0 comments/ 15211 views/ 0 favorites Meeting Master M By: sierradawne The house was located in a remote area near the lake. I walked from my car under the deep shadows of the massive oak trees, my stiletto heels clicking on the flag stone path. Stopping at the front door, I pulled the zipper down the front of my dress to the hem As directed, I wore nothing underneath. I took a deep breath, rang the bell and closed my eyes. Waiting, I began to wonder if I was at the wrong house. I imagined a housewife opening the door and a nearly naked woman on her doorstep. Finally, the door opened. Who was there? Was it Master M? I fought to keep my eyes closed. "Good girl." I was relieved to hear the deep voice of Master M. He grabbed my arm tightly and pulled me inside. My pulse pounded as the door closed behind me. With his hands on my shoulders he pushed me forward into the room. I felt my dress slide down my arms as he removed it, leaving me naked and vulnerable in the chill of the room. He took my wrist, cold steel encircle it as he tightened a handcuff around it. Taking my other wrist, he cuffed my hands in front of me. The room went completely dark as he placed a blind fold over my eyes, tying it tightly around my head. "Kneel." he commanded. I sank to the wooden floor. "Lift your hair." I fought back my fear concentrating on each sensation, trying not to think beyond this moment. A thick leather collar was buckled around my neck. I heard a metallic click at the back of my neck. "This is a locking collar, only I can take it off. Until I do, you are my property. Do you understand?" I nodded. "Answer me, cunt!" I felt his harsh words pierce through me. "Yes!" I blurted. "Yes, what?" "Yes, Master." "That's right, that is how you are to address me. Master or Sir. You speak only when you have permission or when I ask a question. You answer, 'Yes, Master', 'No, Master', and 'If it pleases you, Master'. Because you are here for my pleasure, isn't that right?" "Yes, Master." I answered. "Put your hands behind your head." Doing so, he clipped the handcuffs to the back of my collar, pinning my arms up away from my body. "Stand up." With his help I rose to my feet. He began running his hands over my body. I tensed as he sharply pinched my nipples. I felt his body behind me, I wanted to melt into his heat. He reached between my thighs, painfully squeezing the soft flesh. "Get your feet apart!" I spread my legs, as his fingers invaded my dripping cunt. He thrust his fingers inside of my pussy, working them in and out, then held his soaking fingers to my lips. "Lick them clean." His fingers entered my mouth, as I licked and sucked my own salty, sweet juices from them. He pulled them from my lips. One hand grabbed me by the throat and pulled me back against his body. He held me firmly while he forced his fingers inside my ass. My cry was caught in my throat, as he jammed his fingers inside me. He withdrew them and raised them to my lips. I resisted letting them enter. He clamped down harder on my neck. "Open your mouth." he demanded as he pushed them inside. I sucked the musky fingers until they were clean. "Good slave." he said. He then attached a leash to the front of my collar and led me out of the room, down a hallway. I struggled to keep my balance, fear rising inside me as I was led blindly through the house. He took me to a room and pushed me up against a wooden post. My felt my heart racing with fear as he unclipped my hands from the collar and fastened them high above my head. "Turn around." I pivoted to face the post, the rough wood grazing my nipples. "Put your feet back and spread them wide." I stepped back, forcing my face and breasts against the post. My ass held high, exposed for the pain that would soon come. He pushed a gag between my lips, securing it tightly. My scream was muffled by the gag, as the first strike left a searing streak of pain across my ass. I nearly lost my balance as the next blow struck in the same place. All thought vanished, as the pain took over by body. The cane struck over and over, until my back and ass felt as if they were on fire. "Turn around." I whimpered as I turned to face him. "Open your legs wide! I want to see my cunt." I spread my legs as wide as I could, thrusting my pelvis forward. Tears and sweat ran down my face. I tried to steel myself for the pain. The sound of the cane slicing through the air gave me little warning as it slashed across my breasts. My screams resumed as the slashing cane criss-crossed my breasts, stomach and thighs with hot scarlet streaks. Just when I thought that I could bare no more, he paused. I hung sobbing from the post. Suddenly I felt cold leather sting my pussy. I began to moan as he slapped my pussy harder and harder. I rode the intense waves of pain and pleasure nearly to orgasm until he stopped abruptly. "You better not cum." he said, "Not until I give you permission." He pulled the gag from my mouth, my lungs filled with fresh air, as I hung panting for more. His hand parted my pussy, and massaged my swollen clit. I fought to not give in to the powerful surge coursing through me. "You want to cum, don't you?" "If it pleases you, Master." I gasped. He buried his fingers inside me. Pushing against my tightening cunt he worked his entire hand inside. I felt completely consumed as my vagina stretched around his hand. I was aware of nothing but the intense agony and rapture as he reached inside me filling my entire being with his power. My cunt felt as if it would rip open as he began thrusting his fist. I felt like a puppet helplessly writhing and moaning under my Master control. "That's right, slave. Fuck my fist." His voice seemed to surround me. I screamed as my entire being exploded in orgasm. He pumped furiously, the power overwhelmed me. Nothing existed but the orgasmic current pulsing through me. Finally, I fell limp from exhaustion, the metal bit into my wrists as I hung from the post. My Master released my arms and I fell to my knees before him. My chest heaving, trying to catch my breath. I felt smooth skin, caressing my face. His cock stroked my cheek and lips, then grabbing my hair, he plunged his thick cock into my mouth. He forced my head down onto him until my lips were stretched around the base of his thick shaft. I could not breathe, panic began to set in. I tried to pull back, desperately struggling for air. But he held me until I surrendered. He began pumping furiously. I relaxed my throat and accepted his cock. Sucking and caressing it with my tongue, he bucked until the taste of his salty cum flooded my mouth. I struggled to gulp it down, then licked him clean. "Good girl." he said softly. "Now crawl." He guided me with the leash on my hands and knees. I stopped when I felt cold metal under my hands. I tried to comprehend what was in front of me. Leather slashed across my burning ass. "Get in there!" he commanded. I hurried forward until my head hit the metal bars. As I heard a door shut and lock, I understood that I was inside a cage. He reached in and removed my blindfold. My vision was blurred, as I looked up from the steel bars. Gradually, I was able to focus on the dark piercing eyes of my Master. "You may rest now." He said turning off the light, leaving me trapped alone in the darkness. Meeting Master, Meeting Myself Before I met Master, my life involved very few connections or interactions with other people -- I lived almost completely in my head. I attended college and earned a degree; I worked hard at my chosen profession. I made and kept a small group of very close friends. I even maintained close family ties. But my true self was kept secret -- even from the public, conscious part of myself. As I grew older, my hidden desires and yearnings revealed themselves more and more, but only in my fantasies and dreams. Although my fascination with submission increased over time, it never went beyond reading books with a D/s theme. I never believed people actually had experiences like those in the books I read, yet my subconscious mind apparently was determined to find out and, if possible, to experience submission if a Dominant could be found. While I was not aware of that determination in December 2007 and January 2008, it apparently