Under His Control

Rule Number 10: Master will choose what clothes the slave wears.

“But that’s not fair!”

I half-wailed as I threw my short white laced dress on the bed and re-read Master K’s message on my phone.

“Meet me at the office at 12:30pm, Trouble. Your outfit for today is laid out on the couch. No panties, slut.”

Ugh.

Master K knew that I had an important meeting today at a client’s worksite and had chosen a delicate white mini dress for today’s outfit.

I slipped into the dress and look at my reflection in the mirror. The delicate lacy fabric shimmered like freshly fallen snow, draping effortlessly over my tiny body in a silhouette that was both flattering and alluring. The v-shaped neckline was adorned with small white pearls, further highlighting my slightly exposed cleavage that was peeking through. With its tailored waistline and flared skirt, I couldnt help but admire the elegant lady that stared back at me.

To highlight my waify legs, Master K had matched the dress with a pair of my 6-inch Louboutin cream pumps.

While I normally enjoyed wearing this dress, today’s site inspection involves climbing an obscene amount of stairs as I am expected to ensure that the features of the building site was in accordance with the purchase contract I had negotiated for my client. However, the hem of the dress barely covered the middle of my thighs and each movement caused the flared skirt to lift ever so slightly, potentially exposing my wet needy slit.

How am I supposed to focus on my job if my mind was distracted by the possibility of the client or god forbid the tradesmen seeing my needy clit on full display under the thin fabric of the dress?

My heart starts to race as I try and pull the hem of the dress down, a futile attempt to desperately lengthen the fabric. The panic in my chest only betrayed by the arousal that was dripping from my cunt as feelings of humiliation and the shame of being exposed for the needy little slut that I am flow through me.

As I absentmindedly stare at my reflection, I feel my fingers slowly stroke the sides of my breasts through the thin delicate fabric as my mind floods with images of what my client may do to me if he were to see a peak of my wet cunt during today’s meeting.

“But you are a needy little slut, aren’t you Trouble?” I hear Master K’s deep voice in my head as I imagine his strong arms bending me over the railing of the staircase, causing the back of my skirt to lift over my naked ass in front of both my client and the tradespeople. Bringing his mouth close to my ear, he would smirk and say “Now Trouble, let’s show these men just how much you enjoy being treated like a little whore, hmm.”

I would try and squirm away but he would hold me firmly in place. Roughly grabbing my ass, he would spread my cheeks apart and show the room just how wet and glistening my holes were from the humiliation and the shame.

My breathing turns ragged as I feel the cream build up in my needy pussy and drip down my inner thighs.

Before long, I find myself put my hand between my legs and slide my fingers into my throbbing clit.

My strokes were assured following the same rhythm that Master had used on me the night before. My fingers roughly sliding in and out, creating that delicious friction that would bring the release that I so desperately needed.

Ruching up the hem of the dress, I pump my fingers deep into my pussy, faster and faster - focused on the orgasm that was slowly coming to a peak.

BUZZ! BUZZ!

I flinch as the sound of my phone vibrating against the marble bedside table jars me out of my wanton thoughts. Reluctantly, I pull my fingers out of my pussy and answer the call.

“Hello.” I breathily huff out, feeling my swollen cunt aching for release as I sit down on the bed.

“Hey hey.” Gloria, my new intern’s bubbly voice answers back. “I am sorry to bother you but Mr Harrison has asked for an earlier appointment as he has a lunch to attend today. Can you be here in twenty minutes?”

I bite back a groan as I promised Gloria that I will there in twenty minutes. Hanging up the call, I stand up and straighten up my dress.

Glancing back up at my reflection, my frustration and arousal evident on the flushed face that stared back at me. Each movement causing the delicate fabric to brush lightly against my sensitive skin further igniting my need for release.

Not wanting to risk the client seeing my juices drip down my inner thighs, I walked over to my dresser and pull out a pair of nude underwear. Taking a steadying breath, I slip into the underwear and smooth my dress down before heading outside to my car.

What Master doesn’t know, can’t hurt him (or me). Right?