WBDP - Valentine's in Vegas

I woke Marcia up when it was time to get ready. When she showered, it was necessary to move the hoops while applying soap to them to ensure they stayed clean and moved freely through the piercings. While Marcia could do the ones on her nipples, she had to have help with the labial piercing as it wasn't that easy to see, so I took another shower with her.

I asked her how they felt.

"It's tender, Master. I knew they would be. Can't be poking holes in yourself without a little soreness, after all."

"I have some items for you to put on after we've applied your cream. I'll help you with your outfit."

"I have an outfit, Master?"

"As much as anyone here. You're going to look incredible. For today, I do not want you in position 1 at all. It may put additional stress on your labial piercing that we don't need. I do not want you kneeling or sitting on the pad at dinner. I will ask the waitress for a chair for you with a cushion. You will either be standing or sitting, as I direct. Do you have questions?"

"No, Master."

We got out of the shower and I applied the cream after toweling off, using a bit more than usual because we'd had to move the hoops. The numbing agent in there really did help the soreness. I gave Marcia her thigh high stockings which she put on, then the waist cincher. Her waist didn't need any cinching, but this was primarily to set off her legs as well. She buckled it to her waist, buckled each of the three straps encircling her thighs so that the lowest was at the height of her thigh high, then adjusted the connecting straps between them. I gave her the new bra which sat under her breasts and pushed them out to exquisite perfection. I gently kissed each one.

"These will keep your breasts from moving too much," I said, "but still leave them breathlessly visible." She laughed.

I then added some of the 'adornments' we'd purchased yesterday. I attached the gold bracelets with the chains that connected to her nipple hoops, the gold Omega slide necklace with the red 'for Valentine's Day' stone and chains also attaching to the nipple hoops. I had her put on the fuck-me pumps.

"Display!" I ordered.

She tried, but the high heels did not allow her to spread her legs that far apart.

"While you are wearing these shoes only, little slave, you may put your feet a shoulder's width apart instead of the usual spread while displaying."

"Thank you, Master."

I added black leather ankle cuffs to her ensemble and added an anal butt plug with a red crystal to her little rosebud asshole.

"Now for the Piéce-de-Resistance," I told her.

I carefully removed her new jewelry from the velvet bag. Two small golden bells with a diamond inset into the canon, or top piece of the bell which I also fastened to the hoops in her nipples.

"If they are too heavy, or your nipples become more sore than now, let me know and I'll take them off," I said.

"Master, they're lovely. Whatever made you decide to get these for me? Are those real diamonds?"

"They are real diamonds and do you remember at Christmas, you told me that you didn't think that you could ever hear the chiming of bells again without getting wet?"

"I do, Master," she said shyly.

"I think that you should be wet for me every time that you wear these bells."

"I'm wet now, Master."

I ran two fingers through her cleft. She was right. I licked her dew from my fingers.

"I have one more piece to make my slaves outfit complete."

I pulled from the velvet sack the remainder of her jewelry and showed it to her. It was another dangle for the labial piercing. Two hearts intertwining, with 'Sam's Valentine' engraved on them. Suspended below the hearts was another bell with the diamond inset as part of the bell canon.

Marcia gasped. "Sam, it's gorgeous. I can't believe you had this made for me. I love it." She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me, clinging to me fiercely.

Of course I had to ignore her forgetting to call me 'Master', didn't I. It was the reaction I'd hoped for.

"Let me attach it to your hoop," I said, kneeling before my Goddess. "They're quite light, but if they become too painful, let me know and I'll take them off."

"I don't know if I'll ever want them off again," she said, looking down at me as I clipped them to her hoop. "You're a most beneficent master to adorn your slave this way."

I put my arm around her waist and led her to the full length mirror on the closet door.

"Look at yourself," I told her. "What do you see in the mirror?"

She stared at herself, the lovely stockings and leather cincher, leading the eye to and framing her cunt, gold and diamond jewelry dangling below her sex; her breasts on a platter, nipples stiff and proud, chains leading to her collar and bracelets, bells swaying on her nipples as she drew breath, chiming with each breath she took.

