[shop] [2003-08-20] Mistress Takes Me Shopping [Fm]
Mistress Takes Me Shopping, by Rajah Dodger
<rdodger@hotmail.com>, Copyright (c) 2003. All rights reserved,
except that electronic not-for-profit reproduction rights only
are explicitly granted with the stipulation that this authorship
and permission note must remain attached.
Word Count: 1566
"Today, we have shopping to do," Mistress announces gaily.
Mistress snaps the leash to my collar and leads me to the
car, where she opens the door and gestures me in. I slide into
the passenger seat and fasten my seat belt as she closes the
door. She gets in the drivers side and leans over to kiss me, her
tongue exploring the inside of my mouth with both an insistent
demand and an implied promise. I ask where we are going and get a
finger placed against my lips for my pains.
Mistress drives. As is her habit, she tailgates flagrantly.
By the time we pull into the parking lot of the supermarket, my
right leg aches from mashing down on a nonexistent brake pedal.
She opens the door for me, reaches into my lap and tugs the leash
to pull me out of the car. Leading me by the leash, she goes into
the store and gets a shopping cart. We go to the produce section,
attracting occasional outright stares from the customers who
notice the leash and collar.
She gives me a wide grin, and proceeds to check out the
fresh produce. She fondles the pears, hefts and shakes the melons
experimentally, and throws one at me. I catch it and place it
carefully in the shopping cart. She plucks a grape from the case
and places it between my lips. I kiss it while she holds it in
her fingers, then suck it into my mouth for a snack. In short
order she picks out a bunch of bananas, a half pound of
mushrooms, three apples and a bunch of asparagus.
On the next aisle she points out the flour and sugar, both
of which are on a lower shelf. As I lean over to get the bags,
she runs her hand possessively over the seat of my pants. I hear
snickers from somewhere behind me. We get eggs, playtex gloves,
A- and C-cell batteries, two mousetraps,and some cleaning
supplies. When we go to check out, she reaches into my pocket to
get change for the cashier, flexing her fingers suggestively. My
blush does not go unnoticed by the cashier, a young-looking girl
with dimples who looks at Mistress and winks conspiratorially.
I take the two paper bags of groceries and follow the tug of
the leash as Mistress walks briskly back to the car. After
putting the bags on the floor of the back seat, I once again
buckle up in front. Mistress drives us to the lingerie store,
where she informs me she has a special purchase to make. When we
walk in, the clerk barely gives me a second glance. Mistress has
me stand by the door while she goes to the clerk, murmuring
quietly. She turns to me and snaps her fingers. When I approach,
she unclips my leash and tells me to go to the dressing rooms.
The clerk follows me in and directs me to the podium in
front of the triple mirrors. "Drop the pants," she directs. I
look frantically for Mistress, but she is not around. I swallow
hard and unfasten my pants, sliding them down in a puddle at my
feet. According to Mistress' directions, I am wearing a pair of
pouch briefs, and between Her ministrations earlier and my
position here, my cock is filling the pouch.
The woman, looking bored, takes out a cloth tape measure and
runs it around my waist, jots a number down, then wraps it around
my hips, sliding the tape across the front of my pouch and
catching it under the head of my cock. She writes down another
number, then holds one end of the tape just under my navel and
slides the other end down between my legs and up through the
crease of my ass. She holds it there for a few seconds while I
try not to squirm too much, then releases it with a curt "You may
go." I'm blushing at my uncontrolled erection, and I hurry to
put my pants back on.
When I get back out into the shop, Mistress is standing by
the cash register and I join her there. She re-attaches my leash
as the clerk comes out of the rear of the store with a package.
"This should suffice" is the clerk's only comment as Mistress
pays for the purchase.
