Step right up! Step right up! Come and see the mysteries of the captive slavegirl. You can see her, but she can’t see you. Our blindfold ensures complete privacy. Marvel at her collar, her leash, the boots that encase her legs. See how obediently she follows commands. Watch as she kneels, crawls, turns around and spreads her legs for your enjoyment. See her embarassment at her nakedness. See her blush as her Master describes what he likes doing to her. Free admission. Come one, come all !!!!
I did feel a bit like one of those animals in a freak show. I was half expecting another head to grow or the bruise on my bum to turn into a picture of the Virgin Mary. At least that way, I would have had more of a reason to feel like I should be on display. As it was, it was just another occasion for Master to get the up-most enjoyment out of my forced exit through the boundaries of my comfort zone.
My brazillian this morning was…..in a word….painful. The girl came into the room and said with the upmost seriousness,
“Just before I lift your towel, I want to know. You went and did it, didn’t you?”
(peeling back the towel) “Oh my god! I’ve seen a lot in my time, but I ain’t never seen that!”
The last time I had graced her table of torture was just before I was got my remaining 4 rings done. I’d told her what was happening and said that I’d be completed the next time she saw me. I came, she lifted, then laughed. This time, the poor girl waxed what she could, then had to settle for tweasing out the hairs between my rings. I’m not sure what hurt more. When she was done, I peeled myself off the plastic sheet covering the table and there was a veritable pool of sweat there. I hadn’t sweat that much from pain since the last time I was educated….lol. You want to give an unruly slave an education? Just threaten to get her waxed.
Sans pussy hair I came home,
“Naked, boots, blindfold, cage. Now.”
It was time for inspection. I’d been worrying about it all week but I came to the conclusion somewhere around Friday afternoon that it was going to happen no matter what I thought about it and that there was nothing I could do to make myself look better. He was going to see me warts and all and there was shit all I could do to change that fact.
I didn’t really get nervous until I got into the cage. It was like waiting in the wings just before you go on stage-there’s an immense fear, but also a feeling that you have to go on. Through the blindfold I could see light and dark and faint outlines. Naked and leashed in my cage, when the doorbell rang and Master answered it, I had no idea who it was that stepped into my world.
“So, this is the bad girl.”
“Yes, good, bad, indifferent. That’s her.”
I wasn’t allowed to speak, but I couldn’t hide my smirk at Master’s comment. It almost felt like he was goading me into talking, just to see if I would disobey him or not. They sat down on the lounge with drinks and talked about me. Master went through the rules of my use and talked a bit about what my alter ego, the henny-penny teacher chick, did and what her plans were for next year. I was then brought out of the cage, hands cuffed and some turning, walking, bending and spreading ensued.
“She’s quite obedient.”
“Yes and when she’s not, she has a visit from my tawse. She’s not a painslut, but I like cropping her. She has a fantasy of being kept and used. So, anal, oral, vaginal, when her rings heal, it’s up to you.”
15 minutes or 15 years later, he left with the comment, ‘That was as good as a cold beer’ and we were alone again.
“That was hot.”
“You’re telling me, I was dripping with sweat!….or do you mean ‘hot’ in the ‘exciting’ sense?”
“Get in my bed, now!”