led me to glance through Craigslist postings by men, seeking women for "casual encounters" in my area. When I found a Dominant's posting seeking submissive ladies with whom to have dinner and perhaps more, I was transfixed. It was the first time my conscious mind accepted the idea that D/s relationships existed outside of fiction. I read the posting several times before printing a copy. That night, and the next few nights, I re-read the posting just before turning out my bedside light and masturbating to orgasm. It is difficult to explain the emotional cocktail that the posting generated in me. I was excited to learn people were actually in D/s relationships, even in the "Bible belt" where I lived. I was scared knowing part of me had found an opportunity for expression, and wondering where I would end up by following that opportunity. I was anxious that my age, weight, and inexperience would cause the Dominant to reject me out of hand, but I understood very well that, if I did not at least try to explore this possibility, the pain of regret would far outweigh any disappointment and hurt I would feel if rejected. Every night, sometimes more than once each night, I imagined hearing the words I had memorized from the posting. The language was formal, free of profanity, and that raised my comfort level. I tend toward formality in all my relationships, and appreciate clear borders and expectations in my dealings with other people. The straightforward, no nonsense tone of Dominance that flowed through the posting elicited the response in me that the posting anticipated. Yes, just as the posting said, reading the words that called me to serve and submit made my cunt lubricate, my nipples tighten, and my clitoris reach out for the slap of a hand or the stroke of a flogger. Despite my visceral and overwhelming response to the posting, I did not respond to it for several days. I re-read the printed posting, but did not go back onto Craigslist for almost a week -- this was my first experience with Craigslist, and the concept that postings "expired" or were removed for whatever reasons was foreign to me. When my need to explore the reality of a lifestyle I previously had believed existed only in fantasy overwhelmed my fear of rejection and caution in dealing with a stranger, I finally tried to respond. Prepared to respond honestly and openly to the poster by expressing my submissive need for a Dominant, I accessed Craigslist, but the posting was missing. When I tried to e-mail the address on the printed posting, my message was rejected. I was desolate, but resigned -- my submissive self would continue unexpressed, a state of being the passage of years had made comfortable and secure. Even with this disappointment, it was impossible to get the genie back into the bottle. The submissive nature that had previously existed in the background refused to retreat. When I continued searching Craigslist and then found a new posting very similar in content and tone to the posting that first caught my attention, I immediately responded, referencing the first posting that had caught my eye and expressing my relief that there was a new posting to replace the first one. After a few hours of anxious checking, I received the Dominant's reply to my response. I was astounded to learn, from the response, that my assumption that both postings were made by the same Dominant was incorrect. This was merely the first lesson I was to receive from this Dominant -- through the course of my service to the Dominant, I would learn that any and all assumptions on the part of the submissive about the Dominant were inappropriate, unfounded and nearly certain to be incorrect. My relief was so great at finding a posting from a Dominant that, other than apologizing for my error in assumption, the news that the Dominant with whom I was in contact was different than the one who had posted originally did not matter to me at all. The Dominant explained that he required me to prove I was not sending a "canned" message designed to steer people to commercial websites. While I fully expected the Dominant to look at my photograph and reject me immediately, I sent the only digital photograph I had, with assurances that, although I had no experience in submission, my interest in it was completely real. At the time, I did not realize that I was already experiencing submission. Looking back, I know that the heady sensations that accompanied following the Dominant's instructions, relinquishing control of the acquaintance to the Dominant, and assuming a verbal posture that reflected my interest in subordinating myself fully to a Dominant captivated and intrigued me. Each time I checked e-mail to see if there was a message from the Dominant, my connection to the Dominant, my acceptance of my need for service and submission grew. It may seem naive or stupid that I was so entranced with a man whom I had never met, nor even spoken to by telephone, and who might, in fact, be a complete fabrication. My submissive personality was so starved for expression and validation that none of that mattered. I was surprised when the Dominant did not reject me after seeing my photograph, and I was thrilled to have a continuing opportunity to communicate with the Dominant through emails. All my e-mail to the Dominant was formal, respecting the Dominance and control the Dominant already wielded in my life. My reading had provided an understanding of the manner in which submissives properly addressed Dominants. More importantly, the submissive voice I used in communications with the Dominant felt "right" and proper. I was too caught up in the novelty and excitement of the experience to give much thought to that feeling, but now I know it was an expression of my submissive nature. My submissive nature was denied expression for so very long, but it never wavered or altered its essence. And when my submission finally was able to express itself fully, I was able to recognize the traces of it that had always been part of my personality and relationships with others. My submission had disguised itself with veils of politeness, consideration, and friendship. Many choices in the past were dictated by my submissive nature, my need to subordinate everything to my overwhelming need and desire to serve that extended even to strangers I met randomly as I went through life. Each day brought a new message from the Dominant, posing a new test or instruction to reveal more of my submissive personality. Then the Dominant proposed that we meet in a public restaurant the following week. When the Dominant made the offer to meet with me, and limited the opportunity to a single week, I was faced with the first difficult hurdle of my beginning attempts at submission. That week could not have been more difficult for me if I had deliberately scheduled things to make meeting the Dominant as difficult as possible. Before receiving the Dominant's invitation, I had scheduled the closing on the purchase of my new home, a nephew's birthday party, an author's lecture, a trip out of town for the day for a funeral, moving my personal belongings and my four dogs into my new home, working a full-time job, and assisting my elderly parents, in whose home I had been living. The week's schedule, with many pre-existing commitments, was not planned knowing the Dominant would enter my life that week. In retrospect, the hectic and challenging pace of appointments unrelated to submission or the Dominant was a good thing. I was too busy with other things to brood and worry about the possible meeting with the Dominant. I could not devote hours and hours to dwelling on my weight, my inexperience, and my anxiety about taking this first step into a new life. At that point in my life, and for years prior to that, I had a terrible tendency to brood, to pick apart plans and actions to the point of inactivity and inaction. It was typical that I would over-think choices and consequences to the exclusion of action. Monday morning of "the" week, my real estate closing went off without a hitch, but my arrival at my office was delayed, so I stayed late that evening to put in a full day. As I was driving to my parents' house around 6:00 p.m., there was nothing more