The Power of Five

You are standing outside the door at the allotted time. You are wearing the prescribed outfit. Plain white blouse, grey pencil skirt, black stockings and suspenders with black high-heeled shoes. Unsure of yourself you nervously shuffle your feet as you open the padded envelope that was tapped to the oak door.

Inside you find a thick, black blindfold and an elegantly written note.

You read the instructions twice. The word "anyone" screams out at you, does this mean there is to be more than just your Master present. There has never been mention of anyone else, what has He planned for you? How many will be there? What will they do? Will you know them? Will you see them? A million questions and indecisions jostle for attention in your head. Doubt and uncertainty cease you. You think about leaving, but Master has commanded you and you must follow His instructions to the letter.

You drop the note and envelope to the floor and raise the blindfold to your head. You have worn them before of course, but never in a situation like this. Never to enter such unknown territory, but you know you must, to please Master. You slip the blindfold over your head, it is well padded and tight, it fits snugly over your eyes, forcing them closed and blocking out any chance of seeing ever the merest glimmer of light. Shakily you feel for the door handle, it is cold and hard in your hand as you turn it and push the door open. You enter the room and lean back on the door as you close it.

The room is warm, the air heavy with the scent of incense, there is a barely audible monastic chant coming from some unknown source which seems to surround. Your back pressed against the door you steady your breathing, trying to calm yourself and concentrate on your Master's instructions. Slowly you begin to walk forward, one tentative step at a time, sliding your feet over the thick pile of the carpet, not wanting to risk tripping or falling.

One, two, three, mentally counting off the steps, four, five, six, wondering what awaits you at the end of the walk, seven eight nine, fighting the anxiety, quelling the urge to turn and run, ten, finally you have arrived. You stand still, your hands hanging limply at your side, your feet slightly apart as instructed.

You hope when your Master enters He will be pleased with you, your outfit and your position.

You strain your ears for a clue as to your surroundings, but all you can hear is the insistent chanting, the Latin phrases entering your head, lulling you, floating your mind on a fantastic journey. Your heart slows, your breathing shallower as the hypnotic music works its magic on you, calming you exactly as you know your Master had intended.

You begin to drift, your awareness of your surroundings blurring as your mind is taken soaring by the music that is now in your head.

You jump and gasp as a finger is pressed to your mouth. Your heart leaps at the shock of being brought down from your revelry. The finger keeps up a steady pressure till you calm a little.

It then begins tracing round your mouth, following the contours of your lips. Is this Master, is it an unknown stranger. You concentrate on the finger, your only contact with this person. The finger gently trails across your cheek, down to your jaw line and back to softly touch your earlobe. Pausing momentarily to toy with your earlobe the finger follows the line of your jaw back to your chin and onto your other ear, this time lingering a little longer playing a little more with you ear, following the outline with just the lightest touch, before moving through your hair to the nape of your neck. Shivers running up and down your spine as the mysterious finger runs up and down your neck, from the collar of your blouse up into your hair and back.

Then, without warning, the finger pulls away from you. You can hear no sound except for the chanting that continues in the background.

Again, without warning, the finger lightly presses against your throat, startling you once again. This time it follows a line downwards, till it meets the crook of your blouse where it pauses before returning upwards along the lapel of your blouse to your collarbone, across your throat and down your lapel on the other side. There is something different this time, the texture of the fingertip is harsher, rougher and the pressure it exerts more forceful. Ah you recoil slightly as you realize this is not the same finger as before, that someone else is exploring your body. You force yourself to remain still and not pull back or even turn and flee. Is this one Master or someone else, with shame you realize that you cannot remember how Master's fingers feel. A pink flush covers your cheeks, from the embarrassment of knowing that someone other than Master is here and also that you do not recognize your Masters touch. He who owns you and has complete control over you.

The finger has now stopped and has tapped once on the top button of your blouse. What does this mean? The tap comes again, this time with more force. What is expected of you? Again the tap, but this time followed by a tap on the back of your hand and another on your button. Can it be that the finger or its owner at least, wants you to undo your button? You blush redder at the thought of others being there while you carry out the wishes of this unknown, disembodied power. Tentatively you bring your hand up to the neck of your blouse, you receive no sign that this is good or bad. With fingers that you are barely able to control you fumble the button undone and drop your hands to your sides. The finger returns to your chest, again following the line of your blouse, but this time lower, past the now open top button and back up the other side, till it brushes against your neck, runs under your chin and down the other side. This time the finger taps on the next button down, you know what it wants, but you hesitate, knowing that with this button undone the finger will have access to your cleavage. Its owner's eyes will be able to see your lacy white bra, with your breasts showing above it. You know that your blush has now reached down to your breasts. The finger taps again, the most forceful yet, leaving you in no doubt about what it wants. You take a deep breath and comply with its wishes, your hands falling limply to your sides. The finger this time starts at your chin and runs very, very slowly down your chest. Lingering in the valley between your breasts, which are now heaving as your breathing increases in pace and depth. Who are these people? What do they want of you?

