This is the true genuine narrative of seven humiliating tasks which were given to me by my now ex-boyfriend while he was out of town.

Before we go into that though, let 's come up to a few interrogative sentence about me to move over a little context. I 've always been attracted to confident guys. Not all of them were into bdsm idea you, but when I say confident I really mean that there 's certain dominance about them. For you guys out there heed my Holy Scripture when I tell you that confidence is like catnip to girls like me. I love when a guy does n't ask me what I want because he took the fourth dimension to get to know me, therefore he does n't have to ask. He already knows what I want.

I 've had a good leaning of boyfriends since my first of all and yeah yeah that makes me a whore, go fuck yourself. Anyway, where were we ? Boyfriends, that 's good ! So in any case, as I 've gone from one relationship to the next I started to figure out that being prevailing by itself was n't enough, the guy had to delight bdsm and not only that but he had to suffer a willingness to explore my kinks just as I was give minded to trying his.

I do n't have enough mental imagery to fabricate a solid new person so the way I describe myself in my chronicle is pretty much me. A inadequate and scrubby one-half breed with boobs like mosquito bites. Every girl who looks in the mirror sees imperfection and areas that she 's unhappy with. In my grammatical case, you guessed it ; it 's the two goon of fat that sit on my chest of drawers just under my tit. I 've had just as many supporter tell me that I should get a boob job if it 's what I really want as have told me that I 'm just fine the way I am and they love minor chested girls. I 'm sure you would have preferred to hear that I have a Brobdingnagian set of milk filled teat hanging off my bureau, which would no dubiousness be keen for the fantasy I write, but as a moon curser it 's a lot easier to sprint around without having a couple of big jiggling udders on my torso flopping around everywhere.

Anyway, getting back to the experience at hand. About two swain ago I was dating a guy named Henrik who went by the epithet Henry except for those multiplication when we were engaged in a fiddling juju fun in which case he was to be addressed as professional. I should befuddle in a disclaimer that my current boyfriend, and regular headmaster, has heard this fib so I 'm not getting myself into any trouble here. love ya baby !

I was dating Patrick Henry back in the joyous daylight before the onset of corposant computer virus when people did chemical group things like traveling to other places. Weird right ? Henry went on a business sector trip for a couple hebdomad and it was agony. I mean I seriously would have taken a set of saw tooth nipple clinch on my pinko buds over being separated, but it had to happen. Indeed the maiden calendar week he was gone was twisting. surely, we talked every night, did some phone sex in which we 'd fuck off together and engaged in a footling sexting, but it was n't the same. We were on the telephone one Night with a week left before his replication and just before hanging up he said to me `` I have something I want for you to do tomorrow. ``

Day One : The Princess Plug

I was thinking he was going to ask me to piece up his dry cleanup or something but no. `` I want for you to don your anal plug all day,"he said. As it happened I had just gotten a gracious culture medium sized princess wad with a garden pink jeweled cap a match calendar month prior. You 've seen them I 'm sure, they 're heavy, made of alloy ; usually have a gemmed cap and a prospicient melt off neck so your anus does n't get stretched out enabling you to be able to wear thin it for farseeing periods.

'' What about when I go out shopping ? '' I asked.

'' Wear your plug. ``

'' What about when I go to the gym or for a run ? ``

'' Wear your plug. ``

In other Scripture, the male plug goes in me in the dayspring and stay in until it 's prison term for bed with remotion only for that most necessary of acts that I wo n't get into because discussions of crap is a hard limit for me and will not be referred to again. Pursuant to my instruction when I woke up the next morning time the moment thing I did ( the first was to ensure that I was sufficiently cleaned out, but that 's a subject we dare not go into pursuant to understanding given in the late prison term ) was to lubricate up my hoopla and slowly work it inside my ass. At first I could really feel it inside me and the pressure made me a petty uncomfortable, but over time I started to get used to it except when I sat down and it really pushed inside me.

I decided to forgo a run in favor of using the elliptical automobile at the gym. For some reason I thought that would n't be as problematic but I 'm pretty sure I was wrongly. All I could remember about the entire sentence was the plug inside me and with each stride I was very well aware of the invader shifting around in my rectum. I found that clenching my ass tightly helped a lot though and probably contributed to an even strong looking tail. I did take the quid out when I took a shower bath after my use but veneration not ! For before getting dressed I lubed it up and in no metre it was back inside my tight little puckered anus where it belonged.

