Aug 28 Thursday Like most things in life that don't go as planned, it seemed like a good idea at the time. I was feeling old and worn out, longing for some excitement, thinking that I was over the top and headed down hill even though 40 was a long way off. Men go through a mid-life crisis at times like this. Women just get depressed and wonder how far away menopause is. I decided to use the spa gift certificate that Frank bought me for Christmas. I needed a pick-me-up and a massage and manicure seemed to fit the bill. I was early for my appointment and occupied my time reading the magazines in the waiting room. Articles like "Ten sure ways to light his fire" and "Guaranteed ways to improve your sex life" are the stock in trade of those glossy wastes of paper, yet there I was reading them anyway. Frank had sprung for the whole package, including a full hot wax job. I think that part was more for him than me. Since I doubted that I could relax during a massage with the thought of an approaching bikini waxing appointment on my mind, I decided to get the painful stuff out of the way first. Halfway through the leg waxing I decided to forgo the bikini waxing. I'm a real wimp when it comes to pain, but the gal working on my legs said "It's your choice, but if my guy buys me something sexy to wear, my gift to him is to wear it. If he treated me a full spa package I would treat him to the benefits of the wax job." I asked her if it really made much difference and she said "It's great being smooth. Sex is definitely better. I wax myself all the time and my guy just loves it!" I screwed up my courage and told her to do it all. If guys knew how much it hurts, they would thank us more often and in more substantial ways. Maybe guys should have to get a wax job before getting married. Then they would understand things better. The masseuse was a guy. I had expected a woman and was a bit taken aback. Sure, the guy was a professional and probably gay from the look of him, but I just don't like surprises when I'm wearing nothing but a towel and disposable slippers. He was very good. Better than any woman masseuse I have experienced. His big hands felt good on my back. There were no sexual advances on his part, but those magazine articles I read in the lobby had my mind in the gutter. I was not only relaxed but seriously aroused by the time he finished. Several hours and a buffet lunch later I was done. It was back to the humdrum of the daily grind. While lugging a 20 pound bag of dog food up to the register at Petco, I noticed the fancy leashes and collars. One leash was a black colored chain with black web loops and a black clip. It reminded me of something in one of the articles I read that morning. On an impulse, I bought it. By the time I got to the car, it seemed silly and way too kinky for me. Still, the more I thought about it, the more I thought it would be a good way to spice up my sex life. It was number 5 on the magazine's list. I stopped at Home Depot and found just what I needed, a pair of tiny black and brass padlocks, keyed alike. Once I got home I felt possessed by the idea. I dug through my closet and found my highest black heels. They are strappy sandals with 5" heels and an ankle strap. The ankle strap was broken on the left one, so I hadn't worn them in years. I slipped the ankle straps out of the loops in the back and went down to Frank's workshop in the basement. I cut the clip end off the leash with bolt cutters and put the chain through the loop where the ankle strap was. I put one on and measured a length of leash chain around my ankle, snipping it off with the bolt cutters. I snapped the padlock through the ends of the chain and examined my handiwork. It just didn't look right with the lock on the inside, outside or over my instep. I snipped off a few more links and put the lock through one end of the chain, the ankle strap loop and through the other end of the chain. That looked right. The lock hung inconspicuously over my heel, just noticeable enough to look a bit kinky, like something one might find in one of those so- called "Adult" boutiques. I counted the links and cut a chain for the other shoe and tried it on. They were perfect for what I had planned, kinky without being too outrageous. I went back up to the bedroom to pick out an outfit to go with the shoes. Nothing seemed right. Then I realized that Frank would be deciding what I would be wearing and all I needed was to figure out what to wear when I sprang my plan on him. I settled on a pair of denim shorts, my sexiest push-up bra, a T-shirt and a red cotton thong. I unlocked the shoes and put them in a gym bag. Then I taped each of the 2 keys to a piece of cardboard, put them in envelopes, addressed them to myself and put them in the gym bag with the shoes. Aug 29 Friday Day One Frank didn't notice the bikini waxing because I wore a big baggy tee shirt to bed. I didn't sleep very well that night. I was torn between chickening out and taking the leap. On one hand, I trust Frank completely. On the other hand, I really don't know what lurks deep in the part of a guy's mind where the fantasies reside. The shorts and tee shirt got noticed only because of the bra. I don't think Frank suspected anything was up until I asked him to drive me to the corner mail drop box. At that point I decided to go through with it. I still had time to chicken out, but hoped I wouldn't. I mailed one of the envelopes and had Frank drive me to another mailbox where I mailed the other. At that point he really wanted to know what I was up to. I took a deep breath and got the gym bag out of the back seat. I took off my flip-flops and put on the heels. When I fastened the locks, I really had his attention. He nearly hit the car in front of us. He pulled over and said "OK. Spill it. What are you up to?" I gave him my carefully rehearsed speech "I just mailed the keys to these padlocks to myself. I'm going to be your sex slave for a day or so. I'll do anything you order me to do until the key for the lock comes in the mail. I'm up for anything you want me to do. What is your first wish?" He just stared at me in shock. Then he asked me what the second envelope was for. I told him that was my backup in case the Post Office lost the first one. I wasn't going to be his sex slave forever. Not knowing how long it would be makes it sexier. He smiled and said "It might be longer than your think. Those boxes get picked up around 10 and it's already 10:20. They won't pick up again till Tuesday, so you won't get the key back till Wednesday at the earliest, Thursday or Friday is more likely." It was my turn to look shocked. He thought about it for a few seconds and said "Our first stop is the drug store. We are getting some hair removal stuff and you are about to loose your bush." I replied "Too late. I lost it yesterday." He said "I mean all of it." I said "So do I." He said "Let me see." I said "Here in the car?" He said "You did say you would do anything I want. Now put the shorts in the gym bag." I hesitated and he said "NOW! Or they go out the window." I slipped them off. Somehow this wasn't what I had in mind when I was planning this. He added "panties too and while you are at it, put the shirt and bra in the bag too." Then smiled and got moving. Once I was buck naked in the car in broad daylight he told me put the shorts and bra back on and to leave the T-shirt and panties in the bag. I couldn't believe that I had completely forgotten that the Post Office would be closed over Labor Day weekend. I was going to get three times whatever it was that I had set myself up for. The magazine was right. It is sexier and more arousing when you don't know just when it will be over. I just hoped that he didn't have much walking planned. I wasn't looking forward to 5 days in heels, 24 hours a day. Our first stop was the mall. He had me put the bra in the bag and wear the T-shirt. By lunchtime I had a bag full of shorter skirts than I ever thought I would try on, much less wear, some really skimpy tops and the smallest thong style bathing suit I had ever seen. He sent me to the ladies room to put on the shortest of the skirts and a thin top that showed my nipple bumps, and then we had lunch. The vinyl of the bench seat was cold against my ass, very little of which was on the fabric of the skirt. I asked him if he was planning on getting me underwear. He thought it was a good idea, but it turned out to be a tease. After picking out some sheer g-string panties, he wouldn't let me put them on. Then we stopped at a shop that sold body piercing jewelry and he looked over the whole case. I was starting to worry, but it was another tease. As much as it worried me, I found it arousing at the same time. The thought that he might have me get my nipples pierced was a rush. I realized that I didn't even know if he liked that sort of thing or not. I really had no idea what I was in for. This whole thing was supposed to be to get him aroused and I'm sure he was, but I was facing far too many unknowns. For some reason he put the thong swimsuit in his pocket when we got in the car. Our next stop was a topless bar. The sign said topless, but the dancers wore tiny tops and thongs. There I sat, bare ass on cold vinyl, wondering if I would soon be up on stage striping down to that tiny thong bikini in front of the dozen or so guys that sat there leering at the dancer on stage. We stayed there, for over 2 hours, just watching the dancers strip. I wondered if he was working up the nerve to order me up on stage or giving me time to see what I was expected to do when I got up there. When he went over to talk to the manager, I figured it would be my turn up there on stage, with those horny guys leering at me as I slowly slipped my blouse over my head, unzipped the skirt and let it drop to the stage and dance nearly naked for the enjoyment of the small but creepy looking audience. Any pretense of modesty was about to be lost, discarded like a strippers costume on the stage floor. It was thrilling, like walking around in a minefield, having no idea what would happen or when. He handed me the thong bikini and told me to go to the ladies room and put it on under my clothes. It was unlike any ladies room I was ever in. It doubled as the dancers changing room with lockers and a makeup table. I took a pee, put the thong on, took a deep breath and went back out. Frank took my hand, kissed me on the cheek and walked me around to the gap in the bar between the stage and the dancers changing room. I was ready. I was all pumped up emotionally. My heart was pumping. I could do it. I had enough drinks in me to do it. I would do it. I wanted to do it. I was going to do it! I was going to do it with a smile on my face and almost nothing on my body! Frank led me right past the gap and out the door. The bright sun was harsh after the dim lights of the bar. I actually felt let down, somehow deprived of something. It was frustrating, like almost reaching an orgasm and being interrupted at the last second. Frank sure knew how to tease me. Frank had me strip naked in the car and put on one of the more conservative skirts and a blouse with pretty faux pearl buttons. I was covered, but still felt naked without a bra or underwear. Our next stop was my favorite restaurant, Outback steakhouse. We had to wait for nearly an hour before we were seated. We sat on the bench on the porch outside the door like we usually did when we had no reservations. This time, I had to sit with and my feet flat on the floor and my knees at least 6 inches apart. I don't think anybody walking past the porch saw up my skirt, but who knows. Part way through dinner frank had me undo the top button on the blouse, then another and another till I was unbuttoned to just below my breasts. I watched my posture and how I moved but it kept my attention on my body. The thought that I might accidentally show something was not what was worrying me. It was what Frank would order me to show that was on my mind. Desert came and Frank had me undo 2 more buttons. I just knew it would be a tease, just like the topless bar. I was actually relaxing because I knew he would let me keep the bottom button fastened. It wouldn't open wide when I walked. If I moved carefully all I would show was cleavage on the way out. Then Frank motioned for me to undo the last one. This time it looked like I was going to be embarrassed. I was ready to go topless in the bar, but this was different. This was a public place. Still, I promised Frank that I would do whatever he told me for as long as it took for the keys to arrive. It was only twenty feet to the door. Topless is socially unacceptable but legal in this state. I wasn't going to get arrested and a couple dozen people will have something to talk about. When Frank told me to fasten the button at nipple height, I was both relived and disappointed. Momentarily, I was tempted to just strip naked right there in the parking lot and get it over with. But I didn't. I just got in the car. Only twenty four hours ago I would never have considered going topless outside my own house and now I actually felt an urge to strut around naked in a parking lot. Of course I wouldn't do it. I'm chicken. If Frank told me to, I would. That's what I promised. I was confused to say the least. It was a relief when Frank had me give him a blow job right there in the parking lot. At least I knew what was expected of me. Back home, after another blow job, I fell asleep snuggled up close to Frank. August 30 Saturday Day two While I made breakfast, naked except for the heels, Frank took a pair of my jeans down the basement and came back with a smile on his face. I heard the washing machine running and wondered what he was up to. I showered after breakfast, glad that I picked high heeled sandals instead of pumps for my little adventure. At least they don't fill up with water. We had a barbecue to go to, so I thought the day would be reasonably normal. I would be pretty much off the hook for the day. Frank had other ideas. When I got out of the shower, I found the bikini top and what was left of my jeans on the bed. Frank had cut them off and ran them through the washer and dryer so they would fuzz at the cut edge. I tried them on and found that a handful of my ass hung out on both sides. The bikini top straddled the line between barely big enough and not quite big enough. It would do the job, if I didn't sneeze. I went downstairs and Frank confirmed what I had expected. I was going to a barbecue where all our friends will see much more of me than usual. I asked him if I had any options. He said "Sure. You can wear the thong bottoms instead of the shorts or you could go topless." I didn't comment, but I found myself thinking about both choices. Other than a few comments like the one from Jean, "Stacy, that's a new look for you, isn't it." To which I responded "Frank dressed me today." nobody seemed to care. By the end of the day, I was very comfortable with my ass hanging out. Frank seemed satisfied with sneaking off for a quick blowjob after lunch and another at a rest stop on the way