pressing on my mind than the prospect of yet another mind-numbing evening in front of the TV with my parents, although I did have the comfort of knowing that I would once again have the freedom of living in my own home before the end of the week. Although the concept of having an opportunity to begin a D/s relationship was exciting and challenging, it was merely a concept at that point. There was no way for it to be real to me then, since everything to do with living submission was unknown to me. With the press of planning the activities yet to come for the week, the relief of having the real estate closing behind me, and the excitement of making a home of my own, pushing thoughts of the Dominant out of my conscious mind was easier than it ever would be again. Whilst I was making the 30-minute drive to my parents' house, I received a call. Since I was driving, I could not check the mobile phone to see who was calling, but I anticipated it to be my boss, since he called frequently. The deep, resonant male voice that responded to my "Hello" was utterly new, but its commanding tones were immediately recognized. Before the Dominant identified himself with his e-mail name, I already knew I was receiving my first telephone call from the Dominant. The Dominant's voice was entrancing to me; the voice was educated, articulate, and musical. My breathing quickened and my cunt moistened when the Dominant asked if I was available. I eagerly said, "Yes," thinking the Dominant wanted to know if I could converse freely with him. When the Dominant made it clear that what he actually was inquiring was whether I was available to meet him for dinner at a local restaurant that night, I was conflicted. As much as I longed to have the opportunity to meet this man who had already impacted my life so dramatically, and who held the promise of offering me so much more knowledge about myself, the idea of having to deal with my mother, who would deeply resent my not being home for dinner and the evening, was daunting. One of the main characteristics of my life to that point had been conflict avoidance. As a submissive, it was easy for me to give up my position or desires to accommodate others, rather than to stand up for myself and take the anger and frustration of others in stride. At that point in my life, making other people happy was more important to me than being happy. In fact, it was impossible for me to be happy, knowing that I had made someone else unhappy in order to do what I wanted. Sensing my indecision, the Dominant kindly offered to drive to the town in which I lived to meet me for dinner. The Dominant not only realized this would give me time to take care of my dogs and get to the restaurant without having to rush, but it reduced the time I would need to be away from home, making it easier for me to explain to my mother. The Dominant's consideration and my need to move into submission, made dealing with my mother's resentment a task I could manage. Although I expected the evening to be a one-off because of my weight and inexperience, but I could not forego the chance to move toward learning how to express my submission through service that would allow me to be who I truly always had been. I knew the regret of missing the opportunity to meet the man who had captivated my imagination and energy so completely by means of e-mails, sight unseen, would last far longer than my mother's displeasure at my being out for the evening. So, despite the difficulties of dealing with my mother, I agreed to have dinner with the Dominant that night. Because the Dominant was unfamiliar with my town, he asked me to suggest a restaurant, and to estimate when I could arrive. The Dominant previously expressed his preferences regarding a submissive's clothing, so I explained I would not have time to change clothes before our meeting. I always had favored red and black, which the Dominant preferred; I had dressed professionally in those colors for my real estate closing that morning. It seemed fortuitous that the red and black outfit I wore included a pleated skirt as the Dominant preferred. In hindsight, I realize I already was beginning to express my submission to the Dominant, even though we had never met, and even though I had no idea when I selected the outfit that the Dominant would see it. The Dominant graciously agreed to make allowances for my circumstances, and to meet me when and where I suggested. As I processed the reality of meeting the Dominant and dealing with my mother's objections, the Dominant added an instruction to be carried out before our meeting. The Dominant told me to pull my panties up tight into my cunt and into the crack of my ass! The standard submissive's response, "Yes, Sir," stood me in good stead at that point. I was completely taken aback, not only by the instruction itself, but by the fact that I was perfectly willing to comply with it. I now realize the Dominant gave the instruction as much as a test of my submissive nature as from any expectation that I would comply with it. Certainly, the Dominant learned more from that response than I allowed myself to appreciate and understand! When I arrived home, I took care of my four dogs. Then I explained to my mother (a prison warden in a previous life) that I had to go out to take care of an errand, and I would get dinner whilst I was out on my errand. In the face of her disapproval and recitations of why I should not follow my plan, I merely left to go to my bathroom so that I could take care of my panties as instructed. I hated the disagreement and tension, but nothing was going to prevent me from meeting the Dominant. As I left the bathroom, a glance in the mirror showed me a woman whose excitement and anticipation made her nearly unrecognizable. The flush on my cheeks, the heightened breathing, and the faintest waft of sexual arousal marked me as a submissive who had found a Dominant she could hope to serve. I had plenty of time to get to the restaurant, and I arrived well before the Dominant completed his drive of more than an hour to my town. Waiting for the Dominant was marked by a very uncharacteristic calm and acceptance that I had no control. I had done as instructed -- the unfamiliar press of my panties against my clitoris and my asshole was a constant reminder -- and I was aware and unconcerned about what would happen next, since it was not in my control. Of course I thought that the Dominant might not show up at all. I decided that I could cope with that rejection, providing yet acceptance that submission was integrating itself into my "real" life. I was beginning to relinquish a lifelong expression of a need to organize, control, and direct everything that touched my life, key to assuming a submissive posture in any area of my life. Once I made my peace with the possibility of being stood up, I waited quietly, calmly, and patiently. Although I usually required a book or other anodyne to pass time spent waiting, my time awaiting the arrival of the Dominant passed with unusual quietness, calm, and an overwhelming feeling of correctness. This persisted even though the Dominant's arrival was delayed well beyond the agreed-upon time for our meeting. As I waited, I looked out over the restaurant's parking lot. When I noticed a car pulling in past the doorway, and then reversing into a parking space, my attention was caught since cars normally just pull head-on into spaces to park. When a man, talking on a mobile telephone, got out of the car and walked toward the restaurant, I recognized the Dominant. The Dominant was not wearing the jacket he said he would wear -- instead, he wore a white tennis sweater that was much too large for his body, but the Dominant's posture -- the way in which the Dominant held himself -- made it clear to me that the Dominant with whom I was to be privileged to share a meal had arrived. I continued to sit quietly, eyes downcast, whilst the Dominant completed his telephone call. When the Dominant looked at me, the rush of sexual excitement and anticipation -- the sense of standing on the precipice between all that preceded this meeting and the entire future stretching out before me was acute. My senses went onto full alert, cataloging the smell