0 comments/ 33132 views/ 0 favorites Lady Sarah's Holiday Ch. 01 By: Crayon Her email stated: “Arriving Miami on the 4th for ten days. Book me a room at the Delano with an ocean view. Shave your head bald. Wax your chest, pubes, and ass.” I hadn’t seen Lady Sarah in nearly a year, since I visited the UK. The Brits say the weather’s always bad there. I honestly couldn’t tell, since I spent the entire week locked in a dog crate in her basement, slurping spaghetti from a plastic bowl without my hands. Such bliss! She had commanded me not to masturbate until I got back to the States. Yeah, right! As soon as I left her beautiful home, I handed the taxi driver a hundred-dollar bill and told him to keep his eyes facing forward. I hunched down in the back seat, pulled my cock through the fly, and jacked a load into a sock. The driver kept glancing at me through the rearview mirror. I swear that guy’s a perv! I got home late from work on the 4th and checked my email, expecting further instructions from Lady Sarah. Nothing! My heart threatened to break. Maybe she didn’t come? Maybe her flight was delayed? Maybe she had come, but didn’t wish to see me? I began to drink myself into a depressed stupor, until I remembered the answering machine. The crystal full of Bacardi fell from my fingers onto the terra cotta tile as I jumped for the phone. I dialed the number, screwed it up, dialed it again, entered the pin, and… YES!!! Her voice! “Slave, knock on my door tomorrow morning, 9am sharp. We’re going to the beach.” I fucked my sheets wildly that night, then fell asleep in the wet spot. At the concierge’s desk, I stood impatiently behind a New Yorker. They’re an easy breed to spot. Much to my surprise, he asked for Lady Sarah’s room number! “I’ll announce you, sir.” That’s how the staff is at the Delano. Nice, polite, and first rate. Like they’ve got rods up their asses. “Announce me, too,” I said to the concierge, but I bore my eyes into the New Yorker. We sized each other up. Taller than me, thinner, not bad looking. His head was shaved bald, too, just like mine. I puffed out my carved chest and flexed my ripped biceps. I’m sure the same “what the fuck” thoughts swam through both of our minds. He held two wrapped gifts in his hands, plus roses. Roses? Typical New Yorker. I only had one gift, but it was bigger than both of his combined. And I had a bouquet of the most beautiful native flowers, fresh from the Everglades. The score was in and I was winning. “Gentlemen, you can both go up.” Up the elevator went, just the two of us. Silent. At the door to Lady Sarah’s room, we checked our watches and found ourselves two minutes early. So, we stood and waited. Silently. He stood taller and straighter. I puffed out my muscles. I guess his watch was faster than mine, for he knocked a full 17 seconds before I would have, then stood in the middle of the doorway, completely blocking me out. Asshole! Footsteps approached the door from inside. It was her! I knew it would be her! The locks and latches were all undone and nervous anticipation gripped my spine. The door opened and… A fag answered the door. How did I know he was a fag? Because he stood in the doorway in just a bright pink thong bikini! His bulge jutted out prominently, even though not erect. No hair on his chest and a shaved bald head. Besides, South Beach is a mecca for wild party types and many of those are gay. That’s how I knew he was a fag. What the fuck? Had Mr. New York and I both gotten the room number wrong? The fag in the bright pink thong bikini with the shaved chest and bald head spoke to the New Yorker in a British accent. “You must be Metro Slave.” Then, the fag looked past Mr. New York/Metro Slave at me. “And you must be Crayon. My name is Cunt Slut. Come in, please. Lady Sarah is expecting you both.” She must have brought one of her slaves with her from the UK! This guy Cunt Slut. So, him, the New Yorker, plus me… Wow! When Lady Sarah took time out of her busy schedule for a holiday, she did it right! Three slaves! We entered, placed the gifts on separate tables, and sat on separate chairs. “Stand up, please,” spoke the fag/Cunt Slut. We jumped up, remembering our status. Then, we waited. I looked around the room. The Delano is famous for its Minimal styling and the color white was everywhere; walls, duvets, floors, curtain, sinks, baths. Everything, except Cunt Slut’s obscene pink thong, which stood out like a black man at a cross burning. “Are they here yet, Slut?” Her voice came from deeper in the hotel suite. Another room, I figured out rapidly. Duh! “Yes, my Lady.” “Have them strip and get hard. It’s the proper way to greet a lady.” Cunt Slut looked us up and down. “You heard her. Trousers down, cocks up.” Gulp! Now, don’t get me wrong. When I fucked the sheets the night before, I fantasized about this moment: how I’d present my naked body to Lady Sarah, muscles gleaming with my cock pointing proudly at the