For an Audience

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Ordinarily, I did not need any particular instructions when I arrived at Mistress’ house. I entered her front door, stripped to my panties or nude (if I had been on panty restrictions), and knelt to await her. Usually she showed up almost straight away, though once she had had me wait there for fifteen minutes while she finished what she was doing. That was her right – I was there for her pleasure, not vice versa. There was heaps of pleasure for me, of course, but my pleasure was incidental – her pleasure was the main game.

Today, though, was different. I opened the door and she was standing there waiting for me, not dressed in Mistress mode but still looking sexy. Her black skirt was not quite to her knees, her feet were bare, and she had on a tight top which didn’t quite make it to her waist, giving a teasing flash of the skin of her midriff. “Don’t undress,” she said. “Come with me.”

Her tone wasn’t aggressive or domineering. Amused, more than anything else. I soon found out why.

I followed her upstairs into her living room and found her best friend Katrina sitting on the couch. I had met Katrina a few times, but only in vanilla mode. I had always had a bit of a thing for her – I didn’t like her exactly, but I did want to fuck her. She was no longer the babe she had once been, though. Decidedly chubby now. Still pretty in the face, but honestly not that hot.

“Would you like a drink, Katrina?” Mistress asked. Her friend nodded, and Mistress looked at me pointedly. I smiled and left to the kitchen, pouring them each a glass of wine then returning to the living room. Katrina looked at Mistress and laughed. “You’ve got him well trained.”

Mistress giggled softly. “You don’t know the half of it.” She turned her focus to me. “Slave! Come here and kneel!”

My eyebrows shot up. I had assumed that since her friend was there, we wouldn’t be playing – that I would serve domestically then go home without getting any pleasure. We had certainly not done this in front of others before. I was nervous as hell, but what choice did I have? None that I could see. I took a deep breath, crossed the room and knelt before my Mistress. “Tell Katrina what our relationship is, slave.”

I looked up at her, my face blushing red. “I am a slave, Katrina. Mistress owns my body. She owns my cock. She controls me completely.”

Katrina’s mouth hung wide open. “This is too weird. So he’ll do, like, anything you say?”

Mistress smiled. “Anything. Want a demonstration?”

Katrina nodded enthusiastically. Mistress fixed me with a stern eye. “Stand, and strip to your panties.”

I stood, my face bright red, and removed my shirt, then bent to unlace my shoes and remove them, and my socks. So far I had avoided direct eye contact with either Mistress or Katrina. Mistress knew what I was up to, of course. “Remove your pants slowly, slave, and look at Katrina’s face while you do.”

Reluctantly, I looked into her eyes. She exploded in a wave of giggles, which only added to my humiliation. I undid my belt and fly, and slowly eased my jeans over my hips and down. Her giggles became loud, outright laughter when she saw my blue lacy panties, my cock straining inside them. “Fuck, he really is wearing panties. Lacy girls panties. What a complete sissy!”

Mistress laughed, knowing just how much the humiliation was turning me on, at the same time as I hated it. “It gets better,” she told Katrina. “His cock is my property, right?”

“So it seems!”

“Well, because I am careful with my possessions, I have labeled this one. Slip down your panties, sub toy, and show Katrina your label.”

The label was a new innovation, one I was not yet entirely used to, and one which had a deep, strong psychological impact. I took another deep breath, and slipped off my panties, revealing my semi-hard cock, getting harder by the moment. In large letters, facing me, running from tip to root, were the letters AMANDA, in thick black permanent marker pen. I had been labeled for a week, and refreshed my label every morning and evening. Every time I saw my cock, I was reminded that it wasn’t in fact mine any more – it belongs to Mistress now.

Katrina breathed softly. “That is the hottest fucking thing I ever saw.”

Mistress wasn’t done with me yet. “What does that label say, sub toy?”

“It says Amanda, Mistress.”

“And why does it say that?”

“Because you own it, Ma’am.” Katrina wasn’t laughing any more. She was looking intently, speculating. She suddenly realized this was not just some kinky game – that her best friend really did own my cock.