home. It looked like he ran out of ideas. I was running out of patience. I needed sex and was getting nothing. August 31 Sunday Day three While in the shower, the heel of my right shoe just came off. Frank said it looked like the glue wasn’t waterproof. He took out his pocketknife and cut both loops where the chain was locked to the shoes and took off my shoes. I had a wicked blister developing on my left foot and he offered to let me off the hook temporarily. All I had to do was promise him two things. I would spend one and a half days, sometime in the future, wearing the chains for every day that the keys didn’t arrive. Also I couldn’t wear jeans, slacks, shorts, underwear, pantyhose or pubic hair till I fulfilled my promise. The blister was in a tender spot and if it opened, it would hurt like hell, so I agreed to his terms with the stipulation that we go straight to bed for sex including some 69. Besides, I was having fun and as long as it could be one day at a time, it was no big deal. September 1 Monday Day four We had a barbecue in our back yard, just the two of us. This is the second day off the hook but without the keys. Now I owe him 3 days. It feels strange not to have anything covering my crotch. Not unpleasant, just strange, but less strange than it did on Friday. September 2 Tuesday Day five The mailman came and went. No key today. Frank went to work. I went grocery shopping. The blister never opened and is almost healed, so I wore heels to the store. Somehow, flats just didn’t seem right with a skirt, at least not while I felt so sexy with my new bald spot exposed to the air. Went to Victoria’s Secret after lunch for some stockings and a garter belt. At least it will look like I’m wearing pantyhose. September 3 Wednesday Day six Frank went to work, I went window shopping, still no key. Now I owe frank 6 days. The sales guy at Lowe’s was quick to help. Heels and a skirt definitely get a guy’s attention these days when skirts are less common than a generation ago and 5-inch pumps are rarely seen outside a nightclub. I narrowed down the choices and brought home a Pella brochure for Frank. He has final say on the new living room window because he’s installing it. My feet felt better walking with stockings on. It wasn’t as hard to slip them on under the ankle chains as I thought it would be. I’m pretty comfortable with nothing under my shirt now. Still, it is a distraction and I’m thinking of sex much more than I used to. September 4 Thursday Day seven One key came this morning. Frank won’t know that it’s here because I dropped it behind the bookcase before he got home from work. I still don’t know why I did it. I just did. September 5 Friday Day eight The second key was supposed to get here today. It shouldn’t be more than a day behind the first, even with delays from the Labor Day holiday. Maybe it’s lost. I’m tempted to get a coat hanger and fish the first key out from behind the bookcase. Now I owe him 9 days. September 6 Saturday Day nine There is no mail delivery today. If I produce the key, frank will suspect that I stashed it. I don’t want him to know what’s going through my mind. Actually, I’m not sure what’s going on in my mind. I should have fished it out yesterday while he was at work. Frank took me to a movie. Since I’m off the hook, I picked out my clothes. I didn’t dress as sexy as Frank would have dressed me, but I did go with a shorter skirt than I normally would have. He slid his hand up between my legs and rubbed my “bald spot” which is just now showing a hint of hair. I let him do it and rested my hand over his dick, occasionally stroking it through the denim of his jeans. I felt like a teenager for an hour. September 7 Sunday Day ten There is No mail delivery on Sundays. I owe him 12 days now. I should never have even dropped the key behind the bookcase. We went to Outback for dinner. I wore a low cut blouse, push-up bra, pleated skirt along with stockings and a garter belt. Frank rarely takes me out, but for the last week he’s been really attentive and romantic. September 8 Monday day eleven The key came today. Just in case it didn’t, I retrieved the one behind the bookcase right after Frank left for work. Frank noticed the ankle chains were gone as soon as he got home. I owe him 13 and a half days. He rounded it down to an even dozen. I wonder if he is as into this as I am? My imagination has been running wild and he let me off the hook for a day and a half. Does he really want to continue having me play the submissive sex toy? It started as a one time impulse for me and has now captured my imagination. Frank, on the other hand, really got into it at first yet now seems indifferent. Maybe he just ran out of ideas and will take sometime to think up something really good. October 14 Tuesday Updating this Blog on the same day I do things is really annoying. Starting with this update, I’m going to update a day or so late. That will give me time to think about things and be somewhat more coherent in my thoughts. Frank and I did yard work over the long weekend. We did the usual end of summer stuff, clean out gutters, shut off outside faucets, roll up hoses, paint, caulk, minor repairs, take out screens and put in storm windows. It was different this year. Since I’m in skirts now, Frank got less work done. He held the ladder while I cleaned the gutters. The view was better from his point of view. I got off on it bit, purposely wearing a shorter denim skirt than I should have. Sunday was particularly warm and I wore a baggy, cropped, sleeveless T-shirt that exposed my boobies when I bent over. He can see me naked any time he wants, yet he seemed to enjoy momentary glimpses more. If we weren’t so sore from yard work, I think the sex would have been great. October 23 Thursday The high heels and ankle socks I ordered on-line came yesterday. I never though that I would buy something that sexy for myself. They didn’t have my size, so I got a half size larger. That turned out to be a good thing. Ballet boots have heels so high that you literally walk on your toes. With the laces tight, my weight was on my heel and instep, with my toes barely touching. Still, they are NOT hiking boots! Hiking boots will take you twenty miles. Dressy flats will take you several miles. Heels will take you 100 yards. Ballet boots are good for 200 feet if you are lucky. They are sexy as hell, but don’t plan on walking very far! I practiced walking around the house in them, but was still unsteady when discomfort made me take them off. I stashed them in the back of the closet. I don’t want to give Frank any ideas involving shoes that are that uncomfortable. Frank has been more cuddly and romantic than he used to be, but has seemed to fall back nearly into the same routine. Mentally, I’m still not comfortable without underwear, but when I tried on a pair today, just to see how much difference it made, they felt uncomfortable physically. I tried on a cotton thong and one of the tiny g-strings frank bought back on Labor Day weekend and they didn’t feel much better. When I wore panties 24/7, even to bed, they didn’t feel uncomfortable. Now even the most delicate ones feel like they dig in. If Frank doesn’t start using up his 12 days soon, I’m going to start picking days myself. We didn’t specify who got to pick the days. Keeping with my deal, I’m shaving my pubes every other day. There is something about shaving pubes that feels good. I don’t mean just the increased sensitivity of the skin. It’s more mental, like scraping off the old and starting fresh every day. October 27 Monday Frank told me that he bought our Halloween costumes for this year. We usually pick them out together. I asked what he bought for me and he smiled and said “You’ll see.” November 4 Tuesday Friday, after Frank left for work I noticed a pair of seriously high heels and a package of fishnet tights on the bed along with the ankle chains. It was obvious that whatever he had planned for me was going to happen at our friends’ annual Halloween party tonight. After lunch, I put on the fishnet and locked on the heels. I was worried that I would be embarrassed in front of our friends, yet I hoped he had something interesting planned as I was feeling bored. I found myself wondering if the fishnet and heels was my costume. Could he possibly want me to go to the party wearing only fishnet tights, heels and a smile? The thought did excite me. I wondered if I could walk into the party like that. I decided that I could and would. If I had any subconscious doubt, I would not have put on the locks. At least that is what I told myself. It was a French Maid costume he bought for me. He was the lord of the manor. It was a set. The first thing I noticed was how short it was, about 1 inch below crotch height in the front. A look in the mirror showed that it didn’t quite cover my ass in the back. I pointed that out to Frank and he “fixed it” by untying the apron and retying it with the hemline of the dress in the bow. That exposed most of my ass. The half inch mesh of the fishnet didn’t hide a thing. I figured it was another tease. He would untie the hem before we got to the party. He was just going to make me worry till we got there. There was no way he was going to make me show my ass in front of all our friends. On the other hand, I had decided that I could walk in the door in just the fishnet and heels or at least I thought I could. I was wrong about it being a tease. Brenda met us at the door and we went in. Brenda took one look at my costume and said “Do you know that your hem is in the bow?” I replied “Yes, it’s…” she interrupted with “It’s because Frank dressed you, isn’t it?” I just shook my head. She said “Me too.” I said “Frank dressed you?” “No silly. Ed picked out my outfit.” She replied. She actually looked relived. The little skirt of the stripper’s costume Ed picked for her showed the lower half of her ass. At least she could raise her arms over her head without the hemline in the front showing her crotch. She had a g-string underneath. I just had fishnet that wouldn’t trap a guppy. Compared to us, Britt, as Princess Leia from the sail barge scene, was overdressed. Halloween is the one time of the year that you can wear lingerie and some kind of animal ears and not be called a slut, so I wasn’t too embarrassed. Still, I was a little uncomfortable. I stayed seated most of the time so nobody saw my ass more than necessary but after a few drinks I loosened up a bit. Several times forgot that I had to keep my knees tightly together. I don’t think anybody noticed. Every time Brenda bent over all the guy’s eyes were on her ass. As hostess of the party, she was always moving. We were both tired after the party and went right to bed when we got home, sans sex. Frank unlocked me first thing in the morning. I took a shower and shaved my pubes before breakfast. I wanted sex and Frank was making breakfast. I was getting pissed of at him. Luckily, he wasn’t done with me yet. The heels, chains, locks and choker from the French maid outfit were laid out on the bed. I got dressed in my outfit for the day, skimpy as it was. After breakfast, Frank handed me my coat and we went grocery shopping. That wasn’t what I had in mind. It wasn’t a total bore though. Being buck naked under the coat in the totally normal setting of the grocery store was an interesting experience. After that, we went clothes shopping. That was more fun. He had me come out of the dressing room to show him each outfit. Several times, he wasn’t the only guy there. Walking out in something sheer or skimpy, not knowing if some stranger would be there was a rush. Still, it didn’t compare to the rush I got at the strip club. Nothing he has come up with compared to that rush, though the French maid costume came close. Wearing my coat into the dressing room must have looked suspicious on the security camera. On the way out of the store, security stopped us and said that he had to ask us a few questions. Looking back on it, he was probably trying to delay us till another security guard checked the dressing room. I had left the last outfit in the dressing room and, not seeing me bring it out, must have assumed it was under my coat. Frank said “Show him you have nothing to hide.” I still can’t believe I did it, but I undid the 4 buttons while holding it closed, then spread it wide open and held it open for what seemed like and eternity, but was probably 3 seconds. Something crashed to the floor by the registers and the security guard apologized profusely. My heart was pounding and I felt like I had run a mile by the time we walked to the car. Though short lived, it was a rush as good as the strip club. I just had to dump some of the adrenalin and let out a scream that startled Frank. I wanted sex and Frank wanted lunch. I had to settle for sucking on the straw in my Coke. I still can’t believe that Frank didn’t want even a blow job in the Mc Donald’s parking lot. I had never felt so horny in my life! We went for a walk around a lake near home and then, feet throbbing, we stopped at an A&W for dinner. The cool breeze up under my coat and the feel of the fleece liner tickling my nipples had me so horny I would have just about anything with anybody for the promise of an orgasm. Back in the car, I unbuttoned my coat and started to play with myself. Frank told me to stop. He didn’t want me satisfied yet. He didn’t take care of me at home either. I’m getting used to sleeping in heels. I slept so soundly that I didn’t even wake up when Frank unlocked me. I was so frigging horny in the morning that if Frank didn’t want sex, I’d figure out a way to rape him. Can a woman rape a guy? Would you pull a knife on him, grab his dick and say “Use it or loose it”? Can a guy perform under that sort of pressure? I’m sure some guys could “rise” to the occasion. I showered and shaved my pubes. I could hear Frank moving around downstairs. The chains weren’t on the bed like he wanted me to use them. I decided to go “Nuclear”. I dug out the Ballet boots from the back of the closet and put them on with the black lace ankle socks. Then I found the big vibrator that I got as a gag gift years ago. I loaded it with fresh batteries, moistened it, and slipped it in. Then I went down stairs to ignore Frank. I found a big bunch of roses on the dining room table next to a white silk blouse, black pleated mini skirt and the chains. On the floor was a pair of 5-inch heels, high, but slightly lower than I’d been in for two days. He said “Wanna go out for breakfast? I figured you would want the lower heels today, but I see you already picked out shoes.” I just said “OK.” Then I put on the clothes, chains and locks first. Since the Ballet boots didn’t have a loop in the back I positioned the lock in the front, clipping it through the laces. It was more noticeable there, but those shoes were so noticeable that the locks didn’t standout at all. I didn’t tell Frank about the vibrator because he didn’t want me satisfied. I didn’t go to the bathroom and take it out because I was feeling defiant. It wasn’t doing much for me anyway. About halfway through