For two minutes she said nothing, then, "I see a needy slut slave, one who wants to be fucked; a slave so beautiful that every man would want to fuck her, who at the slightest word from her master, would kneel down and take a stiff cock into her mouth and suck it until he climaxed down her throat, or bend over and take a cock into her cunt or ass and cum in an instant as it filled her. I see the personification of sex."

"That's what I see also, my little slave," I told her. "That's what I see."

I left her standing in front of the mirror and put on my outfit for the day, leather pants with three buttons over the top of the cock flap which would unsnap to release my cock in a moment, held up by two suspenders, although it also had straps going around my torso buckling over my chest and stomach. Masculine, casual, in black, so I didn't clash with my slave's attire. It had pockets for our room card and Marcia's cream and enough cash for a substantial tip for dinner. The dinner itself would be added to the room bill.

I collected my slave from in front of the mirror and headed down to the dining room with her. The rolling of her hips as she walked in her high heels was amazing. The dangling jewelry below her cunt forced her to walk with her legs slightly parted which accentuated the walk even more. I might have to give my slave heels more often, even around the house. My pants were already becoming uncomfortable. The bells on her nipples and dangles jingled merrily in tune to her stride. I believe she was walking with more pride and self-assurance than I'd seen since we got to Vegas. Freedom. Brianna was right. My slave really had blossomed here in Vegas.

We got to the dining room and found George, Dina and Brianna seated at one of the tables. I had Marcia display towards the majority of the dining room as we were sitting in a back corner.

I told her, "I'm going to get some drinks for us. I want you to display like this until dinner is served. You are a beautiful slave, people will want to touch you. Let them. Brianna," I said, "if my slave needs to cum while I am gone, give her permission." She nodded in response, and I told George, "Don't let anyone get too personal with her, she's just been pierced and everything is still sore. She is not anyone's fuck toy but mine." He agreed that he would keep an eye on her. I turned back to my slave. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Master."

Brianna was right, shortly after we'd chosen our table, it filled up rapidly, as did all the nearby tables.

The line for the drinks was fairly long and I was forced to wait around fifteen minutes to place my orders. As I stood in line, I would occasionally glance at my slave. She stood displayed for the entire room and quite a few of them wandered over to inspect her, most just looking, but a few touching, never obnoxiously. I saw one woman run a finger up a breast from the bra to her nipple and a man knelt down to inspect her labial piercing, reading the engraving and taking a swipe at her clit with his tongue. George said something and he backed off. I didn't mind so much, but I'm glad George was taking his duties seriously. At that point, I felt safe in ignoring anything happening behind me.

"I'd like a Manhattan and get me a frozen daiquiri for my slave," I ordered when I reached the bartender.

He fixed the order and I walked back to the table with our drinks. I gave Marcia a couple sips of hers before sitting down.

"How many times did my slave have to cum?" I asked Brianna.

"Just once. George was very diligent in keeping the most handsy away." She smiled at me, which I returned.

Don came over and gave me my check for the contest yesterday.

"I didn't think it was possible for your slave to look more lovely than she was yesterday, but I was wrong, dead wrong," he said. "You have found a way to make her more fuckable than I believed possible. Please come back next year."

"It's certainly within the realm of possibility. We have enjoyed ourselves very much."

Master Don leisurely swiped a finger through her cleft from sheath to clit, Marcia gasping at his touch. He stuck the finger in his mouth and walked away, muttering "Delicious, simply delicious". We had made our selections for the dinner as part of our check-in process. I had chosen Prime Rib with a béarnaise sauce, Marcia the chicken cacciatore. Precisely at 1:30 the wait staff began delivering our meals. Many of them had dressed down for the event and I saw a lot of lingerie on the waitresses and underwear on the waiters. Our waitress was wearing a transparent lace halter top and matching transparent lace panties below. Only the name tag hanging on a chain around her neck gave us any indication that she was a staff member, and not one of the guests. It read 'Mary'. I asked her to bring another chair for my slave with a cushion on it.

"It's complicated," I replied to her unspoken question. She returned with the chair and cushion and placed in beside me in place of the pad.

When she was done making the rearrangements, she asked, "Do you mind if staff members touch your slave?"

