0 comments/ 7530 views/ 0 favorites Saturday Slave By: Slave258 It is recommended that you read the story "My night as a slave" first. I am Z, X is my online fuckbuddy. We switch taking turns to dominate each other, and our favorite kink is exhibitionism. This weekend, I am in my mistress's service, and she has ordered me to write this, entirely true, account of my day so far (Saturday). I am quite sure that many more orders will follow, but I am also highly aroused after what just happened, and not allowed to cum, which may not change unless she deems this story worthy of having earned it. I just stroked my cock 10 times, my mistress ordered me to do so after every paragraph. She considers me well hung and good looking and loves to not only see me in various poses but expose me to others. My first order was waiting in my mailbox when I woke up and demanded that I write down for her, in detail, how I would wake her up. It also insisted that I not make her cum using any device we previously used, and I can only use one previously used toy or device at all. I post my reply to her verbatim: I would get out of bed while you are still asleep and head to the kitchen, as naked as I went to sleep since I do not when you are my mistress wear clothes without your permission. I would proceed there to make you a lovely breakfast with eggs, bacon, toast and fried mushrooms. I would also make you a cup of delicious coffee. I would put it all on a tray and bring it to your room and put it on the nightstand then I would kiss you awake. Also on the tray would be a collar and leash you can put on me, to keep me firmly at your side for the entire weekend, which I would not - once you put it on me, remove unless you do -even if we're in public. While you eat your breakfast I would give you a deep tissue back massage, including your buttocks, and regularly reaching round to play with your tits. Once you put the tray down, you will lie down and order me to give you an orgasm. You will hand me the hairbrush. I will slide it between your slick wet pussy lips and gently fuck you with it until it's coated with juices from head to tip, then I will look up for you and once you nod I will move it down and using the ample lube from your pussy slide it into your ass and start to fuck you anally with it. Slow first until you are enjoying it so much you are thrusting against it - when I will speed up to maximize your pleasure. While I do this I will pick up another surprize, a small riding crop - our newest toy. I will use this to stroke your clit continuously until you cum hard. When you do, I will stand on my knees before you, presenting you the crop, collar and leash. You will fit the collar around my neck, hook the leash to it, and take crop in case you feel I need punishment at any time, knowing how delicious it would be to give me a spanking using a crop still scented with your lovejuices. And that w ill just be the start of our weekend. I then decided to give her a little initiative. I have live in a second story apartment with a long balcony (about 1m X4m) overlooking a very busy road. Anybody looking up from that road (either pedestrians or drivers) can see anything on the balcony very clearly. I had on occasion been naked on it, but only at times when trafic were low and it was still scary. Now however, before dawn cars were few and far between, for the first time I walked naked to the very far end, took a picture from there and sent it to her. My mistress was very pleased with her mails when she received this and gave me reward. I was to wank of in my favorite manner, taking many pictures for her. I used a lubricant and thoroughly enjoyed stroking myself most deliciously while providing her many shots of my ever hardening cock and finally a cumshot worthy of a pornofilm. She was very pleased with the results as well and since her pleasure is all that matters, this made me very happy. She then sent me a set of standing orders for the day. I have band practice on Saturdays and I drive some of the bandmembers along. However I was to remain naked until I left for practice. Every 20 minutes I was to stroke my cock 10 times. 10 slow ones on the first one, then 10 medium strokes on the next 20 minutes, after another 20 minutes 10 fast once, repeating every hour. Whenever I was driving alone, I had to remove my cock from my pants and not cover it at all unless there were extreme circumstances (like being pulled over). I could occasionally in emergencies cover with my shirt but had to write her an e-mail each time to explain my actions. My mistress would get some well deserved rest while I performed her tasks. I kept her pattern of strokes up for well over 3 hours. As I was on a fast-stroke nearing the fourth hour, I felt so aroused after all this teasing that stopping after 10 felt impossible. I think I may yet have been able to resist, but I also knew that if I didn't my mistress would punish me. I