Sara and Ms Davies

The next day at work, Sara could barely concentrate. Her mind wondered as she rubbed her ass – it still hurt to sit down, so she had to avoid it as much as possible. Every time her hand ran across her backside she would remember how she felt as Ms Davies whacked the cane down across her ass, and how she would laugh as Sara cried out in pain. She was getting wet just thinking about it – she bit her lip and thought more about what Ms Davies had said. She was superior in every way to Sara. Something about that made Sara feel excited – she had no idea what. Usually she would be offended by such rude behaviour, but when Ms Davies said it – instantly she had to do what she said, accept her words as gospel. She felt compelled to – and she had no idea why. Being forced to do things she didn't want to was – bizarrely – a turn on. She was repelled by the idea of going out or kissing a woman. Sex needed a man in order for it to be enjoyable, she would often say. She had, in old relationships, thought about having another woman in there as well, but only if a man was there. She had nothing against lesbians, she just didn't want to be one. And yet, she found herself being ordered to perform sexual acts by this woman. And she loved it. It was all so confusing. Perhaps tonight Ms Davies would explain the situation more. Perhaps she would let Sara in on this strange phenomenon – this thing she couldn't explain. This thing that made her feel like an utter slut, and absolutely love it. Her mind didn't want to be a slut – she wanted to be an ordinary person, living life – not some two-bit whore…but then…but then her body wanted to give itself up to Ms Davies – she wanted Ms Davies to do whatever she wanted to her. Beat her, tie her, rape her, use her – everything and anything. It was too confusing – she started to sweat as she thought over it more. Her hand started to reach down to her clit as she gasped…

“Sara?” Fuck! She took her hand away instantly and sweetly walked up to Mark.

“Yes?” At times she really hated Mark – especially when he told her to look after customers when she was about start masturbating. Although, to be fair to Mark, this didn't happen often.

“Are you OK? We're going to close up the shop – it's just gone 6.30. Usually you're out of the door in a flash.”

“Oh, it's nothing, Mark. Seriously. Absolutely nothing.” She said this in such a way that Mark instantly knew that this was something.

“What is it? Come on, Sara, you can tell me. Problems at home?” Considering she lived alone, she thought this was a particularly stupid question. “Money problems? Family trouble? Problems in love?” Instantly Sara's face went bright beetroot. Damn. Given herself away.

“Fine. Mark, you remember yesterday, I decided to go with that woman to that restaurant?” Mark nodded. He was obviously captivated. “The whole evening was really weird. She treated me like a child – no, worse – like something sub human. She didn't let me know her first name, she chose what I had to eat, she even told me when to sit down. Then, she ordered that I should go to her house! Of all the nerve!”

“So you just refused?” Sara blushed again. This was going to be awkward.

“Urm…not exactly. That's the thing. She had this sort of power. She made me feel inferior. It was…weird. Really weird.” Mark was nodding away, not surprised by this in the slightest. Sara found this bizarre. What kind of man accepts this as normal?

“Then what happened?” Mark was really getting into the story now. Sara was starting to wish it ended in a different way – she wasn't quite ready to admit that she was stripped and beaten by a lesbian to her boss.

“Then…then she ordered that I knelt before her…and…” She broke down. She couldn't admit this to Mark! He'd think she was just a common whore and fire her on the spot!

“…she ordered that you strip?” Mark said these words so casually, you'd think he came across them every day. Sara gasped slightly, taken aback. She slowly nodded, and Mark sighed. “Yep, it's always the same. Shall I tell you what's happened, Sara?” Sara nodded again. “This woman's into kinky sex. She's into S and M and all that. It's not a problem for some people, I just wouldn't think you'd be into that sort of thing. They hang out in this area, looking for people who they think would like to become their slaves.” Sara's eyes widened. Slave? Being a whore or a slut was one thing, but a slave? Jesus, what had she let herself in for?

“S-slave? As in...” Mark interrupted her immediately.

