Tag Archives: humiliation

Two Nights With Mistress Tracy (Part 3)

Continued from Two Nights With Mistress Tracy (Part 2)

Just joining us? Go to the beginning of the account: Two Nights With Mistress Tracy (Part 1)

“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?”

I nodded.

“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.”

“You sure?”

“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)


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Filed under Fantasy, Sadey Sex

Excerpt from Under Order: A Dirty Chill

Like a total doof, I posted a chapter from my latest novel in pretty much every forum except my own blog. Oops.

Here you go!

M/f, MM/f, humiliation, spanking, punishment

Heather Green is a young workaholic lawyer with no time for a relationship. Until she meets Mark. Mark’s dominance, his commands, and his expectations soon lead Heather down a path she never dreamed possible. As Mark and Heather grow to know one another, Heather learns pieces of the lifestyle Mark is leading her towards. Will a BDSM intentional community make a slave free?

—–

The walk went quickly. Ralph’s was just a block from my apartment. All of my work to disguise myself was for nothing; hardly anyone was outside.

Mark was dressed very casually in old blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Instead of his usual BMW, he had a brown, dented Honda. He kissed me when I arrived, then stood back to look at me.

“Didn’t I tell you to wear the dress and nothing more?” he asked.

“I’m not wearing anything else,” I said.

“Take off the sunglasses and the hat.”

I took them off sheepishly, knowing I hadn’t done as he had asked.

“Wait here,” he said. He went into Ralph’s and I waited impatiently. It was still very light outside and I was worried that I would see someone I knew.

Mark returned. “Follow me,” he said. He led us around to the back of the store and unlocked the men’s bathroom door. He pushed me inside and locked the door behind us.

“Bend over and put your hands on the sink, Heather.”

I looked at him, then at the sink, then back to him. “Really?” I asked. The sink didn’t appear to be very clean.

Without a word, Mark pushed me forcefully down to the sink. I used my hands to catch myself and he covered them with his. I felt his whole body around me, his strength and power so obvious. His hands were so much bigger than mine, holding me down.

“If you move these fucking hands before I’m done, you will be a very sorry little slave,” he growled softly into my ear. I shuddered under him. I was scared.

“Did you think that I wanted you to wear a little disguise along with your outfit, Heather?” he asked, standing up and positioning himself behind me.

“No,” I admitted.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice that you disobeyed?”

“I… I didn’t know. I didn’t know if you were serious,” I said. I looked down at the sink and saw rings of mineral deposits. I decided I did not like men’s bathrooms.

“Look back at me, Heather,” he said. I looked at him and was relieved to see he had a small smile on his face. “You can rest assured, my dear, for any future commands that I give you, that I am always very serious.”

He reached to his back pocket and produced a wooden spoon. “This,” he said, “is something I usually carry when I’m going out with a slave or submissive girl. In public, it is very difficult to discretely give a naughty girl a proper punishment. But I can use this quite effectively without producing a lot of noise. As long as you keep quiet, Heather, your neighborhood shopkeeper won’t be the wiser. You may face forward now.”

I looked forward, a bit annoyed. I didn’t want to be punished. It seemed so unfair that he would spank me for a simple misunderstanding.

Mark pulled my dress up over my ass, bunching it up at my waist. He wasted no time and used the spoon to pepper my butt with a series of spanks.

I bit my lip to keep myself from crying out. It was worse then his hand, and maybe even worse then the paddle Jasmine used to spank me. It stung. I clutched the sides of the sink as hard as I could, not knowing if I would be able to keep myself from using my hands to block the blows. Before long I was hopping from foot to foot, moving my ass around to try to avoid his spanks.

He stopped and I breathed a sigh of relief. His hands grazed my skin softly. “Do you think you’ve been punished enough, Heather?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said quickly. Definitely.

“I disagree, but I prefer a change in venue. Wash your hands.”

I washed my hands thoroughly. Mark pulled my dress down and led me back out to the parking lot.

“Get in. I’ll return the bathroom key to Ralph,” he said, unlocking the door to the car.

We drove for over a half hour. I realized he was taking us to one of the sketchy parts of town. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to this area. He pulled into street parking and gestured to a restaurant across the road. It was a diner that desperately needed new siding. On the glass door entrance was a neon ‘open’ sign.

“Do you think a lot of your colleagues go to restaurants like this?”

“Um, no,” I said.

“Or friends?”

“Nope.”

“Or estranged Mormon relatives?” he said, looking at me and smiling.

“More likely scenario, but no. I don’t think so.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

“Like this? Here?” I asked nervously, looking down at my outfit. My dress barely covered my tits and my ass, and my boots and makeup just made the outfit over the top. In this part of town, I’d be assumed to be an actual prostitute wearing this kind of thing.

“Ah. Your hesitation reminds me that you still deserve a little more punishment. And I love embarrassing you. It’s so easy. Come on, follow me. I have an idea.”

I reluctantly followed Mark as he quickly walked across the street and into the restaurant. It was crowded, to my disappointment, and I felt the eyes of the customers on me as we entered. Mark signaled a waitress and asked to speak to the manager.

Seconds later, a man around 50 years old with a bit of a gut sauntered up to us.

“What do you want?” he grumbled, glaring at Mark and eying me with lust. He spoke with a bit of an accent that could only be described as ‘rural’. I stepped behind Mark a little bit more, trying to hide from the man’s gaze.

“Hello, sir,” Mark began, reaching out to shake the man’s hand. “Listen, I have an odd question for you. Do you have an office where we can speak privately?”

The man looked Mark up and down and asked, “Is you a cop?”

“No, sir.”

“Fine, then. I’m Wayne. I don’t got no personal office. You want private… we could talk in the refrigerator. It’s a walk-in fridge, just got ‘er installed last week.”

