A Slave To Politics
Part 4
by SpeechMasterOne
I lay panting on the cold concrete floor, my breasts burning and red, my nipples
hard and throbbing, my whole body shaking with a kind of tension I had never
encountered before. My hottest, wildest dreams of submission had not come close
to the intensity and sheer power of the last 12 hours or so.
This is all wrong. I am rapidly losing control of my free will. I am losing
grasp of the life that I have worked so hard for. I have no idea what is in
store for me, except that it will include more humiliation, and more sexual
torture and more violations of my body and mind. My brain is screaming out that
this is bad. But another part of me, a part that I had only explored in my
lonely fantasies and dreams, was not only screaming that this was good, but it
was growing stronger, and I am afraid it is taking control.
Brittany is not giving me a chance to think my way out of this. She commands me
to stand. I struggle with my hands still locked behind me. The sales clerk dried
herself with some tissues and smoothed down her skirt, all the while amused at
the sight of my horny body struggling to stand.
Finally standing at attention, Brittany tells me, "Dry off the goo from your
face and cunt. Put on the second outfit. Then bring the others to the front
counter. I expect you outside in two minutes."
The sales girl unlocks the cuffs and saunters up to the front with Brittany. I
grab the tissues and wipe off my face and crotch. I quickly change into the new,
preposterous outfit. The top is a spandex white shirt that is so tight that I
struggle to fit it around my firm breasts. The skirt is a black, spandex item
that covers only the very top of my thighs. My glance at the mirror screamed of
sex. My breasts looked large and round, with my nipples hard as little fingers
pointing forward. You could even make out every detail of my tiny little bra.
The skirt showed off my tight ass and my runner's legs, and the heels defined my
calf muscles. I turned away to keep from eliciting unwanted tears (or maybe to
keep from getting too aroused yet again...I am not sure of anything now).
I gather the clothes and trot towards the front counter as quickly as the heels
will allow. I made it just in time. Brittany hands the clerk my credit card. As
the clerk hands me the packages, she tells me "See ya soon, fucktoy!"
I carried the packages as we walked to down the mall to our next destination.
The mall is becoming packed and I felt as if all eyes were staring at me. Boys
would stop talking at start following us from a distance, making lewd comments
just loud enough for me to hear. I was relieved when we turned into the food
court.
She picked up two salads and sat at a table that was closest to the escalators.
She sat down and started to eat her salad while I stood next to her, waiting for
some indication that I could sit. Everyone stared at me as I stood there for
long minutes.
"You may sit now my champion cunt slut. Keep your legs open. You have a choice,
now...you can eat without the use of your hands, or you can starve until the
next time I allow you to eat. Believe me when I tell you that you will need your
energy...I have been too easy on you so far!"
I was stunned. Too easy? I can't imagine my life getting any more difficult. And
i can't believe that I have to eat like a dog from this dish, with everyone
watching. Yet the fear of punishment snapped me back to my new reality.
"Yes, Miss Brittany."
I leaned forward and started chomping on the salad. As long as I kept my eyes
pointed at the dish, I could almost forget where I was and what I was doing in
front of all of these people. The salad was not big, so I finished in relative
speed.
"May I wipe my face, Miss Brittany?"
"Not yet. Grab a napkin and follow me into the ladies room."
I quickly followed her, carrying my bags and struggling to pull the hem down to
hide my charms. I was a beacon to everyone's eyes. I wanted to scream at them to
mind their own business. Or tell them to help me stop this devil girl.
She pulled me into the large handicap stall. "Watching you being such a slut
today has me very horny right now. Here are your choices, my little slavee. You
can wipe your face, get on your knees and eat me until I say, or walk around
with the dressing all over your face for the rest of the day. And to tilt the
scales, I will also require you to wear these," she said as she held up a pair
of wicked looking nipple clamps.
The choice was clear. "May I lick your pussy, Miss Brittany?" Even as I asked
the question, my I could again feel the waves of both revulsion and excitement
rush through me.
"I thought that you would never ask," she said as she lifted her skirt and
pulled down her thong panties. I wiped my face, knelt down and braced my arms on
her thighs. I dove in, working her cunt with the care of someone who was scared
to death to get whipped. She was definitely sweeter tasting than the sales
clerk, and in a warped way I appreciated her for it. I worked as fast and
furious as I could, fucking her hole with my tongue and flicking her clit in an
effort to get this over with as quickly as I could.
"Slow down, slut. I know that you love my pussy, but you need to take the time
to worship it. If I cum too soon, you may still have the honor of wearing the
nipple clamps." So I slowed down, using my fingers to pull apart her lips as I
jabbed and swirled my tongue into her pussy. For over 15 minutes, I worked her
pussy, slowing at her order when she was getting too close to cumming.
All the while, people were entering the rest room. It was all too obvious to
anyone who entered what was going on in our stall. Shame spread through me as I
heard horrid comments from these women as they left.
When she was finally ready, I unleashed a fury of licking and sucking to make
her cum. Her orgasm was thunderous, yet she was able to keep her noise down to a
surprisingly low level. She was pulling on my ponytail, holding me tight to her
pussy as she humped hard into my face. Then she came again. And again. My face
became drenched and my jealousy raged.
Finally she came down from her high. "You are becoming quite a cunt slave. We
will definitely share your skills with others. Lots of others. But i get ahead
of myself. Help me up, and let's get over to the shoe store. And don't wipe your
face. I like the look of 'face paint' on that beautiful face. I am sure everyone
in the mall will as well. Come on, let's not doddle."
