I asked my date what I should wear.
The reply was “A long skirt. And no panties.”
After completing my tasks at Sir’s, I requested permission to prepare for my date. He agreed, so I quickly showered, shaved, and dressed as ordered. I returned for inspection. I shivered at the tone in his voice when he said “You are almost ready for your date.”
A huge chunk of time following that statement is a blur now. I do know the last clear memory though. He grabbed my hair and dragged me outside, across the yard, and up to my quarters.
I was beaten. I do remember screaming. I was tormented. I do remember begging. I was fucked. I do remember cuming. I think he put me on the cross. I do remember counting. I think I was on the bench. I do remember suffering for him. That memory is gone, as it so often is. I do know it was extremely intense.
I ended up on the bed, fighting off subspace with all my strength. I couldn’t fly. I had to move! I had to function. I tried to focus on something in the room. There were implements and devices everywhere. That wasn’t helping with the focus. I began to clean, knowing the service would ground me.
As the layers of my brain slowly began to work again, I wobbled down the stairs and back to the main house. My legs still weren’t listening to my mind yet. It crossed my mind that I must look like a baby deer taking its first steps.
Sir was waiting and watching. “You don’t think you’re done yet, do you slut?” He grabbed my hair again, pulled me inside, and bent me over the couch. He threw my skirt up over my head.
I protested. I fought. I yelled that I needed to have my brain. I had to drive soon. I had a date! Then I felt the pen…
“You might want to stay still slut. If you make me mess this up, I’ll just have to fill it all in black, and start over with a different color.”
That statement combined with the tickle of the marker caused a spontaneous giggle fit.
“Stop moving slut.”
Now in addition to fighting giggle-related wiggles, I was tuning out the tickle, and trying to ‘read’ what he was writing. It was helping my higher functions return.
Then he began to growl the ways he loves me, in the most horribly wonderful words. Whenever he does that, I get lost in his voice. In those arms, that accent, bites and pinches, hugs and kisses. And back off to space I went…
A short time later, I returned to Earth, and went out to smoke. Sir was sitting out there. He was grinning.
I picked up my phone.
“Feel free to have her gang banged.”
Then the photo downloaded.
I had forgotten about the marker. I am sure my mouth dropped open. I looked at Sir. I almost spoke, then stopped to think about how to phrase it. I did NOT want to misunderstand.
“Sir, am I to understand from that statement that you just gave my date full control of everything? My body, all of my holes, and for any cock? Not just his?”
I opened my mouth again. There was only one thing to say. And I don’t think I’ve ever meant it more…
“Yes Sir. Thank you. I love you.”
I left and went on that date. I offered him full control. More power than any Dom has ever allowed me to posses, let alone hand over…
My date smiled. He took me into a small room. He brought in another man, introduced us briefly, and locked the door.
“Now bend over that couch slut, and pull up that skirt. Show us the message your Master sent.”
Ah, but that is another story…