The add was deceptively simple.
"Female, blonde, blue eyes, tall and sexy. Owned by a loving husband and Master is now available for weekend use by those desiring a fully compliant, service-oriented slave with no limits, an unbelievable sexual appetite, and a huge pain tolerance."
"Apply to this add with proof of your abilities and references that are checkable."
She had no idea that Master was in the final process of selecting her first tryst. She knew that the add had gotten many replies, but most had turned out to be wankers, Master had told her.
That Friday morning Master left her a note before he went to work.
"Be ready to leave for your first tryst tonight at 6:00pm. Wear the outfit you will find laid out in the den."
Reading the note several times, she finally understood the impact of what it meant. She was really going to be traded out for another to use, without her Master being present. They had spoken about this many times, and fantasized about it, but now it was to become a reality. Her moods quickly changed from disbelief, to excitement, to fear of the unknown. She had no idea who she was to meet, nor what was to happen to her over the next two days, but the ability to fantasize about her plight was keeping her aroused, as she struggled to finish her breakfast.
Not bothering to put her dishes into the sink, she rushed into the den to see what Master had selected for her to wear.
A hot-pink, batwing crop-top of fine latex, with long bell sleeves and moulded bra cups, a very short, black vinyl flare-skirt that she knew only covered to the bottom of her behind cheeks, pink-latex panties, and black vinyl thigh-high platform boots finished off the outfit. Her favorite collar made of black leather, with a large chrome ring in front, heavily adorned with studs, that locked with a tiny gold lock was placed carefully in the center of the table, along with matching wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs. She noted that there was no key among the articles she was to wear, rather it was in a sealed envelope marked:
"To be opened by your new Master, only."
This excited her to no end, the weekend was to be strict bondage, she thought to herself.
Somehow she managed to get through the day without going totally crazy from fantasizing about what was to come. She did find that masturbating herself several times during the mid morning, helped ease her anxiety.
She began to prepare herself early, not wanting to be late for Master’s home coming. She began with a total cleaning of her inside, using an enema on herself several times, alternating between hot, cold, and warm water with salt and soap. Each time she chose another nozzle that was larger and longer than the prior one she had used. Her last filling was with her favorite Bardette inflatable nozzle and a mixture of warm water with wintergreen oil and cinnamon oils.
Feeling like an enema of pure fire, she was only able to force herself to retain it for about ten minutes, before the intensity of the mixture got the best of her. Being an enema fetishist, this was enough to set her off and cause her to masturbate herself once again, during one of the final cold water rinses.
She paid particular attention to her hair and makeup, wanting to look her absolute best for Master. Her eye's done up like cats eyes, highlighted with several shades of eye shadow and just the right shade of lipstick.
She picked up her pink-latex panties which, unknown to her, Master had placed her favorite butt plug inside of them. Happily, she picked it up and with a moan of excitement, pushed it into place then pulled the panties up to firmly hold it inside of her. Pulling her batwing top on, she carefully situated her breasts inside of the moulded cups, making them stand out prominently, and making the top look more like a bra with sleeves than a true top. The eroticism of her breasts being placed firmly outward was not lost to her as she looked at herself in the mirror. The skirt was tight, short, and very revealing to say the least. Barely long enough to cover her ass cheeks, it allowed for the pink panties to peek out from the hemline as she walked.
By the time she was finished, Master’s car was coming up the driveway. She took one final look in the mirror and smiled. She was perfection, and Master would be proud of her. As she walked down stairs to greet Master, the butt plug was already doing its job, she was dripping wet, horny as hell, and about ready to scream with sexual tension.
Master’s dinner was cooked to perfection as always. She knew her place and never faulted to stay well within it’s limits and confines. She knew that Master was not the quickest to react if she erred, but he always knew what she had done wrong, and kept absolute mental notes of all transgressions. Well knowing her place, kneeling at Master’s side as he ate, she kept silent, with her head respectfully bowed as he finished dinner.
"You may clear," he said, and she did so, without hesitation.
