Continued from Two Nights With Mistress Tracy (Part 2)
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“I’m going to dress you up like a prostitute,” she announced. She went to her closet and pulled out a short, hot-pink miniskirt and threw it in my direction. “Since you can’t walk out of my house looking like a whore, I’m gonna drive you a few blocks away. Then, I’ll pick you up at the corner by that gas station—you know the one, right?”
“It’ll be about a forty minute walk.” She threw a high heeled shoe at me, which I fumbled to catch, and then the other. “Nate says you guys go walking almost every day. I didn’t want you to miss out on your exercise. Ah, here it is.” She pulled out a small piece of black fabric that I soon learned was a tube top.
I stood there, naked and with my mouth hanging open, holding the heels and the miniskirt like I didn’t know what to do with them. She shook her head in disgust. “Pam would have been dressed and putting on makeup by now.”
I didn’t like being compared to her slave. Pam and I have very different arrangements. While Nate and I are full-time Master/slave, day-to-day we’re mostly peers. There are minor, subtle ways in which we recognize our relationship, but they are not as blatant or as frequent as Mistress Tracy and Pam’s routine.
With shaking hands, I slid into the skirt. It was tight, and I felt my ass to see if my butt cheeks would show. Thankfully, the fabric would cover up my butt completely. The heels were at least three inches high. And the tube top was absolutely horrible. It had a built in bra thing that pushed my boobs up, making my cleavage lewdly obvious. It fell just below my rib cage, leaving my navel bare.
Mistress Tracy led me to the master bathroom and instructed me to put on makeup from her collection. I did, and when she came back to see me she bent me over and spanked me hard ten times.
“More,” she said.
I could not believe my reflection. I really did look like a whore. And not a classy whore. Classy whores, I imagined, would go a little lighter on the makeup and wear a slightly less slutty costume.
She put my hair into a high ponytail and then nodded, satisfied that I looked appropriately trashy. She handed me a small bag. “This has your cell phone in it. Call me if you have a problem.”
We went to her garage and got into her car. My heart was racing and I was fidgeting nervously.
“Mistress Tracy… what if someone tries to buy me?”
She laughed. “In this neighborhood? In broad daylight? Not a chance.”
“What if someone attacks me?”
She turned to face me. “Do you not trust me?”
“No… I mean yes, I trust you. I just look so… trashy.”
“This is one of the safest neighborhoods in the city. Our crime rate is nothing.” She took a right, driving far away from the gas station where I’d meet her later. “You’ll get glared at by my neighbors. Kids might laugh at you.” She shrugged, then turned to me and smiled. “I’m going to love this. I can’t do this kind of thing with Pam. We have to appear to be normal people. Can’t have our neighbors thinking she’s a whore.”
Mistress Tracy pulled her car over at the edge of a park. “Get out.”
I clutched the handbag she’d given me as tight as I could and looked to her one last time, hoping for mercy. She glared at me and I sighed. I got out and wobbled a bit as I adjusted to the heels. As soon as I shut the door, Mistress Tracy drove away.
I looked down at my outfit, my bare legs, bare stomach, and exposed chest. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath.
Pretend you’re wearing a sweatsuit, I told myself as I started my walk. The park was deserted and I was happy for that. It was a Tuesday afternoon, well before school was out, and I was thankful that I wouldn’t be seen by many, if any, innocent children.
The first person I saw was a block ahead of me, walking my way with a white toy poodle straining at the leash in front of him. I prayed he would take a turn and go in some other direction. But no, he kept on course, straight toward me.
Just behind him I recognized Mistress Tracy’s car and felt both relieved and even more humiliated knowing that she would be observing my walk of shame from afar.
I kept my eyes to the ground as he approached. My heart was beating hard and I was so incredibly nervous. I hate involving non-kinky people in any kinky play. It feels wrong, like I’m forcing them to do something they didn’t sign on for. I tried to tell myself this wasn’t like that. Lots of girls dress up in slutty outfits every day, and they aren’t necessarily slaves that have been ordered to do so.
While my gaze stayed on the ground, I heard his footsteps, then a cheerful, “Hey there.”
“Hey,” I mumbled.
Neither of us took pause from the beat of our separate strides and I breathed a long sigh of relief.
My walk continued like this. Innocent joggers, dog-walkers, and even a woman with a stroller passed me without seeming to bat an eye. Impressed with the openness of the neighborhood, my confidence returned and I held my head up high. I’d sort of assumed someone would throw stones at me or yell at me for exposing myself like a tramp. This did not appear to be a correct assumption.
A few Latino guys were hanging out on their porch drinking beers. One of them whistled and another called out, ‘Ey puta linda!’
To which I replied, ‘Callate cabrón!’ And they laughed and cheered. My own personal cheering squad.
Apart from them, and a few honks, I was left alone. The gas station was just a few blocks away, but I knew those blocks would be the worst. The streets around Mistress Tracy’s home aren’t driven on a lot, except for this one, which is more of a main drag than a windy suburban road.
I saw Mistress Tracy’s car ahead in the gas station and quickened my pace. A long line of cars were waiting at a red light and I saw leering looks of both drivers and passengers. One woman called out of her window, “This is a family neighborhood! You should be ashamed of yourself!”
I wanted to assure her that I was ashamed but I just kept walking forward.
Then, the worst part of it all, when I was just seconds away from diving into Mistress Tracy’s car, a policeman stepped in front of me.
“Excuse me, miss. You doing OK?”
My face burned in shame. “I’m fine. Thank you, sir.”
“I’m just… on my way to a costume party.”
“Ah, all right then.” He chuckled and stepped aside.
Mistress Tracy was grinning when I slipped inside her car.
“That was every bit as fun as I thought it would be,” she said, starting the engine. “Maybe we’ll do it again tomorrow.”
I groaned, realizing tomorrow I had a full day in the hands of Mistress Tracy. She handed me a coat. “Put that on. We’ll go get something to eat.”
The meal with Mistress Tracy was completely vanilla and it was actually fun to chat with her. Because Nate and I are only around her during play parties, I’ve never really had the chance to get to know her on a personal level. I’ve licked her cunt, sure. But I never knew she was active in her political party or that she volunteers at a mental health facility on Tuesdays. Mistress Tracy, it seems, is a person first and a sadistic evil bitch second.
(And I say that knowing Mistress Tracy will read this. Trust me, Mistress, I mean ‘bitch’ in the most loving way imaginable)
The normalcy of the meal vanished when we pulled back onto the road.
“Take that coat off,” she said. “We’re going to a sex shop.”
… continued at Two Nights With Mistress Tracy (Part 4) …