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“Hey, Sara, get over here! Customer!”
Sara sighed. It had been only recently that she had moved to San Francisco from her small-time town in California , but she had a feeling that she would never really fit in. The different people, the atmosphere – it was proving to be all a little bit too much for this country girl. She looked over at her boss in her big, blue eyes. Mark was a great guy, if not a tad pushy during busy times. She did, however, feel safe with him – she knew for a fact he was gay, and therefore the awkwardness that usually existed with men and Sara was gone. And, with the way Sara looked, Mark was one of the few people in the store who wasn't drooling over her. Petite, with long blonde hair and quite large breasts – she was indeed a sight for sore eyes.
She walked over, rolling her eyes slightly. It was nearly 5pm – the end of her shift – and today had been a particularly long day. She rested on the desk and looked brightly at the woman in front of her.
“Yes Ma'am, how may I help you?”
The woman seemed quite quiet, her eyes never met Sara's. She looked around at the clothes with an air of confidence, her big red lips pouting arrogantly. She had been here every day this week, never buying anything, just looking. Sara had never heard her speak – she would often just leave with a grunt of disapproval. Sara hated these customers.
“Ma'am? Can I help?”
Instantly the woman looked into Sara's eyes, glaring. Sara was taken aback – she had not expected such an aggressive final customer of the day. She composed herself again and smiled.
“Is there anything that takes your fancy, Ma'am?”
The woman smiled weakly; her lips turning. “Yes, as a matter of fact, there is.” Her words seemed so cold and harsh compared to Sara's, making her feel uneasy. Why was she always left with the weird ones?
“I'm having dinner tonight at Dino's tonight, and I was wondering if you'd like to come along.”
Again the woman's words took her by surprise. She was used to getting dates of guys, but women? This was a new experience.
“Oh, no, sorry, I'm not a lesbian.” Sara tried to laugh it off, but she could feel the woman's stare cutting into her.
“I know. Come.” The woman had stopped smiling, and the offer had turned into an order. “7.30. I'll be expecting you.” And with that, the brunette walked out, her heels clicking on the marble floor. Sara watched her leave. What the hell just happened? She had started to sweat a little. She wasn't good in these circumstances, she knew it.
“Hey, Mark! Funny story…”
Mark was always in the mood for gossip. “Oh?”
“Yeah, I just got hit on by a customer.”
“Oh really? Was he cute?”
“Well, that's the thing. It wasn't a he, exactly…”
“Oh really?! Gosh, Sara, you're certainly attracting the oddballs. Did you let her down easy?”
“Well, not exactly. She seemed very insistent, y'know?”
Sara was really sweating now. She hadn't said no, and she had no way of contacting this woman to cancel. Dammit.
“Well, how do you know she was hitting on you? Maybe she's just bad with people, and she just wants you as a friend. You seem like an easily approachable person, anyway.”
Sara smiled at this. Of course that was what it was. She wasn't a lesbian – she had told the woman this. The woman just wanted a friend to come to dinner with her. Of course.
“So are you going to go?”
“Well, I don't have much choice. I can't cancel, and I'd hate to stand her up.”
She giggled slightly. She hadn't got any other plans for tonight, so this was a welcome surprise. Plus, in this big new city , she needed all the friends she could get. She said goodbye to Mark, and went back home to get changed for her night out.
7.35, and she was still in the taxi in traffic. Darn, I hope she's not one of those obsessive types, she thought as the rain came down the window of the taxi. She hated being late, but what with this being her first month in a new city , she was getting it a lot. She got out at Dino's, and walked in, noticing the brunette sitting on her table all alone. She pulled up a chair and giggled.
“Ooh, weather out there is awful, eh?”
The woman looked up at her angrily.
“You're late.”
Sara stood there for a second, taken aback by her tone. She really wasn't good with people.
“Well, only five minutes…”
“You're late.” Her eyes started to dig into her again, and she started to sweat.
“S-sorry.” She went to sit down, but the woman put up a hand to stop her.
“Did I say you could sit?”
“W…what?”
“Did I say you could sit?”
“No, but do I need permission?”
The brunette said nothing, just glared at her. After a moment, she nodded her head. “You may sit.” Sara sat down, shocked. What a bitch! Still, she was probably just nervous. First impressions are always the worst. The woman looked at her with those big brown eyes, and smiled.
“So, tell me. What's your name?”
“Sara. Yours?”
