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Two women enter, a brunette and a blonde. The brunette is the taller of the two, and she seems the domineering type. Long legs, tight body, strong arms, and she wears a dark red lipstick that accentuates her sharp features. The blonde is more along the small-and-cute variety. She's dimpled, and her large breasts look enormous on her petite body. Neither of them are dressed like a dominatrix. Somehow, I expected slave buyers to be into leather and chains. My two new owners are dressed in jeans and t-shirts.
Still, they are the most beautiful women I've ever laid eyes on.
I kneel silently, turned on as I am just by the site of these two gorgeous women. I'm anxious to demonstrate what a whore I am. I want them to know that their purchase was the right one, but I haven't been given any orders yet.
"A slave does not even scratch an itch without permission," he told me.
Behind them, on a leash, is the girl who first brought me into this room, but she is no longer in that comfortable position of power with the swagger she had before. She is naked, like me, and trembling. She's sweaty and her knees are weak. I don't know what's happened to her, but I gather that perhaps our owners have used her and had their way with her while not letting her cum. She is too horny to even walk a straight line. God, how I envy her. Fortunate enough to suffer such humiliation to satisfy these women. I hope against hope that they will soon do such humiliating things to me and treat me like the fuckslut I am. My pussy leaks just thinking of it.
They close the door behind them, and the brunette turns to my fellow slave and says, "As ordered." Without any hesitation, the other slave falls to all fours, reaches under her stomach and begins to finger her pussy. Her moans are intense beyond belief. No doubt she has been aching to cum for a long time, hours perhaps, as I have no idea how long I have been alone in this room.
My brunette Mistress stands beside the slave holding the leash while the blonde walks around behind me, puts her hand on my shoulder, tilts my head up and says, "Watch." So I look directly at the other slave and she looks back at me. Her intense breathing doesn't stop us from making solid eye contact, nor does the sweat pouring down her face as she struggles happily to hold her orgasm. Without a word between us, she tells me in her eyes how lucky the both of us are to be forced to perform like toys for these to women. How lucky we are that our bodies are playthings and that we have the opportunity to be ordered to withhold orgasm and be complete whores and harlots so that they can be happy.
Without a word, I tell her, "I know."
"Stop," the brunette says, and the other slave removes her hand from her pussy. But the show hasn't ended. While she is still on all fours, the brunette pulls from her pocket a vibrator. The other slave can't see it and hasn't thought to brace herself. I think for a moment about making a gesture with my face to indicate what's about to come. But I don't. Why deny this woman the pleasure of being so surprised and knowing the humiliation and torment will be for her mistresses. So the slave starts to catch her breath as she resides on all fours, when suddenly, the vibrator is jammed into her, and she screams. She could cum on a moment's notice, but she won't. She will hold it as ordered.
This continues for some time. I know the show is purely for my benefit. My new owners want me to see what's in store for my future. They want me to be excited. Most people would be frightened to know that their future would be spent naked, used and abused. Not me. I am a slave. This is my purpose. This is where I belong.
Eventually, the other slave's torment stops, and the brunette unhooks the leash and orders her to kneel next to me, which she does instantly. The brunette approaches me and jerks my collar up hard, indicating that I am to be on my feet. Since my hands are still cuffed, it takes a moment to find balance, but I do. Then, they begin to inspect me, like a used car they had just bought that they want to search for flaws. The blonde is behind me, and she starts from the bottom, looking at my legs, going up to my ass and up my back. The brunette is in front. She starts from my face, looking at my teeth and moving down to my breasts, down my stomach, and she slides a finger into my pussy. It shocks me. She pulls the finger out, finding that I am sopping wet. "Natalie," she says.
The blonde says, "Yeah?"
"She's soaked," answers the brunette. "Told you I can tell a true whore when I see one."
Natalie chuckles. "You. You can always spot the true whores from the pretenders."
I know it. I know what they mean. Many of the girls who trained with me were made to believe they were sluts. Our trainers imposed slutiness onto them. But me, I was different. They found the slut inside me and exposed it. The slut I had repressed for so long but was so thrilled to have released.
