I'm Dating Our Mailgirl Ch. 16

"You don't need me to pick you up, or you don't want to leave from the office?"

"No, I'm going to need my car for running around tomorrow. I'll just leave it overnight. I hope you don't mind."

"No, of course not. I look forward to seeing you this evening." We kissed again and I departed.

GETTING READY FOR THE EVENING

At about 5:00, after having put in a reasonably productive work day considering everything going on in my life and everything on my mind, I walked, clothed, back to the warehouse to get my car. I needed a shower and I took my outfit for the evening into the warehouse. LOCKED!!! I should have realized. I never had though about what security the girls had until this jumped up and slapped me in the face. Of course, there was no one inside at 5:00 PM. I had four other possibilities. In order of desirability, I could (1) drive to my apartment and shower, (2) go back to the Seahawk building and shower in Joyce's office, (3) shower in the fishbowl. There would be no one there, no mailgirls, no audience. I decided on number 4, to go to Joyce's house, uh, anus' house and shower there. Actually bathe there in her whirlpool. This would expose me to criticism by Joyce for lack of planning. But maybe she would have already completed the metamorphosis into anus so that she didn't dare criticize me and she could derive pleasure from bathing me.

I didn't bother knocking, instead I just opened the door. It was unlocked. I guess I had finally earned the privilege of not being locked out of my own second home. I didn't bother announcing my presence but I'm sure anus heard me drive up and come in. She appeared at the top of the staircase wearing a bra and panties. I addressed her, "I trust those are in the process of coming off and not going on." I tried to make my tone one of mild petulance rather than genuine disapproval. She needed to know I was not pleased that she wasn't ready, but that was more of an act. Frankly, I was looking forward to our bathing together.

She immediately shed the bra and panties. "May your servant get my outfit for the evening?"

"Don't be in such a hurry. I've been perspiring all day. I need a bath. I need you to bathe me."

"That would be a privilege. May I draw your bath?"

"OUR bath. You will need to join me to get me completely refreshed." I ascended the stairs. I carried all of my wardrobes for the next three days. Four, if you wanted to count the 26th since I wasn't sure what my sleeping arrangement for Christmas night would be at this point. I hung my outfits in our closet and started to strip. She came back into the bedroom from drawing the bath. "Come, be a good servant and disrobe me." She did, pausing to shower my body with kisses as each area was revealed. When I was naked, we moved to the bathroom and got into the whirlpool tub. I took her in my arms. "I've been craving holding you in my arms like this tenderly. Do you realize the torture I've had to endure being in the same house with you while we were both naked and not being able to hold you tenderly because you were restrained?"

"But mistress has had the pleasure of having nine in bed with her." My mind raced back to how I had left nine this morning with each of us departing in anger, not even exchanging kisses. We bathed each other, anus obsequiously bathing me first but my quickly reciprocating each gesture. "Clean my asshole. I want you to spend some time in there later." She did so and I nearly orgasmed as her finger meticulously cleaned out the cavern. I completed the orgasm as she performed a final inspection with her tongue. "Do you have any idea of the pleasure I derive from that?"

"Your humble servant believes I will soon learn again as I am certain you will want to repeat the process later."

I cleansed her rectum. I don't know why, but as I did so I kept up the conversation, "Do you know that nine has never once eater my asshole?" I don't know why I was sharing this intimate detail with my "other" lover. I was aware I was giving her a piece of ammunition she could arm herself with if she even got into a competition with nine for my affection.

"She is too ignorant of the sweet fruits she is depriving from herself." She positioned herself so that she was lying prone with her head resting on the edge of the tub barely remaining above water. I positioned myself on top of her so she could reach my asshole and have a second helping. I had to lower my head in the water in order to enjoy the fruits of her anus. It was a weird sensation as I was bobbing for her asshole. I didn't even mind the mouthsful of soap water I had to navigate like a drowning sailor in order to reach my goal. When sated, flourishing the accomplishment of the act with yet another cry of orgasmic pleasure, we disengaged. I took the shower head to rinse but gave it to anus to perform this task that rightly belonged to a servant.

