Wednesday 27 November 2013

Personal Message - Thanksgiving Holiday 2013



Personal Message - Thanksgiving Holiday 2013

Just a little note to say everyone is down at our house in Florida for a couple of days, to celebrate Thanksgiving as a family. Grandad and Uncle Robert have flown in from New Jersey, and my Sir flew down from Georgia yesterday. It’ll be really wonderful all of us being together again, it seems so long since we were all in the same place, and I’m looking forward to it. They’ll all have to go back on Sunday evening for work next week, so for those Americans reading this, have a lovely Thanksgiving, and for those who don’t celebrate this particular event, have a wonderful weekend anyway.



Don’t forget that if you are having a turkey, it doesn’t have to be a plump one, to each his own, but it needs to be suitably dressed, and then properly stuffed (please see the photo for ideas).

Don’t forget to keep it moist, squirting appropriate juices over it so that it doesn’t get too hot.

Hugs
Katie

:-)
 

Tuesday 12 November 2013

24 Birthday Shopping Trip



24 Birthday Shopping Trip

When we arrived home, I was sent upstairs to shower, with instructions to clean myself thoroughly, and return naked for lunch, which Mom prepared as she chatted with Mark. When I came back down to the kitchen, I had to stand at the end of the counter, hands clasped behind me, feet apart, while my Sir continued his conversation with Mom. This was one of my presentation positions, so I knew that I was not to speak, even as they discussed some of the highlights of my bus tour, and the way my body had been exhibited to such a large group of people. Each comment about how my breasts, pussy, and ass had been shown off, was accompanied by Master Mark’s fingers softly stroking that part of his servant’s presented body.

My Sir’s touch, the comments made, and my memories of those recent events had me close to orgasm in minutes, but my Master expertly held me at the edge of my peak, just the lightest touch away, but never over the edge.

Leaning forward, her drew his fingers away from my squelching girl cleft, saying, “Good girl, my lovely Katherine”, then he softly kissed my forehead, a wondrous expression of his pride in my behaviour.

“Well, my birthday girl,” he continued, holding his arms open to me again, then as we hugged warmly, “let’s eat, because we still have a busy day, and you have more treats coming your way.”

After a small, quick lunch, he reminded me that I still needed the second instalment of my birthday spanks, and they should be delivered in the same sequence as they had this morning, but we would have to hurry things along, so Mom wasn’t late for work.

First, was two cuts of the cane on my bottom, one across the middle, and the next stroke to the crease of my upper thighs, then the paddle on the side of each of my titties making them shake and wobble, leaving a big red mark on each breast. Next I had to lay over the counter on my back, as I had this morning, feet resting on the bar stools, and my legs spread wide to expose my soft girl flesh, my sandal coming down twice on my smooth shaven mound.

For my final two spanks I lay over the back of the sofa, my legs spread, lips peeling apart to reveal the pink inner flesh to the thin leather groove strap. The first lash went from my pubis, along the centre of my right labia, then curled in to cross the centre of my little rosebud. The second was delivered from the back, hitting my anal ring, deep into my cleft, slapping my erect clit, then the tail end left a red line right up the centre of my hairless mound.

That was my prescribed eight, but my Sir stood there, considering the marks across my body, finally saying that the marks from the groove strap were unbalanced. Even though each stroke had been properly delivered, the lack of symmetry made it appear unattractive, around my crotch.

I was fully aware of Master Mark’s house rules, that I must present myself at all times in an attractive, feminine manner, and that his sense of fair play wouldn’t allow him to make me take more than my allotted number of strokes. What to do.

I could sense the way this needed to go, but I couldn’t work out how to set it up.

Mark could see me working on it, and asked, “Would you grant your Sir the pleasure of your lips kissing mine, sweet Katherine?”

I shuddered with a thrill of passion, at being asked in such a chivalrous way for that simple thing my Master could so easily have just taken as his right. At the ease with which he set up a scene so rich in girlish daydream that I slipped so readily into it.

