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“Stop fidgeting this instant.” His voice was low and always felt like a caress.

She stopped. Instantly. But she really wanted to keep fidgeting. Fidgeting all the way back into her clothes and into her house and into her room and under her covers.

“You are my Little one.”

“That doesn’t help me. I’m sorry, I should accept your compliment, but I just cannot.” She wasn’t sulking. She was going to humiliate him, she just knew it. Nothing was going to go right. Either the others would look but in the wrong way or they wouldn’t look at all and she didn’t know which would be worse. She just kept tugging at her coat. Even though it was warm-ish, she was wearing her trench coat with every button buttoned. He noticed that she was fidgeting again.

He pulled this truck over into an empty parking lot and stopped. He reached over and pulled her towards him. He embraced her closely and whispered, “Open your coat, little one.” She did.

Somehow, she was never sure how he reached her all the times that he did, he turned her around and spanked her ass. Twice. Hard.

“Close your coat. Sit in the seat. Do not fidget. We are almost there.”

He headed the truck off in the direction of the convention. They were going to meet some of his friends. Some 230 of his nearest and dearest friends. It was a confluence of leather aficionados and those who lived the BDSM lifestyle. Oh, and one small scared-out-of-her-mind noob.

The hosting hotel was actually quite lovely in that muted red-rock kind of way. Rated 4 stars if you could believe their advertising. It was a gleaming monolith decorated in the height of Native American decor. Tall Katchina statues were standing sentry around the lobby. There was a buffalo-skin drum placed near a cluster of uncomfortable looking chairs. And playing over the PA system was an endless soundtrack of Native American flutes and chants. Tourists loved it. Locals liked the bar. 15% discount with an NM driver’s license.

“M. Rozel has not checked in to the convention, but has checked into the hotel. We’ll wait a bit longer then join the convention.” He directed her to the bar and ordered a beer and Scotch for himself and a glass of Zin for her.

M. Rozel. M. Rozel. She was sick of hearing about this person. She was sure that this was the love of her Master’s life and that M. Rozel would turn out to be the most beautiful woman the world had ever known. M. Rozel could probably bend in ways that could make a bronze statue cum. Well M. Rozel can just kiss my fat flabby ass, she thought viciously. Then she made the mistake of guzzling her wine. Of course her Master noticed.

“Another? While you pout.”

“I am not pouting and yes, I would love another. I’m nervous that I will do something to embarrass you.”

“Be calm. I know that you are uncomfortable but you are thinking too much about what might go wrong. Think about how much pleasure you are giving me. I love seeing you in the shinju. Others will love it as well. M. Rozel will love you.”

She had had enough. “Please do not talk about her again. I will meet your lover and I will be respectful. I will be nice, but I will also be utterly inferior to her. . .”

She stopped speaking because her Master had actually choked on his drink.

When he could finally speak, he was laughing, “M. Rozel? My lover?”

As if it had been choreographed by the angels, M. Rozel walked into the bar.

He was a 65 year old gnome. Her Master embraced the little man and escorted him to their table.

“May I introduce you both. Master Matsuri Rozel, I would like you to meet the love of my life. Lover, this is my mentor Matsuri Rozel. He taught me knot-work.” Her Master looked at her with loving laughter in his eyes that threatened to spill out at any second.

“I have much to thank you for Master Rozel.” It was all she could think to say.

“Polite and contrite. Your master has done well. But I see that you have a fire in you. You like the struggle don’t you, little one?”

“I do actually. My Master is very strong and I love to feel that strength.” She blushed to be so honest with this stranger.

“He also needs someone who will not be too complacent. Don’t give in too quickly. It will bore him.” M. Rozel chuckled and stroked her cheek.

“Oh, forgive me. I didn’t ask permission.”

“It is given before it is requested, M. Rozel. You may have her in any way you wish.”

“That offer, more than any other, could tempt me to give up my vow of abstinence. She is young and lovely. I get just a hint of the shinju and the waist cinch. You are much loved, my dear.”

“I am much loved and would willing give any allowable pleasure to you, Master Rozel.”

“I’m passed that. My pleasure comes from knowing that I’ve taught all I can to some very worthy pupils. The knots will live on.”

