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Downstairs I was delighted to find a message at the main desk from my old football owners here in town that they would be delighted to join us for dinner tonight, along with a few friends. They had suggested an excellent Italian restaurant, one of the best on the downtown side of North Beach and I called them back to confirm that we would be there.

Also, in a message that was too delicate to be left with the hotel staff, I was told that they were looking forward to meeting my slave girl in training, and perhaps even broadening her horizons a little bit… well maybe a lot. It seems that this was one of their party weekends and I was invited to bring my new girl along to watch the professionals in action on Saturday at their mansion on Pacific Heights.

Well, I did warn her that things could get ugly.

**********

As I mentioned earlier, my old bosses here in San Francisco, especially the owners of the team Rick and Pat, and their college friend and General Manager of the club Doug McAllister, were all a rather kinky lot and very active in the local B&D/S&M community. Rick handled all of the ownership duties of the franchise and his Pat handled the charity events of the team. Her photo was often in the society pages of both newspapers, but no one knew that for her ‘day job’, Pat was one of the top professional dominatrix’s in the city, with a client book full of names of the rich and famous. Once she had been a Doctor of Psychology, but now her practice was of a rather different sort.

About once a month, Rick and Pat hosted a ‘play party’ at their mansion where just about anything went on. I’d been a few times in the past and had admittedly had a bit of fun, but I just hadn’t found the right partner to make it a lot of fun. I wasn’t quite as confident then and wasn’t really a very good Master figure. Now, I was fairly sure that I could do a much better job, especially with my current slave girl.

Today’s fun was going to be a bit more casual. We would start with a drive around the city with stops at all of the better hilltop vantage points, Mt. Sutro, Bernal Heights, Coit Tower, etcetera. Then visits to the Presidio, Fort Point, Baker Beach, Seal Rock and then the zoo. Everywhere we went, Margot was a subject of considerable interest, dressed in her corset and short skirt.

She was wet, cold and soon rather miserable. No raincoat for her today. The life of a disobedient slave girl is an uncomfortable one, I reminded her.

With the wet and cold, we nearly had Baker Beach, the cities best ‘clothing optional’ beach all to ourselves. Still, out of principle, I ordered her to strip for the relatively short naked walk on her leash from the parking area to the frontal beach view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Well, at least a few folks got to enjoy the view along with me. She wasn’t as appreciative.

I toweled her off and redressed her and then fed her lunch at Cliff House, which slightly improved her mood. After another short walk on the beach further south near Taraval (I’ve always liked the old WW-II beach bunkers there), we enjoyed an afternoon at the zoo before we returned to the hotel to shower and get ready for dinner. Margot needed a long hot shower to warm up after a long day in the drizzling cold while being rather underdressed.

For her dinner attire, a one-piece black leather corset dress plus a pair of seven inch spiked heel ‘Ballet’ boots that required her to walk on tip-toes more than suited our needs for her introduction to my old friends. Some other diners might gawk, but her outfit was relatively understated and suitable, despite being terribly sexy and provocative. It took me a while to dress and lace her up and we were nearly late getting out the door because she was having definite trouble walking in her new boots, but the way they made her ass swing was worth every minute of the trouble. I was having so much fun watching her that we barely made it to the restaurant on time.

*******

To say that Rick and Pat took to Margot at first sight would be an understatement. Pat nearly immediately demanded to switch seats with our old fetish friend Garth and his longtime girlfriend (and submissive) Linda, just so that she could sit next to Margot and help me feed her. I should have started to worry right about then. She was looking at my helpless slave girl the exact same way that a dog looks at a steak. When Pat gets an idea into her head, it’s there to stay and she’ll stampede forward no matter what obstacle gets into her way. Clearly, Pat was itching to get her hands… or her whip, on my hapless charge.

We were all, about twenty of us, piled into a private dining room so the abuse of Margot actually could have gotten rather severe. On the other hand, nearly everyone (except for Pat) wanted to talk football and that is what we did for hours, racking up a wine bill for two full cases of some rather tasty but horrifically expensive Northern Italian Cabernet’s that we were guzzling down like mineral water. Pat was even pouring the stuff down Margot as if she were bursa escort bayan trying to put out a fire. After awhile, I’m not sure if she noticed that her corset top had become ‘adjusted’ so that her breasts were now fully hanging out, lovely nipples and all.