Mistress was apparently happy with my obedience. She allowed me to kneel back in front of her, and she crossed her legs, giving me the briefest flashing look at her sweet, shaved pussy. It was all I’d get to see of her pussy that day. Her sexy, red-painted toes hovered before me. “You want to kiss my toes, don’t you sub-toy?”

“God yes, Mistress.” I was aware of Katrina’s scrutiny, but so close to Mistress’ toes I just didn’t care.

She wriggled her toes slightly. “You may kiss my big toe, just once.”

It was not what I wanted, of course, but what I wanted was entirely beside the point. I leaned in close, reverentially inhaling the aroma of her feet, then laid down a soft, wet, lingering kiss right on her big toe. The taste of her toe, and the slightly acrid taste of her nailpolish, filled my mouth. I desperately wanted more, but pulled away just before kissing crossed the line and became sucking. Mistress’ eyelids had drooped as she enjoyed my kiss. She opened her eyes now and softly breathed a single word – “Worship.”

I leaned back in and began sucking each of her toes individually, then ran my tongue up the sole of her foot. Her foot wasn’t dirty, but she had been walking around barefoot in the house. It wasn’t pristine. I didn’t care, her foot tasted great. She gave a soft, aroused moan, enjoying the sight of her sub-toy worshipping her feet, and enjoying the feel of my tongue on her.

Katrina moaned softly too, just watching. I’d almost forgotten she was there, and so apparently had Mistress. She looked over at her friend. “Isn’t he a good boy?”

“Hell yes. This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Want to try him?” My eyebrows shot up in amazement, but I continued to worship Mistress’ feet. Begin watched by someone else was one thing, but actually participating? Mistress noticed my concern. “Don’t worry, slave-toy. Your cock still belongs to me and me alone. But Miss Katrina needs her toes worshipped. Now.”

I didn’t stop to think. If I’d thought about it, I’d never have gone through with it. I scampered over in front of her friend, who had both feet on the ground. I knelt low, and planted a soft kiss on each of her feet. She wriggled her toes, clearly ticklish, and I paused. “Stand,” came Mistress’ voice.

I stood, as she asked “Are you turned on, sex-toy?”

My cock, standing out hard, spoke for itself but I answered, “Very much Maam.”

“Do you want to cum?”

“Oh yes Mistress!”

“Begin playing with my cock then, but slowly.”

The exhibitionist in me began to kick in. I had been naked before two fully dressed women for some time now. It was intensely erotic. I began jacking off my cock slowly, enjoying myself, backing off when I was too close to cumming, then speeding up to get myself back to the edge.

“When will he cum?” asked Katrina.

“When, and if, I say.” Mistress replied. “If I decide he doesn’t cum tonight, then he goes home frustrated. Would you like to see him cum?”

“Definitely!” Katrina was enthusiastic, and I could have kissed her out of gratitude.

Mistress had me stand on a towel, and project my hips out to give her and Miss Katrina the best possible view. I continued to masturbate, holding myself close to the edge, moaning and thrusting my hips. It took all my control not to cum. When I was almost bursting, I began begging. “Please, Mistress? May I make your cock cum? Please?”

She looked at Katrina, winked, then gave me permission. “Cum, sub-toy. Cum now.”

I groaned and thrust, my legs turning to rubber, as an orgasm hit me hard and cum spurted from Mistress’ cock. Another spurt, and another. Cum landed in small pools on the towel. I kept rubbing, milking every last bit of pleasure from the orgasm – I never knew when my next one would be.

“He made a mess, didn’t he?” Mistress asked.

“He sure did!” came the reply.

“Watch how he cleans it up.”

Mistress just looked at me and pointed to the floor. I knelt, and began licking up the cum which had already begun soaking into the towel. As usual, I didn’t like the taste much but I loved the nasty reality of being made to eat it. Afterwards, I remained kneeling as Mistress walked to me, wiping a stray drop of cum from my cheek and feeding it to me. “Good boy,” she said. “Put your panties on now. You may go.”

Suddenly embarrassed, I pulled on my panties and my clothing, and bolted for the door. As I closed it behind me, I heard gales of laughter from the two women. Laughing at me. I was dying of embarrassment … but getting hard again already.

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