The finger traces the edge of your bra, pressing lightly against the soft flesh of your flushed breast, up your strap to your shoulder, up to your ear, across your neck to your other ear, down your shoulder, and your bra strap and across your other breast. It makes this trip several more times, each time lingering to caress your breasts and your ears.

You are now expecting the tap on your third button when in comes and follow its lead straight away this time. Your initial trepidation and embarrassment is now tempered with curiosity and you find yourself becoming excited at the prospect of where this journey will lead you.

This time the finger taps on the next button down straight away. Almost eagerly you follow it down your blouse as it moves on to each button in turn. Being careful not to touch the unseen hand that you know is there, not wanting to incur the wrath of the owner who is exerting this exhilarating control over you.

When all your buttons have been undone, you return your hands to their position at your side. The finger starts tracing small circles on your quivering stomach, the lightest of touches, barely touching you, but enough to excite you in a way you haven't been excited before. The finger parts your blouse to expose your goose pimpled flesh. Then hooking itself inside your blouse neck, you feel your blouse being pulled down first from one shoulder then the other. You stand now with your blouse around your waist, your wrists trapped by the cuffs as your unknown tormentor traces the outline of your breasts, straying to touch your nipples that are now beginning to react to your excitement.

Then, it stops, its attention turns to your blouse sleeves, it finds your cuff buttons an taps lightly on each in turn, by now you know what is expected of and you unbutton your cuffs, as you do your blouse slides off your wrists and drops to the floor around your feet.

The ever-moving finger is now once again stroking the nape of your neck, making slow movements down your shoulders. Could it be that this is someone else again? The touch is different again, the finger smaller and the nail coming into contact with your skin, leaving an icy chilling trail behind it.

You strain to get some clue from the touch, could this be Master? No, too small a finger. Small finger? Long nail? Such a light touch? It can't be? Can it? Your mind races trying to resolve the conflict, you can draw only one conclusion. This finger belongs to a woman. Your Master is sharing you with another woman!!! You've never discussed this. How could He do a thing like this to you without telling you?

While you are thinking these things the finger is exploring your shoulders, you try not to shudder at the touch of another woman, enduring it to please your Master, but not thrilled as you had been by the other 2 fingers.

This finger follows the line of your spine downwards, stopping when it meets your bra strap. It pauses for a moment, before lifting and tapping twice on the catch of your bra.

NO!! NO!! It can't be, this unknown woman is asking, no telling, you to unhook your bra, exposing yourself to an unknown number of strangers. Your blush returns, stronger than before, you breathing fast and deep. You know this is a test of your devotion to your Master, but you don't know if you have the strength to pass it. You know you must or face disappointing your Master.

Like two robots that you don't own or even seem to control your hands slowly, jerkily move up your back. You cannot believe what you are about to do, but still your hands move under the control of a higher power than mere conscious thought. You have no feelings in your fingertips as they make contact with your bra catch. You fumble with unfeeling fingers for what seems like minutes until you finally unhook the catch. The weight of your breasts causing your bra to sag forward slightly. You are so ashamed that your cheeks burn red and tears well up in your eyes. You fight for self-control, knowing that you must stand and endure whatever Master has arranged for you. You are snapped back to reality by the finger tapping your hand softly. You know you must remove your bra, but how can He subject you to such humiliation in front of so many people? You have decided that there is an unseen audience in front of you, who are taking it turns to undress you, slowly and deliberately. As you hook your trembling fingers in your straps the finger urgently taps your hands, seeming to want you to stop. You continue and the tapping becomes more insistent. You stop and the tapping stops, you move your hands away and the tapping doesn't return. Cautiously you start to drop your hands, still no tapping, you drop them further, still OK until finally they are back at your side. Puzzled, you stand, blindfold, with your blouse at your feet and your bra unhooked, but still covering your ample breasts. What will happen next? Are they to change positions again? Who will be next?

You find out almost immediately when you are touched on your shoulder by a finger that slowly runs down your chest. It is the woman again or is another woman? A woman for sure, the small finger, the light touch, the graze of the fingernail on your skin. Her finger draws small circles on your chest with the nail. Circles that move outwards and downwards, etching a pattern on your flushed and hot skin. The finger reaches the rise of your breast and changes its pace, matching the rise and fall of your breast as you breath, still tracing out its own intricate pattern. Slipping into your bra cup as its journey downwards continues. You gasp as the finger approaches your nipple, which you know by now must be getting hard. The finger stops and presses your lips into silence. After a moment it resumes its journey, but this time on the other side of your chest, small circles, spreading outwards and downwards till again it is inside the cup of your bra. This time you control the urge to gasp and the finger continues its exploration, stopping short of your nipple. It withdraws and returns briefly to your shoulder, after a moment it hooks under your strap and slides your bra off your shoulder. Moving to the other side it does the same there. Your bra is now lodged on your upper arms; you try to move your arms to catch it, to delay the moment when you will be topless before a room full of strangers. Your efforts are in vain of course. The finger returns to the centre of your bra and with one slow movement it pulls it down your arms, exposing your breasts for the first time. The tears in your eyes well up again, this time spilling over and soaking into the blindfold. All you want is to grab your clothes and run from the room, get away from the humiliation, but your love for your Master roots you to the spot, forcing you to stay, no matter what is to come.