must confess, I knew whatever punishment she cooked up would be delicious, and that was the final straw, I kept going until I came. Then I took a picture, sent it to her, confessed my mistake and admitted that I deserve severe punishment. I must admit that much as I want to please her, I didn't want to do everything perfectly, because then I wouldn't get any punishment at all, and I wanted some. I then repeated her pattern of stroking through one more hour before I had to leave to pick up my bandmates. I drove with my cock out until I was mere meters from the house where I picked up the first one. Only then did I stop to tuck it in. I did however use my shirt several times. The roads were very busy and many cars had children in them. Where the roads flowed smoothly I would check the drivers and once I verified a car had only adults would not cover myself as I passed them. When traffic was very packed and such checks were impossible however, I kept my shirt down. I know my mistress did not intend her order to lead to me exposing myself to minors after all. And now I wrote this in the story, but I hadn't yet sent her a report... I suspect she may punish me further for first reading these details here, in fact, I hope so. I was told to attempt to stroke during bandpractise if possible, but that this was not mandatory, though I tried, I did not succeed – there was just never any chance to do so without getting caught. We had an excellent practice though and my drumming was quite feverish, I suppose I felt particularly energized. So much so in fact that my shirt was sweatsoaked and I replaced it with one that doesn't reach below my beltline. After practice my bandmates asked me to get a drink with them, and this kept me out rather longer than I planned but finally around 7pm I dropped the last one at home. As soon as I was out of sight from his house, I stopped and pulled my cock out. It was dusky now, and there were fewer cars. This time I never covered – not that I could in the tiny shirt I had on anyway. I also quickly checked mail on my phone and saw my mistress's mail detailing her punishment. I read through it quick, and then drove all the way home with a raging hard-on completely uncovered. I do believe I was seen at least once or twice but in traffic I doubt if anybody could be sure what they saw. As soon as I was home, I put an example of each type of chair I had together and sent my mistress a picture to choose which I was to use to perform the punishment order she had given me. The best choice turned out to be a beanbag. Her order was this, I was to sit on a chair as close to my balcony door as I could (or on the balcony if it was not so exposed as to make the rest impossible) and then stroke and touch myself in a specific order for at least 20 minutes without being allowed to cum. The beanbag gave the best option for being on the balcony itself, so with her permission I chose that. Placed it outside the house entirely, sank down on it naked and began to follow her orders. She informed me that I was to document the entire task in photos for her, and only once she evaluated those pictures (particularly how exposed my location was) would she decided if I deserved further punishment. I took a picture to show where the chair was, then one showing me in it. First I stroked myself very slowly. I did this for about ten minutes. Then I was to pinch my nipples and play with my balls while speeding up somewhat. This felt delicious and I knew that if any driver or one of the occasional nighttime joggers who pass in the street below merely looked up they would almost certainly see exactly what I was doing. I interrupted stroking only twice, once to take a picture of me pinching my nipple and once to show my mistress how I played with my balls as per her orders. After 15 minutes I moved on to her final task, stroking myself very fast until I was on the very verge of coming but holding back and not letting myself cum since she expressly forbade it. I kept this up for a full 8 minutes, and after 23 minutes I was almost painfully close to cumming and holding back was proving very difficult. I mailed my mistress then, informing her of this and requesting either the option to await her verdict inside, or at least to stop stroking. She gave consent only to stop stroking and then ordered me to remain another five minutes outside. I sat there, my cock pointing toward the stars watching the cars drive by, looking at my clock and went inside only after the full five minutes had passed. Once I informed her of this, she told me to write this account, and that she would decide if I was worthy of an orgasm only after seeing prove that I submitted it to literotica, and sending her a copy. As I finish this paragraph I will do the final 10 strokes, and then complete the task. Saturday Slave 1 I started coming to the restaurant because of the lighting, more than the food. I was living alone, after