Conversation

You reach over and stroke my hair, and I turn my head to kiss the inside of your wrist.

"I know you are getting tired. Wake me up when you need to stop next, and I'll take over the driving for a while."

"Thank you. It has been a long night."

"Now be a good girl and turn on the heat - it is chilly in here, even if you're not exactly aware of it right now. And pull that skirt up a little more - I can barely see the tops of your stockings, and I want to see it all."

You are asleep before we merge onto the freeway, but while I'm terribly underdressed (and practically undressed) for the weather, the cab of the truck is warm and almost cozy, and I love that you trust me enough to sleep while I drive.

Some of the truck drivers must have heard about us, because every time one passes me or I pass them, they wave or flash their lights. This continues until we are quite far from the rest area, so evidently gossip is alive and well among the trucking community.

I continue to drive and listen to soft music in the warm cab, and within a couple of hours I begin to get sleepy. I don't want to wake you, as you are sleeping so peacefully, but I know that if I wait too long you will be angry.

As I pass yet another gas station, I see a sign that says "Next services 28 miles". We will need gas by then, and I am certain I will be able to fall asleep quickly after we stop, so I plan to go to the next station and then awaken you.

Before I have the chance to start the truck, someone has approached your window and is making it known that he would like a word with you. I turn on the engine and roll down the window so that he can speak his piece, as I feel my face becoming more and more flushed.

"How do you get her to do that?" "Do what?" "Obey you like that - follow your lead."

"Oh, she does it because it pleases me, and she wants to please me. That's all."

"Boy, if that is all it took, my wife would be listening to me. I know she loves me, but she'd never do those things for me." "Perhaps she would if you asked."

He shakes his head and says good bye to us both, then turns and walks back to the sidewalk where his wife is waiting. I recognise her. She is the one who dragged him out of the building when she saw who, or rather, what I am. I have to laugh, even though I'm no longer cold anywhere. I think my entire body blushed this time.

I drop to my knees, and you lead me to the other building. It seems dry inside, so I stay on my knees as we enter. You are smiling as we approach the vending machines, and ask me what I would like to drink. "How about some Coke? We both like that."

I nod my assent, and you put the money into the machine. The door to the building opens, and I hear footsteps as a couple of people draw near to us. I see the woman's face as she recognises that I'm not a dog, I'm a person kneeling at my Master's feet in the vending area. She hurries to make her selection, grabs her husband by the arm and practically drags him back out into the snow.

"Are you hungry, pet?" "Just a bit, Sir." You lead me to the other vending machine and start looking for something that isn't going to give me a sugar high followed by a massive drop - we have a long day ahead.

"I think we will wait until we need gas again, and then we'll find something for both of us." "Of course, Sir."

You lead me out the door, carrying the drink and keeping me on a short leash so that I don't wander or get stuck in the deeper snow on the lawn. There's no way of knowing what is under there, and you never want me to be hurt.

We get back to the truck and you have me stand beside you. I love being next to you, and you seem to be fond of my company as well. You open the door for me, then go around to the passenger side and climb in.

"All set?" "Yes, Master. I am ready."

"Then let's get going - and put the heater on. You look cold."

I follow you into the restroom, trying not to look around. I keep my eyes on the floor, which is wet and nasty, while you lead me to the urinals. I am hoping you'll allow me to continue to stand, rather than having me kneel by your side.

You look at me, then at the floor, and suggest that I wash my hands while you relieve yourself. You give me just enough slack in the leash to reach the sink, and I grab a paper towel to turn on the faucet.

I use plenty of soap, as I'm pretty sure just being in here has completely covered me in germs, and lots of the hottest possible water. I hear you finish and zip your pants as I am drying my hands on another paper towel, and you take up the slack in my leash as you approach me.

You wash your hands and begin leading me out of the room when the truck driver enters, looks at us and grins. You smile back and lead me into the lobby. I find myself staring at the floor, just to avoid seeing anyone else, and hoping we are going to be leaving very soon.

I'm busy watching the floor, and you pull on my leash to get me to start moving again. We are heading away from the maps (I still don't know where we are going, darn it) and toward the exit. You look back at me, and you have that grin on your face... I know something is about to happen.

You take up the slack in my leash until I am walking beside you and as we leave the building you say, "The snow looks pretty clean, doesn't it?" "Yes..." "Good. Then it shouldn't be a problem for you to get down on all fours until we reach the other building, now should it?"

We continue to walk toward the buildings, where I hope there is some sort of heat. "We'll need to pick up something for you to drink to help keep you awake while you're driving, pet. But first I need to use the bathroom, and we will both need to wash our hands."

We walk through the first building, where the vending machines are housed, and out into the cold to approach the second building - the one with the highway maps and the restrooms.

You lead me to the doorway of the men's room, and I hesitate. "I can't leave you out here alone, and you need to wash up, so you'll just have to come in."