There was a flurry of activity at the entrance to the bar. M. Rozel and her Master excused themselves and went to greet more of M. Rozel’s pupils. She took a moment to watch her Master. He was not a tall man but Pendik Sınırsız Escort he was beautifully proportioned. His long brown hair was held back by a single leather lace. There was a charm he had made at one end. It was the BDSM emblem in gold. She had two that she would wear once she was fully garbed.

He returned to her side. “It is time to go in. I’ll wait here while you finish dressing, then I’ll check our coats.”

She wanted to ask him for reassurance. She wanted him to go into the restroom with her and shield her. She wanted to go home. She wanted to please him. She stood and went into the restroom with her small bag.

She stepped out of the restroom about 10 minutes later. She was wearing stilettos, black fishnet thigh-high stockings, a black lace thong, a black leather waist cinch, a collar made of 1 1/2 wide leather with a ring for her leash, and the black shinju. The shinju was of leather straps rather than rope. It was also tied, not to flatten her breasts horizontally, but to circle the breast and make them project.

Her Master placed the leather and gemstone mask over her eyes. The gemstones were green to make her blue eyes flash. Her red hair also made her eyes a more startling blue. He took her hair down out of the clip it was in. She had clipped it in such a way as to make it wavier. He tousled her hair and she was a chestnut lioness.

Her Master kissed her gently on the lips while he tweaked her nipple. He put her nipple clamps and chain on her. Over her nipples, he placed the leather pasties with a painted version of the BDSM emblem. He also tied her arms behind her back with the extra leather laces that he’d brought. The last bit was to clip her leash onto her collar. Somehow this clip always made a resounding clink every time he put it on her. The sound was hard and light. It was hot and cold. It was love and ownership.

She hated and loved it.

He pulled her to him using the leash. He yanked at the last second and she stumbled against his chest. He caught her with an arm around her waist and kissed her hard. He had checked both of their coats so she rubbed against his scratchy wool sweater. It was a lovely abrasion against her hard nipples. She felt his arousal and she pooled at her core. She was pleasing him. She would do anything to please him.

The convention hall was filled with the smell of leather. She loved the smell of leather. It was one of her greatest pleasures to be allowed to watch her Master work on his leather pieces. Each time a cut was made the smell would refresh in his small work area. Sometimes, just to tease her, he would stroke her cheek with some unfinished piece. The smell was making her wet and dizzy. She stumbled just a little.

Her Master was right beside her, holding her.

“Little one?” He was always considerate.

“The smell,” she whimpered. “I want it all to touch me. I mean, I want to touch it all. It’s like being in your workshop – so intimate. I want. . .” She couldn’t even finish her statement.

“Step this way, Little one. We’re blocking the door.” He guided her out of the traffic. She glanced up to offer apologies to the other participants. A very elegant M/s couple were walking in. The slave smiled very sweetly as if in total understanding about the affect this was having and that she shared in it. The master merely nodded his head at her Master. They seemed to be followed by another kind of servant. He was not in any garb at all and he looked rather like a bum.

“Little one?” She was causing her Master to be embarrassed.

“Forgive me. I’m better now.”

“You misunderstand my concern. I want you overwhelmed. I will take care of your needs at a more appropriate time. But do stay overwhelmed. It gives your cheeks such a healthy glow.” He looked at her with lust and love in equal measure. They walked into the display areas.

After a few moments, she asked, “Did you happen to notice the small group that came in while I was collecting myself?”

“Yes. I’ve met that man a few times. His name is Roberson. There are insinuations about him. He is a good man who treats his slaves well. He just has a high turn-over rate. Why do you ask?”

She lost her train of thought at the idea of turn-over rate. What did that even mean? How could that be? What would happen if . . .

Her Master held her hand and spoke gently to her.

“In some relationships, it is understood that there will be an end. Some relationships are for a very short duration. Some slaves like that arrangement as do some masters. Some last for years. You cannot see all relationships in terms of ours. Why did you ask about that couple?”

He was able to reassure her and bring her back to the point.

“It was more about that third person. He seemed out of place somehow.”

“He was not elegantly dressed, certainly, but as you know, this event is mostly by invitation only. We can assume that he is where he is supposed to be.”