my Grand Slam breakfast at Denny’s, the vibrator finally had an effect. A major effect. Frank noticed me breathing heavy and asked what was wrong. I told him about the vibrator and he smiled. I wanted to go to the ladies room and take it out. He said that since he didn’t want me satisfied and I knew that, I would have to be punished. He told me to sit there and finish my breakfast. After a 3 day long state of horniness, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to just sit there quietly and nibble on my pancakes. I put a napkin between my legs in case I pissed myself. I stuffed my mouth with pancakes hoping to stifle a scream. It worked, but it must have looked like I was having a seizure. I was never so embarrassed in my life. Nobody said anything. It’s not polite to comment about a serious medical condition like epilepsy. The shoes and short skirt were evidence that it was something other than a seizure but the way I staggered out of there, unsteady in those shoes, could have looked like the aftermath of a seizure. Whatever they thought, I was embarrassed. I had a serious orgasm in Denny’s, with people watching. Back home, Frank had me strip to my shoes, spread my legs, bend over and grab my ankles. I had though my punishment for disobedience was the embarrassment. It was 20 smacks on the ass with the fly swatter. The smacks on my ass hut, but the ones where he swung from below and hit my pubic area were strangely pleasant. They hurt, but it felt good at the same time. I’m not into pain. I hate going to the dentist. I even hate getting a flu shot. Frank was not satisfied with just spanking me. He told me that the punishment for escapees from chain gangs was to get permanent leg shackles and chains. I had seen the movie Cool Hand Luke. I knew what he was talking about. He decided that I would get a body piercing to remind me not to do it again. On one hand, I had brought it on myself, I did want my Frank to push my limits and I did defy his wishes while the chains were on. On the other hand, most body piercing hurt! When we got to the piercer, frank had me take off my coat and stand there buck naked while he picked out my new jewelry. I didn’t find out what it was till I was in the chair. In spite of the numbness from the ice, that big needle hurt like hell! It surprised me how little blood there was. The piercer showed me how to clean and disinfect it till it healed. I now have a ¾ inch 14- gauge gold bead ring in my left nipple! Frank let me take off the shoes at bedtime after I gave him a BJ. Then he finally fucked me! Frank left the ankle chains on me in the morning when he left for work, with the instructions that I had to stay naked all day except for the ballet heels if my feet got cold. I tried to keep busy all day to keep my mind off my throbbing nipple and the chill in the air. I actually put the heels on for a few hours after lunch. Somehow I felt more dressed in the heels. I shaved my pubes twice and did my hair. I was hoping that Frank would take me out to dinner. He didn’t mention what he wanted for dinner, like he usually did, and I still had the chains on, so I was assuming we were going out. He came home with Chinese take out and a Japanese rope bondage kit. We ate and tried out a dozen uncomfortable positions. It was fun being helpless for sex, but I still felt vaguely unsatisfied. When I woke up this morning the chains were gone. There are now 8 days left on my tab. December 1 Monday It’s been an interesting week. The nipple piercing is healed and it doesn’t hurt anymore. It took about a week for me to get comfortable with it. Now it’s like it is part of me. The only problem is that I feel lop sided. I have 2 nipples and only one ring. Frank put the chains and a pair of heels on the bed the Saturday morning before Thanksgiving. I knew the routine. If he didn’t put out clothes with the chains, he wanted me naked. We spent the weekend Christmas shopping. I’m pretty comfortable now wearing only my long coat and heels. Both days we stopped at the topless bar, where we went when I first put on the chains, for a few drinks before going home. He didn’t have a g-string or top with him so I knew I wouldn’t have to get up and dance. It was kind of a letdown, not having my imagination run wild while wondering what he would have me do. Monday morning I got an idea. I skipped shaving my pubes. I figured he would notice and I would have to be punished. I would get a few smacks on the ass and a trip to the piercer for the right nipple ring. I really hated being lop-sided. Things went a bit different than planned. Frank used the rope bondage kit to tie my ankles to the bedposts and tie my wrists together. Once it was adjusted so that my ass was barely on the bed, he just left me there for about 10 minutes. It seemed much longer. Then he came back, lubed up the vibrator and stuck that in me. After another 10 minutes he came back with a riding crop. All he said was fuzzy pussys get flogged and proceeded to give me 10. Then I went and shaved and Frank left for work. Tuesday I tried it again. I ended up with my wrists tied to my ankles and leaned against the wall with my legs spread uncomfortably wide while he gave me 20. Thursday morning I actually did forget to shave. I got up early to start the turkey and it disrupted my morning routine. I found out how flexible I am. I ended up with my ankles tied behind my head and my wrists tied under my ass while he gave me 30. 10 is arousing. 20 is kinky. 30 hurts! I was relived when he said that it was obvious that I needed a more permanent reminder and that we would visit the piercer on Sunday. I felt it was worth getting 60 with the riding crop so I could get the right side nipple done. Thanksgiving dinner was a hoot! Frank left the chains on me so I wore ankle boots to cover them. It was strange wearing no bra, panties or pantyhose around my family. I was worried that I would forget to keep my knees together and someone would ask about my lack of under-attire. Things went as boringly normal as usual. Normal, until my sister decided to hang around for awhile after everyone else had left. She was having problems at home and didn’t have her husband in tow like usual. My sister and I don’t get along and Frank absolutely loathes her. She used to cut the hair off her dolls and tell mom that I did it. I would catch hell and she would get my dolls. I got my ass spanked and her bald dolls. She always got the upper hand. I never could stand up to her. As we got older, she got far more creative and vindictive. High school was a time in my life that I wish I could forget, courtesy of my big sister. It turns out that she is getting a divorce. By the time the house is sold and the mortgage is paid and the credit cards are paid and the lawyer is paid, she will be lucky if he gets custody of the remaining debt. I can’t say I’m going to shed a tear. She was exploring her options. She wanted to know if she could move in with us. For a woman that burns her bridges in front of her, she was remarkably optimistic. Frank decided to have some fun with her. He told her that we didn’t want any house guests, but we were looking for a maid. To my surprise, she didn’t dismiss it immediately. Frank laid it on thicker as he went, no pay, just a room and food, on duty 24 hours a day with only Sundays off. She looked shocked that we would treat anyone that way, especially a relative. I was enjoying her misery, but she still hadn’t left yet. Sarcastically, she asked if the job had any perks. Frank told her “Just free cable and broadband internet.” She still hadn’t left so Frank decided to go nuclear. After listing job requirements and restrictions that would keep a starving illegal alien from taking the job, He told her that the job requires wearing a maid’s uniform and sent me upstairs for it. I came back down with my Halloween costume and showed it to her. She finally looked shocked. Sarcastically, she asked if it came with matching satin panties, fishnet stockings and heels. With a straight face he told her no and she would have to supply her own heels, 6 inch minimum, preferably with an ankle strap and shave her pubes. With that, she looked at me. I just shrugged my shoulders and said “Well you will be handling food.” The look on her face was priceless. She shook her head and said “I’d rather work naked. Then she put on her coat and headed for the door. Frank just had to get in one last jab. “Well if you are willing to work naked, you can start anytime!” She didn’t even slam the door behind her. I think she wanted us to see her walking away. After she got in her car we both burst out laughing. Revenge is a dish best served cold! I let Frank take the lead in tormenting my sister. That’s out of character for me. I think the chains are making me more submissive. I know I can just take them off anytime I want, but I like not knowing what Frank has in mind for me and I like having my limits pushed. I have been considering expanding my submissive status to 24/7/365 no safe word, no limits. I guess it fits with my personality. I’m a coaster freak. I love roller coasters. Once it starts, you can’t get off till it’s done. The longer and scarier the ride the better I like it. Tuesday December 9 Frank took the chains off with one day remaining on my tab. I wonder what he is saving it for. My whole plan to get the other nipple pierced went bust. Frank had my clit hood pierced. It’s a ¾ inch gold bead ring. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as the nipple piercing did. Sunday December 21 I woke up with the chains already on my ankles. Frank put them on me while I was sleeping. He gave me a little vibrator the size of a marble that ran on a watch battery. I had to hang it on my clit hood ring. He then had me put on my Ballet boots and a coat, not my long one, and we went out to a movie. The vibrator kept jumping around randomly and I instinctively clamped my legs together to keep it from being too distracting. Every time Frank caught me with my knees together, he made me undo one button of my coat. I managed to leave the theater with only 2 buttons holding it closed. After getting caught with my knees together twice in the car, he made me get out and put my coat in the trunk. As I closed the trunk, he drove off. I ducked behind some roadside bushes and waited. A few minutes later he came back and I ran to the car. He drove off about 50 feet and stopped. I ran for the car and he Drove off about a 100 feet. I realized that he didn’t want me to run. I just held my head high and walked to the car as if I weren’t naked. I was glad it was a nearly deserted country road. He didn’t pop the trunk as I got to the car, so I got in naked. He had me put on a blindfold that he just happened to have with him and we drove around for a while. When we stopped, I had to get out and walk about 75 steps past what felt like some bushes. He put some kind of straps around my wrists and ankles. Then he had me step up on something unsteady. My hands were pulled up over my head and secured. Suddenly whatever I was standing on was knocked out from under me and I was dangling by the straps. Then he pulled my ankles out to the sides and secured them. It was cold out. I was naked and apparently hanging from a tree limb with my legs spread and a tiny vibrator twitching on my clit hood ring. I started to say something and he put a ball gag in my mouth. Then I heard him walk away and start the car. I heard the car pull away and sheer terror set in. After a few moments, which seemed like hours, I realized that he was not going to leave me there. I tried to relax, with limited success. Just as I began to shiver I felt a sharp pain in my groin. It took a few seconds to realize what it was. Frank had snuck back and smacked me with the riding crop. The sensation was incredible! He smacked me a few times more, at random intervals so I wouldn’t be able to prepare for it. I nearly peed myself. Then he released my ankles, lowered my feet to the ground and freed my hands, only to secure them behind my back again. Then he removed the ball gag. Still blindfolded, I had to kneel in the snow and give him a BJ. Then I had to face the tree trunk. I could feel the rough wet bark against my body. Then I heard him leave again. Shortly I heard the car come back and he had me walk back to it, still blindfolded. He put me in the trunk for a short drive. When he stopped, I heard a garage door closing and then the trunk opened. He took off the blindfold and I saw we were in our own garage and I also got my first look at my new jewelry. It matched the other side perfectly. Frank lead me upstairs, my wrists still secured behind my back and stood me at the bedroom window. He said to stay there till he came back. After a few minutes I got bored and while watching the birds on the bird feeder, noticed the unique tracks of my ballet boots. I hadn’t been hung in some random tree miles from home. It was the big maple tree in our own rather secluded back yard. I was pissed off that he had tricked me so easily that I gave him a hard time about it. He told me to be quiet and I back talked him even more. Then He said “That does it. You need to be punished.” I shut up immediately, but he put the ball gag back in anyway. He clipped my ankle cuffs to my wrist cuffs so I was bent over at an uncomfortable angle. Then he ran a cord from the loop on the ball gag to the leg of the dresser and pulled my face down lower so I was in an even more uncomfortable position. He removed the vibrator and gave me 20 on the pussy with the riding crop. After releasing my wrists, he told me to get ready; we were going out to dinner. I took a quick pee and put on the dress he laid out on the bed. Then he handed me the little vibrator and I dutifully hung it back on my clit hood ring. Without even a hint of what he had in mind, we stopped at the piercer. I had to take off my dress completely while getting my right nipple pierced. At least I’m not lop sided anymore. With a new ring and a Band Aid on my right boobie, we went to Outback Steakhouse. It was a relief to get off my feet. Ballet Boots get very painful after a while. My dress was short, but I didn’t dare let my knees touch. I didn’t want to give him an excuse for some other torment or embarrassment. I had enough for one day. That’s when it hit me. I had enough. He had pushed my comfort limits to the point of discomfort, but not beyond. It was like a good roller coaster, as much as you can handle without puking your guts up. I felt satisfied. I also felt horny as hell. It was a cold December day and I was wearing ballet boots and a thin, low cut, mini length dress with no underwear in a public place and I felt satisfied not embarrassed. I think that’s when I decided to take this further. When the chains came off that night, I was off the hook. I wanted to be back on it in a big way. I only had a few days left to plan. December 26 Early in the morning on Christmas Eve I went to the local jeweler for a custom item that I decided on a few days before. It was a pair of gold ankle bracelets, delicate and dressy enough not