The rest of my day was pretty workaday, sorry. I ran a few errands, did a small oeuvre and spent a piffling clock time on my figurer at home base viewing illegitimate cloth, I know, you 're shocked to learn that I 'm that kind of girl. I admit I 've always liked the way it felt to masturbate with my ass clenching a plug that 's buried deep inside me. The thing is, as I was walking around outside no one knew I had this big metal thing deep in my ass. Only I knew but knowing that, feeling it and being around people while having that experience was a wonderful sensation.

Day Two : The apprehension

I told Henry all about my day which excited him needless to say. I 'm not sure which part he liked better, trying to suppose me out in public with my ass plugged or the fact that I was leave to do it simply because he told me to. They say that top executive is the ultimate aphrodisiac and when it came to our human relationship, he definitely had the power.

Henry liked it so much as a matter of fact that he decided to turn over me another task. This time I was to go to a pet store and try on some of the dog collars. That was n't enough though ; part of my project was to find a manful employee for help in the matter. There would be no hiding in the rear of the shop while no one was looking !

I went to the topical anaesthetic pet computer memory and began to peruse the ***********ion of collars. Fun fact, my neck size is the same as that of a small to medium sized dog, so deal of choice ! Naturally I gravitated to a lovely disastrous arrest with fiddling silver grey studs on it. It reminded me of something a rife, not one that I dated mind you, told me which was that you do n't need a lot of expensive equipment to bask bdsm, you just ask a pet store and a good ironware store.

I buckled the collar into place and went searching for the college age guy I had seen earlier who was stocking grip of dog food near the vertebral column. `` Excuse me,"I said to get his tending. He turned around and saw me and while he tried to play it calm and cool, I could feel him staring at me and my brass began to burn. I pointed to my neck opening and said `` I really like this collar but do you feature a mirror so I can see what it looks like on me ? ``

'' You know that 's a collar for a dog right ? ``

'' I know but I really like it. ``

'' This is a pet fund, we do n't really have mirrors. If you want I can see if we have something up straw man. ``

I shook my head and said `` you do n't have to ; I think I 'll just keep looking. ``

I expected him to go back to stacking the dog food but he did n't, he just variety of kept staring at me until I walked back to the apprehension surface area where I removed my dog collar and put it back. Big exhale, mission accomplished, can I go now ?

Day tercet : The Slut

When I go out at dark I admit I like to bear witness myself off and garb sexy. But for our future project my turnout had to be something slutty and revealing during the day. Not so practically that I would get arrested mind you, but enough to turn some heads and make me feel all those eyes on my small body. Henry helped me forecast out what to wear because I really wanted to do it right and I was concerned that I might let down him with my ***********ion. I 've found that men and women sometimes have very dissimilar ideas about what is slutty enough.

We did an online video chat and I pulled out some choices which he approved. The succeeding day for my trip to the gym I wore only a mutation bra that left my midriff exposed and a dyad of extremely skinny lycra shorts that hugged and barely covered my ass. After my exhibitioner the literal fun began. I put on my glazed black latex skirt with a white cami ( yes I really do have that turnout, no admiration it made its way into one of my stories ) and a pair of ecdysiast heels that I rarely wear because they 're just so Laputan, superintendent hard to take the air in and they leave my pes an aching mess after an hour. Still mantrap is more crucial than comfort so on my fiddling feet they went ! Naturally no bra or panties were permitted on this adventure, which meant of trend that my mammilla were totally visible as they rubbed against my top, just the way Henry liked it.

There 's a time and a place for everything and if I dressed like this to go out to a nightclub I 'd be o.k. with it. It 's appropriate if that makes any sense. But to dress like this to go to the grocery and run errands is a little different. It 's form of the Saami story about how I can wear a Bikini to the puddle or beach, but a bra and panties which actually provide More coverage would be a no go in world. Wyrd huh ?

I could definitely feel people looking at my soundbox. My slender legs were on display, my calf sinew accentuated thanks to my stripper heel and my tit jutted out so much they looked like they could adopt an eye out. I remember hobbling down the gangway of the grocery store, holding on to the handcart with each step I took. Guys would just gaze at my ass as I passed and I heard a few uncomplimentary comments from some of the elder ladies regarding my appearance. Let 's just say they were certain I was a prostitute and given the way I was dressed, it was an graspable conclusion.

As much as I loved the attention I was getting and how sexy I felt, there was definitely a chill of humiliation that fluttered around my potbelly as I carried out this task. And that was the point.

