The front gate buzzer rang and, as usual, it startled me. i went to the intercom, "Hello?"
"Hi, o, itís Steph and Scott. Can we come in?" i could tell by her voice that Stephanie was excited.
"Sure." i pushed the button opening the driveway gate, and opened the front door.
Stephanie came running up the driveway and we hugged on the front porch. Scott was further back riding a motorcycle toward the garage door.
"Whatís with the motorcycle?" i asked.
"Thatís why we came by. Scott bought it this morning," Steph enthused.
Scott put the stand down and came over and gave me a hug. "What do you think, o, isnít it beautiful?" He was obviously very excited.
"i guess it is, but you know, iím not really much of an expert on motorcycles, but..."
Scott cut me short, "Do you want to go for a ride, o?"
"Scott, you know i canít get dressed, and if..."
He interrupted again, "You wouldnít have to. Look, if you sit close no one would even know you are nude, and we wouldnít, like, go through town, or anything. Come on, o, please." Scott seemed almost to be pleading.
"But iíve never even ridden on a motorcycle..."
"Itís easy, isnít it Steph? Just hang onto me and lean when I lean. Come on o, youíll love it." Yep, now he was definitely pleading.
"Well, okay, but not too far, okay?"
"Sure, o. But you will have to wear the helmet; itís the law." Scott was really excited now.
"Okay, i guess Master wouldnít want me to break the law, and Iím sure you wouldnít want to be stopped by a cop having a naked slave on the back of your bike." i put on Stephanieís helmet. i was definitely not as enthused as Scott, but it seemed like it could be fun.
Scott started the bike, and i got on the back. Stephanie told me to sit right up tight behind Scott, wrap slaveís arms around him and just lean with him.
We went slowly toward the gate to give it time to open and then out onto the street. Scott started slowly, to let me get used to it, and then gradually got faster and faster. i must admit that it was pretty exciting with the wind blowing over slaveís naked body. Scott was as good as his word; he stayed on back streets for about ten miles. i know it was ten miles, because thatís how far it is from Masterís house to the college, and that is where we ended up. At the guardís kiosk, Scott turned around, and headed back to Masterís house.
We passed a lot of people. i donít know if they thought i was wearing a thong bikini, or didnít look, or just didnít care, but we attracted a surprising lack of attention. A couple of cars came up behind us, and then passed us, (Scott was careful to go the speed limit), people did yell things, but i couldnít make out what.
When we got back to Masterís house, Stephanie stepped in front of the electric eye to open the gate. i could see on her face that something was wrong. Then i saw Masterís car in the garage. Scott stopped the bike and i got off, took off Stephís helmet, and handed it to her.
"o, go in the house." It was Masterís voice. He was on the porch, but i hadnít seen Him.
"Yes, Master. May i speak?" i tried to sound pathetic, but Master wasnít buying it.
"No, go inside and wait for me in the playroom." Masterís voice suggested that there was to be no debate.
Master didnít say a word while i walked to and through the front door. Later i learned, from Steph that He told them that He did not want to embarrass them by reproaching them in front of me.
Steph confessed that she was so upset sheís not sure exactly what He said, but it was something about what a dumb stunt that was. He admitted He didnít know Scott that well, but He expected more common sense from Stephanie. Scott interjected that i hadnít worn anything except the helmet which was required by law.
Master told him that that was the point, exactly. What if Scott had tipped over the motorcycle; what good was a display slave with scars all over her body? He told Stephanie that she was going to see the consequences of her thoughtlessness, and she could include Scott if she wished. He told her to be at The Roundup at 9:00 that evening; no excuses.
He left them and came into the house where His very frightened slave was waiting. i hadnít been disciplined in quite awhile, but i was sure that i would be today. Master sat in His easy chair and instructed me to kneel in front of Him.
"What were you thinking, o?" He demanded.
"i guess i really wasnít thinking, Master. Scott was so excited about his new motorcycle and he said i didnít have to break any rules, like getting dressed, except for the helmet, and thatís the law, so i thought you would be okay with that, and we were only gone about a half hour and..." i was rambling and i knew it.
"o, stop it. This is not about breaking rules. What if Scott had dumped the bike; besides possibly getting badly hurt, do you know what you would look like?" He was sounding very serious and scary.
