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Two Nights With Mistress Tracy (Part 7)

Continued from Two Nights With Mistress Tracy (Part 6)

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

I took a bathroom break and when I was done, I waited for them, as ordered, in the living room. Mistress Tracy came back first, wearing a tight black corset and black leather pants. She had her hair up in a tight ponytail and wore bright red lipstick. In her hand was a long leather flogger, which she raised up in the air and snapped against the couch.

I almost jumped out of my skin.

“Help me move things,” she said. We moved the couch to the very edge of the large, green area rug. The coffee table and end tables we placed along the walls, leaving the center of the room empty.

I’ll admit this was quite nerve-wracking. Creating lots of space meant that we’d be needing lots of space. Mistress Tracy wanted a ‘show’. What did that mean? Would Pam and I be dancing for her?

Honestly, I hoped not. I’m fairly confident about my body, but next to Pam I am an awful dancer. I knew I shouldn’t compare myself to her but I couldn’t help it. My heart was beating hard against my chest as I helped Mistress Tracy.

She closed the curtains, making the room eerily dark for the middle of the day. Humming to herself, she fiddled around with her stereo until ominous music filled the room. It took me a moment to realize it was a mix of pipe organ and string instruments. She turned it up high and flashed me an evil grin as the sounds flooded my ears.

Pam reappeared, looking as shaken as I felt. She held a double dildo, a strap on, and two pairs of nipple clamps. She looked at me and swallowed hard.

“On your hands and knees, girls. Facing away from each other,” Mistress Tracy ordered. She took the toys from Pam and gently shoved her down to the floor.

Pam crawled into place and I dropped to my hands and knees and put myself into position, facing away from her.

Mistress Tracy maneuvered Pam until our butts were nearly touching. She slipped the dildo into my pussy, then Pam’s.

“King built me a new piece of furniture,” she announced, getting up and crossing the room. I watched her in fear. The music was so loud—too loud—and my pussy was adjusting to the girth of the dildo. My arms were trembling. I love and hate these moments, as a scene is beginning and the dominant has not explained what will happen. Anticipation is both torturous and sweet.

The contraption turned out to be a simple wooden board that ran in between our legs. In the middle of it, I saw later, is a wooden pole that was conveniently cut to rise to the height of our cunts. At the top of the pole is a hole, where Mistress Tracy threaded flat piece of rope. She tied the dildo in place, and stood back to admire of us.

“Why aren’t you fucking yourselves, girls?” she asked, pacing around us. She picked up the flogger and I winced as she brought it down hard on Pam’s back. I felt the dildo move and knew Pam was rocking back and forth. Without the need for motivation, I followed suit.

My obedience didn’t spare me, and soon I felt stinging pain of the leather straps burning into my skin. I cried out loudly and jolted forward, knowing instantly I’d made an error.

“Get your cunt back on that dick!” Mistress Tracy snapped, stinging me again with the cruel flogger.

I whimpered and resumed fucking myself.

“If either of you lets the dildo out of your cunt, I’ll add the clamps,” she warned.

I wondered how long we would be kept there, fucking ourselves. Mistress Tracy brought the flogger down on both of us a few more times before taking a seat on the couch. She told us to go faster and when I looked over to her I saw she was rubbing herself through her pants. She caught my eye and licked her lips.

That momentary distraction made me groan and move forward too much and the dildo slid out of my pussy. I slammed myself back on it hard, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

She had.

In a flash she was attaching clothespin-like clamps to my nipples. I moaned loudly in pain and hoped she wouldn’t punish Pam for my failure. But a moment later, I heard Pam whimper.

“Sorry, Pam,” I whispered.

Then, Mistress Tracy did something deliciously evil. She ordered us to stay still, and tied two thin ropes to our clamps, connecting our breasts together. My left breast was tied to Pam’s right breast, and my right breast to her left breast. Mistress Tracy tied them very taut, and smiled in satisfaction. “Keep fucking!” she ordered loudly, snapping us with the flogger.

So as we fucked, we tried to keep in rhythm, each moving the same way to keep the rope from stretching our nipples. It was useless, though. With the flogger raining down on our backs and our asses, it was impossible to maintain any semblance of normal rhythm, and our tits stretched painfully as we pulled against each other.

It wasn’t long before I was soaring in subspace. The pain in my tits, the dildo in my cunt, and the stinging splash of the flogger against my sore skin was incredibly intense. I wanted to beg her to beat me harder but I knew whatever I asked for would be doled out to Pam as well.

“The slave who cums first will be punished,” Mistress Tracy announced. “She’ll be punished by the other slave while I watch.” She picked up the strap-on and put the head of the black cock into her mouth, licking it seductively as she gazed down at us.

Seriously, I almost came on the spot. Lucky for me, I can almost never cum without clitoral stimulation (which is ultimately unlucky for me, but in this instance I was happy about it). Mistress Tracy ordered us to move faster and I felt Pam rocking hard against the dildo. I’m not sure what inspired me to do this, but as I heard the flogger smack Pam’s back a few times in a row, I shouted, “Cum, Pam! I want to punish you for cumming for us!”

