ready

I smile at your pain as I run my fingers over one of the red stripes I painted over the paleness of your inner thigh. The cane is now lying in my lap. I notice the tremor at the pain – or the intimacy? - of my caressing your welts so close to your core. My eyes rise to yours from the deliciousness of your thighs and the spread puffiness of your femininity that you present to me so openly.

I love the way your eyes look up at me at times like this. I love the mixture of pleading, anxiety and lust you emit when you know that I know that I can do anything. When you’ve given and you know I’m going to take. I run my hand over the pussy that is presented to me, my fingers spreading your blood-engorged labia and pushing softly into your moistness; I feel your cunt rising to my caress and I smile into your eyes as I know both of us noticed.

“Ready to hurt for me again already, slut?” I smile, my fingers lingering against your sensitive core as I smile, watching your eyes as I lift the palm of my hand from your cunt before I bring it down harshly.

My home is your home

You do not know much about our guest. And that is only one of the things, which are unusual about tonight.

You know it is someone I've found in the community. You know I trust this person. And you sense that tonight is special.

Tonight I've dressed you. That is unusual as well. It is far from the first time, you've been dressed as I instructed. And it’s not the first time that you are among others dressed as I please. But previously it was only strangers, random passers-by and walk-ons in the background of the game that took place between the two of us. When we've been with my or your friends, people we knew, you've always dressed yourself.

You've already discovered the difference it makes being able to choose how you’re dressed, what parts of you, you show and to be dressed by me. Tonight whatever can be seen of you is what I choose should be visible. When I've chosen to show your legs the exposure, as well as the way your heels show off your ankle and lengthen your legs, it is no longer something that is in your power. The power you used to have through dressing, through your control of what I and others could see is now submitted, transformed into my power to expose or cover as much, or as little, as I please. I and our guest see precisely the parts of my girl that I want us to see.

You’re dressed nice, but not exactly for an evening with guests. The short, loose skirt and the cute, covering but tight, top you’re wearing is more a sweet little girl than an elegant hostess.  More like you, or I, would dress you for my pleasure, than you would have dressed for anyone else. Perhaps it’s because this guest is part of the community. Perhaps it’s because it’s acceptable, perhaps even preferably, that he can sense that you are mine, and that you have been dressed by me and not yourself. Perhaps that is why you’re also wearing the anklet that signifies your being mine…

You've sensed my excitement for hours. I've kept you naked  until after we had our dinner. You helped me cook. You often do so. Only this time you did so wearing only an apron that barely covered the front of you and left your ass naked and exposed to my pleasure, my pats and my caresses.

The apron was so that you wouldn't get dirty or burned. That was my explanation at least. But you know that it's just as much because I love to dress you to feel more naked than you would had you not worn a thing.

After dinner I dressed you. And then we waited. It's unusual that we have guests without sharing a meal. Perhaps we're going out? That would be slightly worrying, as your skirt is fairly short and your panties not really much to speak of – I haven't taken you out among strangers that exposed before.

Now is it. We hear the doorbell and I ask you to let our gust in. When you move into the hall you can see a man through the glass door. He's tall, perhaps a few years my senior, otherwise fairly ordinary.

“So that’s the girl, I've heard so much about” he smiles as you open. You know the moment he looks at you that this night is definitely out of the ordinary. His eyes are dark and very excited. He looks over your body without hiding it. It feels weird that he's breaking the norms of how you look at someone like this as he otherwise seems very decent and polite.

When you move into the living room you can see that I notice him looking at you. I'm beaming. I shake hands with the guest only the moment before my free hand slides up over the back of your thigh, wholly visible for our guest and conscious of the way I'm lifting your skirt.

“My home is your home”, I cheerfully announce to my guest while I give your lower back a small push so you're directed forward, leaning against the dining table. Like this there's no way your skirt will keep you decent. “And what's mine is yours” I add while me and my guest examine your exposed ass and  the excitement that is visibly showing in your panties.

Deprivation

It is interesting how taking one thing away seems to enhance the rest, I muse as I watch your lips brushing carefully, tentatively, against the inside of my knee. It seems that both of us are simultaneously realizing the intricacies of my anatomy because you have to feel your way with your mouth, the silk fold I put over your eyes shielding them from our world, making all your other senses so much more important, so much more acute.

It is quite obvious how taking away your hands, so neatly cuffed behind your back, enhances the rest of your senses. Interesting how the use of hands, the feeling our way around, the support, the guidance afforded by them, is so intimately connected to what makes us feel ‘human’. Without the use of them you seem so much more like a pretty little animal, nudging and leaning your way towards your goal. Your whole body, your being, is involved in every movement, rather than the disconnect of reaching out, had your hands been free, as you feel your way up along my inner thigh. My rock-hard cock brushes against your temple, some pre-cum attaching itself to your hair, before you turn your head to make me feel your lips over my length.

I sigh, leaning back in my chair, the motion pushing my cock into your face. Even the fact that you are without clothes seems to give another quality to you, apart from the obvious pleasure of seeing all of you. You hold your body differently when unclothed and being seen, every part of you more aware of itself, more taut than if it was hidden behind clothes. There is a gracefulness to someone nude, a heightened awareness of each little part of your body. A way of feeling every motion, every posture, knowing that it is given to me, and that I demand nothing but the unfiltered unsheathed you as I look at you, that makes my slut seem so much more in her body.

And, I think to myself, groaning as you take me into your mouth completely, your throat pulsing around me for a moment as it protests the intrusion, my hand gently sliding up in your hair, enjoying its silkiness and my control over you, there is so much more that you become when I take away your freedom.

Hands

I turn around to see you after I let the leash attached to your collar fall. The end of it now hangs somewhere between your legs. It's the only thing partially covering your naked smooth sex.

Even though your eyes are covered by the blindfold, I can see your nervousness when I let the leash fall and break the connection between us. Suddenly you are alone, even more blinded and helpless than before.

I put my hand on your shoulder. Your skin is soft, smooth, warm with the situation, with your exposedness, with your need. I feel the relief of once more being connected with me, when I touch you - but also the shivering excitement right beneath your surface, and then the humiliation when I order you to spread your legs to let yourself be seen. My order confirm to you what you must already have sensed: that here are others in the room.  The moment you realize that I sense the sweet humiliation - the moment of resistance and 'this cannot be true' melting away as you resign yourself to being exhibited, embrace the fact that you're exhibited, powerless - that goes through you as a slight shaking from your core and all the way to the tips of your toes.

‘Much better’, I smile - even though you can only hear the smile in my voice. I caress you slowly with the side of my finger, I let it run over the softness of your skin along your upper arm while I enjoy the look of how your slender figure is enhanced and displayed by the dark corset, by the collar that makes you mine, by the nipples that are lifted above the corset, presented, naked and rock hard.

You sense the men in the room around you, their nearness, warmth, breath and then... after a nod of me, your owner, hands all over your body.