to be noticed as out of place. The jeweler had to put them on me because I wanted them with no clasp, not even a split link. I had him solder them on. They were to wear 24/7/365. I wore dressy boots so frank wouldn’t see the chains. We visited relatives and friends as usual and when we got home it was late. I put on socks, supposedly to keep my feet warm, and we went to bed. On Christmas morning, when we traditionally exchange gifts, I showed him the new ankle bracelets and explained the rules. The only limits I set were that he couldn’t have me do anything that would damage our relationship, leave physical or mental damage or scars and that he had to do enough to keep it interesting. He insisted that he get a warning if he got close to stepping over the line. I didn’t really want any limits. It’s more thrilling that way. Still, there has to be some limits. I relented and told him that I would call him Franklin, which he hates, if things went too far. He smiled and I could see the thoughts start whirling in his mind. When I opened my gift from him, I was very surprised. It was a collection of nipple jewelry, bondage paraphernalia, sex toys, garter belts and stockings in a box under a really nice sweater. I think he suspected what I had planned. This morning I saw the list of rules he posted on the refrigerator. No leg hair. No underarm hair. No pussy hair unless specified by him. No ass crack hair. No underwear of any kind except garter belts and stockings except as needed on a monthly basis and only as long as is absolutely needed. Stocking tops must not be visible when wearing a skirt or dress. No slacks, jean or shorts without permission unless worn with 5 inch or higher heels while topless. No skirts or dresses longer than 6 inches above the knee without permission. Buttons above nipple height will not be used without permission. Zippers will not be zipped above nipple height without permission. No shoes other than 5 inch or higher heels without permission. No open toed shoes with stockings. No back talking. No masturbating. No spitting during or after a Blow Job. It will be swallowed. The toilet paper must come off the TOP of the roll. The toilet seat will be left up. Nipple jewelry will be changed at least once a week. No Nipple jewelry will be worn less than 3 days running. All nipple jewelry will be worn before wearing any one piece again. Any nipple jewelry suitable for wearing in the clit hood piercing will be rotated through that position under the same 3- day minimum, 5-day maximum rule. Violation of any rules will be subject to whatever punishment comes to mind and will not necessarily be in proportion to the degree of the violation. It was much as I expected with only a few surprises. I’ve been following most of those rules since September anyway. What I didn’t expect was to find a list posted on the refrigerator. I asked him about bikini waxing because it requires that the hair grow back a bit before ripping it off again. He told me that if it gets fuzzy it gets the riding crop. I asked about the no masturbating rule and he said that he decides when I orgasm from now on. I may have made a Frankenstein out of Frank. I better end this entry now and go upstairs to check the toilet paper roll. January 5 Frank has been very easy about giving me permission to wear sneakers and jeans, at least while working on the den. He did keep me topless most of the time though. I did keep me from getting paint on a sweatshirt. It’s been 6 months since we started, but we finally finished the den. We had to strip it to the studs after squirrels chewed a hole in the roof and the rain got into the wall. We got the Nordic track and the treadmill moved in and Frank’s weights should be moved in over next weekend. Frank gets a kick out of watching me jog naked on the treadmill. It actually should be a nice place to exercise once the paint smell fades. One thing worries me. He installed 2 small hooks in the wall just below shoulder height and an eyebolt in the ceiling. He won’t say what they are for. I’m surprised at my own change of attitudes. I went from being reluctant to get a bikini waxing to actually enjoying a riding crop. I think it’s all about how you look at it. A vibrator is just an annoying buzz in the crotch until you make it erotic in your mind. The riding crop hurts more than a waxing, but I associate it with sex and it becomes an intense stimulation in an erogenous zone. Sure it hurts, but it hurts in an erotic fashion. It focuses my thoughts on my pussy and keeps them there. Even my language has changed a bit. I would never use the word “pussy” that way before now. I’m also more vocal during sex. I think it goes hand in hand with being less inhibited in general. Frank has put the ball gag to good use so the neighbors don’t call the cops when I orgasm. January 28, 2009 It’s been a quiet 2 weeks. I think Frank is letting me settle in with the new rules. I keep forgetting about the toilet seat and have been reminded about that rule with the riding crop twice spent the weekend wearing nothing but jewelry and the ballet heels. I’m getting used to the clit hood ring. If I knew it would be this stimulating, I’d have gotten one years ago. The nipple jewelry is nice, but not as much fun as the clit ring. The only nipple jewelry that I have a problem is the nipple shields. They are shaped like thimbles, but open on both ends. To put them on, I have to put a bar through the piercing and loop a piece of dental floss through the shield and under the bar. Then I stretch the nipple out and position the bar so it won’t let the nipple back through the shield. They hold my nipples stretched out so that it looks like I have huge nipples on a cold day. It hurts a bit when I first put them on, feel good after a while. Frank likes me to wear them with tight sweaters. You can probably see the bumps 100 feet away. Frank’s job has gone to a 4 day work week and the loss of a days pay each week is making things tight. I have been out of work now for 8 months. Rewarding countries that are politically correct with favorable trade deals instead of going with the bottom line is not a way to run a country and it’s likely to get worse. Frank got a part time job tending bar at a friends place. It’s a country-western theme place. Think of a country version of Hooters. It’s not the name over the door, but most of the people I know call it “Cooters.” When the economy is good, people drink to celebrate. If the economy sucks, they drink to console themselves. It’s a safe business to be in. The extra income is nice, but I end up horny and alone at home even more now. On the plus side, I lost 5 pounds so far jogging naked on the tread mill. I think I can run longer naked because the air keeps me cooler and I run faster to stay warm. The nipple jewelry and clit ring add a bit of stimulation and make running more pleasurable. February 15 Frank had me put on the nipple shields, out of sequence, and gave me a very small clit hood ring, with a dangling ball and chain to put in. The small ring pulled back the skin and left my clit exposed and the chain kept rubbing on my clit and tickling my inner thighs. Then he had me pick out shoes. The shoes I picked would determine what he would have me wear. At first I thought that if I picked conservative shoes, he would have me dress sexier. Then I thought if I picked outrageous shoes, I would end up in sexier clothes. Not knowing what shoes would lead to which outfit, I just went with ankle-strap plats. I like feeling tall. Frank had me put on black stockings, black garter belt, a blue satin skirt, white satin blouse and silver bracelets. The skirt was just long enough to hide the stocking tops. The nipple bumps from the shields were huge, but since it was cold out, not entirely out of place. Just walking was enough to get the miniature ball and chain swinging back and forth, rubbing over the tip of my clit with every step. It was just the thing to keep my thoughts between my legs. Frank told me that he couldn’t decide what he wanted me to do. I could go to the men’s room with him after dinner, strip to my shoes and jewelry, hand him my clothes and give him a 10-minute head start before making a dash through the restaurant for the car. Or, I could give him a blowjob while we waited for the food. I told him I would rather do the blowjob, because it would be hard to run in those shoes. He suggested walking. I slowly undid 3 buttons on my blouse while suggesting the blowjob, one more and I’d be unbuttoned to the waist. He flipped a coin, I did the blowjob. I think that’s what he had planned anyway since it’s the first restaurant we have been in that had long tablecloths in years. I don’t think anybody noticed when I ducked under the table, but I don’t know for sure. After dinner we stopped in a bar with pool tables and played a few games. Frank didn’t let me button up my blouse after the blowjob and I had to be careful how I moved, though I’m sure more than a few guys at the bar noticed. One guy made the comment “Nice jewelry.” I doubt he was referring to the bracelets. When I was finally relaxed enough to win a game, Frank told me to play someone else while he watched. I actually managed to win 5 games in a row. I think the guys that I was playing were distracted. I’m not that good at pool. On one hand I was embarrassed though I was careful not to show it. On the other hand I was definitely getting a rush from knowing that strange guys were seeing my tits. They were short glimpses, but constantly repeated for over 2 hours. The effect was stronger than flashing the security guard. We got home at 2 AM and after another blowjob, we fell asleep, Frank satisfied and me horny as hell. February 20 I found a Carmen Electra “Fit to Strip” DVD in the player this morning. It’s an obvious hint from Frank. It’s part of a multi-disc set, so I’ll probably be getting the rest, one at a time as a countdown to him actually getting me up on stage in some strip club. It’s a pretty good workout and 80% of the fun is in the anticipation of loosing control. February 28 I screwed up yesterday. I put the toilet paper backwards on the Roll and buttoned my blouse above nipple height. Frank had me put on the ballet heels, leather wrist cuffs, blindfold and a ball gag. Then I had to stand in the corner of the den with my wrist cuffs tied to the eyebolt in the ceiling and my nipple rings over the little hooks on the wall. It wasn’t all that uncomfortable at first, but got seriously uncomfortable as time passed. I found out later that I was only there for twenty minutes, but it seemed like hours. When he finally came to release me he took off the ball gag and asked me what I was willing to do to be released. I didn’t know what to say. I said I would do anything he wanted me to do, but he wanted me to name something. It was like he wanted me to name my own punishment. I couldn’t think of anything specific and he said he would think of something and surprise me. I though that would be the end of it, but he slowly lifted my left ankle straight out to my side and he tied it to the treadmill. I was standing on one foot with the other tied out to my side and my hands tied to the eyebolt in the ceiling. Then he proceeded to give me thirty on the pussy with the riding crop. I actually orgasmed around the twentieth. I was my only orgasm in what seems like an eternity. He let me loose and told me to wear nothing but my piercing jewelry and the ballet heels until told otherwise. I am only allowed to take off the heels to take a shower or in bed. March 14 I have been naked for 2 weeks now. Frank let me out of the ballet heels when I started getting a blister. One thing is for sure, I won’t be buttoning up my blouse without thinking. The only time I wear anything now is when I do my grocery shopping wearing 5-inch pumps and a coat. The weather is warmer now and the long coat looks out of place so I’m wearing one that is about 5 inches over my knees. It’s long enough to cover a miniskirt, but a regular length skirt would show. Yesterday, at the grocery store, a couple of guys were looking at me as though that knew I was naked under the coat. I mentioned it to Frank and he told me that if anybody asked what I had on under the coat, I wasn’t to tell him or her, I was to show them. Frank will probably have one of his buddies, that I don’t know, ask me and I’ll have to flash him, or risk the punishment. Then again, if it’s some stranger, I can get away with not flashing. Now I have to wonder how long before I get asked and where and if I should flash or take the punishment. The thought of flashing some guy in the produce aisle gives me a rush. I am so horny I can’t think straight. March 19, 2009 This morning, Frank told me that I could start wearing clothes again. After nearly 3 weeks bare-assed naked and barefoot, with only short stretches in an overcoat and heels, I was getting used to it. After he left for work, I decided to get dressed. I found myself actually having a hard time deciding what to wear. I actually tried on a bunch of things on before deciding on tight jeans with ankle strap pumps and a belt that matched the pumps. I’m staying topless of course in accordance with Frank’s rule #7 as posted on the refrigerator. It’s been so long since I’ve worn anything that covered my crotch, that I find it mildly erotic. The fact that it presses on my clit hood jewelry is a mixed blessing. I decided to go to the next nipple jewelry in the rotation, as per Frank’s rules # 18-19- 20, to the big nipple shields. It took some time to get them in place like always. They stretch my nipples so tight that they can be a real bitch to get into. The piercer told me that the healing around the piercing and the stretching effect of the shields should make my nipples grow a bit. They are definitely bigger than they used to be. April 2 Frank took me to a “Munch” yesterday. I had no idea what a “Munch” is, but given the date I thought it was a joke that I didn’t get and played along like I did. He had me put a soft dildo in and put on tight jeans. Then he decided that my nipple rings were too obvious and had me switch to nipple shields. That made my nipples much more obvious, but they looked like really big nipples on a cold day and not like jewelry. He completed my outfit with red heels and a T-shirt that was a size too small that has a graphic of a car with its lights on and the words “My Headlights are on for Safety.” We went to a side room at a restaurant a few miles away with seating for about 80 people. It was nearly full. Everybody looked quite normal until I started looking more closely. Since I was a bit self conscious about the apparent size of my nipples, I started checking out the other nipples in the room. That’s when I noticed that there were more people with nipple jewelry that the average group one might meet at a church social. There were more tattoos, and more women with goth-lite makeup that I expected. It was nothing that really stood out and I probably wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been looking more closely that normal. We sat at a