Mick Britton: Training missy Ch. 02

Chapter 10: A trip to Kennedy's.

Enjoy

xantu

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Every window in the huge house at the end of the drive was brightly lit and missy could see people moving inside. A wave of fear and embarrassment shook her. Mick had said they were visiting his mentor and his slave. She had been sort of looking forward to meeting another woman who was a slave. Mick had chosen an outfit that left her almost completely exposed but she had told herself that she could do this. It was only going to be a couple of people. Now looking at the house it was obvious that there seemed to be some kind of a party going on there.

Missy looked up at Mick and took a deep breath, reached for his hand and carefully stepped out of her car. She could hear the heavy bass line of loud music coming from the house and she looked nervously at the dozen or so cars parked along the driveway and then down at the dress that barely covered her breasts and was so short that her naked ass and cunt showed at the slightest movement.

Mick looked at the little black clutch purse she held gripped in her hands. "What's in there?"

Missy held out the purse for his inspection, "Just my driver's license, comb, lipstick, and my car keys, Mick Sir."

Mick took the purse from her hands and opened it up. He took her car keys out and put them into his pocket. Then he took the lipstick and spoke softly, "Hold still." Missy stood miserably as he messily smeared it over her mouth and then began to write something across her chest. Mick chuckled, "There you go. Don't worry about your hair. I doubt you will have many people looking at your hair."

He put her purse on the seat of her car and locked the doors. "One last thing for your outfit, my little student." From his pocket he pulled out the dog collar and leash she had purchased and using the little padlock he fastened the collar around her neck. "Remember your lessons. If you do not know what to do, look to me."

"Yes, Mick Sir." Missy peered down at her chest and bit her lip on the inside, not knowing if she was going to laugh or cry. He had written, "Mick's Cunt," on her chest.

Mick turned and strode off toward the big house. A wave of terror shook her and first she could not take a step. The leash tightened and then jerked her forward. Missy stumbled and then hurried to keep from being jerked off her feet. She was unused to walking in such tall heels and the ground was soft making it hard to keep her balance. Keeping from falling was all she could focus on as she careened and staggered behind Mick. His only response was to tug impatiently on the leash and bark at her to stop fucking around.

When she finally reached the paved walkway leading to the front door, missy had a little better success keeping her balance. The front door stood open and a nude woman knelt by the entrance. Missy instinctively hung back a couple feet behind Mick as they went up the stairs. Mick spoke in a manner that made it obvious he knew this woman, "I see you are the official greeter tonight, kitten."

The woman kept her eyes locked on the floor and she spoke in a meek voice, "This slave respectfully greets her Master's guest. Welcome to our house. My Master has a message for you, Sir. He says he is in the ballroom and wishes to speak to you once you arrive." Missy thought she had a curious lisp.

Missy looked curiously at the woman kneeling by the door. She was quite young, in her early twenties and quite plump. Her hair was pulled back into a tight high pony tail and she was wearing a hair band with cat's ears attached. She had makeup on her face that made her eyes look slanted and whiskers were painted on her face. Gold rings pierced both her nipples and missy noticed that an elaborate network of fine gold chains seemed to be wrapped around the girl's body, reaching from around her neck and arms to attach to the rings in her nipples and then spiraling down around her body and disappearing between her legs.

Mick reached down and stroked her head, "Good kitten, I will find your Master and tell him that his pet delivered her message." The chubby girl made a happy meow and then purred and rubbed her head against Mick's leg. There was a soft jingling sound and missy noticed that there were numerous little bells attached to the chains. Then she arched her back and licked her hand like a paw. Missy was shocked to see she did not have any teeth in front, just two exaggerated canines framing a pink tongue pierced with a gold stud. Missy was not surprised to see a long cat's tail somehow attached to the girl's rear end.

The only clue that they were to walk inside was the impatient tug at the leash. Missy realized she was going to have to stop looking around so much and pay attention to Mick. Her high heels clicked on the hardwood floors and she had only a fleeting glimpse of a brightly lit entryway with a big chandelier before he turned abruptly and began to move quickly down a wide staircase. As they moved down the music got louder and more oppressive. Missy wondered how anyone could think with that much noise.

