Diary of a Pain Slut Week 04

I lost it at that point, "You two seduce impressionable students who don't know what they are doing and you think that me making a conscious decision to give myself to the woman I love is sick?! We actually DO love each other! And we ARE equal. I am not being forced. This is my choice as much as it is hers. I am choosing to give myself to her and trusting that she will use me in ways that are good for both of us. I can't control the beast within me, but she can. By letting her control me, I am letting her help me control the beast before it devours me."

Then I did something that I was absolutely not supposed to do. I stood up and walked out of group. I knew that doing so could be grounds to send me downstate for in-patient treatment, but I didn't care. It was either leave or physically attack these two hypocritical bimbos, and I chose to leave.

As I got to my car, my phone chirped. It was a text from Dr. B that said, "You may leave group early today." I guess that was his way of telling me he wouldn't send me downstate. Or maybe, he was creating a paper trail so that he could justify not doing so. In either case, thank you Dr. B. :-)

End of entry for Day Twenty-Two

Maddi's Diary, Day Twenty-Three, Saturday

Again, I am writing early on Sunday morning because I got in WAY too late last night to sit down and write anything.

I was nervous all day thinking about what was going to happen. I only vaguely remember Shirley's parents from when I met them once in high school. I kept trying to picture her dad in my mind, but all I could see was Robert DeNiro as Mr. Byrnes in that movie "Meeting the Parents."

I was so distracted that I made mistakes on two orders. That almost never happens. And then I did the unthinkable. I dropped a tray. The manager immediately came over to the table and apologized profusely for the accident. Luckily the tray tipped toward an empty table and no one got splattered with any of the food.

The manager told the family that if they would just wait for the order to be re-done, it would be on the house. "On the house," isn't exactly accurate. It would come out of my pay. But it was my fault, so I can't really complain.

The manager took me aside after that and asked if I was OK. "You've been very distracted all day," she said. "This isn't like you."

"I'm meeting my fiancee's parents tonight," I replied. "We are going out to a club together."

"Oh," she replied. "Congratulations! You will have to bring him in to meet me, but in the meantime, I am sending you home before you dump a pot of hot coffee over some customer's head."

"Thank you," I said. Then I added, "But it's a she, and you have met her... Shirley, the girl who comes in here with Vicki all the time."

"It's still congratulations," she replied with a smile. Then she put her hands on her hips and said, "And you still need to go home before you really hurt somebody."

"Thank you," I repeated and headed home. I got there about 1:00.

I took a long, hot bubble bath as soon as I got home. I was tempted to make it a Mom-style bath, but decided that I should save myself. Besides, none of my vibrators are waterproof. I used my little spinning tweezer thing to make sure that I was totally smooth everywhere. Then I put on a robe and went out to sit in the living room to watch TV.

Nothing interesting was on, and I really wanted to take a nap, but I was afraid that if I went back to my bed I would end up spending all afternoon with my Jack Rabbit. Finally, I decided that I really was tired and went back to my bedroom. I didn't even think about the sexual tension that was building within me. Instead, I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I woke back up around 5:00 when I heard the rumble of Dad's truck being backed up into its parking place by the big shed. I went back into the bathroom and washed my hair in the shower and started getting it ready for the evening. I still hadn't figured out what I was going to say to Dad. Mom wanted me to just surprise him when Shirley showed up, but I wasn't so sure.

It took about 45 minutes to get everything right with my hair, and by that time, Dad had put his stuff away, showered, and was sitting in the living room.

I went back out and sat on the couch. Dad was in his old beat-up recliner. Mom keeps threatening to throw it out, but it is too heavy for her to move by herself. The compromise is that she keeps a cover thrown over it while Dad is on the road. He folds it up and sets it on the floor next to it while he is home. I guess all relationships are built on compromises.

Mom came in about six and announced that they were going to have a late supper after I left on my date. Dad perked up and asked, "You have a date tonight?"

"Yes," I answered.

