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    haven't felt fear like this in a long time - a dread of somethingthat is coming, but for which I have no frame of reference. Itreminds me of when I was a c***d and did something wrong. I knewthen that I would be punished - but I had no idea what form thepunishment would take.Today, I know I'll be punished, too. I know it because it ispart of what today is all about. But I have almost no idea whatthe punishment will be. Or even what I will be punished for.Perhaps I should start at the beginning...Several weeks ago, I broke up with my latest boyfriend. Itwasn't because he wasn't handsome and successful (he was a tall,blond, WASP stockbroker who made well into six figures) orattentive (he brought me flowers, remembered birthdays andanniversaries, and shared the domestic drudgery) or fun (we hadsimilar tastes in sports, movies and other things - and the moneyand time to enjoy them). The whole problem, in fact, had NOTHINGto do with him. It was me. I was bored to death with my sex life.I've never had difficulty finding partners, as long as I havebeen willing, in a crunch, to settle for someone shorter than me. I'm 5'9. I weigh 141 pounds, have dark brownhair down to my shoulders, and hazel eyes that seem to attract asmuch attention as the rest of me. At 38B,26,37 I'm a little toobig to model - but I did manage to do a little commercial work whenI was in college. That was twelve years ago.What faced me when I kicked Roger out was that I had never hada sexual partner who really excited me. He was as good, stable andstrong in bed as he was out of it, but he didn't do any more forme than any other guy had. Not that I'm gay - my one (relativelyrecent) fling with an old college roommate said more about the factthat I wanted a change than it did about a lesbian bent. I've hadno difficulty climaxing with the men I've been with, and I'vesampled quite a few. But somehow they never seemed to treat me theway I wanted to be treated, and I never seemed to know what to askfor - so it was just more of the same, over and over.One afternoon soon after my breakup with Roger, my girlfriendPaula and I contacted a bulletin board on her personal computer. k**ding around, we started chatting with a guy called Fred who hada good sense of humor and was quite sexy. He wanted to engage inwhat he called "computer sex" - sharing fantasies over thecomputer. For some reason or other, it turned both of us on - Iwas really hot instantly. I didn't want to admit it, for somereason, but this seemed to be what was missing, after all thistime. We started into it, and I took the lead. I did the typing,came up with most of the wild ideas, and soon we had the guyadmitting that he was playing with himself as he read. Meanwhile,so were we! I had my skirt hiked up over my thighs and my hand upunder my panties whenever it wasn't occupied on the keyboard. Paula was doing the same thing with her left hand - and soon herright was stroking the inside of MY thigh!That really turned me on, but it also frightened me. I hadnever made it with another woman - and Paula and I were bestfriends. I was embarrassed to be feeling what I felt, and pushedher hand away. She was a persistent little dickens, though, andas soon as my hands went back to the keyboard, she went back to herassault on my thighs. Finally, I gave up and let her do what shewanted - which was first to lower my panties and play with mypussy, and later to kneel between my knees while I typed andslowly, expertly lick me to several climaxes!The excitement I had that afternoon was greater than all theloving I'd had in the last couple of years. And I didn't onlyreceive attention. After she had thoroughly wrung me out, she satin my place at the terminal and continued our "correspondence". I knelt in front of her and slowly, tentatively began to play withher pussy. It was definitely NOT the same as playing with mine! It turned me on even more than if I had my own hand buried betweenmy legs. As I knelt there with two fingers playing with herclitoris, the aroma of her reached me and I almost fainted. Hardlybelieving I was doing it, I raised my hand, covered with the juicefrom her pussy, to my nose. The smell was stronger and even sexierthan before. I couldn't stop my tongue from licking my fingers. The taste was musky and a little bit metallic - but definitely NOTunpleasant. I bent my head and began to lick. She moaned and sliddown in the chair, her heavily-lidded eyes watching as my tonguetraced the shape of her outer lips. As I stuck my tongue furtherout and up into her pussy, she began to press herself against mymouth and my face, covering my chin, lips and nose in her juices. I found her sweet clit with my tongue and began to lick - just asshe had been licking me a few minutes before. In no time at all,she exploded. That was the beginning of a whole new life for me.Not that Paula and I began to sleep together regularly. Farfrom it! We have been friends so long that neither of us knowswhat to do with this new way of