“Ms Davies.”
Sara laughed. “Have you a first name then?”
“You needn't know it.”
Sara rolled her eyes. There was something strange about this woman – still, it was a night out, something of a rarity for Sara these days.
“So, tell me about yourself, Ms Davies. What do you do for a living?”
Silence. Ms Davies just stared at Sara, making Sara shake slightly. Sara couldn't maintain eye contact any longer and looked at the floor to escape Ms Davies gaze. Ms Davies, with a slight smile, ignored her question and cast her eyes down at the menu.
“You shall have the duck, I believe. It's very good.”
Sara, not daring to look up in case of that terrifying stare, muffled a snort. How dare she be so arrogant to pick her meal? Still looking down, she opened her mouth to speak, only to be instantly interrupted by Ms Davies. “You will have the duck.” Her voice was less suggestive, ordering her.
“Yeah, OK. It looks good.” Sara tried to smile up at Ms Davies, but found herself powerless to do so. Her pouting lips and her fiery but harsh eyes made it so hard to disobey.
Ms Davies could certainly pick a meal. When the duck came, it looked delicious, and Sara was just picking up her knife and fork when Ms Davies stopped her.
“Did I say you could eat?”
“What?!” This was ridiculous! She turned to look up at Ms Davies (whose food had arrived some five minutes ago), and started to complain. “You can't tell me when I can and can't eat!”
Ms Davies flashed her another glare and moved in closer.
“Do as I say, Sara.”
She was unsure at what happened exactly, but Sara melted in front of this powerful, beautiful woman. She seemed to have control over her – control she couldn't explain.
“Yes Ms Davies.”
Ms Davies finished her meal and then allowed Sara to eat. Sara did not speak for the rest of the meal, confused at what was going on. This woman had been so rude to her! She had forbade her to sit down, to eat, refused to tell Sara her first name, hell, anything! But…but at the same time, Sara felt so powerless to stop her. She shivered as the bill came. She wanted to get out of here. This was freaking her out. She got up to leave, but yet again, Ms Davies managed to stop her.
“Come back to my place, Sara.”
Sara started to panic. What had she let herself in for? She could barely get the words out.
“N-n…No, I've got a busy shift tomorrow, and…”
“I don't care, Sara. Come back to my place.”
Sara hung her head. She had no idea how, but she was now heading to Ms Davies' flat. She was petrified that this woman had such power and control over her that she could make her do what ever she pleased. Sara just couldn't say no.
“Come in, Sara.”
Sara meekly walked into Ms Davies' apartment. Every part of her body was shaking – why was she here? Why couldn't she just leave? She considered running – Ms Davies wouldn't be able to do anything. The door slammed shut. No chance of that now.
“Sara, what did you notice about tonight?”
Sara's throat was dry. “I…I don't…”
“Let me put it another way. Who was the more…powerful tonight?” She smiled knowingly. Sara was trapped.
“I…”
“Who chose when you sat down, when you ate, what you ate, whether you came here…who chose what you should know and what you shouldn't?”
“…you, Ms Davies.”
“That's right. So then. Logically, who has all the power in this relationship?”
“You, Ms Davies.”
“Who then, logically, is the superior in this relationship?”
“You, Ms Davies.”
“And who…who is inferior?”
“M…me, Ms Davies.”
Ms Davies smiled. “I'm glad you're accepting it, Sara. The whole night, you seemed to think that we were on the same level. I'm…better than you, Sara. Don't you think so?”
Sara stood, stunned. “Y-yes Ms Davies.”
“Yes Ms Davies what?”
“Yes Ms Davies, you are better than me.”
“I am superior to you, Sara. You should be honoured to be in my house, in my lounge – you should be honoured to be in front of me. Kneel.”
“W-what?”
“Well, Sara. I am superior. You should do as I say, surely. Surely I needn't spell it out to you?”
Sara dropped to her knees. What was she doing?
“As an inferior being, you should always be on your knees when in front of me when we are alone, or when I say. At the drop of a hat, you should do what I say. For I am better than you, Sara. Remember that.”
“Yes…yes Ms Davies.”
“Hrm. I'm getting tired of Ms Davies. From now on, you will always call me Mistress.”
Oh god…oh god…Sara's mind was racing. What was going on?
“Yes Mistress.”
“And…and I will call you what I like, Sara. Anything at all.”
“Yes Mistress.”