And I felt her shake against the dildo and her cries blended with the music as she erupted in an enormous orgasm. Mistress Tracy was chuckling and she knelt down and yanked off the nipple clamps, making us both yelp in pain.

“Good girl, Sadey,” she whispered into my ear. Her breath was hot against my skin. “I’m going to enjoy watching you fuck her ass.”

I was breathless and nearly speechless, but the small dominant bug that lives inside me came to life and I whispered back, “Can I make her lick me first?”

“Sure you can.” She stood up and took a seat on the couch. “Pamela,” she said, her voice stern, “I’m surprised you lost the little game. You’ll be Sadey’s slave for the next forty minutes. My only requirement for her is that she fucks your asshole. Everything else, Sadey,” she said, turning to me, “is up to you. We talked about this before—I’ll make sure you don’t do anything unsafe. Let’s see you try to be dominant.”

We had, indeed, discussed this before. When I started writing erotica, I wanted to explore what it feels like to top someone. I’d ‘played’ top before, at parties, but I’d never really gotten into the role. I knew I was just playing top with Pam, because Mistress Tracy was really in control. But my pussy was burning with desire as I imagined what I might do. I looked over to Pam. She was still recovering from her orgasm and I could tell she was trying to process what her Mistress was saying. She looked at me and when our eyes met I smiled at her.

“Don’t worry, Pam,” I said. “I won’t hurt you too much.”

She whimpered but I knew she’d enjoy serving me. I was so fucking horny at that moment that I didn’t want to do anything with her until I came. So I stretched out on the rug, spread my legs, and said, “Lick.”

continued at Two Nights With Mistress Tracy (Part 8)

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Two Nights With Mistress Tracy (Part 6)

Continued from Two Nights With Mistress Tracy (Part 5)

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

Mistress Tracy found a table while I went back with Patrick. He showed me the menus and the soda machine. “Just take their order and get them their drinks. If they have any questions about the food, tell them you’re in training and get Pam to help you. When they give you their order, give it to Pam and she’ll do the rest.”


“Here you go,” he said, handing me a pad to take down orders. “Here’s a diagram of the tables. You’ll take one through seven, got it?”

I nodded, studying the diagram and then popping out to the main room to check that I understood where the corresponding tables were.

“Good,” said Patrick. “Number three hasn’t been greeted yet.”

Taking a deep breath, I went to the front room. At table number three sat a group of four young guys, maybe in their early twenties. When I approached, they hushed their conversation and looked at me eagerly.

These guys really, really looked at me. I’ve felt like an object plenty of times in my life, but never in such a strange vanilla setting. It was like since they had permission to stare at a girl they were going to do it as best as they could.

“Welcome,” I said cheerfully, handing them menus. One of the guys was staring right at my chest and I checked to make sure the skimpy top was still covering my nipples. “Can I bring you something to drink?”

They ordered water and I soon relaxed in my new position. Patrick watched me carefully at first until he was satisfied I wouldn’t screw up. Pam and I shared the tables, so after I took their food orders she handled bringing out their meals. I was glad for that—I’d never wanted to be a waitress for fear that I would spill hot soup or something into a customer’s lap.

Syd came in about twenty minutes into my shift as a waitress and he scooped me into his arms for a big hug. I hadn’t seen him since New Years and was happy he was back.

“So Nate gave you away, huh?” he asked with a wink.

“Yeah. Until tomorrow.”

“Everyone is gonna love hearing about this.” He shot me a knowing smile and slid into the booth across from Mistress Tracy.

While Syd and Mistress Tracy chatted, Pam and I worked, and I discovered I kind of like waitressing in a skimpy outfit. Since the main reason customers come to Pam’s restaurant is to gawk at pretty girls, they really had no reservations about it. It wasn’t like wearing the slutty outfit earlier and having pedestrians half-look at me, but avert their eyes and try not to stare. No, these guys (and some girls) unabashedly gazed at us while we moved around the restaurant.

“Do you ever see people you know?” I asked Pam during our dinner break.

“Hardly. And then, only the type of people who would be OK with me having a job like this. It isn’t like my mom is going to show up here.”

She had a good point. I’d briefly wondered what some of my friends would say if they saw me there, with my butt hanging out of my shorts and my boobs nearly falling out of my top. But it just wasn’t a concern; none of my conservative friends would frequent a place like that. In fact, one of my friends recently called the restaurant, ‘A feminist’s nightmare,’ and ended her diatribe with, ‘I wouldn’t be caught within a block of that place.’

Patrick let us off early, and we all gave Syd a hug goodbye. Mistress Tracy instructed Pam to leave her car at the restaurant. Pam and I were herded into Mistress Tracy’s backseat with these instructions: “Take off those shorts, girls. The rule for the ride home is that your fingers never leave each other’s cunts.”

Syd overheard that as he walked toward his car and turned back with a wistful expression. I wished he was joining us, actually. Showing my body off for three hours had made me rather excited and I wouldn’t have minded two sadists having their way with me. He was off to work a night-shift, though, and wouldn’t be joining us.