relating. Besides, we both LOVEmen, and want regular relationships, so it's only happened oncemore in the last four weeks. But my imagination has been awakened.I was never much interested in fantasy. I thought that it wasmuch better to be a doer than a dreamer. Well, that may still betrue, but I've found that dreaming can be better than much of thedoing I've had in the past. I began to tell myself stories - firstabout Paula and me, then about the two of us and a man (usually oneof my old boyfriends). The stories were most frequent at bedtime,and resulted in my masturbating nearly every night. Then, more andmore, the story was just about me and a man - but in a way that Ihad never been with a man.I contacted more bulletin boards, during this time, and beganto chat with men by electronic mail about different types of sex. The beauty of it was that I was able to delve into many types ofsex which, normally, I would have been afraid to talk about. Many of the new things interested me not at all. I had nodesire to wear high leather boots and tan a man's ass with a ridingcrop. And as for the women, I doubted that anyone would turn meon more than Paula did - and I KNEW her and CARED about her, so whylook for someone else?But over and over, I got little peeks at the world ofdomination of the female by the male, and that began to prey on mymind. I spoke to a woman on a board up in Westchester who was a"slave" (her word!) to a man she called "My Master". When I firstheard those terms, I didn't like the idea at all. I had nointention of giving up my independence and my freedom to a man Ididn't even know! She praised the life she led - told me it wasthe most exciting and joyful she had ever been. I couldn't believeher.But then, I met another woman on a local board in New YorkCity who was delighted to be completely controlled by her lover -not only ordered around, but forced to wear very revealing outfitsand fetish clothes and to play with herself (and with him!) at hisorder and under his direction. As I spoke with her, I found myselfgetting strangely excited.I began to see that one of the problems with being a very talland good-looking woman is that men tend to be a little lessdemanding of one. They're a little in awe, I guess, at their luckin attracting such a woman - or they want to make damn sure not tolose her, so they give in more to her desires. The problem withthat, I realized (now that I began to tell the truth to myself) wasthat I wanted to be told what to do - particularly sexually.The more I spoke to these two, the more I envied what theyhad. I wanted to serve a man. I wanted to see what it was liketo do exactly what my lover (my master?) wanted - to be treatedlike a toy made expressly for his pleasure. As I told the truthto myself, I began to be more comfortable telling it over thecomputer lines.Within a couple of days, I had met a man called Richard. Iwas introduced to him by a woman whose name was Janice. The twoof them had an on-going relationship in which he was the dominantpartner and she the submissive one. As Richard and I explored mydesires on the BBS, I began to see that there were certain thingsthat particularly turned me on - and Richard seemed to be theperfect match for me there.I wanted to be dressed very sexily for a man. I had alwaysworn sexy, feminine underwear, but now I wanted to be introducedto the kind of clothing I would have scorned a few weeks earlier. I wanted to wear things that were designed to display me - thatwere there specifically to turn a man on. I wanted to becontrolled, to be psychologically humiliated, in a sense. And Iwanted to perform oral sex for hours.Of course, oral sex wasn't new to me. The men I had datedloved it when I ate them, but I had to admit that I had nevergotten as deeply into it, in reality, as I now did in fantasy. Theproblem was that, to me, sucking a man's cock was a very submissiveposition to be in, and I had not attracted the kind of men whowould take full advantage of that position in the past. The reasonprobably was that they weren't, themselves, very dominant.As Richard and I got into more and more detailed fantasies,I found myself spending half the evening every night playing withmyself in front of my new computer. More and more, I wouldfantasize during the day about the fantasies to come that evening- and the fact that I'd be able to raise my skirt (or take it offentirely) and masturbate to my heart's content.Finally, Richard suggested meeting in person. We had lunchat a small restaurant in Manhattan. He was attractive, about 40years old, 6'3" tall, with graying temples and VERY sophisticated. He was trim and obviously exercised regularly to keep himself thatway. I was immediately interested and turned on. After talkingover lunch, it just got better. We discussed the sort of thingswe both liked (keeping our voices down so we wouldn't shock theneighbors) and came to an agreement about the ground rules forour first "session", as Richard called it.Since he wasn't married, he suggested that I meet him at