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JODI’S TRIALS
Days have passed, turning into weeks. Her training’s been intense. Her submissive psyche has been reached, even stretching toward a masochistic trait, a trait that initially surfaced in her very first discipline session after her arrival. She has since experienced the fine line between pleasure and pain. Tonight, she’s going to experience another level of her submissiveness. She’s been informed that this evening she’s going to be taken off the estate to her Master. For the first time since her abduction, she’s not only leaving the mansion but the estate grounds.
Chapter Five
Setting on the stool, facing toward the oversized mirror on the parlor’s wall, she remains motionless as the scantly robed pair of female sub missives is completing her preparation in silence. Having bathed, shaved, toweled off and oiled her tanned body, they’ve dressed her in a silk, nude toned, sheer chiffon dress the Master had custom designed for her. Dramatically form fitting over her bare flesh, thigh length, parted slits up both sides to the tops of her hips, the revealing bust line plunges into a “V” shape to just below her exposed navel.
`The narrow, subtle material flowing off either shoulder is designed to barely envelop her areolas, pierced nipples. The translucent material clings fittingly across her thrust out breasts, leaving the symmetrically rounded curves of her inner and outer globes shimmering, erotically exposed, the gold studs gleaming, their silhouette contoured along with the nubs of her nipples through the sheer dress. An uncomfortable but tolerable flat bowed slat is stitched into the back seam of the dress bowing her shoulders back.
Remaining stoic, she stares straight ahead, directly toward her reflection in the mirror as a submissive kneels, straps a pair of six inch black stiletto heels across her ankles as the other finishes wrapping her tightly braided hair behind her neck. Her appearance boarders on exotic, the makeup’s perfect, professional, her toned body at first glance, appearing virtually nude.
She wonders what the night’s bringing even as the submissive servants commence her final preparation by sliding black; shoulder length gloves firmly up onto her arms. Tight fitting, the material’s manipulated slowly upwards, several shakes of talcum powder needed with each arm. The material finally stretched above her elbows, the tops of the gloves end just below her armpits. Sensing the tingling in her fingers, she watches inquisitively as her left arm, right arm are separately lifted outward by a submissive as the other sprays an aerosol container up and down, around the glove, from top to bottom. Even as her arms are lowered, she realizes that between the loss of feeling and the hardening spray, they’re quickly becoming immobile.
Assisted from the stool, she’s helped to stand erect, practically tiptoeing in the tall heels while still facing the mirror. Glancing toward her reflection, her shoulders arched back, gloved arms hanging limply toward her sides; she catches the gleam of all three gold studs detectable through the translucent material of her dress. Still in silence, a black leather chocker with four gold rings mounted evenly spaced, is affixed around her throat to complete her preparation.
A final quick inspection and a leader leash is attached to the chocker. She’s led from the parlor, taken directly to the side entrance of the mansion where a black limousine awaits her under the car port. The chauffer stands, waiting beside the already open rear door as she slides onto the leather seat, unclips the leash. As he closes the door, she finds herself isolated, the windows deeply tinted, the dividing glass closed. Soft music plays from the surrounding speakers during the twenty or so minute drive as she leans back against the seat, wonders.
Entering a driveway, the limo slows to a complete stop. In moments the rear door opens, the chauffer leans across the seat, snaps the leader leash back to the front of her collar. Flicking the gold studs, tweaking, caressing both nipples, the chauffer watches the sheer material shrink across her puckering nubs. Assisting her out, he hands the leash to a waiting escort.
She immediately realizes she’s being put on exhibit. Led through the front entrance of the elegant Tudor style building, she’s humiliated by the attention she’s instantly receiving by the on looking well dressed crowd. Her chest pounds as she’s led inside to a posh restaurant while she feels even more then naked, trying to block out the stares by lowering her head, staring toward the floor. Passing through, her seductive body glistens, the clinging, nude chiffon dress virtually transparent under the entrance’s lights, the gold studs gleaming off her swaying, melon sized globe.