table with 2 other couples that looked perfectly normal. Even more normal than me, considering the way my nipples poked at my T-shirt. It turned out that a “Munch” is a “meet and greet” for the local BDSM crowd. These are people with all sorts of normal jobs and lives that have a kinky side to them. One of the couples has a very similar relationship to what Frank and I have. He posted his rules for her on the inside of the bedroom door. The other couple “Plays” with multiple partners and couples. Compared to them, Frank and I are very very vanilla. We chatted for over an hour before one of the women produced one of those neat little LCD photo albums. It was strange seeing this woman that looked like a High School Guidance Counselor, naked in stilettos and handcuffs in one photo and getting flogged while tied to a St Andrews Cross. One photo was a close-up of her pierced and triple padlocked labia. I decided not to show that one to frank. As I looked through the photo I realized that there was far more to this stuff than what Frank and I had been doing. I was getting seriously aroused. I excused myself and went to the ladies room. I had to go anyway. The dildo felt like it was poking me in the bladder. I peed and was about to masturbate, breaking Frank’s rules, but decided not to. I put the dildo back in place and went back to the table. I was so horny that I wished that it was the vibrator instead of the dildo so I could cum right there. I had plenty on my mind during the drive home. I couldn’t get the image of the three little padlocks out of my thoughts. What would it be like to have them hanging between my thighs? What if frank had me put in a big dildo and left it locked in there for a few days? What was one of their “Play Parties” like? Would Frank take up their invitation to one of their parties? Would I ever “Play” with someone other than Frank like the kinkier couple at the table? That last one really got me thinking. I had never set more than minor limits on Frank other than that if he was going too far I would call him Franklin. It is partly because I need risk to feel the rush. Any limits reduce the risk and the rush is lessened. My position as what the BDSM crowd calls a “Collared Submissive” puts Frank in total control and without limits, he gets to decide. Frank appears to have a renewed interest in being my “Dom.” This morning he posted a new version of the rules, simplified, but with no major changes. No leg hair, underarm hair, ass crack hair or pussy hair unless specified by him. No underwear of any kind except garter belts and stockings except as needed on a monthly basis and only as long as it is absolutely needed. No slacks, jean or shorts without permission unless worn with 5 inch or higher heels while topless. No skirts or dresses longer than 7 inches above the knee without permission. Buttons or zippers will not be used above nipple height without permission. No shoes other than 5 inch or higher heels without permission. No back talking. No masturbating. No spitting during or after a Blow Job. It will be swallowed. A clit hood ring and Nipple shields will be worn at all times unless specified otherwise. Violation of any rules will be subject to whatever punishment comes to mind and will not necessarily be in proportion to the degree of the violation. I also found 3 new sets of Nipple shields in my jewelry box. One set is too extreme for me to wear. I just can’t stretch that far. Another is a silver sunburst similar to Janet Jackson’s. The third is a thick and heavy steel ring with pointed Allen screws on opposite sides of the ring. It looks like a torture device. There was also an insertion taper, used to guide jewelry through a piercing and to enlarge a piercing, as well as a pair of sleeves. It took all morning to get the taper through the right nipple and the sleeve into hole it stretched out. I feel lop-sided now, but I should be able to get the left one in after lunch. April 20, 2009 Frank has been an unusually quiet mood for the last 2 weeks. I just know he’s got something in the works. I got both sleeves in. The left one took several days of trying to get it stretched fully. I really like the heavy nipple shields. The points of the Allen screws go into the ends of the sleeves. I especially like the way they tug and bounce when I use the treadmill. Frank left the second “Fit to Strip” DVD on the top of the TV and I’m getting pretty good at the moves. At least I won’t look uncoordinated when he finally gets around to “forcing” me to get up on stage and strip. He really is sensitive to my needs. I have been thinking about the people we met at the munch and what Frank might have in mind. I have a more vivid imagination than Frank and my own imagination is coming up with some pretty outrageous stuff. If he doesn’t act on this soon, whatever he does have in mind will be pretty tame compared to my imagination. It’s been 30 days since I had an orgasm. Frank has had a BJ a day, but I’m climbing the walls! Tomorrow, when he gets home, he’s going to catch me doing yard work in jeans, sneakers and a baggy sweatshirt. I might even wear panties and a bra. Hell, I might even skip a day shaving my pubes. If I’m not going to get fucked, I’m going to get the riding crop. One way or another, my pussy is going to get some attention! April 30, 2009 I have gotten a bit behind updating this diary. I did wear a top with jeans and sneakers. He had me inset the big vibrator and wear it with tight jeans for 3 days, 24 hours a day, changing the jeans once a day and the batteries for fresh every time I had to pee. I had several orgasms but staying in jeans with a wet crotch for 3 days wasn’t really worth it. When he said I could take them off, I was ecstatic. I showered, shaved and stayed naked for 2 days just because I couldn’t stand being in clothes. Frank told me that I would be working at “Cooters” this weekend. I worked there years ago and never expected to be going back to waitressing in cowboy boots, a denim skirt, and cowboy hat with a bandana for a top. The way the economy is going, I hope I make good tips. I asked Frank about the skirt length and he said that 7 inches over the knee was Ok with the boss. We all used to wear shirts longer and with pantyhose last time I worked there. I wonder if I’m going to be in the shortest skirt or if the new uniform is shorter. May 3 2009 Not much has changed at “Cooters.” I fell right into the old routine. The girl that took over as hostess when I left is pregnant and plans to leave in a month or so. The sound system has been upgraded and the kitchen completely redone, but the basic atmosphere of the place is unchanged. The air seemed colder than when I used to work there. Most likely it’s that I’m not in as good shape physically and I’m not wearing pantyhose. The draft up my skirt is much more noticeable with my present pubic hairstyle and undergarments, none in both cases. One of the customers on Sunday was the woman I met at the “munch”, the one with the triple locked pussy lips. She was with some female friends. All of them looked quite normal. At first, I didn’t think that she recognized me. Then a little wink and a smile, when nobody was looking, let me know that she did. One of the most sacred rules of the BDSM community is never to out anyone, so I guess that’s all the sign of recognition that I could expect. I have to wonder if her presence is a coincidence of some long-term plan of Frank’s. Other than sore feet, it went well. I’m not used to being in cowboy boots for long stretches. A few people Noticed my nipples, but nobody said anything. It was just the looks I got from guys. I was wearing the least noticeable nipple shields and “High Beams” are expected in cool air. Frank had me take off the bandanna when we left the parking lot and ride home topless both nights. That sort of thing is pretty much standard procedure for me now. Rarely does Frank let be wear even half what I used to wear in any situation. A ride home used to be in a blouse, bra, skirt, pantyhose, shoe and possibly a jacket. Now it’s cowboy boots, a mini skirt and nipple shields. May 12 I’m working at Cooters 3 days a week now. Frank is on the same schedule. I complained about the cool draft up my skirt and now Frank has me naked 24/7 in the house and doing more time on Nordic Track. My legs look great! And being in better shape does help me feel warmer. My sister, the wicked witch of the west, stopped in at Cooters with some girlfriends. She took the opportunity to razz me about waitressing again. Pointing out in front of her friends that money must be tight for me. Then she quipped that I must not be looking for a maid anymore. That really pissed me off. I don’t need her putting me down just to build herself up. I just said that the position is still open anytime she wants it and walked away. According to Mom, she’s still without a job, without a husband, without a boyfriend and soon to be without a place to live. I’m just without underwear. I accidentally buttoned up a blouse too far when I went grocery shopping. I noticed it while in the store and wondered if Frank had noticed. When I got home the ballet heels, wrist cuffs and nipple rings were waiting. I put them on without saying a word. He pulled the rope through the eyebolt tighter this time and my toes were lifted off the floor. Then he turned me to face the wall and put my nipple rings over the hooks. The new twist was the spreader bar he put between my ankles. I startet to worry about the rope giving way and the hooks ripping out my nipple rings. Frank blindfolded me and unhooked the rings. Then he pulled the spreader bar up to about my wrist height. I waited for what seemed hours, but was probably only a few minutes, before I felt the sting of the riding crop on my pussy. He took his time giving me twenty at irregular intervals so I couldn’t steel myself to the pain. Then he gave me the best oral I have had in years. I orgasamed big time. Not just a “Big o.” It was a “Big OOOOOOOOOO.” He let me down and had me give him a BJ. Then he cuffed my wrists to the spreader bar and leaned me against the wall. He gave me a few more with the riding crop and then fucked me from behind. I didn’t orgasam, but it was still fun. I had to wear the ballet heels for 24 hours, but that’s not really a punishment. I kinda like being naked and on my toes as long as it’s not for too long. I get blisters after the first day in those shoes. First chance I get, I’m sewing closed all the buttonholes that I’m not supposed to use. I might even overstitch my zippers just in case. Well maybe not all of them. I might feel the need to be naughty. May 22 Frank got laid off yesterday. So much for the economic recovery that we have been promised. I have tried to act extra sexy for him to keep his mind off things. It dosen’t seem to be working. May 23 Frank is really down in the dumps. Even a BJ dosen’t seem to lift his spirits. I decided to go nuclear and get his mind on something else. I put on nice slacks, cotton socks, sneakers, bra and a white cotton blouse buttoned all the way up and announced that I was going to the grocery store to apply for the open cashiers position. He hesitated for a second and told me to strip and assume the position. I gave him a defiant look and he took me by the wrist and led me upstairs and told me once again to assume the position. I complied and he gave me 10 with the riding crop. I told him that that dosen’t change anything, I was going to get a second job. He had me lie on the bed. He tied my ankles behind my head and my wrists apart to the sides of the bed. It’s a good thing that I’m flexible. I have actually spent over an hour like that before. The back of my shoulders left a red mark on the back of my calves. He gave me 20 more and I was still obstinate. I hadn’t called him Franklin, our saftey signal, and I’m sure he noticed that. He continued with the riding crop and I continued being obstinate. I was getting pretty red between my legs so he started in on my breasts, OUCH! And the back of my thighs. I was really getting off on the endorphin rush and wanted to continue, but I think he was feeling bad because he walked into the bathroom and came back with a razor, threatening me with a new hairdoo. He obviously wanted me to capitulate so he wouldn’t have to continue the beating. I didn’t like the idea of the Mr Clean bald look and was about to call him Franklin, when I figured out how to signal him to go on. I rarely called him Master because he was uncomfortable with the title. That is our relationship now, Master and collared slave. I just said “Master, Please don’t beat my pussy anymore.” He thought for a second and said “I’ll decide when to stop and that will be when you behave.” He then put the razor down and went back to whipping my pussy. I prolonged the beating till I orgasamed, barely manageing to hide it from Frank, before I capitulated and agreed to not go for the job. He rewarded me with a great fucking, though I was so spent by then that I had to fake the orgasam. The episode got Frank’s mind back in the gutter where I like it and I still haven’t had too break character to call a safety. May 24 Frank is his old self again. I’m walking funny because my pussy is still tender. Ellen, with the tripple locked labia called and invited us over for a get-together tomorrow. I figured that kinky parties would be on weekends. Then what do I know about scheduling kinky parties. Frank decided that I would love to go and accepted for both of us. I have little idea of what to expect. That’s not a bad thing. I like the suspense. I just wish the party were a week off. That would give me more time to fantasize about the possibilities. May 26 Frank had me wear my ballet heels with locking cuffs over the laces, my most extreme nipple shields, locking wrist cuffs and locking collar to the party. Once out of the tube dress that I wore for the drive over, I felt beyond naked. After we arrived and were introduced around, he chained the D-rings on my cuffs together behind my back with a chain about a foot long, so I couldn’t do much with my hands. I felt seriously vulnerable. Not only was I virtually naked in front of strangers, I was restrained in a way that left me pretty much helpless. I was on the verge of hyperventilating, but managed to stay composed, at least on the outside. As I got used to the people and situation, I calmed down a bit. There were all sorts of scenes playing out between people. One woman was getting a whipping while tied to a St Andrew’s cross. Another woman in stilettos was stepping on her naked submissive husband’s nuts. I struck up a conversation with a striking looking brunette with the most perfect tits that I have ever seen. She was topless in stiletto heels and a short skirt. My impression was that she was the most “vanilla” one there, including Frank and I. After about an hour, Ellen told Frank that the “Box” was free and it was our turn. I asked Frank what was going on and he just said “You’ll see.” He led me into another room where there was a box on the table that looked like a cross between a