hisapartment. I was to leave information with someone about where Iwould be, so that I wouldn't be concerned about my safety. Hedidn't want me to be distracted from my full enjoyment of what wasto take place. He explained that he wasn't really into heavy pain- but got more enjoyment from the psychological sort of controlthat I had been fantasizing about. He told me that he would expectme to arrive at 6 o'clock on Friday evening - punctually, sincetardiness would be punished. He informed me that he already hadmost of the equipment we might want, but that he wanted to take meshopping after lunch.So, when lunch was over, he accompanied me to a small boutiquein the Village which specialized in sexy and sensual underwear andlengerie. He was not in the least bit embarrassed, as most men mightbe, but went through the racks carefully, looking for what hewanted. He finally settled on two very sexy corsets. The firstwas white satin with pink lace detail. It was only half-cup, soit supported and presented the breasts, rather than covering them,leaving the entire top half of the breasts and the nipplescompletely exposed. The pink lace framed the breasts and the loweredge, ran down the front in sexy, pretty strips and covered eachof the detachable garters. The second was the same design, butmade entirely out of black lace - as sexy a thing as I had everseen. Both corsets came with matching g-string panties. He thenfound very sheer, seamed stockings in black and white, shoulder-length gloves in white satin and black lace and a long white hairribbon. He paid for everything, gave me one bag containing thewhite outfit, and he carried the one with the black."When you come to my apartment on Friday, I will expect youto be wearing the corset, stockings and panties. Over that, I wantyou to wear something white that is very feminine and also VERYsexy. Between now and then, you will buy two pairs of shoes - onewhite and one black. They should both have very high heels - atleast three and one-half inches, but the higher, the better. Iprefer slingbacks, or something that has a sexy bow in the back. Sandals are not acceptable. You will carry a bag which containsthe white satin gloves, your black shoes, your makeup, yourtoothbrush and your house keys. You may bring a $10 bill for thecab fare back home. That is all - absolutely NOTHING else. Do youunderstand?"I agreed to do as he asked, and he spun on his heel and walkedaway without saying goodbye. I was left standing there, in themiddle of Bleeker St., feeling annoyed, excited and scared - allat once.Yesterday, I went shopping and found exactly what he wantedfor shoes. I got a pair of white calf pumps with four inch heels. At the back, above the heel, was a white leather bow. I had neverworn anything so high, and the little bow seemed to scream "Fuckme!". But the black ones are worse. The heels must be almost fiveinches. They are black calf, highly polished. Each side is madeout of five very slim black leather laces that come up out of thesole of the shoe, are gathered together and become one at the backof the heel, where they tie in a VERY sexy bow. I was embarrassedto even try them on in the store - I was SURE everyone would knowwhat I wanted them for. But I did it, and it made me even moreexcited! Both pairs are perfect!I couldn't find the right dress to wear over there untiltoday. In a store I would NEVER have thought to look in down nearWall St., which seemed to cater to the secretaries from Brooklynand Queens, I found a white satin dress with a tight, low-cutbodice and very full, puffy sleeves down to the elbow. The skirtflared WAY out, and hung only to about four inches above my knees. I got a very, very full white lace crinoline to wear under it, andit held the skirt out perfectly. When I got it home, and tried iton again, it was even sexier than I had thought in the store.I had to take today off from work. I was so excited and crazythat I knew I'd never be able to concentrate on anything, anyway. I spent some time on the computer talking to some of the BBS', thentook a llloooong bath with perfumed oil in the afternoon, shavedmy legs and underarms, toweled dry and powdered myself. I tooka long time over my makeup, getting everything perfect. Richardhad said nothing about my hair, but had left me the ribbon. So Iwore my hair up with the ribbon holding it off my face. Then, Iwent into the bedroom to dress.As I put on the corset, I realized how small it was! It heldmy waist in very tightly, which emphasized my breasts, hips andbuttocks. I drew the long, sexy stockings up my legs and attachedthem to the garters, and pulled on the g-string, which served onlyto cover up most of my pubic hair in front. In back, my ass wasstill completely bare. I stepped into the crinoline and drew itup to my waist, then put on the dress and zipped it up. The brawas doing its job, all right - most of the upper half of my breastswere exposed above the deep neckline of the dress. My nipples WEREcovered - but just barely! I put on the shoes, and walked over tomy full-length