Pam had her shorts off in a flash and yanked mine down for me. I giggled and helped her undress me, thankful for tinted windows and the darkness of the night. She slid two fingers inside me and I groaned as she curled them just-so. I reciprocated, our arms crossing each others, and found her cunt slippery and smooth like mine. Pam moaned happily as I gently pumped in and out of her and Mistress Tracy smiled at us through her review mirror.

When Mistress Tracy pulled into her garage, she ordered Pam to make me cum. I pulled my fingers from Pam’s cunt and relaxed as she fingered me. It didn’t take long for me to climax, and though I knew Pam wanted to cum too, Mistress Tracy told us to get out of the car. Inside, we stripped off our tops as required.

The rest of the evening was surprisingly (and, admittedly, disappointingly) vanilla. I was still completely horny, but Pam was tired after working her shift. Mistress Tracy turned on the TV and we watched Dexter, which they were really into but I’d already seen. Pam and I sat on the carpeted floor by Mistress Tracy’s feet. I fell asleep halfway through, and woke to Mistress Tracy yanking me up.

“Time for bed,” she said. We washed up, brushed teeth, drank water, and collapsed on Mistress Tracy’s bed together.

“This is a privilege,” Mistress Tracy was sure to remind me.

I nodded and thanked her sincerely. I was grateful to be on the bed rather than the floor. I snuggled into the covers and relished the warmth of being next to Pam and Mistress Tracy.

I woke up before them (I’m an early riser) and watched them sleep for a few minutes. Mistress Tracy was on her back and Pam was curled up next to her, sleeping peacefully with her head in the crook of her Mistress’ shoulder. They looked so right together that I wished I had a camera to capture the moment. But, sometimes scenes like those aren’t meant to be captured; only remembered fondly.

I made a pot of coffee and prepared some breakfast ingredients. Looking at the clock, I estimated I had a couple of hours before I’d be cooking up eggs for them. So I wrote, with a blanket around my naked body to keep warm, without the aid of The Stool, until I heard a toilet flush and knew they were getting up. I hopped up and got to work making scrambled eggs and toast and melon balls, and I made everything look pretty. For some reason I really like making sure food and table settings look nice.

My efforts were appreciated by the still-groggy Mistress Tracy and Pam. After breakfast, Mistress Tracy yawned, got up, and said, “This morning, I want to be pampered.” She looked back and forth between Pam and I and smiled at us. “I want my every whim taken care of. Got it?”

We replied in unison: “Yes, Mistress Tracy.”

Pam took her by the hand and in an uncharacteristic display of leadership, led her down the hall. I followed, and she went to a room I’d never seen. The walls were dark green, with white wooden trim. A dark red throw rug covered most of the wooden floor. There was a massage table set up against one wall and I helped Pam move it to the center of the room. Looking around, I noticed a sawhorse against the other wall. Pam caught my eye and whispered, “For real punishments.”

I nodded solemnly. Pam once confided with me that, while Mistress Tracy is a sadistic woman, she rarely actually punishes people. When she does punish, the sessions are long and painful. I’ll confess that when I’m feeling particularly masochistic, I’ve imagined being truly punished by Mistress Tracy.
Edit: After she read this, she assured me that I would not enjoy a real punishment from her, no matter how masochistic I’m feeling.

Pam put on soft, mellow music and we spent the next hour and a half giving Mistress Tracy a sensual massage. We started with her scalp and moved down from there, with Pam whispering directions to me as we worked. She showed me what Mistress Tracy likes, and I admired how well she knows her Mistress’ body.

When we massaged her ass, Mistress Tracy slightly parted her legs. While I continued massaging her with my hands, Pam leaned down and licked. She licked her in between her cheeks, and when Mistress Tracy moaned I knew that Pam was playing with her asshole. I swallowed hard and nearly stopped rubbing as I watched, but steeled myself and continued working.

Pam used her hands and tongue to make Mistress Tracy orgasm twice before she straightened up and began working with me again. She gave me a wink and a smile as we worked down Mistress Tracy’s thighs, to her calves, and finally her feet. At her feet, Pam motioned for me to do as she was doing, and we both knelt on the floor and spent a good amount of time sucking and nibbling Mistress Tracy’s toes.

When we had her turn over, Mistress Tracy looked calmer than I’d ever seen her before. She said, “Good girls,” and Pam quickly replied with, “May we continue, Mistress?”

She nodded and we worked our way back up her body. When we got up to her pussy I looked to Pam for approval and she nodded at me. I took my turn licking Mistress Tracy while Pam massaged her, and in minutes, as I was lightly sucking on her clit, she arched her back and groaned loudly as she shuddered in orgasm.

We didn’t stop touching her until we got back up to her scalp again. She sighed softly with pleasure as Pam helped her up off the table.

“May we bathe you now, Mistress?” Pam asked sweetly.

“No,” Mistress Tracy murmured. “Later. Right now I want a show.”

… continued at Two Nights With Mistress Tracy (Part 7)


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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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