"i guess that wasnít very bright, was it Master?" i tried to sound like the little girl scolded, but He wasnít buying that either.
"No, o, it wasnít, and I am going to impress upon you, and Stephanie, just how stupid that little adventure was. Go into your room and wait." i knew that couldnít be a good thing. slaveís room is used for exercise, training, and discipline, and i had a pretty good idea which it was going to be this afternoon.
i stood in slaveís room for what seemed like hours. i have no idea how long it really was because the only time pieces in there are timers; no clocks. Finally, Master came in. He took slaveís wrists and fastened the cuffs to a chain hanging from a beam in the ceiling. When He removed slaveís three-inch soled mules, i was on tip toes, and stretched about as much as i could stretch.
Master went to the cabinet and picked a bamboo cane. He walked around me and stopped in front of me. "o, do you understand why I am so upset and disappointed in you?"
"Yes, Master, because i might have disfigured Your display slave." my voice cracked with emotion, and fright. i knew this cane well.
"Yes, that is certainly part of it, but you could have been seriously hurt and the more so because you were naked, if you had..."
"But, Master, Scott was very careful, and..." that was a mistake, and i knew it instantly. A slave does not interrupt slaveís Master, especially when He is already pretty pissed off.
"Be quiet, o." His voice was very controlled but i could tell that He was seriously upset with me. "I havenít had to discipline you in some time, so just as a reminder, you count the strokes to yourself, and thank me at every fifth stroke. Do you remember o?"
"Yes, Master, i remember very well, Master." i also remembered that if i was to receive just a few strokes, He would have instructed me to thank Him every stroke, every fifth stroke was for a more intense discipline. It might be a long afternoon.
Master began slowly, and, i canít really say lightly, but it did get worse; a lot worse. He started so slowly that i almost wanted to scream, ĎCome on letís get on with it and get it over with.í But, of course, i didnít. He took me from stinging like a swat with a fly swatter, just enough to wake the endorphins and let them know i would be needing them soon, to gasping pain, into the zone that i sometimes get into, and finally to fainting.
The session must have lasted for almost two hours. i know this because Scott mentioned, as we were about home, that it was almost 5:30, and when Master finished with me, it was past seven thirty (i sneaked a peek at Masterís watch). There were pauses, of course, but none long enough for me to really get slaveís mental equilibrium.
When it was over, slaveís body looked like a zebra or a tiger, but instead of black stripes like a zebra, slaveís were red or purple. Between slaveís arm pits and knees, i was covered with stripes the width of Masterís cane. If i had had the presence of mind, i could have counted the strokes pretty quickly. Master uses the cane to make tally marks on slaveís skin; you know, four welts one direction and then one diagonally across the first four. That fifth one always hurts a little (okay, quite a bit) more because it crosses the other four, and makes it easier to remember to thank Master on that stroke.
i was in Masterís arms, when i recovered, but reclining on the floor. He helped me to slaveís feet, and took me to the mirror. i could hardly walk. i hurt all over, not just where the cane had struck, but everywhere, from slaveís head to slaveís toes, inside and out.
Master stood next to me in the reflection of the mirror, and asked, "Is this adequate to impress upon you not to go on motorcycle rides without sufficient protection, o?"
slaveís voice crackled with emotion as i answered, "Yes, Master, i am so very sorry that i disappointed you. i hope to never do it again." And believe me, i meant every word.
Master instructed me to assume the standing position facing the mirror, and left me there for, i would guess, fifteen to twenty days, okay, minutes. Upon returning, Master gave me the mini dress that has a strip of stretch lace at the top that fits under slaveís arms, and holds the dress up. He instructed me to put it on. The stretch lace felt like a band of barbed wire around me over the marks of the cane. The hem is about three inches below slaveís sex so some welts were clearly visible below the dress and a few just above the lace strip. Of course, the dress is so sheer that all the welts were visible to anyone looking closely.
i was instructed to wait on the porch. The cool air felt like fire on slaveís fresh welts. Master brought out the car and instructed me to get in. It was all i could do to walk to the car. i couldnít imagine how i was going to sit down.
