A Slave To Politics
Part 6
by SpeechMasterOne
It just keeps going. My mind is unable to rest, unable to stop reacting, unable
to think about much of anything but my throbbing sex. I am so prone and
vulnerable, my hope for someone or something to end this torment almost
obliterated. I feel so alone.
After several hours, the fan and the feather irritate my skin. Every touch rubs
on the raw nerve endings in my thighs and between my legs. That is, except for
my clit. It seems to be thriving from the feather's attention. In fact, it seems
to take over for my brain as the control center of my body. Each time the
feather flutters over my erect nub, it shoots powerful sensations throughout my
body. Even with my limited mobility, my body tries to follow the feather as it
flits away. My body is hot, with a light gleam of sweat covering those areas not
accessed by the fan.
And I am tired. I am finding myself starting to nod off, only to be awakened
every time the feather dances across my clit. Finally, my clit loses the battle
and my mind shuts me down into a fitful sleep. I faintly remember waking up and
being lead upstairs by a leash. It seemed more of a dream.
When I awake, I am lying on the bed, naked except for the collar and my wrists
cuffed behind my back. The light from the windows illuminates the naked curves
of my mistress. I stare at the ceiling, hoping for a few minutes for myself
before Brittany starts with me today. I need the rest.
Unfortunately, I am provided little time to contemplate. Brittany wakes up and
leans over to me. Without a word, she uses her fingernail to lightly scrape one
of my areolas and nipples. Sparks shoot through me. My nipple stands up in rapid
attention. I am shocked at how quickly my body is reacting to the simplest of
touches.
She continues to toy with me, playing with my nipples, and then running her
finger up my neck and around the collar. She traces faint lines behind my ears,
along my cheekbones and over my lips. The sensations are making me horny again.
I hate how she has such command over my body.
Her finger roams down my chest and tight stomach. She traces a sensitive line
around, then over my pouty, swollen pussy lips, which are coated with my dry
fuck juice. She flicks her fingernail over my clit, the enormity of the
sensations causing me to jerk violently. She flicks me a few more times, quickly
bringing me to highly aroused level. She stops as I pant and moan in need.
"Now, lick me. Be a good little pet and take your time...we have all morning,"
she said with a wicked grin. I adjusted myself, which was difficult with my
wrists cuffed behind me. Lying between her legs, I start lightly licking her
pussy lips. I work methodically, licking everything. I follow my instincts,
knowing what I like. I nibble here, lick there. With desire, but without
enjoyment, I bring her to a level of pitched excitement, and then start sucking
on her clit. This sends her skyrocketing into orgasm. After her blissful peak
and a long recovery period, the cycle starts again. I bring her to five gigantic
orgasms for over two hours. My body aches, especially my neck, jaws and tongue.
I am exhausted.
"Every morning, you will masturbate yourself to the brink of orgasm and then
stop. You will then wake me up by licking me to orgasm. Unless, of course, I
have you tied up in some delicious position. Now go take a shower...you smell
like such a slut. Make sure you shave everything closely. And hurry up, I have
an exciting day planned for you," she said as she unlocks my cuffs. I move as
quickly as my achy body will allow. Everything seems to hurt. The hot water of
the shower soothes the aches and allows me to escape my predicament for a few
minutes. When I run my soapy hands over my nipples, it sends erotic pulses
throughout my chest. And it is even more intense when I shave my pussy. I want
to frig my clit to get that orgasm I so badly need, but I am even more afraid of
the punishment. I reluctantly pull my hand out of my crotch and turn off the
shower. I pull myself together as I dry my hair.
Entering the bedroom, Brittany finishes laying my clothes out on the bed. "Step
over to the mirror'" she ordered. I tremble as she cuffs my wrists together in
front of me, and then attaches them to a chain that was hanging from a hook in
the ceiling directly over the full-length mirror. I had never seen the hook
before, so it must be some of her demonic handy work. She pulls me high enough
that I have to lift my heels off the floor. Using her feet, she nudges my legs
about 2 feet apart, causing me to stand even higher on the balls of my feet.
She walks around me, assessing my body, still damp from the shower and
erotically stressed from this morning's teasing and the activities of the past
few days. Maybe from fear or from anticipation of more teasing and punishment,
my nipples immediately pop erect. And I can feel my clit grow and throb. I
marvel at how quickly my body betrays me now. I am turning into such a slut.
"You look so beautiful," she purrs as she runs her fingers over my breasts. "You
are coming along much quicker than I had anticipated. I thought that it would
take at least a week, but look how quickly I have taken control of your body.
Despite how hard you fight it, your body now listens to me."
And she was right. As she talks, her fingers dance over my body, running up my
arms and down my neck, over by belly and along my thighs. Within seconds, my sex
starts dripping. Despite every effort to keep from getting excited, I can do
nothing to stop her from heating up my body. After several minutes, I am
panting.
"Open your eyes and look at how I control this body. Look at how it is a toy -
my toy - to play with, as I like. Watch,'" she purrs as she toys with the lips
of my sex, tickling them, massaging them. The reflection haunts me. I see
myself, yet I have never seen this person before. The body in the mirror is
glowing with erotic need; breasts have swelled, vagina has opened like a flower,
all puffy and oozing, chest rapidly expanding and contracting, hips gyrating. I
can see the sexual strain pulse through every muscle.
