One of the rules I must live by, is that I am forbidden to wear panties and am required to wear skirts and dresses at all times, so that Master has easy and instant access to His slave at any given moment. It also serves the purpose of always feeling this one small form of control and submission to Master’s will. It symbolizes that I am always exposed to Him. Nothing is to be hidden or covered from my Master.
When I first became Master’s slave, I found this an awkward thing to get used to. It felt to me like everyone knew. It would make my cheeks burn. I would fret about what would happen if the wind blew up my skirt? I also live in Canada and this in the winter is quite a deliciously torturous clitoral experience. The fretting and focusing on the lack of panties I confess, often causes a state of tense arousal.
Last night I accompanied Master to an event and I was wearing a beautiful, long medieval dress with not a thing under it. I felt exposed not just to Master but to the world. I felt the lack of clothing even though I was draped in a dress. I felt like a harlot, like Master's personal whore, ready whenever He may bid.
As some time has passed I’ve come to truly relish this way of pleasing my Master. I’ve come to enjoy the unexpected chills stimulating me, I’ve come to enjoy the sudden, impulsive use Master makes of my always being accessible to Him regardless of what I am doing or where I am. It is a very small order to obey and a tiny glimmer of the power dynamic between us.
Yet if I add up all of those tiny, little glimmers, all of the small commands, it creates a very erotic and tantalizing tapestry that I can't help but find hauntingly beautiful.