of the Dominant's cologne, the sound of his shoes as his feet shifted, and the expression on his face. I knew without doubt that this was the Dominant I was waiting and had been waiting to meet. Everything submissive within me that had been dormant for so long surged into complete wakefulness and attention, stretching its wings after decades in the coffin-like chrysalis of convention and insecurity. After entering the restaurant and being shown to a table, the Dominant and I exchanged social pleasantries, and then opened some personal topics, including some health issues that would impact our dinner choices. Our conversation took off, making it clear that, beyond the visceral attraction of that Dominant for this submissive, this man had the additional attractions of being intelligent, quick witted, internationally traveled, and interesting on many different levels. Many topics were touched on and discussed at dinner, and the time at our table seemed very short indeed. All too quickly, dinner drew to a close; dishes were removed, and bills were requested. In the silence at our table after the server left us, the Dominant leaned over to me and quietly said, "I would like for you to go to the ladies' room, remove your panties, and bring them to me." Once again, I had not anticipated the instruction. Yet, as with the Dominant's earlier instruction about my panties, my response was immediate. I immediately left the table (leaving my purse behind in the Dominant's safe keeping), and went to the Ladies' Room. I have no recollection of the brief period from when I heard the instruction to when I returned to the table. I know that I went into a stall, removed my heels and then took off my pantyhose and panties. I folded the large, white cotton panties and put them in the pocket of my jacket. Then I put my pantyhose back on, and put my heels on before leaving the locked stall to return to the Dominant's table. I was operating on auto-pilot -- unable to deny either the Dominant's instruction or my need to comply with it. It would be easy to construct an emotional response to the instruction and my compliance with it as I look back over the months I have served the Dominant, but it would not be honest. In truth, I had no emotional response, merely an innate and irresistible impulse to do as the Dominant requested. When I returned to the table, my panties were still in my jacket pocket. The Dominant quietly asked, "Did you do as asked?" and I responded with a nod, still operating on blind instinct and trust. The Dominant explained that, despite his e-mails insisting that we each pay for our own meal to avoid any sense of entitlement or obligation, the Dominant paid for my meal, then the Dominant asked if I was ready to leave. Outside, we stood near my car, which was parked immediately in front of the restaurant's entry door, an area that was very well lit. Meeting Master, Meeting Myself The Dominant asked me to give him my panties, holding out his hand as he asked, already knowing that I would not demur. I handed the Dominant my plus-sized white cotton panties, and the Dominant asked if the crotch was wet. I quietly responded, "Yes, Sir," although he was already holding the panties at arms' length and sliding his fingers down into the crotch to test my answer. I did not understand then that one of the nuances of submission requires the submissive to verbalize and own her submission to the Dominant. I do remember that I stood proud and unconcerned about any passersby or what they might see. Even on that, my first experience of submissive expression, I already was wholly focused on the Dominant, anxious that I please him as much as my inexperience would allow. Satisfied with my truthful answer, and recognizing that we were standing next to my car, the Dominant assisted me into my car, handed me back my panties, and thanked me for the evening. Just as the Dominant walked away to return to his car, before I put the key in the ignition, I received a call on my mobile telephone. My uncle was calling to update me on the arrangements for my aunt's funeral, which I would be attending later in the week. It was the first time I had spoken with him since her death, so I kept the car parked in order to see how he was doing and to express my own feelings of loss and grief. The conversation went on for some time as we remembered my beloved aunt, his wife of over 60 years, and discussed the three-hour drive I would be making to be with him to say "Goodbye" to her. I was caught up in our conversation, so I was surprised when a tap came on the driver's window. The Dominant had delayed his departure to ensure that I was not having difficulty with my car, and I was struck, yet again, by the thoughtful courtesy the Dominant exhibited in everything he did. I explained to the Dominant that I was taking a call, but that all was well, and thanked him for his concern and, again, for dinner. After I concluded the call, and left the parking lot, I realized the Dominant had stayed in the parking lot until he saw me safely on my way home. Before returning home, I had a brief stop to complete the errand that I had used as an excuse to be out for the evening. Even though my time in the store was brief, my awareness of walking around amongst strangers without my panties on was extreme. This was the first time I had ever been out in public without wearing panties. The feeling was new and unusual to say the least. That feeling was not based in any fear that anyone in the store knew I was without panties. Rather, my knowing it was more than enough to pique my excitement and increase the flow of my sexual fluids from my cunt down to my knees, soaking through the thin fabric of my pantyhose. I do not recall making my way home. Once there, I cared for my dogs for the night, and went immediately to bed. When I was lying alone in the dark, my mind replayed the evening from beginning to end. The sexual juices that had begun filling and leaking from my cunt when I heard the Dominant's voice for the first time continued unabated, although my body began to relax for sleep. The sexual tension from spending time with someone so dynamic and exciting prompted me to masturbate to orgasm time after time that night. I woke the next morning as I fell asleep, my hand at my cunt, fingers buried between the lips and caressing my clitoris. I was more deeply at peace than ever before, having found a way in which to unite the various aspects of my personality at last. And so it was that, on a January night more than a year ago, I first met the Dominant I now serve with great pride and much happiness. My year of service to that Dominant has been replete with achievements and failures, learning and forgetting, and highs and lows. I believe the Dominant I serve, the man who accorded me the privilege and honor his collar as a Christmas gift, and now, after a year of service, permits me to call him "Master," is the One toward whom my basic, truest self, my submissive personality had pulled me, like a compass finding its true north. I believe no other Dominant could give me the guidance, instruction, and purpose my submissive self missed and craved for so long before I had the great good fortune to find the Dominant's posting and the strength to respond, setting all this new life in motion. The bedrock upon which my current existence is founded is that, by finding this Dominant who deserves and expects my best submission and service, I also have found my truest self, that from whom my lives as a professional, a creative being, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a niece, a cousin, an activist, and a friend spring. Knowing my true self illuminates those other selves, enhances them and their relationships with others, and improves all of my life in ways that I continue to discover. Gaining that knowledge through my continued service and submission to the Dominant I am fortunate and proud to serve enhances the submission I offer. Each particle of information I learn about myself expands my understanding and increases the variety and dimension of the acts of submission that I have available to offer up in service to the Dominant. As I improve my understanding of myself, I understand