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A Day Shopping, Slave Style

How a few kinky little things completely change a trip to the mall. (Based on a true story.)
After a few weeks of exceptional service, even by my high standards, I've decided to take my slave shopping as a reward. Soon she will be out of the shower, so I begin searching the closet. I stand and contemplate my choices for a few minutes. I think to myself, today she will be my slut.

With a smile, I pick out a chainmaille top I had custom made for her, and her micro black suede skirt. I grab my favorite net stockings and a garter belt and walk into the bathroom as she is stepping from the shower. “This is what you'll be wearing today,” I say. “Get yourself ready to go out.” Being the good girl she always is, she obeys.

Returning to the closet, I decide I’ll wear a medium grey suit, lavender shirt, and the black and purple paisley silk tie my slave had bought for me herself, finishing off the look with a pair of highly shined black leather shoes, and a matched set of silver M/s cufflinks and tie tack that a friend made for me years ago.

Scanning the toy drawer I spot the magical little remote-controlled egg that I use to tease her in public. I put in a fresh set of batteries and push the button to test it. Seeing she's standing only a few feet away, I know she's instantly wet upon hearing the low throbbing hum.

I shut it off as I turn to her, holding it up so she can see it. Knowing immediately what I want, she rushes to me for insertion. She's plenty wet, but she opens her mouth to accept the egg for lubrication, just another step in this dance.

Turning, she puts her hands on the dresser, spreads her legs, and arches her back. Sliding her skirt up with one hand, I take the egg and press it deep inside her, then give her ass a nice hard slap for good measure. Taking into account that the egg can be tricky in public with such a short skirt, I pin the coated wire used for retrieval to the seam of her skirt so it can't be seen.

She's wearing the delicate chainmaille collar that never, ever comes off, but I grab a heavier working collar, which is a half-inch thick byzantine-style chainmaille, and the matching leash. With all of that stainless steel, it catches everyone's eyes, even in near-darkness.

Living in Dallas as we do, a sight like this isn't unheard of in the general public; in fact, it fits right in when going to Deep Ellum or the Oak Lawn area. What would be the fun in that? Instead, I drive to NorthPark Center, one of the higher-end malls in the area. Parking is great before noon on a Sunday, and as we get out of the car, I reach between the seat and console and grab my black riding crop. Being a gentleman, I go open her door and offer her my hand to help her out. I put the collar on, attach the leash, and off we go! Today will be a very special day indeed.

We stroll around, looking more at people's reactions this early in the trip than anything else. For the most part, people gasp or point, but one couple that obviously wished they could be so open gives a discreet ‘thumbs-up’.

Leading her into a nail salon, I have to chuckle as the manager nearly snapped her neck taking a closer, second look. As they direct us to a chair, my slave looks up at me, and I tell her to have a seat. I then begin telling the girl how I want her nails done. Looking slightly puzzled, she turns to my slave. “Is this what you want?”

My slave turns to me, and with a silent nod of approval telling her she may speak with the manicurist; she turns and says, “Master gets what He wants.”

Blushing, the girl begins her work.

I reach into my pocket and press the button, watching intently as it sends immediate chills up my pet's spine. The low hum blends nicely with the droll sound of the manicurist's tools and is virtually undetectable. A sly smile bends my lips as I watch her shift and squirm in her chair. She knows she's not allowed to orgasm without permission, and I plan to test that today. As I watch, I can tell she's fast approaching that threshold; her eyes shut tight as she fights to keep her body from betraying her.

I quickly shut the vibrations off, and begin randomly flicking the power on and off so she doesn't know when to expect it. A low, evil laugh escapes me as I turn the egg off while the manicurist puts the finishing touches on her nails. My good girl has kept her focus and broken no rules; she is flushed and horny, her legs refusing to hold her steadily.

As we exit the parlor, I notice that foot-traffic is a little heavier now. A leash would be a lot less noticeable in a heavy crowd. It's not heavy yet, there are just more people to notice; just the way I planned today to be.

Spying a few benches near the salon, I head there to allow my pet to regain her composure. As I sit, I point down; she quickly kneels just to my left. Our presence is becoming more noticeable as we sit here; chainmaille, a leash, and her kneeling before me are combining into something people just can't ignore at the mall. They are rushing past, stopping to stare openly, or watching us so intently as they pass that they plow into other people.

Deciding it's time for more fun, I use my crop to tease her nipples; her head is down, but her eyes beam up at me. As I gaze down upon her, her smile tells a story that goes far beyond happiness. Parading her in public this way is one of the ways I show her I'm proud of her. She's drinking each and every moment in, making me even more proud.

She's had enough time to rest, so I stand, leading her off to find some shoes to match a latex mini-dress I recently bought her. It takes a while, and after a few stores, we come across a pair of purple stilettos that are just perfect. The attendant, a young man in his mid twenties, goes to retrieve a pair in her size. After she's seated, he attempts to slip one on. With no loud equipment to drown it out, I push the magic button; the low hum catches his attention.

Naturally, odd noises tend to make people look to find them, and he's soon staring directly at her glistening, silky-smooth pussy that's already dripping with her excitement, fully exposed under her short skirt. Her clit is staring back, swollen, pulsing, throbbing and begging for attention. For what surely seemed like an eternity to him, he stares, completely forgetting where he is or what he should be doing.