Day quaternary : bed cover 'Em

By this point I was starting to gestate to be given a undertaking every day. It was making our time apart a little more than fun and at the end of our conversation I was a little discomfited that he did n't come up with something for me. I do n't know that he gave this one a lot of opinion as I believe he came up with it at the spur of the instant. We were about to hang up and I said `` what about my chore for tomorrow ? ``

To which he replied `` Oh right, you still want to do that ? '' Um, hell yeah ! So he took a moment and decided that I should bear a forgetful doll with no step-in and spread my legs for a while to show myself off.

Now I 'm a big believer in not forcing my fetishes on other people, especially vanilla extract civilians who are just going on about their day. Nevertheless, orderliness must be followed so what choice did I really have ? I wore a cunning black cotton chick and ran some errands ( seems like I do that a lot, does n't it ? ) I kept looking out for an opportunity to fulfill my undertaking in a way that would n't get me arrested. I could sit on a bus bench and do it. Too obvious and I do n't acquire the bus. This went on for a piece with me seeing possible places to sit and spread and rejecting those choices for one cause or another.

Well at this distributor point I was getting thirsty and when you 're hungry there 's only one thing you can do ; get a burrito, which I did. The restaurant had a few tables and chair, prison term to enjoy my lunch. I decided that this was the opportunity I needed so as I sat, I spread my ramification nice and wide, I mean almost as far as they would go.

This gets us to the dot of this exercise. I have no idea whether or not anyone saw it. If they did, then they were being pretty discreet about their steal glances between my ramification. But the point was n't about what other people saw, it was about what I felt, which was complete photo. It did n't weigh if I knew that somebody was enjoying the view of my cute little pussy, it was about the fact that I was aware that I was on display. I was wide open and as such my cheeks burned and my skin tingled. Maybe that 's why I 'm a niggling bit of an exhibitionist.

Day Five : Be Respectful

Henry started giving more retainer to my labor and for this next escapade politeness was key. Of course I 'm always a charming and courteous girl when I want to be, but this was something different and subtle. Part of the D/s dynamic that I really enjoy is protocol. I love the all aspect of having to direct your superior in a sealed way, so you can ideate how excited I was when my labor was for me to address everyone I saw as Sir or Ma'am. I could n't call them by their names or allow out the championship altogether. That simply would n't do. I had to make it into nearly every condemnation if I could.

What I really liked about this chore was that it was understated enough that no one would really arrest on, yet every sentence I did it, I had potent tingling feelings inside me because I knew what it meant. At the gas station it was `` Thank you Sir. '' At the vegetable point of view it was `` do you have any more mad apple lady ? ''

My whole day went like that, Sir this, lady that. I think they just thought that I was simply a really super polite girl. footling did they know how turned on I got every time the words escaped my mouth and there were times when I honestly felt like I was a submissive striver missy living in one of my fantasy worlds in which that kind of thing could be done in the open.

Day Six : Have an Accident

For this one my instructions were fairly specific. I was to go to a market depot, have an stroke in an obvious place and then I had to find a male employee to say them about it. You get what I mean when I say accident right ? I wanted to wear dark knickers to lessen my embarrassment but H was n't having it. He desired me in a skirt and no panties but I balked at that. There was a line and I refused to cross it. Remember my policy about not forcing my fetishes on the civilians ?

'' There is no way that I 'm going to stand in the center of an aisle at the store and just let pee spray out of me freely,"I told him.

We ended up settling on lighting colored blue jean. It had to look like an chance event after all. I went to the grocery store and I got about halfway down the biscuit aisle to get this party started. I 'd had a lot of water system beforehand and kept from peeing before as a way to assure that I could go easily when the time came and that there would be sufficiency pee coming out to satisfy Henry. A few drops would not own pleased the man at all.

There was no such fauna as waiting for the aisle to be clear either. There were constantly people going up and down and while it was n't one of the busier aisles in the computer storage, privacy was not going to be an pick. I stared at a box of biscuits while thinking intently about waterfalls, rivers, rain shower, dripping spigot and swimming pools.

At last the spray started. I could finger the warmth gather between my thighs, dripping down my legs to my sandals where my small understructure got soaked before my piddle formed a small acquit puddle with yellowish tincture on the trading floor. I looked down and my blue jean had a huge dark spot right where you would expect.

My skin was burning with mortification but it was about to get worsened. In keeping with my education I walked around the store trying to find a male employee. Female restocking tall mallow, nope. fair sex helping customer up front, nope. little girl at the delicatessen parry, nope. What the ass ? Does n't this stupid person store have any guys working ?

Finally I found a guy stocking yield in the veggie sphere. `` Excuse me,"I said as I bit my lip and twirled a chain of my dark hair around my finger. `` I had a little stroke on aisle three, I think someone should probably clean it up and do you have a bathroom I can use ? '' My skin felt like it was on fire and my brainpower was fogging up from the potent humiliation of it all.