“Let me tell you a story. An ex of mine, John, met this guy on the internet who was into this sort of thing. They had a fun couple of dates – the guy did almost exactly the same thing as this woman did to you on the first date – and one month later, this guy had forced John to give him all his worldly possessions and do exactly as he says. John signed a contract and became a slave. He's still in that guy's basement, being used and beaten up every day.”

“Does he…enjoy it?” Mark laughed in Sara's face.

“Does he enjoy it?! He hates it! He was just looking for some fun, but this guy has him tied up in his basement and rapes him whenever he wants! And it's all legal. He signed a contract, he gave everything to this guy, and now there's no way out.”

Sara trembled in her seat. What if…what if exactly the same thing happened to her? I mean, she could try to control herself, but Ms Davies had such power over her, she could soon be signing her life away! She could soon be tied up in Ms Davies closet, used whenever Ms Davies saw fit, and fed on scraps of food! No-one would hear her cries for help, as she'd be trapped. Forever. She shuddered. She had to break it off with Ms Davies, before anything else happened.

 

7.32. Again, late. But this time, Sara didn't care. She had dressed in her frumpiest attire, wearing exactly the opposite of what Ms Davies had ordered. She stormed into the restaurant and sat down opposite Ms Davies. She mustered up all of her pride and courage, and angrily spoke.

“Right. I don't know what you think you're doing, but I'm not going to stand for it, you hear? I'm a respectable woman! I'm not inferior to you, I'm not your bitch, your whore, your slut! I'm Sara, and I demand respect from you! You can't turn me into your slave – I don't want to be a part of your kinky sex any longer!” She stopped, breathless, looking up at Ms Davies, who had been reading the menu all this time.

“You're late again, Sara.” Sara was outraged. She'd just poured out her entire soul, using a great deal of courage and anger, and this woman pretended that she hadn't heard any of it.

“Yes, I'm fucking late, and I don't expect it to bother you! I'm a respectable woma…” Ms Davies put her hand up and silenced her. She looked up from her menu, and straight into the eyes of Sara. Again, like the first night, she felt herself melting away. Oh, Christ.

“Sara, when you were a child, did you rebel at all? Did you cry if you didn't get your way? Or did you accept it, like a good girl?” Sara was shocked. What a totally random set of questions! She thought about it.

“I…I did as I was told. I accepted it. But I really don't…” Again the hand came up and silenced her.

“So you were brought up following orders. Being ordered around. You didn't rebel or try to get your own way. You just accepted people's wishes.” Sara nodded reluctantly. Ms Davies smiled. “You were born to be submissive, Sara. You were born to follow orders, to be forced to do things that you didn't want to do – you were born to be a little inferior slut. There are millions of people out there who need to be told what to do - who need to be dominated , but aren't. They aren't because they don't want to admit it. Now Sara, you should admit it. You need to be dominated. You need to feel the boot of someone on your ass. You need to be someone's little fucktoy. You need to be a whore, a tramp, a bitch. You need to be bossed about, because, simply put, Sara…you were born to be one. And I was born to be a Mistress. I disobeyed, I wanted people to do what I wanted. That's how I liked it. And you want people to tell you what to do. It's a perfect match, Sara. What do you say?”

Sara was stunned. This was it. She could either walk away, and not admit to what was driving her wild – or she could stay. Stay and fulfil her destiny as a whore. She slowly opened her mouth to speak.

“Yes Mistress. It is a perfect match.” She bit her lip as she said these words, and lowered her eyes. Ms Davies smiled weakly.

“Good whore. Now, the second thing I must address – I asked for skimpier, not less. You're wearing my grandmother's clothes, whore. Come with me to the bathroom. Let's see if we can't sort that problem out.” Ms Davies got up from her seat and beckoned Sara to follow. She walked, her eyes lowered, looking at the floor. She started to get wet again. She smiled. Ms Davies didn't seem that annoyed – perhaps being Ms Davies' bitch wouldn't be that demanding at all. Ms Davies walked into the ladies room, holding the door open for Sara. As soon as the door shut, the mood changed. Dramatically.