Ms Davies smiled, looking down at her victim. “When I address you, you shall answer “Yes Mistress”. Is that clear?”
“Yes Mistress.”
Ms Davies laughed slightly. “Is that clear, whore?”
“Yes Mistress.”
“Bitch.”
“Yes Mistress.”
“Slut.”
“Yes Mistress.” Sara's humiliation was never ending, it seemed. She shed a tear. What had she become?
“Strip, whore.”
“What?” Despite her treatment, Sara had not been expecting anything like this. Surely she had enough good inside her to see she had broken Sara, and anything more would just be cruel?
“I said strip, whore!” A hard slap across the face reduced Sara to tears. “I don't like hitting sluts, Sara. I like it when they do exactly as I say the first time.”
“W…why do I need to strip, Mistress?” Sara was clutching at straws – it had all been so rapid, her transformation into a sub-human, that she hadn't had time to realise that Ms Davies didn't need a reason.
“Don't you ever listen, slut? If I want it, I get it. Whatever I ask for, you do. Now don't fucking doubt me again!” With that she slapped Sara again, producing blood to trickle down her lip. “Are you going to do as I say, Sara? Hrm?”
She wiped away her tears. She felt so worthless, so pathetic. “Yes Mistress.” She got off her knees and took off her blouse, sobbing as she did so. Why was she doing this? Ms Davies hadn't held her at gunpoint, she was, in fact, free to do as she wished really. But Ms Davies had such power. Her height of 6ft dwarfed Sara, and whilst her breasts were slightly smaller than Sara's, her lips and eyes made Sara feel like nothing – as if she was a mere mortal in front of a goddess. Her nipples began to harden, and her heart beat faster – oh, God, she wasn't starting to enjoy this, was she?
Sara stood in front of Ms Davies in just a bra and panties, tears streaming down her face. Her nipples started to poke through, and her pussy was starting to go moist. Ms Davies looked at her coldly.
“All of it, slut.”
Sara whimpered again, and started to unhook her bra, revealing her large breasts. Ms Davies raised her eyebrows – round and plump, with hard, bullet nipples – she was stunning. Sara lowered her panties, still sobbing, and stood before Ms Davies, shaved and beautiful. Sara automatically went to cover up her breasts and pussy, but Ms Davies tutted as she got up.
“Hands behind head, girl. Legs apart, eyes lowered.” Ms Davies walked around her new toy, smiling cruelly as Sara quietly cried. “Shut up, slut. Good girls don't cry. They listen to their Mistress and they do as they say.”
“Yes Mistress. Sorry Mistress.” Sara had given in – this woman, who just hours ago had been nothing more than a customer, had complete control of her. Whatever she desired, Sara felt she had to do. She sniffed, trying to stop the tears of humiliation as Ms Davies inspected her body. She prodded her with a cane, murmuring approvingly as Sara twitched. She stroked her breast, looking over her like a piece of meat.
“Very nice indeed, girl.” She suddenly grabbed Sara's breasts, pulling them, and smiled as Sara's face scrunched up in pain. Sara gasped as she let go, and bit her lip as Ms Davies smiled at her. “Is that good, slut?” All Sara could muster was a nod and a moan, and at this Ms Davies laughed. “Is my little whore enjoying this? Do you like the feel of a real woman touching you?” Again Sara moaned. She had no idea what was happening, but this pain felt good. It felt incredible.
In a flash, Ms Davies was behind her. “Bend for me, slut.” Wilfully, Sara bent over, thrusting her ass into the air. Her heart was racing. She didn't know how, but she loved this woman using her and controlling her, yet at the same time hated herself for doing this. But…she loved being her bitch. “I said legs apart! Are you deaf, bitch?” She whipped her legs, and instantly Sara's confusion about conflicting emotions didn't matter. She had to do as Ms Davies said. Now. She quickly spread her legs wider than she had before, revealing her pussy to her Mistress. Ms Davies smiled and bent down, placing her mouth beside Sara's ear.
“Good girl. Now, we're going to play a game. Every time I hit you with my cane” – at this point she dangled a cane in front of Sara's eyes, making her quiver even more – “you will count along and say “Thank you Mistress”. If you stop counting or forget to thank me, we'll start again. Your aim is to get to fifteen. My aim is to stop you. If you win…you'll get a treat. If I win...” She laughed as she snapped the cane down next to Sara “…you'll get something else. Is that clear, slut?”