They moved slowly through the displays. Her Master could tell quality craftsmanship Pendik Suriyeli Escort in a glance. He was looking for few different tools and he was always on the lookout for cutting blades. She saw nothing that appealed to her that her Master couldn’t produce in better quality. Even the clamps and jewelry were inferior to what her Master could produce.

She found her mind wandering. Until she felt a tug on her nipple chain. Her Master had just added a small weight to the chain. She didn’t even know that he’d been carrying them in his pocket. The weight wasn’t even an ounce, but the swinging tug was pleasant. She also noticed that she walked with a bit more of a swish, just to swing the weight a bit more. He made her walk in front of him. By the time they cleared the row of merchants there were 4 weights dangling on the chain and her nipples were quite hard and her moisture was gathering.

In the midst of a conversation her Master was having about brain tanning, a statuesque transvestite dom walked up to her. This dom was stunningly beautiful. She was dressed as a woman, but had a rich baritone voice.

“Where is your master, little girl?”

He was beside her in a moment. “Mistress Clint, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I should have known that she was yours. The leather work on the harness is unmistakable. Would you like to pet my pooch?” It took her a moment to realize that Mistress Clint was asking her to pet the man on all fours beside his mistress. She looked to her Master for guidance.

“As you wish, little one.”

She was uncertain of what to do. Treat this man like an animal? Treat him as an equal? They were both slaves after all. She stepped over to the man who was actually looking up at her with puppy-dog eyes. She knelt down beside him and scratched her short nails up his back from his ass to his collar. She moved her hand very slowly and was surprised to see the four parallel scratch marks redden. The man groaned with pleasure. He looked up at his mistress who told him not to cum. As if he were a real dog, he leaned against his new friend and groaned again. She kissed him on his cheek and stood up.

“He is a beautiful pet, Mistress Clint. Thank you for allowing me to touch him.”

“Such a sweet thing you have there. I’d ask to kiss her, but that would smear my lipstick,” said Mistress Clint. With a pull on the leash, off they went.

She just watched them walk away. They were certainly not the most flamboyant couple there, but there was something about them.

“Would you have liked to kiss Mistress Clint, Little one?”

“No, but I would like to suck her dick.” The answer was out of her mouth before she even thought about it. She turned bright red and began to stammer an apology.

Her Master just laughed. “I would like to watch that, I think. There could be a better choice in tranny for us, however.”

They turned a corner and were in the metal-working section of the convention. Buckles in brass. Clamps in silver. Emblems in gold. Someone was soldering. Everything sparkled. Something caught her Master’s eye. It was a buckle on the harness of a very beautiful slave.

“Excuse me, but might I inspect your metalwork?” Her Master asked.

“Yes, of course. Present yourself for the gentleman.” He said this last bit to his slave. The slave stood as if posing for a fashion shoot. The insignia was between her breasts. The slave was not aware that the new man was looking at the piece of metal. She thought he was looking at her breasts, so she began to shake them for, what she assumed, would be his enjoyment.

“Forgive me my dear, but I wish to see the metal between your glorious orbs. Please be still.”

“Did she offend you, sir?” The other master was becoming agitated.

“Of course not. She is lovely and has every right to assume that all eyes would be on her. I thank you both for your time.”

The slave spoke up as if to defend herself. “But that other man wanted to touch me. I just thought you wanted the same. I am sorry, master. I didn’t understand.”

“Who touched you? No one is supposed to touch without asking permission. Did someone touch you?” The other master was quite upset now. They walked away quickly to discuss what happened.

“Little one, let this be a lesson to us both. Ask first, finger the merchandise later.”

She giggled. “What did you like about that lovely emblem?”

“What I could see, which was not much for all the quaking, was that it was a very complex piece of cire perdue.”

“What is cire perdue?”

“It is the French name for lost-wax casting. I sound rather snooty, don’t I?”

“Rather.” She snorted.

“You’ve earned a spanking for that. Your Master is never snooty.” She loved it when he was playful in this way.

“You are certainly correct, Master. You’re much more the snotty type.” She looked him brazenly in the eye when she said this.

“Oh Little one. You are saucy and I shall certainly make that sauce flow later. Onward.” This last was delivered with a swat to her Pendik İranlı Escort ass.