Again Mick had her moving so quickly that she had little opportunity to look at her surroundings. It was everything she could do to concentrate on keeping her balance and try to keep her spandex dress from riding up as she walked. Mick stopped so abruptly that she almost ran into the back of him and she looked out into the room. A large, dimly lit dance floor dominated the huge room. At least a dozen people were gyrating on a big dance floor and another dozen or so were standing around in groups or sitting on the dark couches and chairs on the edges of the room.

Mick scanned the room and then took off again, headed for a group that was seated on the far side. Dragging missy directly across the middle of the dance floor he threaded his way through the dancers. She could not help but notice that she seemed to be the only woman in the whole room wearing clothing, but Mick was moving too quickly for her to look too closely at anyone for very long.

As they approached the group an older man in a long white caftan stood and hollered something that was drowned out by the music and then took Mick's hand and pulled him into a vigorous hug and pounded him on the back. Missy hung back and, remembering Mick's caution to not stare at another Master, kept her eyes averted, looking at this man out of the corner of her eye. He was older, maybe almost sixty with a shiny bald head and a large belly.

Mick returned the embrace and hollered something back. The older man turned to look at missy and she froze and looked fearfully at the floor, her shoulders slowly coming up around her ears. She flinched when his hand touched her face, tracing the curve of her cheek and then his thumb tracing across her lower lip. He took hold of her lower lip and lifted her face up to look at his. His eyes were tired and a little blood shot, and seemed to look right through her, his lips moved and she could tell he was saying something but the music was too loud. He frowned and spoke again, temper showing on his face. He carefully wiped the lipstick off his fingers by rubbing it off onto her cheek and then turned on his heel and walked away. Mick gave a quick tug on her leash and she followed him from the room. Missy noticed a blond woman rise up quickly from her knees from her place by a couch and hurry after them.

The older man in the white caftan pushed open a pair of heavy doors and as they swung shut the sound was instantly muffled to a distant thrum of a bass beat. The man's voice was harsh and gravelly. "Holy mother of gods, that music is fucking loud. A man can't even hear himself think, much less have a civilized conversation." The woman that had followed them silently sank to her knees near the door and became motionless, her eyes on the floor.

They seemed to be in a dimly lit entryway, a dark hallway extended away into the darkness. Missy could see a series of heavy wooden doors on either side. Missy heard a thud and a soft squall of pain. A woman's voice made some taunting comment and then laughed derisively. The man laughed, "Sounds like Trinidad is already busy. How are you, my boy?"

"Great, I am doing great." Mick's voice was amused. At the sound of his voice missy remembered to focus and look to him. Belatedly remembering that her Master had said for her to kneel at his feet if she had not been told to kneel elsewhere, she awkwardly lowered herself to her knees, trying somehow to get down without exposing her naked ass.

The old man turned to her again and stepped back, looking down at her. Again missy held herself still and kept her eyes focused on Mick's shoes. "Good to hear, my boy. Good to hear. So this is your missy. She is everything you said she was. Have you trained her display positions yet?"

"No, not yet."

The older man snapped his fingers and the nude woman jumped to her feet and murmured, "Yes, my Master?"

"Stand before this untrained slave. Assume display position one."

"Yes, my Master."

The man grabbed missy's hair and tipped her head to look up at the nude woman before her. She was so close that missy's eyes were at the same level as her cunt and missy found herself once again distracted by a sparking gold ring piercing through the hood over the clitoris with a red ruby set on it. Unconsciously missy licked her lips and lifted her eyes higher watching as the nude woman came to attention.

The woman stood tall, her hands clasped behind her neck, her elbows pulled back, and her feet about shoulder width apart. Her neck was straight, but she kept her eyes downcast, staring directly into missy's eyes and a soft smile curved her lips. Missy could see that she was probably in her mid forties but she was in excellent shape and her large breasts were firm enough that missy suspected she had had a breast lift done.

The old man released missy's head with a jerk, "Now, you do that." Instantly the nude woman gave a small curtsy and backed to her place by the wall and knelt in one fluid movement.