Stepping through the separating patrons, she senses even more stares mounting from behind. The “V” of the straps in the back of the dress trails below the upper crease of her buttocks revealing the dimples below the small of her back. Even the clit stud is noticeable in the bright lighting, its silhouette gleaming through the sheer material from the parting slit between her spread thighs.
Parting through the staring group, she’s escorted to a side lounge of a dozen or so tables. They’re mostly filled with formally dressed couples, with the exception of the table in the very center of the room, where her Master, also formally attired, sits alone. Approaching that table, a chair’s slid out for her by the escort as he unsnaps the leader chain. Sitting, she silently positions herself. Arms limp toward her sides, the glove’s fingertips sway past the spreading slits up the sides of her dress, her bare thighs exposed, practically up to her waist.
He sits across from her, aloof, checking, pointing toward the wine list, advising his selection to a waiter, seemingly incognizant of her presence as patron’s eyes continuously glance toward her. Still gazing down toward the table, she remains silent, embarrassed as the waiter leaves the table. After a couple of silent minutes, the Master stands up. Stepping besides her, leaning over, kissing her across the forehead, indiscreetly brushing his hand across her left breast, he simply states. “You look beautiful. Back soon.” Leaving the table, he exits the room.
Staring down toward the tablecloth, she feels the warmth instantly spreading across her face as she catches a glimpse of her breasts stretching against the chiffon, her left nipple now fully exposed from the flick of his hand, the gold stud gleaming from her tanned flesh. Helpless to adjust her dress, she remains in her proper posture, remains mute.
The whispered comments around her are obvious, the stares of the men embarrassing, the glares of the women humiliating. The minutes pass by uncomfortably slow as she feels totally humiliated, helpless. The waiter finally approaches the table, pours a dash of wine in each glass while obviously focusing his attention across her bare breast while sarcastically commenting. “You certainly are overflowingly beautiful tonight, Madam.” Smiling, a final overall glance, he leaves the table as she again sits alone.
Her face turns a bright chrisom shade as she grows more and more humiliated, trying to concentrate on the ripples in the wine glass, block out her surroundings, the mutterings, the stares, slow minutes pass by until finally, the Master returns, silently sits in his seat. Raising her head glancing toward him, she keeps her eyes from glancing around the room.
Taking a sip of wine, oblivious to the other patrons, watching her, he nods, asks. “I love your dress, what’s the matter? You have permission to speak.”
“Sorry, Master.” She answers. “My breast is exposed, and, and I, I can’t lift my arms.”
Smiling, he again nods. “Well, looks like you’re just have to stay that way then, doesn’t it?”
Lowering her head, knowing better then to complain, or even ask any type of question, she whispers back. “Yes Master.”
“Yes what slave?” Looking directly into her eyes, he asks in a tone loud enough to be heard by the closer, surrounding tables.
Her face flushing, if possible an even brighter red, she stutters. “I’ll guess I’ll have to sit here with my breast exposed, Master.”
“Excuse me? I didn’t hear you Slave.” He responds, a chagrin expression on his face.
Lowering her eyes, she repeats herself, embarrassingly louder. “Sorry Master, I said I’ll sit here with my breast exposed!” Glancing from the corners of her eyes, she notices the people looking, listening.
“Would you like your breast to be covered?” He asks in a gentle tone, taking another sip of wine.
“Yes, yes please Master.” She answers with a tone of humility, her face remaining flushed.
“Very well, but first… Here” Lifting his glass toward her lips, while softly speaking. ”Take a sip.”
The glass held in front of her, she leans forward, feels the glass against her mouth. Taking a sip, she feels a couple drops drip down across her naked breast. As he pulls the glass back, she glances down, embarrassingly watches the wine drip off the nipple stud, of her bared breast, onto the table cloth.
“Want that wiped first?” He asks, nodding toward her breast, picking up a table napkin.
“Yes Master, please!” She answers without hesitation, still trying to block out the surrounding onlookers.
“Okay. Well, then ask.” He scolds, staring directly at her, napkin in hand.