The blonde pulls back my hair and looks behind my ear. "Tiffany, look at this." The brunette - Tiffany, clearly - comes and looks at what Natalie had found. "A tattoo," Natalie says. "'TP.' Who do you suppose TP is?"
They drove out most of my memories. What did it matter who I was before? Yet I vaguely remember somebody named TP for whom I got that tattoo, somebody of importance.
"Whoever it is, she'll never see him again," Tiffany responds. "We'll have to get that removed by laser."
Natalie says, "Naturally. Funny how she was branded once before, though. We'll get her a real brand soon enough."
They're going to brand me like a cow? Oh God, I can barely stand from how hot I'm getting.
"What about the breasts?" Tiffany asks. "Perky enough?"
"I think for now. We'll have to see how she does and reconsider."
That they're talking about my body like it's not mine - which it isn't - is perhaps the biggest turn on I have ever experienced.
The brunette picks up the vibrator and holds it close to my mouth, saying, "Let's test her training." God, how I long to have that in my mouth.
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My trainer sat on a couch in front of me as I knelt and he held my leash.
"What is your mouth?" he asked.
I didn't understand. What is my mouth?
"I don't understand, sir." He smacked me across the face.
"Your mouth is just a hole in your body," he said. "Your mouth is just another pussy."
I understood. There was so much in that sentence but how earnestly I understood. There was pleasure in being fucked in my pussy even before my days of slavery. Having a man's cock or an object in there stimulated me. But now, it was to be my owner's pleasure that would stimulate me. And sucking something for that owner would bring him or her pleasure. Maybe because it was his dick that I was sucking or maybe because it would demean me. Either way, I was going to get satisfaction from having my mouth fucked as much as having my pussy fucked.
It took only a moment before the urge set in. It was almost Pavlovian. As soon as he had said that sentence, I stared at his crotch, as the object of my urge was covered by a pair of slacks. I wanted that cock. Not for my pussy, but for my mouth. I wanted it in my mouth. I wanted to be fucked by it in my "other pussy." But I dared not make a move as a good slave. God, how it burned me that it was so close and I salivated over it. I panted and I grit my teeth, wanting so badly to go over and unzip him.
He laughed. He knew I was struggling to control myself, and he knew he did this to me. The power he had over me just made me want to suck him off more. But he sat there and watched me squirm, enjoying the pain I was in. How horrible he was, and how I loved that he was horrible.
For hours perhaps we sat, then he took me back to my cage. He gave me an order. "Until I tell you, you are not to suck cock under any condition."
"Yes, sir," I said.
They did everything they could to make that as difficult on me as possible. Several times during the day, a naked man would come by and stick his hard cock between the bars of my cage. It was inches away and God, I could dive on it and have the satisfaction of it in my mouth. But I was ordered not to, so I held off, even though it gave me pains all over. I wanted to suck so badly and for no other reason than because he told me I wanted to suck. But I couldn't.
The worst was him. As he was as close to an owner as I'd ever had, his was the cock I wanted most. But for the next several days, he would tempt me for hours, taking me back to that room and making me kneel right in between his legs, not letting me wrap my lips around it. Then one day - five days after it first started, I think - he took his pants off and told me to give him a blow job. That was as satisfied as I'd ever been. I had given blow jobs before, but never did it feel so good, so wonderful, the taste and the knowledge that he was enjoying it. All the stress of days released as I gobbled his cock hungrily, wanting nothing else than for his hard dick to stuff deep down my throat. I took him all the way, even though it made me choke, until he pulled me off and finished all over my face. I didn't wipe it off. Something told me he wanted it to stay there.
"Good girl," he said, and led me back to my cage.
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I sucked that vibrator intensely, knowing for one that it was humiliating and would please my Mistresses, but even more that it was a tryout of sorts. I didn't know if they had male friends for me to please, but just in case, I had to be the biggest whore I could.
Natalie smiled. "Hard to say for sure, but she strikes me as some talent."
"Top notch," Tifanny responded. "Possibly even main attraction talent."
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Tiff. Let's just see how well she does on Tuesday."
What happens Tuesday? My pussy aches to know.
"Come along," Natalie says, as she leads me out of the room by the leash.
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