"It’s time to go," he said. "Tonight, things will be a bit different. I have spoken to your new tormentor, we have met, and we agree on your plight. He is a good man, and very proficient. You are to take your own car tonight. You will drive to the location on this paper, park and take the bag of alternate clothes for your stay with you, and await his arrival. You will stand on the sidewalk, as a common street walker, a cheap whore and cunt. You will allow everyone who passes to view you as you wait. This is the first step of your public humiliation, more of which we will discuss when you return home. You will go with him when he arrives, and leave your car behind. Do you understand?"
"Yes Master" she said, and taking the paper, she read the instructions and walked out to her car.
The red convertible sat in the drive, polished and ready to go. Her gym bag was on the rear seat, and as she trembled to fit the key into the lock, Master stood her up, looked into her eyes, told her that he loved her very much, kissed her goodbye and walked inside. This gave her the reassurance that as in previous trysts, Master would be awaiting her return to shower his love on her, tend to her bruises and make her even more important his life. She had come to realize that in her Master’s eye, giving her to another was the highest measure of his love for her, and his desire that she always be sexually charged and satisfied. She realized that being traded away was the ultimate amount of control he could have over her, dictating the very safety and use of her body, and the intimacy that she would be giving and receiving from another man.
Taking a deep breath, she started the car and sped off into the setting sun of the evening.
The meeting spot was familiar to her, it was a semi-deserted area, where an old mall had once prospered, but as things go, it was now run-down and a bit dingy.
She found a well-lighted area for her car, grabbed her bag and walked to the designated corner to await her new date.
She glanced at her watch, she was about 20 minutes early, so the wait would be considerable. She knew however, that if she had been late, and Master found out about it, there would be hell to pay. About ten minutes later, she heard the unmistakable sound of a Harley Davidson rumbling toward her. She adjusted her skirt, and smiled as she saw the headlight grow bigger and bigger. She put her hand up as to be a hitchhiker, her idea of a joke. The bike approached, slowed down and stopped in front of her.
"Great, a biker," she thought, with all the sexual connotations it held for her.
The biker turned the engine off, and rolled the bike back a few feet to where she stood. She was amazed as she glanced at him. He was a tall, ruggedly handsome, hugely built black man, bald, and with no helmet. He looked her up and down and she returned the glance. She saw his rippling muscles beneath the black latex tee- shirt he wore. The skin-tight black leather jeans outlined his thighs and huge bulge between his legs. The black boots he wore reminded her of a logger’s boots, laced high to the knee, and very tough looking.
"GET ON," he ordered.
She was on the bike before he finished the order. She wrapped her arms as far around him as she could manage, feeling his rock-solid abs, as she bent forward to put her head on his shoulder.
With a snap of the starter, the Harley roared to life and off they sped into the setting sun. The ride was long, and as they wound through back roads and strange areas, she fantasized about her first black man. She was very excited to find out just how well endowed he was, and how he would use and torment her.
"What a fabulous date," she thought.
There was no way for her to know what did lay ahead for her. No way at all.
That was what she craved, the unknown, the dangerous, and the erotic. Regardless of what was in store for her, she would submit, and without question, she was very well trained. As they rode on, her mind was racing as she fantasized about the weekend to come, her mind was reeling with sexual scenarios, and she felt her panties leaking the wetness pouring from her pussy onto her thighs.
About a half-hour later, they pulled up to large iron gates standing in front of a secluded drive. He pushed something next to the gate and they slowly swung open.
The road ahead was gravel and dirt, rutted from years of use and very well worn.
About a mile further, they pulled up to a restored farm house, probably a hundred or more years old, she imagined. As the bike stopped, he motioned with a flick of his hand for her to dismount, she did as he instructed. He dismounted as well and turning her by the shoulder toward the house, he followed her to the front door.
"My name is Lynn," she said.
She looked at him and smiled.
Not responding to her veiled inquiry about his name, he replied, "Tell me about you, Lynn."
She replied with a five minute diatribe about her life so far . . . Then she told him about why she was there with him, and how Master had arranged it all.
He just smiled and told her to call him, "SIR, at least for now."
Raising his hand above his head, he snapped his fingers.