You feel a tap on the back of your hand and another on your back below your shoulder blades. What is asked of you now? Again the same two taps and this time a slight push against your hand. Experimentally you lift your hand and arm behind your back. The finger pushes it up till it is horizontal across your back. The finger taps your other hand and the elbow on your first arm. You lift it so that your hands are clenching your elbows behind your back. The finger now pushes your chin up and back, stretching your neck and pushing your head back. Finally it pushes on the fronts of your shoulders, forcing them back. In this position you know your breasts are on display for all to see. With your arms, head and shoulders like this they are pushed up and outwards. You know that the beads of perspiration you can feel are in plain view for everyone there. The finger returns to your breasts, this time drawing big circles around them. First one then the other, the finger nail still dragging over your skin. The circles slowly and almost imperceptibility getting smaller. Round and round, smaller and smaller. You know the finger is working its way inwards, you know that your nipple are getting more aroused, because despite the initial revulsion you are beginning to enjoy this new experience. The thought of another woman toying with your breasts, while an eager audience looks on. Unseen and unheard beyond the artificial darkness of the blindfold. You now voluntarily thrust your chest out, trying to gain more stimulation from the finger, but the finger backs off in order to maintain the gentle touch. Now closer to your nipple, your areole puckered in anticipation of the first touch from this unseen Mistress. You admit to yourself that Her touch is having an effect on you, arousing you in a way you didn't think it was possible for another woman to do.

Before the first touch comes the finger stops, touches you lightly on the lips and is gone. You wander what you have done to cause this change? Have you tried too hard? Have you broken Masters rules by trying to touch the finger yourself?

The answer comes when the finger returns to touch your stomach. Harder and coarser than before. A new finger? Someone else has joined the play. Another player who will have their way with you and move on. How many more are there to be before your ordeal is over and you can collapse into the safety of you're Masters arms?

This finger is not so subtle. Its movements more urgent and hurried. The gentleness of touch missing. It must belong to a man, a man who knows what He wants and wants it in a hurry. His finger quickly goes to the waistband of your skirt and runs around the top, dragging against your skin. Back and forwards, each time pushing itself a little further below your waistband. Each time invading you a little further. It moves around your side and starts running up and down your spine, from the waistband to your arms, still locked behind your back. It stops and taps the hook at the top of your skirt. Knowing what you must do, you drop your hands and unhook the waistband of your skirt. The finger taps your hand and then taps your shoulder blade again. You are to return your hands to their former position. The finger runs down your spine again, this time past your now open waistband till it touches the top of your zip. Exerting gentle pressure, it slides your zip down a fraction; at the same time it maintains pressure on your spine. More downward pressure and your zip moves again, the finger is now at the top of your cleft, just resting on the elastic of your panties. More pressure, more movement of the zip, and this time the finger catches the top of your panties and drags them with it. More pressure, more movement of the zip and now your cheeks are being exposed as the finger now sits between them. With a final movement your zip is undone. The finger withdraws allowing your panties to partially recover your ass cheeks that are now as flushed as your face and chest. With a quick movement the finger hooks your skirt and pulls it roughly down over your thighs. Showing the assembled company your white panties, which you are sure must now show a tell tale damp patch, and your stocking clad legs.

You begin to shake with the depth of emotion you are feeling. The shame, the embarrassment, the anger at your Master for doing this to you, your disgust for yourself for allowing it to happen. Overriding all of these is your love and devotion for your Master, you remember His words in the note at the door. "you will come to no harm while you are in this room" It is this one thing now that keeps you here, exposed so openly in front of so many people.

Another finger touches your stomach just above your suspender belt. You know for sure this is a new finger, before you can even discern its feel. Your Master has made you the plaything of His friends and they are determined to each have their turn with you. As this finger runs around your belt you can tell it is thicker and heavier than the others, for sure another man. Shocked, you realize that you now miss the woman's touch that a short time again revolted you so much. While this revelation settles in your mind the new finger runs down the suspender on the outside of your leg and around your stocking top till it meets your other suspender. From there it slowly inches up your suspender, roughly caressing your skin as it travels up to meet your belt at the top. What is He doing? Does He think I am a plaything? He tickles your belly as His finger wanders across it to your hip; here it starts a downward journey on your other outer suspender. Again it runs round your stocking top and back up your suspender to your belt. This continues for several minutes. Down, across, up, across, down, across, up, across, down. Each time you stifle a giggle as the finger touches your belly. Wandering what will happen next, where this mischievous finger will choose to move to.