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He smoothed the dress back down over my hips and ass and I heard him move in front of me where he grabbed the leash that was still attached to the choker around my neck. He pulled me forward, and I tried not to fall, my heels clicking loudly on the concrete before I felt soft ground beneath my feet. Stumbling blindly, Master walked me quickly through what appeared to be a soil path. My stilettos fortunately only sunk slightly into the frost-hardened ground.We slowed down and I was sure I heard a number of male voices muttering as Master brought me to a halt. We were still outside but the temperature appeared to have risen ever so slightly. I could smell the unmistakeable scent of male sexuality all around me and this was confirmed as Master opened my dress, the buttons flying off as he pulled it apart. The sound of cheers filled the air and I sensed there were many men present. Master removed my dress completely and pulled my leash hard as he urged me forward.Still blindfolded, I. I conceded willingly. It was a marriage of political import…that I looked forward to as a means of escape. Do not get me wrong readers, It was by no means a happy consent from my side, It was just that a wife enjoyed a different kind of freedom, one that would never be allowed to a daughter. As is the fashion of a good writer ,I should indulge you with some details. I had been a source of constant worry to my esteemed household since the day I first learnt to speak. It was not the manner of speaking I assure you, nor some kind of ugly stutter. It was what came out of my mouth-a voice that was a bit deep, and a bit too loud to be considered the voice of a proper pretty lady in those days. No! stall your thoughts right now…it was my no means masculine, only not typical. My first music teacher heard me sing once for the very first time and shook his head in disbelief uttering in a very alarmed way-‘good gracious, what a voice!’. But, it was some time before I myself realized that it.
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