mirror to check out the full effect of the outfit."God, I can't go out like THAT!" was the first thing that cameto my mind. The sexy, feminine dress with its view of my breasts,combined with the "Fuck me!" pumps and the tiny waist (courtesy ofthe corset) was just too much - added as it was to my normal dark,somewhat sultry look and my six-foot height, it was like carryinga neon sign advertising sex.I HAD to go out, though. It was the only way to take thefirst step toward my new adventure. So I did the only thing Icould think of - I called a car service and spent $35 on a limo totake me the fifteen blocks to Richard's house.So, here I am, standing out on West 10th Street, EARLY for theappointment. I'm too nervous to knock on the door - I assume thatI am to be ON TIME, not early. But the looks of the men passingby are becoming a little unnerving. It's almost six o'clock. Ican't wait!Finally, six o'clock came. Punctually on time, I stood at Richard's front door and rang the bell. The door was opened immediately, and I saw Richard standing in a long hallway, wearingan impeccable Italian-cut suit. His shoes gleamed and his tie wassuch luxurious silk, I could almost feel it with my eyes. The expression on his face, though, wasn't happy. "Come in," he said curtly, then stepped aside for me to comply. He motioned me to enter a living room that was just offthe hallway. I entered and stood in the center of a beautiful room, as he closed the door, then turned to face me. "You are almost two minutes late!" he growled at me, glowering. "Is this the way you begin your service with me?" I quickly showed him my watch and explained that I had actually gotten there early, but he brushed aside my explanations. "You should have thought to ask me what time it was by my watch when we made the agreement to meet at six o'clock. That isthe most basic agreement - one of time - and one of the most important. If you can't keep that, how can I rely on you to do anything right?" I was devastated! I had been standing on the sidewalk, nervously trying not to meet the eyes of the men who had been staring at my clothing, at the swell of my breasts over the low-cutneckline of the dress. I had ignored the whistles, the "Hey, Baby!"'s and the gestures. I had swallowed my embarrassment - feeling overdressed for the hour, on a summer evening, and uncomfortable to be just standing and waiting. All of this I hadput up with so I would make a good impression on Richard - and nowI was late! "Perhaps we should forget this - or at least put it off foranother day," he said. I immediately cried out, saying I had solooked forward to this meeting, and begging him not to put it off!"I will be punctual in the future, I promise!", I said. "Please don't send me away, now! I've gone to such pains to getthings I thought you would like, and...." "And that is no more than I would expect you to do, Michelle! That is your job, your part of this relationship. Mine is to evaluate how well you have done what you were supposed to do, andto help you to explore frontiers you have not had the courage toapproach before. Alright - I'll let this one infraction pass. Butin the future, I will expect you to pay far more attention todetails. Is that understood?" I nodded my head, my heart beating wildly in reaction to mymomentary fear that my fantasies would not be explored. "Good. Now, empty out your bag on the table, there, so I cansee what you've brought." I did as he asked, and was pleased when he complimented me onfollowing those orders properly, at least. He also complimentedme on my choice for the black shoes - and said he found them sexy,which thrilled me! "Now, put everything back in the bag. I'm going to take youupstairs, now, and show you a few of the other rooms of the house. By the way, remember that you are to go only where you are told to,and only with me accompanying you (unless I tell you differently)while you are here. Some of the rooms are off-limits to you, sofollow my instructions carefully. Understand?" "Yes, I understand, Richard," I said, as I began to follow himout into the hallway. He turned and looked at me, and said:"That is something else we'd better get out of the way, now. From now on, unless I tell you otherwise, you will address me as"Master". When you are spoken to, you will immediately lower your eyes to the level of my crotch, where they will remain untilany conversation is finished. Is that understood, also?" "Yes...master," I stammered. This had been something we haddiscussed in principle, but no specific rule had been set until now. "And, again unless I expressly give you permission, you willspeak only when spoken to. You will NEVER initiate a conversation,ask for a further explanation of an order, or open your mouth unless you are spoken to first! Understand?" "Yes, Master. I understand." He led me up the staircase to the second floor. Toward theback of the building, straight ahead from the staircase, was a door, which led to a very beautiful bedroom. There was a queen-sized, white enameled, old-fashioned