the divorce, and it was less trouble to go out to a neighborhood place most evenings than to shop and cook and clean up for one. Over a month or two I tried everything close to the apartment, some known for their food and others for their bar scene or their unique features, but after a while I realized that what made them comfortable for me was toned down lighting, not too dark for reading or web browsing on my tablet computer but also not to bright or glaring or noisy. So, I found myself in Acacia a few nights a week, usually at the same high table in a back corner, and I got to know some of the servers and managers as they figured out that I was becoming a regular. I was the older, professional woman who often ordered the special but was quietly dressed and kept to herself, and while we often chatted a little we never became close, and they left me to my computer most of the time. My eyes often went to one of the waitresses, Diane,a small slender dark haired girl, who told me her name was Diane. Even though she dressed like the others, in dark jeans and the black shirt with the restaurant logo, I noticed her slim thighs, with the space between them, and her compact ass and firm breasts. She smiled and chatted routinely, and I smiled back, and life went on. Until the Thursday night when I came in and Diane came over to me with the menu and the list of specials, and she was smiling. As I began to look over the list, and waited for her to move on, she spoke up again. "You know, Jennifer, when you were in a few days ago, you left this behind." She held up a yellow flash drive, the kind with a green band, and I knew right away it was one of mine- but which one? She saw the confusion and then the doubt and the question in my eyes. "Yes, that one, the last one you would want anyone to see, the one with your secret life on it. Shush, quiet now, keep looking at the menu, you want to hear the rest of this." I started to speak up, and she surprised me by putting a finger on my lips. "No, not a word- 'Blue'. I found this, and when I took it home, I was just hoping for a name to see who it might belong to, maybe one of the regulars. But I was not expecting to find all those stories, and the blog you are keeping, and that collection of photos. The ones you saved from the Internet for the blog are very unusual, but the file of selfies, well that was just amazing. Who would imagine that under your insurance brokerage, professional exterior was someone like that?" "Look, Diane, I am really glad that it was you who found the flash drive, I thought I had maybe left it in a taxi or at the airport last time. You have no idea how relieved I am, you can see why, so thank you for bringing it to me!" I was smiling, reaching to take it, and trying to skate over this patch of thin ice by ignoring it. She was still smiling, holding it closer as she moved next to the table so her back was to the rest of the room, but her voice was bitter. "No, you look, Jennifer, bitch, let me be clear enough that even a stupid girl like you can get the picture. I am keeping a few copies of this drive, so I own your ass now. All of those 'ideas you were exploring' in your writing and your photos have just come true, and I will take you there just because it seems amusing to me to make you into something new. You are one of the women who think that with their college degree and expensive casual clothes and Gold Card or Platinum Card and your careful 22% tips that you are better and that you can chat over white wine about 'erotic' and 'sensual' ideas without getting down to it." Her body shielded me from view, as she put out a hand to cup my breast and squeeze it hard. "Now, you will be at my apartment Saturday 8am, dressed in your finest, and you can learn to be the server. You will sit here, and stay for dinner and coffee as you usually do. I know you like healthy things like Caesar salad and our chicken pasta dish, with a nice white wine, but from now on I will choose for you. Tonight you are having one of those sweet girly pink drinks, and a nice hearty pork chop with extra gravy. Once I start you on your new exercise plan you can work off the calories. Your life is mine now, or everything on the flash drive goes out to your contact list and the Internet." "Diane, please, how can you do this? Why do you want to ruin me?" "Because I get the same thrill from power and control that you seem to from humiliation and because I can. And by the way, from now on you are tipping every server 30% because now you know better what it is like to serve and smile." 