Conversation

The blond man has nothing to say, so he simply ignores the question and returns to his seat. "Shall we continue?"

You ask if I am okay to go on, and I nod my head. Yes, I'll go on. If only to reassure myself that I can.

The girl who had stood up for me rearranges herself on the floor, and I feel kind of sorry for her because she looks frightened. She really put herself out there for me, and I'm hoping that she doesn't pay too dearly for having done so.

"Well, now. It is time for our guests to show just how well they've got their slaves trained. Let's see how they do on the leash."

At least it is something I'm familiar with. I can do this, if it is as straightforward as it sounds. I look up at you and you are frowning. That doesn't bode well for me. You attach my leash to my collar and tell me softly "all fours."

You lead me to the center of the room and we are soon joined by the other guests and their pets. Right now I'm just pleased that I'm able to move under my own power, much less do anything else, but I'll give it my all for you.

The blond man leads us all into another room which is filled with obstacles. It looks a lot like one of those performance arenas for dogs, with things to climb over and under, one of those boards that changes position like a teeter-totter when you get about halfway along it, and a couple of other things I don't really like the loods of.

"We will go first and show you how it is supposed to be done. Then each of you will have the opportunity to show us what you can do.

You begin stroking my hair as I rest my head on your thigh. There is some conversation going on among the men but all I am paying attention to is your hand touching me.

Thediscussion begins to take some of your attention as you take your hand from my hair and begin gesturing as you speak. "I told you of her level of experience. There was (or should have been) no surprise here. She is mine, and has never had another master."

The woman sitting at the empty chair stands and faces the blond man. He orders her to return to her sitting position, and she says, "You weren't testing her. You had no intention of stopping when she had taken enough or you would have stopped after two minutes of that intense caning. You just wanted to hurt her. And I think we would all like to know why."

I try to stand, but my knees still won't hold me. So I half-crawl, half-drag myself across the floor to your side. Because you know me better than anyone else, you immediately grab my lower lip and look inside my mouth, which is raw and bloody from the biting.

"Why?" you demand. "What on earth were you thinking, that you didn't tell him to stop before this happened? Tell me."

"You said not to make a sound," I whisper. "So I didn't. I was just doing what you said to do."

Someone brings a damp cloth for me to use to stop the bleeding inside my mouth as you ask the blond man, "Why didn't you stop when it became obvious that she wasn't going to cry out? How far would you have taken this if I hadn't stopped you when I did?"

"Until she did," comes the reply as he remains next to the wall as though waiting for his next victim. "Until she did."

It seems to go on forever, even though a part of my brain knows that it has only been a few minutes. I'm biting the inside of my lip now, because it is getting more and more difficult to keep silent.

Every time he removes the cane from my skin, I think that surely this has to be it. It has to be over now, it can't possibly go on any longer. But then the cane makes contact again and my hopes are dashed.

Over and over, he lays the stripes on my ass and thighs. These are marks I'll be wearing for a long time. And I hate them. And I hate him for wanting to hurt me this way.

Finally, after what feels like an hour and has probably in reality been five or six minutes, you tell him to stop.

"I think that's enough. She's taken more than anyone else, and hasn't made a sound. Let her down now."

Someone unfastens my wrists and ankles and I try to stand and back away from the wall. But my knees won't hold me, and I crumble onto the floor in a heap. One of the other women tries to come to me, but she is stopped short by the man she's sitting beside.

"Come here, Pet. Come back to me."

Your friend (at least I hope he's your friend) touches my back again, leading me to believe he's just waiting for me to flinch. I wait, silent, as he runs the crop up and down my back. He's not lifting it to use it, he is just getting me worked up by keeping it in contact with my skin and giving me no idea just when things are going to change.

Suddenly I realise that the background noise has disappeared. Something is about to happen.

This time when the crop reaches my ass, rather than simply starting back up, the blond man lifts it and brings it back down gently onto my skin. Now I'm really becoming frightened. If he is taking this long just to make me uncomfortable, what will he do to me when he really gets started? Just what am I letting myself in for?