coffin and a magician’s saw-a-woman-in-half-trick. He had me climb into the box and put my head and feet through the holes at the end. It wasn’t all that easy with my hands behind my back. Then he slid panels into slots so that I couldn’t get my head or hands out. When he closed the lid, I nearly freaked out. I couldn’t escape. I couldn’t move my hands much because I was lying on the chain that held them together. Frank reached in one of the holes along the side of the box and massaged my breasts. I asked him what happens next and he said, “Just go with the flow.” Then he blindfolded me, put headphones on me and I waited, listening to the soft music. When I felt the first touch on my belly, I jumped in fright. Then another hand touched my leg and slowly rubbed my calf. The number of hands went up and I quickly realized that it wasn’t just Frank. When the first hand touched my breast, I tensed up, but Frank had said to go with the flow. Soon there were hands on both breasts and everywhere but my crotch. The hands on my upper thighs soon moved to my inner thighs and I wasn’t sure whether I should keep my knees together or spread them wide. I just went limp and let the hands position my legs. Soon they were moving up my inner thighs and onto my pubic area which was still sensitive from the riding crop. Soon they were fondling my labia and tugging playfully at my clit hood ring. I pressed my knees against the sides of the box, but I couldn’t spread wide enough. I began to squirm and moan. The whole thing was just so erotic that I couldn’t help myself. Nobody stuck a finger inside me or hurt me in any way. They were all quite gentle and respectful. I just knew that Frank had set some limits. I soon felt someone, probably Frank; unlock the chain from the left wrist cuff. I lifted my ass and slid the chain out from under me. It was more comfortable that way. With my hands free I began to explore out of the box. I felt a hip and a wrist then a penis. I figure that Frank wanted a hand job so I obliged. As it quickly got hard, I realized that it wasn’t Frank. It was small with a wicked curve. I pulled my hand back in the box as quickly as I could. The hands on my body didn’t stop or change what they were doing so I explored again. I found a woman on the other side that didn’t shy away and actually moved her pussy towards my hand. It felt strange groping that strange woman while others were groping me. I put my left hand back outside and found another woman who moved away after a short time and a man took her spot. I groped him and realized that he wasn’t Frank or the first guy. I didn’t pull back. I just continued what I was doing and enjoyed every second of it. The woman on my right moved away and I found another penis to play with. Last August I was embarrassed to be seen topless and last night I was enjoying what I later learned is called, appropriately, a “Grope Box.” Just when I thought that things couldn’t get any more erotic, I felt a cool draft. The lid was off the box. I felt the hands move away from my breasts and was feeling disappointed that it was ending. Then it hit me, a sudden burst of heat, pain and pleasure all in one. It took a few seconds to realize that it was candle wax. I had seen a couple playing with candles earlier and had wondered what it was like. After a few more on my breasts in general and nipples in particular I realized that I had a death grip on a dick in each hand. I was about to let go when a drop of hot wax hit my pussy. Without thinking, I just squeezed them as hard as I could. They didn’t pull away so I just hung on for what was to come. The effect of the hot wax didn’t last long. After 30 or so drops, I was coming down off the rush and needed a drink of water and some air. When I let go of the guys, I felt my ankles being released and was soon sitting up and taking off the headphones and blindfold. I had to be helped out of the box and didn’t much care who helped lift what part of me. After some orange juice and a long wordless hug from Frank, I was feeling pretty good and horny as all hell. The first words out of my mouth were “Master. Please may I do it again? Please. Please. Please. You can shave my head if that pleases you. You can forbid me an orgasm for as long as you want, you can fuck me up the ass, but could I please do it again?” I’m not sure if Frank was a surprised at my choice of words as much as I was, but I meant it all, even the part about anal sex. That was one thing that I would never have agreed to, even if Frank asked and I think he knew that. I just had to let him know that I would do what he asked, wherever he asked it, whatever that might be. Frank said that I had enough for one day and I felt like a little kid being told that they couldn’t have another ice cream. He did let me suck his dick and I felt as content a baby suckling at its mother’s breast. I actually dozed off for a time and woke up to frank unlocking my cuffs. He had me get totally Naked, which amounted to taking off my shoes and shackles, and shower before we got into the hot tub. After a short soak we showered again and it was time to head home. Some people were passed out on the floor, but frank was quite sober and decided to drive home. Before leaving I noticed that the small curved dick belonged to the striking “woman” with the perfect tits. I found that kind of creepy as I had been fondling it earlier. I just realized that I shouldn’t be judging others. Frank and I are pretty kinky and getting kinkier all the time. I put the ballet heels on and locked my cuffs and collar in place without being told. I didn’t even think of putting the tube dress on and just sat there, naked for the drive home. Once home, my master allowed me to suck his dick again and I fell asleep, still in the heels, suckling contentedly. May 28, 2009 Master has told me to stay naked, except for heels, till further notice when at home. He has also let me suck his dick twice a day. I thought that my adventure in the grope box would be more satisfying or at least longer lasting. I doubt I could ever enjoy it like that again. The thrill of not knowing what was coming only happens on the first time. The second time can never be as good. On my old 1-10 scale of satisfied to horny, I’m at a 35. I never dreamed that I could get this horny. If master brought home a Great Dane and told be to kneel and get it doggie style, I’d give it a try in a second and hope he’s a big one. I see a real down side now. It will take him some time to top that trip into BDSM! June 4 I haven’t had much to write about since the BDSM party. Everything else seems so tame now. We are both working full-time at Cooters now, at least temporarily. A few of the others are out sick and we can always use the extra hours. Chuck, the boss, made a surprise announcement last night. He is going to rent out the place for an after hours bachelors party. He is hiring some strippers for the night, but still needs waitresses. Part of the surprise was that he wants topless waitresses and that he doesn’t want to go outside without giving us 7 full timers the option to do it at double time. Another part of the surprise was that I had already “volunteered.” Frank had “volunteered” me. The costume would be our usual cowboy boots, a denim skirt like usual, but shorter, 2 inches or less below the pussy, my words not his. It was actually funny listening to him try to say it in mixed company. Also, he wants nothing bigger than a thong underneath. 4 of us “seven dwarfs” opted in counting me. “Dopey” the girl with the best chest in the place said that she would, but not if she had to wear a thong. Chuck told her that I wasn’t wearing a thong and any of them can follow my lead. “Dopey” said she would do it. Frank lifted my skirt and said that if she didn’t wear a thong, she’d have to shave, because she would be handling food. Some of the girls looked surprised by my lack of underwear and/or my lack of modesty. She said, “OK.” That surprised me, no way to thongs, but commando was OK. Sandy, AKA “sneezey” due to her allergies, one of the “Dwarfs”, we are all under 5’3”, mentioned to me later that she had suspected that I was going commando and that she had done it herself, but not at work. Frank was annoyed that I had instinctively tried to push my skirt back down when he lifted it. I will be naked at home again, unless outside for yard work or shopping, wearing shorter skirts to work now and no masturbation till he says so. I also got 20 lashes and have to wear the big dildo, strapped in with a chastity belt to bed every night. It’s only been 3 days since he let me wear clothes around the house and now I’m naked again. June 26 Today is a milestone for me, a whole month without an orgasm. Oh God I’m horny!!!!! I usually fall asleep suckling on Master’s dick. Sometimes I suckle till my cheeks are sore. I suck till he cums and I swallow. I keep sucking till he’s soft. Then I keep on sucking. On my 1-10 horniness scale, I’m pushing 50! OH, did I mention that I’m HORNY? July 12 Still no orgasm! My cheeks hurt from sucking. His dick is going to get raw at this rate. Just thinking of sex, while practicing my Carmen Electra Stripping workout makes me crazy. The bachelor party is coming up soon. I can’t wait to walk around topless in front of strangers. It will be a welcome distraction. I was thinking of doing something that will get my pussy whipped, but realized that the pain will just make me hornier at this point. OH GOD I”M HORNY!!!!!! July 18 Frank got a package UPS today. He says it’s my reward for being good but I have to wait till after the bachelor party for it. If I’m good till then, he promises the best orgasm I have ever had. I try not to think about it because trying to imagine what I have in store for me just makes it worse Aug 1 Last night was the bachelor party. “Dopey” my co-worker with the best tits in the place screwed up right off the bat. She wore pantyhose instead of a thong. I explained it to her in simple terms so she would understand and I thought it got through to her. Then I sent her to the Mall down the road for a thong. She came back wearing a cheap cotton skinny thong over a wide bush. I explained it to her again and she seemed to get it. She came back with Nair bikini cream and went to the ladies room to deal with the problem. 15 minutes later she came back and told me “I took it all off. That stuff works good! But, if I don’t have hair down there, why do I need the thong. It really bothers me having it in my crack.” I explained to her that without the hair, she didn’t need it. She took it off right there next to the cash register and dropped it in the trash. I hate to call anyone stupid, but last week her brand new web book computer wasn’t working when she tried to check her e-mail using the Cooters Hot-spot. It kept powering off. I told her to plug it in to charge the battery and she said, “I don’t have to plug it in. It’s wireless, DUH!” She’s working her way through nursing school. I for one would be more comfortable if she were in a profession where people’s lives didn’t depend on her powers of comprehension. Chuck had us all get topless well before the party started. He didn’t want any red marks from bras showing and he wanted us to get comfortable with walking around exposed. My pierced nipples got noticed of course, but in a positive way. “Sneezy” liked the look and was curious about the pain of the piercing and the sensations they give when you play with them. Her husband gave her a pair of 14 gauge gold hoops for her birthday last week and she ignored the hint so far, wearing them in her ears. Frank had me wear my smallest barbells in my nipples and a curved barbell in my clit hood. He was worried that some drunk would grab one. All seven of us were there. “Tiny” who was embarrassed because of her tiny chest had decided to go for it and “Juggs” who has the biggest pair in the place, but is somewhat past her prime was not disposed to be the only one of us not to do it. Peer pressure combined with double time pay and the potential for huge tips, works even on the more mature of us. Chuck noticed that we were joking around with the seven- dwarfs nicknames and got out the label maker. “Tiny”, “Juggs”, “CC”, “Pointy”, “Pinky” nicknamed for her pink areolas, “Jiggles” which is “Sneezy’s” nickname for the night, “Perky” that’s me and “Dopey” soon had new name badges pinned to our skirts. Dopey looked down and said “My boobies aren’t dopey.” I consoled her with “No dear, they are as smart as the rest of you.” That made her smile. Oh God, I hope I never end up in a hospital where she gets a nursing job! Just before the guests started arriving, Chuck passed out garters with “Tip’s” embroidered on them. To my surprise, “Dopey” didn’t put it on her arm. The party went pretty smoothly. The dancers pretty much held the attention of the guests. They got a little grab ass, but tipped well. The denim skirt Frank had me wear has an elastic waistband and tends to ride up to my waist if I wear it low on my hips. Since Frank was the one that brought it to the tailor for hemming, I expected it to be a set-up. It started out 2 inches below my pussy height, and ended up well above. Without thinking, I had adjusted it down 3 times without permission. Frank caught me twice. I definitely got bigger tips while showing pussy. At the start, it was just “Dopey” “Tiny”, “CC”, and myself that were going commando. “Pointy” got more pointy as the evening wore on. Apparently arousal was taking the place of the cool air and then some. Somewhere around 1AM she lost her thong. She was smooth before hand, so I think she was on the fence about it from the start. Shortly after that, “Jiggles” disappeared and I found her in the ladies room with “Dopey's” Nair. That just left “Pinky” and “Juggs” in thongs. Pinky noticed the disparity in tips and used her break to hit the 24 hour drug store for Nair. BY 3AM “Juggs” was the only hold-out still in a thong. At 5, when the party was over “Juggs” was still in her thong. Afterwards, all us “Dwarfs” had breakfast together with Frank and Chuck. Frank and chuck drove, because we all had had a few too many. Then as soon as the mall opened we went to the piercing/tattoo place where I got mine done “Jiggles” got her earrings moved to her nipples. We all went for moral support. Chuck in a moment of uncharacteristic generosity said “If you all get it done, I’ll buy jewelry for all of you” That inspired “Pointy” and “Tiny” to follow suit but only if “CC”, “Pinky” and “Juggs” went first. “Pinky” revealed that she has had pierced nipples for years already and this was her first time without jewelry in them since she had them done. With some encouragement, “CC” relented, probably assuming that “Juggs” would never give in. Then, “Juggs” said “What the fuck. I’ll do it!” Chuck bought us all matching gold barbells. “Jiggles” put hers in her ears. She wasn’t about to change the rings in her nipples while the piercing was still fresh and tender. “Tiny” got her barbells longer than needed and bought herself a pair of nipple shields, joking “These should double my chest