My knees ached something fierce as I struggled to get to my feet. The "face
paint" comment shot another dagger into my soul. Not only did she make me lick
her, (which I can't believe I will ever enjoy) but now I must display her juice
on my face like some kind of badge of dishonor. I wanted to yell to everyone I
passed 'I Am Straight; I Am Not A Lesbian; I Am Not A Slut!!!'
I felt so humiliated as we strolled the promenade, everyone passing by noticing
the slut with wetness on her nose, mouth and chin. I happened to glance down and
I noticed that some of the juice had dripped onto my top. It just kept getting
worse.
I thanked God as we finally arrived at a women's shoe store.
The place is quite busy. The shoes are a bit cheap and are meant for the
younger, dance club crowd. Brittany grabs several pairs of platform heels,
stiletto heels, and high heel leather boots. She commands me to sit down and we
wait for sales lady.
"Bring each of these in a size 8 1/2 please."
As we wait, Brittany leans over, "accidentally" brushing my sensitive nipples.
She whispers, "I want you to keep your legs open as you try on the shoes. I also
want you to push your chest out whenever possible. Show as much of yourself as
you can without getting me in trouble. You are to keep eye contact with the
sales girl at all times."
"Yes, Miss Brittany."
I was shaking. She wants me to act like a slut in heat to this perfect stranger.
And was she perfect. The sales lady was in her mid twenties, blond, blue eyes,
tall and thin with legs that did not quit. The thought of exposing myself this
beautiful girl was not only humiliating me, but making me wet again. God, don't
I have any control over my body?
As she sat down, I separated my knees, exposing my wet pussy to anyone giving me
more than a passing glance. I thrust my chest out as the clerk takes out the
first pair of shoes and turns towards me. You could see the shock in her face.
She stopped cold for several seconds. yet I had my mission, and did not want yet
another punishment. I slowly lifted my right leg in offering. She could not help
but see my wet slit as she removed my shoe and slipped the platform heel on.
Repeating this with my left, I stood up. I had not realized how high these heels
were. I must stand six feet one, maybe six feet two with these outrageous heels.
I wobbled down to the full-length mirror. My legs looked as long as redwoods,
focusing attention to all of the curves and muscles in my legs. What's worse, it
made my skimpy outfit look even skimpier.
The smile on Brittany's face showed she was pleased with the enormous heels.
"What do you think?" she asked the sales girl.
"Fine", the clerk mumbled.
"I am sorry, I could not hear you."
The sales girl spoke up, "They look fine. They are definitely appropriate. Does
she always dress like this?"
"She is a sex slave, my personal fucktoy. She enjoys dressing like this."
My mind was screaming. 'This Is Not True. She Is Making Me Do This. HELP ME!!!'
"Wow, I never met a lesbian slave before. She is very beautiful, in a sluttish
kind of way. What is that on her face?"
"She is wearing my love juice on her face. She loves licking my slit," Brittany
smiled triumphantly. "Well, if you ever want to see more of her, just let me
know," Brittany said as she winked at the girl. "We would like this pair and the
matching pair of boots." She handed the girl my credit card.
I stood there in front of Brittany, choking back the tears of humiliation. Why
can't I do anything? I feel so helpless. When the girl returned with my receipt
for signature, she handed me a tissue to wipe my face. Brittany nodded, and I
wiped the tears and wetness from my face. Some of the juices had begun to dry.
Brittany whispered for me to write down her phone number on the receipt, just in
case. I kept my eyes staring straight into the clerk's eyes, and you could see
both her embarrassment and her intrigue.
Brittany pulled a chain out of her purse and hooked it to the front of my
collar. She yanked it as she walked out the door. With bags filling both hands,
tears rolling from my eyes, my hips swaying and my tiny little outfit barely
hiding my charms, she led me like a dog down the length of the mall and through
the parking lot. At her command, I put the bags in the back seat, lift my skirt
above my ass cheeks, and sat down on my seat. Some of my juices from the ride in
had dried on the seat.
We said nothing to each other as we drove home. The events of the day were so
overwhelming that I sobbed, the recollection of each and every event so
shameful. By the end of the drive, it was late afternoon and I felt more
settled.
Once we settled into my house, she told me to lie on my back on the bed. She
tied my wrists together and secured them to my headboard. She repeated the
effort with my ankles, attaching them to the end of the bed. She then threaded
it under the small of my back and around my waist. She secured each end of the
rope to the bed frame to either side of me. She then grabbed the strap in my
ponytail and tied a rope to it, then attached it to the headboard. I could
barely move.
"I am going to allow you a couple hours of sleep...you are definitely going to
need it for tonight. But don't worry, I won't let you get to lonely, my slavee
pooh!" She then pulled a blindfold over my eyes and strapped it tight behind my
head. She then placed earphones over my ears. I could feel her pulling another
strap around my head, pulling the earphones tighter. Several seconds later, the
sound of Brittany's voice filled my ears.
"You are Miss Brittany's sex slave. Miss Brittany owns your body. You will do
anything she asks, without hesitation. You will give your body to her anytime
she wishes. You will serve her in any way she commands. You will not speak
unless spoken to. Any violation will mean painful and prolonged punishment. Miss
Brittany enjoys that you hate many of the things she will do to you or require
of you. Only Miss Brittany's pleasure matters. Again, only Miss Brittany's
pleasure matters."
"You are Miss Brittany's sex slave. Miss Brittany owns your body. You will do
anything..."
I struggle to get free, to strip these headphones off of my head. I am tied so
tightly that my prolonged struggles are in vain. I try to think of something
else and keep my mind strong in an effort to resist her obvious attempt to
brainwash me.
"You are Miss Brittany's sex slave. Miss Brittany owns....." Finally my
exhaustion catches up to me and I quickly fall to sleep, while my subconscious
is repeatedly pounded by this message.
(to be continued)