And my shy bladder kicks in. I can't go. I know that if I can just get started, it will be okay - my bladder is too full to stop once I've started. But it is cold, and I'm squatting in front of you, and you're watching, and it just isn't happening.

I know you're becoming impatient, standing out there in the cold, so I hang my head and force my abdominal muscles to push against my bladder. I push, and push, and finally, a trickle. But I know if I stop now, I'm never going to get started again, so I just keep pushing until my bladder is empty. It takes forever.

I look up at you when I've finished, and you let go of one of my hands to reach into your pocket. You hand me a couple of tissues to dry myself with, and when I've done so, you help me stand up.

I have the tissues crumpled up in my fist, and you smile at me, "Good girl." You use one hand to lift my chin for a kiss, and I feel as much as hear the snap of the leash onto my collar.

"Let's go." You turn to go back to the sidewalk, and I reach for your hand, only to find it occupied. You have the end of the leash around one wrist, and are holding it up out of the snow with the other hand as you lead me back to the sidewalk.

You hesitate near a trash can so that I can dispose of the tissues, then we start to walk toward the buildings. A large truck pulls in, blows his horn and waves, and suddenly the red in my cheeks isn't from the cold.

You ask if we've stopped because I need to pee, and I say that not only do I have to pee, but it is becoming pretty urgent.

We get out of the truck, and you walk around to me. "Are you my pet?"

"Um, yes?" "Then come with me."

You take my hand and we walk (rapidly - it really is urgent now) toward the buildings. The place is deserted at this hour of the morning, and the grass is covered with snow.

We reach the point where we need to turn to get to the bathrooms, and I try to do so, but you're holding my hand tightly and you turn your head and smile, "Not there, pet."

I knew that telling you I was your pet was an iffy proposition, just from the look in your eyes, but now I'm really wondering what you have in mind for me. I'm still in only my tiny skirt and blouse, stockings and high heels - surely you can't expect me to continue walking around with you when you know how badly I need to pee. And it is cold, which is making things worse, not better.

We reach the end of the sidewalk, and you lead me out into the snow. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

And then I do. I don't quite believe it - surely you must intend to turn around and let me return to the bathroom.

You lead me to a semi-secluded spot, and position yourself between me and the highway, "because it is your first time". Then you grin and say, "Squat."

I just look at you, dumbfounded. You remark that I had agreed that I am your pet, and this is the pet area, so I should now be squatting to relieve myself.

I know we aren't going anywhere until I comply, (and my bladder feels as though it is about to burst) so I take both your hands to steady myself and I squat in the snow.

Of course, the silly songs are soon followed by the sentimental, and I find myself close to tears as I sing along. Good thing that my bladder is beginning to demand attention. I'll have to stop at the next convenient place.

We need gas, so I'll head for the nearest station, and just hope that the bathroom is decent (and unlocked!)

I wait until we're pulling in to the station to awaken you, gently, leaning toward you and stroking your thigh, taking your hand in mine and raising it to my lips as I pull in next to the pump.

You wake up smiling... and my heart sings.

I am finding it very uncomfortable to drive, just because of the welts on my ass and thighs, and it is tempting to stop just to get out of the truck and walk around. But I know that if I tell you I need to stop now, when I really do need to go, you're not going to be happy with me.

So I squirm and wriggle in my seat, trying to find a position that doesn't hurt.

I turn on the radio, softly so I don't disturb your sleep, and find a station that is playing songs of the season, along with a few songs for the sad and lonely - usually my favorite sort - so I stick with it.

After Elvis' version of "Are You Lonesome Tonight" I look over at you, and thank heaven that I'm with you on this evening. But then the silly songs take over, at least for a while, and I find myself singing along as we make our way down the road. Even with the sore ass, I am glad to be making this trip with you. Even with no idea where the hell we're going.

Being this close to you is enough.

We are headed southwest, on route 77. I don't know how far south we are, but there are mountains coming up if we're going to follow this road to the end.

"Wake me up when you stop to go to the bathroom. You've been drinking coffee all night, so I imagine you'll need to go within the hour."

"But you need more sleep than that." "Oh, I'll sleep more, but I want to be with you wnen you're out of the truck."

I agree to wake you, and you settle down to sleep for a while as the sun starts to peek out over the tops of the hills.

I think it is going to be a long drive, and I know you're right about the coffee. I may not need to go this instant, but I will... and soon.

I watch as you and Arthur discuss what is to happen next. He doesn't seem too happy, but you are immovable - and you know me better than anyone, so I hope he will abide by your wishes.

You return to me and sit down, leaning forward to put your face next to mine. "I told him to warm you up first, but I don't know how well he was listening."

I feel a hand, not slapping, just touching my ass. "I think he may have taken your advise to heart." But then the spanking begins in earnest.