Lifting my lips, I replied, “To grant you such pleasure Sir, would be an honor that I would hold in my heart for ever.” Master Mark gently kissed his lips to mine, holding the caress too long to be considered chaste, but not so long as to be thought passionate in any way. And yet, the swirling sensations in my mind and body were way beyond anything that could be observed.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Mom watching this interplay, a smile on her face, as I responded to that kiss as it ended. “Thank you , my brave Knight, may I humbly request that you grant your servant the pleasure of a kiss in return. Yet lay the kiss of leather on my secret lips, as yet unmarked by the sign of my Master’s love, in order that I may appear complete in your eyes.”

Laying back, I presented my cunny to the groove strap, carefully aimed along the centre of my untouched labia, a full pattern of three bright red stripes now drawing attention to the heart of my sexuality. As with all my discipline, it ended with a warm hug, and some cooling body lotion, applied by two of the people I love most dearly.

We all went upstairs to get ready for the afternoon, Mom into her bedroom to change for work, Mark and myself into my room to get dressed for a shopping trip. Normally I would choose my clothes to suit my destination, my mood, and how they would be appreciated by Master Mark, but now I actually had my Sir in the room with me. Selecting an outfit, I would hold it against my body, and ask for his approval, then either lay it on the bed for consideration, or return it to the closet and pick another. The final three were a cotton flower print dress, in greens and yellows, a cream lace dress with short sleeves, and a satin underskirt,

or a purple chiffon sundress in several layers, with a single shoulder strap, decorated with chiffon flowers.

Mark chose the purple chiffon dress, and told me to put it on, with white strappy, high heeled sandals, then walk up and down to display it to him, watching as I sashayed round my bedroom, twirling on the turns, so as to lift the hem. The material was quite clingy, moulding round my nipples, and when Mark ran his hand over my lower tummy, there was just the hint of my mound and slit. It wasn’t a full camel toe, but it would be discernable to anyone who was sexually aware. I usually wore this dress with undies that were heavily embellished with embroidery, ruffles, or bows, so the outline would show through, but my Sir decided I should go without underwear today, so it would be my body that was the focus.



When we went downstairs, Mom thought I looked delicious, as Mark told me to parade for her, and she’d be quite happy to miss work and spend the rest of the day with us. Of course, Mark wouldn’t hear of it, so we dropped Mom off at her office, with arrangements to collect her at five, then Mark drove us to the Mall.

All the way there I kept thinking, “I get to go shopping with my Sir, and I’m so excited, my panties would be wet through already, if I was wearing any.”

We parked up, and Mark said I was to walk with him, one hand on his arm, the other resting flat on my tummy, wherever we went, and I was to maintain position. Rather detailed instructions, I thought, as normally he would just give me general guidelines whenever I went anywhere, and when we were together, I’d just follow wherever he went.

Walking across the parking lot towards the Sears entrance, Mark asked me to focus on my body, and its reactions to stimuli, but to control my responses so that they were not automatic, but maintained the status quo. I ran a commentary for my Master’s benefit, I could feel the hem of my dress on my thigh with each forward step, and the back of the thigh on my trailing leg. Each calf muscle tightened as my sandals struck the walkway with an audible click of the heel, then I felt my unrestrained breasts move against the lining of my dress, a tingle flash at the base of the teats.

The light breeze was warm against my bare skin, when Mark pointed out an eddy in the leaves and trash to one side of the walkway, several yards in front of us, telling me to keep my control in check. The stronger wind reached us just then, flipping up the hem of my lightweight dress, my hand twitching in an attempt to push it back down, but restrained as I pressed it to my tummy instead, my Sir pressing the hand on his arm just a little more.

He told me to look at him, to hold eye contact, while describing what was happening, but also to monitor the couple walking towards us, by using my peripheral vision. Continuing, I told Mark that I could feel the dress across my lower tummy, the left side of my mons, and over my left thigh, but quite high up. The stronger, warm wind was blowing over the right side of my body, as if the dress were folded back to expose me, and I could see the approaching couple take notice, whispering to each other, glancing away, then back again. There was a tingling heat starting in the top of my slit, my pelvic floor tightening as the excitement rose.