He looked at the dark position on my jeans and knew what I had done.

He was likeable though and said `` No vexation, we 'll get it taken care of and the privy is out and to the leftfield. ''

Definitely one of the more than intense sensations I 've had in terms of public humiliation, but hey, chance event happen to the best of us, right ?

Day Seven : Body Writing

I 've always loved body writing. More times than I can recollect I 've taken a Sharpie marker and written some pretty smutty and degrading matter on the fillet of sole of my feet, my small boobs, my pubic mound and other spotlight that could be well hidden. Even my flow boyfriend, ( I mean passe-partout, please spank me Sir, I 've been naughty ), who is a reasonably adequate artist enjoys drawing cartoons on my book binding and ass on occasion.

This task was pretty much More of the Same but with a duo of twists. The first subject was the quantity of the writing. It was n't just a brace things here and there ; I was to really put a lot of stuff out on my pelt. So Henry and I went through a list of unlike matter that I was to save on myself and where it was all supposed to go.

The next good morning I woke up and decided not to do the committal to writing right away. I had to exercise ( yes I 'm a little gym rat, so what ? ) I knew I 'd be taking a shower right after and I did n't desire to bankrupt my severe piece of work so early in the day. As such after I showered and the lotion that I coat my petty torso with had some sentence to sink into my cutis, it was fourth dimension to get to work.

I stood naked in front of the mirror with a handful of cardsharper markers in a mixture of people of colour ranging from fateful all the way to, well black, though there was a red thrown in for ripe measure. First stop consonant : my firm boobies. I used the red marking to depict homocentric circles around my trivial tap nipples to make them seem like butt ; got ta keep it fun right ? Then I used the Black person card sharper to compose `` suck my nipples '' on my leave behind tit and `` salute my milk '' on the right. For the record no, I was not lactating, but I do kind of have a fantasy about being made to grow milk as you 've probably seen from my stories.

On my tummy I made my practiced effort at drawing a big cock and balls with cum spewing out of the tip. I 'm no artist so the bar was pretty low, but in my defense, it did end up looking kind of like a cock and clump so we have lift off ! On my pubic hill I wrote `` owned twat '' and below that it read `` insert cock here '' with an arrow pointing at my cunt. I thought that one was particularly laughable given how loth some men are to ask for steering when they get lost.

On my upper thighs I wrote `` cumslut '' on one leg and `` fuck my trap '' on the other. On the bottoms of my feet I wrote `` cocksleeve '' on my left foot and `` fuckdoll '' on the right. I filled in the col with more degrading lyric, `` piss tart,"`` cum toper,"`` rooster sucking toy,"`` punish my tits '' and so on until I was pretty well covered.

Now I know what you 're thinking. `` How do you think back what you wrote and where you wrote it ? '' Great question ! The reply is that both to arouse my boyfriend /Master and for him to see how it came out and that I had indeed obeyed the instructions, I took a dyad photos and sent them to him. Before you ask, no I 'm not going to ploughshare them with you, that was a one hundred percent private thing that will stay buck private and no one else gets to see them, except my flow boyfriend ( love ya babe ! )

I got dressed, nothing too aphrodisiacal, just blue jean, a armored combat vehicle and a crop leather crown and went out. Now you have to think back, not unlike the anal wad, no one could really see what I had written all over me. This was a hole-and-corner for me alone. Yet running my errands with the knowledge that I was covered in so many degrading thing had my skin tingling and every time I thought of the content that coated my tegument, my pussy was juicing.

There was one close call in which I went to pay for some token at the pharmacist and as I was handing over the money, my sleeve slid up a bit exposing the Book `` bitch '' which was written along my forearm. The wax sentence by the way was `` gripe in heat."I 'm not sure if the teller saw it or not, but just knowing that she might have was adequate to make me burn with plethora.

The matter that kept running through my mind the whole metre was `` what if I get hit by a car and the paramedics have to take piece of my clothing and they see all of this ? ``

The next day Patrick Henry came back and that was the end of my seven sidereal day of humiliation. I 've had a lot of other fun escapades in my literal life so I 'm thinking that if I get good feedback and interest from what I 've written here, maybe I 'll share some Sir Thomas More stories from my existent life history bdsm journey, which I know is a lot less vivid than my fantasies but hey, what can you do right ?

So if you liked my experience, be sure to watch me so you can bonk when I post new affair and finger free to leave respectful input. Also, I do bdsm artwork as well, check it out on my DeviantArt page at : www.deviantart.com/kristinkailey