Slave Sharon

 

CHAP 1

 

Here I was, a sexually attractive female who had naively allowed herself to be striped of everything and was finding many reasons to feel ashamed of the loathsome things which I now did while groveling at the feet of another woman. My intrepid infatuation had come with a somewhat unpretentious and rather carefree understanding of how truly submissive I could be made to be. Our relationship started innocently enough, the very casual although sensual neck and shoulder massages in her office which soon lead to other more exciting and daring endeavors later, my first real passionate girl kissing, long nights and weekends spent cuddling under the covers in her warm comforting embrace, and the really hot sex that I had in tight restraints or restricting bondage gear while completely under her total control. This was the dream that I truly wanted and had been willingly to give up everything for.

 

It was just a few weeks after moving in though, that she started making some very plausible blackmailing threats. My deepest dream filled inhibitions soon came crashing into reality as it seemed almost impossible to refuse any of her more insistent demands and I became faced with the daily humiliation of having to act like some kind of nymph-phobic exhibitionist. The tight fitting clothes and indecent outfits that she makes me wear now have turned my days into a never ending source of embarrassment, (when I am not being degraded in other ways). They are exceedingly less conservative to say the least and have been the ones which now totally dominate my wardrobe. All of my former belongings have been prudently discarded and replaced with items that now easily personify me as, (to put it in a much less humiliating way) lusciously provoking.

 

What has also been an even greater form of humiliation, (when not dressed as this shamefully sexy middle aged woman) is my initial misguided wish-filled fantasy of becoming Heather’s full time slave girl. This alone at the start would have easily made me die of true shame if any of her other more carefully picked office staff ever found out.

 

These four now more sophisticatedly dressed ladies were all very well practiced lesbian couples and had been at the beginning unannounced to me. I should have been grateful for this at first, even while dressed as the companies habitually talked about office slut behind my back, and the very questionable personal assistant to our young blonde female owner and company head. I had felt presumptuously safe while hidden from all they’re curiously accusing eyes while bound and naked inside the walls of a seemingly quiet semi-rural home.

 

None of them (I had thought) would ever see me so shockingly submissive while licking feverishly at this beautiful young blonde’s succulently pink cunt. She, (a.k.a. Miss. Heather Lash) had become my true to life Mistress, something which I at one time desperately longed for. At twenty-nine she, (being eight years my junior) was extremely well versed in the art of fem/fem domination and had become thoroughly equipped after spending several years as a bondage model (the starting root of her more then successful business). She discovered my questionable desires and in only a few short weeks could see that I wanted to belong to a woman like her, but my mischievously granted wish came at a high price.

 

Her sexual slave training for me began almost immediately and became very intense after she bought a rustic old house in a nice secluded area with money I legally gave her from the prior sale of my own. Hence forth from that day on and with the many other strictly instituted stipulations, I have been outwardly reinvented and now suitably employed as her non-compensated pseudo office assistant to show that I now belong to her totally, heart, body and soul. She, as my Mistress, and the company’s impeccable business superior, considers me to be her personal property; though she has made me into a party favor many times for any of her younger dike-ish girlfriends.

 

Still, as a manipulative business woman’s very persuadable sex toy and slave, I have been forced to swallow any remaining pride and now shamefully accept my new life with its daily mix of domination, hard core lesbianism, sexual slavery and servitude. My current financial dependency (as she readily intended) has greatly added to this basis and is among the more embarrassing reason for my continued Dom/slave relationship.                                                

 

“I… That is, ‘slave Sharon’, a shameless lezzy cunt slave, is most undeserving the privilege of even ass licking such a beautiful Mistress like Miss. Lash, and should be eternally grateful for the honor of being allowed to tongue her pretty pink pussy. In addition, slave Sharon, as the pathetic and worthless cunt servant, will deserve nothing better then to receive a viscous anal fucking with a stiff plastic punishment dildo if Mistress Lash is EVER displeased for any reason.”

 

This has become a very pointed reminder whenever I have been drug off by the hair into her bedroom. Usually my bare bottom is slapped repeatedly to hurry me along as I try to crawl quickly up the stars on my hand and knees.

 

Much more tragically tonight however, I have been late in finishing all my assigned errands after work and have also forgotten to pick-up her dry-cleaning. I have never willingly given her reason to discipline me, but the subtle exception to her demeanor has been made readily clear and my punishment for this evening has only just begun. Usually when I unwittingly misbehave or have displeased Mistress while serving some of her more frequent lady guests, I have been put hastily over her lap on most of these occasions and spanked soundly on my bare bottom and extremely sensitive wet dripping pussy.

 

Aside from these seemingly catastrophic failures at being a good maid servant, I also knowingly deal with the problem of being overly stimulated now on a daily basis (if not through more insidious means) while typing at my less then ideal work station. I had hoped that this weekend would have been spent pleasing my Mistress and doing the mundane chores she requires of me, even while catering submissively to her ever demand or timidly obedient to her punishing desirers. Sadly though after arriving home, things quickly changed and soon became nothing less then positively heartbreaking for me.