Still looking into my eyes, Mark told me to relax my muscles, but focus on where the tingle travelled through me, the places it touched. My skirt fell back as the warm wind passed, restoring my modesty, but the sensations carried on, down the outside edges of my large labia, behind my pubis, and especially along its boundary lines, building. Sir directed me to consider what that couple had thought at catching sight of a young lady exposed so fully in public, yet completely accidentally, walking with her Master, so wrapped up in each other as to be oblivious to the outside world.

Would they see the tremor in my thigh, the slight tightening of my tummy, as I tried to suppress them, the glistening sparkle of girl juice that coated my smooth cunny? Is that what they were talking about, this fortuitous glimpse of a half naked girl’s secret charms, her obvious arousal by her companion, to such an extent that they were able to continue looking until they had completely passed by.

The sexual fires were blazing inside me now, through my pelvis to the base of my spine, then upward, swirling around the column as I struggled to prevent my shoulder blades drawing back, and my head tilting up.

I leaned harder on my Master’s arm, listening to his quiet voice as he coached me on a level of sexual control I’d never known before, wrapping my mind around the blazing heat burning through my pussy, deep into the core of my tummy. I could feel the deep tremors fighting the relaxation I was willing upon them, calming their strength, yet on another level they coiled the unreleased power.

“Come on Katherine,” he whispered, “you do all things to please me, your Master. This body belongs to me, and it pleases me for you to hold your raging passions just below their peak, as you wait for your Master’s permission.”

His lips were so close to mine as he drew us to a halt, his arm round my waist, then he softly kissed me in the middle of a busy public parking lot. Breaking the contact, my Sir breathed into my ear, “Only when you taste your Master’s tongue, Katherine,” and he kissed me again, with feather touches of our lips. Soft, lingering caresses that left me breathless, 3 then 4, another, holding a little longer, then the tip of a warm tongue slipping between my lips, the remembered love of my Master’s taste.

I was cumming. Torrents of sensation washing through my hips, between my legs, like warm water poured over my body in the bath. The usual seizure was missing, no thrusting of my hips, seeking penetration, or increased pressure, just a light tremble rising up my spine, my shoulder tightening, head beginning to lean back. Mark’s hand followed the ripples beneath my skin, cradling the back of my head, his arm tightened round my waist, supporting my weight as my legs buckled, holding me pressed against his body.

We stood there in a lovers embrace, my Master’s kisses on my neck, whispered words of encouragement holding my climax in a steady release through soft, trembling loins, words of praise lifting my heart till I thought I would burst. Finally I was just cooing into his shoulder, breathing in the fragrance of this wonderful man, who could play my body with the mere touch of his tongue. As my legs returned to being able to hold me up, we looked into each other’s eyes with mutual pride, then I kissed my Sir, with a soft, “Thank you, Master,” of deepest appreciation for all he had done for me.

Giving me a hug, he gently turned me to continue our walk towards the mall, one arm round my waist, his fingers stroking the curve of my hip to bring after thrills across my lower tummy.

As we walked through the doorway facing Sears main entrance, the automatic doors swished aside, no longer holding back the breeze on that side of the building, the warm air rushing past us. Lifting the back of my skirt for a moment, it played over my bottom for all to see, then dropped the chiffon to cover me modestly once more, yet leaving that image in the minds of those following behind us.

Once we were inside Sears itself, Mark escorted me into the women’s formal dress section, approaching one of the young sales assistants, Eleanor Wilton it said on her name tag, and she looked about 18 yrs old. He told her that he’d reserved a dress for his friend Katherine, indicating myself, and asked if she would assist us in fitting the garment. Eleanor looked genuinely pleased to be able to help, taking the reference number Mark handed her, and disappearing into the stock area after excusing herself.