She toweled me dry first, but I next returned the favor. We went to the bedroom where we dressed for the evening. Neither one of us put on a bra or panties, anus because she wanted to be as exposed as possible under the gossamer cloth of her outfit, me because I wanted the view of my bare butt through the high slit in my cocktail dress to let everyone know I was wearing no panties. We kissed when she had finished dressing which told her how very much I enjoyed her exposing herself in this manner before her friends.

I was about to lead her out of the bedroom when she stopped me, "Wait, I need one more accessory." She went into the room of pain and pleasure and came back with a butt plug. It featured a crimson rhinestone at least one inch in diameter. I guess the color was to match the color of my Christmas dress. She handed the plug to me, obviously waiting for me to insert it. She handed me a tube of lubricant, but I made an obvious show of not applying it to make the insertion as painful as possible. She smiled indicating her compliance.

We descended the staircase and as we got to the door she grabbed her collar and leash from the table but did not ask me to put them on her but instead put them into her clutch. She smiled and said, "We don't need to be too flamboyant with our entrance but these may come in handy later in the evening."

DRIVING TO THE PARTY

Jaime opened the door to her car for us. We entered and drove off. We spent the first 10 minute in silence. I was still feeling uncomfortable having her being so fawning toward me, begging my permission to talk, never talking unless talked to. I was glad when she initiated a conversation. "There will be many interesting people here tonight. I want you to use this as an excellent networking opportunity."

"Who will I be networking with? And to what end?"

"You're very cleaver. I'm sure you will figure it out." I'm still trying to figure out this BDSM thing. It seems that when we left the house, we entered into a sort of transition zone where she was neither completely Joyce nor anus. We chatted some more, but certainly not incessantly. I enjoyed this little island of normalcy in the sea of BDSM I was now thrust into. But even as I thought that, I wondered, now what is normal. Is this my new normal?

We entered into a gated community and approached a large palatial home. We got out of the car and walked to the door. I was reminded once more of anus' bare feet and how it provided a hint of servitude that was about to be revealed to all the guests.

THE GRAND ENTRANCE

We were greeted at the door by a beautiful, immaculately dressed woman, probably in her late 30's. She was impeccably coiffed with short choppy layered highlighted beige blond hair. She looked like she had just stepped out of a photo shoot for a women's fashion magazine. She extended her hand to me, "I'm Ashley Milner. You must be Monica. I'm delighted to meet you; we've heard so much about you."

That begged the question, what had she heard? She didn't say a word to Joyce, uh, anus. I could tell she had glanced at her and sized up her outfit. A woman of her perceptions had surely correctly assessed that I was accompanied by a sub. Clearly I was the Dom. Despite her seemingly assenting to our appearance, I felt compelled to explain, "I hope our appearance isn't inappropriate."

She gave a laugh, "I would have expected no less from Joyce and anyone that she would have been romantically involved with. Come, let me introduce you to some of my guests." Again, it was quite apparent, the Ashley would perform the social niceties, not anus. anus was once more relegated to a mere appendage to my persona, someone not even to be acknowledged. As Ashley took my hand to lead me, anus obediently followed right behind, quietly.

"Cyril, Agnes, I'd like you to meet Monica. Monica is the woman who has single handedly brought her lover back to the land of the living." She did not refer to anus by name.

Cyril, a distinguished looking elderly gentleman who looked like he should be in a top-of-the-line men's clothing commercial spoke up, "Oh, Monica, we saw you at the performance of La Boheme. You're appearance was stunning. I'm sorry we didn't have a chance to meet that night, but you were the center of the social circle. We," again he assiduously did not mention Joyce's name but gave a condescending glance in her direction to clarify who he meant by "we". "We serve on the board of the Opera together. Will you be attending our production of Der Rosenkavalier in January?"

"anus and I have discussed it," anus just slipped out, I didn't deliberately say that. But it was now out there in the open.

"anus?" he questioned.

I knew I now had to provide an explanation. "anus and I have now transitioned our relationship to one of Dominant and submissive. As the sub, I have given her the name 'anus'." I realized I could have, perhaps should have stopped there, but I continued on. "Not only because it is the part of the human body responsible for performing the most vile of functions, but because of her propensity to have various objects stuffed into her rectum."

