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" Lightly, but deliberately, she smacked me on the side of the hip with the baton. "From now on, Sara, you are not to speak unless spoken to. Do you understand?"Flushing hotly, I muttered "Yes" and nodded at the same time. My arms were clamped across my chest again, my shoulders were hunched, and again, my knees pressed hard against each other. I was such a coward. I deserved to be talked to like this. I deserved to be smacked with the baton, or made to do anything else she thought fit. It's such a blessing that she didn't make me get down on my knees and kiss her toes. I wouldn't even have balked at that.All because of those pictures. Those damned pictures."Get dressed," she said. "It's getting late." Yes, ma'am," I muttered, not even bothering to curse myself. Picking up the panties, I prepared to step into the right leg hole when Amber—excuse me, Mistress Amber—reached out and roughly snatched the towel off my body. I started and cried out, hopped sideways on my left foot and tried. The dress is short, withlong sleeves, and zipped at the front, the zip biased to the left, with abiker style collar. There are zips at the sleeves, and false pockets onthe torso and right breast. I stroke the soft leather with my fingertips.It is impossible to explain to a man who has not done so the sheer eroticcharge of wearing a dress like that. I could describe to you the thrillthat shivers through my body as I unzip the dress and slip into thesleeves, the feeling of delicious constraint as I zip it up again, thefabric clingimg to me in a way that men's clothes simply don't; thespecial way that the leather, mediated by its silky lining, slips andslides against me. I could talk about the visual impact of the dressreflected in the mirror, the dull sheen of the leather glowing quietly inthe dim light and the contrast of its darkness against my pale skin. Butunless you have felt and appreciated those sensations yourself the wordswill mean nothing to you.First I must go through.
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