Once again Mistress attacks the city streets, but I behave -
- the whiteness of my knuckles is the only evidence of my
concern for our safety. Soon enough we pull into Her driveway,
and she unclips the leash before unlocking the car doors. She
takes the small package, leaving me to follow with the grocery
sacks. I put the groceries away in the kitchen, and from another
room I hear her remind me that the dishes need doing. I load the
dishwasher and start it, hand wash those few items that can't be
machine washed, and go to the living room to present myself.
Mistress is very particular about this part of my routine. I
must disrobe leaving only my shirt on, stand in the middle of the
living room facing the sofa, clasp my hands behind my back and
hold my legs apart in parade rest. Today she walks around me,
slapping my stomach to get me to pull it in a bit tighter,
clucking at the condition of my shirt where the backsplash from
the kitchen sink caught me. "I must get you a proper apron," she
mutters. I straighten my carriage, but my mind is distracted by
the package now sitting on the sofa. Mistress sees the direction
of my gaze and smiles evilly.
"Display, Pet". I put my hands on my hips and bend my knees
outward into a half-crouch. I hold this position as She plays
with my equipment, hefting my balls, flicking her thumbnail
against the head of my cock, an enigmatic smile crossing her face
as I become erect despite my efforts.
"Stick out your tongue!"
I open my mouth and extend my tongue. She slides the shaft
of her crop along the surface, swabbing the back of my tongue
with the tip of the crop. I swallow hard but don't gag. Mistress
is proud of my command of my gag reflex and frequently gives me
the chance to demonstrate it.
"Arms Up!"
I stand up and raise my arms over my head, lacing the backs
of my fingers together. She presses the tip of the crop to my
lips and I kiss it, lavishing the same care on the damp leather
that I would give to her palm or her sole. She slides the crop
into my underarm, making me squirm, then *pop*s me with it. She
strokes the stinging spot briefly, then rains quick sharp smacks
up the inside of that arm and down the other.
She stops, and I catch my breath. She moves out of my sight,
walking quietly behind me and leaving me facing the plain
wallpaper. The crop taps my ass, and I reflexively tense up, then
force myself to relax. *Splat* She catches me on the meat of my
left buttock, and I wince at the sharp sting.
"Count!"
"One, thank you ma'am," I respond. *Splat* "Two, thank you
ma'am" as she gives my right buttock a matching stroke. She
alternates between sides and paints splotches of pain on either
side of my rear crease, waiting every time just long enough for
me to relax but not for the previous sting to fully fade.
Finally, after twenty-five strokes and thank-yous, she stops.
I stand, arms quivering above my head, my ass cheeks hot and
throbbing. A few tears have made their way down my face.
"You have earned a present," she says quietly from behind
me. "Go over to the sofa and open it."
I walk to the sofa (moving gingerly for my sore bottom) and
take up the package, tearing off the paper and tossing it
properly in the nearby wastebasket. Opening the box i find a
stretchy lace-trimmed sky blue thong. Her voice comes from
behind me, kindly but no less demanding for that, "Go ahead Pet,
put on your present." The thong is quite narrow in front -- so
much so that my balls spill out on either side of it. At the top
it curves around slightly to cup and support my shaft, at least
all but the cockhead which is exposed above the top edge. The
back strap nestles between my cheeks, pushing them out slightly
to catch the soothing flow of room air. I turn around to face
Her, my cheeks hot as I picture what I must look like, this
feminine garment clashing with my defiantly protruding male
feature.
She murmurs her approval, and proceeds to blindfold me and
lead me to the wall where hooks are mounted up near the ceiling.
First one hand then the other are lifted and put into oft-used
cuffs before she steps back from me. Her fingers tap sharply
between my legs, and I quickly slide my feet outward even as i
feel my cock pulse and press upward a bit more into the open.
"That's a good boy," she remarks, "they will quite enjoy you, I'm
sure."
I listen with sudden trepidation to the fading sound of her
heels going into the other room as the doorbell rings...
*****
///// Completed 08-20-2003 by Rajah Dodger rdodger@hotmail.com