"Ha, ha! How delightful. Yes, I couldn't help but notice the bejeweled butt plug prominently displayed in her, uh, anus. Does the choice of name have anything to do with the fact that she really can be a genuine asshole?"

"That too." I smiled, making sure my smile was pointed in anus' direction.

"I can't wait to tell everyone at our next Opera Guild board meeting. Monica, you would be such a delightful addition to our board. Frankly, because of your youth and lack of experience, I don't think I can get you onto the board, but we need to get you on a fast track to membership by getting you involved in one of our committees? How does the programming committee sound?"

"I'm flattered, and that should very intriguing. But I'm afraid my lack of knowledge of music in general and opera in particular would disqualify me."

"I think it would be unseemly if we had you serving on our personnel committee since Joy. . . uh, anus, serves as the chair. How about our social committee? Now that I think about it, I believe that would be a perfect fit. We are making plans for our Opening Night Gala next September. I can see you turning it into a masquerade ball!" anus did not react in any way. I took her silence as an indication of her assent, to the extent she was allowed to have a voice in the matter. This networking thing could be a lot of fun.

Without seeking my or anus' permission, Cyril then called for the attention of everyone in the room. "May I have your attention. I believe everyone knows anus." He gestured toward anus, "Yes, that is how she is to be know from now on. She has submitted herself as the sub of her new Dom, this delightfully charming woman," he gestured toward me, "Monica Ross."

So there it was, completely unplanned and spontaneously Cyril had stolen our thunder and announced to the whole world, or at least the cream of our city's society, our new social status. anus was stoic. There was no embarrassment, which I was a little disappointed with, no triumph, no anger at me nor of Cyril and the whole situation. There was a sprinkling of polite applause. People wondered over to us to congratulate and welcome us. I say wandered over to "us". anus was completely ignored. All of the adulation was heaped onto me.

I had not eaten anything yet. There was an elaborate buffet of appetizers, all of which looked delicious. I didn't so much as ask anus if she wanted to eat as I expected her to follow me obediently to the buffet table. I grabbed a plate for myself. I did not hand one to anus, nor did she grab a plate for herself. I selected a variety of hors d'oeuves. I found a love seat and sat down. anus did not join me on the small but sufficient space for her to be seated. Instead she sat down on the floor at my feet. Occasionally, I took a bite of food in my fingers and fed it to anus. I didn't hand it to her, but rather placed it in her mouth as if I were feeding a dog.

While we were eating, people constantly came up to us. The conversations were all the same. They introduced themselves to me, fawned over my presence, perhaps explained how they knew anus, but otherwise they did not acknowledge her. They gushed about how glad they were to meet me. Many expressed how they were hoping to see more of me. There were occasional references to how they had seen me at the opera or the ballet, but I really don't recall ever having met most of them before.

One couple came over to us. The man commented about how I appeared to be having difficulty getting anything to eat while at the same time holding forth with all my new friends. "Perhaps I can take anus and feed her to allow you to continue to mingle."

I smiled my assent and thanked him for his kindness. His companion, his wife I assumed, then took a leash from her purse and gave it to him and he attached it to anus' collar. He perfunctorily sought my permission to leash her. I was anxious to see this public humiliation. Not that anus had any say in the matter, but she obediently lowered her head after raising it to allow the leash to be attached. I couldn't help musing, who comes to an elegant party with a dog's leash in her purse? But none the less I was glad she was so well prepared and I didn't have to produce the leash I still had in my clutch. I realized the irony that the answer to my rhetorical question as to who come to an elegant party with a dog's leash in her purse was in fact, "me!"

SKYLER HOFFMAN

They led anus away and I noticed a woman who had kept to herself the entire evening. She stood out as a genuinely unattractive woman in this sea of beautiful people. She appeared emaciated with hair barely tended to. Her clothes were the outfit of someone who genuinely saw no need to make any kind of a fashion statement other than "I'm going to wear this and I don't give a shit what you think."