“That would be perfect,” said Mark. We followed Wayne back into the kitchen, which was surprisingly clean. He opened the large, steel door of the fridge and shouted out to the cooks, “HEY – WE’S GOT A PRIVATE DISCUSSION TO HAVE. STAY OUTTA HERE FOR A FEW MINUTES.”

The three cooks murmured and nodded, not paying much attention to their boss. We all entered the refrigerator, and Wayne shut the door behind us and turned on the light. My nipples immediately hardened from the cold and I shivered in my skimpy dress. The light was florescent and bright. I wished Wayne had an office. A dimply lit office would befit him well.

“Do you wanna sit down on something? There’s buckets under that shelf,” he said.

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary,” replied Mark.

“So what do you want?” Wayne asked, his voice slightly irritable. He was staring directly at me though speaking to Mark.

“Well, I’ve got a bit of a problem,” Mark began. “This young lady is on a date with me. She’s been a bit naughty. I want to give her a spanking, but I’m just too far from home to spank her in private. I know this is a really strange request, but would you mind if we spank her here?”

My jaw dropped open. I couldn’t believe these words were flowing so easily out of Mark’s mouth.

“Well I’ll be goddamned,” said Wayne. I looked at him, wondering if he would kick us out immediately. “You sure you ain’t a cop?” he asked.

“I’m not a cop,” said Mark.

“And her neither?” he asked, leering at me.

“She’s a waitress.”

“Yeah, figures,” said Wayne. “I got half a mind to spank some of the waitresses here, spillin’ every damned thing and takin’ thirty minute cigarette breaks. Like they’re queens or somethin’, right?”

“That’s exactly right,” said Mark.

“Well, you wanna spank her in this here ‘frigerator, well you can go right ahead. Only thing is I get to watch.”

My stomach turned over and I looked at Mark, desperately wanting him to take me away from this terrible situation. He looked back at me and smiled slyly.

“Actually,” Mark said, “if you don’t mind, I think it would do her good to get a spanking from you.”

Wayne looked at Mark, then at me, and back to Mark. A broad smile formed across his face. “Well I’ll be goddamned,” he said again. “This day sure is turnin’ around. I had my best cook quit this mornin’, and the wife’s all angry at me about somethin’ stupid or other. If it wouldn’t suit me to spank your pretty little girlfriend, I dunno what would. Goddamn.”

“All right then. Do you mind doing it here?” Mark asked.

“I don’t mind one tiny lil’ bit,” said Wayne.

“Very good. Darling, please take your dress off and bend over. You can rest your hands on your knees.”

In spite of the cool temperature of the refrigerator I could feel my cheeks burning with shame. I pulled my dress off and handed it to Mark. Then I turned towards the walls behind us and bent over. My mind was spinning with the humiliation of being so exposed to this stranger. The only comfort I felt was that I knew I’d never see this man again.

Wayne let out a long, low whistle. “Boy, does your girl have a nice ass.”

“She does… but she definitely needs it reddened on occasion. It helps to keep her in line,” Mark explained. “Have you spanked a girl before, Wayne?”

“Well not just like this, that’s for sure. I’s smacked my wife good and hard on the ass once in awhile, but only when I’m screwin’ her,” he said.

“OK. Go on and give this naughty girl a few spanks,” Mark said. I cringed, dreading this man touching me more than the pain of the spanking to come. Two astonishingly light spanks fell on my ass, followed by a quick grope of both of my ass and then two more light spanks.

“Here,” said Mark. I looked up to see him holding his hand cupped a little for Wayne, demonstrating. “Try it like this.”

SMACK!

“Ow!” I cried as Mark spanked me hard.

Wayne let out another low whistle. “Well I’ll be damned,” he said.

“Just give her a few like that, and then rub her butt for awhile. Then a few more, and so on,” Mark said helpfully. I shot a glare back at him and he grinned at me.

Wayne was a quick student and did just as Mark said, alternating firm smacks on my ass with copious amounts of rubbing and groping. I was cold and ashamed and wanted nothing more than for this punishment to be over. The heat of the spanking only relieved the cold feeling on my ass. I shivered from both the pain and the chill and I couldn’t tell the difference between the two sensations.

“I think that’s pretty good, Wayne,” Mark finally said. I breathed deeply with a rush of relief. “Stand up and thank him, darling.”

I stood up and turned around, debating whether I should cover my tits or my bare cunt from Wayne’s creepy eyes. I tried to cover both, using my left hand and arm to conceal my breasts and my right hand to hide my pussy. I looked up at Mark and saw his eyebrows furrowing. He shook his head and I sighed, placing my hands at my sides. He wanted to show me off to this man.

“Thank you, Wayne, for spanking me,” I said.

“You sure are welcome, girl,” Wayne replied. “Hell, I’ll spank you anytime.”

“Here’s your dress, put it on now,” said Mark.

As fast as I could, I put on the dress and pulled it as far down over my butt as I could.

“We’re going to grab a bite to eat here, Wayne. Anything on your menu that you recommend we try?” asked Mark.

Wayne opened the door and I nearly ran out to the kitchen. I was cold. All three of the people working in the kitchen looked up at us when we left the walk-in refrigerator. Had they heard anything? Had they heard everything?

I barely listened as Wayne droned on and on about the food. He led us back to a corner booth in the front of the restaurant and handed us both laminated menus. There were windows all around us, brightly lighting our table.

“Well it was sure nice meetin’ you both. What did you say your names are?”

“I’m Steven,” said Mark quickly. “And this is Kate.”

“All right. You two enjoy your meal. Ya’lls welcome back, anytime.” Wayne paused before leaving us, taking a few inappropriate seconds to look at me. I shrunk down into the booth.

Click to read more on Smashwords, or to buy Under Order on Amazon.com.

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