I was about to say that Shirley would pick me up in about an hour and a half, but Mom cut me off with "Her date will be here at 7:30. We will eat around 8:00, if that's OK with you, honey?"

Dad said "No problem," and went back to reading his paper and ignoring the television. He always has it on when he is in the living room, but he never really watches it. I think he is just so used to the noise in his truck cab, that the quiet of the house takes some getting used to.

Shirley got there at exactly 7:30. When he heard the car in the driveway, Dad looked over at me and said, "You'd better shake your ass. It sounds like your date is here and you aren't ready yet."

"I am ready," I said quietly, and he looked at me with his eyes scrunched up a little bit like he was confused. Then Mom let Shirley in the front door.

"Oh," Dad said. "Double date?"

"No," I answered. "Shirley is my date."

I stood up and dropped my robe to the floor. I was wearing nothing but her white collar. "And my Mistress," I added.

Dad sat there with his face totally blank looking back and forth between Shirley and me. I was waiting for the explosion, but instead he turned to Shirley and said in a very firm and fatherly voice, "Treat her right. Keep her safe. Keep her happy."

Then his voice softened as he added, "She's always been different, but I think you already know that. And I can see it in your faces that you love each other."

He shrugged. "Actually," he continued, "I sort of thought you loved each other back in high school, but I wasn't going to ask back then."

Then his voice hardened again, "But never forget that she is my daughter, and if you break her heart, you will have to answer to me!"

It's a good thing that Shirley had said no makeup, or it would have been running down my face as I went over and hugged my Dad where he sat. He looked up at me and said, "And you never forget that I am your father. I will always be there for you, no matter what."

As we started to leave, he added with a laugh. "At least your Mom won't have to stay up late tonight worrying that you are going to come home without your panties."

Shirley laughed and said, "Good night, Mr. Miller. Good night, Mrs. Miller." She stopped and looked directly at Dad. "And don't worry. I will treat her right. I will keep her safe. And I will try my best to keep her happy."

Tears were pouring off my face as we walked out to the car. I noticed that she had pulled it around so that the passenger side door was right up against the grass and I wouldn't have to walk across the gravel in my bare feet to get in. "I love you," I said softly as I got in the front seat.

"There's a blanket on the floor that you can use to cover yourself if necessary... and if I give you permission. Don't use it unless you have to, and unless I tell you to."

"Yes, Mistress," I answered as we drove out of the driveway.

The club wasn't in town, but rather up in the city. It took about an hour and a half to get there, so it was about 9:00 when we arrived. I wasn't sure where we were except that it was close to downtown. Shirley pulled into what looked like the entrance to a parking deck. She put some kind of card in the gate and it opened for us.

A short while after we descended into the darkness of the parking area, we came to a well lit booth with a guard sitting inside it. The lane was blocked at that point with a heavy barricade-style gate that looked like it could stop a tank. There was also what looked like a heavy concrete barrier sitting across the road.

The guard said nothing, but Shirley leaned her head out of her window slightly and said, "Mistress Shirley Beckworth and one unregistered white collar slave."

The guard pushed a button or something and the heavy steel barrier in front of us slid upward while the concrete buttress folded back into the pavement. They evidently took security pretty seriously here.

As we started to move forward, the guard said pleasantly, "Have a good evening Mistress Shirley" Then nodding toward me he added, "... slave Maddi."

"I thought you said you weren't telling your parents that you were bringing me," I said.

"I didn't," she answered.

"Then how did the guard know my name?" I asked.

Shirley chuckled. "Big brother is watching you," she said as she pointed up at one of the many cameras on the ceiling. "The facial recognition programs knew who we were before the first gate opened for us. The Society has access to the Homeland Security database, so they knew everything about you before we got to the guard's booth."

"Is all that really necessary?" I asked.

"There are some very important and powerful people who are members of the Society. You couldn't really hurt them by exposing their membership, but it's a bother to clean up that kind of mess. And just because it doesn't work, doesn't mean that there aren't people out there who wouldn't try."

"Like who?" I asked.