2 It was raining on Saturday as I drove over to Diane's place, which suited my mood. I was resigned to doing this, in order to get my life back, thinking her interest would disappear and this would become a joke later which I would keep hearing about. When I found the address, I realized it was a small older house, not the apartment complex I had been expecting. I was unusually dressed up for a weekend morning, with my best pleated dark wool skirt and the bronze color silk blouse that I thought accented my brunette hair, worn with stockings and black patent heels and my best lingerie. I had a light raincoat, and didn't need my umbrella when I parked in her gravel driveway and went to the door. I looked for a bell, and then knocked. I waited, with no response, feeling more hopeful, but then knocked again. Diane opened the door with a smile, dressed in jeans and a T shirt and bare feet, and my eyes slid from here face down to her visible breasts in the thin shirt. She saw my glance, and she smiled. "Come in, Jennifer, so I can begin to figure you out. Take off the coat, and stand here, with your hands on the walls." We were in a narrow entry hall, leading back into the house, and everything was worn looking. I slipped off my coat and hung it on the wall hook next to the door as I put both arms out. I was facing into the house, with my arms out in a T, touching the cool plaster on both sides. I was a little bit taller and twice her age. She looked me over, saying nothing, and touched my shoulder length hair to play with it. I stayed still, with nothing to say really, as her hand slid down to my cheek, and my neck. She was touching my skin, and then sliding her hand onto my blouse, cupping the curve of my breast and then hefting it, feeling its weight and letting it bounce. My nipples tightened, and she laughed. She was using both hands now, exploring over my clothing to feel my hips and my ass, and the smooth stockings. She ducked under my arm, to go behind me, and I stood still as she lifted my skirt up to my waist and tucked it in, exposing my panties and the backs of my thighs in a ridiculous way. From behind me, she reached around and gripped the front of my blouse to rip it open, and I blinked as the silk ripped and the buttons went flying. She left it hanging open as she stretched my bra to pull it down over my breast and cup them with her cool hands. She pinched and rolled both nipples, but then stopped to pull my panties down quickly to my knees as she reached between my thighs and slapped my ass hard. She was cupping my sex, and laughing harder now. "You are in my home less than a minute, Jennifer, and you are already very wet. Show me what is in your mind, what you need now." She was standing behind me, with one hand between my legs and the other working my breast and I was rocking on her hand and responding, aching suddenly and trying to get past my humiliation and so close- when she stepped away and laughed, leaving me breathing hard. "It's not going to be that easy for you anymore, Jennifer. Stay as you are, don't move." She ducked under my outstretched arm again and walked down the hall, and out of sight. I stayed as I was, with my clothing disarranged. When she came back, she was smiling and handed me a paper. It was a color photo from the printer, of me here in the hall a few minutes ago; an older woman with her blouse ripped open, bra down, panties around her knees, and obviously wet and used and on edge. You couldn't see Diane, just hands using me from behind. "The webcam seems to work great, so now I truly own your ass, Jennifer, and everything else. The video plus your photos and stories would make a good set. Let me explain your new rules, listen carefully. You will come here every Saturday, at 8 in the morning and again at 8 at night, let yourself in if the door is unlocked. Take off everything here by the door, except your tallest pair of red heels, and assume this position with no discussion. I may give you things to do, or I may send you away, but twice every Saturday you will be here, in my hallway, naked and awaiting orders. I am generous, however, and to protect your identity you will have this." She handed me a mask, the kind of transparent pink plastic that only partly obscures your real face. The mouth and chin of the mask had been cut away, but it would cover my face and forehead, making me look like a plastic girls' fashion doll, with a naked older woman's body. "Okay Jennifer, try it now. Clothes off, mask on, let's go." I realized the hidden camera must be watching, as I slipped the mask on first and then removed my blouse and bra, skirt and panties, and peeled down my stockings until I was naked in my heels only. She led me down the hall, and into the kitchen. "You can start on the dishes, from breakfast and from the dinner I had with others last night, and all those pots and pans. Then after you scrub the floor you can leave, but come back at 8 this evening. You will be serving drinks to my friends, just as you are now. Later in the spring, when it gets warmer, I will have you help with the garden too." She crossed her arms, smiling, as I stood naked at her sink and began to run the hot water for the dishes. She gave me a sharp slap on the ass and laughed as she went into the other room. "I need to get used to this now, the luxury of a Saturday slave to control. We can try all those ideas you wrote about, Jennifer." 