I am squirming and ill at ease. Getting up and walking into the kitchen when I really don’t want anything. Unable to focus on anything on TV nor to hold any thought in my head. I am going back to visit you and…I can't tell whether I am excited or scared or both.

I came home with a sore bottom and a warm feeling last time. I was sobbing when you lifted me off your knee and led me so gently to your room. You placed such gentle little kisses on my cheeks and my lips and on my chest as I stood there; flushed and wet with tears. Wearing only in my underwear. Not speaking or moving when you nibbled my nipples through the lace of my bra and just brushed the front of my pussy as you ran your tongue along the waist band of my panties. And then pushed me back onto your bed. Laying me out; stroking me in just the right places.

Even when you lifted my wrists so gently above my head and secured them so firmly I was still engrossed in the affection in your touch. I got excited as your touches began to grow more vigorous. I have always been turned on my being called a bitch, feeling like I am being used to provide pleasure to someone else, feeling helpless and....used.

I was straining at my bonds to reach you, aching to taste you, to feel you use my mouth and cum on my face. I begged for your touch as I watched you slide your panties off. The burn of my bottom and humiliation of earlier fuelling my need for your pussy in my mouth. Parting my legs in the expectation that I would feel your tongue. I was begging and moaning for you as you teased me, squatting just out of reach and making me strain my neck as far as I could, my mouth wide and my tongue extended as far as I could reach, just barely managing to touch your sopping pussy. Starring up at the flexing muscles around your pussy as you hold yourself above me, calling me your cunt and your bitch. Telling me to lick and to beg for it.

Even when I watched the stream of your pee begin to flow I was so lustful, so in need of you, that I didn’t think to close my mouth or turn away until my mouth was filling and I was gagging.

You dropped sharply onto my open mouth and pressed yourself into it as you filled me until I thought I may drown, swallowing as quickly as I could to try to get a breath. So intent on trying to breath that at first I barely noticed that you were slapping and pinching my breasts.

I didn’t really have much alternative but to do as you ordered me that night. Driving home unwashed and with your pee in my mouth and hair. I was wearing only my heels, panties and shirt. I wasn’t going to stop anywhere like that but I did sit in the car for five minutes building up courage to sprint for the house (having discarded the idea of trying to get to the boot, get the rest of my clothes and put them on).

But that was previous visit. Now, told to come dressed as I have been seems more…open to challenge on my side. And that makes the fact that I know that I will do as you have told me feel even more humiliating; degrading; submissive. And naughty too! Even thinking of that young cashier’s cheeky "hope you have fun" as she handed me a bag with a white silk apron and black maid’s outfit makes my cheek’s burn.

You have told me to arrive with frilly panties, high heels and a maid’s uniform. And that if I have a coat or anything else even in the car with me, you will make me very very sorry. That’s all very well for you to say and all very sexy in theory, but there is half an hour of driving in heavy traffic with lorries and coaches high enough for people to be looking straight down into the car. What if I have an accident or a crash or break down or am stopped by the police?

And were you teasing or telling the truth when you said that it was the appropriate way to dress as you were inviting some friends over?