Delano’s white ceiling. I never expected to do it in front of another man! Never mind two! But I was- am Lady Sarah’s dutiful slave. Since the very beginning, she stressed the importance of obeying her every command. I’d come way too far to back out now. Off went the clothes and it was just us three guys. Two of us naked and one in, well, by now you know what Cunt Slut was wearing. And we stood there, naked and soft, which did not concur with her instructions. A feminine voice from the bedroom. “Are they ready yet?” “Halfway there, my Lady. “It’s really very simple, gentlemen,” spoke Cunt Slut in that holier-than-thou voice that Brits have when being facetious. “One hand grabs your balls, the other strokes the shaft. Until it’s hard. Get going.” I looked down at myself before touching. Major shrinkage. I stole a glance at Metro Slave, who stood to my left. I found him stealing a glance at me. We made eye contact and he shrugged, then got to it. I followed suit. I guess Cunt Slut wasn’t a fag, for he did not watch us. Rather, he busied himself with a bottle of champagne, his back to us, and his lily-white ass divided by that little pink thing. I closed my eyes and imagined the pleasure that would follow this slight bit of uncomfortable embarrassment. The crop striking my ass. The licking of shoes and toes. Long fingernails tweaking my nipples. Sucking her strap-on. Lady Sarah’s approving smile as I obeyed her commands. I got hard in seconds. Cunt Slut’s unseen voice, calling, “They’re ready for you, My Lady.” Lady Sarah's Holiday Ch. 02 She told us it didn't matter what we wore, for we wouldn't be wearing it long. Still, I had put on a light gray suit, sans boxers, for no other reason than it would show off the bulge in my pants. An artificial bulge, as Lady Sarah had ordered we three slaves to wear wide rubber cock bands that pushed our packages out against the linen. I'd already gotten a few curious glances from the PYTs who stood as permanent fixtures in the lobby of the Delano, and I wasn't even hard yet. Most of the men scoffed, though, at the stainless steel slave collar hanging prominently around my neck. The thing screamed "SLAVE". Metro Slave stood a yard from me, though we didn't speak. Still, even a ditzy South Beach model could tell we were together from the duplicate collar around his neck, not to mention the bulge in his pants. Was he hard already? My cock stirred a second later as Lady Sarah exited the elevator in a whoosh. Every eye in the crowded lobby inspected her, from the high-heeled leather boots, the fishnet stockings, the short black dress, and the awesome cleavage, to the smile on her face. I'm sure my cock wasn't the only one stirring and I'd guess that a few of the girls might have gotten a bit of a moist twinge themselves. I love how My Lady even turns on women, just by being herself. Did I mention Lady Sarah's cleavage? Wow! There they were, freshly tanned cantaloupes pushed together and up, framed cleanly by what I now realized was a black leather dress; just another reason why I worship this fine woman. I'm definitely a breast man. Of course, I'm also a leg, hair, stomach, ass and foot man, too. Though I admire those attributes, or assets, in many women, this is the one I worship; Lady Sarah. She embraced Metro Slave first. Lady Sarah put her left arm over his shoulder and around his neck. Her lips met his and they kissed, hungrily, and her tongue penetrated his mouth. They stood there, almost melded together, enjoying the moment as dozens of curious onlookers gawked openly. Clearly, their relationship surpassed a mere friendship. If you didn't know what to look for, you'd have missed it. Her right hand never came anywhere near his neck. Rather, it swooped down and found its mark, right on Metro Slave's hard cock. Her grin signaled approval. I looked at the spectacle for a second, then at the crowd, then at Cunt Slut and his matching slave collar. Then down, at his hard cock as it threatened to break loose from his pants. We locked eyes and nodded cordially. Lady Sarah broke from Metro Slave, turned to me, and called loudly, "Crayon! How nice to see you, my pet." In a flash, she stepped to me and repeated her embrace. Arm around my neck, wet tongue in my mouth, and the hand to my groin. She missed her mark and pulled her mouth from mine. She groped again toward my cock, then plunged her hand lower, encircling my not-yet-ready member. "You're not hard." "My apologies, My Lady. I'm working on it." She smiled, kissed me quickly, then spoke softly, "I'll help." What would you expect at this point? A nice, sexy rub on my shaft, right? Yeah, you probably would, because you've never met Lady Sarah. She grabbed my balls and squeezed. Hard. Before I could yelp out in pain, her mouth smothered mine and the cry was lost. That got me hard, believe me. Of course, I'm a perverted freak and I caution you: don't let me anywhere near your wife's underwear