“Right. Let's set out some rules, slut – and see how many you've broken.” Ms Davies grabbed Sara's hair and threw her to the floor. Her eyes were glowing with fury – Sara whimpered. She was in for it now. “Number one. You shall always address me as Mistress. You didn't do that at the start of the meal, did you? Did you?!” Sara just shook her head meekly. “Number two. You will only speak when I give you permission. You certainly didn't do that – how dare you speak to me in such a fashion! A fucking whore like you? Number three – you will sit when I tell you to…you didn't do that…number four, you will come to the restaurant at the correct time…number five, you will wear the correct clothes to a meal…” The list went on, humiliating Sara more and more. Thankfully no-one came in to see her in this state – being berated by this woman! Sara started to cry as Ms Davies snarled out more broken rules.

“Oh, is my slut upset? Is she unhappy that she is being treated like the inferior whore that she is? Hrm? Is that it, bitch?” Sara turned away, unable to look her Mistress in the eye. Instantly she felt the sting of her Mistress' hand against her face. “Look at me when I am talking to you, bitch! Now…I think you're wearing a little bit too much tonight, slut. Especially when I told you to come without bra and panties. Take off the jumper. Now.” Sara lifted the jumper up over her head – she cried out as the cane smacked her stomach as soon as it was exposed. “Faster, slut! Take off your skirt too.” Sara looked at her as she placed her jumper on the floor. Surely she wouldn't degrade her here, in a public toilet? Again she felt the cane across her midriff and she instantly started to lower her skirt – and within a matter of moments, her blouse cast aside as well, she was wearing nothing but bra and panties. She went to cover herself up again – force of habit – and the cane snapped down across her arms. “Don't do that again, bitch. You're already on thin ice as it is. Don't let it get any thinner. Drop to your hands and knees and crawl to me.” Sara yet again felt totally degraded. How did she have such power over her? She felt so helpless now – so submissive, willing to submit to any request that this dominant, brooding woman wanted. She fell to the floor and crawled to her Mistress, her eyes lowered. She didn't want to risk getting Ms Davies angry again.

“Good whore. You're starting to learn your place. Very slowly mind. We'll have to do something about that later.” She dangled her heels in front of Sara, in an almost hypnotic fashion. “My shoes. They're looking very dirty, aren't they, girl?” All Sara could do was nod. She had promised herself that she wouldn't let Ms Davies dominate her again – but it felt so good! She loved being a bitch, she adored it – but at the same time…she was so confused. “Now then, slut, what can we do to clean my shoes?” Sara opened her mouth to speak, but found it was dry. She had lost all of her confidence – her confidence she had shown so flawlessly just minutes ago. She moved to get a cloth to clean her Mistress' shoes, but Ms Davies grabbed her hair, pulling her back, and causing a yelping noise. “No, slut! I was thinking of a different way. You have a tongue. Lick them.” Sara looked up at her Mistress, shocked. Lick her shoes – was she mad? She was repelled at this, and hesitated.

“Oh dear! It looks like you've decided not to obey me again, slut! Well then…” Instantly Ms Davies grabbed Sara's hair and pulled her closer to her shoe, forcing her mouth to take in the toe. “Suck it, bitch. Come on. Suck my shoe clean.” Sara started to choke – she couldn't believe it…she was half-naked in a restaurant bathroom being forced to lick the shoes of someone she met yesterday! She licked and sucked as Ms Davies laughed.

“Come on, bitch! You can do better than that, can't you? Take it all in!” She thrust the shoe into the back of her throat, choking Sara. Sara struggled for air as she tried to get the shoe out of her mouth. She could see her Mistress shrieking with laughter as she struggled to breathe. Her life was in Ms Davies' hands, and all she could do was laugh at her?! She prayed that soon this would be over – she felt so helpless as Ms Davies' foot played about in her mouth. The shoe, at last, was removed from her foot, leaving Sara on her hands and knees, breathing heavily as Ms Davies laughed at her and inspected her handy work. “Not a spot on it. Good work, whore. I should get you to clean all of my shoes.” Sara stared up at her, totally humiliated, coughing harshly. Just as she tried to regain her composure, a woman walked into the bathroom.