I told Mark that I recognised Eleanor from previous visits, some on Girly Days with Mom, a couple of times during visits when I was alone, and 3rd November 2012, last year, when I had taken my friend Sophie on a shopping treat. When Mark enquired if she’d been helpful, I confirmed that Eleanor was extremely obliging during all of my previous visits, and was rewarded with that lovely smile my Master gets when he is planning something.

She returned a few minutes later with a creamy beige, full length dress that I instantly recognised from my shopping trip with Sophie last year, but made no comment as Eleanor presented her sales pitch with expert ease.

This is an Adrianna Papell Beaded Gown which is femininity, exquisitely defined. A one-shoulder silhouette is the backdrop for exquisite, hand-beaded detail that evokes the vintage feel of a beautifully refined era. It has an asymmetrical neckline, one-shoulder style with a shawl effect, and a side zipper. The bodice is blouson-style, hand-beaded throughout, with a lined, floor length, flowing skirt. If I would care to try it on, she would be only too happy to assist me in any way she could.



Eleanor had described this same dress to me on my previous visit, but not in so much detail, or with such obvious enthusiasm, although I did have young Sophie with me on that occasion, so perhaps she thought there was less chance of a successful sale. Today, however, I had my gentleman friend with me, who had already reserved this dress, so would probably be more agreeable to buying it.

Personally, I would have bought it on the spot, but I wasn’t about to pass up the chance of some changing area fun and frolics, especially when my Master was here with me, on this very special day. Another thing I love about this dress is that the color is listed as Nude, and I just love walking about in the nude..

Gracefully taking up her offer, I went to try the dress on in the fitting room, along with Mark and our shop assistant, Eleanor, who was quite comfortable when Mark declined her suggestion that he wait outside while I changed.

Mark took a seat where he could watch my reflection in the mirrored wall as Eleanor unzipped my dress, and slipped it from my shoulders, baring my breasts, then over my hips  to expose my bare bottom, which her hand brushed over, and my shaven pussy. I stepped out of the chiffon puddle, clad only in white high heeled sandals, noticing how Eleanor watched me turning as I admired my nakedness, then her eyes following mine as I studied the shiny wet trails down my thighs.

“Oh dear,” I apologised, then Mark added, “It looks like Katie got over excited about her birthday present, Eleanor. Would you have some tissues she could use?”

“Please don’t worry about it, Sir,” she answered, “we often have to clean up in these situations, and I much prefer my customers to be.. enthusiastic, shall we say.” When I turned a little, Eleanor noticed the cane marks on my bottom, raising her eyebrow, so Master Mark explained that they were part of my birthday spanks, but I still had a few more to take this evening, and she seemed satisfied with that.

I’d expected her to hand me the box of tissues, but Eleanor knelt in front of me, softly dabbing the trails of girl juice on my thighs, then looked up and asked, “May I Miss?” as she held a fresh tissue towards my glistening slit. When I nodded, she ran the tissue down my slit, and across my labia as I parted my legs for her, then repeated her action several more times, stroking across my clit as she did so. It was quite obvious from the smile on Eleanor’s face that she enjoyed her work, and I was happy to brighten her day, but at last I was presentable, so she went to fetch the dress for me to try on.

I wasn't impressed when I saw it on the hanger, because I had in mind how it had looked when I tried it on last time I was in the shop, but I fell in love with it all over again when Eleanor fluffed it up as she held it for me to step into. The beading looked absolutely fabulous, giving the dress itself a lovely formal appearance, and yet it was still very comfortable to wear. This one was a size 12 and fitted like a glove, not too loose where my body narrowed, nor pulling across my hips or bust, and the folds of material seemed to drape perfectly.



There were issues with the zipper not sliding up because the fabric got caught in it when it went past the waist, but Eleanor showed me how to hold the net away from the edges, while Mark raised the zipper, and it closed alright. It makes it a two person job to fasten it up, but that’s a small sacrifice for an absolutely gorgeous dress.