size.” It was a blast, but I have to take a nap. My regular shift starts at noon. Aug 3 I still haven’t received the reward that Frank promised. It was predicated on me being good and I broke the rules adjusting my skirt back down at the bachelor party. For the 2 infractions, I have to wait 2 weeks longer. “Pinky” has a wicked crotch rash. She never used Nair before and is sensitive to it. To make it worse, she used regular Nair, not the stuff for sensitive areas like her bikini patch. Both of “Juggs” nipples are swollen and tender more than is normal for piercing and she may have to switch to rings or just take out the barbells. The piercer recommended rings, because they are easier to keep clean in new piercings, but Chuck was buying barbells that would be better for wearing at work. Aug 18 I got my reward for being good! Frank had me strip naked and get out the bondage toys. I ended up in one of my favorite positions, my ankles locked behind my head and my wrists shackled under my ass. Frank tied on some extra straps so I couldn’t so much as wiggle on the mattress. He rubbed some blue stuff from a tube on my pussy and attached what looked like plastic clothespins to my labia, one on each side up near my clit. Then he attached a clip with a wire on it to my clit hood ring. And hooked up wires from the clothespins to a little box. He wouldn’t tell me what it was, but he promised I would jet a jolt out of it. At first I felt nothing but the pinch of the clothespins. Then there was a slight tingle. He played with the settings as he watched my expressions. I was soon squirming with the sensations. It would throb and then hum and then tingle. If I got close to orgasm he would back off a bit to drag it out. I was hoping that he would take me all the way, because if he didn’t I would be so horny that I would go nuts. It seemed like hours, but was only about 20 minutes later that I had the most outrageous ORGASAM that I ever had. Frank kept the current on and even cranked it up some as I came to be sure not to let me down at the last second. It seemed like my eyes had rolled back so far that I was looking at my brain. He let the pulse continue for a while just doing a Tic- Tic- Tic-Tic-Tic-Tic-Tic-… that got me started on my next case of horny. When he let me loose, I went straight for his dick and tried to suck the skin off. After I swallowed his load, I asked him what he wanted me to do now. He told me to shave my head. Normally, I would have hesitated at that. I had to go to work and being bald would be noticed. I was still high on the orgasm and didn’t even hesitate. We are going wig shopping after dinner tonight. I’m going to be blond, brunette and red head. Oh, before I forget. Juggs bought a pair of rings and was able to keep them clean enough to heal properly. Her guy loves to play with them. Sept 14 Frank got another full-time job yesterday. He’s bartending at a strip club about an hour away. They pay better than Chuck can at Cooters. Chucks Part-time guy is stepping up to full-time and Frank is going to continue on part time. I put on my ballet heels, most noticeable nipple shields and a skimpy dress and we went out to dinner to celebrate. September 28 Things have been pretty normal around here for the last 2 weeks. Well, what passes as normal for us. Franks new job pays much better so we are putting money towards paying down the credit cards. With the economy in the toilet like it is, thinks are only the flick of a wrist away from being flushed. The less we have on the plastic, the better. “Jugg’s” nipples are healed up nicely. Wearing nipple rings seems to have put her in a kinkier frame of mind. Wearing a thong to the bachelor party was a stretch for her. Last Wednesday she bent over the wrong way in the kitchen of “Cooters” and I saw she wasn’t wearing her usual cotton “Granny’s”, or anything else. Our most mature and conservative member of the wait staff went commando on a regular work day. It appears that I continue to be a “bad influence” on those around me. With Frank away at work most nights, I have been spending more time on the exercise equipment and practicing my Carmen Electra stripper workout routine. My legs and Abs never looked better. Oct 16 Frank had me pole dance and give him a lap dance yesterday. Today he handed me that tiny thong swimsuit that he had bought way back in August of last year. It doesn’t seem like it was that long ago and yet it seems to have been part of another lifetime. When I asked what I would be doing today, he told me that I was going to go to work with him tonight. I was to put minimal sized barbell jewelry in my piercings, make sure I didn’t have a single excess hair, put on my Lady Godiva wig and find my long coat. I asked what shoes he wanted me to wear and he just smiled. Since I shave and Nair regularly, it didn’t take long to get ready. He just handed me a pair of clear Lucite platform heels with a slot in the side labeled “Tips.” We are heading out the door in a few minutes. This promises to be a fun night. Oct 17 When we got to the bar, the first thing that Frank did was tell me to leave the G-string bikini in the car. I was disappointed. I fully expected to be dancing in little more than a smile, and stripper shoes. When I got my first look inside, I realized that Frank was again playing with me. It was a totally nude strip club! The girls started out dressed, but didn’t stay that way for long. Frank introduced me to the boss and then sent me out to watch the show. I felt seriously overdressed even though I was naked under the coat. Frank introduced me to Tiffany told me to enjoy the experience and started his shift a few minutes later. She told me that I would be filling in for her partner and all I had to do was follow her lead. She took me back into the dressing room and gave me a black satin cloak, black leather wrist cuffs and a blindfold. She was wearing a black leather corset with a riding crop hanging from the side and thigh high boots. I was immediately aroused. She told me to put them on quickly as we went on next. She led, stumbling, me out onto the stage, backed me up against the wall and clipped something to my cuffs. Then she had me spread my legs wide and put metal leg irons on my ankles. I had never seen her routine and wondered what came next. She hooked what felt like cables to the wrist cuffs and suddenly my wrists were pulled up and apart and the cloak fell off my shoulders. One second I was completely covered by the cloak and the next I was buck naked in front of about fifty customers that I knew were there but couldn’t see because of the blindfold. It was arousing as hell. She told me to squirm as she teased me with the riding crop. She didn’t need to tell me twice as I was about too anyway. Next, she dripped some hot wax on my nipples. I still have no idea what she was doing. I was just a prop for her act. Then nothing happened for the next half dozen songs. I felt her release me and I was lead off stage, still blindfolded. What a rip off! I missed my own on stage debut! I was set decoration for fifteen of my first twenty minutes on stage. I asked Frank if that’s all I was going to do all night and he told me that was just one of her routines. Our next foray onto the stage started out with me in my stripper shoes, the cloak, ankle and wrist cuffs and a chain between the ankle cuffs that was long enough to let me dance, but just barely. I shrugged off the cape after a few seconds on stage. After that, the whole routine was her, in her dominatrix styled corset giving me, her subbie, exotic dance lessons with the tip of her riding crop. If I moved even the slightest bit wrong, I would feel the crop. At one point she grabbed me by the hair and I pulled free leaving her with Lady Godiva in her hand and a surprised look on her face. She hardly missed a beat, tossing my hair aside and getting right back to the routine. I was really enjoying myself and hated getting off stage when the next dancers came out. Our third set was minimalistic. I came on stage in nothing but my shoes and Lady Godiva. She was in shoes with the crop in her hand. She guided me through a lesbian act that at one point had me on the bottom of a 69. Without warning, she stopped acting! It was just for a few seconds, but the touch of her tongue on my clit jewelry and then on my clit was electrifying. After that she was back to acting, but I kept expecting more. After the set, I asked Frank about it. He asked me what I thought about it and I told him I felt like I was cheating on him for enjoying it if even for a moment. He asked me what I would think if he enjoyed watching me and Tiffany together. I thought about it for just a second and told him that I would do as my master told me and take pleasure from his enjoyment. I didn’t tell Frank, but I would draw the line at sex with a guy. A little girl on girl action that got Frank off was not over the line, just very close to it. I asked Frank what he wanted in regards to Tiffany and he told me that he would tell Tiffany what he wanted. I was to follow her lead. I replied “As master commands.” I had thought that sex on stage was illegal but apparently simulated sex is OK. Either way, the rules are more lax in the case of private clubs like this one. Paying an initiation fee instead of an admission fee makes quite a difference in what one can get away with on stage. Our next time on stage, Tiffany handcuffed my hands behind a pole and started running her tongue all over me with particular attention to my nipples. Frank kept glancing our way, but he had bartending to do. Up till then, I hadn’t mingled with the customers. Making small talk and hustling drinks is part of the job. At the end of that set, Frank handed me a pair of cut-off jeans that was cut off to nearly nothing. It just a waistband, zipper fly and crotch seam. I got to hustle drinks with the rest of the girls. It was a strange feeling. Flirting, nearly naked, right in front of Frank. But, like the girl on girl thing, Frank seemed to get off on it so I didn’t question it. Being somewhat shy, compared to the other girls, just got me more attention. Frank took me aside and explained that accepting tips by taking them from guys’ hands between my tits is just how it’s done. My next time on stage was solo. I interacted with the customers far more and took my tips between the tits. I also found that some of the customers preferred to put the tips in the tip slot in the side of my shoes. It gave them a close up look at my pussy if I stepped over onto the top of the bar and held my foot up just right. There is a lot more to dancing than I thought. Letting strange guys feel my cleavage when taking tips didn’t take all that long to get used to. I mentioned it to Frank later that I felt kind of guilty about letting someone other than him touch me there and he said that he had OK’d it and that feeling guilty was not allowed. That’s easy for him to say, but it was somehow different than the grope box. I danced solo for the rest of the night. There were other girls on stage, but we were all doing our own thing. Other than short breaks in the dressing room, my time on stage with Tiffany was the only time I had any real interaction with the other girls other than staying out of their way. Swinging around a dance pole takes up considerable stage space. I didn’t stay out of the way all the time. Catching a wooden soled platform heel, against the side of the head, hurts. Getting off work in the wee hours of the morning is a strange feeling. Most people are asleep and after the night I had had, I was aroused sexually and buzzed on caffeine. The last thing that I wanted to do was to go to bed and sleep. Frank sensed that I was horny as hell and did his best to make it worse. I had to put my coat in the trunk and endure the long ride home in the scrap of denim that passed for cutoff shorts. By the time we got home, I wanted sexing a bad way. Frank wanted me even hornier and had me put on my collar and wrist cuffs with a chain between them so that I couldn’t even play with myself. No masturbation without permission was one of Franks standing rules, so I wouldn’t, but he just shackled me so that I couldn’t, knowing full well that I would be even hornier by morning. Frank took off the restraints first thing this morning, but as soon as I was out of the shower had me put on my ballet heels, my most uncomfortable nipple shields and the little marble sized vibrator that he had modified to screw onto the end of the curved bar that I had in my clit hood piercing. I’ll have to go back and fix my spelling and grammar here because I’m way too distracted to get it right the first or second time. All in all, I had fun last night. I think that Frank was pleased with me as well. He’s not talking about it, so I figure he’s up to something. Oct 21 It’s been 4 days without an orgasm. Normally, that’s nothing for me. This time, after a night dancing, it feels more like 4 months. Frank let me suckle on his dick, but that is not very satisfying and I’m getting jumpy. Working at “Cooters”, even in the skimpy outfit we wear, just doesn’t feel sexy anymore. I’m going to dance again tonight. Frank’s boss thinks I have potential and Frank seems to really get off on it. I think I’m going to be dancing regularly from now on. Frank wants me to wear my tip shoes and a chastity belt this time. I’ll have to unlock when I get on stage and lock back up between sets. I expect that the customers will find that arousing. I certainly do! Oct 22 The chastity belt worked out OK. Frank would unlock me at the start of each set and I’d lock up before mingling with the customers. I was solo all night so I was free to improvise as I liked. Some of the girls strip off a different costume for each set, but most are in and out, mostly out, of the same outfit all night. I’d like to try multiple outfits tonight. Frank posted a new version of the rules on the refrigerator. No leg hair, underarm hair, ass crack hair or pussy hair unless specified. No underwear of any kind except garter belts and stockings except as needed on a monthly basis and only as long as it is absolutely needed. No slacks, jeans, shorts, thongs or g-strings (worn as outerwear) or anything else covering the pubic area will be worn without permission, unless worn with 6-inch or higher heels and nipple shields while topless. No skirts or dresses longer than 8 inches above the knee without permission. Buttons or zippers will not be used above nipple height without permission. No shoes other than 5 inch or higher heels without permission. No back talking. No masturbating. No spitting during or after a Blow Job. It will be swallowed. Piercing jewelry will be worn at all times unless specified otherwise. Work rules 6-inch or higher heels will be worn at all times. Nothing but shoes, jewelry and minimal props, such as bondage paraphernalia, will be worn on stage for more than 5 minutes at a time, once per set. Nothing but jewelry will be worn off stage above the waist. A skirt must be worn when offstage for more than 3 minutes unless something else is specified. Tips will