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Master and I have lived together now for a month, and I've had more sex than in all my life before I met him. We've had sex in all kinds of position and places. His imagination and masculine strength both astound me and intoxicate me.
He hasn't done one thing with me yet, however, and I was waiting to see when he would bring it up.
"Aimee," Master said from the door, a gentle smile curving his lips. "Dress up for tonight. I want you to look your best."
I was kneeling on the floor, dressed in what Master called my "house uniform": black sandals with four-inch heels, 12-denier black sheer stockings, matching lace open-crotch panties and shelf bras ("I want you completely available at all times," Master had explained the uniform to me).
I was in the middle of cleaning up the mess of our last lovemaking session. Master had been deep-throating me until I almost fainted from the intensity of it and the lack of air. My face and chest were coated in a cocktail of mucus, saliva, and Master's cum. My makeup was a mess from the tears. Master thought I looked good like that.
"Yes, Master," I said, lowering my eyes demurely.
I thought about what to wear in the shower. I used the dildo-shaped soap inside my cunt -- I blushed, but Master insisted that I use that word to refer to my vagina -- I shampooed and washed my hair twice, and also used the enema bag Master had hung in the shower twice, the second time using water lightly scented with lilac. Master has so far not taken me there, but I wanted to be prepared.
I patted myself dry, blew dry my hair, and powdered my body. Master was very strict with my personal grooming, and wanted me to look good for him. When he said to "look your best," he meant it. I treated it like preparing to attend a wedding.
I put a bit of rouge on my nipples and over the hood of my clitoris. Then I put on a fresh pair of 10-denier black stockings. Master's standing orders were to wear no panties unless specifically ordered to do so or if I was having my period, so after some thinking I put on a Chinese-silk patterned corset. The corset pulled in my waist, emphasizing my tits and hips, but left the breasts open to his hands and eyes. I attached the garters on the corset to the stockings, smiling to myself.
I looked at myself critically in the mirror. I was 26, 5'2", 106 pounds. I had the nice, girlish curves and the honey, silky-smooth skin typical for Asian women. Unfortunately, it also meant that my tits were on the smaller side, only B-cups, but Master said that he was happy with them (and he did enjoy slapping them and pulling on my nipples). I had a long, oval face, with a thin nose, full lips, and almond-shaped eyes that, with their Asian slant, Master described as "always half-closed, like you are having sex." I blushed thinking about him saying that about me....