more about others. As I develop my skills in submission, I become a better friend and family member. My pride and self-assuredness that are enhanced by my service to the Dominant extend into my professional life and make me a better employee and a better professional in service to the firm's clients. As the cliché says, "Every day, in every way, I am getting better and better" -- as long as I have the honor and privilege of serving my Master, that is true. My submission hones my skills and improves my understanding of myself, which provides a foundation for better and more empathetic understanding of others. The gifts of submission and service are many; there are many I have yet to achieve. But the greatest of these is self-awareness and the peace of knowing and loving and even liking the self I know myself to be. Meeting Master -The Airplane This is a fantasy written by me for fun. It contains humiliation and spanking so be warned. All characters are over the age of 25. ***** I am excited, anxious, fearful, and aroused, as I sit on this airplane heading 1500 miles from home. Am I really doing this I wonder to myself? I am sitting in first class going to meet a man I have met once. I have pulled my short flirty blue sundress up in the back over my hips and am sitting on my tight blue silky thong panty. The thong barely covers my cheeks exposing most of my backside and my front is enclosed in a tiny pouch. Why? One of my Master's rituals is to have me sit on my panties wherever I am, both in public and private. More about this later as I have made a big mistake in my choice of panties. Sitting on my panty is to remind me he is in control whether he is here or not. I have agreed to meet him for one week of training. He wants to see if I will meet his high standards, and I want to see if this is what I really want. I asked the flight attendant for a blanket so I can sit on the leather seat with my skirt raised. I should have my pink rubber anal plug inserted in my bottom hole, but this did not happen. I can do it later in the airplane restroom. Again this is a major mistake. Looking back I met him in an internet chat room (where else). He seemed so calm and knowledgeable about his dominant life style. He was not pushy, but more laid back and assured. I was searching for something missing in my life. I am a marketing executive in my career; I am in charge of every aspect of my life. I am not the least bit submissive on the job or in life. However, subconsciously I was searching for someone to be in charge to dominate me in a manner I never knew existed. My name is Kathleen Johnson, everyone calls me Kat, I am 38 years old with long blond hair and a nice well-proportioned figure. I am built like a swimmer with long tanned legs, weighing 115 pounds. I am pretty and athletic. About a quarter of the way into the flight the female flight attendant slid into the empty seat next to me and in a low firm voice states: "lift your blanket I want to check your panty." I protest also in a low voice "Are you crazy you have no right to bother me and 'NO' I will not show you my panty," By now I am blushing like a neon sign. What does she know? She is gorgeous in her tight blue skirted uniform, white blouse and blue jacket. My guess is she is 25 years old, but very self-assured. She acts much older and demanding. She crossed her leg making her pencil skirt ride up her nylon covered thigh and I can see her lightly muscled calf. She looks like a gymnast. She leans closer to my ear and I smell her lightly scented perfume: "Listen Missy I am a submissive of your Master and he ordered me to see if you were following his orders," she said in a hushed but firm tone. "Follow me young lady to the front rest room. Bring your hairbrush from your backpack." I watch as she gets up from the seat and decide I better follow her orders. I lower my sundress over my hips and reach into the overhead compartment to get the hairbrush my Master gave me. I carefully hold my thin sundress down as it tends to ride up when I raise my arms. However, I see a man sitting in the aisle seat glancing at me, as he has the entire trip and I decide to flash him. I slowly lower my sandals to the floor and quickly raise my arms to get the hairbrush. As I do this quick motion my short thin blue sundress pops up showing him a quick glance of my small skimpy panty. He knows he has been caught and puts his head down. I get the hairbrush and start to turn around, when I feel a loud swat on my lower backside right near the top of my thighs. I hear Susan (The name on her name tag), "You need an old fashion spanking young lady." I hand her the solid oval shaped wooden hairbrush and watch as she taps it on her palm. I shake knowing the hairbrush stings like crazy, as I have felt the sting a few times from my Master I notice Susan's tight pencil skirt is rolled up at the waist revealing her long nylon covered legs even more so. I remember doing the exact same thing with my high school uniform. I am behind her blushing, bright red, and I feel like a chastened submissive following her Mistress. As we reach the restroom, I notice her firm rounded backside. The restroom is surprising big so we have plenty of room. She turns towards me and in a low clear voice she orders: "Present Missy." "Present" is one of my Master's submissive positions that he taught me. It means to raise my sundress high over my hips showing my panty. There is no way I am going to follow this order from a women 13 years younger than me and a complete stranger. "No way," I answer. She looks right through me with her bright blue eyes, as if to say are you disobeying me. Reaching in her pocket she takes out a note from my Master and hands it to me. I recognize his handwriting, and I feel my panty start to get damp from my thinking of his dominance. The note states I am to obey Susan Carter as if she were him, and to treat her with respect. Again she orders: "Present." "Yes Ma'am," I answer and quickly raise my blue sundress over my hips exposing my skimpy silky thong to her vision. "Since when are you allowed a big girl thong? Where is your little girl full cut cotton pink ruffled panty?" She asks? I can't believe she knows what panty I was ordered to wear by Master. "Ma'am it is in my backpack, I am going to change into it before I leave the airplane," I said head down submissively. "You know you are not allowed such a skimpy undie Young Lady," she scolds me, as if I am a child. "Yes Ma'am," I answer almost sobbing. In one fluid motion I feel her take the hairbrush out of my hand and easily pick me off of my feet. Her left foot lifts onto the toilet seat cover exposing her nylon pantyhose leg. She easily deposits me across her leg my head on one side of her leg and my legs dangling on the other side. My panty covered backside is now perched high over her leg. She lifts my sundress so that it falls covering my head and with her other hand she lowers my skimpy too small panty to my knees. I feel embarrassed and ashamed to be in this ignominious position, but once I feel the swat of the hairbrush on my bare hind end I forget my shame. I swear she is taking full swings like a tennis player each swat lands on my cheeks and sounds like a firecracker in this small enclosure. I feel stroke after stroke landing on my full rounded cheeks from the top to the soft under overhang sit spot near the thighs. She does not miss a spot including my upper thighs. By now I am kicking and crying as if I were a child. I am sure all of first class can hear my crying. It hurts so much I don't care who hears me. Finally, she stops but not before she lands three rapid strokes to my lower thighs. I am sure everyone will see my sore red blotches on my thighs. She stands me up in front of her and my sundress covers my bottom, but my panties fall to my ankles. I am now doing a funny little dance from the sting, and begin to reach down to retrieve my skimpies. "Leave them Missy," I hear her say to me. "You will walk back to your seat with your undies at your ankles." I can't believe everyone will see the evidence of my spanking, but I leave them at my ankles not wanting another tanning. Taking my ear she opens the restroom door and slowly walks me down