She met them at a party. Her Master grabbed her hand and pulled her over to a corner where they were standing and chatting to each other. She knew they would meet tonight, since she'd been flirting over message with the man, at her Master's request. She knew it would be interesting to see them in person, and she was a little nervous, wondering if they'd like her, and a little curious if she would be attracted to them.
Sometimes her Master has her fuck people she's not attracted to, just to impose his will. But this wasn't going to be one of those times.
After that night, the adrenaline rush of being on show, and seeing them play out of the corner of her eye, the conversation quickly became more intense. One morning, a fantasy was put forward by message and she found herself so wet she couldn't think straight.
Could this be where one of her secret fantasies would come true? A fantasy she hadn't shared even with her Master yet. Even after his mental slut training, his many months of imprinting images in her head, and making her cum to visions of her sluthood, she wondered if he knew that his messaging had stuck as well as this? Her fantasy was on one hand simple and on another elaborate. As she lay back and held the doxy to her clit she allowed the images to flow through her mind.
She's waiting on her knees, not nude but not far from it. Her diaphenous dress doesn't leave as much to the imagination as she might have chosen for herself. Her pussy is wet from the orgasm her Master just pulled from her, he wanted her to be dripping when they arrived. He wanted them to know how wet she was thinking about what was about to happen.
When they enter she doesn't quite meet their eyes. His smirk looks familiar, her Master wears a similar one. Her outfit is immediately sexy. Her Master asks them if they can get either of them a drink, and they accept. He clicks his finger at her and she rises, to prepare what's been asked for. Carefully she pours, aware that her hands are shaking a little, there is small irregular clinking as the bottle vibrates against the glasses.
When she's served the drinks, her Master pulls her in by the collar and gives whr a deep, owning kiss. They take a seat, among the cushions, while she kneels next to her Master, his hand on her head and her head on his knee.
There is some discussion which she joins only when she's asked to, some of which consists of comments appraising her.
'Don't you think her tits look good this evening?' She sits back on her feet, and arches her back to show them off better.
'I chose her underwear to show off her ass.' She turns around, to show them.
The question is there in the air, as yet unspoken. 'Don't you want to touch her?'
When the drinks are drained. Her Master stands, and goes to pick up some ropes. 'Do you want to see how I can tie her for this evening?'
She crawls over to him, kneeling again. It's not long before her arms are bound next to her body, tight enough that she can't remove them, but not obstructing her tits, or other more useful parts. She knows that she will not be permitted to resist, but she wonders if she'll want to.
She is maneuvered onto her back. The couple stand and move closer to her, watching what's happening. One by one her thighs are opened, and tied into the chest rope, her legs are opened. She won't be able to close them now, not until he unties her. Which she imagines will be much later.
'There's only one problem' she hears agreement by everyone in the room. Her Master goes to pick up some scissors, carefully placing them around the crotch of her already small thong. With a single snip the small protection the panties gave her is gone. She is exposed, and fully. She closes her eyes, her own way of trying to escape the humiliation of being opened and watched. She realises that she is holding her breath. Waiting.
She cums before she can finish the fantasy, hard spasms seem to rack her whole body, a beat of sweat falls from her forehead to the bed. She should stop, but somehow she can't. She turns the doxy up, and after a short break, turns her mind back to the fantasy.
In the room, she looks to the side and sees that the other woman is tied up on much the same way she is. They are close enough to touch each other, or they would be if their hands weren't tied as they are.
Spread as she is, she makes the perfect target. She squirms as she is subjected to various implements, which hit at a barely tollerable rhythm. First is the flogger, which starts off slow, warming up her skin for further torture.
'Give me a number' the man who is not her Master orders.
She chooses unwisely '3?' He and her Master chuckle.
The intensity of the flogging increases, the aim is varied, from her thigh to her ass and sometimes, the strike is direct to her pussy. Her pale skin, tinged with redness starts to burn. Pain builds, but applied with breathing space between hits, it builds into a hazy acceptance. This is her fate, and the more she accepts it, the wetter she gets. Time seems to blur, at the same time minutes seem like hours, hours seem to pass like seconds. Different implements come and go, each leaving their marks.
She flinches when the first intimate touch happens. She has been blindfolded and everything feels more intense. She didn't know when it would come, or who it would be that touched her. Her lips are opened and she feels a finger enter her, or is it two fingers? She hears something familiar begin to buzz nearby and moans when the doxy connects with her clit. She feels very sensitive, and there is something unfamiliar about the way his fingers move in and out of her. He turns the power on the doxy up, and it doesn't take long until she is begging her Master to cum. For a moment she tries to resist, but it flooded with relief when the permission is granted just in time.
Back in her real world, her body bucks and shivers, cumming hard again on her own fingers. Exhausted she closes her eyes and rests before going back to her work day.
It's the next day before she gets a chance to revisit the fantasy she was exploring, the day before she had been distracted by it. Going to the bathroom at her workplace when she needed to calm down, and prevent her hard nipples from poking through her dress. Even though she's heard her Master's fantasy in many forms, this the first time she's thought up one of her own. It feels different to imagine real people in the fantasy, rather than a vague sense of someone else. It feels more specific, which let's her go deeper into the feeling and desire. She has been analysing herself, and figuring out which elements come from her mind, and which parts come from her Master's, and she's surprised to find how much of her was in it.
Getting home, she knows there is time to explore the fantasy further, before her Master gets home. Even though strictly speaking she's not allowed to masterbate, she has specific permission to help with her own conditioning. The more she thinks about being a slut when she cums, the more of a slut she will become. This rule her Master set for her when his slut training began. She finds it embarrassing how well she is committing to her own slavery. After all, a slave should be a slut.
She's curious so she tries to imagine being a slut of totally her own deciding. The idea feels empty and dry. Then she thinks again of being a slut by his mastery, being forced into it by his will and she can feel her own arousal grow again. She turns her mind back to the image as she left it the day before.
Blindfolded, she can sense a subtle difference between the two men that take their turns on her. The moans of the other tied woman, mingle with her own, adding to her pleasure. At some points it feels like listening to porn in real life. She recalls a video she likes to watch, one entitled 'Slave pays her Master's debts' and she imagines herself being used as a bargaining chip, a toy to trade. Which she supposes she is, in a slightly less literal way.
She thinks she can feel the difference between who is fucking her and when, but at some points she is lost. Who's hand is on her neck, choking her as they thrust into her? Who is it that slaps her face when she tries to resist a little? Sometimes she thinks she knows the owning touch of her Master, and sometimes she is not sure. The confusion makes her question who is taking his pleasure with her, and how she should respond. At one point she almost whispers 'please may I cum?' And is surprised by the agreement which comes from much further away than she thought. At this point though it's far too late and she finds herself convulsing on the cock of someone much more unknown than she expected.
This thought which sounds like something directly from her Master's mouth pushes her over the edge once again.
She shivers as she hears the door unlocking, and the familiar sound of his footsteps coming up the stairs. She doesn't have enough time to put away the vibrator, so she just sits there waiting for him to see her, a deer in headlights.
He strides over to her, standing above her as she sits on the edge of the bed. He holds out his hand, and she passes the vibrator to him wordlessly. He lifts the end up to his nose and takes a sniff. She reddens.
'Tell me' his voice is soft but firm. 'Tell me what your were imagining'
She closes her eyes and mumbles. Somehow this honesty embarasses her. Isn't it strange that no matter how many times your honesty is forced, it still feel embarrassing to share it? His hand reaches for her chin, lifting it to force her to hold his eye contact.
'Speak clearly', he says and she begins.
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