bed, with a beautifulpink coverlet trimmed in white lace. A dressing table on the sidewall was covered in a matching pink cloth, on which were a hairbrush and mirror made from tortoise-shell. Next to the dressingtable was a door that led into a private bath. On the back wallwere four large windows, now covered with drawn shades, and on theleft side wall was a door that seemed to lead to a closet. "This will be your bedroom for the weekend, Michelle. You mayput your bag on the bed, for now, and follow me." After putting down the bag, I followed him out to the secondfloor landing. He led me up to the third floor. As I climbed thesteps, I marveled at the value of the home we were in! Richardwas rich - no doubt about that! A three-story brownstone here inthe Village would sell, I was sure, for more than a million dollars- although how much more, I had no idea. On the third floor, directly over my room, was a bedroom clearly furnished for a man. It had two deep arm chairs, a large, king-sized bed, and the colorswere all burgundy, brown and black. It was a "handsome" room, Ithought - where mine had been pretty and feminine. It seemed thatRichard believed in some of the old-fashioned sexual stereotypes- which was in keeping with some of the things we had spoken abouttogether. Richard threw himself down on the bed, propped his head up onhis right hand and said, "Stand over there in the middle of the floor, where I can get a good look at you." I did as he asked, my hands down at my sides, my heart, strangely, beating nervously. Perhaps it was the tone in his voice, which was almost flat, with no emotion. "Now raise your skirt and your petticoat above your waist."I was shocked - although I suppose I shouldn't have been. Iguess I just expected to work up to the sexual part of things - notjust jump in with both feet! I reached down and gathered the fullsatin skirt and its supporting crinoline in both hands and raisedthem above my waist, as he had ordered. They became a doublearmful in front of my breasts, as I stood there feeling how naked I was below the waist. "Turn around, slowly, so I can see what you look like," he said. I turned to my right, slowly, presenting more and more of mybody to his eyes. When my back was completely to him, I shivered,remembering how naked my ass was with just the string of the pantierunning up between my buttocks. When I had made a complete revolution, he said: "Now, pull off that foolish g-string. It doesn't cover youat all - it just serves to give you a sense of being covered. It'sonly a psychological defense against your nakedness." How right he was! As I removed the g-string, I realized howmuch comfort I had been deriving from that tiny scrap of cloth. Without it, I felt completely naked! He continued to scrutinize me - examining me carefully, butstill from a distance. I stood, still holding the g-string withmy left hand as I struggled to keep the skirt and crinoline heldup with my arms."Those stockings fit you well. That's unusual for a woman your height - they usually stop all too short, down near the knees,someplace. I want you to remember to write down the brand name when you get back to your room. There is a pen and writing paperin the dressing table drawer." His statement didn't seem to require a response - but I wasunsure whether to answer "Yes, Master," or to stand there silently.I decided that he would know that I had heard, and elected to remain silent. "When I give you a command, like that, you will acknowledgeit by answering "Yes, Master". Is that understood?" Wrong again! I felt stupid and embarrassed as I answered,"Yes, Master." "Come stand over here, in front of me," he commanded. Iwalked nervously over to the bed, stopping right next to it, on alevel with his head. I could no longer see his face, because ofthe mass of petticoat I was holding, but knew he was lookingdirectly at my pubic area. I began to blush, embarrassed at beingso carefully studied."Give me the g-string," he said, and I clumsily passed it tohim while holding the mass of nylon in place in front of me."Your pussy has wet these panties. Did you know that?"I blushed furiously. "No, M-m-master," I stuttered. I hadbeen continuously excited since my bath, over two hours ago. Iwasn't surprised that the g-string had absorbed some of themoisture, but I was very uncomfortable to have him speak so matter-of-factly about it. The blush on my face flowed down into my lowerbody, though, as I felt his fingers gently but firmly pressing thelips of my pussy apart. My knees began to shake, and I must havebeen quivering like a sapling all over, because he snapped:"Come, now, stand up straight and stop shaking! I'm onlyexamining you! This is something that you'll come to find a commonoccurrence when you're with me in private - if I choose to have itbe so. Am I hurting you or in any other way being inconsiderate?"Inconsiderate! How could he even use that term when he hadhis index and middle fingers up inside my pussy? He treated whathe was doing as commonplace, his right - whereas I had had men inthe past chasing me for weeks, praying for a chance to do the samething!"No, Master, you're not hurting me," I responded, trying tocontrol the shaking in my legs (with very little success). I felthis fingers slowly retreat, and he told me to turn around and bendover.I turned my back to him and bent over slightly, frightened toallow myself to be vulnerable in this way. He spanked me sharply,once, on my naked right buttock."Bend over, I said! Surely you've got more flexibility inthat lovely body than that? Now bend over so that I can see yourass clearly!"I bent deeply from the waist, my forehead nearly touching myknees. As I remained in that uncomfortable and embarrassingposition, I felt his hand gently stroking my buttocks, then hisfingers spreading them apart. Whether it was the juice from mypussy, or some other lubricant, one of his fingers was wet andslippery enough to slowly press its way into my asshole. I was nowthoroughly mortified! No one had ever treated me anywhere nearlike this in my life!"Your ass is quite tight, Michelle. How many times have youbeen fucked in there?""Never, Master! I have never done that!" I said, shocked atthe idea. I had once or twice had a man stick a finger in my ass,but had turned down everyone who had suggested anal sex. I didn'tlike the idea - it sounded too painful."Do you put fingers or toys in there when you masturbate?" heasked, punctuating the "in there" with a few rapid back-and-forthmovements of his finger in my anus."No, Master, I haven't," I answered truthfully. The feel ofthat one finger was enough to make my legs start to shake again andmy face felt that it was beet red - but my pussy was beginning toache with a deep sexual itch, and I could tell that I was soakingwet down there!He withdrew his finger and had me turn around to face him,again. I still had the skirt and crinoline gathered in my arms,and I felt foolish as I turned to face him. I peeked at his face,when I got the chance, and saw that it was quite relaxed - not asmile, nor a sign that he was in any way excited! I was shocked! How could what he had just done not have effected him? He lookedas if a thought had just struck him, and his eyes turned up towardmy face. I hurriedly looked toward his crotch, as I had beeninstructed to do."By the way, Michelle, your pussy hair is flattened down -probably from the g-string and sitting down in the car on the wayhere. I like nice, bushy hair on a pussy. Not lots of it - Iprefer it to be neat, like yours - but bushy. On our way backdownstairs, I want you to go into your bathroom, where you'll finda small hairbrush. Brush your pubic hair to make it bush out morefor me. Do you understand?""Yes, Master.""And don't make the mistake of taking that opportunity to goto the bathroom. Bathroom visits will be strictly monitored here. I will tell you when and where you may relieve yourself. Don'tworry, I won't forget about you - any more than I forget abouttaking the dog for a walk!"As he smiled at me, I felt that in a way that's what I was: just another pet to him. I wasn't sure how I felt about all this. I had wanted to explore submissiveness, but had expected it to turnthe man on a lot. I still expected, I guess, the kind of controlthat a woman frequently has simply from turning the male on. Forhim to be calm and cool like this didn't jibe with my previousexperience. I couldn't predict, based on that experience, what hewould do.As Richard led me downstairs from his bedroom, I was stillkind of dully excited. It's the sort of thing that happens to meoccasionally when I get sexually excited up to a point - but haveno climax. My pussy is tender, kind of itchy/achy deep inside theflesh of the lips. My clitoris is swollen and I feel little shocksof pleasure when I walk. I was still very wet - he had given meno opportunity to wipe myself off or anything - and I was intenselyconscious of that, since I would never just walk around like that.As we passed my bedroom, he told me he would meet medownstairs in the living room. I went in, found the paper and penin the dressing table, where he said it would be, and wrote downthe name of the stockings as I had been instructed. Then I wentinto the bathroom to "brush my hair".The hairbrush he had spoken of was on a counter to the rightof the sink. As I picked it up, I saw that it was round, withbristles all around. It had a small head - almost like a c***d'sbrush, I thought. I raised my skirt and petticoat up with my lefthand and, looking in the mirror to see what I was doing, I beganto brush my pubic hair.I had never done this before, and I was surprised at how goodit felt. Of course, I was so excited that any attention paid tothe area around my pussy was going to be pleasurable. But this wasrelaxingly exciting. It kept the thrills of electricity jumpingthrough the lips of my pussy and each tiny tug pulling on the lipsmade my clit throb. I could have gotten lost in the feeling - butI knew without his having told me that Richard expected me to dowhat I had been told and get