His mouth has fallen open, and I can see a puddle of drool beginning to form just inside his lower lip. He begins to lean forward, as if hypnotized; I loudly clear my throat, startling him. He jerks, looking up at me, then at her face, glowing with a knowing smile. His eyes drop again to her humming pussy, then up to me again. Standing hurriedly, he drops the shoe he'd gripped in his hand. His mouth slightly ajar, he nervously glances down to discover what we had both already seen, the inevitable hard-on tenting his pants, and a very noticeable wet spot staining his tan khakis.

For several silent moments, his face has been changing colors, deepening rapidly and fast approaching what could only be described as red carpet red. With hunched shoulders he shuffles away with a slight stagger. I turn off the egg, as it's served its purpose for now. Within minutes, a female attendant emerges from the back, already blushing. I can only assume that the young man before her had shared the reason for his plight.

She finished the fitting quickly, intently staring at the floor whenever she could and completed the transaction with few words, maintaining her blush the entire time. Now, with our shopping done and a second hunger now apparent, I lead my slave back to the car.

I pick a nice little cafe with a patio area and we go in. It is only half-past two and the cafe is currently almost empty, but I know it will begin to fill up soon. I request a table outdoors, as the weather is great today, especially for it being mid-spring.

Our waiter leads us to our table, and looks slightly confused as my slave ignores the chair he pulls out for her, instead kneeling next to me. I turn my chair, facing her, slightly sideways to the table, and bend down to kiss her forehead and remove the leash.

As the waiter approaches with our menus and drinks, I place the leash on the table and grant her permission to sit in her chair. We both order light meals, not wanting to be full for our later activities. As we eat, I can tell that the new patrons entering can see that we haven't exactly been doing a little shopping after the morning's church service. I think a few even spotted the riding crop lying across my lap, including a mature lady, about sixty, sitting at the next table, openly glaring at me,

With the way my chair is turned, she's almost directly in front of me, and I quickly decide that this genteel lady will most definitely become my mealtime entertainment. I began playing with the crop, rolling it up and down my thighs so she can't ignore it. I can't resist the urge to torture her just a little, already picturing her throwing her Bible at me, while screaming, "You heathen!"

Finishing our meal, I say, “Go get me a cig from the car,” not quietly, and slide the key across the table to her.

With a quiet, happy chirp of “Yes, Master”, my pet picks up the key and heads to the car. I look over at the lady glaring at me; I smile and wink. I've trained my slave to bring the whole pack, and I'm now using her training to screw with this judgmental woman even more.

When she returns, she kneels in front of me with my cigarettes in hand. Leaning forward, I pull one from the pack and tap her shoulder, whispering, “Don't worry, it's okay,” and then quickly, and loudly bark, “I said a cig, ONE. Take the rest back!” I lean back; she lights my smoke then stands and heads back to the car. I look again and this lady is fuming, she’s either about to have a heart attack or burst into flame; again, I smile and wink.

As my slave returns, kneeling again, the lady finally decides it's time to make her move, calling to her, “Miss?” With a nod, I permit my slave to turn and see what the lady has to say. Now standing, she says, “You don't have to let him treat you this way; he doesn't own you.”

My pet turns to me, smiling devilishly. Attaching the leash, I whisper, “Go ahead.”

My good girl then takes things to a whole new level. She slowly straightens her legs, bending forward to kiss me, and flips the back of her skirt up, flashing the old lady, and then stands. As I lead her past the table on our way out, my pet looks the old woman in the eyes and proudly says, “Hell yes, He does!”

Removing my suit coat as we approach the car, I push the button unlocking all doors, and then the remote button to start it. I lead her around to my side; opening the back door I toss my coat and crop into the front, letting the leash trail behind her as I push her head first into the car, seeking some relief.

After three or four hours of our kinky public foreplay, we're both more than ready. She crawls across the seat, and I quickly follow, closing the door behind me before turning and pushing her head completely down to the floorboard on the far side, shoulder against the opposite door. With her pinned against the front seat and the door, ass high in the air, I slide behind her, making it near impossible for her to move.

I push the magic button again, making her moan once more as I pull my cock from my pants and sink it forcefully into her, hunting for that magical egg. My hips thrust, pounding that now weeping pussy; I reach down, grabbing the leash, pulling back on it to choke her slightly.

My other hand shoves her skirt up, exposing her ass. Opening my hand, I begin spanking her between thrusts, the intensity of each growing rapidly. Short moments pass and she’s already seeking permission to cum; I say nothing. Driving even harder into her, her moans and whimpers escalate until she's breathless and begging. “Master ... May I ... cum? Your slave ... needs ... to cum, oh please! ... Master, may I?”

This is exactly what I've been waiting for, what I needed to push me over the edge. Moments before I release my load into her, I pull the leash tight and growl, “Yes, my dirty little slut. CUM! … NOW!”

Her body immediately begins convulsing, clenching around my shaft to make my own orgasm even stronger. She's milking me, causing me to fill her to capacity and beyond, our combined juices trickling from her and running up her shuddering body.

Collapsing, spent and sweaty in the back seat, we rest for a while, trying to regain ourselves, and then head home for something a little spicier…

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright ©2015 Black Talon BDSM. This story may not be reproduced in any manner, without the express permission of the author.

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