I know that these are exactly the thoughts he intends to bring to my mind, and damn it, it is working. One more trip up and down my back, this time on the opposite side. He ends this one with a slightly more painful stroke on my ass. Either he intends to work his way up to something, or he just wants me to relax before he gets started.

Whack! I didn't even feel the crop leave my shoulder before it landed on my ass. Hard. Harder than I've felt it before. I let go of the bindings and wind up putting more of my weight on my wrists than is comfortable. Whack! Again and again he lays down a row of parallel stripes on my ass and my upper thighs. I grab the bindings again, and try to maintain my silence, although the tears have already started running down my cheeks.

"You were all watching?" "Of course. We wanted to see how you would react, and if you would remember my warning about using the toilet."

From across the room a blond man gets out of his chair and tells me to come to him. I look up at you, and you nod.

I cross the room, and the man takes me to a wall which has been outfitted with restraints. He binds my hands above my head, and my ankles with my legs spread and with my toes barely touching the floor. I have to strain to keep my weight off my wrists. I grab the restraints with my hands to help keep my wrists from becoming too sore, and the blond man walks up and touches my back with what feels like something leather.

I have no idea exactly what is about to happen, but whatever it is, I know I have to be able to remain in control, in order to hear any instructions you give. But I have to admit that I'm getting scared.

"Try to relax," you whisper into my ear, "It will hurt less." "Will it be you?" "No, not this time. But he knows what he's doing, and he won't cause any permanent damage."

And this is supposed to be making me feel better? No permanent damage?

The girl leads me to a bathroom which is filled with everything I could possibly need. In fact, the items look very familiar.

"Oh, you've brought my bag!" "Yes. We think you will be most comfortable using your own things."

"Thank you. That is very thoughtful."

She doesn't say anything, but I think I may have gotten a few brownie points for not making a big deal about someone going through my things.

"I'll give you fifteen minutes. If you find that you need something that isn't here, just ask. I will be right outside the door."

I thank her once again and begin looking through my things for my toothbrush and toothpaste. I've found my brush, and the nail polish so I can do a bit of a touch-up before going back out, but my toothbrush seems to be eluding me. I decide that I'll look again after going to the bathroom - I remember your warning and want my bladder to be as empty as possible when the evening begins.

Eventually I find what I am looking for, and manage to "freshen up" with a couple of minutes to spare. I knock on the door, and the girl lets me out and takes my leash once again.

I'm lead through a door into a room where I see you sitting in a comfortable-looking chair. A quick glance around proves to be informative, for although each man has a wooden chair next to him, all the women are seated on the floor.

My leash is handed to you, and you invite me to sit next to you. I sit on the floor and lean on your leg, resting my cheek on your thigh.

"Good job. You are more observant than some of these men have given you credit for, considering the fact that it took you almost ten minutes to find your toothbrush."

You park the truck and hop out, coming around to my side to assist me. You take my leash and my hand and I step down onto the gravel. I slip in the driveway, and you catch me. "I don't want you marked before we walk in the door."

You keep your arm around me until we reach the sidewalk. Then you step in front of me, holding the end of my leash as we walk toward the door. I'm getting more and more nervous as the door gets closer. I hear you chuckle - you know I'm becoming a nervous wreck.

We climb the steps to the porch and you step forward and ring the bell. I can't see who opens the door, I can only hear you say, "Please take my pet somewhere so she can freshen up before we begin."

You hand my leash to what turns out to be a very pretty girl who leads me down one hallway as you proceed down another. I really don't want to be separated from you, but it seems I have no choice.

"Excuse me, but can you tell me what is going to be expected of me here?" "Oh, of course. Complete obedience. That's all. It should be easy for someone as well trained as you appear to be. We actually had one girl who refused to be taken away from her Master."

Well, thank goodness I didn't voice my objections. I seem to have passed the first test. I wonder how many remain.

"This time I'll drive." You take me to the passenger side of the truck and open the door for me. You remove the leash you had replaced when I got to the edge of the clearing, and close the door.

When you climb in on the driver's side, you make certain I'm firmly strapped in the seat belt and that I haven't squirmed enough to bring my skirt down from around my waist, where you lifted it as I got into my seat.

