Enslaved by my Daughter

Enslaved by my Daughter – part 8

It has been 4 days since I posted, days where I have been treated so kindly and gently by Miss Hilary. I wonder if this will last, or if there will be a return to the hard use and cruelty I’ve experienced up to now. I know I’ll have to wait and see. My only thought is to keep Miss Carrie and Miss Hilary satisfied and try to avoid punishment or further “training”. But this morning I returned to work, and this is what I am posting about . . .

Miss Hilary awakened me and unlocked and unfastened my nighttime bondage chains. Then she took off my chastity belt, and I immediately wanted to touch myself, but Miss Hilary was watching closely and I knew better than to try. She allowed me to go to the toilet, but watched me the entire time. Then she helped me into the shower and washed my hair and gently soaped and washed my body all over then toweled me dry. I actually felt good. When I was clean and dry she led me back into my small room where my attire for the day was laid out for me. Then she put a large butt plug into my rear, twisting and forcing it. Even though it was well-lubricated it still hurt to have it forced into my rear that way. I had experienced butt plugs often during the prior weeks but this one must have been larger. Then my belt went back on and was locked up tight and my vagina rings laced tight around the steel bottom plate. I think she pulled them even more tightly than she had before, it hurt me. I felt stuffed and stretched and felt the pain of my poor vagina lips being stretched tight around my chastity belt.

Still it was wonderful to see my beautiful professional clothing again; I knew I always looked good, powerful, in it and I had missed wearing it. Before I started to dress myself, Miss Hilary said, “just one more thing Ms. Bennett”. She had a leather waist cincher in her hands, and she wrapped it around my mid-section and began to lace it up. When it was all laced she went around behind me and began to tighten it. It wasn’t easy, she put her knee up into the center of my back and pulled hard on the lacing. I gasped, she was a strong girl and I felt my breath being squeezed right out of me. As she finished and tied it tight I had to gasp to get some air. Then she told me, “You’ll eventually get used to it Ms. Bennett, Miss Carrie wants your waist down to a 25 inches”. I am naturally a 30 waist and with a 40 inch bust and hips I always felt I had a nice hourglass figure, but this made it extreme. I could see in the mirror that the cincher was perfectly made and smoothed as it tightened me. I was now an extreme hourglass figure . . . 40C-25-40! I actually admired the look of it, but I still struggled to breathe. I hoped Miss Hilary was right about getting used to it!

Then I dressed myself, no underwear of course and I felt very strange without a bra, but there was no choice. As I dressed myself it seemed as if EVERYTHING was a bit snug. I couldn’t believe I had put on weight these last weeks of training. I had been worked long and hard by Miss Hilary and had not had very much at all to eat. How had this happened? I fumbled with the buttons on my lovely blouse, I couldn’t find them easily. I wasn’t used to dressing myself, but it felt good to do it. I admired myself in the full-length mirror that was one “luxury” left to me in that small, sparse room.

Then it hit me what had happened with my “weight gain” and my clothing. As Miss Hilary said, “you really look sexy Ms. Walker”, I realized that my clothing had been altered while I was being trained. I normally wore my skirts loosely fitted and at just below knee length. That same skirt that I knew well, one of my favorites, was now about 4 inches above the knee and so tight I was almost hobbled. The waist had been taken in so it fit my “new”, cinched waist smoothly. And that favorite cream-colored silk blouse was now so tight that my bare breasts pressed out suggestively, and the top 3 buttons had been removed, so I had quite a “plunge” at the neckline. And the sides had been taken a lot so that they hugged my tight-cinched waist closely. It wasn’t really a sheer blouse, but the fabric was light enough that my darker aureoles showed through and the pressure of the fabric made my nipples stand out. And I had forgotten . . . my nipples were ringed, and those rings showed clearly also! I looked pleadingly at Miss Hilary, but she just sat me down on the bed and put my shoes on for me. They felt different somehow, and as she fastened the ankle straps I heard a little “snap”. Then she stood me up for another look in the mirror. Miss Hilary is a little over 6 feet tall, but I towered over her now. I felt my leg muscles and calves strain and saw that the shoes I had on, LOCKED on, were stiletto heels of over 6 inches, perhaps almost 7 inches. And the locks were clearly identifiable as exactly what they were. I was in a state of panic!

