Continued from Two Nights With Mistress Tracy (Part 1)
“You seem so scared,” Mistress Tracy said. She was sipping her coffee and leaning against the counter. “What’s to be afraid of? Pam submits to me every day and look, she’s happy.” She gestured towards Pam who was, at that moment, pulling off her robe. “Go on, get naked like her. Slaves don’t wear clothes in my house. Pam just put on the robe to answer the door.”
I sighed and took off my coat, then my sexy black dress. My boots were the last to go. I folded my dress and put my clothes by my bag on the floor.
Mistress Tracy pointed to the middle of her kitchen and I placed myself there. She circled around me, looking me up and down.
“Spread your legs. Hands behind your head.”
I did as she said and felt oddly exposed in front of both her and Pam. I’ve been naked in front of them a few times before, but it was never like this. And Nate was always there.
Now, I was alone.
She felt my cunt which I knew was at least a little wet and then she slapped it and I jumped and yelped with the sudden pain.
“Stay in position,” she warned.
She slapped me a few more times before moving on to my breasts. Then, after mauling my tits for a moment, she bent me over and spread my ass cheeks.
I groaned in humiliation but I did not resist or move out of place. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Pam watching her Mistress humiliate me and I thought I detected a small smirk on her face.
“You’re clean,” Mistress Tracy said. She pulled me up to stand straight. “That’s good.”
“Thank you, Mistress Tracy,” I said obediently.
(An aside: I have never, in the history of knowing her, called her simply, ‘Tracy’. At a party once, a male slave called her Tracy. She asked his owner for permission to punish him, and then proceeded to fuck him in the butt with a strap-on. I was not at that party, but word of her strictness spread among my friends. To the submissives and the slaves, she’s Mistress Tracy.)
“Mistress, may I be excused to get ready for work?” Pam asked in a happy, sing-song voice.
“Go. Come find me before you leave.”
I frowned. Pam works part time as a waitress. If she had to work, that meant I’d be really really alone with Mistress Tracy.
“So I read your latest book. It was pretty good,” Mistress Tracy said. She hopped up onto the kitchen counter and stared at me.
“Thanks,” I whispered. My gut was turning and I knew it was a bad sign that she’d read my book. She was talking about Social Service, a book in which my protagonist gets humiliated, beaten, and thoroughly used. If Mistress Tracy got any evil ideas from my story… well, I was in for a long two days.
“I especially like the chapter where Heather is introduced to the community. I imagine I’m kind of like Miss Jasmine. What do you think?”
In spite of the situation, I smiled. “Yes, Mistress Tracy. Miss Jasmine was a character inspired by you.”
She laughed. “And I also like the part where Heather had to eat oatmeal laced with her Master’s semen.”
Oh, no, I thought to myself. I did not respond.
“Unfortunately,” she continued, “Nate didn’t stay long enough to provide his seed.”
“Come with me.” Mistress Tracy got off the counter. She picked up my bag, handed it to me, and led me down the hallway to her office. “Have you written yet today?”
“No, Mistress Tracy.”
“Nate says you must write for two hours a day.”
I felt relieved that he had dictated at least a little bit about how my time should be spent. Relieved, that is, until I saw what I will refer to henceforth as ‘The Stool’.
The Stool is just that; a stool. It’s wooden, with a thick circular seat, and it sits just a foot off the ground. On it, Mistress Tracy had been thoughtful enough to place a rather intimidating looking butt-plug.
The Stool was near the back wall of her office, just to the left of her desk. It was still early, just ten in the morning, so only a small stream of light poured into her office from the window behind her desk. Her window was cracked open, so a cool breeze kept the room nice and airy. I could see her neighbor’s house just a stone’s throw from hers and prayed no one would look into her window and see my naked body.
“I have some paperwork to do, too. So I can let you write for a couple of hours. You’ll sit there.” She pointed to The Stool and I frowned. She took my bag from me, opened it and pulled out my laptop before dumping the rest of the contents onto the floor. I saw Nate had packed me just a few dresses and a couple of thongs along with my toothbrush, hairbrush, and floss. Mistress Tracy handed me my laptop. “Go on. Get to work.”
I groaned as I looked from her unyielding face to The Stool. I plugged my laptop into the outlet behind her desk and then just sort of stared at The Stool for awhile. “Do you have lube?” I finally asked.
Mistress Tracy had settled in to her work and looked up at me, annoyed. “No. Sit your ass down on that stool, now.”
Her tone was quite motivating. I crouched down and spit on the plug a few times. Then, I lowered my body onto it.
I was instantly uncomfortable and the plug was only inserted what I would estimate was approximately one half inch. I moaned and Mistress Tracy turned to me and glared.
Shaking her head, she said, “Perhaps I’ll have Pam demonstrate how obedient slaves sit down.”
I didn’t want to be compared to Pam, nor did I want Pam to have to impale herself, so I took a deep breath and willed myself to relax. Slowly and carefully I lowered myself onto the bulging plug until it was in place, and I was seated uncomfortably on The Stool.
I stretched my legs out in front of me, opened my laptop, and got to work. This was not a very comfortable way to write, but I sealed my lips and did not complain.
