the experience of strangers, 12: what’s he doing?

It is day three, mid-week through my stay, and time for me to skim the pool again. I wear yet another business outfit, this in teal blue, the third of just three suits Amanda supplied, and I don’t know what I will wear tomorrow. Perhaps he will manage to have them all dry cleaned today.

When you’re with a dom for a full week as opposed to a few hours or an afternoon, you become subject to his routines. You may have forgotten toothpaste or have run out of moisturizer or need Vitamin water. Do you simply hop in the car and go to the store? Does he have a particular day he buys groceries? When is trash day and who puts the bins out? Does he get dry cleaning done, is it picked up, or does someone else do errands for him?

When we write about the D/s life, we tend to portray it as if it’s somehow cordoned off from daily routines. In fact, regular life goes on around us. Ordinary things have to be done. The question then is whether daily errands are a kind of time-out from D/s submission or a part of it.

Amanda incorporates all of ordinary life into my slave experience, but she is fearless in public, having me wear wrist shackles in the post office and attaching chains to my labia to hang down below my skirt when we’re doing grocery shopping. She wants to keep me in a sub-state every moment, never allowing a time out, and to condition me to see that I am a slave in all of life and not just the part of it behind closed doors. (For many in D/s, I know this is not always possible, and that’s fine. There are reasons to be discreet, friends and colleagues who must not know. Amanda’s methods are different.)

With Master Z, I have a week to watch his routines and the daily rhythms of getting things done, but he probably doesn’t have time to incorporate me into them.

Which leaves me still wondering how my business suits will get dry cleaned.

I am in this reverie when I hear Master Z scolding me: “I gave you an order.” I now recover in my mind the echo of his words a moment ago: “Take off your clothes.”

I return to the present, remove my blazer, fold it, and lay it on a patio chair. Topless, I stand before him. This has been his pattern with me the last two days, rendering me topless these mornings, in the house by the pool, in front of his brother.

His voice rasps now with frustration: “I told you to take off your clothes. I meant all of them.”

I blink. I wasn’t listening to him. This isn’t going well. I apologize: “So sorry, sir.”

“You weren’t paying attention.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t.”

“You will be punished for that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, finish taking off your damn clothes.”

I nod, unzip my skirt behind, and slip it over my hips to the ground. Still high-heeled, I step out of it, fold it, and lay it on the patio chair. I stand before him, my breasts perky, my pussy now bared.

Surprisingly, this is the first he has had me completely naked.

For a dom-stranger to have me for a week’s time creates certain dynamics. Mind you, I am trying to think here from a dom’s point of view, which I’ve never been very good at. But I have to believe that if I am gifted to a dom-stranger for a week, he would logically want to get as much out of me as he can — or perhaps better said, he will want to get as much into me as possible in a short time.

Master Z has not yet had sex with me. Well, not intercourse. It’s day three. And now is the first time he seen me fully naked.

He had me go down on him again yesterday. He sent me to the bar to make him a creamy White Russian, and, while he sipped it, had me take him in my mouth, eventually feeding me his own creamy cocktail. So, there’s that. And maybe he just wants to make me his daily happy hour. Oral, but nothing more.

I’m not complaining, and the experience of sex with a stranger is complicated anyway, so it’s perhaps best, this delay or postponement, sex not yet or even not ever. I’m just curious. A man has a girl who will do anything for him, a sex slave at that, and he chooses not to have sex with her. Hmmm.

Of course my mind circles and flits, and I wonder some things.

Master Z has not been cold toward me, but neither has he been warm. While there have been a few moments when he has engaged with me in clever repartee, otherwise he has shown an aloofness. While I don’t wish to make too much of it, he carries a military bearing. I wonder if he simply has no desire for the intimacy that intercourse with me would entail.

I don’t think that’s it. A man can have sex with you un-intimately, and in fact a lot of slave sex is exactly that. He can tie me down, tether my legs apart, and use my body without, frankly, my own intimate participation. For many doms, that’s a thrill in itself. He must know that.

No, I think this is about something else. I surmise this is his expression of power over me. He is restraining his own desire to fuck me to (a) make me want him more and (b) to demonstrate his power over himself and consequently over me. It is a kind of training of me to him. I can’t deny that for me those checkboxes are getting checked. If these are his devilish purposes, they are working.

But here is where the psychology of “event-planning comes in. If a dom-stranger has me just for this week and never again — if on Sunday morning I walk out of his life forever — then regardless of any power-play-and-training strategy, I would think he’d want to fuck me as often as he could in every way possible.

Master Z doesn’t seem to be thinking that way. And so, it’s my conclusion this will not be his only week with me. That is, I am deducing he’s already talked with Amanda about other times, maybe on a regular schedule going into the future. He isn’t having sex with me urgently and relentlessly right now because he doesn’t have to. He knows he will have weeks of me again and again.

He has me stand nude at his side by the pool.

As I have written before, despite a life of living in peeled layers of undress, when I am naked in front of someone for the first time, it is still a moment of heightened, self-conscious awareness — awareness of my body being seen, evaluated, and of my sex being ogled and desired. I feel embarrassed, excited, used, fulfilled. All of it at the same time. Being objectified is never old hat.

He slides his hand against my lower tummy and down across my skin. He hand is a rough as my skin is smooth. His fingers scroll down to my lower abdomen, then my pelvis, and slowly alighting on my vulva.

“You’re smooth,” he observes.

“I try.”


He has me turn around. He squeezes my ass cheeks hard, making me breathe in sharply.

“Can you skim the pool wearing your high heels?” he asks. “Without slipping.”

“I think so.” My shoes are four-inch heels, opened-toed and with an ankled strap, but the base of the heel is about a one-inch wedge, stable enough, it would seem. I assume he wouldn’t ask me to do this in a stiletto. I also assume his request is purely lustful. Who knows what lurks in the hearts of dom-strangers. His heart seems to want to watch me skim the pool nude while wearing high heels.

The apron around the pool is cement. The lip of the pool, about a foot wide, is smooth tile. If I stay off of the tile, I’m in no likely danger of slipping. I attach the net to the end of the pole and start skimming. The chore is a horizontal sweep in stripes, section by section. My breasts move in a gentle sway. I feel the sun on my skin, and small beads of perspiration on my brow and in my cleavage.

I have to lean over farther to get to the interior water. My breasts hang down as I reach, and my ass cheeks thrust out behind. I feel like a Playboy model posing in unnatural positions no woman would ever be seen in naked.

He watches me, his newspaper folded on the table to the side. As I get to the narrow side of the pool, he can see me from the front, my pale skin below my waist soaking sun and my pussy slit opening, unfolding, glistening.

2 thoughts on “the experience of strangers, 12: what’s he doing?

  1. Amanda, you know what men like, quite some time ago you fitted clips to both labia with chains and balls at the end. Then you were careful that these should be only an inch above the edge of the skirt and make a sound when Mistress Amanda and shae were in the groceries shop. Now you make the chains visible and the skirts shorter.
    Oh how I think about how and where they are attached. The mind spins.
    Last sentence, agree with silkenlash. Z wants to see something. And you have shown that when you bend and stretch.

    My theory is that M Z wanted to see if the arousal and wetness is visible as he has heard Amanda tell.
    Shae, are you sad 😢 about there is no sex to report the third day 🤔


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