damn thing would ring as I walked. I think I turned red every time someone commented on the sound and wondered about its source.
Also on Thursday, I was surprised when Sandra approached me in the lunchroom whispered, “I’m looking forward to attending your bonding ceremony tomorrow, Kim.” Reacting to my shocked look, she smiled and said, “My Mistress told me you had agreed to be Kelly’s full-time slave. I think it is fab that you will be one of us.” She squeezed my hand and slithered off, but not before hearing and commenting on the sound of the bell. When I didn’t reply she smiled that knowing smile (In case you forgot, Sandra is the warehouse manager who revealed her slave status to me).
By Friday morning I was riding on an endorphin high. Knowing I had a couple important meetings, Kelly insisted I wear my best power suit, with a blouse, thigh highs, and heels; no bra or panties. A “Y” chain connected my nipple rings and clit ring. Before I left she told me that I was to go to Allyson’s house after work instead of our home. Allyson had been tasked to prepare me for the ceremony. While I had to concentrate on the contents of the meetings, I knew that my mind would be wondering about the night’s activities. Even during the first meeting I was positive that my female musk was drifting from beneath my skirt. At the same time, I prayed it was my imagination.
When I returned to my desk after that first meeting, I was surprised to see an email from Melissa in HR. She directed me to report to her office as soon as possible to discuss a matter of extreme importance. The tone of the message was one that would cause concern to anyone who received it. It was nearly lunch time so I called to insure she was in. She indicated that, yes she was about to leave for lunch, but this matter was so important we needed to discuss it immediately.
End of Part 9
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