“Oh! I'm…erm…terribly sorry. I'll just go, shall I?” The woman seemed distressed at seeing a half-naked woman in front of her, on her knees. Ms Davies couldn't think why.

“No, please, my dear…stay! I can offer you a free shoe polish.” She smiled wickedly at Sara as she said this. “Sorry, dear, what is your name?” The woman, obviously taken aback, struggled for words.

“K-karen.”

“Excellent. Karen, this is my slut. She's supposed to do everything I say, but today has been particularly bad. I'm giving her punishment for her disobedience – she has to lick people's shoes. I was wondering – your shoes seem a little muddy. Would you like them cleaned?” Karen laughed.

“You're kidding, right? Is this a joke?” Ms Davies seemed slightly annoyed that she was taking her offer in this manner.

“Not a joke, Karen. Just place your foot in front of this little whore, and she'll lick them clean.” Karen hesitated, as this bizarre situation slowly started to dawn on her. She smiled and thrust her foot forward.

“Oh, what the hey. Please can you lick my shoes…” She looked over at Ms Davies, hoping to be prompted for Sara's name. Ms Davies looked down at the boot-cleaner and smiled.

“Oh, call her whatever you like, Karen. She doesn't deserve better. Isn't that right, slut?” Sara nodded slowly, hating the situation she was in. Sure, she loved being a whore, but this was ridiculous. “Also, Karen, be a sweetie – don't say “please” or “thank you”. She's just a little tramp. She can't appreciate that sort of thing. And order her to lick your shoes. She doesn't understand questions very well.” Sara glared up at Ms Davies – and then instantly regretted it, seeing the ice cold eyes staring back at her.

“Oh, alright. Lick my shoes…you…erm…” Karen struggled for words. She seemed a little bit drunk. “Lick my shoes you…whore!” She said this triumphantly, much to the delight of Ms Davies, and much to the distaste of the degraded Sara. She slowly moved forward and placed her tongue out to start licking Karen's shoes. Karen laughed as Sara groaned at tasting mud – where had this girl been? Her shoes were filthy! She continued licking, every once in a while stopping at the horrible taste – every time she did this, Ms Davies would shout out “Keep licking, bitch!” or “Get that tongue back on that shoe, you fucking piece of shit!” – she would usually laugh as Sara submitted and started to lick again – encouraging Karen to hiss drunken abuse at her. “Yeah, you slut! You little bitch! You worthless tramp!” Each insult made Sara feel more and more humiliated – more like a little slut. Again, like the night before, she began to wonder what was stopping her from getting up and walking out. Ms Davies and now, it seemed, Karen, had this power over her – they had this control over her. When she thought about it, she hated being called a bitch, or a whore – but at the time, she loved it. She loved being forced by these women to do exactly as they pleased – she almost enjoyed the taste of mud, because she was being controlled by these women. She couldn't explain it – she loved being called these things, but at the same time hated it.

Ms Davies put her hand out to stop her slut from licking any more. Karen looked down at her shoes and smiled. “Man, that's great! Real professional! Thanks, bitch!” She giggled as she walked out, leaving Sara and Ms Davies in total silence. After a couple of seconds, Sara looked up at Ms Davies and went for her clothes. Again the hand came out to stop her – this time to smack her on the ass.

“What do you think you're doing?” Sara couldn't speak – partly because she was terrified, and partly because she had used up all her saliva in licking Karen's shoes clean. “Answer me, bitch!”

“I…I was going to get my clothes, Mistress.” She croaked these words out, much to the amusement of Ms Davies.

“It's funny, girl. I don't remember ever telling you to put your clothes back on.” She started to smile wickedly again as Sara realised what she was saying.

“But…Mistress…I can't go out into that restaurant dressed like this!”