Her Master found a few odds and ends to buy. There were some additional weights placed on her nipple chain. There was a brief award ceremony honoring Matsuri Rozel. M. Rozel reminded his pupils of the after-party Those invited had a golden embossed chop on the invitation. Her Master was, of course, invited. It had been a pleasant afternoon and was shaping up to be a pleasant evening. The event was winding down. The merchants seemed happy – most had made some money.

She had overheard a few couples making plans for future parties. Names and numbers had been exchanged. Several masters had given her Master their cards. He was unfailing polite to them, but also rid himself of the pieces of cardboard as quickly as he could.

“Do they want to learn from you?”

“In a few cases, yes. However, most of them just want a dungeon and supplies to use. I’m being a bit unkind, but there are few who will take advantage. Also there is the added attraction of you, Little one. A slave in residence – that appeals to most of them.”

“There is something seedy about taking advantage.”

“Yes, Little one, even kinks can become perverted.” She laughed at that.

Suddenly, the man who didn’t seem to belong was standing in front of her. She remembered him from the entrance of the convention room. He seemed the worse for wear. There was a cash bar and he’d been at it.

Roberson and his slave had approached from almost the same direction and were talking to her Master when this strange man interrupted.

“I wanna kiss your slave.” He had followed protocol, so now it was up to her Master to decide. She could hardly believe her eyes when her Master stepped aside. He didn’t say anything, but his actions were quite clear.

The strange man took a step towards her. She took a step back and said, “No.”

Everybody froze.

The stranger leered at her. “He said you gotta.”

Her Master intervened. “I said nothing of the sort. Little one, what is the matter? He is a guest here.”

“Master, I’m so very sorry. I know that I’ve disobeyed. Not your words but your body language gave this man permission. I know that it is wrong to disobey. But his hands are not clean and he has several cold sores. Forgive me, but I cannot obey.”

“You can’t call me dirty, you little bitch. You gotta let me. I’ve tongued prettier bitches than you today.”

“Roberson, control your guest.” Her Master pulled her behind him and turned towards the other master.

“He is no guest of mine,” Roberson said.

“He walked in with your party,” her Master insisted.

“I saw him paying at the convention entrace. He is not with me.”

“I fucking paid my own way and I can touch your whores all I want. You’re nothing but a bunch of cock-sucking, dressed up, faggots ” the grubby little man screamed.

“Even as a paying conventioner, your behavior has crossed the line. Please go get one of the coordinators. We need to get this cleared up and this man kicked out.”

Several other men had gathered to keep the peace while Roberson walked quickly away. His slave stayed, holding the younger woman’s hand, standing beside her Master.

She spoke very quietly, “It is regrettable, but sometimes these things happen. All will be well. You did right.”

Her Master turned to her, “Little one, Roberson’s lovely slave is correct. I gave my permission because I thought he was with their party. Was it the cold sores that you noticed?”

“No, it was his hands.” Her Master laughed.

Roberson, several event coordinators, and five security guards arrived. They quickly escorted the man out.

“If I may ask, what was so humorous about his hands?” Roberson’s slave asked.

Glancing at her Master, “I love hands. They are the first body part I notice. I beg pardon, but I noticed that your master has a scar on the back of his left thumb and that you have a small bandage on your pinkie.” She stopped talking and looked at the ground.

There was much eye-contact between Roberson, his slave, and her own Master.

“Yes, you may,” was all her Master said.

“You have beautiful eyes,” Roberson’s slave leaned in and kissed her lightly on her eyelids. “You also have a beautiful mouth,” and she was kissed lingeringly on the lips. Both slaves moaned as the kiss deepened to involve tongue play.

The kiss was interrupted by the return of one of the coordinators. He apologized profusely for the disturbance.

She gestured to her Master asking to speak.

“Of course.”

“That man mentioned that he had tongued some slaves. I don’t know if that was bragging or pure falsehood on his part, but for the health of others, maybe you could ask that everyone get a check-up.”

“It seems we all owe your slave a bit of thanks,” said Roberson.

“I believe you’re right. Let me think.”

She was reclining on a leather-covered table. Her Master’s instructions were that all who had not been involved with the man who had just been escorted out would be permitted to gently stroke his slave. Nothing was to be inserted as there were rules about nudity and no pain was to be given. He would take care of both the nudity and the pain himself later. When he said this over the PA, the room broke into laughter.

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