the aisle to my seat. I am still sobbing and nearly trip on my panties as I follow her closely. I can hear everyone whispering. I hear her say quietly in my ear: "I want the backrest flat and you will lie on your tummy I want to see if you are wet." "Yes Miss Susan," I answer, as I reach my seat, and lower my seat back placing it flat so I can lie on my tummy. I climb onto the seat and lay as directed my flimsy sundress creeping up my legs. Lucky for me the plane is dark because of the hour. My bottom is bare because my panties are still resting at my ankles. Susan sits in the empty seat next to me and slowly folds my dress over my back exposing my bare bum. I am now naked from my shoulder blades to my ankles. I let out a yelp as I feel the cool air on my fanny. I also feel the sting of her palm slap my bare skin making me yelp even louder from the sting and embarrassment. She takes her thumb and forefinger and separates my buttocks cheeks exposing my rosebud to her view. "Where is your pink anal plug, Slut?" I hear her ask firmly. "In my backpack Ma'am," I answer quickly not wanting another spank. "Were you told to wear it during the flight? Master wants so stretch your tight bum hole," she says. "Yes Miss Susan, but I was going to insert it before we got off the plane," I answer. "That is unacceptable Missy!" I feel another three slaps on my thighs, which are already sore and red. "Lift up slut so I can get my palm underneath you," I raise slightly off the cool leather seat feeling her palm cup my sex spot. Her middle finger separates the soft folds of my labia and enters my wet slit. "You are very wet Missy," I hear her say. "Now hump my hand slowly." I am so aroused I begin a slow up and down hump of her hand. She moved her finger in and out slowly. The sound of my wetness is like suction cup. She withdraws her finger and slaps my vulva hard with the flat of her hand. I am so aroused I feel as though I may cum any second, but I knew that would cause me even more problems. Susan brings her hand to my mouth. I open and began to suck my juices from her finger. I began to leak all over the leather seat I am so aroused. I continued to suck her finger and hump the seat. My juices flow easily. I can't believe this is happening on an airplane. After some 5 minutes I hear her say: "I want you to sit up and pull up your sundress in the back, so you are sitting on your bare backside. No blanket Missy. Suck on this penis shaped gag for the reminder of the trip. Master said you need the practice." "Yes Ma'am," I sob and raise the backrest. I watch as she takes the gag out of her pocket and places it into my mouth. It is huge, but only about half the size of Master's cock when he is fully erect. The cock head is large and the shaft is long almost reaching my throat, but it does not have the girth of Master. "Practice sucking and slurping Master says you are not a very good cocksucker. Here is a baby bib so you do not drool on your sundress," she says, as she pins it around my neck. It is pink and has baby ducks on it embarrassing me even further. "Behave yourself or I will spank you again right here Missy, and by the way if you have to go potty make sure you signal me and I will take you," she orders. I nod my head as I cannot speak with the gag in my mouth. I begin to suck on the gag using my tongue and lips to surround it. I can feel the drool running down my chin onto the baby bib. I sleep like a baby for the next hour until Susan wakes me up. All of the passengers have left the plane including the flight crew. She orders me to stand with the penis gag in my mouth and my baby bib around my neck. The bib is totally damp. "Present Missy," she orders. I raise my sundress over my hips exposing my bare pubic area to her. She sits on the first class seat and bends down to lift my skimpy panty up my legs and over my hips pulling them tight into the crack of my backside. My backside is almost totally bare even though my panty is raised. She turns me around and has me kneel so she can place my hair in a ponytail. I notice her brown hair is also in a ponytail "Do you have to go potty Young Lady?" She asks? I shake my head yes as I cannot speak with the gag in my mouth. Susan takes my hand leading me to the same restroom that I got spanked about 2 hours ago. She lifts my skirt and pulls down my panty to my knees not allowing me to do anything. I feel like a small child as I squat over the toilet. I finish in about 30 seconds and she takes the tissue and wipes my bare pubic area and vulva lips clean from the pee. She again pulls up my skimpy panty nice and tight. We wash our hands and she takes my hand and we get my backpack, which I wear. Susan takes the cock gag and bib and places it in my backpack. I notice she has the same kind of backpack. Master gave her one as well. Susan takes my hand and leads me off of the plane. I can tell she is becoming submissive as we walk from the airplane to the main terminal to meet our Master. Master has a special place to meet us. It is located in the first class lounge, where he has left two tickets for us to enter. We receive strange looks from the attendants at the door, as they notice we are holding hands. However, we are allowed inside and head to the conference room Master has reserved. We knock on the conference room door and hear a low firm voice say "Enter." We enter and I see my Master sitting in a lounge chair. I can see that he is tall and well built, but not overly muscular. His face is strong, but peaceful and he oozes confidence. As we reach him he does not rise, but he extends his fingers and points towards the floor. He wants us both to curtsey. The last time we met he simply hugged me. My face blushes and I hesitate (another mistake), as I can see Susan start her curtsey. She curtsies in a smooth motion considering she is wearing her tight pencil uniform skirt. Up goes her skirt as she places her left leg behind her and she dips low to the ground revealing her pantyhose and pink ruffled full cut panty underneath. I begin my dip a second or so after, but not soon enough, and I see the displeasure in my Master's face. He watches as I raise my sundress high above my hips and curtsey as I have been taught. My skimpy thong panty is now fully revealed to him, which makes him stare at me in disbelief that I disobeyed his specific order. We both remain low almost kneeling, as Master flips his finger upward signaling us to rise. He still has not said a word of greeting. He snaps his finger and again points to the floor next to his lounge chair. Susan and I both understand it means to kneel next to him. I am on one side and Susan the other side. We kneel with our legs spread apart as far as out clothes allow, our heads are lowered in submission position, our arms are tucked behind our back, and our mouths are wide open. Master takes two fingers one on each hand and places them into our mouths with a nod of his head we both understand we are to suck his fingers. After a few minutes he reverses fingers and we are now sucking on the other's saliva coated finger. He allows us to suck for a few more minutes letting us slowly get into our subspace, so we understand who is in charge. Finally he speaks in a clear firm voice: "Hello sluts, clearly I have much work to do with both of you and your ability to follow orders." He takes each of our ponytails in a firm grip and one by one pulls us close to his jean covered crotch area allowing us to smell his musky male odor. "You must earn your reward." I can feel my panties get damp and the juices start to drip down my thigh from his smell. I felt his hardness through his jeans. I want nothing more than to suck his big cock and earn my reward. From the look on Susan's face she is thinking the same thing. "Stand both of you," we both stand at attention in front of him wondering what will happen. He stands in between us. He is several inches taller and well built. He is so in control it is hard to believe he is 32 years old. Suddenly he grasps both of our ears and walks us quickly to the high stools across the room facing the door. "Bend over the stool and hold on to the bottom rung of the stool. We both follow directions and lay with our bottoms facing upward. He