Missy clamored to her feet and clasped her hands behind her neck, spacing her legs apart like the woman in front of her. His scathing tone scorched through her, "You did not say that she was stupid, Mick. Is she really this clueless?"

Mick laughed, "Stupid? No, she is not stupid, but she is untrained and I think a little shy." His voice sharpened, "missy, this is a 'display' position. A slave stands like this to show off her body to her Master and whoever her Master tells her to display her body to. It ought to be pretty obvious to you that wearing a dress at this time might be a bit of a barrier to your Master's eyes."

Missy swallowed and nodded. Her hands shook as she reached up and untied the laces holding the dress barely closed and then slipped it down over her hips. It fell in a puddle around her feet and she put her hands behind her neck again. Her face felt like it was on fire.

The old man slowly walked around her. "Tabula Rasa, my boy, it has been too long since I have seen such fresh flesh. I envy you. What are your thoughts?"

"For now, just basic training, she is still struggling with the basics. She finds holding her tongue a challenge. Tonight I want her to observe."

Again there was a cracking thud and a strangled scream. The old man tipped his head and laughed, "If she is here to observe, let's look around." Again missy felt a jerk on her collar and she realized she had not watched Mick closely enough and he had walked away without her noticing. It seemed like her head was filled with confusion. Missy staggered to catch up, silently cursing the high heels that had her so off balance. It was only after she had taken three steps that she realized she had left the dress laying on the floor.

She forced herself to keep walking, hurrying to catch up with Mick. She told herself that it did not matter that she was nude. All the women here were nude. Though, she hated the idea of walking away and leaving the dress lying on the floor. Mick had given it to her and she would need it to get home.

The old man in the caftan stopped at a door and pushed it open, "Trinidad, may we disturb you? I have someone who I would like to observe."

The voice was a sharp snarl, "Kennedy, I usually charge for that privilege."

The man, that missy now named Kennedy in her head, laughed, "The time you start charging me to look around my own house, is the time you start paying full membership fees and rent to use my rooms."

The laughter was harsh and bitter, "Then be my guest, just stay out of the way."

At first the room seemed dark, missy nervously peering at the dark figures, trying to see what was happening. A peremptory tug on her collar forced her back down onto her knees. She felt Mick's knees beside her and leaning back realized he had sat down on a couch against the wall. His fingers slipped into the back of her collar and turned her to face the darkness, and remained there, slowly tightening and loosening the collar, reminding her it was there. Again she peered at the dark figures and then blinked as a spotlight lit up the scene.

First her eyes were drawn to the naked man tied in the center. He had his back to them, but was bent sharply at the waist. His hands were bound together behind his back and lifted high by a chain coming down from the ceiling, forcing him into an agonizing bow. His legs were forced wide by additional chains, and missy could see his muscles trembling with effort to raise himself, to ease the stress on his arms and shoulders. While his head was clearly visible hanging down between his legs, missy could not see his face because his head was in a black fabric bag. All the bare skin she could see was striped and marked with blows.

A figure moved in the darkness, outside the circle of the spotlight, and a deep, throaty, woman's voice spoke up, "As you can see my friend and I have already started our fun. He was impatient." The voice paused and then chuckled, "And so was I."

The figure of a tall, razor thin woman stepped into the light. At first missy thought she was wearing some kind of skin tight subtly patterned cat suit, but then she realized that the woman was tattooed. From neck to the top of the thigh high boots she had on there was not an inch of her body that was not covered in ink. She turned to face the small group and bowed and missy could see she was a light skinned, African American woman with long dreadlocks pulled up into a crest running along the top of her head.

Missy could see dozens of glints of metal on the woman's body and realized she must be extensively pierced as well. If she was wearing anything other than her boots, it blended so well with the tattoos on her body that missy could not tell. She had a long slender rod in her hand, and she gave a vigorous swing through the air. Missy could hear it whistle through the air and then noticed that the man's buttocks flinched and then shuddered at the sound.