be accepted between the breasts, in a garter or in the slot of a tip shoe. Only minimal momentary customer initiated physical contact with customers is permitted. Close physical contact with other dancers is permitted. Violation of any rules will be subject to whatever punishment comes to mind and will not necessarily be in proportion to the degree of the violation. It looks like my skirts just got an inch shorter. The piercing jewelry rule is relaxed so I don’t have to wear a clit ring on stage. I guess Frank is worried that some jerk might grab it. The slacks and jeans rule is expanded to cover anything that covers my pussy. The work rules are nice. It’s clear the Frank wants me naked or nearly naked most of the time. If a customer puts his hand on my knee, I’ll remove it gently but firmly. I’m going to feel more vulnerable when mingling in just a skirt tonight. A thong or those cutoffs don’t cover much, but somehow make me feel less vulnerable. At least I have some guidelines to spell out some limits now which is nice. It would have been handy dealing with Tiffany. Still “close” is a bit vague. Was Tiffany’s tongue on my clit “close” or “intimate”? Oct 23 I’m really getting into dancing. Having fifty horny guys leering at me and occasionally going to the can to jerk off is not all that bad and the plus side, all the attention, actually feels good. Frank let me pick out my outfits for last night. I chose a few of my shorter skirts and Frank Ok’d short tube dress that I wore as a long skirt at work and a short dress in the car. I also brought along several pair of shoes. The tip slot shoes are actually a good choice. The clear plastic goes with everything. The ballet heels were the least practical and were painful by the end of the night, but generated the most tips. A pair of white knee high boots with a sturdy heel and 2 inch thick sole and a band of white fur at ankle height actually seemed to be the best compromise between comfort and tips. I tried climbing the pole and sliding back down only once, friction burn! October 24 I danced 1 set with Tiffany again last night. Frank was on break and was watching us when she went for “Close” contact. I let her, glancing at Frank. He had a hard-on so I responded in kind and we got in some serious tonguing. It was my first lesbian experience and really wasn’t all that great. I mean that she is physically much better than a vibrator. But, without an emotional connection, emotionally no better than the energizer bunny. I think the best part of it was knowing that Frank was getting off watching us. October 25 Frank and I worked at “Cooters” last night. Wearing even the bandanna for a top seems overdressed. We have 3 more nights at “Cooters” before working at the club. Nov 1 The Halloween party at the club was nice. My costume was reddish brown shoes, fox ears and a butt plug with a fox tail attached to it. I felt both sexy and constipated. Frank has not allowed me an orgasm since I started dancing at the club. It’s been 2 weeks and it feels like 2 years. The club is a sexually charged environment and I’ve been getting overcharged. I hope Frank has a major orgasm planned for me. I’d be disappointed if I have to wait too long for a little one. I didn’t sleep well at all and some idiot was running heavy equipment at 8 am this morning. Frank is still in the sack and after a 3 aspirins and a cup of coffee, I’m going to join him. At least we have a few days off in a row. Nov 6 Monday, the 2nd, was hell. Frank and I both got the fucking flu and the noise Sunday morning was the POD’s guy dropping off a Pod’s container next to the garage. I didn’t think that they worked on Sundays. A phone call verified that it was supposed to be delivered to us. Later in the day, my sister showed up. That’s why I’m sure it was hell, because the devil was on my doorstep. I was caught off guard and invited her in. It was a big mistake. Most evil entities like vampires and such can’t come in unless invited and I opened my big mouth. I told her that Frank was sick in bed and that I was going back to bed as soon as I made some soup, in hopes that she would take the hint and leave. Her reply came as a shock. “No silly. I’m not here to visit my favorite sister. I’m here to start work.” My expression must have said “WTF are you talking about?” She opened up her fur coat, the one that our grandmother promised to me, and said “I’m your new live-in French maid!” I took one look at the skimpy French maid costume and said “I thought you wouldn’t wear that sort of thing. That’s why Frank changed his mind and it’s a live-in nude maid position.” Her look was priceless. “You guys were serious about that!” I just said “Yup. Goodbye.” For a second I thought that I would finally have the last word where my sister was concerned. She said “What kind of sister would I be to leave you two here sick.” Then she hung up her coat in the hall closet, stripped to her shoes and put the maid costume on a hanger next to the coat. “Get back to bed. I’ll be up with the soup in a few minutes.” I went back to bed and Frank asked me who was at the door. I told him and all he said was “Christ.” I replied “Wrong. She’s getting the soup.” “You mean that she’s doing something nice for a change?” “No. She’s doing her job.” “What job?” “Live-in maid. That’s what job.” “Christ!” “Who do you think sent the POD’s container? She plans to stay.” “Christ!” It actually worked out OK. Sharon came up with the soup wearing nothing but black pumps and the too-small-to-be-useful frilly apron from the maid costume. Guys have a hard time being mean to a tall bare-breasted woman with a shaved beaver. Frank laid out the house rules and Sharon agreed. I don’t think she had much choice. Mom can’t stand being in the same room with her for more than a few hours and the retirement home doesn’t allow long term visitors. It was us or the women’s shelter. Sharon has done the cooking, cleaning and even went to the pharmacy for our Tamiflu. She has adapted to her new position far too readily. Tuesday she came upstairs wearing red pumps, a hat from a fantasy nurse costume and a stethoscope. Something is just not right here. It never is where my sister is concerned. She has managed to move in almost completely without any help. Our mini exercise room, formerly the den, has been cleared out. The equipment is back in the basement. Her plasma TV is hung on the wall and her computer is hooked up. The furniture is nothing but a brass frame bed and a night table. She has her shoes,7 pair of heels, all lined up along the far wall and her limited wardrobe, the French maid costume and a thick cotton terry bathrobe hung upon coat hooks on the wall. I can’t figure out if she is far worse off that we think or up to something. On the bright side, she is a good cook and is obsessive- compulsive about cleaning. There is no conflict with our somewhat off-beat lifestyle either. She found the rules on the refrigerator and only commented that she won’t be doing as much laundry as she expected. She seems to have no problems being nude or seeing us nude. I’m somewhat inhibited in her presence though. It just doesn’t seem right to suck Franks cock in front of “the staff”. January 19, 2010 Because things have been so strange with Sharon here as our maid/cook, I have been lax about keeping this diary up to date, so I’ll have to get caught up now. Sharon has been wonderful as a maid and cook. The only time she got dressed, in anything other than the French Maid costume, since she moved in is when we went to visit Mom over the holidays. Even the bathrobe is in the POD since she put her clothes back in there after Christmas. She only puts on the costume to answer the door. It’s longer than the one Frank got for me but she sort of hides behind the door most of the time. I think she has a thing for the Fed Ex guy. When he is at the door she doesn’t hide at all and he can’t hide the bulge in his pants. I still can’t get over the feeling that Sharon is up to something underhanded. We are still splitting our work hours between “Cooters” and the club. Tiffany and I have been doing a duet on stage about 6 times a week and I’m learning to relax and enjoy it. I’ve even been giving back as I’m getting. Once we almost forgot we were supposed to be entertaining the customers. It’s fun, but I haven’t had a orgasm with Tiffany. I need the emotional connection and a dick in me, preferably both. We had another after-hours bachelor party at “Cooters” in December. That time all of us gals went topless and cleanly shaved commando. Even “Dopey” got with the program without confusion. With all the hours we work, we haven’t gotten out much. I can’t even go to the grocery store. I back talked Frank just after New Year’s and I’m now under a no clothes, no orgasm restriction till further notice. I get to wear a warm coat too and from work at the club and the tiny skirt while at work and my skirt and bandana uniform at “Cooters”, but the rest of the time I’m barefoot and naked. I can’t even provoke a spanking by putting the toilet paper on the roll upside down! That’s Sharon’s job now. She screwed up the toilet paper last week and got spanked. She seemed to enjoy it immensely. I’m a bit pissed off. That should have been my spanking. March 19 Frank finally un-grounded me last night. He had me secure my ankles behind my head on the bed, than proceeded to give my fifty. My buttocks were getting red and my pussy seriously wet when he finally fucked me. It was a great way to break a 2-month dry spell. Not much else has changed. Sharon is still our nude maid and has really settled into the part. In fact she seems to be getting deeper into it with time. Now she’s taken to wearing seriously high platform shoes all the time and her “wardrobe” consists of several tiny lace aprons that don’t cover much of anything and a few French maid style “hats.” Sharon’s French maid dress is still in the front closet so she can answer the door, but sometimes she doesn’t bother with it, either hiding behind the door or just standing there naked in front of the UPS guy. She puts the dress on for Fed Ex, we have a female driver. I have gotten over my shyness in front of the “staff” and have no problem getting sexual with Frank even when Sharon is in the room. Frank never had a problem with me giving him a BJ in front of Sharon, but I never initiated sex play with her in the room till recently. The boss had the idea of nude wrestling at the club and of course Frank volunteered me. Being the smallest dancer there lead to the almost inevitable conclusion. I lost every match the first night and June, who works out endlessly, won all hers. She won the silver strap-on and got to try it out on me. It wasn’t all that unpleasant. We are both hetero and it was just a show anyway. My third night losing was different though. Tiffany won and I was on the receiving end of a lesbian driven strap-on. Knowing how much she was enjoying it bothered me, perhaps because I was enjoying it a little myself. I asked Frank for some tips on how to win, or at least how not to loose and he said “Next time you are on the receiving end of the strap-on, you get no orgasams for 6 months.” Well I haven’t won yet, but I haven’t lost since. The strangest part of my whole life is that this is all so normal feeling. It’s like every couple works at a strip club part time and a country bar part time and all wives are totally subservient to their husbands sexually and in most other ways. About the only thing that has seemed weird was that one time last week I was giving Frank a BJ on stage before the club opened and some of the dancers walked in on us and that wasn’t weird till I finished and they applauded! April 10 There was another bachelors party at Cooters and this time all of us went topless and commando from the start and everyone’s skirt was “Too Short.” Frank had me use the vibrator barbell jewelry in my clit hood piercing and I was distracted half the night. It took hours for the battery to run down. January 11 2011 A lot has happened since I last made an entry in this diary. My sister moved out. We got home from work one day and found we no longer had a maid. He room was empty and the POD was gone. We had no warning she was leaving and she left no note. It was kind of weird. All trace of her just vanished. Even her cell phone is disconnected. Frank has been taking me to BDSM play parties fairly regularly. It turns out that, in addition to enjoying a good spanking, whipping or caning, I’m quite the electro slut. Tie me to a ST Andrews cross and work me over with a violet wand, little devil or even a cattle prod and I’m in heaven. With all the hours working out that Frank is “forcing” me to do, I’m getting pretty strong. I finally out-wrestled Tiffany. Winning the silver strap-on trophy and getting to use it on Tiffany’s ass was great! It was my first win and her first time coming in last. Listening to her moan as I used the strap-on really turned me on. It was partly the feeling of power, but it was also very sexual. I mentioned it to Frank and he just smirked and told me that my sexual orientation was whatever he decided it would be and he decreed that I was now Bi-sexual and should enjoy using the strap-on and any other lesbian situation I should find myself in. Tiffany overheard and went to Frank later about teaming up with me on stage for a new routine. This should be interesting considering my new bi-sexual status. “Dopey” from “Cooters” is now working at the club dancing nude. Even stupid women can make a good living if they can dance and have a nice rack. Frank posted yet another revised set of the rules on the refrigerator. No leg hair, underarm hair, ass crack hair or pussy hair unless specified. No underwear of any kind except garter belts and stockings except as needed on a monthly basis and only as long as it is absolutely needed. No slacks, jeans, shorts, thongs or g-strings (worn as outerwear) or anything else covering the pubic area will be worn without permission, unless worn with 6-inch or higher heels and nipple shields while topless. No skirts or dresses longer than 8 inches above the knee without permission. Buttons or zippers will not be used above the lowest part of the breast without permission. No shoes other than 5 inch or higher heels without permission. No back talking. No masturbating. No orgasms without permission. No spitting during or after a Blow Job. It will be swallowed. Piercing jewelry will be worn at all times unless specified otherwise. Work rules 6-inch or higher heels will be worn at all times. Nothing but shoes, jewelry and minimal props, such as bondage paraphernalia, will be worn on stage for more than 5 minutes at a time, once per set. Nothing but jewelry will be worn off stage above the waist. A skirt, crotch length or shorter, must be worn when offstage for more than 3 minutes unless something else is specified. Tips will be accepted any way the customer offers them except vaginally. Only minimal momentary customer initiated physical contact with customers is permitted. Close physical contact with other dancers is encouraged.