I went up to her and asked if I could join her. Her dour countenance showed no expression other than grudging assent to my request. I introduced myself and she grudgingly responded, "Skyler Hoffman". She did extend her hand and gave me a cold hand shake. Perhaps it was rude of me, but I did comment about how I noticed she wasn't mingling with the crowd.

"I'm not a mingler."

I was curious and I persisted, "I'm sorry, but you appear to be a bit out of place in this gathering of what Joyce, uh, anus described to me as the present day equivalent of the salon of 18th century Europe."

A barely imperceptible smile crossed her face. "I'm the token curmudgeon that the crowd always invites."

"But you must have some quality that keeps you as a part of the circle."

"I'm the editor of City Magazine. If they don't try to curry favor with me, I can skewer them. But they insult me by assuming that I can be bought. It's just that none of them have given me any indication that a skewering of any of them would increase my journalistic standing with my readership."

I told her, "I've just discovered your magazine. I am becoming friends with one of your writers, Terri Reid."

"She does excellent work for us. I believe you also know Ted Winthrop. He does excellent photographic layouts for us. Since you are familiar with the work of one of our writers and photographers, let me run an idea I'm entertaining by you. Are you familiar with our 'Power Couples in our City' series?"

I indicated I was. "I understand that two years ago you featured the CEO of Seahawk Industries, David Brent and his mistress Celeste Bouquet in the series. I thought it was rather innovative to feature such a business leader and his mistress."

"Our magazine has always been about honesty. That is who he is. That is who she is. That is who they were."

"Were? That is who they were. I understand they are no longer together."

"I understand he is searching for a suitable replacement for Ms. Bouquet. But anyway, I am thinking about featuring you and, uh, Joyce in another installment of that series."

"I never have though of myself as a 'power' person."

She explained, "While we prefer having two people of roughly equal standing, it is a fact that often one of the members of the couple achieve their stature predominantly by virtue of their relationship with the more powerful person. While that may have described you when I first became aware of you and Joyce, the night at the Opera, you seem to be advancing your social standing and your position as a mover and shaker on your own."

That conversation starter begged to be pursued, but I wanted to go in another direction. "I want Terri to write the piece. And I want Ted to provide the photographic layout."

"Somewhat presumptive of you, young lady. I haven't even said that I'm convinced of the marketability of any such story. Besides, don't you need to consult with Joyce?"

"I make the decisions in our relationship." I couldn't believe I actually uttered those words aloud. But I wanted to seize on the role of the decision maker in our relationship and to demonstrate to Skyler my strengths. I did have a thousand questions and I wasn't sure if I was going to get them all answered satisfactorily in the course of this evening. How were my family and friends going to react to such public exposure of my most private relationship. I remember Mama often admonishing me when I was placing myself in much too prominent a position, "Fools' names and fools' faces often appear in public places."

I tacked two of the main concerns head on. "You referred to Joyce as 'Joyce'. You are aware that we are now in a Dom/sub relationship and she is my sub 'anus'."

"That's what makes the relationship even more intriguing."

"Will you be playing up that aspect of our relationship."

"No, we are a family magazine. But certainly that aspect will be alluded to."

"Are you aware that I'm also in a relationship with a mailgirl, nine?"

A devious smile crossed her face. "That just adds to the intrigue."

"Will she be a part of the article?"

"A small part, but she will definitely be referenced."

"Will she be featured in any of the photographs?"

"I don't want to interfere in Ted's artistic province, but I certainly see her being pictured in at least one of the photographs. I imagine her hoving in the background of you and Joyce being featured as the focus of one of the picture."

"She must be naked."

The smile reemerged. "As I say, we are a family magazine, but frankly, I would have it no other way. There will be no full frontal nudity, but she will be tastefully shown in her nakedness. Indeed, I hope to feature the tuxedo you wore to the opera. That just encapsulates your intrigue. I happen to know that the outfit was designed so that your tuxedo shirt could be discarded and you would be covered only by the cover provided by the tuxedo jacket. I want one of the pictures showing you dressed in that with your tantalizing breasts crying out desperately to breathe free. And Joyce is to be naked in at least one of the pictures, probably more."