Sir surprised me today by suggesting we do a bit of shopping. Naturally, there were conditions. I could buy anything – ANYTHING – I wanted to as long as the color was red. I would also wear what he chose for me the entire time we were out. Easy Peasy! I should have known better.
First, Sir attached nipple jewelry tight enough to keep my nips perky but certainly not so tight as to restrict blood flow. Of course, no bra was allowed. Next, he bent me over the kitchen counter and inserted two balls into my puss and a plug into my ass. Thankfully, he also had me step into panties. Over all of this I was allowed to wear a fun, long skirt and a white top which, much to my embarrassment, was just thin enough to see the outline of the nipple jewelry.
We then drove to my favorite clothing store. Sir, though, was not quite finished dressing me. I was about to put my mask on when he stopped me.
“Open your mouth,” he commanded.
In his hand was a ball gag with holes so it would not restrict my breathing.
“Really?” I asked.
“That’s ten spankings when we get home. Want to question me further?”
I shook my head and opened my mouth. The gag was not attached to anything – just the ball which I had to hold with my teeth and lips. Over this, I put on my mask.
For an hour and a half we walked through the store – me silently choosing a scarf, a blouse, and a dress – him asking me yes and no questions to which I could only nod my responses. By the time we were back in the car, my jaws were aching, my mask wet with drool, and my puss wetter.
I looked pleadingly at him. I had agreed to wear everything he chose while we were out and, technically, we were still “out.” He took the scenic route home. When we finally arrived back home, he said, “Take your mask and clothing off. Bend over the kitchen counter. I believe you have 10 swats coming.”
He was right. I stood there, my breasts pressed flat against the cold counter, and waited. Again, he took his time, letting the anticipation build up. He rummaged through the kitchen drawers until he exclaimed, “Ah! Perfect!”
Ten swats later and I had left teeth marks on the soft ball gag, come twice, and would have a sore bottom for hours.
“Now,” Sir stated, “spit out that gag and than me properly for taking you shopping today.”
Happily, I obeyed.