It’s My Party - Sex Stories

It’s My Party

... deposited them in your skin. You now have the golden tan skin of a high caste Indian person. That’s why I renamed you slut zara.”

“Is that permanent too?” I asked fearfully.

“No,” she replied, “it will fade in a few weeks. But by then you will be comfortable with being slave slut zara and won’t care who recognizes who you used to be.”

She handed me the bottle of hair remover and said, “Use this on your wrists and ankles to finish removing all hair, then take a shower and go to bed. We will talk in the morning, and I mean eight o’clock in the morning. I want you sitting at the table naked when I come into the kitchen.”

“Yes, Mistress J,” I replied and took the jar of ointment. As I headed toward the bedroom, she called out, “Set a timer. Keep that on your skin for eleven minutes exactly.”

That was one week ago. My skin has lightened just a little. Mistress J kept me naked all of the time for the whole week. Once when a delivery man came to the door with a package, she made me answer the door naked and then stand there naked while I signed for the package. After the man left, she ordered me to stand in front of her with my legs spread so she could check my cunt. It was dripping.

“Do you need another orgasm?” she asked in that overly sweet voice she used when talking to me like I was her pet dog. When I nodded my head she said, “I’m too busy right now, but you can give yourself an orgasm if you lay on the floor facing the open front door with your feet up on ...

... the door jamb.

The house is way out in the country and sits pretty far back from the road. Someone driving past might see me, but my need outweighed my caution and I flopped down on the floor and rolled over on my back. I closed my eyes and started rubbing my slit.

A sudden slap to my breast caused my eyes to fly open. “Don’t close your eyes,” Mistress J said harshly. “Look out at the world that is watching slut zara jill herself off.”

I looked out at the countryside through the open door. The thought that people... hundreds of people... maybe watching me debase myself suddenly caused an intense heat to wash over my body. I screamed and writhed and lifted myself up off of the ground so that only my shoulders were on the floor. My orgasm was like an explosion in my body. I could feel myself quivering as my back slowly returned down against the floor. Both of my hands were pressed firmly against my slit and I had eight fingers pushed into my cunt.

“God,” Mistress J said in mock disgust, “you are such a slut, zara. You are already a slave... a slave to your needs.”

“If you say so, Mistress J,” I answered, still in a post orgasm daze. Then she told me to stay where I was for fifteen minutes.

She walked into the kitchen and came back with one of those old-fashioned timers that you twist to set. She set it on the floor next to my head and said, “When this dings you can take your hands out of your cunt. If you do that before then, you will regret it.”

It was easy ...