It was worse than i thought. i lifted the skirt so that slaveís bare ass would be on the leather, and when i sat, i screamed so loud that iím sure the neighbors could hear. i tried to settle in, but there was no comfortable position. The eight mile ride to The Roundup was total torture. There was absolutely no way for me to sit comfortably, so, with Masterís permission, i rode part of the way supporting slave with slaveís arms so that slaveís butt didnít rest on the seat.
i guess i should explain that The Roundup is a bar that caters to motorcyclists and students from the local college, and does so with a limited amount of confrontation.
When Master parked the car in the lot, He came around, opened the door and helped me out. Even walking was painful, and the fifty or sixty feet to the door of the bar was agony.
As W/we walked in, i spotted Stephanie at a table with Scott. Master led me to where they were seated, placed a 9x12inch envelope on the table, and sat down. i was so focused on slaveís pain that i hadnít noticed the envelope before. Master addressed Steph, "Thank you for meeting U/us, Stephanie." And then me, "It is probably too painful for you to sit, o, so why donít you go into the ladyís room and wait for instructions."
"Yes, Master." iím not sure just how i got to the restroom between the pain of walking and the fear of what was coming. But i walked into the restroom and waited.
After a few minutes Stephanie came in with the envelope. In an emotion drenched voice she apologized, "I am sooooo sorry, o. I had no idea that a quick bike ride would end like this."
i tried to reassure her, "Thatís okay, Mistress Stephanie, you couldnít know."
Steph half whispered, "Steven told me to tell you to take off your dress and put it in this envelope, and you are to wear the sign thatís in it, and hand one of the informational sheets to each person who comes in here." She opened the envelope and took out a lightweight, 81/2x51/2 piece of white cardboard on which was printed, "What can happen when you ride a motorcycle naked!" Master had apparently printed it on His computer. The sign had a little string attached to the top corners. Steph stepped behind me, positioned the sign just below slaveís collar and tied the string at the back of slaveís neck.
The sheets of paper in the envelope had "safety tips" for motorcyclists apparently printed from an internet site.
i removed slaveís dress, folded it and put it in the envelope. i could see a look of, almost, terror on Stephís face as she saw, clearly now, the extent of slaveís caning. "Oh, dear god, o. i know you say that your whippings are usually almost as erotic as they are painful but..."
"Yup, this one moved fairly quickly to and through the erotic stage and settled in on the painful. i actually passed out this time." i realized how scary that might sound to Steph, so i quickly added, "But Master was there, taking care of me, when i recovered. iíll be just fine, but i may not sit down for a few days... or months."
Steph took the envelope and whispered, "Iím so sorry, o; Iíll be right back." She turned and walked out the door.
While she was gone, i quickly counted the number of sheets. There were twenty-five or thirty. i didnít get an accurate count because i still wasnít functioning at one hundred percent.
Steph came back without the envelope. "Mistress Stephanie, did Master say i had to give away all of the sheets? There are, like, thirty sheets here. i donít think there were thirty people out there, much less thirty women."
i could hear how difficult this was for her, by Stephanieís voice, "Iím sorry, o. He said you had to give them all away. Only one per person and if you ran out of women, you could go to the menís room. Iím so sorry, o. I canít tell you..."
i interrupted her, "Would you cut it out, this is not your fault. There was no way..." i stopped at the sound of the door opening. Two women, walked in. From their attire, i guessed they were bikers. i watched the lips of one move as she read the sign around slaves neck, while the second just stared. The first said, "Shit girl that doesnít look like road rash to me. How the hell did you do that?"
slaveís voice sort of squeaked, "It isnít road rash, Mistress. This is what Master did to me because i rode naked on a motorcycle. i guess that is what the sign means."
The second woman asked, "What do you mean, you Ďguess thatís what the sign means?í"
Steph interrupted, "Her Master caned her, and then had me put that sign around her neck. She is supposed to give everyone who comes in here one of those." She nodded her head toward the paper sheets in slaveís hands.
i offered a sheet to each woman. "Please, donít throw it away until you are in the bar so that Master can see that i have given it to you... please."
The second women stepped closer and ran her hand over the welts on slaveís hips. i winced at the pain of her touch. She gasped, "Hay suce, those are some mean frickiní welts. I guess that collar, and rings, and stuff, is serious shit with you, uh?"
"Yes, Mistress, it is very serious."
