Slave to a Vampiress Part XVII
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Slave To A Vampiress Part XVIII free porn video
Slave to a Vampiress Part XVIII - Tulip reminisces about her third date
with her beloved Mistress. And ........ this is far as I have written.
(I'm always a few months ahead of my stories, I've been coasting on this
one since late December.) I feel like I have lost my audience, I went
back and forth between Tulip's past and present way too much, which was
clearly confusing people. Whoops. I have a really good finish for this
story. At least I think it's a lot of fun, but I have'added should the
story continue' tag on it. Give me some feed back. I would love to hear
from you. I can speed up the story, no problem with that to get to my
really cool ending.
"But no release for you and I am dismissing you for the evening, your
duties are completed, satisfactorily."
I looked down. I felt terrible. 'Just satisfactory,' I thought to
myself. 'I am worthless.'
"Let me clear, you were awesome for a beginner, but practice makes
perfect. Soon, with proper guidance, your tongue will dance around my
privates, as perfectly as a prima ballerina. You get an A for effort,
Tulip, and I did have three orgasms, but I will be critical when
appropriate."
She kissed me on the forehead and patted me on the head. "Good gurl,
good gurl." If I had a tail, it would have been wagging. "Let's get you
locked in for bed."
Mistress lead me to my quarters, and guided me through my bedtime regime.
She had me give myself an enema, and then showed me how to remove my
makeup and properly clean and moisturize my face. She showed me how to
use the bidet to spray cold water on my sore ass. It helped sooth the
pain from my multiple whippings. "Now change into your pretty nightgown,
dear." I put on the long flowing satin gown.
'You are so cute, in your nightie. Now l think the only proper thing to
do is to make sure you are completely restricted down there. You little
bitches are constantly humping pillows, playing with your nipples and so
forth, trying to get yourself off. I want you totally frustrated and
focusing all your energy on me." Mistress unlocked my pink chastity
device. "This little number we'll deny all access to your clitty, and
flatten you so you won't have any unsightly bulges in your panties. It
comes in two parts. This sleeve is first. ". Mistress deftly slipped on
a stainless steel sleeve over my clitty with just my tip exposed. "Then
this chastity belt goes around your waist and your clitty sleeve slides
into this crotch guard like this." Mistress inserted my sleeve in place
with a resulting click as it locked into place. "and then the belt is
locked here in the back, so it cannot be removed, and this lock in the
crotch," Mistress inserted a key in the front of my belt," locks your
sleeve in place."
Mistress smiled at me. She groped at my secured crotch. "No
unauthorized 'self care' for you. Now hold out your hands." Mistress
placed leather 'mittens', over my hands, really leather balls that
prevent any grabbing or grasping anything. They are locked in place over
my wrists. "Climb into bed sweetie. I'll get you up early in the
morning, I have a super early engagement. She chained my collar to the
bedpost. "That's just enough lead so you can get to the toilet."
Mistress leans in and we French kiss for a full minute. "You are so sexy
there, all locked up. Love it. Goodnight baby." Mistress killed the
lights and exited. My stupid clitty was pounding against its prison, my
feeling of complete helplessness was an incredible turn on. Somehow, I
had to get some shuteye.
I snap out of my reminiscence of my third date with Mistress. I finish
up my last few laps and exit the pool. A couple of guys are totally
checking me out. It's the all over body tattoos, but hopefully, I mean
maybe, they are enjoying the view of my T&A. I head over to the locker
room, pack up my stuff, and I throw on my cozy royal blue swimsuit wrap
and my flip flops. I'll shower upstairs, thank you very much, in the
penthouse that I get to use. Once again, when I am riding up the
elevators for the whole spire, I marvel at how spoiled I've become with
our private elevator. I try not to groan or pout with each stop. Are
the guys on elevator checking me out? I hope so. Once inside mistress's
fabulous penthouse (I think of it as her place, I am just the maid with
certain benefits, I suppose) , I fly through my morning routine. I look
at my clothing options. When I am here in the apartment, mistress wants
me in my outrageously sissy outfits and maid's uniforms, that make most
tutus look butch in comparison. Her only firm rule for dressing me in
public is skirts or dresses only. No pants. Hey, I totally agree, not
that my view is the critical issue. Pants are for guys, panties are for
girls, and I am a grrrllll. I've spent most of my life wishing that I was
wearing the fabulous dresses, now I get to wear them and I am going to
take every opportunity to dress in the manner that I adore.
I decide on my chenille sweater dress in cream, camel, pink, and black
block striping pattern. It's warm and cozy on this blustery Autumn day.
