The Tree Trimming

by Jo

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© Copyright 2011 - Jo - Used by permission

Storycodes: M+/f+; D/s; naked; gag; decoration; object; bond; insert; toys; display; cons; X

There were things in the oven staying warm and things in the fridge staying cool, the wine was open, nothing left to do but take her shower.

Clean and dry Mandy gazed in the mirror as she did her makeup. She still couldn't get used to her new self. It was such a small change, really. They'd fixed her nose. She'd broken it when she was twelve and it had had a small bend to the right. She had new boobs. Smaller, but only relatively. She was still a C cup, but they were firmer, jouncy, not saggy. The hair was the thing she couldn't seem to get used to. She had been a natural blonde all her life. Along with the boobs and nose, Master had decided she needed to be a redhead. It fell in ringlets, framing her face. She looked like a caricature of herself.

She heard Christmas music. It was her cue.

Naked save for her red pumps, she presented herself to Master. He picked the shiny, silver ball gag from the pile of ornaments on the table, wedged it behind her teeth. It looked like an ornament, but was actually rubber. He cinched the strap.

The tree was ready. It didn't look like a tree just yet, more like a stick figure with a center pole and five metal branches. The greenery was stacked on the table.

A movement caught her eye. Kathy and David were here. She gestured toward the window. Master nodded.

Mandy went into the kitchen and opened the door. It didn't matter if the neighbors saw her, Kathy and David were the neighbors.

They both said hello, she nodded back. In slave mode she was there to serve and be decorative, not interact. Mandy served them drinks, Master came into the kitchen. There was the usual small talk before they drifted into the living room. Mandy knelt at Master's feet. More small talk.

In a small world kind of way, they had met at the resort. They'd know each other from back home. Not close friends. Close enough to share a bottle of wine if you ran into them at the mall. Nowhere near as close as they now were. Mandy wasn't into girls, but Kathy was and Master decided Mandy should expand her horizons. Although in this case cleft would be a more appropriate word. She had to admit Kathy had a very talented tongue. And as much as she'd learned to enjoy it, they only did the girl-girl thing in bondage.

It was an adults-only resort. The whole point of which was to find other like-minded people for a bit of hedonistic fun. Master had her wear her collar. It saved the discomfort of doing that whole 20-question thing over and over. Do you do oral? Do you do anal? What about whips and chains? Collared the questions were moot. Mandy did what pleased her Master and the answers were yes, yes, and yes.

When they ran into each other at the pool they all burst out in that uncomfortable, giggling laughter, like kids getting caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Both women were nude. Both clearly embarrassed. Being naked with strangers was one thing, but this ...

A couple of stiff drinks, a foursome with fuzzy handcuffs, a few hours in slave mode, and they were the best of friends. It was good to have a woman to share that part of her life with. Kathy was still on the fence. She found it embarrassing on the one hand, but thrilling on the other. Whereas Master had trained her to be a slave, Kathy was a born sub looking for a dom. She'd found one in David. Still she thought herself a bit twisted when it came to her dark desires. A week together changed all that. Kathy received her collar on Thursday. Master and Mandy acting as best man and matron of honor, sort of.

And as fate would have it, when the house next door came available, they moved in. It was nice having them close, but a bit odd when she had to go back after a play night and retrieve her ball gag or handcuffs. Odder still when David came over to borrow, not Master's saw, but a couple of hanks of rope.

The bell rang.

Shelly and Steve were younger by about five years. While not collared, Shelly was seriously into the BDSM thing, much more so than she and Kathy. Theirs was more D/s with a bit of bondage for fun - although there were times. Steve played the part of the dom, but it was more to humor Shelly than anything he was heavily into. Some women like to have their feet rubbed, some like to be flogged. Steve, being the good husband, did his husbandly duty.

After some more small talk, Master said, "Well, shall we do this?"

Mandy backed up against the tree and raised her leg. Master pushed the vibrator deep into her pussy. She stepped over the fifth branch, parting her nether lips, nestling it between them.

She spread her arms and legs. They bound her to the "branches" with wire reinforced garland, secured her to the trunk with more garland. Master slipped two hooks through her earlobes, two more through her nipple piercings. He hung the brightly colored ornaments.

They finished putting the tree together. Branch after branch inserted into the holes, positioned just so. Soon Mandy was engulfed in green. Some of the branches they bent so as to wrap around her, concealing her, but not really hiding her. She watched them work around the tree, hanging ornaments, drizzling tinsel, clipping on the lights.

Everybody stepped back, decided the tree looked good. Master bent and plugged in the chord. The lights blazed and the vibrator buzzed to life. He had wired the vibe into the light controller and set it at random. Sometimes the lights merely flickered, sometimes they blazed, sometimes they twinkled, sometimes the light came and went in long slow pulses - as did the toy inside her.

Master lit the candles, killed the lights. After a few moments admiring their work they converged on the kitchen and in short order returned bearing plates and wine glasses. Master fiddled with the logs and got the fire going. The conversation picked up again.

Mandy stood in the semi darkness, seen, but not seen, seeing, but not seeing much. The egg buzzed, twinkled, blazed, pulsed inside her. After several minutes she sensed a rhythm, tuned in to it, and rode it to what would be the first of many orgasms.

It was a picture book setting. Good friends gathered by the fire. Christmas music in the background. The candles glowed, the lights twinkled, and the tree grunted - soft muffled grunts - deep into the winter night.

 

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