flips my blue sundress over my head and spanks my thong covered bottom twice. I feel my thong being lowered to my ankles and my bare bum exposed. Our backpacks were removed prior to being unceremoniously marched over here. "Where is your pink ruffled panty Missy?" He asks? "In my backpack Master," I answer. He takes the tiny thong from around my ankles and goes to the spot where my head is the lowest and places the panty over my head so I can smell the juices and aroma from my thong. My nose is covered with the gusset of the panty. He walks to my backside and slowly spreads my cheeks as wide as he can with his thumb and thumb exposing my rosebud to his view. "Where is your pink anal plug Young Lady?" He asks? "It is in my backpack Master." I answer quickly knowing I am in deep trouble. He slaps my bottom cheeks three hard spanks making me jump. My backside is still red and sore from Susan spanking me. "Who spanked you Young Lady?" He asks. I answer: "Susan Sir." Where is your pink anal plug Young Lady?" He questions? "In my backpack Master," I answer. He then goes over to Susan who is draped over the stool her rounded buttock covered skirt high in the air. He slowly rolls her pencil skirt over her hips showing her pantyhose and pink ruffled panties. "Why are you wearing pantyhose Young Lady?' He questions? "Sir we must wear nylons, "she answers earning her a quick swat across both cheeks. "Missy you could have worn thigh high stockings. You are never to wear pantyhose. Is that clear?" I can see him rolling the pantyhose down and off of her legs. He places her pantyhose over her head just as he slipped my undies over my head. "Yes Sir," she answers with a muffled voice. "I see you are wearing the correct panties unlike your disobedient sub-sister," he said. "Yes Sir," she answers. "Did you spank Kathleen, Missy?" "Yes Master," she answers "Did you have permission from me?" He asks? "No Master." "Master is going to deal with both of you shorty," he states clearly. I hear my 32 year old Master making a telephone call: "Hello Emily I want to see you in the conference room immediately." Emily is Master's 46 year old neighbor, who has two twenty something year old daughters; she is the operations supervisor of the first class lounge. I hear her say over the speaker phone, that she is in the middle of an issue and would be there as soon as possible. Master says in a firm no-nonsense voice that she has 5 minutes to report and to bring the spanking strap and wooden dowel Emily knocks on the door and enters when Master gives her permission. She is nervous and in a hurry and comes to a stop two feet from Master. She is carrying the round wooden dowel and the spanking strap. "You are 10 minutes late Young Lady," he says treating her like a 7 year old in front of her Daddy. Even though he is 14 years younger than her he is clearly the dominant. Emily is a mature mother of two. She is nicely built and in good shape. She is more rounded at the hips than Susan or me, but that is expected because of her age. Her hair is a light brown and placed in a ponytail, which makes her look younger. She is wearing a pencil thin blue skirt similar to Susan, a white blouse, no jacket and white sandals with a slight heel. "Present Missy," I hear him say. "Yes Sir," she can see Susan and myself bent over the stools with our panty and pantyhose covering our heads. Emily wiggles to raise her tight skirt to above her hips and stands quietly. Covering her bottom is a white full cut cotton school girl's panty. It is not something, a 46 year old business woman, would select by herself. "Display Missy," she hesitates for a full minute until Master comes over to her and yanks her panty down unceremoniously and finds she is wearing another pair of panties underneath. It is a blue bikini. Taking both of her panties off, he pulls them over her head similar to Susan and me. He grasps her ear and marches her over to the nearest straight back chair and in one motion flips her over his lap. Taking the dowel and spanking strap from her hand he drops them on the nearest table and begins to spank her backside. Meeting Master -The Airplane "How dare you try to fool your Master, Missy, wearing two pairs of panties," he says. I can hear a loud series of skin hitting skin. Emily is being spanked as if she were a child. The loud hand slaps on her bare backside make her start to sob. She promises to behave crying with loud sobs. Her breath starts to gasp and she is now hiccupping as she swallows air. "Don't ever try to fool your Master," I hear him say as he finishes her off with three hard spanks. "Get up off my knee and follow me over to these two young ladies I am going to give you a job to do," he says as he position's Emily in front of me. "Place your thighs around her head and hold her there," he says and I can feel her strong thighs grip my panty covered head squeezing me tightly. I feel her nylons and the heat from her red backside. I cannot move. "Now lean over and spread her backside nice and wide she is going to get her bum hole caned by me. Spread her cheeks nice and wide or you will be in the same position," I hear him say. My bottom cheeks are already red and sore from the spanking by Susan. I can feel my rosebud being totally exposed and the cool air from the air conditioning flowing over my fanny cheeks. She is spreading me widely; I feel so humiliated and humbled by my position. Panties are over my head her legs have me trapped and my buttocks is high in the air. I feel my Master behind me holding something in his hand. He explains it is a wooden dowel. It is about 18 inches long piece of wood. It is smoothly rounded and I can see the shine as he passes it close to my panty covered eyes. He goes to his position facing my buttocks and in one swift blow lands the wooden dowel directly on my rosebud. It stings like a swarm of bees has stung me. "Emily you are to count the number of swats that land on her bum hole," he orders then without wasting any time he begins to cane my rosebud. I can hear Emily counting "one Sir, two Sir, as each snap of the dowel lands causing me to cry out in pain. The wooden dowel lands directly on my spread bottom hole as well as each side of spread cheeks making me cry even more. I hear him say: "I am sure she will wear the correct panties and the anal plug from now on. Now it is Susan's turn position yourself as you did for Kathleen." I watch as Emily grips Susan's head with her strong firm legs and spreads her cheeks. I am still wailing over the stool my bum hole is on fire, when I feel I dab of KY jelly and my pink anal plug being inserted. "You will wear the plug for the remainder of the day. Master then steps behind Susan and delivers the same amount of strokes to her rosebud. He scolds her about wearing pantyhose and spanking me without permission. She too is crying like a child and she too has her anal plug inserted, when she is finished being bum hole caned. "Okay both of you into the corner, he orders. Emily is going to be strapped. We both stagger up and walk slowly trying to spread our legs as wide as possible to avoid the chafing to our cheeks. Into the corner we face our skirts raised and our panties around our heads. Four cheeks are being exhibited towards our Master. I can hear Master position Emily over the stool with her panties over her head. Her bare backside positioned nice and high. Master picks up the spanking strap, which is an inch thick and two inches wide and about 24 inches long. I hear the swish of the strap flying through the air and the loud splat of it landing on Emily's bare behind. The second and third stripe follows quickly. I hear Emily screech as the sting catches up with her brain. The more Master straps the more she cries until all I hear is a continuous sob and a promise to behave. Finally the strapping stops and I hear Master tell Emily to get dressed and to go back to work and to report to him following work. Emily hurries to get dressed in her little girl panties and her blue pencil skirt and white blouse. Her makeup is smeared so she will have to fix it and I can see her walk stiff-legged out the door back to her duties. I hear Master say to us: "Sluts it's time to go fix your skirt and dress and take your panties from your heads and get dressed. Be quick!" Susan and I follow his instructions immediately lowering our skirt and sun dress removing the panties from around our face. I wear the pink ruffled panty from my backpack. Master continues: "Training starts immediately. We will be walking through the terminal. You will be walking two steps behind me, eyes lowered. You will acknowledge no one, nor will you speak unless I ask a question." 