drawer. What did all the people think of our show? Well, this is South Beach. If you don't see stuff like this on a Saturday night, you get disappointed. The four of us turned toward the lobby doors and I found myself on Lady Sarah's right, with Metro Slave on her left. As a good bye present to the throng behind us, Lady Sarah grabbed our asses. One hand on my right cheek and one hand on Metro's left cheek. And what a grab it was: it hurt! But I'm sure the people liked seeing an obviously self-assured Lady enjoy her property. Wouldn't you? The club had sent a limo for us, along with a petite Latina driver dressed as a Playboy Bunny. I loved watching her seamed stockings as she bent over to open the door for us. If I weren't such a pitiful, groveling slave, I'd have liked to bend her over the hood and stick my cock up her ass, right there on the spot. As we drove off the Delano's property, the Latina's sing-song voice came over the intercom. "Lady Sarah and slaves, we should arrive at Club Stiletto in about 45 minutes. Tonight is our annual Black and Blue Balls Ball, the biggest night of the year. Sit back, enjoy the complimentary champagne, and remember: Always obey your mistress!" We laughed, then obeyed Our Lady when she ordered us to strip. "Driver," Lady Sarah spoke before we'd left the beach. "Pull over and pop the boot." Remember, that's what they call the trunk over in Britain. Then she spoke to me. "Your cock was not hard when I found you in the lobby. You know that's inappropriate behavior for a slave." "I apologize, Lady Sarah. But, I'm hard now." "You deserve punishment." "Yes, of course, My Lady." "Beg for it." "My Lady, this slave deserves to be punished for not greeting you with a hard cock. Please, My Lady, please punish me. I beg you, Lady Sarah: cane me, whip me, crush my balls with your heels. Please." "Very well, slave. But, I have something different in mind for you." "Thank you, My Lady. Whatever pleases you." "Take this pile of clothes and place it in the boot. Now. Get out of the car naked with your silly little cock blowing in the breeze, and do it." I looked around. Traffic everywhere. Cars blocked behind us honking their horns, taxis charging past the side, and two filthy homeless people pushing a shopping cart on the sidewalk. Shit! "Now, I said." "Yes, My Lady." I bunched up the clothes into a pile, pulled on the door handle, and ran to the trunk. As my bare feet hit the pavement, I held the clothes low to cover my erection and hide at least part of my nudity. Thankfully, the limousine wasn't one of those 40-foot monsters! I dropped the load into the trunk, covered my prick with my hands, and ran back to the open door. "You forgot one of Cum Slut's boots," Lady Sarah called to me. I looked up to see the shoe come flying out the door, skid on the sidewalk, and come to rest underneath the homeless men's shopping cart. "Double shit!" I swore aloud and ran up to the two men. "Excuse me, I've got to get this thing." Then I dove down onto my knees, scraping them a bit, felt around, found leather, and pulled. I stood up, bare-ass naked in front of the two men. As they looked me up and down, I turned around and headed back toward the trunk. "Got a quarter?" I heard one of the bums ask, and they both broke out in hysterical laughter. I'm sure all of this created quite a stir in the surrounding vehicles. I just hoped there were no undercover police cars hidden in the bunch, though "under cover" sounded pretty good to me right now. That's when I heard it: a high, shrill whistle like a construction worker would make, only construction workers don't work on Saturday nights. Nope, the whistle came from an older Buick filled with twenty-something year old black girls. "Hey, come here!" one of them shouted. Then another, "Yo white boy, you need a ride? C'mon over here with us! We'll treat you good." Another, somewhat confused. "What's that shiny thing 'round yo' neck? I'll give you five bucks for it. You could buy you some pants." Laughter, from their car and other cars. I heard one last shout from the black girls before I dove through the open door of the limo. "Looks like what they say about white boys is true." Oh, the humiliation. I made up my mind in that instant that if Lady Sarah ever dumps me, I'm getting myself a black mistress. My Lady loved it. Metro Slave looked disgusted at the whole episode, but Cunt Slut seemed jealous that it wasn't him. So, what do three naked slaves and a fully clothed woman do in the back seat of a limo for 45 minutes? Anything she wants, of course, but that's a different story. Some other time I'll tell you about how each of her slaves stood up naked through the open roof while she squeezed our balls tightly. See, it was a competition. The slave who screamed the loudest as we drove up I-95 would be victorious. I won, but only because she shoved the bottle of White Star up my ass while kicking me with the toe of her boot.