My Master SpeaksbyPhoenix Arrow©
The car rolls slowly along, my heart fluttering like crazy. I know I must do this, but I still tremble beside him. I clench my coat tighter to my nude body, preparing for when we both must part.
There it is, I can see it. The orange shiny pylon standing like a beckon by the side of the road. Traffic driving by on one side, people walking merrily on the other.
I hold his hand, making me feel warmer as it squeezes mine back. He knows this is difficult for me. All those people watching, all those who'll be laughing or gawking in shock. But he has commanded it, he has spoken. Yes, when my Master speaks, I obey.
The car stops and the door latches pop. He brings a hand to my cheek and caresses it, before kissing my forehead. I lean to kiss his lips, but he holds me back. I have not earned the right to kiss my Master.
I smile, knowing it's my time and push the coat off my shoulders. I open the door and great the world, my nude body instantly gaining attention. With a numb mind I march with a purpose to the orange phallus. It seems so unassuming, so random.
Master could have pulled up right along side of it. He could have made it easier for me. But I am meant to entertain him. To instead allow him to take joy out of my walk of exhibitionist shame. Fifteen yards of my tits swaying freely, of my black hair flowing in the wind, of my ass in full view, and my dutiful trimmed pubic mound.
Despite the scalding hot asphalt, my mind ignores my feet, instead pushing on, carrying me ever closer to my goal.
Women are hissing, and men are gawking as more and more notice the spectacle only just beginning. "What is that crazy woman thinking?", they musty be asking.
Only three yards away now. I am almost there. So close to the beginning of my task.
My Master always told me how beautiful my body was, but a slave like me does not think so. I am not beautiful for others, only for him. My charms, my body is beautiful for him alone.
I try my best to ignore the approving glee of boys and men tracking my progress with enlarged eyes. To me they are nothing. Trash. He's the only man on earth, my life.
Yet the women are a totally other ordeal. The scorn, the shaking heads, the whispering.
Finally I am here, my target, the reason for this walk of nudist shame. The traffic cone. A beacon of orange colored phallus so conveniently heightened to just below my hips.
Suddenly I can't help it, I have a look around. Dozens and dozens of people just staring. Do they know why I am here? Do they have ANY idea what it is I am about to do?
I look back towards the car, at the tinted dark windows. He is in there, watching, waiting, smiling. I lift my hand to my lips and blow him a kiss. I would walk off a cliff for him, my Master.
I lift my leg and swing it on the other side, straddling the narrow tip and nestling it softly against my self lubricated sex.
Shrieks and gasps erupt from the disapproving women and girls as I lower my hips further and further onto my new lover. Inch by inch my giant orange cock disappears inside me. The whole time I stare at the black limo, hoping I am pleasing my Master, enjoying my degrading performance.
In moments I'm rising back up and plunging back down. Yes, I'm fucking a traffic cone in public, but I don't care. I'm doing this for him, and that's all that matters.
People are moving closer, no doubt entranced by my now slick shiny body bouncing comically on this cone. My tits bouncing for all to see, my pussy lips stretching and wrapping around the orange tool.
I begin to moan, any woman would. The pleasure too much to keep hidden in shame. I begin to cry, a cry of happiness. I am a good slave, doing exactly as my Master commands. No orgasm can come faster, stronger than knowing I am pleasing him.
The tension is building. I cannot stop it. I need to erupt. That is my task, that is my goal. I grab my tits and squeeze, just the way he likes me to. I wallow in the stares and hisses. Women my age and older, shaming this skank, this whore. They try uselessly to guide their husbands and boyfriends away. But I am too much of an attraction for them to resist.
Young girls and boys can be the worst. The way they giggle and point at my spreading milking sex as it rises up and down. I can only imagine how I must appear in all their eyes.
Faster and faster my hips fall upon my new lover. My mouth agap in sinful pleasure, despite the feeling of being split in two. The more I slam down my hips, the further I'm impaled.
The crowd is now only feet away from me, close enough to observe every detail of my sweaty naked body, but far enough as if I'm some disease.
I pick up the pace, desperate to cum like a slut on this orange cone and run back to Master, to be again with him, in his approving loving arms.
My juices are fast running down the sides of my phallus, collecting around its base. What a sight it must make as I howl in pain and pleasure, my pussy spurting and squishing up and down. But the whole time, my eyes never leave that dark tinted window. He's why I'm here, and he's the one I will be cumming for...any moment now...
I feel a hand on my back, caressing it, running down my slick spine. I don't even look, back, knowing it will only delay me. I know it is a man, coping a feel of this treat before him too great to pass up. Soon his hand is on my bottom, squeezing and pinching it along as I bob ever faster on my stick of orange fun.
Another brave hand suddenly takes hold of my left bouncing tit, cupping it as if he owns it. I wince that much more at his violation, but I'm oh so close...
Desperate to make myself cum, I bring both my hands to my pussy and rub franticly, still trying hard to thrust my orange traffic cone deeper into my trembling body. My fingers are a blur as my poor clitty feels their wrath. So very close!
I cry out as my nipples are pinched and pulled, more men taking liberties. Can't they let me be? Can't a girl fuck herself out in the open in peace? Oh why must these pervs touch me?
Just a few more thrusts...almost...
I can hear a police car far off in the distance. It's getting closer. The sounds of its sirens seeming angry and urgent. My time is running out. I need to cum! I need to cum for him! It needs to be NOW!
I shake and shudder as I grab hold of my stick with both hands and impale myself one last deep time. I cry and cry, shaking my wet hair about, thrashing, screaming, keeping almost all my weight down on my plastic lover.
It is done, it is over. My task, his command, complete. I have orgasmed upon this traffic cone like a public whore. HIS whore.
With weak knees I pull myself back up a minute later, plopping the juiced cone out of my gapping sex. By now the sirens are blaring about, only a block or two away. With the hot asphalt again scalding my poor feet I rapidly walked back to my savior. Past the touching, feeling men. Past the hissing, disapproving women. Past the giggling children and towards the dark limo.
Seven yards away I begin to smile. I know I will make it, I know I did him right. I am a good girl, a good slave. He will be happy. I hope he will be happy.
The door opens and I get in. In another moment the car is pulling away. Away from the latest test of humiliation I happily embrace. Inside my Master holds me, kissing my head. I snuggle up close and cry. Not of fear but of love. I am complete, like no woman ever has, being with my Master, my owner.
The End! My Master Speaks
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