"Well, better you than me, babe." The two women did what they came in for, and left holding their informative sheets.
Almost immediately two more women came in, and did not seem surprised to see me. i guessed that the first two women told these two to go see the show in the bathroom.
These two were obviously bikers. They wore leather from neck to toes. "Holy crap, girl, thatís why you wear this shit." One admonished, indicating her leathers, "But you didnít get that falliní off no bike."
i could feel the emotion building up inside me. slaveís eyes began to tear, but i was determined not to actually cry, or bawl, which is what i really felt like doing.
"No, Mistress, i got these because i rode naked on a motorcycle, but the marks, themselves, were made by a cane in the hand of slaveís Master." i just wanted to cry and this was only sheets three and four. "Please, take one of these, and take it back to your table with you so that Master can see that i gave it to you."
"Sure, Doll, weíll play your kinky little game." These two left without actually using the facilities; apparently they came in just for the entertainment.
"How are you doing, o, you wanna sit down? Oh, god, that was stupid, of course you donít want to sit down. Iím sorry, o" Stephís face was tomato red.
"Mistress Stephanie, if you say youíre sorry, one more time, iíll scream. iím doing just fine considering that i am a walking cane welt, on display, naked, in a barís bathroom. How many more women do you suppose are out there?"
"I donít know; Iíll look." As Steph went out, three young college girls came in. They had obviously not been warned. The first one to see me all but screamed, "Holy crap. Are you okay? What the fuck happened?" Then she started to read, "What can happen when... you didnít do that in a bike accident?"
"No, Mistress, i went for a motorcycle ride naked, and this is Masterís way of showing His displeasure. Would you each, please, take one of these sheets back to your table so that Master can see that i gave it to you, please?" i pleaded.
One of the other two women spoke, but not to me, "Oh... my... god! You know who this is?! Have you guys heard the rumors about a Ďslave girlí who goes around naked or practically, and lives around here. Everybody in school has heard about her, but I never believed it. I thought it was like the Loch Ness monster or somethiní" Now she addressed me, "Youíre her, arenít you? Youíre the naked slave girl."
"Yes, Mistress, i guess i am, although i suppose there could be another one..."
The three women laughed, "Oh sure, right! Wait Ďtil I tell Brett. I told him he should come tonight."
Two of the girls did what they came in for; the third walked around me and asked, "What does it feel like to be beaten like that?"
i paused for a moment and then offered, "Mistress, it can be pretty erotic if it is done right, and Master knows how to do it right. But it can be pretty god awful, if that is His intention, and this evening that was His objective."
"And... so... you... like... just stood there... and, like, let him do this to you?" she seemed incredulous.
i tried to explain, but knew it wasnít really possible. "It is not possible to take this evening out of context and understand it. As your friend determined, i am a slave and He is slaveís Master. So i didnít Ďjust stand there and let Him do ití. i gave Him permission years ago by accepting Him as slaveís Master. Master almost never whips me just for the hell of it. Predominantly, like today, when He disciplines me, it is with cause."
"There isnít enough Ďcauseí in the frickiní world that would persuade me to let anyone do that to me!" the tone of her voice provided the exclamation mark.
The other two women finished their business; each took an info sheet and started for the door. The one who didnít need to use the bathroom turned back, asking, "Do you have to give them all away? How many are there?"
"About thirty." Slaveís voice did not exude confidence.
"There arenít anywhere near thirty women out there; what if you..."
Knowing where that was going, i interrupted, "Master said that i would have to go to the menís room if i failed to give them all away here."
"Oh, my god" the three chorused as they left the bathroom giggling.
Steph returned and broke the bad news that there werenít even a dozen women in the bar, including the bartender. We waited in the ladiesí room for what iím sure was shorter than the days it seemed to me to be. Finally, slaveís curiosity triumphed over slaveís patience. "Steph, how many women do you think are out there now, and arenít they drinkiní any beer?"
"I donít know, o, Iíll go look." She went out and came back almost instantly. "Oh my gawd, o. The place is packed with college guys. I bet those bitches called every guy within miles. Iím so sor..."
At that moment there was a knock on the door. Steph opened it. "Steven."
"Are you two alone in there?"
"Yes... We were just..."