Feeling her heart pounding, realizing the humiliation she’s being put through, realizing she has to answer so others can hear her, she blurts. “Okay Master, I’m sorry. Please wipe the wine from my nipple before you cover my breast. Please Master!” Again she hears a couple of hushed comments, catches some glances from the tables as she keeps her eyes lowered, the pit of her stomach churning.
“Look up at me.” He directs, laying the napkin down.
Glancing up, silent, lips parted, she obediently stares into his eyes.
Staring back, leaning back, he orders. “Listen, stand up. Go over to the table on your right. Look the lady sitting there directly in her eyes, mention you’re a slave, ask her in the proper way to wipe your tit and cover it up.” Glancing toward the table, back at Jodi, he nods. “Do it now! Understand?”
A tear welling in her eye, feeling the warmth spreading across her cheeks, she slides up off the chair, struggles to balance herself in the stilettos as her arms hang limp. “Yes Master!” Hesitantly turning, she approaches the closest couple, distinguished, attractive.
The room’s become virtually silent as she steps next to the table. Her heart pulsing, she lifts her head, stares at the woman. The couple look up toward her, in the middle of their meal, utensils in hand, stares back.
Forcing herself, Jodi leans slowly forward. Her gloved arms hanging limp, her bare breast swaying, the stud gleaming, the outline of her other breast pressing through the sheer material, she embarrassingly asks. “Would you please, please cover this slave’s bare breast? And, and please wipe this slave’s nipple first? Please!”
The woman smiles, glances toward her husband who remains silent, his shoulder shrugging. Glancing back toward Jodi, she surprisingly picks up her table cloth, pinches the nipple stud, twisting it between her thumb and forefinger, swipes the cloth back and forth a couple of times before letting it drop it back across the table. Gently cupping Jodi’s bare breast, giving it an odd squeeze, she slowly slips the globe beneath the narrow fabric, gives another couple gentle squeezes. Glancing back into Jodi’s eyes, still caressing the supple mound, she softly asks. “Anything else, slave?”
Standing upright, her arms straight down toward her sides, a tear dripping off her cheek, Jodi humbly answers. “No, no thank you.”
Humiliated, turning, she feels the woman’s hand slipping from the dress, the fingertips still pinching as they slide away. Stepping back to her chair, she slips down onto the cushion. Glancing down toward the wine glass, she speaks. “Thank you Master, for, for letting me have my breast covered.”
“You’re welcome Slave.” He nods indifferently while glancing toward the waiter approaching the table. “The usual, for the two of us, and, she’ll need a bib.” He exclaims as the waiter simply nods in the affirmative, glancing, smiling toward Jodi as he turns away.
“We don’t want your dress ruined now, do we?” The Master speaks.
“No, no Master, thank you.” She answers back, her eyes lowered, not really even wondering what he ordered, her stomach feeling nauseated as she sits motionless with her arms completely numb at her sides.
A couple brief minutes pass, the waiter returns. Without a word, he unfolds a white handkerchief size napkin, lays it up across the mounds of Jodi’s breasts in a diamond pattern. Reaching toward her throat, he clips a shinny black, shellacked clothespin across the tip of the napkin and the gold “O” ring on the chocker directly under her chin. Leaning across her, he cups her right breast, slips it up and out of her dress. He clamps an identical clothespin across the napkin, clipping it to her nipple.
Still sitting silent, biting her lip, her breast stinging, a tear drips off her cheek as she watches with lowered eyes as her left breast is also tugged out, the edge of the napkin slipped across it, the clothespin shoved across the nipple stud.
“Anything else Madam?” He asks, sarcastically smiling as he still leans across her, pressing the clamp tightly into her nipple.
“No, ahhh! No, no thank you, agghh!” Jerking, glancing up, she grunts as the clamps dig into her nipples. Again she whispers. “Thank, thank you.”
Nodding, the waiter turns toward the Master. “Your request will be out shortly, sir.”
“Yes, thank you, I’m sure she appreciates your attention.” He nods back, brushing his hand in front of him as the waiter turns, steps away.