I accessorize with my over the knee suede boots with a four inch stiletto
heel and a patent black leather back pack. I put my hair into a simple
pony tail. I spend some time fine tuning in front of the mirror. It's
Manhattan, you need to put yourself together well here, standards are
high. Those bitches will judge you and eat you alive. I head over to
the kitchen and eat a quick breakfast of an hard boiled egg, a navel
orange, and multigrain toast with a smear of skry.
Alright, this gurl is ready to get going. I grab my ox blood suede
trench coat and I now take our exclusive private elevator, no stops for
this grrrl, and I zip out our private lobby. We are just feet from the
subway entrance , and I dash on to the express subway, heading north.
It's a long ride up to the Bronx. 'Did I remember the keys to Mistress's
caddy? Do I have my driver's license?' Mistress secured my new
identification. Vamps are the masters of switching identities, since
they need to at some point, fake their death, and assume the identity of
someone new, to avoid suspicion of living beyond a person's natural
lifespan. My drivers license has my birthdate, but my new name, Trixie
Parisa Smith and chosen gender, for the outside word, female, thank you
very much. (My Vampire/Victim name has been and always will be Tulip,
but Mistress always liked my runner up name Trixie (which was taken by
another slave of a dear Vampire friend of Mistress), so she selected it
for my outside identity. It's a back handed reference to my turning
tricks at the truck stop when I was trying to escape Pennsylvania. I
like Trixie, It's definitely very femme, clearly lots of fun and a bit of
slut, just like me. Parisa by the way is Persian for fairy, another
inside joke by Mistress and Smith was selected, because it's ubiquitous.
(I've got a social security card, a birth certificate, and a passport;
thanks blackmarket Vamps.) Mistress used my credit card for a few major
purchases and paid them off, so Trixie could build up her credit score.
Todd has just stopped existing. He closed out his banking accounts, he
canceled his credit cards, he stopped working, and stopped filing taxes.
His clothes went to charity, and his yearbook, his diplomas, his
childhood pictures went into boxes, in an off site storage that mistress
rents. As far as the government is concerned, Todd has gone off the
grid, lives overseas somewhere, or died somewhere where they don't keep
records. Todd wasn't missed by many.
I ride the subway with that 'million mile' gaze all of us New Yorkers
get, looking at everything but focusing on no one in particular. The
neighborhood I get off at is a bit, how should I put it, transitional,
and I would never scamper around here by myself at night time, but the
during the day? Safe enough. I walk quickly and purposely the couple of
blocks, past scores of food wholesalers filling up trucks with every food
imaginable. Most of the conversations that I go past are in Vietnamese,
Russian and Arabic. I get to the car garage where the 'whale' is parked.
Mistress's big ass caddy. I start the engine and slowly crawl out of the
tight parking garage. I know mistress has super human perception and
reflexes so she wedged in this car with no problem at all, but what about
the poor slave who has to get this sucker out?
I head south, very carefully. I really don't like driving the 'whale',
it is such a land yacht. I feel like it always is too wide for it's
lane. I am driving to Mistress's art studio in the Northernmost tip of
Manhattan, Inwood. I wish I was in Mistress's all electric Porsche, a
much more sporty ride than the 'whale'. I pull into the secured parking
area for Zephyra's art studio, which is a giant converted warehouse
house. I drive up the ramp and open the large garage doors,
electronically, and drive right in. I park next to mistress's beat up
Ford pick up truck. Mistress is donating a new sculpture to support the
charity for the MOMA. It supports a charity that mistress cares about,
and it's a great tax break. The problem is that the statue is in bronze,
ways about a thousand pounds, and is probably worth three or four million
dollars. This a little bit more than mistress's maid can do on xer own.
Art theft happens all the time. Mistress, using her super human
strength, and probably one of her Vamp buddies for balance, has already
placed the statue on a shipping pallet. She couldn't leave it in truck
without blowing out the shocks. I put on a smock, actually it's one of
my old white office shirts that I put on backwards. (The only male
clothing that we kept, except for a few of my nicer ties that mistress
liked, and wears with a few of her pant suits when she is rocking the
'Annie Hall' look.) I put on one of mistresses many heavy duty leather
aprons she uses when she is wielding. I drag out a canvas tarp and drop
it over mistress's latest creation, and then tie it down with multiple
bungee cords. I attach the pallet to the chains of the electric crane.
(I feel very butch. Using a hoist and stuff. Dad might even be proud.
Well probably not.) As I start the lift, the buzzer from the front door
goes off.
Sherry
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