We had gotten to a parking place, and Shirley shut off the car and turned to face me. "A couple of years ago," she began, "a local reporter got the idea of doing a big expose' on the club. She really didn't know much about it, but knew it was kinky and that rich and powerful people were involved. She decided to pose as a slave in order to get in."

Shirley reached up and touched my neck. "She even had a white collar made to make it look real. Then she got some female private detective to pose as a Mistress. The PI had connections in Seattle and somehow got false membership papers from there. She even got her name and picture in the club member database."

She laughed, "But they didn't count on facial recognition. The guards let them go in, but security met them at the door. They were told that since they wanted to find out what goes on in here, they would. They were both stripped... well the PI was stripped, the reporter was already naked. Then they were taken down to the dining room and put up on stage strapped to X-shaped frames that held them securely in place on top of two Sybian machines with double penetration attachments.

"All of the hidden surveillance cameras that the PI had smuggled in were trained on them and broadcasting or recording everything while they sat on those machines all night being forced into one orgasm after another. In addition the club cameras were recording everything. Around 1:00 am, the local Grand Master came up on stage and put stainless steel collars on both of them. Then they were dropped off naked in front of the newspaper offices.

"Each of them was given a little memory card that would unlock the collar if it were programmed with the right key code. They told the PI that they would give her that code when she turned over all her files and told them exactly how she had managed to hack into the Seattle club. They told the reporter that they would give her the code when she gave them her files."

"What happened then?"

"The PI turned over the files and gave the name of the hacker to the security people. It turns out he had bragged to a friend of his that he could get into the most secure server in Seattle, which just happens to be the one at the Society club there. The PI out there found out about it and told him to prove it by setting up a fictitious member- the PI from here. The hacker did, but he also contacted security and told them where the weakness was. It had already been fixed by the time the reporter tried to sneak in here. The hacker works for the Society now."

"And what happened to the reporter?"

"People who play with fire, sometimes get burned," Shirley said. "You might meet her tonight. She still wears the stainless steel collar except now it has a Mistresses name engraved on it. She wanted to find out something about the club, but instead found out something about herself."

She opened her car door, "But enough history! It's time to meet the parents."

As they started to walk toward the entrance, Shirley said to me, "No one will say anything tonight because you are an untrained slave, but proper etiquette is that you walk slightly behind me and to the right."

I tried to walk where she said I should, but kept finding myself alongside her.

"That's OK," she said. "Just don't ever get in front of me. Then someone will say something regardless of whether or not this is your first night." She paused and added, "And watch for sharp stuff on the floor out here in the parking area. They keep it pretty well cleaned up, but I don't want anything to mess up you meeting Mom and Dad."

We walked down to the end of the parking area where there was a well lit door which said "Entrance." Just inside the door was a standard hostess / maitre-de welcome desk. A very beautiful woman in a long black dress looked up at us as we entered and said, "Ah, Mistress Shirley, your parents are already seated and waiting for you."

It felt kind of weird. She didn't ignore me. It was more like I wasn't there. I found myself looking at the mirrored wall alongside the welcome desk to see if I was actually visible. What I saw was two beautiful women, one older in a long black dress, and one younger and more beautiful in a shorter, light blue evening dress... and a naked slave. I had to look twice to find me.

It was sort of like I didn't exist, but somehow, my nakedness and almost invisibility, made Shirley that much more visible and beautiful and I was very pleased. It was OK if I couldn't be seen if it made her more beautiful in my eyes and the eyes of the world.

The hostess led us over to the far side of the eating area near the stage. The dining room was arranged like you would expect at a night club. There was a small dance floor area in middle on one side and in the wall behind the dance floor was a slightly raised stage about 20 feet wide. The stage protruded out into the room about ten feet in a large half circle that touched the walls at the edge of the curtained opening.

As we walked through the crowd, I tried to stay two steps behind Shirley like I was supposed to, but it was impossible to be slightly to her right. I had to follow directly behind her. I noticed that one or more people at many of the tables was naked, like me. Most had black leather collars, but a few had jeweled collars or shiny stainless steel bands around their necks. One or two slaves were kneeling on the floor next to their Masters or Mistresses. Seeing them reminded me that I, too was naked, but my nakedness felt more and more natural.