Master stepped around Stephanie and came to me. He clipped one end of a leash to the ring in slaveís collar. "o, W/we are going home, but before W/we get to the front door I expect you to have given all of those sheets away. Do you understand?"
"Oh, yes, Master. Thank you, Master."
Master led me past Steph and out the restroom door and down the short hall. When W/we entered the bar itself, i could see that it was packed with college guys and the three women, two still on their cell phones, probably calling up reinforcements.
Suddenly someone yelled, "pussy" and then the bar broke into a chant of "pus-sy, pus-sy, pus-sy." slaveís knees buckled, but i caught Masterís arm and held slave up. Now i remembered the info sheets. i handed one to the guy nearest me, then another. The chanting died down, and i could hear men yelling things, but it would be later in the evening, at Masterís home, before i would know what most of them were. Master and Scott and Stephanie would have to remind me, because i was in one of those erotic fogs i get into.
Master led me along the bar which was two-deep with college guys. i handed each guy a sheet. Some took it very politely, some with a word or two, generally about slaveís "nice tits" or "smooth pussy" etc. One guy gave slaveís butt a little slap that would have been nothing on an un-caned behind, but it elicited a screech tonight. He just laughed.
One guy took the sheet and said, "You do this for money, right? How much?"
I said, "i beg your pardon, Sir, but i do it for love." The man was probably five or six years slaveís junior but the rules are i call all men Sir. He just shook his head.
One guy that looked like the typical computer geek, or an accounting major, took the sheet and in a very weak voice asked, "Can I feel your cunt?"
That kind of caught me off guard. i hate that word but i looked at Master and He nodded, so i said, "Yes, Sir, please do," and spread slaveís legs a little further apart. He reached down and wiped his hand over slaveís sex. i squirmed a little more than a little as his hand crossed the marks of Masterís cane. The geek took his hand and wiped slaveís juice on the face of the guy next to him, saying "See, I told you sheís gettingí off on this. Pay up Dude"
One guy took the flyer with one hand and squeezed slaveís breast with the other. He squeezed so hard that slaveís knees buckled and Master had to grab me to keep me from falling onto the floor.
One of the women started to reach between slaveís legs, but Master wagged His finger at her and she relented.
Before W/we reached the end of the bar, by the door to the outside, i had given out all of the information sheets. Master asked Cari, the bartender, what He owed her and she replied, "These guys will more than make up for your tab; weíll call it even. And, hey, any time you, and she, want to stop by, you are more than welcome; ANY TIME." Master thanked her, left a twenty on the bar and led me to the door.
i didnít realize how hot and flushed i had gotten until W/we went out the door. It felt as if W/we walked into a meat freezer and it just isnít that cold this time of year. As W/we walked toward the car, Master asked Scott and Steph to stop by His house for a drink on their way home.
Steph answered for both, "Oh, we would love to, thank you, Steven."
Master warned that they might beat U/us home because He was going to take the long way just to be sure that no one got the idea of finding out where the, now confirmed to be real, slave girl lived. i looked over slaveís shoulder and saw about a dozen guys and three girls watching us walk to Masterís car.
He opened the door and i got in. With all that had gone on, i had, incredibly, sort of forgotten about the welts until slaveís ass hit the leather and i screamed again. Master allowed me to support slaveís weight with slaveís arms.
Master started His car and, sure enough, two sets of guys went to their cars. But i guess they just needed to get back to school, and their homework, or something, because after a couple of blocks they turned toward the college.
At home Master swiped His card and Scott and Stephanie, who had, in fact, arrived first, followed U/us through the gate. i got out of Masterís car and assumed slaveís position in the spotlight, at the front door, joined by Scott and Steph. Momentarily Master opened the door and invited us in. W/we went into the playroom. i took drink requests, and prepared the drinks and some salmon and cheese and crackers.
When i entered the playroom, Master was quizzing Scott and Stephanie, "So, after sharing oís discipline, may I assume that you will be a little more sensitive to what is, and is not, expected of her?"
i set the tray of food on the table and presented the tray with Masterís sparkling wine which He took, then Scottís beer and Stephís wine and then i took slaveís sparkling wine.
Master allowed that i could kneel by Him in any position that was comfortable. i suggested that comfortable was probably not an option tonight, but thanked Him and kneeled on slaveís legs without resting slaveís butt on slaveís heels, which would have been normal.
