And then she was washing my hair and wrapped in big towels she took me back through the house to her bedroom, where she blew my hair dry and brushed it, and then gave me a pair of yellow cotton panties to put on.
When I had dressed in my own clothes again, we were standing by her front door and she kissed me softly on the lips.
“Come back here tonight as soon as you get out of work.” She said. “And remember what your Mistress told you earlier. No masturbating. Savor your need, but don’t allow yourself to relieve it.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem.” I said. “Those are easy directions to follow.”
“What do you mean Gabriella?” she asked. “How so?”
“I’ve tried it.” I admitted. “I’ve just never gotten it to work like it should. At least I don’t think I have.”
“You mean…masturbation?” she asked, her eyes big.
“Yes.” I said.
“You’ve never made yourself cum?” she asked.
“No I haven’t.” I admitted. “I’ve tried. And I think I’ve been close. But I’ve never been able to figure out how to get myself over the edge.”
She looked at me sympathetically, and then leaned in and put her arms around me.
“We’ll get you over the edge Gabby.” She whispered. “I promise. Give us some time together and you’ll be the master of the edge.”
“I hope so.” I said. “Because just thinking about what I saw earlier and what we did…I’m already dripping through these panties.”
She kissed my neck.
“Tonight sweet Gabriella.” She said. “Tonight.”
~~
“Hold onto the railing girl.” Mistress Isabella told me. “I’m right here with you.”
“Yes Mistress.” I said.
Placing one foot in front of the other I tentatively went down the stairs, feeling the air become cooler with each step.
I was blindfolded, naked, collared, and leashed.
I’d gone through my shift at work like a zombie, unable to really concentrate on anything except for the steady pressure of my clitoris as my slippery cunt lips slid back and forth with every step that I took.
When my manager asked if anyone was willing to leave early to save payroll I’d practically sprinted to my car, I was in such a hurry to return to Isabella’s house.
When I’d knocked on the door I briefly wondered if she might have changed her mind as the day wore on and grew suddenly afraid that she’d greet me with regret or anger.
Instead she opened the door and pulled me inside, pushing me against the closed door and pawing at my body while her lips found mine.
For several minutes we kissed like that, our mouths hardly breaking contact as she reached under my shirt to unhook my bra, and unsnapped my pants and pushed her hand down inside them to cup my swollen and sensitive mound.
“You’re fucking wet.” She panted with her lips against my mouth.
“Yes.” I moaned, feeling my entire body throb as I pushed myself against her hand.
Eventually she broke apart from me and taking my hand she led me to the laundry room.
When we were standing in front of the shower, she pointed, and I realized that my collar was still looped over the same showerhead she’d put it on this morning.
“Are you ready to go further?” she whispered.