He starts off slowly, but soon builds up to the point where his spanking of Janice left off. I'm wriggling, trying to get away from the blows, and this seems to anger him. He stops using his hand and picks up the strap, intent on teaching me to remain still. He isn't very good with it, and misses my ass as often as he hits the target. I will have welts on my thighs as well as on my behind before he is through.

He really gets going, taking all his frustrations out on me, when you intervene. You remind him that I am going to need to walk when all this is over, and that if he harms me there will be hell to pay.

Arthur agrees to calm down, and begins again, slowly, You return to me and stand in front of my face. You look down at me and ask if I'm ready for my reward.
"Reward?" I ask. "Yes. You've been very good, and I think you have learned not to contradict me in public, so I have decided to reward you."

"Thank you, Master." You reach down and open your pants, pulling out your cock. You present it to me, and I stretch my neck out to reach you. I lick the head of your cock, and you move closer. allowing me to take you into my mouth.

Arthur is still working me over, but I no longer care. You are with me, inside me, and that is all that matters. I hope it never ends... but eventually it does.

Arthur grows tired of spanking me,even with the strap, and walks away. You pull out of my mouth (and I groan), walk to my side and begin soothing me with soft touches and caresses. God, I want you to take me right there. It doesn't matter who is in there with us. All I want is to feel you inside me, to have you cum in me, to carry your semen with me for the remainder of the day. But, alas, this is not to be. You untie my feet, and help me to stand. I lean against you as you close your pants and address Janice.

"Well, Janice, do you know what it is to want your Master's happiness more than your own? To want to please him so much that all you care about is his pleasure?"

Janice hops up and comes to your side, telling you that she will be delighted to finish where I left off, and that your pleasure will enhance her own immeasurably.

"Perhaps it would, but I am not your Master. Your Master is sitting over there patiently waiting for you to arrive at the conclusion that you just don't seem to get - you belong to him."

"But you've been training me, and I thought..." "You thought I would be taking you with me? Even with Slut here? Why would I do that? Your husband is willing and able to continue your instruction from here on out, and I think you should go over there and show him your appreciation."

Janice turns away from you and you remark, "And it is time for you to learn the joy of providing pleasure to your Master, Janice. Take off those clothes and get on your knees in front of your Master. Suck him off, make him cum in ways you would never have thought of before tonight, and love him more with each breath you take. Then you will both be ready to continue.

Janice removes her blouse,bra and what is left of her skirt, so that she is dressed in only the stockings and heels. She gets down on her knees and makes her way over to Arthur. He isn't helping her at all, and makes her ask for everything she desires. "Please,Arthur, may I suck you? May I take you in my mouth the way she took her Master and please you in that manner?"

He finally relents and assists her in opening his pants, but he makes her pull him out of his underwear with her lips, and insists that she stop calling him Arthur while she is serving him. He will be Sir, until he determines that she deserves to call him anything else.

The cook comes to the back door of the diner, and you realise that it is time for the place to reopen. We've been here all night, and I still have to get cleaned up and pack our bag of toys before we can leave. You send me to the ladies room to remove the plug (OUCH!!!) and clean it before putting it, and the strap and ropes away. You get my shoes back from Janice, but allow her to keep the stockings to assist her in remembering this night. As though she could ever forget being trained by you.

I put on my shoes, and jacket, and we get ready to leave the diner. You tip generously, and the waitress offers us some coffee to go so that I don't fall asleep at the wheel.

We walk out into the parking lot, still in the dark, and I ask,"So, where do we go from here?"

"I'll let you know."

As we are pulling out of the lot, we see the other couples getting into their cars, Janice still nude under her coat, and Arthur beaming like a man with a new toy. "I hope they will be all right," I remark, and you reply "Oh, I think they will. After all, they did come to us. We were just minding our own business when I was asked to take over her training. They will be fine so long as Arthur remembers how to both punish mistakes (and then forgive them) and reward good behavior, and even good intentions that don't always work out."

I pull onto the freeway, and I know that while they may find a way to make things work for them, Arthur will never be the Master you are. It just doesn't come as naturally to him, and he seems not to know his wife as well as you know me.

But we'll never know, and now we are off to a new adventure.

"Between the waistband and the tops of the stockings - nowhere else." You hand the strap to the woman I kissed, and she takes aim. "God, that hurts." "It was supposed to hurt. And I kind of hope they all use the strap, although that is, of course, up to them."

"She certainly is enthusiastic," I hiss between wallops. "I don't think I can do this much longer."

"Of course you can, Slut. You'll do it, and more, to please me."

My dance partner evidently isn't as comfortable with the strap as is his wife, because the next thing I feel is the stinging of fingers as his hand slams into my right cheek. Then the left. He alternates for a while, and then looks at you and says, "I think that's a very pretty color, don't you?"