While it was a very attractive colour, more beige/latte under normal lighting, but on me it’s quite a nice change to the regular pink/cream/whites that don't normally flatter my skin tone, in a brighter light, such as the mini-spots near the mirrors, the pink tone does show up a little. Eleanor re-arranged the folds a few times, showing me how to turn them backwards to catch the light differently, as well as the way the top would drape differently across my breasts, especially without a bra.

Unfastening the dress so that the front fell away to drape over my arms, she studied my bare titties, touching them gently to explain how sat differently on my chest when a little support was added, courtesy of her warm fingers. Although she admitted the dress looked much better without bra straps all over the place, it could be improved by a slight re-shaping underneath. Lifting it back onto my shoulders, but not fastening the zip, she slid her hands under the material, round my ribs, to rest just below my bust, her palms cupping my globes. Gently lifting and squeezing, we studied the small changes in my figure, Master Mark also adding his suggestions, while Eleanor obliged by manipulating my now throbbing breasts.

Slipping the dress away from me again, she excused herself for a moment to bring some bust enhancers, leaving my stood virtually topless as she exited the fitting room without closing the door. Mark had me turn slightly several times, so that different views of my bare breasts were presented towards the open door, and anyone who may walk past. There were a couple of customers who went by the opening, glancing in, sometimes for quite a few seconds as Mark and I stood chatting, and another of the shop girls, Chloe Pritchard, came in to ask if we were being taken care of.

Smiling warmly at her, I explained that Eleanor was looking after us beautifully, but had stepped out to get some supports to go under the dress, and Chloe stepped closer to say how much she admired the dress I was nearly wearing. She had an infectious giggle, running her hands over the material as she admitted that the dress is gorgeous and just breathtaking without being over the top. There is just enough material to have an subtle ethereal effect, but not so much that it becomes frou frou, or too showy. She also passed comments on my stripes, so I explained to her about my birthday spanks, pointing out the fainter marks on my titties, and lowering the dress to display the three lines along my hairless mound. While Chloe had hesitated to touch the marks on my bottom and breasts, her eyes widened as she couldn’t resist running a finger up the side of my pubis.

With a slight shudder, seemingly more of pleasure than of objection, she excused her forwardness, which I smilingly dismissed, then she went back to her work on the sales floor, before she was missed. Mark and I grinned at each other after she was gone, then said in unison, “Restroom”.

Eleanor was back with us a few moments later, carefully fitting the self adhesive pink silicone supports beneath my breast, taking quite a few attempts before she was at last satisfied with their placement, and had fondled my titties enough, without seeming to be taking advantage of the situation. The effect was definitely better, and she showed me how the two panels over the bust could be positioned with minimal covering over the peaks, and a couple of quick tweaks to my nipples firmed them up to create two very impressive bumps in the material.

I fell absolutely in love with this dress when I first wore it, and the more I paraded round the fitting room, the more endeared I became. It’s just so pretty, perfect for a glamorous occasion, it runs pretty long, to cover the whole leg, and the fit is breezy, so that I felt like a princess in it. This is a great evening gown, the fit and style worked well for me, and I especially loved the large bell sleeve on one arm, which provides more coverage while still showing off my curves. When I wore it for my birthday dinner I was pleasantly surprised how flattering the dress was as we walked into the restaurant, a mirrored wall showing our party as we entered.

Though the effect is very elegant and sexy, looks absolutely stunning when I stand by the mirror and chat, I wasn't sure about the mesh fabric, where I would have expected a softer chiffon, but it flowed beautifully in the breeze from the wide open door when Eleanor went out to find me the right heel to wear. While the length ran about an inch or two too long in bare feet, the sandals I had on lifted it just a bit too much, but that was simply fixed with the right high heels, and the material of the dress is incredibly beautiful when allowed to sway.