 

I had walked in to find the perfectly dressed office image of my Mistress sitting in the living room with one leg bouncing impatiently over the other. When Mistress Heather stopped to look in my direction, she poised herself more seductively as if I were her prey and waited for me expectantly, right after she inquired.

 

“Where are the rest of my things?”

 

After setting the two shopping bags down in the arched entrance way, I quickly indulged her with my timid answer.

 

“I… I’m sorry Mistress; I was running late and completely forgot to go by the cleaners.”

 

Our excepted lifestyle and my sexual submission to her while at home had been perfectly understood from the outset, so there was little else for me to do except hurry in to greet her properly by stripping out of my clothes immediately. Leaving the scattered pile of garments to one side of her chair, I dropped down to my knees in front of her and submissively interlocked my fingers behind my head. She was eyeing me closely as I spread my thighs just wide enough before coming to full attention. The tone in her reply made chills run all through my body.

 

“I see…”

 

That was when she uncrossed her legs and leaned forward to face me. Mistress Heather then became unusually vulgar as she confronted me by pointing out my seemingly unwarranted wetness and was prompt in accusing me of trying to hide it, even as she bluntly sliced her middle finger up between my cleanly shaven pussy lips. ‘It had to be fucking obvious to any one’, she said, and that I no doubt had been masturbating through my panties at work. She added this with a snide gesture of sticking her finger up under my nose and said that it wouldn’t be hard to tell, even after my things were washed out in the sink. That was when my incriminatingly wet spotted panties were picked up off the floor and forcibly shoved into my mouth.

 

Without my audible admission or a truthful denial to the fact, I found myself being pulled up like a small child before making a clumsy landing over her warm partially exposed thighs. I squirmed there awkwardly as she administered ten angry swats cross my bare bottom with her open hand. I was mortified with her distinctively harsh judgment and I couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed at this point. Still, she remained in perfect form while hiking her skirt up a bit further after putting me back on my knees rather unceremoniously.

 

This whole scene became so much more degrading as she warned me to get back in position and not to rub what I thought must now be my glowing bright pink cheeks. She emphasized this with the very humiliating charade of shaking her perfectly manicured finger just inches from my face, which then easily worked to belittle me even more.

 

“I don’t have to tolerate this kind of apathetic behavior from you Sharon.”

 

Tears started to well in my eyes as I fought with the ordeal of trying to stay in position. The total lack of having any control over my situation became even more embarrassing as I began caving into her increasingly cruel intimidations. Just the sound of her voice when she had uttered my name seemed to be a foreboding sign of the degree of my pending night of sexual discipline.

 

Several heavy tears fell as she began sadistically twisting and yanking down on my smooth shaven pussy lips. My breathing became more erratic as I tried sniffling back the on coming rush of tears, which then only seemed to work the dry balled panties further down my throat.

 

I began to choke on the silky matted wad and then suddenly found myself panting out loud with a sigh of relief. It first appeared that my growing dilemma had been realized when they had been pulled from my mouth mercifully. This small reprieve however did not readily reflect my Mistress’ forgiving mood.

 

As they were unwontedly dropped to the floor, she grabbed the long loose hair down at the nape of my neck. After yanking my head back with it she slapped my face rudely. I squirmed to get away as she then wickedly pinched both of my stiff nipples very hard. This was of course done because I had been a very bad and disobedient slave girl she said, so this surly meant my being punished like any filthy lezzy slut.

 

In that same moment she forced my head down to her crouch and held me there by the hair. I felt my mouth opening instinctively as the glistening tip of my nose suddenly became thoroughly entrenched in the full of her feminine muff. She nearly suffocated me with her sex before finally freeing me with a lighter grip on the fall of my hair.

 

Her actions were deliberate and clearly malicious as I was forcibly fed her fuzzy mound like a stubborn new born suckling child in parody. It had not been very surprising to me that she had foreseen to remove her panties and nothing else. She often stayed dressed in her everyday office attire if she felt that I needed to be humiliated in this sly evil manner for whatever reason.

 

Knowing the full power of its demeaning effect, she often sits around leisurely after work for an hour or so, seemingly fresh from her day and will linger endlessly while sorting through the mail. Normally while she sits there pondering over the bills and letters needlessly, I am kept down on my knees, anxiously waiting and poised submissively while in the nude. Customarily as a needless token, I will be wearing a leash on my slave collar, which is always tethered securely to the coffee table or around a chair leg.

 

To prolong my nightly ritual of disgrace, she will often leave me there, perpetually humiliated by having to remain alone and naked for most of the evening unless I am released to prepare (on occasions) a formal candlelight dinner for her and female guests. My domestic dress is potentially the same when I am doing this or left down stairs instead after she releases me to clean in a frivolously small starched costume apron. Domestication and sexual servitude have become the only suitable roles for me in her eyes.  

