“Stand up,” Kari said to me as she came through the glass door. It was a heck of a greeting. Normally I get a “good morning, Bre. How’s my favorite fuck slut today?” Or “You look ravishing this morning Bre. I think I might just have a taste of my nympho humiliation pain slut.” Or at least “Hello Bre, go to the supply closet and strip naked. I want to whip your cute little pussy.” But now that I think about it, maybe “stand up” is actually better. It avoided a label that a good portion of my messed up psyche isn’t exactly comfortable with.
So I stood, like any good, submissive, fuck slut would. Like I said, I have a messed up psyche.
Kari put her purse down on the desk and rounded the corner so she could see me completely. I felt like a bug under a microscope as she examined my person with both appraising and appreciative eyes. She started at ground level, no doubt examining my selection of footwear; a pair of black strap heels that had a good four inch lift. We’d had a discussion about shoes a week before and she’d grudgingly agreed to let me come down a few inches in order to spare my back. High heels can be a killer. We also agreed that boots would be acceptable on some outings, like demo days, so I had a pair in the trunk of my car.
My legs, as usual, were totally bare. I’m not a stockings girl for the most part. Sure, I own a few, but I’ve never really seen the appeal of them. Since Kari prefers sandal type heels on me, stockings would look a little odd at the toe. She once told me when we were teenagers that not wearing stockings revealed a vulnerability, just one less piece of attire between my body and hers.
Kari liked accessibility, which was why I was wearing a mini-skirt that barely covered my ass and left ninety percent of my leg showing. It was the kind of skirt you see on a girl who is constantly flashing the little lace triangle of her panties every time she sits down, or climbs in or out of a car. Men are constantly waiting for that little glimpse, presuming she’s wearing panties at all. I was following in the footsteps of great pantiless women like Madonna, Kate Moss, Britney Spears, and Kim Kardashian; the soft pink petals of my sex waited for an embarrassing moment to peek out from under the hem, revealing just how desperately wet I was.
Thanks to the vibroballs, my pussy was just a tad bit damp and Kari’s eyes traced the bright pink wire that extruded out from under my black mini-skirt’s hem and trailed upward toward my hip. It was an obnoxious, obvious display, since the position and color of the wire made it rather obvious that I hadn’t shoved my iPod up under my skirt. There would be little doubt in educated or speculative minds that the wire led to a sex toy. It served as another point of humiliation for a girl who cringed when walking into public. The single knob was set to low, sending a small electric current down the wire, which in turn powered a pair of weighted motors, both offset of course, inside two plastic, pill shaped containers. These “pills” were too large to swallow though and had been placed, like suppositories, into my sex that morning with a judicious push of my thumb.
But Kari didn’t stop at my skirt. Her eyes continued upward, roaming over my exposed tummy and up to my top. I hoped she was looking favorably on the blouse I’d selected that morning. It was one she’d bought me and I’d avoided wearing it for months. It was technically a turtleneck, but since it was made of black lace with embroidered black leaves and flowers on it, indecently exposing every curve of my breasts, making it obvious I wasn’t wearing a bra, calling it a turtleneck implied a sort of conservative persona that I find hard to apply. My nipples were hidden, but only by the grace of God and maybe a conscientious designer who had placed the embroidered ivy leaves in just the right spot. Which was good, because the gold hoops which pierced both of my nipples would have been easily seen through the lace sections of my top. And we don’t even need to talk about the small, shiny padlock that could be seen, or the fact that it had to be hanging from my right nipple.
I wasn’t wearing any other jewelry, unless you counted the dangly earrings that pierced each lobe. They were gold, twenty-four carat, and matched the shirt. Lately Kari had requested I wear earrings that befitted my station in life. I’d been a smart ass and asked exactly what my station in life was and Kari had given me such a wicked and sexually naughty look that I just shut the hell up. If you’d asked me, I’d have told you that I’m a stud girl. No… not that kind of stud, though I’ll do him too if I get the chance. Studs as in small, understated earrings. Remember, if given the opportunity, I’d dress like a mouse and you’d never notice me. I hate being put in theses… costumes. It’s humiliating beyond all belief.
I cringed under Kari’s sharp gaze and felt my pussy tighten up even more around the vibroballs. For a wild second I hoped she’d order me to the supply closet, where the punishment frame was waiting. I’d strip naked, let her hang me by the wrists, my weight supported on the twin spreader poles which would force my legs open. She might whip me, or cane me, or use the leather sap on my pussy, or she could push the fucking machine, a dildo tipped post attached to a quiet electric motor, underneath me, letting me endure and enjoy the constant fucking for hours. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Well, we’ll just have to see about that,” Kari said. She turned back toward the door, the one leading to the lobby. “Come along, Bre.”
I blinked and gaped. Today wasn’t an outing day. I wouldn’t have worn the outfit I was in if I’d know we were going out! “Kari!” I hissed. “I’m not dressed for an outing!”
She glanced back at me over her shoulder. “On the contrary my dear, your outfit is almost perfect.” Then she went out the door, holding it open, expecting me to comply. I swallowed hard, a mixture of fear, excitement, and definite arousal surging through me. Would she humiliate me? Would she hurt me? Would I cum?
I grabbed my purse. It held the basic necessity a girl like me needs; condoms, clamps, a few diabolical sex toys, lubricant. Then I followed her out. She locked the office and together we went to her car.
Don't worry. This is just the teaser. The good part will get posted tomorrow! I promise! - Bre