Submissive Kitten’s Day part two: Memories!

4 min read

It appeared Master would be a good while with his client, so I headed to my room to get ready for my spa trip. As I sat in front of my mirror, my mind wandered. I reached into the drawer and dug out an old picture of me before I came to Master. Nowadays, I have trouble recognizing that person as me. You see, when Master found me I was a lost soul. In truth, he rescued me, even though at the time I didn’t realize I needed rescuing.

From the beginning, it was a completely different world to the one I had known. It was as if I’d just stepped into the pages of a glossy magazine. The first time I entered the house, a maid led me to a large bedroom with an en suite.

“Dinner will be at seven,” she said as she stood in the doorway. “If you need anything, just pick up the phone.”

I explored the bathroom, which had a shower big enough for an orgy. Tentatively, I stripped and stepped in, confused by the array of levers and faucets and nozzles in front of me. I emerged from the shower refreshed, my skin tingling from the pounding it had taken from the powerful jets.

On the enormous bed sat a package with a note. Scrawled in handwritten ink was the legend, I thought you might need a couple of things. It was true. My belongings barely filled a backpack. The bed looked so inviting that I slipped between the sheets, dozing off.

I was woken by the phone ringing. It was the maid, letting me know that dinner would be served in half an hour. I rose and dressed in the clothes that had been left for me, then wandered through the house until I found the dining room, where a table had been set for two. At the far end was a place card that simply said, “Kitten.” Master arrived and took his seat. While we ate, he questioned me gently about my background. I told him some truths, but mostly I doled out the script I had developed during my spiral downward. I had the strangest sense that he could tell the difference between truth and invention.

I had wrongly assumed that sex would be for dessert, but after dinner Master bid me good night, wishing me a restful night’s sleep, adding, “I have made an appointment for you in the morning.”

Appointment? I have to admit I was curious. This man I’d only just met had taken me into his home, fed me, given me a bed for the night and didn’t intend to share it with me. I went back to my room and tried to watch some TV, but was asleep in no time.

The next morning, Master joined me for breakfast, and then his chauffeur took me for my appointment. I hadn’t known what to expect, but it was with a kind female doctor who gave me a thorough health check. I felt reassured as the chauffeur drove me back to Master’s house, but I also assumed that now that I was medically cleared he would want to fuck me. Wrong. After a couple more days of relaxation, it began to bug me that he had not even hinted that he was sexually interested in me. He was unfailingly courteous, but that was all.

On the sixth day, Master told me over breakfast that he had plans for me. My sexual desires stirred momentarily before he explained that it was a trip to a spa that he had in mind. I was intrigued. The chauffeur dropped me off at a big house up a hidden drive. The receptionist led me through to a deck overlooking beautiful woodland. She handed me a robe to change into, and I noticed it had “Kitten” embroidered on the front.

Another girl brought me a drink and invited me to take off the robe and climb into a mud pit sunk into the floor. It looked awful but it felt heavenly, and I relaxed and enjoyed the sensation, dozing happily. When I opened my eyes, the two women were on hand to guide me to the outdoor shower, where the younger one, now naked but for a pair of panties, scrubbed away all the mud, being careful to miss nothing. She led me into a room with a huge inflatable mattress on the floor.

She took my robe and said, “Lie down on your stomach. It’s time for your Nuru massage…”

I had no idea what a Nuru massage was; in fact I’d never has a professional massage, so I had no idea what to expect. I was surprised when the masseuse took off her robe too. The gel she poured over my back was warm. It seemed to spread over my skin and I was covered from head to toe, although she’d hardly touched me. The sensation was very erotic, and I started to feel aroused.

The masseuse moved her body against mine, using every part of it to stimulate me. It felt incredible. I was so ready when she finally touched me intimately, her thigh sliding between mine to rub against my pussy. I wanted to grind on her, but our bodies were so slick with gel I had to let her take control and tease me at her own slow pace. The physical frustration and mental foreplay of the past few days all conspired to make me feel like I was throbbing with sexual excitement.

Slippery with gel and my own lubrication, at first I barely felt it when her fingers penetrated me. But then my pussy involuntarily clenched around her probing fingers and I gasped with the sharp spike of pleasure. She stroked me skillfully, finding my G-spot which seemed to blossom and swell beneath her touch, making me float on a cloud of euphoria. Even when a finger pushed into my ass, I felt utterly blissed out, my former frustration replaced by a sweet, steady ascent to orgasm.

After my first intense climax I tried to touch her too, to share the pleasure, but she held my hand still. “No!” she admonished me. “This is for just for you. Relax and enjoy it.”

I did as she instructed me. I lost track of how many times she made me orgasm, fingers coaxing me to the edge and beyond it time and time again. After one final orgasm left me prone on the mattress, intoxicated with bliss, she left me there to sleep. When I awoke, she took me to the shower again, before handing me back my robe.

As we went along a corridor, I heard a muffled yell from behind one closed door. I asked what it was, but the girl just replied, “That room is not for today. You will learn about it one day.”

She led me into what looked like a regular beauty salon except that there were no mirrors. Two beauty therapists waxed my body smooth, washed and styled my hair, painted my nails and did my make-up. After all that pampering, the hostess returned and took me to a dressing room, where I found beautiful back lingerie, stockings, heels and a little black dress. There was also a box containing a simple gold necklace with a pendant that I later learned was my Master’s personal symbol. Looking in the mirror, I could hardly believe my transformation.

The chauffeur was waiting to drive me home, but this time I found my Master had come along for the ride. I felt myself blush as I thanked him for the experience. As we chatted and I told him about my day, I could sense his approval. I wondered what would happen next…

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