I turned to her and begged, “Miss Hilary, I can’t go to work this way, I just CAN’T”. She answered with a hard slap across the face, then another, clouding my eyes with tears. “Go out for breakfast now Ms. Walker”, she said to me, “Miss Carrie chose that outfit especially for you so if you have an issue you need to take it up with her . . . but I WOULDN’T if I were you”. She shoved my out of the room saying, “Miss Carrie fixed you a nice breakfast this morning, so I hope you’re appreciative”!

I staggered into the kitchen to see Miss Carrie smiling at me. Miss Hilary followed me in. But I was still stunned from seeing my “new look” and not thinking clearly. I immediately started to beg, “Oh Carrie dear . . . I’m sorry I mean Miss Carrie . . . I can’t go to the office this way, I just CAN’T . . . PLEASE . . . !” She watched me, her smile fading, then I felt Miss Hilary grab me from behind, and pin my elbows together and push me right up to Miss Carrie. I was slapped HARD across my face, I don’t know how many times, until I was groggy and sobbing uncontrollably. Miss Carrie then said, “well slut, now you’ve used up all the credit you earned with me from taking your branding so well”. Then she let know in no uncertain terms that yes, I WOULD go to the office exactly as I was dressed, and I would go today and every day, dressed just as she wished, even more extreme than the way I was dressed now is she wished it. She told me that I WAS a slut, so I might as well let the people I know and work with see it. I wilted; I knew she was right, right about everything she said. How could I have ever doubted?

I saw then that she had indeed fixed me breakfast, there were 3 plates set at the table. I was to have been allowed to eat at the table with the two of them, a major privilege for me. But I had lost it, I saw a plate of food being dumped in the trash. Oh, how sorry I was just then. Then I was told to assume my position. I was intimidated enough that I immediately got on my knees and went to spread my legs apart, so my face would be at the proper level. But my tight skirt, short though it was, bound my thighs and wouldn’t allow my legs to move far enough apart. A sharp slap in the face made me act; I hiked my skirt up to my waist and quickly spread my knees as wide as apart as I could manage. Then Miss Carrie stood over me and said, “only a liquid breakfast for you now, slut”, then pulled my face tightly against her pussy. “If any spills on your blouse you’ll go to work that way, soaked with urine”, she told me, “and I don’t think you want that do you”? I certainly DIDN’T want that! She released her stream directly into my waiting, wide-open mouth, and I pressed my lips tight against her and gulped and swallowed desperately. I swallowed quite a lot, but nothing I wasn’t used to by now. Then she turned to Miss Hilary and said, “you go ahead now Hil”. Then I willingly pressed my open mouth tight against her sweet pussy, and swallowed all she gave me. When I had finished, and my belly gurgled with its pungent fullness, I was told to stand up.

When I was on my feet again, smoothing my skirt back down, Miss Carrie handed me my small purse and told me to fix my face and get to work. There is a full-length mirror next to the front door, so I opened my purse to get my “daytime” make-up supplies out. That was all there, but other than that, the only things in my purse were my car and house keys, my driver’s license, a ten-dollar bill, and 2 mobile phones. One of those was my firm’s phone, the other one was a special one Miss Carrie had told me about. It had been set up so only incoming calls and texts were allowed, I could not use it to make calls only receive them. And it had special ring-tones, one for calls from Miss Carrie, one for calls from Miss Hilary. I had been told that if I received a call or text that I was to answer it IMMEDIATELY, no matter where I was or what I was doing. I was sure that would be an embarrassment to me at times but I knew better than to ever disobey her. Nothing else except that, no more cash, no credit cards, nothing! I was on a short leash.

In the mirror I could see my face was a mess, red-eyed and tear-streaked. I did what I could, by the time I got to the office I would look fine. I took some deep breaths. I saw myself entirely in the mirror, my god I, my “look” was absolutely screaming SEX. And now I had to face my co-workers. Cassandra Walker, partner . . . the one who had always been so carefully conservative in her professional look. Now I looked like the slut I had become. Another deep breath, and out the door and down to the parking garage for my car. As I waited for our garage attendant to bring my car around, I could feel the stares I was getting from all the guys who worked there. They all knew me and I knew them, and there had been friendly attitudes and brief conversations. I blushed so hard I could feel my face flush, I knew I was bright red. And I got the traditional, “good morning Ms. Walker”, but I saw a different look in their eyes. They were seeing me in a different light than before. I kept my eyes straight ahead and said nothing to anyone. Every morning I would face this humiliation. I supposed I would eventually get used to it. I knew Miss Carrie had made me a slut, HER slut, but I didn’t FEEL like a slut yet. I almost wanted to feel that way as soon as possible, maybe I wouldn’t be so humiliating for everyone to see me this way. What a relief when my car came and I could get in, drive away, and “hide” for a bit. At least until I arrived at the office; then I would face humiliation all over again.