You agree, and as I turn my head to try to see what color he's describing (because it feels like flames to me) he moves away and Janice takes his place. I don't think she'll be too hard on me, after all, she has just been spanked herself. And once again I'm a really bad judge of other people's actions. She uses that strap as though she's looked into my soul and found me lacking. She slips, and hits me with the edge of the strap rather than the flat portion, and I feel it cut into my skin.

"Enough. Now let Arthur have the strap." You take a napkin, dip it in some water and head toward my ass. I feel the coolness as you tend to my wound before turning me over to Arthur.

You securely wrap my wrists with the rope, leaving much of the rope hanging from my wrists. I think there may be more coming, but I'm not going to interrupt you to ask. Not now, anyway.

You move two tables together, the one we've been standing at and the one beside it. You offer your hand and assist me in getting up on one of the chairs. "On your belly, Slut."

As I lie on the tables you make a pillow from your coat and place it beneath my head so that my face doesn't directly touch the table. You get down on your knees, and, taking the ends of the rope, crawl underneath the tables toward my feet.

You stretch my arms down, not uncomfortably, but securely, and wrap the ends of the rope around the table legs and then tie them to my feet. I can still wiggle, and can even turn over if I try hard enough, but I won't be falling off the table no matter how much I struggle.

You return to the "head" of the table, stopping to raise my skirt above my waist. You pull up a chair and motion for Arthur, Janice, and the other couple to join us.

"Thank you, Master." "What are you thanking me for, Slut?" "For making sure I won't hurt myself even if I move more than I should." "You're welcome. I don't want you injured, just thoroughly spanked."

I crawl out to the parking lot once again. It has gotten colder, and the parking lot is sparkling with frost.

My knees complain, but there is nothing to be done about that right now. I have to get to the truck.

When I arrive at the truck, I take the keys from my mouth and open the door - it is dificult to unlock because of the cold, but I manage to warm the key a bit and it works out. I grab the bag of toys from within my suitcase, hanging it around my neck for the trip back in to the diner.

As I crawl back, I can see you watching me through the window, and I wonder just what sort of punishment you have in mind that requires access to everything in the bag. Perhaps I should have just kept my mouth shut, but you always encourage me to speak my mind, even when it gets me into trouble.

I approach the steps and as I begin to climb them the bag bounces against my tits, and I remember with each bounce exactly what you have in there. And whatever you have in mind, I don't think it is going to be pretty. I open the door to the diner, and my glasses fog up so I can't see where I'm going very well. I make my way over to you, and kneel at your feet - bag around my neck and keys in my teeth.

You lean over and retrieve your keys, placing them in your pocket. Then you reach out a hand and help me to my feet. You lead me to one of the tables in the center of the diner, and take the bag from my neck. You turn me to face away from you so I don't see what you are removing from the bag, just to make things even more frightening, I think.

You take one of my hands, then the other, and turn me around as you slip the rope around my wrists. Whatever is to come, I will not be able to escape my fate.

I raise one eyebrow. "Oh?" "Yes. I don't feel comfortable with his level of experience, so he will be practicing at least one more time tonight."

"On whom?" "Oh, on you, of course. Janice is about done in for the night, and you are owed a spanking."

"But, but I don't even know him!" "You knew him well enough to be flirting outrageously about an hour ago." "But there's a difference between some innocent flirting and allowing some stranger to touch me that way."

"Are you telling me that you don't want a stranger spanking you?" "Yes. You know how I hate the thought of anyone other than you doing something like that."

"Well, Slut, it isn't really up to you, now is it?" "But," I start to say, when I notice that you have lost your smile, and are looking at me in a way I just don't trust.

"On your knees, Slut." I obey, and sink to my knees on the floor. "Now crawl out to the truck and get the strap. And make sure we can all see the plug in your ass while you're doing it."

"The strap? You'd let him use the strap on me? You said he didn't have enough experience for a spanking, let alone the strap."

"Go. And while you're out there you might as well bring in the whole bag of toys. I think you need to be reminded again just who makes the decisions around here."

Janice's spanking has now become more of a series of caresses, and you nod at Arthur who smooths her skirt over her and helps her up off his lap, encouraging her to sink to her knees beside him.

As Janice wraps her arms around her husband's leg and rests her head on his thigh, you turn to me and smile. "Arthur and I have been discussing some things, and I've decided that he needs more practice before he tries to keep Janice in line on his own."

Janice lifts her head, looking puzzled, and Arthur reaches down and strokes her hair, reassuring her that it is not she who is on the block this time.

Arthur somehow manages to focus on the task a hand, and soon Janice's bottom is as red as Rudolph's nose. You motion for him to slow down, rather than stopping abruptly. He complies (you're teaching him, as well) and begins to use a lighter touch, with more caresses than slaps, as he brings Janice back from the edge.