downstairs immediately. So Iconcentrated on brushing and sort of twisting the handle of thebrush as I stroked, which made my pubic hair fluff out the wayRichard wanted it. There was something very strange about stylingmy pubic hair for a man I had only met once before and with whomI had not even gone to bed yet - but it was exciting and kind ofnasty, which was exactly what I wanted!I finished and smoothed the dress and crinoline back intoplace. I was happy to see that, even though Richard had made mestand with the skirt bunched up over my waist for quite a while,it still looked unwrinkled and presentable. I wanted to look goodfor him - particularly for this first meeting.As I entered the living room, I saw that Richard was sittingin an easy chair, sipping a glass of champagne. I walked overtoward his chair, but didn't get too close. I was unsure what hewanted of me, and preferred to be safe rather than sorry."Come over here in front of me and lift your skirt so I cansee how you look," Richard ordered.I stopped about 3 feet in front of him and lifted the skirt. He sat there for a moment studying me, then nodded and told me tolet my skirt down."That's good, Michelle," he said. "From now on, when you'rewith me, you'll pay particular attention to your pussy hair for me.I want you to brush it often, like that. I like it to be brushed,on either side, away from the lips, so they are clearly visible. You have thick, luxuriant hair there. While it's attractive, wedon't want it to cover up those lips." He smiled at me. "When youshower, I will expect you to use shampoo and conditioner on it, asyou would the hair on your head. Since it pleases me to see yourpussy hair looking good, it will please you to make sure that itdoes. Understood?""Yes, Master," I replied, my eyes directed toward his crotch,as I had been ordered to do earlier. For the first time, I thoughtthat I detected more there than usual. It looked like he had a bitof a hard-on! Thank God!! Maybe I was finally turning him on!"We have reservations this evening at a restaurant down inTriBeCa called "211". Are you all ready to go out?""Yes, Master," I responded. I was becoming very careful. Iwould have liked to say that I was ready, unless he wanted me todress differently, or anything. I would not, by myself or withothers, have gone to TriBeCa wearing what I was wearing. It wasthe artists' section of New York, and everyone down there,practically, wore black cotton everything in the summer. But Iknew that to do more than simply reply would be to incur his anger."Good! I have a small evening bag here for you to carry. Ithas everything in it that you might need. No need to open it andlook - just take it with you.""Yes, Master," I meekly replied - but I was immediatelysuspicious. Why didn't he want me to look into the bag?I followed him out the front door and stood on the landingwhile he locked the door and set the alarm. It was a beautifullate summer evening - warm enough to be comfortable wearing verylittle, but not hot enough for me to be uncomfortable with thepetticoat and stockings I was wearing.We walked out to the sidewalk and toward Seventh Avenue tolook for a cab. He took my arm, and to everyone who passed us wemust have looked like two "normal" lovers. I felt relaxed andcomfortable with him - but I couldn't escape the novel feeling ofmy naked pussy under my dress, and the coolness as the breezeoccasionally found the small drops of moisture that coated theouter part of the lips.After a short ride down to the lower part of Manhattan, wedrew up in front of a really lovely restaurant set in the streetfloor of a manufacturing and warehouse building. Out front werea number of tables. One, it turned out, had been reserved for us-a table for four with two chairs on adjoining sides, just to theleft of the front door.I sat down in the chair closest to the street. The platformthe tables were on was elevated about four feet above street level,so we had a great view of the passing parade of pedestrians. Richard sat on my left. He ordered champagne for himself andseltzer water for me (since I don't drink) and settled back,getting comfortable. It was obvious that all the waiters andwaitresses knew him and deferred to him as one would to a favoredcustomer.As we reviewed the menu, Richard told me to relax and talk"normally" to him. He would not, at this stage in ourrelationship, force me to call him "Master" in public, he said. Although it was nice to relax and enjoy the evening, there was acertain "edge" that I had already begun to enjoy in our roles ofmaster/slave that I sort of missed.Dinner was delicious. After salad and the main course, weboth elected only coffee for desert. I was full - and some of theexcitement, which had subsided while we ate our meal and talkedquietly, was coming back. I had butterflies in my stomach,remembering the purpose of the weekend, and assuming that we wouldget back to that purpose when we got back to the apartment.As we sipped our coffee, I felt Richard's hand on the insideof my left thigh. The skirt