“I think you can. Plus, you seemed so fond of wearing a bra and panties – despite my expressed wishes – that I thought you wouldn't mind.” She laughed as she pulled her hair towards the door, forcing Sara to crawl with her. “Out we go, slut!” She walked out confidently, dragging Sara, half naked, to many gasps of shock. Women were outraged, men were aroused but pretended to be outraged – children saw just seconds before parents covered their eyes up. Ms Davies, as casually as normal, sat down in her chair, before looking down at Sara, who was on the floor, blushing.

“You may sit, slut.” Sara sheepishly sat down, wearing next to nothing and wishing that she had never come to the restaurant tonight but also, bizarrely, that Ms Davies asked her to do more degrading things. She had never been so aroused or embarrassed – and Ms Davies could tell. The evening continued as normal – Ms Davies told Sara what to eat and drink, and only allowed her to speak when she wanted. The rest of the restaurant, having gotten over their initial shock, either went about their business, or complained to the manager of the place. As the main course arrived, the manager walked over angrily and started shouting at Sara.

“How dare you come in here dressed in such disgusting and revealing clothes?! This is a family restaurant – we expect only decently dressed people! If I had known that you were planning to perform this striptease, I would have barred you from the start! Get out, you filthy tramp!” Sara sat stunned at this verbal tirade, and opened her mouth to speak – only to be interrupted by Ms Davies.

“I'm terribly sorry, we didn't know of the dress code before we came in. My slut is awfully sorry, and she'd like to make it up to you.” She smiled wickedly again, and beckoned the manager over. She leaned over and whispered something in his ear – making him smile.

“I'm sorry to have bothered you fine women. Please. Carry on with your meal.” Sara was totally and utterly confused, and went to ask what had just happened – but again was stopped by Ms Davies.

“Never mind about that, bitch. Just enjoy your food.” Ms Davies smiled, and looked down at Sara's breasts – her nipples were starting to harden. “Hrm, slut. It must be very cold in here.” She laughed as Sara blushed even more – at least she hadn't noticed her cunt yet – she was so wet that her panties were now basically transparent. She sighed and continued to eat.

Ms Davies paid the bill and looked over at Sara, who was now bright red as more people started to stare at her. “Come on, bitch. Let's go.” Sara went to walk out, but Ms Davies laughed cruelly. “Crawl, whore. Remember your status.” Sara dropped to her knees and crawled out – on the verge of tears as people grumbled and complained about her – she could hear them talking: every single one of them called her a two-bit prostitute, or a slapper, or a whore, or a tramp – she felt utterly degraded. But then, in the back of her mind – and in her heart – she felt this urge to obey and to be treated in this way. She followed Ms Davies out, and expected to get into the cab. Instead, Ms Davies led her around – behind the restaurant, to a dark alley. Sara opened her mouth to speak.

“Urm…Mistress? What's going on?” Her answer was a slap to the face.

“Did I give you permission to speak, you tramp?” Sara shook her head. She started to get worried. “OK, Sara. Take off your bra and panties.” More humiliation?! Naked, in public? Surely not! Again, a slap greeted her, this time producing a little bit of blood. Sara started to break down into tears as Ms Davies snarled to her. “Don't hesitate, you little bitch! Just do it!” Sobbing, Sara took off her bra and panties, and knelt, fully naked, in front of her Mistress. “Excellent, whore.”

“Mistress…what's happening?” Sara should have known not to speak there – Ms Davies grabbed her hair and pulled her face close to Sara's.

“Don't ask questions, girl! How many times do I have to tell you this?!” Again, a slap – this time on the ass – made Sara keep silent, but for the occasional sob. She was being broken again. “Ah ha, here's our man.” Ms Davies cracked a small smile, as the manager walked out of the restaurant and towards Sara and Ms Davies.

“Is she ready?” The manager leered at her, looking down at her.

“Of course. Well, apart from the handcuffs.” Ms Davies jumped down and handcuffed Sara's hands to her feet, meaning that she was stuck in this kneeling position. Sara started to panic. There was no way out.