Pat’s doing of course, but I had to admit I was admiring the view.

When Margot needed a bathroom trip, Pat snatched up her leash and speedily marched off to the ladies room almost before I could stop her to give her a few necessary instructions.

‘Damn it Pat, take it slow and careful with this one! She a temporary loan and not a long-term project either of us can mold to suit our whims! I need to return her in a couple of days in more or less in the same condition I received her. As far as I know, she’s a virgin and it’s not my responsibility to correct that problem at the moment, or introduce her to lesbian watersports. So don’t do anything exotic, and that definitely includes your usual messy bathroom fun. Just let her piss, and make sure she does her Kegel exercises – that’s all!”

Still, simple instructions notwithstanding, they didn’t return to the table for nearly forty-five minutes. I was about to send a rescue party after Margot when they finally returned, both appeared in about the same condition in which they’d left.

“Your slave’s Kegel’s were extremely sloppy and irregular.” Pat announced, with a good bit of satisfaction. “So I had to explain and then show her, repeatedly, how they were to be properly done. You should never accept any form of sloppiness in a slave, especially when they piss!”

“So, by properly ‘explaining and showing her’, you actually mean you stripped the wench naked at your feet and then firmly ground her face to within an inch of your hairless and massively pierced and tattooed cunt and then pissed to within a millimeter of her nose and mouth?”

“More or less. I’ve got extremely well controlled bladder muscles, so I didn’t splash her… well not much anyway. She soon got the right idea of how I expected it done. I warned her the next time she didn’t clamp off her flow firmly that I was going to make her drink every drop of mine. Fear makes for a very productive teacher sometimes!” Pat giggled.

“Besides,” She added, “I wanted to give her a good bit of my mind. I deal with fancy rich cunts like her nearly everyday that pay me a fortune to drink my piss like it’s the finest champagne and eagerly beg for the caress of my whip. I told your girl that I could read her like an open book; I’ve seen hundreds just like her. I warned her that she would continue to fuck up her life repeatedly until she admitted to herself that she needed a strong Master or Mistress to obey and kneel before their feet. She’s given the orders most of her life, but she won’t find a day’s happiness until she find someone that can order her about. She knows this already, but hasn’t come to accept it yet. She’s a stubborn one, maybe she never will get it and she’ll make everyone’s life a living hell. I just encouraged her to pull her head out of her ass and told her that if she didn’t get her shit straight then eventually someday she would be paying me, or someone like me, for our professional services.”

“Ah, the things that women talk about when they’re alone in the ladies room. Us guys have always wondered!” It wasn’t much of a retort, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear any more of the technical details.

************

If I thought that the evening was over once the dinner had finished up and the horrific restaurant tab was paid, I was surprisingly mistaken. Pat grabbed my arm, and Margot’s leash, and announced that the party was moving down to lower Broadway, to make a full tour of the district of live-sex clubs. Now New Orleans has a seedy underside with some of this sort of thing, but our former LSU coed had undoubtedly never seen this sort of uninhibited wildness before.

The highlight was a little club off on a side street called ‘Toots’, which featured an astonishingly talented (and flexible) gal called Toots in her early forties and who was the co-owner of the joint. She was an exhibitionist extraordinaire who used and abused an extraordinary collection of sex toys, some of which were of gargantuan proportions.

She started off by demonstrating how she could completely deep throat and increasingly large selection of lighted dildoes, up to and including the final monstrous twenty-four inch one straight down into her stomach. Then she began to fill her other orifices with other suitable and increasingly large objects.

Finally, near the end of the show, she requested the assistance of a volunteer, and we volunteered Margot… enthusiastically. Moments later, Margot was on the stage and somehow assisting Toots at inserting a huge butt plug that looked like it was larger than my thigh. How she managed to take it I’ll never now. Then, after it was fully inserted and shown to the applauding audience, Margot was make to assist in taking the object out, to our further applause.