About twenty minutes in to my two hour session with The Stool, Pam knocked on the door to Mistress Tracy’s office. Mistress Tracy waved her in.
Pam looked hot. It is well known in our circle that Pam does not waitress for the money. She does so to dress up like a slut and tease male customers. She works at an equivalent to ‘Hooters’. I’ve been there just once and was semi-appalled by the required uniforms the women wear. I say I was semi-appalled because I was also semi-aroused. The men that frequent these places just leer at the young women and the women seem to love it.
So Pam wore black ‘shorts’ that were so short that her ass hung out of them. They were also quite tight and I could just make out her camel toe. Her stomach was bare, save for a silver chain she wore, and her breasts nearly popped out of her tight black top. She twirled around and Mistress Tracy nodded in approval.
“Come here,” she said to Pam.
Pam obeyed and was soon over Mistress Tracy’s lap. Mistress Tracy spanked her for a long time and I watched, captivated by how strong she was. In a few minutes, she stopped and pushed Pam up.
Pam’s thighs, and the bottom of her butt that peaked out of her shorts, were bright red. Her face, too, was flushed in embarrassment.
“Mistress… what will I say?”
“You’ll tell your boss you were spanked if he asks.” Mistress Tracy was unconcerned with Pam’s predicament. I tried to give her a sympathetic look but I was being ignored in my corner on The Stool.
Pam sighed and left. Mistress Tracy turned to me and said, “We’ll go visit her later on. I think it will be fun.”
I moaned softly. In spite of how terrified I was of Mistress Tracy, I knew that I’d spend the entire two days aroused. While I tried to focus on writing, my mind kept imagining what might happen at Pam’s restaurant, and what torture I was in for that afternoon.
When Mistress Tracy allowed me off The Stool, I gratefully shut down my laptop and eased the dreadful plug out of my ass. She ordered me to the floor and I crawled behind her as she led me to her bedroom. I’d never seen her bedroom before and it was sort of the opposite of what I expected. I’m not sure exactly what I expected… maybe black curtains, handcuffs everywhere, hooks on the ceiling, blood-red pillows splashed on jet black satin sheets.
But instead, it was almost disappointingly normal. Her bed was made neatly with a pale lilac colored comforter. The walls were beige, adorned with wooden trim. There was a pitcher of water on her nightstand and she poured herself a glass, took a long sip, and said, “Come have a drink.”
I knelt by her feet and she tilted my head up with her thumb, then gave me small sips of the water. When the glass was empty she sat down on the bed and stared at me. I felt decidedly uncomfortable with the attention and I fidgeted and gazed at the floor.
“I want to humiliate you,” she said after a long moment of uneasy silence. She leaned down and touched my cheek and I tried my best not to flinch. “I want to make you suffer. Touch yourself, Sadey.”
I knew I was bright red and was decidedly uncomfortable. Nate and I play with others quite frequently, but I very rarely play alone with someone other than him. Being there, with just Mistress Tracy, and knowing I had to obey her… it was an odd experience, to say the least. But I was determined to please her. If Nate came back to find that I’d been difficult, he would be disappointed. To please Nate, I had to please Mistress Tracy.
So I touched myself. My pussy was wet which wasn’t surprising, and using my own slickness as lubrication, I fingered myself. I rolled my clitoris between my fingers. I slipped inside for just a moment to get that feeling of fullness that I love. And then I looked up at her, and she was looking down at me with such intensity that I nearly came. But she said, “No, no. Don’t come yet.”
I moaned as she kept me in that desperate edge, that crazy cliff where I was just a small, quick rub away from falling off into bliss. It was strange the way she stared at me with such keen interest, such curiosity. She’d seen me orgasm before—this was not totally new stuff to her. But I felt good there, being watched so intently.
She got off her bed and knelt beside me, stroking my back just ever so lightly. I shivered and she laughed.
“I’m going to have fun with you. Tonight, I think I’ll dress you up in one of Pam’s waitress outfits. We’ll ask the manager if you can give the job a shot.”
I whimpered a little and she slapped my thigh.
“Sadey, no whining. Ever. You’ll like dressing up like a slut and showing off your body.” She rubbed my thigh where she’d slapped it and leaned in closer. “If you’re good today, I’ll wait to beat you until after the restaurant. If you’re bad, your ass and thighs will be lined with marks and all of the customers will know you’ve been spanked, just like Pam.”
I was trembling and needed to orgasm but was afraid to ask her for permission. I waited quietly until finally, Mistress Tracy squeezed my thigh hard and said, “Come for me.”
Her grip on my leg pushed me into a powerful orgasm. I threw my head back and looked up at her ceiling as I groaned with pleasure. I’d barely finished cumming when Mistress Tracy slapped my thigh once more and ordered me to get up. So, on shaking legs, I stood and waited for whatever torment she’d planned for me next.
Since Nate and I live in a rural area, we often play outside with no worries about neighbors or even a passing car. Our backyard is well shielded from the road. Mistress Tracy and Pam live in a suburban neighborhood, where the houses are just an arm’s length from each other and neighbors walk their dogs outside and stop to chat with each other. It’s all very friendly in a TV sitcom sort of way.
So, when Mistress Tracy laid out her plan for me, my stomach turned with dread.
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