A handsome man about my Dad's age stood up at one of the tables right next to the edge of the stage and waved at us. Shirley waved back and then we were at the table. "Mom, Dad," Shirley began, "this is Maddi. She is wearing my white collar."

"Congratulations!" boomed Mr. Beckworth as he hugged his daughter.

"Yes, congratulations," said Mrs. Beckworth quietly. "Have you set a date for a collaring ceremony or is it too soon to talk about that?"

I started to say something about us needing to work through some things first, but as I turned to Shirley's Mom, no words came out. She was naked! There was a soft black leather collar around her neck with an emblem similar to what I had except it had jewels around it and the word Master on one side and David on the other. Her nipples were pierced and two small silver weights hung from each. The weights were small silver figures of a woman hanging in bondage with her hands above her head. The silver rope from which the figures hung was tied to the ring in each of Mrs. Beckworth's nipples.

"Maddi is totally untrained," Shirley said brightly. "She doesn't know for sure what this would mean for us. So I don't think it would be fair to ask for a total commitment before she is trained and knows what would be expected of her."

I was still sputtering softly and trying to speak. "You're... you're..."

"Yes?" Mrs. Beckworth said, looking up at me.

"You're a slave?" I finally got out.

"Yes, I am," she answered with a smile.

"But you are both attorneys in one of those big offices downtown?" I continued to sputter as I looked back and forth from Shirley's Dad to her Mother.

"I am that also," she continued. "And so is Master David. But being a Master or, in my case, a submissive, isn't my total being. I am many things. I am not always submissive and I'm not submissive to everybody." She smiled brightly. "Ask any prosecuting attorney whose ass I've kicked in court about that."

She motioned for me to sit down and continued. "A Master-slave relationship is very complex, as are all true, loving relationships. Some couples," she said, pointing toward a nearby table, "are Master-Mistress and they have slaves together." She then pointed to the naked man and woman kneeling at the feet of the Master-Mistress couple. "Those two slaves are also a couple." She laughed slightly, "As a matter of fact, they are married with three children."

"Some couples are Mistress-slave," she continued. "There are rules to the relationship which must be abided by if one is to remain a member of the Society, but there are no rules as to what composes that relationship. If you decide that this relationship is right for you and Shirley, and you accept her collar, you will be welcomed here as a registered slave, with all of the rights and privileges which that gives you."

I probably looked and sounded as confused as I was. I asked, "Rights and privileges? For a slave?"

Now it was Shirley's Dad who spoke. "The relationships in the Society are Masters and submissive slaves, not captive slaves. A slave gives herself, or himself, to his or her Master. They are not enslaved. And if, at any time, the relationship sours and the Master no longer properly cares for his slave, she can appeal to the council."

He cleared his throat. "Sometimes that means the council mandates that the couple seek counseling. Sometimes the council reminds the Master of the proper way to treat a slave. And sometimes, the council steps in to free and protect the slave. In my time here at the club we have had to remove one or two members who would not follow the advice of the council, but most come around when they are shown the error of their ways."

As he was finishing speaking, a waitress appeared at the table. It was hard to tell if she was a slave, but she was definitely not a Mistress. She was dressed in a frilly French maid's outfit that barely covered her ass. She had on a fishnet body stocking of some sort and a tiny black thong that was totally visible beneath the little black dress. The top had half cups that did not cover her breasts, but rather held them out for display. She walked with funny steps almost as if her ankles were bound together, but I could see nothing that was hobbling her.

If you ignored how she was dressed, she acted no differently than I did when I take an order at the restaurant. She even started with the one whom she thought would probably be paying the bill, namely Mr. Beckworth. Shirley ordered next and then the waitress looked over at me. I was unsure what to do. Finally I whispered to Shirley, "Do I order on my own, or do you do that for me?"