Our Only Hope - S01 E32

Story 9 months ago

Our Only Hope - S01 E32

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 32

After Sam and his guards left, I told pussy, “Why don’t you slip something on and we will go downstairs to eat. Then we can catch some sleep and go into tonight rested.”

“Or,” she said, clipping her leash to the front of the shiny black collar that was around her neck and handing me the other end, “you could lead me into the bedroom and we can get rid of some nervous energy so we can go into tonight relaxed. Then we can call room service and give them something to talk about tomorrow.”

We compromised. After we got rid of our nervous energy, we went downstairs to the restaurant and gave them something to talk about tomorrow. No, she didn’t go down naked, though I think she would have been more than willing... and it probably would have caused less talk. Instead she pulled a loose fitting, short black skirt over her naked body and left the leash in place, trailing down inside the front of the dress and wrapping around her waist under the dress. The dress covered all, but the soft, black, shiny material revealed everything. I’m sure that everyone in the restaurant had something for tomorrow’s conversation.

We got back to the room around seven. Pussy felt that she had more nervous energy to get rid of. I wasn’t that nervous, but am always happy to help out a woman in need... of any sort. She was beautiful and an excellent lover, but I was unable to get the thought out of my head that she could very easily snap me in half if she wanted to. I wondered if that was how the male spider feels just before his mate injects him with poison and wraps him up for her larder. I didn’t think those thoughts were a good topic for post-coital conversation, so I set the alarm on my cellphone and we both quickly fell asleep.

My alarm woke me around eleven-thirty. Pussy was already up and had showered. She was drying her hair with the hotel blow dryer. She didn’t seem to need a brush, but was pulling her fingers through her hair like a comb as she dried it. I quickly showered and dried my hair with a towel. Combing it in place was all that was needed– one of the advantages of being a man.

We spent the next hour verbally going over the steps of the plan and then left for the club. It was a different valet on duty, but when I gave him my short spiel about the car being electric, he recognized who I was. “Don’t worry, Mister Guthrie,” he said cheerily, “I’ll take special care of your vintage Tesla.”

There was a certain sadness in handing over my keys. I wasn’t sure I would ever see it again... or that it would see me, depending on how the night progressed.

Pussy was wearing the same soft black dress as we walked into The Blue Deuce. The shiny, chrome, metal leash now hung in the air between her collar and my hand. But she wasn’t walking three steps behind me like a dutiful slave. She was leading me. It was rather obvious that she was, in fact, a powerful woman, but that is often the hidden truth in many D/s relationships. The real power is very often on the collar end of the leash.

Once the elevator doors closed, she slid the leash from my hand and then pulled the black dress up over her head. “Here,” she said, “keep this in your pocket. I may need it later.” When we came out of the elevator into The Fourth Floor’s reception area, my naked slave was dutifully walking behind me with just a little slack in her leash. I swiped my card at the hostess desk and said, “Harold Guthrie... and friend.”

The hostess replied, “Your slave isn’t in our registry. She has to be registered before she can enter.”

I almost panicked for a moment, but then the hostess continued, “She needs to face the camera, give her slave name and verify that she is here of her own free will.”

I wasn’t the only one caught offguard by the hostess’ initial comment. I could see pussy relax slightly as she faced the camera and said, “My name is pussy. I am Master Guthrie’s willing slave and have willingly accompanied him here tonight.”

“Thank you,” chirped the hostess as she pressed a couple of buttons on her desk. “Please follow me.”

We were shown a table slightly closer to the front than I had occupied the previous night. Since I hadn’t done anything to make me a greater VIP than I had been last night, I assumed that the move closer to the stage had to do with pussy’s eye appeal.

We hadn’t even taken our seats when our waitress slave came running up to the table and presented herself with the required, “What may this worthless slave bring to an esteemed Master for his pleasure?”

I tried to look like I was thinking and then replied, “I think I will have another of those Weihenstephaner dark beers like I had last night.” I then sat down. I was surprised that pussy knelt on the floor next to me. We hadn’t talked about that detail. I pointed at her and she surprised me again by saying in her most sultry voice, “May I have a Gentleman Jack, Master?”

I looked at the naked slave waitress and said, “And also bring a Gentleman Jack, double, neat.”

“Yes, Master,” the waitress said and scurried off into the darkness.

Pussy leaned forward toward me and said softly, “Twenty-three minutes to show time.”

The naked waitress slave had run back with our drinks, so I just nodded my head.

I relaxed slightly when I saw that Mistress Tenesha’s steel globe had already been put in place. Master Tyrone, Mistress Kelly, and Mastress Barbette were also in place. There were now three additional people strapped in place with them. Master Walter walked out into the center of the stage in front of the curtain and said in a loud voice, “We have a very special treat for you tonight. I present the Anaconda Sisters.”

With that the thin, reedy, music of the Indian snake-charmer’s flute filled the club and four men strode down the aisle carrying a slightly larger version of the now familiar basket hanging from the poles they were carrying on their shoulders. The curtains had opened as they walked in, so they walked up the steps and set the basket in the center of the stage. The music continued as the lid popped open slightly and slid to the stage floor. Then a green hand began slithering just above the rim of the basket. Soon it was joined by another hand... and then another and another.

I cupped my hand over my mouth and spoke into my watch. “Whisky Tango Foxtrot,” I said softly. “Then I added, Snafu, Fubar, Tarfu.” I heard a deep bass voice respond “Shit!” in my earpiece. Then I said softly, “Little Sister Anaconda is here. She might recognize me from my night at Colonel Boogie’s. Showtime is NOW!”

Sam responded with “It is now T minus 5. The running back is going out for the pass.” Shit was about to get very real. I reached down and slapped pussy loudly on the ass. She yelped and threw her drink in my face. I jumped to my feet yelling, “You bitch!”

Two security men immediately appeared at my table. I pointed down to her and said angrily, “I want her lying across that spanking bench by the time I get back. If she won’t go willingly, strap her in place.”

Pussy was now pleading anxiously, “I’m sorry, Master. I didn’t mean it. I’ll be good. I’ll take my punishment. Don’t be angry with me.”

I looked down at her and said in my best snarl, “Then I’d better see you lying willingly across that spanking bench when I get back with my Elephant Crop.” I then stormed to the back of the club and went into the elevator.