I calmed myself during the short drive to my office, and pulled into the lower level parking garage. But then it struck me again, I had to go in and see people . . . and have them see ME! I sat there thinking . . . how could I avoid this? I did want to return to work, but like THIS! I even thought about just running, driving away as far and fast as I could then finding some way to start my life over. But that didn’t last long, ten dollars and no credit cards, a GPS tracker in my car so Miss Carrie would know exactly where I went, And that chastity belt . . . I was plugged and locked in so tight I’d never get out of it. And yesterday Miss Hilary had told me that my belt had been fitted with a GPS tracker also, and this morning I did notice that new little attachment. There was no hope really . . . Miss Carrie HAD me so completely . . . I realized that I would never get away from her. What I was now, that would be the rest of my life! With that knowledge and a hopeless, sinking feeling I dragged myself out of the car and headed towards the elevator. I had no choice really . . .

When the elevator reached my floor, I closed my eyes for a moment, breathed deep and tried to compose myself. When I opened them, the elevator door was open and standing there, waiting for the elevator were Douglas Late 50’s), the firm’s senior partner, Samantha (late 40’s), another lawyer, and Tiffany (20 or 21) one of our student interns. I know I blushed terribly, I felt my face flush just like in my garage. I had to meet their eyes. Douglas seemed a bit shocked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at me. Samantha gave me an appraising look, from head to toe, then smirked and said “well hello Cassandra”. Samantha is probably 6 or 7 years older than I am, very senior in the firm, but not quite so much as I am. We had competed for years and not always on the friendliest of terms. Tiffany just stood wide-eyed, mouth open, staring at me. An awful, awful moment. But I dropped my eyes quickly said, “good morning everyone”, and stepped past them all. I didn’t look behind me but I suppose they went ahead and boarded the elevator. I just needed to get to my office and “hide” again. I didn’t want to imagine the conversation in that elevator just now!

I went straight to my office and Lauren was waiting there for me. She said, “good morning cassie”, and I almost corrected her, she was supposed to call me “Ms. Walker”. But I said, “good morning Lauren”. And started to walk past her into my office, but she held out her arm to stop me, and gave me a hard, cold look saying, “What did you call me”? Then it hit me . . . yes, I HAD always been “Ms. Walker” to her, and she HAD been “Lauren” to her . . . but things were different now. My heart fell; this was as bad as my embarrassment at the elevator moments ago. And then she said to me, ”get in here cassie, NOW”, and steeped into my office ahead of me. I followed meekly, supposing I was going to be reminded of the “new regime”.

As I entered she closed and locked the door behind us, then she stepped over and sat behind my desk, but turned sideways. She gave me “that look” again and said, “get over here carrie and get on your knees”. “What mistake did you make just now”, she asked me?  I knew! “I should have said good morning MISS Lauren . . . I’m very sorry”, I answered. But she still didn’t seem pleased, saying, “well you’re correct cassie, but I think you need some re-enforcement, you can’t afford too many mistakes like that”. Then she reached into her purse and extracted a ring-gag just like the one I wear at home. I looked up at her and murmured, “please, don’t please, not HERE”, quietly. She smiled down at me and replied, “yes HERE and yes NOW”, as she slipped the gag into my unresisting mouth, then twisted it upright and strapped it tight around my head saying, “under the desk cassie”! I whimpered at the humiliation and the feeling; the certain knowledge, of my helplessness to avoid this. I crawled meekly under my own desk.

