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I rested against Mistress, tired in body, but my mind was working overtime. I was relieved that Mistress seemed deep in thought, so I could think about my own situation.
I knew that Mistress was right, that my burning sexual desires had been ignited and that I needed her to help me control them. On the other hand, she had just told me that she would unlock my pussy and that I should use what I had learned at the Pink Flamingo to please both men and women at some other location tonight. I was getting mixed messages, yet I knew that I could trust Mistress and that I wanted to please her.
Temporarily sated, I was able to think more clearly. Images flashed through my memories of the past few days. Some felt right, some felt very wrong.
I drifted off to a shallow sleep. "We're here, slave," Mistress said and jostled me awake. I looked out the window to see the neon lights flash "The Twisted Tit."
We strolled towards the door, hand in hand. The man at the door asked for ID's and I produced mine from my handbag. While he looked at Mistress's ID, I noticed the nicely printed announcement behind glass, declaring that tonight was Amateur night and that there were cash prizes to be won.
We sat down and ordered a drink. Mistress caught the manager's attention and asked him the rules for the competition. His answer was a cliché right out of the movies. "The rules are, there ain't no rules." He laughed, then said the winner was a combination vote by the judges who viewed the audience reaction to the dancer, along with their own opinion of how well she danced and her potential as a money maker. The winner would also be allowed to dance for money the rest of the night and be welcomed back as a regular.
I knew Mistress expected me to dance and win. I was a little nervous. Actually, more than a little nervous.
Mistress broke into my thoughts. "Listen to me. Remember how you danced at the club last night and how hot you were earlier with the pole? This is no different. You want to enjoy yourself and get men's attention."
Again, the contrast and the challenge. I know I reddened, and felt the heat on my cheeks, thinking of the shame I felt after disappointing Mistress last night and yet she was going to trust me again and unlock my pussy rings.
"You did well at the Flamingo and you will do better here. But here is one more tip. Make use of the whole stage, not just the pole. Make them want to fuck you. Show off your pussy lock and then make them notice the key around your neck."
She wasn't going to unlock my pussy, at least not yet. She wanted me to use the key as an enticement.
Mistress was still speaking. "...but most important is the eye contact. Make and keep eye contact with a man till you either know he is going to put money in your garter or not. Then move on to the next man or woman. You seduce them as much with your eyes as your body. Make them want you. Make promises with your eyes and moves, not your words."
I nodded and understood. I wanted to make Mistress proud. I knew my eyes were one of my best features. My lashes were longer than most Asian girls that I knew.
We had approached the dressing room area. I had this feeling in my stomach like when I played sports in high school. Pre-game jitters. I wanted to win so bad. CONTESTANTS ONLY IN THE DRESSING ROOM.
I don't know precisely what I expected when I walked into the dressing room, but certainly not the undisguised hostility that greeted me. I smiled and received glares in return. They must be regulars and immediately disliked any newcomer who might steal their winnings.
Most of the other girls were Hispanic, it seemed to me. I was never comfortable around Hispanic girls. They intimidated me, their full lips and sharply defined hips. And they always seemed to gather in groups of three or more. I hate to use the term "gang-like," but it is what it is. They stared at me and whispered and giggled among themselves. And as usual, they spoke Spanish to each other, even if they knew English.
I began to undress, realizing there would be no private stall available. I faced the locker, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. I glanced to my left as I lowered my shorts. There were two white girls, but they were not built like any girls I knew from California. They looked strong, like body-builders. Intimidating as hell. One spoke to the other and her accent was new to me. She had a harsh look. Eastern European was my first thought.
I saw one other Asian girl. She seemed much older than me. As I removed my top, I looked at her and tried my winning smile again. Just a stare echoed back, not the hint of a smile. She had very large breasts. They must have been enhanced. Suddenly I was embarrassed by my small breasts. What was I doing here?!
As I reached for my bag and monokini, the Asian girl walked by. She raked her nails across my lower back. "Slut, eh?" she said. "You look more like a slave to me," and she walked by, her ass swaying left and right in her bikini.