After a few minutes, as Janice continues to sigh and rub against Arthur's lap, you lean over and whisper something in his ear. He looks at me, and at Janice, and then whispers something back. I'm getting a little bit concerned, as he's looking at me rather than at what he's doing, and I hate being kept in the dark. There is something going on - and it involves me.

As Arthur becomes more secure in what he's doing, I snuggle closer to you. You look down at me and smile, "Don't worry, Slut. Your turn is coming soon." I know it will hurt like hell, but it doesn't matter. You will be touching me. It makes no difference where or how you do it, the fact that your skin is next to mine is enough.

Janice doesn't seem to be embracing this portion of her training, or at least she's putting on a good show of resisting. Arthur runs a finger between her legs as he is caressing her, and looks up at you, saying, "She's wet. She doesn't hate this, or hate me for it."

"Of course not. This is part of what she has been looking for - a way to give you the control, to make herself vulnerable and open to whatever it is you may wish for (or from) her."

Arthur continues the spanking, and after a few minutes of pseudo protest, Janice becomes calm and appears to be accepting all that is happening to her. He gives her a couple of sharp slaps on the ass, and follows by opening her with his fingers, touching and then tasting her juices. A sound, somewhere between a moan and a sigh, escapes her. She may have fought it, but she is content.

You chuckle and say, "We'll see how impressed she is after this." And then you move to stand over Arthur and direct the punishment.

"Start off slowly, and not too hard. You want to warm her up before you really get going."

Arthur hesitantly raises his hand, and quite softly lowers onto Janice's ass. You sigh and tell him to try again, a little more forcefully this time. We hear the soft slap of his hand against her flesh, and when Arthur raises his hand again, we can see that she is beginning to turn a bit pink.

"Again." And Arthur starts to get into a rhythm, increasing the frequency and sharpness of his blows. Janice begins wiggling on his lap and you remind him to hold her down tightly, lest she move into a position where she might really get hurt.

"And don't forget to soothe her as well, Arthur. A few slaps, and then a caress can do so much more than just a spanking."

You reach out your arm to me, and I slip in close to you and snuggle up against you. You reach down and give me a friendly whack on the behind, and I wrap both arms around you and give you a huge hug.

"Well Janice, it is time for your punishment. Arthur, come over here and sit on this chair. You'll be administering this one, and I expect you to do it well."

Arthur settles himself into the chair, looking a bit nervous. I lean over and, speaking softly (but not so softly that you can't hear me - I won't be making that mistake again soon) tell him that he will be fine. He gives me a sort of half smile, and still looks as though it is he who is about to be punished.

"Come here, Janice. It is time." Janice approaches, and looks down at her husband in the chair. As she comes closer, you tell her to arrange herself across Arthur's lap, in the traditional spanking position.

Her expression changes as she figures out that you are going to have her spanked by her husband - she's looking a little bit scared now. After everything that has gone on this night, she has a right to be nervous.

As the two of them are settling in to a comfortable position, you smile down at me and ask about my conversation while dancing with the woman. "She asked me what I would do if she squeezed me too tight." "And your reply?" "That I would stomp on her feet. She let go of me pretty quickly after that, and seemed surprised that I was able to come up with an idea of my own. Then we chatted about your requirement that I be the best person I can be, intellectually and in every other way. She is impressed with you, I think."

"Oh, so you do have a mind of your own?"

"You had better believe it. And he wouldn't want it any other way. I can't imagine him spending more than a few hours with someone he couldn't really talk with, or with someone who wasn't able to hold her own when he had to be away."

As the music ends we separate, nod to one another, and go our separate ways. As I walk back toward you and Arthur, I glance in her direction and see that she is deep in conversation with her husband. Evidently you've gotten her interest, as well.

Janice is still standing in the corner, and she is blushing furiously. "Well, Arthur, shall we make that ass match the face?"

During a lapse in the conversation, I nod toward the jukebox and ask "I wonder which one of us is supposed to be Santa Claus." Of course, it being the season you couldn't have made a better choice. After all, the situation isn't something you see every day. So "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" seems fitting. I wouldn't want to be the child who felt he had to report this to Daddy.

She is wearing heels, and I am barefoot (and pretty much bare everything else at this point) so I stand on my tiptoes and give her a kiss on the cheek, just in time with the music. She giggles, and says, "And what would you do if I was to hold you like this?" As she says this, she tightens her grip to the point where I am feeling a bit crowded, and it is becoming uncomfortable.

"I might stomp on your feet," I reply. "You haven't though, have you?"

"Not yet."

She gets the message, and the pressure on my ribcage eases. We finish up the dance, and again I curtsy before returning to your side.

You are looking at me as I approach, and you let me know that we'll be having a discussion later, but for now you have determined the punishment for Janice.

I see the way you are looking at her, and I'm glad it isn't me. Whatever combination of circumstances you have devised for her punishment is sure to be something that will take a long time to forget.