When bursa evi olan escort a beaming Toots asked the audience if her able assistant ought to be rewarded or not, we all stood and cheered. Poor Margot had the proverbial deer in the headlights look and was standing there in shock, but before she had a clue what was going on, her leather dress was at her feet and she was nude before a live audience, mostly of strangers.

Toots had her frightened captive well in hand. She called for the “Comfy Chair” and a padded body harness apparatus was lowered from above the stage. Carefully placing Margot’s feet and hands inside, the harness was raised up lifting Margot from the stage a few feet. The webbing of the harness was fleece padded for comfort, but also firm enough to keep Margot’s legs spread in a very wide ‘V’ pattern that also tilted her back so that her cunt and ass were fully displayed to the audience.

Now, with a virgin clean canvas for the artist to work with, Toots began to play Margot’s innocent body like a concert violinist. She applied baby oil and other lubricants all over Margot’s body slowly and sensually, then she began inserting smaller dildoes and butt plugs, slowly and erotically. Nipples were teased with feathers and then clamps, and the toys started to become larger and more forcefully applied. Margot had a loud orgasm but Toots wasn’t done with her yet and she brought her stage captive off to two more screaming orgasms, once with her fingers and the other with the help of a large vibrator.

With her captive exhausted and limp, Toots concluded the show and let us release and redress Margot, who was a happy but whimpering near boneless heap. Apparently Pat, Sam and Toots were old friends and they were chatting away merrily on stage while I redressed Margot. I took the vibrator out, but Toots told me to keep the butt plug that was still inside her. It was an old favorite of hers that she was delighted to give away to make someone else’s life happier. Besides, she joked; her current favorite plugs were all much larger nowadays.

I was tempted by the offer of some late night dancing at a new local fetish club I’d never been to, but Margot was all worn out. I declined and we caught a cab back to the Fairmont. Still in a bit of a daze, I helped Margot get undressed and I put her to bed, nude but still wearing her butt plug. It looked good in her and since it was only barely smaller in circumference than my cock, I thought it would be an excellent part of her training.

Sadly, I was already beginning to resent that I only had a few more days to spend with her. I was beginning to think of her as ‘my’ slave and not just an object to be used and humiliated.

**********

I didn’t sleep all that well that night. I was having trouble turning my brain off so that I could sleep and it just looped on me most of the night. I got a few hours of rest but I was wide awake at about 5 a.m. when I heard Margot opening my bedroom door and felt her snuggling up on top of the covers next to me, still nude.

Oh, the dilemma. I ought to have pulled off the covers and invited her to join me. We could have talked, snuggled, maybe even fooled around a bit. In fact the odds were next to unanimous that once she was under the bed sheets pressed nude against me, we wouldn’t have managed any talking at all and done some other more interesting things instead, like finding out how tight her cunt was after last nights workout and if my cock was indeed now a near perfect fit inside her ass.

We’ll never know. I chickened out and pretended I was still asleep. Yeah, this was a pretty stupid decision, but if I had had sex with her that would have changed our entire current slave-master relationship. We’d have had some fun, probably a lot of it, but I’d still have to send her home late Monday night and then there would be an empty lonely place left inside us both. Maybe we could work some sort of relationship out, but I somehow doubted it. Some very stupid but persistent voice in the back of my head was telling me that she wasn’t ready for this sort of bond right now. Later maybe, but not now.

Damn killjoy… the problem was I knew that my little voice was right. She was still one seriously messed up young woman, albeit now highly stimulated and aroused from being exposed to some interesting and rather peculiar new philosophies, and a world of fetishes that she’d never even heard, read or dreamed about. She needed time… and I really needed sleep. I think I eventually got some just around 6 a.m.

*******

I reawoke rather later in the morning and my resident suite guest was rather annoyed with me. She was hungry; but not quite starving enough to actually directly prod me awake. Instead she played the more subtle routine of being rather loudly restless upon my bed, rolling over and making loud sighs of boredom.

Note to self: always gag and tie your helpless slave girls up securely at night no matter how tired you are or how well-behaved she had otherwise bursa otele gelen escort been. Especially if you want to have a night (and late morning) of restful sleep.

