Dana's arms were wrapped tightly around Tommy, her tattoos peeking out from underneath her leather jacket's black sleeves. The countryside flew by in the periphery of her vision, her boyfriend's burly back obscuring most of her sight as she hugged him tightly - not that she felt the urge to complain about that. The sun's heat beat down on them, its merciless strength mitigated by the cool wind whipping into the crevices of her clothing.  Her messenger bag rocked gently on her back - a few changes of clothes, toiletries, a few naughty things (but Hatti had such a large collection of those already!) - oh, this was going to be a fun party indeed.<br/><br/>Given her druthers, Dana would have preferred a car, with its air conditioning and safety features, but Tommy had found a fairly cheap way to silence her objections. Dana squirmed happily over the vibrating seat, her long nails digging into his jacket, her toes curling in their high heels. The faster he went, the faster it buzzed; at this point, she'd be willing to pay the speeding ticket herself. God, this was dumb and dangerous but so much fun! Most things were, with Tommy around. He had a sense of reckless - almost callous - enjoyment that never failed to drag her along. She smiled under her helmet. Life was so much better with him around.<br/><br/>Dana squeezed Tommy tightly with one arm; the other hand slid down to his upper thigh, long nails digging into his pants. Distracting the driver was a terrible idea, but at this point, she just couldn't help herself.<br/><br/>-------------<br/><br/>Emma hummed tunelessly as she worked. "You're so<em>good</em>at household things!" her friend Kellie had told her once, gazing admiringly on a leather jacket Emma had restored to suppleness. "I'd<em>never</em>have figured out how to do that!" Emma had shrugged, a bit embarrassed to admit how she'd learned about neatsfoot oil and its ability to keep leather like new. The lithe blonde co-ed sat cross-legged and stark-naked on the table, a leather riding crop in hand, oiling it lightly. This was a popular item; it would doubtless see use this weekend, probably on Emma herself, so its good maintenance was imperative. A growing array of freshly oiled whips, leather cuffs, gloves, boots, and other leather BDSM gear lay on the table next to her, the finished products of her afternoon's work.<br/><br/>By now the movements of her task were automatic; Emma cast her eyes around the dungeon as she worked. Each dangling rope, glinting set of metal cuffs, and locked cabinet full of debauched implements inspired fond memories. Since her enslavement two years ago, she'd spent innumerable nights down here, moaning in orgasm and bawling in pain, earning an education in the erotic from the Darlings and their guests. Whenever her friends gossiped about their sex lives, Emma gave a polite little smile and stayed quiet, unwilling (and unable, by her owners' orders) to reveal how she spent her time outside school. She'd developed a reputation for chastity as a result, which she found hilarious.<br/><br/>She put the whip down and picked up a leather corset. This would be a little trickier. She rubbed the oily cloth over its curves tenderly, imagining them fitting over Mistress' breasts. A little shiver of glee ran down her spine. Oh, Mistress looked so good in this. Emma loved both Master and Mistress and felt a deep affection for her fellow slaves, Kris and Lex, but it had been Mistress who had offered her a place in the house, and so Emma held a bit of extra loyalty in her heart for Harriet Darling, though since Mistress often submitted to Master it didn't matter much anyway. What a wonderful and terrifying night that had been, when she'd accepted - the long, sweet kiss from Mistress in the warm darkness of the gardens, then her presentation to Master, no longer as an employee (though she was still listed as such on tax returns and the like) but as a slave and a toy, then her first visit to the dungeon.<br/><br/>Emma clutched the corset to herself lovingly, looking around the room again. Master and Mistress had forged her sexuality here; they had loved her and hurt her, broken her and remade her. Tonight - this weekend - would be so much fun. Ah! The things they would do!<br/><br/>She shook her head. A good slave couldn't spend all her time daydreaming. She resumed her work with a passion.