3 It was almost two hours later when I finished the dishes and the cleaning, working naked in heels, and as I went to leave Diane handed me my raincoat to wear, with my clothes and the ripped blouse stuffed into a crumpled, grease stained shopping bag. "Drive home just wearing the coat and your shoes, and think about how you have turned yourself into the girl of your own fantasies by your one mistake. Be back here at 8 tonight." I shivered with cold and fear all the way home, but then in the shower I remembered the scene and brought myself to a powerful release. I did know what I was, now. I dressed more casually when I went back for my evening shift, and her door was unlocked. I stepped into the hall, stripped everything off and hung my clothing on the peg. I heard Diane in the kitchen, so I took my position, naked in heels with my hands on the two walls. I slipped the plastic mask over my face, which she had left by the stairs, and waited. She was singing a song from the radio as she came down the hall and smiled to see me. "I realized there's one more thing you need, so I was out today and got you this." It was a gold toned chain belt from a dress shop, the kind of thing you wear to give a light knit dress some shape, with one end hanging down after it goes around the waist. I saw that she had added to the belt a tag, the kind of customized thing you find at a pet store: ' jenn/ return to Diane' with her phone number. The belt and the tag were cold against my skin. "We need to make it clear what you are, an owned slave not just a random naked woman, nice as that is." She went back to the kitchen, leaving me in position in the hall. Before I could wonder too much, the doorbell rang. Diane came down the hall and pushed me back against the wall near the door, as she opened it and greeted her friends. She brought them in, and handed me their coats; it was two other young women and one guy. "I decided I needed some household help, just ignore her. Jenn, put the coats in the bedroom upstairs then bring the wine in from the kitchen, quickly please." I took the armful of wet coats, and they were watching my naked ass as I carried them up the stairs. I found the wine and crackers on the kitchen table and arranged them on a tray, with some cheese, and took them into the living room. Everyone looked up, and I felt my nipples harden and my pussy tingle. I was the plastic-faced slave now, my golden chain and tag dangling as I leaned to serve them, with my breasts hanging. I carefully put down the tray and poured the wine. The other women looked me over, and the one young man was trying not to, and to hide his arousal. I started to move away, but Diane held onto my chain belt. "So, she's new, but what do you think? I know she is not a '10', but maybe a '7', or a '6'? She's, like, twice my age, but still in pretty good shape, I think. Nice tits, a bit of a belly, legs could be longer but nice shape, a thin ass, good lips. Since the fashion now is for shaved pussies, I am thinking I will keep her hairy, just for a contrast." As she ignored and discussed me, she touched each part of my body and pointed out the flaws and blemishes, and pushed me toward the others. They were shy at first, but soon had their hands on me too, as I said nothing and my eyes were hidden behind the mesh of the mask I wore. No one spoke to me, as they laughed and joked and pulled me closer, to make me offer my nipples to the man, who was embarrassed as he sucked on them and the girls laughed at the look on his face. Female hands turned me around and pushed me forward over the low table, spreading my legs and using my pussy and then my ass from behind and laughing as I became wet. The same hands pulled me to my feet, and I saw them put the empty wine bottle on the floor and move me closer to it. It wasn't a discussion or even an order, as they pushed me down to squat over the bottle and one of them fed the long neck of it into my wet pussy. The man had stepped away, as the women slapped me lightly until I was raising and lowering myself to take the slippery glass neck of it and work myself on it. I was still wearing the blank mask as their phone cameras captured the scene. When I was close to cumming, they pulled me off and watched as I used my hand to finish the job. One of them took my wet hand and smeared it over my nipples to coat them with my own juices. I was huddled on the floor as they gathered their things to go out. Diane turned to me from the hallway."When you clean up, Jenn, don't miss the cracker crumbs and the wine glasses here, you have made a mess of my room. Just wear your coat on the drive home, and remember: next Saturday, at 8 am, I will find things for you to do. I have just started to read all your stories, you have so many ideas we haven't even gotten to yet."