 

She of course shows little concern when leaving me in ether state of  physical or mental undress and will go up for the decadent luxury of a steaming hot bubble bath. On these nights, after about an hour or so, she will reappear in nothing but her open bath robe to check on me. Being almost naked herself, she likes to keep me busy around the house with a string mop or feather duster; that is if I am not using my very well trained tongue on the various inappropriate places of her body for obvious seedy feminine pleasures while she teases me sadistically with my somewhat reluctantly surrendered feather duster.

 

Less fortunate for me are the growing number of evenings when I have failed to meet her requirements and she leaves me waiting after in the exceedingly cramped corner of her master bedroom closet. The only things I usually have to keep me mentally occupied in the dark are the many nervous butterflies in my stomach and the thin less noticeable welts that she leaves with a wire clothes hanger.

 

There are other more terrifying nights when she returns and is dressed in things just a little less casual (A half T-shirt with a pair of old jeans cut-off very short at the crouch, halter tops which match her girlishly tight gym pants, or just a clinging low cut summer dress which is never anything less then totally revealing).

 

These risqué and comfortably sexy outfits of hers have become very unsettling, as I am often taken to the basement on these occasions, (that is whenever she has a good mind to) and hung up by my wrists for the beginning of a very unpleasant night under the mercy of her many whips. This has become punishment for my seemingly more severe infractions.

 

Remembering the most recent night when she spread my legs and paddled the wonton bald flesh of my aching pussy with a wooden ruler for failing to be pleasing in some way, I woke attentively to this new dilemma of almost suffocating between her legs. Choking back my tears I became thoroughly intoxicated with the musky warm odor of her fully tufted feminine mound. As I did this, the smell suddenly became overwhelming and much more surprising to me. The stronger familiar scent was heavily laced all through her fuzzy blonde pubic hairs and my outward expression obviously showed the subtle signs of my unwilling disgust. She judged my insubordinates and became rather animalistic in grinding my face into her unwashed sex.

 

The tang mixed with the humid warmth of her sweetly perfumed skin and filled my nostrils with its slightly less unpleasant scent. Strangely the somewhat disagreeable taste seemed to be almost exciting me as my mouth opened fully over her perfect hooded mound. The rough incensed handling and her soft growing guttural moans soon entices me to reach back mindlessly between my own moist heated inner thighs.

 

As I succumb to my forbidden Pandoric desires, I found myself being sternly awakened with the wheedling wrath of her primordial judgment and felt the fury of true punishment for my curious need for not abstaining. Her apocalyptic means proved most effective and was delivered as a single stinging fiery lash from her favorite braded leather riding crop. It fell smartly down between my partially razed ass cheeks which then allowed the narrow flat tip to strike squarely on the open flower of my swollen pussy flesh. It jarred me back to the absurd reason why I was being physically abused like this. I was unable to throw my head back or cry out or do anything except scream loudly into her gushing wet love tunnel. The force of her blow had easily racked my naked body and splattered any former signs which would have alone easily drenched my panties.

 

It should have been needless to say that at this very moment it seemed more then overwhelming, as I could not recall being tormented so vicious in the past. I also had never felt such an arousing state of ecstasy or the sheer intrusive lust which came with the single kiss of her whip.

 

As I came, gasped, shuddered and panted for air, another demand was made which became more effective in throwing me even further off balance as she ordered me to put both hands behind my back. With an unsetting ease she had me teetering there over on my knees which now left me in a truly submissive position. It easily allowed her to hold my head more precariously down in between her open thighs. While still flailing with the painful ecstasy down in my openly exposed labia, I managed to keep lapping sporadically through my shallow breathes. Even while in the throes of my sexual agony I remained very intent on trying to please her desperately. After her first less animated orgasm she stopped me, implying that I had not been very diligent. It seemed she took more delight in letting me know that she had started her period that morning.

 

My heart sank as I soon realized that my efforts were all for not when she ordered me down to the basement. After I crawled in behind her, Mistress Heather had me kneel on the cold floor while she locked my wrists and dog collar to a spreader bar. Laying me on the padded horse she rapped my ass savagely with a twelve inch plastic cock. There were no intentions of being genial with the full length of it attached to a small broom which she has used to sensitize my nipples and certain other tender body parts. After my sodomy I was left there for another sleepless night with both ankles still shackled to ether side of the black painted wooden legs.

 

While laying there I couldn’t help but keep the surreal threat of her parting words in my mind as I listened to the fading sound of her heels ascending the basement stairs.

 

“A new girlfriend of mine seems to be very interested in coming over Sharon, and she has a very sweet lovable dog. I told her that she might find the perfect little doggy treat for him here if they both ever considered coming over. I would expect you to be on your best behavior, and even more so, to be one very hot little bitch in heat for Maxi…”

 

“…Or else.”