You smile, and when I arrive at your side, you pull me close and whisper in my ear, "Go dance with the lady. I'll pick the music."

I walk back to the table and offer the stranger my hand. She takes it, and we walk out into the aisle where her husband and I had been dancing just a few minutes earlier. We wait for the music to start (and I have to admit that I am a bit worried about what your choice will be) and when it begins, she puts her arms around me and we dance.

Like her husband, she has a number of questions, and I refer her to you for the answers to the majority of them. She wants to know if our relationship is one I would persue with someone other than you, and I just laugh. "Never."

As I return to your side, you call out to Janice, "Janice, why don't you lift what's left of your skirt up and tuck it in to your waistband while I consider a punishment befitting this infraction?" It sounds like a question, but by now Janice understands that it is a command. She picks up a tiny bit of her skirt and tucks it in, leaving most of her ass covered.

You send me over with instructions to arrange the skirt correctly, and then to return to you. I calmly walk over, raise the entire back of her skirt and wrap it around her waistband so that it will not accidently slip down.

As I'm returning to you the woman whose husband I just danced with stands up and addresses you, "Hey - don't I get a dance?"

"Are you out of your mind?" "Excuse me? Did I hear you say something?" "Yes. I asked if you were crazy, suggesting that I go ask that stranger to dance. Especially dressed like this."

"I see. Why don't you go over there and stand in that corner until I decide what to do with you, then? Slut, come over here."

Janice heads for the corner while I get up and approach you. You wrap an arm around my waist and say, "Why don't you go over there and ask the nice man to dance, then?"

I nod my assent, stand up on my tiptoes to kiss you on the cheek, and walk over to ask him to dance. He agrees, and stands up (and he's really, really tall.) We begin to dance, and he asks me a few questions as we move in time to the music. "Are you happy? Is this a full-time thing, or do you only play this way occasionally? What did he mean when he said Janice was suggesting he leave you behind? Would he really do that?"

"My goodness! Let's start at the beginning, shall we? Yes, I am happy. I am always happy when I'm with him. And while we are only together occasionally, I wouldn't call what we have part-time, as I am his, and he makes certain that I never forget it. He gives me assignments, and we discuss what my days will be like, and he has a few very specific rules that I try very hard not to break."

"And Janice? Where does she fit in to all this?" "You'd have to ask him about that. He knows how I feel about it, but it is his choice to make. And should he decide to do so, he will leave me here and I will rent a car and return home."

I rest my head on his chest, discouraging any more questions, as we continue to dance. The music ends and he steps back and bows, and I respond with a curtsy. (Not that I have much of a skirt to curtsy with...)

Janice is still in the corner, still waiting. Your attention has been divided between trying to come up with a fitting punishment for her and enjoying my obedience. And now even I am wondering what you will require of her to make up for her insolence.

"Slut," you call out. "Yes, Sir?" "I saw that snicker. You may crawl back to your place."

"Of course, Sir." (I still can't help snickering as I get down on my knees and make my way across the floor.)

You and Janice dance well together - she is an accomplished dancer. You hold her with one arm, and with the other hand you unbutton her blouse and remove it. You then slip the straps of her bra off her arms, one at a time, all the while swaying to the music.

The first song ends, and you step back to admire your handiwork. Janice is blushing, and I think you enjoy that more than anything.

The second song begins, one of my favorites, and you smile at Janice, who thinks you are going to dance with her again. You continue smiling as you approach her and suggest that she go over to the table where the waitress and the strangers are still sitting and watching the two of you, and ask the gentleman to dance.

As Janice approaches us, you lean down toward me and tell me that you would like some music. Dance music. Okay, I think, this should be interesting.

I go to the machine and select a few songs, then turn back to see you offering Janice your hand. The two of you begin to dance, and as you are dancing I can see you sliding your hand along her back, feeling for a clasp.

"Hey!" "Did you say something, Janice?" "Yes. What are you doing back there?"

"Finding what I was looking for," you reply as you unhook her bra with one hand and slide the other up her skirt, lifting it to her waist.

You offer me your hand and assist me in getting down from the table. Arthur is still standing where he was when the punishment began, and he has a look of amazement on his face.

"Why did you do that?" "Because Slut sometimes needs a reminder of where and to whom she belongs, and the more harsh the reminder, the less often she forgets."

"Does it have to be that way? Isn't there another way to reassure or remind her of her place?" "There might be if we were together all the time, but with limited interaction, things get magnified on both sides."

"So when Janice and I go home, I can be in charge without having to hurt her like that?" "If that is what your relationship becomes, then yes. But you will need to continue to correct her when she makes mistakes, and a physical punishment is much less cruel than a psychological one. In other words, tell her what is wrong and what you and she will be doing about it rather than just letting it fester or ignoring it and her in the hope that she will figure it out. She won't. She can't be expected to read your mind, which is why she was punished for not asking me about the toast, and why you will need to make certain you are constantly communicating."