Steph sounded very sincere, "Oh, yes, Steven. I canít tell you how sorry we are. We just didnít think. Was it just horrible, o? I donít know how you could stand the whipping and then the humiliation at The Roundup..."
"Well, technically speaking, i guess i really didnít Ďstandí the caning since, actually, i fainted, but..."
Steph cut me short, "How many strokes did you get, o?"
"i donít know. When i get excited some things escape me..."
"Stand up o." Master instructed. "You can count them Stephanie, as you can see they are in groups of five."
Steph began to count, Five, ten, fifteen, twenty..." Master had me turn as necessary. "...sixty-two. Oh, my god, o, how could you do it?" i couldnít quite tell if it was horror or awe, or both, in Stephís voice.
"Master is very good at pacing me. And, actually, your count doesnít include the early strokes that didnít leave marks. Those strokes just sort of establish the mood and help me build up to the serious ones."
Steph was full of questions tonight, "What were you thinking in The Roundup? You were so brave. Didnít you just want to die when they started chanting Ďpussyí?"
"Thatís another case where slaveís selective memory comes in handy. i hardly remember it. i remember someone shouting Ďpussyí and then a kind of rhythmic chant, but not so much what they were chanting."
"Did you hear the guys saying how gorgeous you were? And what a fantastic body you have? And how much they wanted to fuck you? And one guy who said Steven must be the richest and/or luckiest guy in the world, because if you would do what you did tonight, there canít be anything you wouldnít do."
i couldnít keep from giggling a little. "Well, iím pretty sure Master isnít the richest man in the world, i hope He feels like the luckiest, but that guy was right about one thing; i canít think of anything Master could demand of me that i wouldnít do, or try to do.Ē
Master cupped slaveís chin in His hand and turned slaveís face to His and kissed me lovingly.
"You know, I have to admit that sometimes I envy you, o." Steph looked at Scott and quickly added, "Donít get any ideas Scott. But tonight, I just canít imagine how you got through it. When you walked through that bar, there must have been twenty or thirty guys who all wanted to put their hands on your tits and ass. And when that one girl tried to stick her finger inside you, I wanted to die, and I was just watching."
i didnít burst Stephanieís bubble by explaining that i didnít remember half of what she was describing, and that was just fine with me.
"If that had been me, I would have probably gone insane right there in the middle of the bar. That has got to be an experience that has been scorched into your mind for life."
"i think that is what Master had in mind, Mistress Stephanie; Something that would leave a lasting impression, on all of us. It worked for me, and from what you have said, i guess it worked for you, too. i confess tonight was as difficult as anything Master has required of me. There were a couple of times when i thought i was just going to collapse into a fetal position and cry for a week or two. i know this sounds sophomoric, and iíve told you before, but in situations like that i just keep telling slave, ĎMaster is going to be so proud of me when i get through thisí, and, so far, that has worked to get me through everything He has required of me.í"
"Isnít it degrading to be walked on a leash like that?" Scott asked in a tone that suggested that he knew the answer.
"As a matter of fact, i dislike being walked on the leash always, but more when i am dressed, and on the street or at a party or function, than in a situation like tonight. In circumstances like tonight, i love the reassurance that Master is only the length of the leash away." As i was answering Scott, i realized that i hadnít really thought of it quite that way before, but it is absolutely true. i will try to transfer that feeling to the less challenging times that i am leashed, which are still quite difficult for me.
After some time, having finished O/our drinks, and Scott and Steph apparently out of questions, they excused themselves and left.
i couldnít believe i had the energy to suck Masterís wonderful cock, but as soon as i felt it in slaveís mouth i knew i wanted to suck it for hours and i did for well over an hour. After feasting on Masterís delicious cum, i oiled and powdered His beautiful cock and finally wrote in slaveís journal.
As i wrote, ii realized what great pride i was taking in having endured what, just a few years ago, i wouldnít have even been able to imagine could happen to anyone, and certainly not me.
A half dozen times, i looked at slaveís reflection in the mirror over the dresser and saw a warm and wonderful smile on slaveís lips. It had been a very trying evening but i still love being Masterís slave and would not trade places with anyone.