“Yes Mistress.” Sara bit her lip again – she'd never been caned before as a girl – or as an adult for that matter. The worst pain she ever got from sex was hitting her head on the top of the bed – this was something totally different.
Thwack. And fucking hell, it hurt. Sara jumped out of her skin as the cane smashed down – she let out a loud cry, her ass on fire. Ms Davies smiled. “Oh dear, slut! You forgot to count, it seems. Or thank me for that matter. Let's start again, shall we – and this time, try to get it right?”
Thwack. Jesus, she felt the cane making its mark on her round ass and she felt the pain shoot through her body – she automatically went to cover up her butt but felt the cane strike there too. “Oi! Stop that, bitch! Who said you could move your hands there? Hrm?” Ms Davies roughly grabbed Sara's hands and tied them together with a piece of rope. “Now then. I hope I don't have to do that again, bitch. And you still didn't thank me for beating you! Stupid whore!” This time Ms Davies smashed down on Sara's poor reddening ass with more venom than before. She was furious and Sara knew she better do as she said.
“Oww! One, thank you Mistress!” Thwack. “Oh, god! Two, thank you Mistress!” Thwack. “OwwwwW! Three…thank you Mistress!” She felt her ass burning up – the pain was unbearable – she tried to move her hands again to stop it but couldn't break through the rope. She started to sob again, and at this Ms Davies stopped and moved next to her slut.
“Aww. Is Sara not enjoying this?” Sara nodded her head. In a way she was – she liked to feeling of doing what her Mistress said – but this pain hurt so much. Perhaps Ms Davies had some sympathy in her, she tutted and looked at Sara. “Well, if that's the case – if you really don't like being beaten…” She looked at Sara sympathetically, brushing away her hair. A sudden smack across the face took away any belief that Ms Davies had any mercy. “Who said you could fucking choose? Huh? Who's the one with the power, bitch?”
“You are Mistress.”
“And therefore who does everything I say? Huh?”
“I do.”
“And why is that, cunt?”
Sara looked down at the floor and accepted her position. “Because I am inferior.”
“Exactly. Now I don't want any more fucking complaining, you hear?”
Sara nodded, and instantly Ms Davies ran back behind Sara again and started beating her again, Sara quietly sobbing whilst counting along and thanking her Mistress. Finally, after Sara screamed “Fifteen! Thank you Mistress!”, Ms Davies rubbed the welts on Sara's ass and laughed.
“Hurt, bitch?” Sara just nodded, all her energy gone. She had been degraded and humiliated in one night – she started it as a respectable woman in a new city , and ended it as a sub human. Nothing. She wept as Ms Davies walked in front of her, untied her wrists and smiled.
“Now, Sara. Have you had fun tonight, girl?”
She couldn't explain it. She was nothing, but she loved it. She was a whore, a bitch, a cunt, a slut, a tramp – she was everything dirty and nothing clean…and she loved it. Sara nodded, but reluctantly. She didn't want to admit it so thoroughly just yet though.
“That's good, slut. Now tomorrow I will be dining at Dino's again. 7.30. You will be there. I don't care if you have other plans. And you'll wear something a little skimpier than you did tonight. A skirt, with no panties, and a blouse with no bra. Is that clear?”
Sara nodded again. She controlled every other part of her life, it seemed, why not her dress?
“Good girl. Now crawl to the door, I'll let you out.”
Sara looked at her, shocked. Go out into the hall naked? Anyone could see her! That seemed a bit much. She looked up at Ms Davies pleadingly, too tired to speak.
“Don't worry, slut. You'll get used to changing in front of people you don't know. You'll also get used to being naked more often than not.” Ms Davies walked to the door, pulling Sara by the hair. “Come on, out you go, bitch!” She opened the door, with Sara now begging feverishly for her not to, and tossed her out into the hall. Sara sat naked in the hall for a couple of seconds, before Ms Davies threw some clothes at her. “Oh, I'm keeping your bra and panties, by the way, Sara. You won't need them.” She laughed wickedly and closed the door, leaving Sara to get dressed quickly before anyone saw her – in vain, as it turned out – three men managed to see Sara completely naked as they walked out of their apartment. Sara blushed – but secretly she loved the exposure. She loved being dirty, being used, being forced to do what anybody wished – just being someone's little whore, little tramp, little slut. She smiled as she put on her top and walked away. Better get used to that, I suppose, she thought as she giggled to herself.
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