was short and rode up quite a ways asI sat - so my legs were almost completely bare under thetablecloth. No one could see as he stroked and caressed me -within a few feet of other diners and right above the heads of thepedestrians. I sat, not moving, as his hand went higher andhigher, above the top of my stocking. He stroked the sensitiveskin of my groin, between my thighs and my pussy, with just thetips of his fingers. In fact, his hand flitted here and there allaround my pussy and my clit -but never touched either. I waschurning with excitement, and my lips were wet, again, from it. I wanted him to touch me there so badly - but I could only sitthere casually chatting with him, putting on a front for the otherdiners.When I thought I couldn't take it any more, he suddenlystopped teasing me. His hand rose from my legs and, grasping myleft hand, drew it under the tablecloth and down to his lap. Whenhe let go, I realized that his zipper was down and his cock wasexposed! For a moment, my hand just lay there. I was too shockedto do anything about it. I looked at him, and his eyes bored intomine. The meaning was clear, of course, and slowly (careful notto make a movement which would be seen by others) I took his hardcock in my hand.It was much larger than I had thought. Thicker and longer,from the feel of it, than most of the cocks I had experiencedbefore. I began to stroke him and found that he was notcircumcised, which surprised me. For some reason, he was the firstuncircumcised man I had ever been with. I enjoyed the feeling ofthe foreskin sliding up and back over the head of his cock - andthe excitement of feeling the head stick further and further outuntil it was fully exposed. As I slowly stroked his cock, hecarried on a perfectly normal conversation - as though nothing atall were going on! I had never encountered a man who was so calmand collected. I, meanwhile, was dripping wet and dying to go backto the apartment and (as I thought to myself) really get going!After I had stroked him for a few minutes, he leaned his headclose to mine and whispered:"I want you to go into the Ladies' Room. If you need to, youmay relieve yourself now - and I would suggest it, since you maynot have another opportunity for some time. When you are through,I want you to wash your pussy clean - I want it fresh and sweetsmelling. In your bag you'll find a brush similar to the one youused back in your bathroom. You'll also find something else thatI want you to wear. It should be obvious how it works. It hadbetter be, since you'll be punished if you don't get it right. Nowleave immediately!"We were obviously back to Master/Slave - and I was deliriouswith excitement, again. I regretfully let go of his cock and stoodup, walking toward the rear of the restaurant, looking for the restrooms. When I found the Ladies' Room, I sat down immediately andurinated - I had been holding it in for quite a while, and it hadstarted to get uncomfortable in the last few minutes. It was arelief to be able to pee. When I was finished and had flushed thetoilet, I walked over to the sink and carefully washed myself usingthe fine scented soap and paper towels I found there. After Idried myself off, I looked in my handbag for the brush. It was inthere, all right - underneath a cock-shaped thing about five incheslong and quite fat. It had an adjustable, elasticized set of half-inch straps that was clearly designed to hold it in place, with onestrap to go over it and between the legs which joined anotheraround the waist. As he said - it was obvious how it worked! Ibrushed the hair away from my pussy lips and spread them open. Ihad never used a dildo before, but I was excited and trembling atthe thought. I carefully slid it into my pussy and tightened thestraps to hold it firmly in position inside me. It was strange tomove around and feel this thing in me - and very sexy! When I wassure it wouldn't fall out or move a great deal, I again used thebrush to style my pubic hair the way Richard liked it.I walked back out to the table, feeling the dildo inside meand almost falling down with the continual flow of pleasure frommy pussy. I reached the table and sat down, allowing the dress toride way up my thighs again, nearly exposing the tops of my nylons.I wanted to reach over and stroke his cock, again, but I was afraidto take permission to do that for granted. And I knew we were backto the stage where I was not expected to initiate any discussions-so I just sat and waited to be told what to do."The check's paid, my dear. Let's walk a bit before we geta cab, shall we?"He took my arm, led me down the steps and started walkingwest, which I knew wasn't the direction we'd go if we were lookingfor a cab. He was just roaming around, and it was a nice night andeverything - but I had a dildo in me that was doing things that Ihad never felt before with each step! I just prayed that soon we'dbe heading home and I could have the climax I'd been buildingtoward for several hours, now!

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