Since we were rather late this morning, I decided to forego the pleasure of instructing her how to remain still and obedient on a bed instead of thrashing about like an over-sized and underfed wild animal. Instead I sent her off to her shower and I ordered room service breakfast for us both and phoned in to my on-call driver my plans for the day.

An hour later, we trudged downstairs into our waiting car and started the days little adventure barely before the stroke of noon. Originally the plan for today had been a long excursion up across the Golden Gate and up into Marin County to sightsee the redwood trees in Muir Woods, a brief stop at Point Reyes Lighthouse and seashore to, hopefully, see migrating whales, then a longer drive up to the Russian River for lunch followed by a return trip via Napa Valley for a winery tour or two and a nice dinner. Well, we got much too late of a start for all of that.

Instead, our abbreviated grand tour of the area would just consist of Marin and that was really more than enough for a full day’s work. The weather wasn’t too terribly cooperative and I had to provide my increasingly wet, cold and miserable slave girl with her warm leather jacket and frequent stops for hot tea. The next time the Commissioner is feeling generous, I’ll accept the offer of a full sized limo instead of just a nice big luxury sedan. I figured that the limo would be more of a liability driving around in the city than the associated pleasures would be worth, but right now a hot tea machine and a suitably stocked bar would have been worth a great many of the inconveniences.

Margot was really on her absolutely best behavior, I started her off complete with her gag and wrist restraints but somewhere along the way, probably at Point Reyes, both got temporarily taken off and never return. Sloppy slave management, but she was actually a delight to be with all afternoon, and the rather cross mood I started the day in gradually became much more pleasant.

The combination of fog, rain, mist and high surf made it nearly impossible to see much of anything out in the Pacific but Margot swore that she saw a whale briefly surface far off-shore. I didn’t see it, I was probably too busy looking at the way her eyes were sparkling or the way that her mouth smiled. It was one of those moments that body language tells you to reach out and grab your partner and give them a hug and big kiss. This was very much in fact what I very badly wanted to do but somehow I controlled myself and looked away from her until my urge to ravish her had somewhat faded.

Sometimes, the hardest lesson that can be learned in a Dominant/submissive relationship is where the line needs to drawn, and firmly stuck to. Contrary to the belief of most would-be Masters, the needs of the slave sometimes are more important than the random urges of the Master, especially in the early training stages of the relationship. And especially if the inexperienced slave girl isn’t actually really yours. I would only have two more days with her and then her penance will have been served. She’d go home to whatever new life she was going to make for herself… and adding a new sexual relationship to her heaping mound of internal confusion wouldn’t benefit either of us.

Or at least that is what I kept telling myself all afternoon long, like a mantra.

********

For tonight’s party at Rick and Pat’s house, I decided to keep things very much on the defensive. I like and trust Rick, but his wife Pat is just plain incorrigible. She feels a need to control everyone and everything around her, especially at her parties, which have a well-deserved reputation for getting quite wild at times. The difficulty was how I was going to protect Margot from some of the nastier things that can happen to unprotected innocent slave girls, while still giving my Cajun princess a rather suitable shock.

So, for her wardrobe for the evening, I selected the full leather bodysuit. I thought this presented the image of ‘look but don’t play’ quite well, even if just standing was a balancing act for her on those deliciously high ballerina boots. Just for fun, I put her butt plug back in. I loved the way she walked with it inside her.

Naturally, Pat didn’t at all see it my way. She clapped her hands and two of her house-slaves collected Margot and sent her off to be ‘more suitably dressed’.

“Damn it Pat. Stop pulling this shit! She’s not a ‘real’ slave and doesn’t need any introduction to any of the more refined and sordid acts that you consider ‘fun’. I promised that nothing illegal or dangerous would happen to her… and that definitely includes most of what occurs in your private dungeon and bedrooms at your parties.”

“Relax Jeff, I understand and hear and obey your orders for your ‘temporary’ slave girl. She does look like she needs a good gangbang, but it won’t be in my house, tongiht… unless it’s her idea. You want her to be humiliated, and so she shall be! I’m going to let her join my house slaves in playing hostess for the evening. The word will get out fast that she not for ‘play’ and anyone who bends any of my house rules gets thrown out on the street, fast. Happy?”

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