And then it hit me. I was the only one collared and cuffed, the only slave apparently. At the Pink Flamingo, I was one of many slaves. Collars and chains and piercings were all around. But not here. Here I was alone in my steel bands and chained lip. My tat and earrings screamed SLUT. My belly chain and pussy and nipple piercings left no doubts. I couldn't go through with this!
I wanted to disappear. This was my chance. I could put on my clothes, probably find a back door, and be gone in minutes. I was the last one in the dressing room, and my mind was racing as I put on the black outfit that helped hide some of my signs of enslavement.
Should I just disappear without my phone, and hope Mistress would have mercy on me? No, if she really cared for me, she would understand my feelings and take me away from this place. She loved me.
I grabbed my bag and left the room. Mistress was waiting for me outside the door. No one else was around. The show had already begun and apparently everyone had moved to that area.
"What the fuck is going on, slave?" she asked, not kindly.
"Mistress, please," I begged. "I can't go through with this! Everyone looked at me like I was a total whore. None of them were collared or pierced and they knew right away I was a slave, your slave, Mistress," I implored, my eyes tearing up.
I know what I hoped would happen, but instead Mistress reached out and grabbed the ring at my collar and forcefully pulled me back into the dressing room. I kept sputtering, "Please, Mistress, please," to no avail.
Once inside, she sat on a chair and pulled me over her lap. The flimsy outfit offered no protection and she began to spank me with terrible force. I was helpless against her onslaught. "You," SLAP, "will," SLAP, "not," SLAP, "disobey! You have forgotten what I told you," SLAP SLAP. "It never matters what other people think. Your only desire is to please your Mistress. I own you, body and mind. I have never," SLAP SLAP, "failed to protect you and do what is best for you."
She lifted me by my hair as she rose from the chair, and continued to pull me backwards until my back was arched and she was looking directly in my face. "If I have to, I will strip you, and lead you on all fours by a leash to the staging area. Your only desire in life, your one and only desire is to serve me and please me. Do you understand?"
"Yyyesss, please, I'm sorry," I whimpered.
Mistress propelled me forward with a push and I was stripping even as I staggered. Mistress was pulling a black, latex bikini from my bag as I finished and stood totally naked. She tossed me the bikini without a word and when I looked up for her approval, FLASH, she took a picture with my phone.
My first thought as I shimmied into the bottoms was that there was no bottom! It was a skirt of sorts, but hid nothing. And the bra was again cut to reveal my nipple piercings! This was no bikini. It was a pornographic ensemble.
You can easily create the same story over ..
"The fucking little bitch bit my clit!"
It was all I could do to keep from laughing out loud. "Lena, I have bitten your clit more than once and you have mine as well. What's the problem?" I said trying to sound concerned.
"I wasn't near ready for that and she bit me hard."
"She is very inexperienced. I guess I should not have told her to be so enthusiastic. She licked her first pussy only a few days ago. Slave, apologize to Mistress Lena."
"I am sorry Mistress," she said rather unconvincingly.
Lena was definitely out of the mood now and stormed off. Kelli was still on her knees with her head down as I sat down again. I lifted her head to see her eyes.
"Slave, was that an accident?"
"She was kissing you!" Her eyes started to tear.
"But you have been getting fucked over and over again. Why did this make you so upset?"
"I don't know Mistress. Maybe if she was just fucking you, it might have been different, but she was KISSING you. It's not the same thing."
As I expected. A little jealousy. I changed the subject.
"Slut, you are indeed a mess. Come with me." I took her by the hand and pulled her to her feet. She followed me over to the pool area where I made her strip off her boots and remaining pony wear. I helped her undo the chains that held her pussy lips open and removed the bands on her thighs. She was now completely naked. Then I pushed her under the shower. There were shelves nearby with towels, shampoo, etc. I handed her some shampoo. While she was cleaning up, I slithered out of my daisy dukes and top so I was naked as well. When she was finished I made a quick pass through the shower also, then grabbed my clothes and a few of the big fluffy towels. I took her hand again and led her to the Jacuzzi.