Jodi remains virtually motionless, her nipples pulsing under the clamps. Quiet, head down, she ignores the stares as she struggles to accept the discomfort, physically and mentally. Several agonizing minutes pass silently by until the waiter returns with an assistant, setting the course on the table.
“Hope you don’t mind, I’m a meat and potatoes man.” The Master quips toward Jodi as he glances at the settings. “Steak and potatoes. Along with the wine, that’s usually what I order here. Nothing like a good steak.” Leaning across the table, cutting a couple slices of the bone in filet mignon, he lifts a slice to her lips. “Taste it.”
Obeying, she parts her lips, accepts the offering. Chewing, swallowing, she keeps her eyes lowered, trying to blank out the embarrassment, not wanting to upset him. Lifting the wine glass, he again allows her a couple swallows, actually careful not to spill any this time. Disconcertedly, he alternates feeding her, himself along with occasional sips of wine. Continuing to quietly eat, nipples aching, arms numb, useless toward her sides, she tries to block out her surroundings, but cant’ help wondering how he can handle being surrounded by so many people, in the middle of an elegant restaurant, and yet being so casual, as if this situation is all a normal thing.
The meal finally finished, the waiter returns, pours another splash of wine, has the rest of the table cleared. A couple more sips and she somberly realizes that to add to her humiliation, she feels the need to relieve herself. “Master? She asks.
“Yes?” He answers, glancing toward her.
Lowering her head, she mumbles. “I, I need to use the restroom, what should I do?”
Smiling, he nods, pointing toward the rear of the room. “Over there, the restroom’s here are staffed; I’m sure someone will be more then glad to help you. Go ahead. And, by the way, do as she tells you.”
Humiliatingly, again sliding off the chair, struggling to maintain her balance, she steps between the tables. Face flushed, ignoring the looks, comments, she hobbles slowly back toward the restroom as she thinks of what he just said about obeying the attendant. The napkin sways under the jiggling clothespins with the sides of her breasts fully exposed as she enters the lavish restroom. Passing several patrons glancing toward her, she’s met by a uniformed, attractive female attendant who smiling, glances her up and down, raising an eyebrow, asks. “Assistance?”
“Yes, I, I do need some assistance.” Jodi answers, head lowered, heart thumping, utterly humiliated. “I can’t use my arms, and I, I need to use the restroom.”
The attendant, still smiling, glancing toward the clothes pins, reaches out, unsnaps the pair across her breasts at the same time. “Ouch!” Jodi grunts as the pain sears through both nipples, the crumpled cloth clinging to her stinging flesh as the attendant ignores the whining and quickly unclips the third pin from the chocker, slips off the napkin.
“There. Now that’s better.” The attendant states as she obviously stares at Jodi’s bare breasts hanging out from the dress, the compressed nipples jiggling. “Here, come with me.”
Turning, leading Jodi to an enclosed stall, she enters with her, shuts the door, orders in a commanding voice. “Turn around.” Obeying, turning, Jodi feels her dress being manipulated, slid off her shoulders, down toward her ankles.
“Don’t want this soiled, now do we?” The attendant smirks while kneeling, gripping Jodi’s thigh with one hand to hold her steady while grabbing the dress with the other. “Step up.”
Again obeying, Jodi carefully lifts one, the other foot above the dress as the attendant holds it in her hand, stands up.
“Squat, go ahead.” The attendant nods toward the toilet as she begins folding the dress.
Again obeying, practically numb, Jodi squats on the toilet seat, arms dangling, hears the trickle of her urine in the bowel. The attendant holds the dress in one hand, ripping a couple of tissues from the roller, nonchalantly reaches down between Jodi’s thighs waiting for the last trickle.
“Spread ‘em.” She quips as she forces her hand between Jodi’s legs, wipes back and forth across the clit stud, dropping the tissue in the bowel, flushing the lever. “Stand up.” She orders as she suddenly slides two fingers a couple knuckles deep into Jodi’s slit while pressing her thumb against the clit stud, lifting upwards. “Your Master instructed you to obey me! Didn’t he?”
Jerking, mortified, Jodi keeps her eyes lowered as she stands, whimpers. “Yes, yes Mam!”