I glanced at Brianna wondering if this was one of her ideas. She shrugged her shoulders as if to say that she didn't know what was going on, but nodded, indicating I should allow it.

I said, "Be my guest," interested in what she would do.

She tentatively brought her hands under Marcia's breasts and up to her nipples. She closely inspected the piercings and the many chains leading to her collar and bracelets, and jingling the golden bells suspended from the hardened peaks. My slaves breathing quickened. She ran her hands down her waist, touching everything, examining the buckles and the tightness of the leather straps. Next, she ran her hand over Marcia's shaven mound, lingering at the clit, peaking from between her folds. Marcia's hips began to move slightly, pushing against her hand. Eventually her hand continued it's downward journey through my slaves honeyed slit, finding the piercing below, and bending down to examine it, read the engraving, testing the weight.

Her hand still rested in Marcia's cleft and pantingly, my slave asked permission to cum.

"You may cum, slave."

Mary left her hand there, feeling the contractions of my slave's cunt and the increased wetness as Marcia released, her mound rubbing against Mary's hand. Mary brought her hand to her face and sniffed the dampness, testing it with her tongue, tasting it.

"Must she always get permission to cum?" Mary asked.

"Unless she wishes to be punished," I replied.

"How do you punish her?" She asked.

"Slave, tell her how you're punished," I ordered.

"I am paddled on my ass, or my master whips my breasts and pussy. It varies, but he usually makes me cum as he does it. He is a kind Master," she said. "Most masters don't care if a slave is pleasured when she's punished."

She stood, saying 'thank you' for the privilege of touching my slave. "I'll get your dinners now," she said.

George was having Dina service his cock and Brianna said, "That was one of the most innocently hot moments that I've ever seen. I wish Monique was here now. God, do I need relief. I'll bet that when the convention comes next year, Mary will be someone's slave, serving a man or woman, which one I don't know; any takers?"

"Not me," I said. "I tend to agree. Right now she's enamored with the idea of being a lovely slave like this one. Why do you think that she would be serving a man? She appeared to like everything she just touched."

"Because Marcia serves a man, silly. She wants to be just like her, down to the piercings, the jewelry, everything. She sees herself in exactly that role. If Marcia was serving a woman, it would be no question. She is enamored of the female form, the female sex. I could see that too. But if she wants to be Marcia, she'll have to serve a man. With any luck, she'll find a master that allows her to be used by both sexes."

"You may have a seat, slave. You've stood long enough," I said.

Marcia sat down, pulling her dangling jewelry forward between her spread legs. Mary soon returned with our orders and we had a delicious meal, talking and laughing, having a wonderful time. George even offered the services of Dina to provide Brianna a release after he climaxed in her mouth, which Brianna gratefully accepted. Dina disappeared under the table and Brianna's face lit up like a Christmas tree when she felt Dina's tongue servicing her. For the most part, she was able to participate in our conversation, until at one point her hands gripped the table hard and I heard her telling Dina, "Drink my cum slave, lick my clit. That's fabulous, keep doing that." When Dina came out from under the table, her cheeks were smeared with Brianna's juices. George wiped her face with a napkin.

I allowed Marcia to eat her own food, wanting to eat my own while it was still hot. My Prime Rib came with a baked potato and broccoli and Marcia's chicken came with angel hair pasta in white wine garlic sauce. We had more drinks and champagne and really, no one was feeling any pain. The dessert was a strawberry shortcake with a chocolate cream center and a red chocolate kiss on the side.

We lingered at dinner until 3:30 when the band was scheduled to start. I applied more of the cream to Marcia's piercings, Brianna looking on in approval. We meandered down to the club as a group, taking our time, enjoying the company. We took a table near the dance floor and I allowed Marcia to sit again. I'd brought her cushion from the dining room in case they had no soft chairs available. It was a good thing I did, because they didn't. When the band started, they played mostly slow songs, even old jazz classics, and I was a little surprised until I realized that why would anyone want to dance far away from their partner when your partner was a hot naked slave.

I, of course, wanted the first dance with my slave. I didn't hold her too close while we danced, knowing her nipples were probably sore despite the cream just being applied. It was a marvelous dance, never having danced with such a luscious naked slave before, and it was doubly titillating to be dancing amongst so many other naked or near naked people. We sat down after the dance, but first George, then Brianna also wished to dance with my slave and I allowed them to do so. Marcia loved to dance.