Grasping both ends of the rod, Trinidad flexed it a few times and looked down at the quivering ass in front of her. She reached out with the rod and ran it up the inside of one of the taut and trembling thighs and then gave a peremptory tap on his balls. A deep grunt of pain echoed through the room and for just an instant his knees buckled and then he forced himself up on his toes. A garbled, incomprehensible protest rose up and missy realized that the man had to be wearing a gag under the bag over his head.

Trinidad laughed and spoke sharply, "What's that? You liked that? You want more?" She prodded clinically at his rapidly shrinking erection. "Perhaps not, you certainly seem to be losing some of your enthusiasm. I know what you crave, my friend. I know what you need." She raised the rod and brought it down across the man's buttocks. A strangled scream rose up.

Missy cringed and tried to look away as the tall, thin, tattooed woman began to strike viciously again and again, the man began to struggle and scream. Mick's fingers were tightened on her collar and missy began to feel dizzy as she felt her breathing constricted. He leaned over and hissed into her ear, "Pay attention," and gave her collar a jerk. Missy forced her eyes back to the scene, her shoulders coming up around her ears, soft shivers of revulsion starting to shake through her. But she also noticed that his penis was getting hard and rising up against his belly.

It seemed like his cries were getting quieter and more urgent sounding. Again missy just did now want to watch anymore and a little wave of rebellion coursed through her and she thought briefly of just closing her eyes, but then just let her eyes lose their focus. As the images before her blurred and then began to swim, she forced her body to relax and wait. She wondered if Mick really got off on watching men with hard-ons getting beaten by tattooed women, and felt a little shocked at the critical tone of her internal dialog.

The sounds coming from the man made it clear that he was becoming increasingly aroused and when he made a deep growling groan and the tattooed woman laughed derisively, missy found herself unconsciously focusing her eyes. The cloudy scene instantly sharpened and missy could see that the man was hanging with almost all his weight from his arms, his body shining with sweat. The old man in the caftan began to clap energetically and Mick joined more sedately. Missy felt his knee nudge her sharply and she politely brought her palms together.

Somewhere, someone turned the lights on for the whole room and the tattooed woman looked at the group watching her. A feral smile lit up her face, "Micky, little Micky, I did not know you were watching too. I would have been so much more inspired." Her eyes looked down at the naked form of missy at Mick's feet. "Oh my, what do we have here?" She began to stalk sinuously toward the couches, her eyes locked on missy.

Missy realized she was staring at the tattooed woman like a bird caught in a snake's gaze and flashed her eyes down to the floor, staring at her knees in terror. Soon the toes and tall heels of the woman's boots were there, spread in a wide stance. Missy could feel Mick's fingers still hooked possessively in her collar. Slowly the woman lowered herself, crouching and her knees bent, spreading them wide. Missy realized she was wearing some kind of bikini panty but it was artfully multicolored to blend with the decorations on her body. Missy's eyes traced an almost lifelike rendering of some kind of scaled snake like thing with wings that was either crawling into or out of those panties. She could not tell, she could not see the head because the scaled body wound around out of sight behind the hip of the woman crouching before her.

Again the voice was mocking, "Micky has brought a date?" Missy felt a sharp tipped fingernail under her chin, lifting her face up to look up. Missy shivered as the large, black eyes scanned her face, and then casually traced down her chest. The sharp nail slowly traced the smeared lipstick letters on missy's chest, "What a sweet sentiment, Micky. So you claim this one as yours. You have always had a thing for vintage models." Again the finger traced the letters, pushing harder, almost scratching missy's skin. "If you want I could put this on permanently. A reminder of your first date here at Kennedy's. I would not charge you too much. You could perhaps work out an exchange, a barter of services. I would like to see you up on that stage. I promise I would make the experience memorable. I would be so inspired."

Mick's laugh was mirthless, "Trinidad, I have said 'no' once, twice, a thousand times 'no'. I am not going to become your plaything. I am not interested in that kind of scene."

The disappointment was apparent in her voice, "But Micky, you know how much more I like to teach a man exactly what kind of scene he likes. I am sure, given time and the right incentives, you would learn to love my kind of scenes. There is nothing quite as sweet as the protests of a man who finds himself loving what he swore he would never do."