Once there she positioned me so that I was facing the opening for the chair and she rolled my chair right up tight to the desk. My face was directly between her legs and she slid her dress up and slipped her panties aside, then pulled my face tight against her now exposed pussy. She probably didn’t even need to say it, “you know what to do slut”, and I DID know and I did it. I got my tongue busy working on her pussy and clit. I tried not to think about what I was doing; to whom I was doing it . . . and most of all WHERE. I could feel her start to shudder, then she orgasmed right in my face, in my mouth, and I tasted her juices. But then as she still shuddered in ecstasy, she pulled my face in harder. I could barely breath my face was so tight against her pussy, her pubic area pressing against my nose. Immediately, even as she still trembled with her orgasm, I felt her release a stream of urine directly down my throat. I tried to pull back, but then I realized if I succeeded my blouse would be soaked . . . and I knew she would make me stay that way. The way my mouth was positioned was difficult, and I gasped and gagged and desperately worked to swallow. I gulped hard and managed to take everything she released without spilling a drop.

But then she said “STAY”! Just like you’d say to a dog . . . but I knew I’d better stay. Then I heard her dial my phone and after a minute begin a conversation.

“Ms. Garrett, this is Lauren. Might I call you Samantha, Ms. Garrett? Thank you. Could you possibly come down to cassie’s office for a minute? Thank you!”

SAMANTHA!? Oh no, NO! Was I to be revealed to HER now? I thought I would simply run away, I couldn’t face that, I REALLY did not get along with Samantha or even like her . . . but I stayed beneath my desk, held tight by Miss Lauren’s thighs clamped tight around my head. I a minute or two, I heard Miss Lauren say ”thank you Samantha, come in, come in”. I heard her step in and the door close. Then Samantha said, “so what is this, a power play”, in a joking tone. Miss Lauren laughed and said, no, no, she tells I can sit at her desk and work while she’s away, so I sort of ‘pretend’ it’s mine . . . silly I know”. Samantha said, “not at all Lauren, who knows – someday – but what did you want to talk with me about”? “Well cassie asked me to talk to you, she’s a little shy about this . . . you saw how she is dressed today didn’t you? . . . well, she feels that she’s always been too conservative and the way she’s dressed today better expresses who she REALLY is”. “hmmmm”, I heard Samantha say, “and is the business about ‘carrie’ and not ‘Ms. Walker’ a part of that too”? Miss Lauren didn’t say anything, but even with my head squeezed between her thighs I felt a motion that told me she nodded yes. Miss Lauren then said, “and she wanted me to tell you that she’d like to speak with you later, in private”. Then Samantha said, “well thanks for filling me in Lauren, she does look slutty but then I always thought she was a bit of a slut underneath all that superior, sophisticated attitude of hers.” Then I heard the door open again and the sounds of the office drifting in.

I felt Miss Lauren (I wouldn’t make THAT mistake again) spread her thighs apart and roll the chair back. She just stood up and walked out, back to her own desk. I knelt there stunned for a bit, then crawled out and collapsed into my chair. I tried to collect myself and I realized I still had the ring-gag strapped into my mouth. I panicked and began to unbuckle it, but then I thought maybe . . . I pressed my intercom button for Miss Lauren. She looked in the door and said, “take that off you fool”, and stepped up to my desk and held her hand out. I hastily took it off and worked my jaws to relax them. Then she took the gag from me and dropped it back into her purse, shaking her head as she turned away. At the door she turned back and again ordered me to “stay”.

That command stunned me, “just like a dog” I thought, and I knew I’d be hearing it often. I just sat there, befuddled, not clear on what to do next. After about 5-10 minutes Miss Lauren came back with a stack of files, dropped them on my desk, and said, “get busy cassie”! I knew I’d need to face that disrespect every single day and I also knew I had better get used to it. Then she said after lunch you have an appointment with Sarai. Sarai is a major client of mine, a Turkish businesswoman probably in her mid 40’s. Even though she is a couple of years older than I am, she is a fantastic beauty; physically superb, perfectly groomed, expensively dressed . . . as only the extremely wealthy can be. I handled legal issues for her many US interests both business and personal. I sometimes had envied her, but over time we actually became good friends outside of our work together, and socialized whenever she was in the country, which was often. “Oh my God”, I thought, “she can’t see me like this”! But with a sinking feeling I knew she WOULD see me “like this”

I had a hard time trying to concentrate and it took me some time to get my head back into business, but I did. At times I remembered my afternoon appointment with dread, but I put it out of my mind . . . I HAD to or go mad . . .

To be continued . . .