After Brianna was finished, Marcia was tabbed for a dance by Master Don and Brianna came back to the table and sitting beside me said, "I wish you were a Gorean, Sam. They buy and sell their slaves all the time. I'd pay top dollar for a hottie like Marcia."

I laughed. "Even if I wanted to, you know, sell my wife, it's just a part-time gig for her. I don't think you could make her give up her full time job, Brianna. But I wouldn't sell her for all the money in the world. It's not that important to me. She is."

"You must have spent close to ten grand on her jewelry, when you include the diamonds," Brianna said. "They were good stones."

"She's worth every penny. She looks good in gold, doesn't she?"

"She'd look good in horse shit. Who're you kidding." We both laughed, George joining in. We talked about this and that, me glancing up on occasion to see how my slave was doing.

By now Marcia was on her third dance partner after Master Don, another Mistress. She was almost as naked as my slave and I loved the sight of both their breasts touching as they danced, Marcia's the higher of the two, but both well formed specimens of feminine pulchritude. When that dance ended, I snagged another dance with her.

"Are you having a good time?" I asked, twirling her around.

"Surprisingly good, Master," she replied. "You don't even have to guess if the men have a salami in their pockets. It's really quite obvious when no one has anything on."

"Do I have a salami in my pocket?" I asked smiling.

"No, Master. I have seen that particular salami before and it's no salami. That's my treat for when I'm a good little slave."

"Have you been a good little slave?" I asked.

"I think so. I won't know for sure until my Master gives me his treat."

"Would you like your treat now, little slave?"

She sank to the floor in front of me, ready at that moment to claim her treat. She undid my snaps and was on my cock in a heartbeat, sucking it deep into her mouth. The only dancing I was doing now was a slow thrusting into her luscious lips. The people danced on around us, most ignoring our lust, but a few followed with their eyes as they moved past. Her talented tongue teased my glans, swirled over the head, teasing the frenum. I thrust deeper and she opened her throat to accept the fullness of my prick. With her hand, she massaged my sack.

"You do that so well, little slave. I won't be able to hold out for very long. Soon you'll have your reward."

In response, she used her other hand to stroke my rod, encouraging the cum to flow from my balls. Five or six more deep thrusts into her throat was all I could manage before unloading my delivery into her waiting mouth. She swallowed all but one tiny drop that escaped from the corner of lips.

I pulled her up and licked the stray droplet, kissing her lips after.

"I love you, little slave."

"I love you, Master," she replied.

The dance finished and another Master tapped my shoulder to dance with my slave. I was walking back to my table when I heard a loud exclamation behind me, and George, Brianna and even Dina jumped to their feet, looking behind me. I turned to look and saw the Master who'd just tapped my shoulder to dance with Marcia, in a hammer lock, Marcia forcing him painfully down to the ground. He was screaming in pain, his hand pushed almost up to his neck behind his back.

I rushed back to her, Master Don and several others also running over. I asked over the loud hubbub buzzing around the room what the problem was.

"This cretin! This pig!" She exclaimed, pointing towards him with a nod, her eyes blazing, "He just tried to use this slave without her Master's permission! He tried to lift me up and set me down on top of that dinky little thing he calls a cock!"

Master Don and three other long-time masters grabbed the sniveling little piece of shit and duck walked him off the dance floor and into a bathroom. I held Marcia in my arms, trying to calm her down when Don returned.

"I'm sorry. Every once in awhile, we get an asshole like that who thinks that any slave is his for the taking. We will disabuse him of this notion and he'll never be welcome back here again," he said. "Are you okay?" he asked Marcia. "He didn't hurt you or anything, did he."

"No, he didn't hurt me. He's lucky I didn't break his arm, the little turd!"

"Hey! He didn't know. You don't mess with The Marcia!" I said in a poor imitation of Adam Sandler, trying to interject a little levity. "You don't mess with The Zohan, but you especially don't mess with The Marcia."

Marcia laughed, and when she laughed, Don laughed, realizing it was crisis averted.