Feeling the attendant quickly pinch her clit, unexpectedly kiss her harshly across the lips, she staggers back, stunned, heart pounding. The attendant grabs a gold ring on the chocker, picks up the dress and leads her from the stall. Stepping between several women, coming and going, all glancing inquisitively toward her, she keeps her eyes lowered.
“Hold still.” The attendant orders, placing the dress on the counter, returning with the three clothespins. Reaching out, clamping a clothespin deep onto Jodi’s right nipple as she squeezes it between her thumbnail and forefinger, she quickly clamps a second on the left nipple while squeezing it. Without hesitating, kneeling down, she clamps the third clothespin directly across the clit stud. Deeply embedded, the pins stand straight out, jiggle. “There, you’ve got your clamps back! Now for my tip! Stand still!” She smirks.
Stepping behind Jodi, again approaching the counter, picking up a riding crop, she steps back. “Thwack!” The crop flicks across Jodi’s right globe, deflecting off the nipple stud.
“Oomph!” Grunting, surprised, humiliated, Jodi feels the sting across her breast, lowers her eyes as the group of women silently surrounds her, watches. “Thwack!” She bites her lip as the second slash flicks across the left stud. “Agghhhh!”
“Spread! Bend over!” The attendant orders.
Jodi immediately obeys, her gloved arms swaying as her butt cheeks thrust out, a couple of the women stepping behind her. “Thwack! Thwack!” The crop slashes across her left butt cheek, followed by one across her right. “Uuummph!”
“Stay like you are.” The attendant orders as tears drip off Jodi’s cheeks, her buttocks quivering, her welted breasts hanging down, swaying between her arms. “Thwack!” The crop’s flicked straight up between her slit, nipping the bud of her clit.
“Aaagghh!” Unable to hold back, Jodi squeals as she jerks erect, nearly stumbling in her heels.
“We’re done.” The attendant smirks as the separating women smile, go about their business.
Leaning at the entrance, the attendant watches with a grin as Jodi struggles from the restroom, arms dangling. The clothespins jiggle from her breasts as the six inch stiletto heels click across the tile floor, the lounge quiet, everyone staring her way.
On the verge of shock, the whole experience becoming more and more surreal by the moment, Jodi stares straight at the table in the center of the room as she stumbles, virtually naked, directly toward it. Passing the stares, hearing the murmurs, reaching the table, she slides her aching butt cheeks across the cushion, sets silently. Tears streak down off her cheeks, marring her prefect makeup, the crop marks glistening across her bare breasts, the clothespins jiggling from her nipples. The room’s hushed, the patrons all still intently staring, her Master somehow still seeming oblivious to it all.
“Ready?” He asks, glancing across the table into her welling eyes.
“Ready! Master?” She blurts, trying to hold back her emotions.
“To leave. To go back to the estate?” He responds with the wine glass in hand, again obviously ignoring her nudity and the people seated around them.
“Yes! Oh yes, please Master.” She answers, almost begging, lowering her head, feeling nauseated.
Glancing across the room, he nods. In moments the same escort responds with the leash.
“Go with him.” The Master orders as the escort reaches for her arm, helps her stand, clips on the leash as she remains silent, just nodding.
Turning, the escort leads her out the same way they came in. Still crowded, the patrons parting, stare, comment as she’s led through. Her naked body glistens, the fresh whip marks across her shimmering breasts, bare butt cheeks. Her useless, black gloved arms slope down from her sides, the clothespins glistening from her bare flesh as she keeps her crimson tinted face lowered while being led out by the leash on her chocker.
Taken from the restaurant to the dark colored limousine, the chauffeur helps her into the back seat. Leaning inside, he gently removes the leash, the clothespins from her breasts, finally from her clit, shuts the door.
Inside the restaurant, her Master, sitting alone, stands up, table cloth in hand, turns toward the patrons smiling back, toward the female attendant smiling from the restroom’s entrance.
Chuckling, he comments. “She hasn’t a clue I own this place and we’re all members of the society.” End Part Five
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