Because of the position we were in, you had to back the truck the entire way down to the highway. "This is why I'm driving." "And I'm delighted that you are. I couldn't do it. I'd be too scared of hitting something or going off the road."

You smile as you manouver us backwards down the road. We finally reach a spot where there is enough room to turn around, and you get us headed downhill. "See - it wasn't that bad."

"Oh, sure. Easy for you to say. You had the steering wheel. I just had to sit here and hope a tree wasn't going to jump out in front of you. Or should I say behind you?"

"I think you should quit while you're ahead."

You get us back onto the highway and tell me that there is a gas station about half an hour down the road where we will stop for gas. "And I'll pick us up something to eat as well. I don't know when dinner will be, or even if you'll be offered any."

Okay, that is starting to sound a little bit scary. This was supposed to be a romantic getaway, and you're talking about it as though there are going to be other people making the decisions. I trust you, but you know I have a hard time with strangers.

We reach the gas station and you tell me to stay put while you put in the gas and grab something quick for us to eat on the road.

"Oh, good. I love turkey. And you remembered what I like to drink, too." "Yes, Pet, no more coffee for you today. You are going to need to be able to control your bladder for what might be an extended period when we get there."

"Get where?" "Where we're going. Now eat your sandwich and try to relax. Everything is going to be fine. You know what you're doing, and you trust me, so you'll do very well."

Oh, boy. This is really sounding like trouble now. "Is it some sort of competition?" "No, not at all. Just a gathering of some friends. You'll know what to do when we arrive."

I finish my sandwich (you've practically inhaled yours) and drink about half of my soda when you take an exit onto a two lane road and start heading uphill again. We are headed into the woods, and I don't see any houses or driveways that might indicate neighbors.

"Oh, by the way, you need to take off your clothes and put your coat back on. Leave just the stockings and heels. And of course, your collar.

I take off my seat belt and wriggle my way out of my winter coat. Then I remove my skirt, pulling it down until I can step out of it. Halfway done, now comes the hard part.

I unbutton my blouse and (sitting in the front seat of a truck) contort myself to get my arms out of the sleeves. Then off comes the bra, and I'm almost ready.

"Where shall I put these?" "Oh, just fold them up and leave them on the seat when we get out of the truck. You'll want them again at some point."

I slide my arms into my coat and get my seat belt fastened just as you turn right, into a driveway that appears to lead to a large, well-lit farmhouse.

We approach a clearing, and you let me know that we've arrived. "Out there, in the middle where I can really see you."

I start to walk, but you are holding my leash and you bring me back to you. "Not on your feet, Pet. On all fours. You'll be my good Pet and crawl out to where you are allowed to go to the bathroom."

I drop to my knees, and you remove my leash and send me off with a slap on the ass. and a couple of tissues grasped in my hand. I hear you doing something, but at this point all I really care about is getting to the middle of the clearing so I can finally get some relief.

I reach the middle, and start to get into position when you call out to me. "Facing me, Pet. Facing me." So I turn to face you and squat, ready to go.

Then I see the camera. That's what you have been messing around with while I crawled out here. So this is to be taped. Boy, that doesn't make my bladder any less shy. In fact, I'm finding it difficult to get started.

I apply pressure with my muscles onto my bladder, just to get things going. First just a drop or two, then a trickle, then, as I relax, a steady flow. I haven't gone this much in quite a while. Must be all the coffee I've been drinking.

I can see that you are still using the camera as I wipe myself with the tissues and prepare to crawl back to you. You squat down to get the full picture - me on my hands and knees in the snow, leaving the spot I've used for a bathroom.

I reach you and you stand and assist me in standing. "Good Pet" you say, and then you reward me with a kiss. "Now we'll head back to the truck and be on our way."

I sigh with relief, certain that my wait is almost over. You hear me, and turn my way until I see it. The half-smile. The one that says you're thinking and while you love me, you're just not sure how far to push.

My heart sinks as I realize that my troubles are just beginning. You have something in the back of your mind, and you'll not be satisfied until you see just how far I can go.

You climb out of the truck with my leash in your hand, walk around to my side and, after opening the door, snap the leash to my collar and help me down from the truck.

"Come along, Pet. We have quite a way to go." "Yes, Master."