“Good, good.” The manager slowly undid his flies and snarled at Sara. “Remember me letting you wear your trampish clothes? It comes at a cost, bitch!” He took out his cock – now fully erect – and pointed it into the face of Sara, who was now shrieking with fear. She was going to get raped by a man! This was it! She was going to be used and abused by someone she didn't know and didn't like! She started to scream, only for Ms Davies to slap her again.

“Shut up! This man was very kind for not throwing us out! You will accept what he wants! And what he wants…well…” Ms Davies smiled as the manager licked his lips. “What he wants is for you to open your mouth.” Sara looked up at her horrified. How could she do this? The manager grew impatient, and started to shout at Sara – she couldn't hear him, she was so immersed in fear. Ms Davies saw this, and knelt down to whisper in Sara's ear.

“Just remember my slut. What's your position? Who's inferior?” Sara, now crying, turned to her Mistress.

“M-me, Mistress.”

“And who is superior?”
“You, Mistress.”

“Whose orders must you obey fully?”

“Yours, Mistress…”

“Who have you submitted to totally?”

“…you, Mistress.”

“Good girl. Remember your place. Remember what you were born to be. A little bitch.” Sara started to moan – she was getting even wetter. She revelled in being called that now. “So…my whore. Submit. Do as I say. Open…your fucking…mouth!”

Instantly Sara opened her mouth. She couldn't resist her Mistress any longer – and instantly the manager thrust his cock into her mouth, throat-fucking her. She could feel it ramming the back of her throat, making her feel sick – but she knew she could do nothing. Even if she were uncuffed, even if she were ten times stronger than the manager and Ms Davies put together – she knew that Ms Davies had such a power over her. She could do nothing. And, in a way, she liked it that way. The man continued to brutally thrust his penis into her mouth – she tried to suck it as best she could, but found his actions so fast that she couldn't do anything. He continued to pump her throat, faster and faster, before screaming as he climaxed. He slowed down as he came – Sara could feel the hot cum on the back of her throat and choked.

“Swallow it, bitch. Drink it all up.” The manager laughed as he put his cock away and watched as Sara reluctantly swallowed. Ms Davies looked down at Sara, and patronisingly stroked her hair.

“Now what do we say to the nice man, bitch?”

“Thank you, Sir.” Sara lowered her eyes as she said this – she had no idea why. She just knew these people were superior, and that she probably shouldn't be looking at them. She let Ms Davies and the manager talk, before looking up at her Mistress as she came back and uncuffed her feet and hands. Ms Davies walked in front of her, and placed her foot in front of her mouth.

“Kiss it.” Sara had no choice – she reluctantly kissed it and knelt, totally naked, in front of Ms Davies. “Well then, slut. That was fun, wasn't it?” Sara nodded enthusiastically. She had never been more turned on. “Good, good. Tomorrow, I want you at my flat, by 7.30pm . Naked. Is that clear?” Sara looked down at herself – being naked wasn't anything new, she supposed. She nodded, and Ms Davies smiled. “Very good.” She threw Sara's bra and panties at her, and laughed again. “This is all you've got to walk home in, I'm afraid. I'm sure you'll manage, bitch.” Sara quickly got changed as Ms Davies walked away slowly, towards the cab. Just as she was getting in, she turned and called out to Sara.

“Oh, and don't be late. I can allow mistakes twice. Anymore, and you will be very, very sorry, whore. You hear?” Sara nodded again, still topless. Ms Davies chuckled as she got into the cab and drove away, leaving Sara again totally exposed. Sara started her long walk home in just her bra and panties, being as nonchalant as possible. She got odd looks from two women, and whistles from a gang of boys. Every humiliating thing that happened that night had just her more and more horny – she wanted to submit more and more. In fact, as she reached her house, five men across the street started to compliment her drunkenly on her womanly features – and then went on to ask how much for a blowjob. And, as Sara smiled to herself and considered turning around and whoring herself out, she knew she had made her transition from respectable woman to total tramp. And she couldn't have been happier.