"Sounds like at least half of the work is going to be mine."

"Far more than half if you are doing it right."

You sit back down in the booth, as does Arthur. I'm still standing beside you, and when you look up at me and nod, I sink to my knees at your feet, wrapping my arms around your leg and attempting to keep most of my weight on my knees rather than on my sore behind.

You reach down and trace the stripes across my breasts, asking me if I will enjoy wearing them for you. Of course, my response is, "Absolutely. I love wearing your marks."

You smile, and turn your attention back to Janice. She is staring at both of us as though we've grown extra heads, and I believe you will be giving her additional lessons in tolerence and comportment.

I try to turn over without actually touching the table, because just resting my backside on the table will be bad enough, without dragging it along as I roll over.

Finaly, I lower myself onto the table with a wince, and I look up at you. My top and bra have fallen completely open and you reach out and tweak a nipple. I'm anticipating what is coming so completely that I jump at your touch. And land flat back on the welts.

You lean over and look me directly in the eye. You no longer look angry, but you certainly haven't forgiven me yet, either. There is more to come, and as you lean in to kiss me on the forehead you murmur, "Never ignore me in favor of another man again. You are mine. Perhaps now you will remember that."

A quick kiss on the forehead, and you straighten up, raising the cane as you do so. I turn my head so I don't have to see it coming, and you growl that I am to look at you while I am being punished. As I turn my fact back toward you, I see your arm come down in a giant arc and slam the cane across my breasts. "That is one, slut. I expect you to count from here on."

Whack! "Two."

"Three." "Four." All landing in a series of parallel lines across my breasts, and all creating welts that will last well into the afternoon. I watch as you raise your arm once again, and see the gleam in your eyes that tells me I'm going to be crying soon.

"Aah!" I exclaim as the cane slaps across my nipples. "Five, Sir," I sob. You once again place your face close to mine and you watch as the tears form and begin to slide down my cheeks and drip onto the table. I don't know if you enjoy seeing me cry, or if it annoys or worries you, but I do know that when I disappoint you, you make certain that tears are always one of the results. And it isn't the physical pain so much as that horrible fear that one of these days I'm going to say or do something and you will stop loving me. That's what brings on the tears.

"That will do, Slut - for now. You may get up."

You meet me at the door, take my arm and lead me to the table you have just vacated.

"Up on the table, Slut. Face down, and legs spread." Oh, God - you're going to use the cane and I can hear the frost in your voice. I am going to have trouble sitting down for a while.

You lift my skirt, exposing me to the view of all in the diner. You raise the cane, and Nine. Sharp. Hard. Strokes. To my Ass. And a tenth across my thighs. I'm hanging on to the edge of the table so hard I'm afraid it will break.

You stop and from the sounds I can tell that you are preparing the plug. You approach me again and tell me to spread myself open for you. I remove my hands from the edge of the table, and, trying not to touch any of the welts from the caning, grasp my cheeks and spread myself open before you.

I can't help crying out as, with one quick, smooth push, you impale me with the plug.

"Did you have something to say, Slut?" "No, Sir." "Good. Now turn over."

"And bring the large plug, as well."

Oh, boy. I've done it now. I excuse myself and Arthur gets up from the booth, offering me his hand to assist me in getting up. I accept, because you always want me to mind my manners, but it certainly isn't getting me any brownie points tonight.

I go to the door and exit the closed diner. It is three in the morning and I'm not wearing shoes as I head out to the truck. The parking lot is dark and kind of scary, and my feet are becoming very sore from the bits of gravel that have somehow made their way onto the pavement.

I reach the truck, and open my suitcase to retrieve the plug and the lubricant. No matter how angry you are, you won't use the large plug with no lube and risk tearing my skin. Then I open your suitcase and find, right on top, the cane.

It is almost as though you knew I would be getting into trouble tonight. On the other hand, I am still owed what you have referred to as an "extremely large" punishment for something remarkably foolish I did this fall, so perhaps that is why the cane is so handy.

I close both suitcases and relock the truck, making my way back across the lot to the diner's door. I hesitate, because I know whatever is to come won't be pretty.

He and I sit there giggling while Janice tries to impress you with what she has put together. And I have to admit, she hasn't done a bad job at all. A BLT, and from the looks of it, a tasty one.

"The bread isn't toasted." "I didn't know you wanted it toasted." "And you didn't think to ask, did you?"

"But..." You move over to the nearest table and pull out one of the chairs. "Come here, Janice."

You have Janice arrange herself over your lap on the chair, and look over at me, "Slut, how many swats does this deserve?" "Oh, I don't know - two or three, probably." I turn back to Arthur as you say, "No, Slut,I do not believe you understand the seriousness of the problem." "Obviously not. I mean, so she didn't toast the bread. Half the time you don't want toast anyway."