'Is that clear trainees? He asks? "Yes Master very clear," we both respond eyes downward. "Hold each other's hands and put your backpacks on your back. Out of the first class lounge we head passing Emily, who is still sniffling as she greets customers. I hear her say to one customer that it is 'just an allergy.' Master leans over to Emily and whispers into her ear. Her face turns crimson, but she comes around the counter and curtsies in front of Master, who allows her to kiss the back of his hand and nods to her saying I will see you later for training Emily. Emily is mortified to be treated in front of her clients like a submissive. Both Susan and I walk two steps behind Master totally intimidated. We both keep our heads lowered as we walk behind Master. Both of us are walking stiff-legged because of the sting in our rectum and the fullness of the anal plug. Our skirts keep riding up our legs flashing other passengers as Master is walking at a swift pace, and in order to keep up our skirts sway back and forth. We enter the elevator to the parking garage and he orders us to touch our toes, which we do with no hesitation. We are both flexible, so we easily touch our toes. Master flips our skirts over our back showing our frilly cotton panties. "I want to make sure your anal plugs are in firmly," he says as he takes his left and right hand and presses firmly on the plugs through our ruffled panties. We both wince as we feel the tightness as the plugs go deeper in our bum holes. "Good," he nods and tells us to rise as we reach the fifth floor in the elevator. As we leave the elevator I see his black Mercedes in the furthest parking spot in the corner of the parking garage. We follow behind our Master and reach the driver's side of the car. No one can see us as we stand next to the driver's front door. He orders us to Display. Susan lifts her skirts high above our hips exposing her cotton panties and quickly lowers them to her knees exposing her pubic area. I hesitate and look around making sure no one is visible causing Master to demonstrate his annoyance with me. "Display slut," he orders focusing on me. I quickly lift my sundress and lower my frilly panties, but it is too late. He takes me under his arm and begins to swat my bare bottom on each cheek over and over. My rump stings so much on top of the spankings I already received. When he stops I am bawling like a 7 year old, and he places me on my tummy across the hood of his black Mercedes my undies flopping at my knees for all to see. "Stay there Missy you will learn to follow orders no matter where we are in private or public," "Squat sub," he orders and Susan quickly squats with her back straight, hands behind her back and her mouth wide open and tongue out. Her legs are spread as wide as possible. "Watch Kathy", a name I hate as it sounds childish. "See how Susan sucks cock," He unzips his zipper on his jeans and pulls out his semi-hard cock placing it on Susan's tongue. His cock continues to grow as if on command until it is the largest cock I have seen. It is long and the girth is amazing. No doubt it will fill her mouth easily. He grasps her ponytail and leans the back of her head against the front door of the car. I watch as she opens her mouth as wide as possible to accommodate him. I can see her breathing nice and even, in and out, waiting for him to fuck her face. He moves forward between her wide-spread knees and places the tip of his cock head into her mouth. His strong thighs have pinned Susan's shoulders to the front door of the car, so she cannot move. She seals her lips around his full cock head and waits as he slowly pushes inside her mouth. Her tongue is active coating his shaft as he pushes in deeper. She begins to breathe in rhythm to his movements. The back of her head is against the front door, as he controls her movement. He takes my ponytail and growls for me to lick and suck his testicles', which are filled with his cum waiting to explode. I squat and lean forward happy to be included. I begin to slurp my tongue on both balls. I can see him move his right hand to Susan's throat. He is holding her throat gently waiting until his cock penetrates her throat. He continues to push as I see his cock sliding down her throat passage. Then he pulls out slowly allowing Susan to catch her breath waiting for the next thrust. Master does this several times until he begins to pump faster and faster. Suddenly he pulls out and squirts his cum all over my face and Susan's face. The white cum is copious covering each of our faces with white sticky sperm. We both remain squatting with Susan gasping for air. "Clean you're Master quickly," he orders. We both lean forward and lick and slurp his cock shaft getting all of the excess cum off his cock head and shaft until it is cleaned. "Leave my cum on your faces and get into the back seat," he orders. We do so quickly leaving our panties at our knees and the sperm dripping down our faces. He takes his left and right index finger and slowly places the cum on his fingers and feeds it to us a little at a time. I can hear Susan slurping and I am doing the same until his fingers are clean. He continues to clean our faces in the same manner for the next few minutes. He buckles us into the backseat and spreads our legs as wide as our panties allow. "Very good cum face," speaking to both of us. The Mercedes starts to move heading out of the garage and onto the highway. Both Susan and I begin to fall asleep until we finally stop at a gated house. This must be Master's house. It is a large three story house. We drive up the driveway and into the garage where we stop. "Sluts you will only crawl from this point forward unless I allow you to stand," says Master. "Yes Sir, we both answer. "Out and kneel mouths open wide," he orders. We both climb out of the car and kneel as ordered. He goes over the side and returns with two collars. The collar he slips around Susan's neck is made of black leather similar to a dog's collar. It has slave bells all around it, which jingle when the collar moves. He attaches a leash to the hook in front and places the leash into her mouth to hold. For me he returns with a posture collar, which covers the length of my neck in soft black leather. It does not allow me to move my neck in any direction. "Subbie you are being punished and will wear this collar for the remainder of the day," he says sternly. It also has bells and a place for my leash. He snaps the leash onto my collar and places the leash into my mouth. A snap of his fingers and we both crawl behind him following him as best we can. We enter a large room with a fireplace, plushy rugs and several lounge chairs and a sofa. The fireplace is burning making the room nice and warm. As we enter the room we see another women kneeling near the couch, she is dressed in a very short white skirt and blouse. Her black hair is in a ponytail and her head is lowered. When Master enters she prostrates herself on the floor spreading both her arms and legs. Her skirt flips up revealing a full white cotton panty. The tops of her thighs are red as if she had been strapped earlier today. Master ignores her and turns to both of us still kneeling. "Sluts stand and remove your clothing a piece at a time until you are naked. Place your clothing neatly into the two boxes at your side. The first rule you will learn is, as soon as you enter my house you will strip completely unless I tell you otherwise. You will then prostrate yourselves similar to Jessica." We follow directions stripping our clothes off and folding them neatly while placing them into the boxes. When we are completely naked we prostrate ourselves with our arms and legs wide apart. Master snaps his fingers and we follow him on our knees including Jessica.