Eleanor had invited one of the their beauty consultants, Sally Weston, to call round to the fitting room, to discuss makeup and accessories, suggesting I pinned my hair up, wore drop Pearl earrings, and a small silver clutch. For make up I was a bit undecided since the dress is nude, but the beading is slate/silver, so with Sally’s help I ended up with two looks, either of which can go. One was with a black/shimmer Smokey eyeshade, with gold highlights, and an understated Berry lipstick, OR a soft golden eye shadow, with a blood red lipstick. I practiced both when I got home, and went with the first look.

Finally, Master Mark said it was decision time, and Eleanor watched as he asked of me, “Katherine, would you be pleased to accept the dress as your birthday gift from one who cares deeply for you?”

Clasping my hands in front of me, standing straight and proud as I looked into his eyes, I responded quietly, “I would consider it an honour, Sir, to wear this gift, and to have it adorn this body which belongs to you, that I may please you more fully.”

Stepping forward, Master Mark held my shoulders and kissed me, then slipped his arm round my waist as we turned towards Eleanor, and he told her we would like to buy the dress.

I'm 5'7", and I wore silver dance sandals with 2.5" inch heels, I liked that the dress had enough material to just slightly brush the ground. It felt like I was floating on a cloud when I was walking and dancing. It is a stunning dress, it fits perfectly, and it is so incredibly comfortable. It's really breezy, which made it easy for me to move around in, and for me to dance in, because it just seemed to flow round with me.

I'm still amazed at how beautiful this dress is, I loved it, and so did everyone else. I had multiple people in the restaurant stop me about my dress, even asking where I got it so they could purchase one for another event or wedding. I felt fabulous.

It wasn’t a really expensive dress either, although it was more than I would normally pay, at $400, but Mark was happy that I liked it, so the matter was settled. The price wasn’t a problem for me, as I thought it was excellent value for money, so much more so than some I had tried on with Mom on our girly days, or one in particular that always sticks out in my mind. When I was in Nordstrom, with Sophie last year, there was an Emilio Pucci Purple Georgette Inset Dress at $2,600, and while the material was beautifully soft, the overall effect was an everyday dress, that looked like it had been slashed with a large knife.

My dress, however, was exquisitely gorgeous, and my best birthday present ever.


:-)

Monday 11 November 2013

24 Birthday Bus Tour

24 Birthday Bus Tour


Grandad and Uncle Robert said their goodbyes, and hung up, leaving Master Mark on the line, then after some more praise for my courage, a little chit chat about general things, he reminded me that I had better put my school uniform on, or I’d be late for my trip. He had to hang up then because he had a meeting to go to, and a lot of other things to organise, but before he said goodbye, he instructed me to carefully read the instructions he’d included with my clothes.

The note had said, “A Birthday Task And Treat”, that I was to wear the full school uniform, and take a small bag, also that I was a representative of the school, so he was giving me a role play situation. I was glad that Mom was going with me, or at least she’d be nearby, but I didn’t understand Sir’s reference to not talking with any of my friends I might meet. Maybe he was taking me to somewhere I was known, such as my dance class. His comments about being considerate, and obedient to elders was something I would do anyway, but since my Sir already knew that, there must be a special reason for him to include them, so I would have to take extra care. Then his comment about the tour being interactive could indicate that someone he knew would test how well I behaved, or at least observe it. Ooo! a spy on the bus, how intriguing. Yes that was it, I thought, I’m required to write a report about what happens, and Sir will compare my version with someone else that is going to be there with me. Mom?

I re-read them again, just to make sure I knew what was going to be required of me in this task, but there were still no clues as to where I would be going, or what the Treat part of it would be. Whatever was to happen, I trusted my Master to look after me. Although, if I didn’t get dressed right away I was likely to miss the bus, and my trip would be to the headmaster’s study for a seriously smacked bottom.