And while I'm saying yes, Master, I am really thinking "oh my lord - how much longer can I do this? What happens if I don't make it to the spot he has in mind?"

As though you're reading my mind, you turn back to me and say, "I've only brought two tissues, so don't be letting anything run down your legs."

I start to try to hurry, taking longer and swifter strides until I'm right up against your back.

"Relax, Pet. I want you to enjoy the walk." "I promise I'll enjoy it a lot more on the way back, Master." "Starting to hurt, is it? Are you beginning to think that you might not make it all the way? That you can take any punishment I dole out if only I'll let you pee now?"

"Must you torment me verbally as well, Master? You know I'm thinking all of those things, and that I feel as though I'm not going to make it to wherever you have in mind."

I manage to drive for a couple of hours, and am within half an hour or so of our exit, when the coffee hits my bladder and I begin to feel as though I'm going to need to stop soon.

"Master, I need to stop soon."

"Master," and I shake your hand, " I really need to stop soon."

You finally open your eyes, and as I look at you instead of the road (which isn't all that unusual) I can see by the grin that you've been awake since I first mentioned needing to stop, and you've just been letting things become more urgent.

"Take the next exit, and we'll find you a place."

The next exit approaches and I see the sign that says "No Services" and wonder exactly where you're taking me.

We head into a wooded area, on a two lane road that curves more than I like and has far too many hills for me to be comfortable with. I *really* need to go to the bathroom now, and yet you show no signs of being ready to stop.

We go on for at least fifteen minutes, and now I'm squirming in my seat, hoping I won't pee on myself before you find the "right" spot.

"Turn in here, Pet, and we'll go for a walk." I make the turn, and see that there is a wide spot in the road where people have obviously parked before.

You lie back in the seat and drape your arm across my thigh. "Wake me up before you stop again, Slut. I know some places in the area that would be good for taking you for a walk."

"Yes, Master." I pull onto the freeway, and soon I feel your hand relax in my lap and know that you are asleep.

You have your arms around my waist, and you're holding me so sweetly. And then you slide one hand down to the hem of my skirt.

You lift the skirt up to my waist and use your free hand to give me a couple of swats. You just keep looking me in the eye and smiling as you do so. I know it isn't because you're upset with me, it is just because you like the way it feels to slap my ass in public.

"Go climb in to the driver's seat, Pet." I go around the back of the truck to get into the seat, and can hear whispers and snickers as I walk by. Yes, my face gets red, but when you see it you just smile even more.

"Let's go before I decide to have you do anything else in front of those men."

"They were there all along?" "Not the whole time, but long enough, my Pet. They seemed to be enjoying the show, so why change anything?"

I know that my desire for privacy will not ever be as important as your need for exhibitionism, so I just sigh and fasten my seat belt, pulling up my skirt as I do so.

I turn on the truck, and pull out onto the highway, hoping to cover a lot of ground before I need to stop again.

I take you into my mouth as far as that zipper will allow. I want this, and you know it. I can feel you trying to hold back, but the situation proves too much for you and you cum deep in my throat.

I keep you in my mouth while you soften, licking all traces of cum from your cock. You stroke my hair, letting me know that I'm doing well, and that you are pleased with my performance.

Finally, you push my face away from you and put away your cock. Now I'm just standing there, bent over just enough that anyone who happens past will see that I have nothing on under my skirt except stockings.

You place two fingers under my chin and lift me up to face you. You wrap your arms around me and I just want to melt into your arms and climb onto your lap. But you have something else in mind for me today.

I love the way that you feel in my mouth, your skin so soft and smooth, your cock so responsive to my every motion. You fit me perfectly, and I love burying my nose in your hair as I take you all the way into my mouth.

You taste wonderful. I can't describe it, because there aren't enough words, but you taste clean, and silky, and slightly salty, and just perfect.

I love sucking you, and you know it. In fact, I think you're counting on my mounting frustration to keep me awake while I drive. And it certainly will. The way you move, the way you hold me close without pushing me, the way you appreciate my love of your cock and the way it looks and feels going into and out of my mouth.

I lick you like an ice cream cone, and you start to quiver just a bit. I know it is time.