I let the hot steamy water relax us both for a few minutes, then I moved in on her, trapping her body with mine against the wall of the Jacuzzi with a jet of water and bubbles that had to be hitting her ass and pussy from behind. I kissed her deep and passionately. Then I worked two fingers into her, curling them up to find and slowly rub her g-spot while I ground my palm against her clit.
She wasn't being passive. She was mimicking my moves and doing it well. Soon we were both panting with need. Then I put my thumb on her clit and rubbed it first slow then faster while shoving my fingers hard, in and out of her at the same pace as my thumb, each time rubbing her g-spot hard and fast. I could feel it swell with her juices. I felt her spasms begin as her pussy clenched around my fingers. I knew I was just as close. Then those wonderful sounds of hers. "Uhhhh, Ungghhh." And that beautiful shriek I was beginning to really love. "Aieeeeeeeeeeeee." Our orgasms were in total sync.
She collapsed against me, trembling. Right then she seemed like a child or a kitten, perhaps. Completely trusting, completely dependent on me for her safety, for my protection.
As we got out of the bubbling water and were drying off, I heard Karl again call for the pony girls. I yanked on my own clothes, grabbed a dry towel as well, and we headed back to the patio.
The other two pony girls were already there and each were struggling against two men that were attempting to cuff them over the railing of the patio. Behind them was the reason for their struggle. A brazier of hot coals with three branding irons getting red hot and ready. Two more men grabbed Kelli and she screamed. She had seen the branding irons, too. She fought and pleaded for me.
It was then that I stepped in front of Karl and with his face inches from mine. I said calmly, "No. She will not be branded."
He looked at me as though in complete surprise.
"It is customary. A small 'K' on the pony's rump to show she was trained at my stable."
"No," I repeated. For only a couple hours training, let the Kef on her thigh be your 'K' mark if you want, but she will not be branded. She is mine."
All of the partiers were suddenly silent. In shock even. I was sure that no woman had ever said no to Karl, at least here on his turf. Even Kelli and the men holding her had stopped to watch and listen. We still stood nose to nose, eye to eye for several seconds which seemed like an eternity, before Karl broke the silence.
"I think it's wise for you and your slut to leave now."
I nodded in agreement as the men released Kelli's arms. I wrapped her in the towel as she sobbed uncontrollably, but repeating over and over. "Thank you, Mistress, thank you"
The crowd parted for us, still silent. But I knew as soon as we were out of earshot, Karl would burst out laughing at his stunned guests. I had seen the clock on the patio sweep past midnight. It was now April 1st. He had caught all of his guests in our ruse and pulled his biggest joke ever on all of them. Kelli would never know that, though. The ploy had worked perfectly, for me and for Karl.
He had also slipped me the keys for the SUV earlier. As I helped her inside, I realized I had no idea what happened to the clothes she started out with this morning, but the towel would suffice to get her into the hotel.
She passed out or fell asleep almost immediately. Once in her sleep, I heard her murmur softly. "I love you, Mistress."
I was left alone with my thoughts for the long ride home. The first thing that flashed through my mind was, 'What if what had just happened, hadn't been staged? What would I have done?'
That thought opened a Pandora's Box of all the other crazy and new for me, emotions that I had been trying to ignore all week. But unlike Scarlett O'hara. I couldn't 'think about it tomorrow.' She was going on her cruise in the morning.
That thought awoke a couple large butterflies in my stomach. "Oh, geez, Cynthia. You can't be missing her yet. Get a grip," I thought to myself. But I was the one confused now. It would be a long sleepless night for this mistress.
Works of fiction often have themes or morals for readers to think about. Learn the difference between a story's theme and a moral to the story. Explore why the moral of a story is often an implied lesson you can learn from a character's experience, and how theme is an overarching message communicated through setting, characters and action.