Having just been spanked, then made to cum, I was my usual dripping, juice self between my legs, so gave my slit and thighs a quick wipe with a wash cloth, then a spray with my Little Girl scent. Mom bought me Avon Sweet Honesty when I was five years old, just after Dad left and we became much closer to each other. All through school it was my main fragrance, even Junior High, and High School, I would often use it instead of my more grown up perfumes. For a school trip like this one it would be perfect. My jewellery check was OK too, since I still had my gold studs in my ears from last night, and I’d removed my nipple, clit, and navel jewels for my spanking, as usual.

I slipped the underwear on, a pink satin bra that was all pleats and very fancy lace, then a pair of bikini panties, cut more fully than I would normally wear, with a lace panel at the front, laid over the satin, and several pink satin bows sewn on. The sizes were a perfect fit, as I fully expected from the man who knows my body so well, after all, it does belong to my Sir.

The skirt was next, a blue tartan pattern similar to my old High School style, but not that colour, and definitely much shorter than I would have got away with back then. There was a long zipper at the back, too long really for such a short skirt, a single blue button to fasten the waistband, and quite a few belt loops, though no belt with it.

The white blouse fitted beautifully, even the collar buttoned comfortably when I put the satin bow tie on, which looked quite good, and the front of the blouse had been tailored to mould perfectly round my breasts. There were no instructions as to whether it should be tucked in, or worn over the top of the skirt, but I remembered that Sir had once said how smart girls looked with a blouse fitted inside their skirt. I tucked it in, what else would my Master want, since this whole overall effect was leaning towards proper ladylike behaviour.

The final touch was pulling on the long white socks, three quarter length, not the over knee style fashionable today, which drew attention upward, along the bare thigh going under the skirt hem. These were Virgin socks, pure white to indicate the total lack of sexual experience of the wearer, marking her out as pure and untouched. I had loved wearing these at school, even in graduation class, when all my friends had dressed in more adult styles, and I would defend my choice as representing who I was. I didn’t need to project a false image of someone older, or someone who’d had sex encounters without any long term commitment. I had enjoyed my school life, and dressed in this uniform, it was easy to slip back into that character for a short while.

Mom came down, having changed into a skirt and blouse, handed me my small light blue purse, telling me not to open it, as it only contained a change purse in case I needed to buy a drink later, my phone for emergencies only, and a couple of personal items of no account. I picked up my ticket, which Mom said I was to hold in my hand, checked my outfit in the hall mirror, then we left to catch our bus, chatting about my birthday as we walked up towards the highway.

When we arrived at the pick up point, Mom sent me to stand by the post with the bus stop sign on it, while she hung back near a small trash can, and rang someone on her mobile. I felt quite isolated stood out there, and the memories of catching the school bus came flooding back to me as I looked out for its approach. After five minutes a bus came towards us, looking for all the world like a regular Lynx service bus with a blue advertising wrapper round it.




The morning sun was reflecting off the windshield, so I couldn’t see very well who was inside, although it looked fairly full, but there was sign in the front display board that announced, “Chicken Film Productions – Private Contract”, and another on the side, next to the entry door. When the door opened I climbed in and showed my ticket to the driver, who asked me to move down and stand towards the centre of the bus, which of course I did, acknowledging him as having authority.  I was holding onto one of the vertical rails, just in front of a small group of men, watching Mom as she boarded the bus, and a young man stood to offer her his seat, leaving her sat a short distance away from me, but still in sight of each other.

As the bus pulled away I looked round at the other passengers, honestly not very impressed, since I was expecting a more luxurious coach, filled with holiday tourist types, whereas this was more like the bus I catch to work sometimes. There were a couple of groups of schoolgirls further down, dressed in navy blue uniforms, chatting quietly, several smartly dressed men and women, some on the phone, some reading books or magazines, and a man several rows back reading The Sentinel. I couldn’t see much of him, other than his hands, and the top of his head, but he had a presence that made him stand out, and I couldn’t work out just what it was. Slowly, he lowered the paper, and there was Master Mark, on my bus, in my town, on my birthday, hiding behind a newspaper… My heart leapt to see him there, but he put a finger to his lips to shush me, having no doubt seen my face light up. I dropped my eyes quickly, once more looking round the bus, trying to calm myself, and get back into the character I’d been assigned.