You give Janice five quick swats and send her back on her knees to correct her mistake. And in the interim, you look over at Arthur and I, still deep in conversation, and say, "Slut..." "Slut..." I eventually look back at you and finally see the look on your face. I'm in trouble. Lots of trouble. And there isn't anything that will get me out of this one.

"Why don't you go out to the truck and get it?" you request. "Get what, Sir?" "Oh, I think you know what is needed here."

I glance your way and say, "Oh, it's nothing. We're just chatting about some of the things you have had me do for you in the past - especially the showing off in public. He's interested in the theory behind that, and I was just telling him that you have forced me out into the world and haven't let me hole up in the apartment and hide. That's all."

I go back to talking with Arthur, and have stopped massaging his shoulders and draped my arms around his neck, hands resting on his chest. We watch as Janice tries to crawl back to you with one hand full of a plate of food. I can't help it. I have to laugh, remembering some of the things I've done in the past.

Then Arthur whispers in my ear something about swaying while she crawls, and I burst into laughter. I remind him that I guarantee that I sway more, especially since I'm usually naked while I'm doing my crawling, and his wife has the benefit of a well-fitting bra.

Arthur doesn't seem to notice that I have moved closer to him, turning to face him and leaning in so that I can not only massage his neck and shoulders, but whisper in his ear. He is far too busy watching Janice get ready to perform her next task.

"Janice, I'm feeling a bit hungry. Why don't you crawl behind the counter and see if there isn't something there for me to eat?"

Arthur gasps, and I whisper in his ear that this isn't a punishment - it is merely for your enjoyment that his wife's ass and cunt will be on display as she crawls across the floor and that the punishment will come only if she should fail to find something you consider acceptable.

Janice makes her way behind the counter, and you turn your attention to Arthur and me. I'm still whispering in his ear, and he is leaning back, relaxing and resting his back against my tits. He turns his head to say something back to me, and I laugh.

"Slut? Are you having a private conversation, or am I to be let in on the joke?"

"Slut! Come over here and bring Arthur with you. There's something he and I need to discuss."

"Come on, Arthur. He doesn't bite. Often." Arthur finally smiles, and I lead him by the hand back to where Janice is sitting at your feet.

"Arthur, has my Slut been keeping you entertained?" "She has been explaining a little bit about what's happening here, and has managed to make me feel less like I'm being deserted, but I still don't understand why my wife has decided to do this with you."

"I think she saw an opportunity to get something she wants, and to do so without having to try to explain to you what it is she needs you to do. I just happen to be the one she chose to make her point. But she is learning very well, and hasn't needed to be punished for at least an hour."

"I don't understand about that. If this is about her devotion to you, why would you punish her for making mistakes?"

"How else will she learn? I praise her and pet her when she does well, and punish her when she fails. This way she becomes more aware of what it is that I require of her."

Arthur and I are still standing while you stroke Janice's hair. You suggest that I sit on the other side of the booth from you, and that Arthur join me.

"I'll slide in first." I get into the far corner of the booth and Arthur sits down, facing out. I slide over next to him, and, seeing the approval on your face, and the tension in Arthur's shoulders and neck, I begin to massage his shoulders while he watches you pet his wife.

Arthur and I continue to chat while you praise Janice. I'm keeping his attention on me by asking him about what he does, and why it is so important that he not be one of the victims of the merger, and while I'm doing so I have taken one of his hands in mine and am gently massaging it, using a slow, soothing motion and as he talks and I massage, I see his face begin to relax.

"That's nice." "What is?" I ask. "The way you're massaging my hand and looking at me as though my conversation and comfort are the most important things in the world."

I chuckle, and tell his that, for me, he is the most important thing right now. That hearing about how he feels and what he plans for the remainder of his career and his relationship are all I'm interested in.

"But why? Why would you care about me?" "Because he does. One of the things the woman being trained will learn is to give her complete attention to him. To care if he is having a rough time and needs some help to relax. To know, just by the look in his eyes, what it is he needs from her. To pay attention."

"And if she is working in a stressful job, he will give her that same attention, at least for some time each day. He will make absolutely certain that she knows how much she means to him, how much he appreciates her devotion. He will give her the opportunity to talk with him about how things are outside the relationship, and will encourage her to learn to share her feelings about all things with him. And she will love him even more because he lets her know how important she is. And we all need to feel special and important."

Arthur looks me in the eye and says, "Does he do that for you?" "He tries. I sometimes have a hard time remembering that he believes I'm special and that he loves me - especially when there is someone else in the picture. But he has never given me any reason to doubt his love, and has given me more examples than I can count of just how he feels. He doesn't say it, but when I'm thinking clearly, I know he loves me."