Now I realised what he’d meant by not having interaction with any friends that I may have seen, and I’d nearly blown it, although the typically girlish scream I nearly made would have been in character. I kept glancing his way as I observed the others on the bus, trying to be obediently casual, and I looked over in Mom’s direction a few times, where the smile on her face let me know that she knew all about what was happening. On my next pass, Sir was looking directly at me, and held up 5 fingers, then motioned for me to lower my eyes.

As I stood patiently waiting for what would happen after five minutes, someone came and stood directly behind me, up close. I couldn’t see who it was, but after only a few seconds I felt my skirt move against my leg several times, then the hem was lifted, and I could feel the breeze change on my thighs. Suddenly, I had a flash of insight as to what was happening, but quickly suppressed  those thoughts as I realised what my character was supposed to do. As a schoolgirl I should be embarrassed that a stranger was trying to see up my skirt, so I smoothed the back down with my hand, but it was lifted again shortly after. We had a small hand battle for a few minutes, then my wrist was gently held, and my skirt hem lifted to be tucked in the waistband. My pantie covered bottom was fondled, a hand was running up the back of each thigh, and then a fourth hand began to work into the top of my panties, tracing down the groove between my cheeks.

I’d been enjoying the thrill of being publically groped, with my eyes kept demurely on the ground, but I glanced round to see there were now three guys stood behind me so I was shielded from the other passengers. The hand travelling down my bottom stroked over my rosebud, making me shiver, but continued further, to the dripping slit of my pussy, swirling round the wet entrance. Slowly it drew back, till I felt the wet finger right over my asshole, where it pressed gently till it slid through the tight ring, although I wasn’t clenching very tight at all. The hands on my thighs moved up to grip my cheeks, then pulled apart, spreading my cleft as the finger thrust deeper into my ass till I could feel his palm on my butt. The finger curled upward, hooking my tailbone from the inside, then lifting me till my heels were raised, and he kept going till I was stood on tiptoe.

Someone began to rub along the gusset of my panties, pressing them into my slit, working from my clit to my pussy entrance and back again, then pulling the material out so they could smooth it flat. While they were working my cunny up to a lather, the man who’d hooked me kept lowering me down, removing his finger, then pushing it back in so he could twist it round, deep inside my bottom. I was so glad that I had got myself nice and clean back there when I’d showered this morning. The finger was now turned forward, and began pressing against the back wall of my vagina, rubbing up and down till he was pressing against my G-spot, and I moaned quietly at the rush of sensation through my cunny. I don’t know if it was the man with is finger up my bottom, but one of them leaned close to me and whispered, “You like this, don’t you little girl?”

It was said in a stage whisper, with no attempt to conceal what he was saying, and I saw the man seated in front of me look up from his magazine, right into my eyes, as if waiting for my response.

Holding this new person’s gaze, I answered the man behind me, “Please Sir, I don’t like it, honest I don’t. I’m not supposed to let men touch me like this, it’s unladylike. I’m a good girl Sir, please don’t do this to me.”

The man in front smiled, and spoke to me, “Yes, you are a good girl, my little one. That’s why you’re going to do as you’re told, just like an obedient schoolgirl should.” He added, “Now why don’t you put your feet further apart, so this nice man can see if you are behaving properly.”

Obediently I spread my feet, feeling the inside edge of my shoes being tapped till they were about a yard apart, then  several pairs of hands went roughly to work on, and in, my exposed panties. I remembered to squirm in a token show of resistance, to this assault, but I couldn’t move far because the man in front was holding my clit hood, and pulling it upward. My panties were pulled into the crease of my bottom, exposing the cheeks, which were squeezed, pulled apart, and slapped several times. While the front of my panties were held up, the back was slowly lowered to expose my cheeks completely, then I was turned to face slightly towards the back of the bus.


:-)