She stops as I near my peak. The flash blinds me as she snaps off a series of
pictures, making sure not to get any with her reflection in the mirror.
She allows me to cool down as she changes into her workout clothes. I can't help
but stare at her reflection in the mirror, her proud breasts swaying gently over
her thin torso as she pulls on her sports bra; her tight ass flexing as she
pulls up her thong, followed by her stretch pants.
Finished dressing, she unlocks my wrists. "Put these on. We are going to the
gym, where I will instruct you on your new workout regimen," she said as she
points to the workout clothes lying on the bed.
The sports bra and the lycra pants cling like a second skin. I can see the
outline of my swollen sex without and it looks obvious that I am not wearing
underwear. Once the shoes were laced, I feel some what normal again.
Brittany is sitting at the table eating her cereal. She pours milk into a second
bowl and sets it down on the floor. "Eat quickly, my pet," she said as she taps
the floor with her sneaker. Scared of being punished, I kneel without hesitation
and stick my face in the bowl. I am so hungry that I almost inhale the small
portion of cereal she had laid out for me. It is only when I finish eating that
I think of this humiliating position. The dread washes over me again.
We hustle out to the car and start our drive to the gym. "Let me explain how we
are changing your workouts. I have admired how lean and strong you are, though
you overestimate your conditioning. I want you stronger with more endurance and
flexibility. And I love the look of strong women. I never told you that did I?
Anyway, I want you to build more muscle in you ass, thighs, calves, shoulders,
etc. You will need the added strength for the rigorous activities you will be
required to perform. I went easy on you last night because I knew that you
lacked the strength and endurance. We will remedy this through changes in your
diet and workouts."
That was easy? I am fearful of what would be a normal session!
"We will workout for 2 hours everyday - 30 minutes free weights, 1 hour stair
master, and 30 minutes stretching. You will give me maximum effort, or I will
severely punish you. Repeated offenses will send you straight to jail and I
spread your pornographic pictures to every person living in this city," she says
matter-of-factly as we pull into the gym parking lot.
For the next two hours, she nearly kills me. I had always worked out at a high
level, but nothing like this. She concentrates on my shoulders, chest, triceps,
hamstrings and abs today, introducing me to heavy weights and something she
calls "super sets." She explains that we will alternate days, working on the
back, lats, biceps, thighs, ass, and calves tomorrow. By the time we are done, I
believe that my chest and shoulders will explode. I look in the mirror and I can
already notice the slightly enhanced curves of my shoulders and arms.
Next comes the stair master. Although I run hard 4-5 days per week, I realize
that I am unprepared for the stair machine. Brittany sets the machine for an
extremely high level, pushing me to my limits. The muscles in my legs and ass
are killing me, and my lungs are screaming for more oxygen. I am a wreck by the
end of the workout.
We move to an un-used aerobics room, where she assists me with my new stretching
routine. Believe me when I tell you that this is not what I consider routine
stretching. She helps me into positions that stretch the muscles that we
concentrated on today. We move to stretches help me spread my legs wider, bend
my back further, and pull my elbows together. Using yoga techniques, she helps
me use my breathing to stretch my muscles much more effectively. She is
certainly knowledgeable.
We stop by the juice bar, where she grabs an orange juice for her and a low fat,
high protein shake for me. She also grabs a high protein nutrition bar for me. I
am feeling so hungry that the shake and protein bar are completely scarfed by
the time we reach the car.
"Take off your stretch pants before you get in the car," she requests as she
opens her door. I freeze-up. What if someone sees me? What a cruel bitch she is.
Humiliated, I take off my pants as quickly as possible.
Naked except for my sports bra, socks and sneakers, I pull on the door handle.
It is locked. I pull again and again in a fit of growing panic. "Open the door
before I am seen. You must open it." Then I realize I have broken her rules.
Shit, not only am I humiliated beyond belief, but I now know I will be punished.
She smiles as she hits the automatic lock button. I jump in the car and shut the
door, all the while staring down in defeat. "What number of strokes are we up
to, slut?" she asks.
"Nine, Mistress," I respond.
"Correct. We will take care of that a little later. I beg you to break more
rules so I can add ten more," she grinned wickedly. "Here is your final workout.
You will do this everyday on your drive home after your workout. You will stick
your fingers into your pussy. You will then squeeze them as tightly as you can
with your vagina muscles. Squeeze for five seconds, relax for ten. We will start
today with my fingers. Each time I don't feel you squeezing, I will add a stoke
to your punishment. And knowing how much of a slut you are and how excited you
will probably get, you should remember not to cum without permission. Go ahead,
start your workout."
She dips two fingers into my already lubricated pussy. I struggle with the task,
working hard on muscles that I never consciously attempted to use before. She
wiggles her fingers every minute or so, torching my sex with excitement. By the
time we are nearing the house, I was grunting in an effort to squeeze.
Her hand withdraws as we pull to a stop. She lifts her hand up to my lips and I
knew what she wanted done. I licked my fuck juice off of her fingers until she
is satisfied. I do not even mind the taste on her fingers, though the act still
sends a wave of repulsion through me. As I get out of my seat, you can see the
shimmering puddle I had left.
"Lick up that mess before you come inside, fuck toy"
Being almost completely naked, I had no desire to show my wears any longer than
I had to. I lick up my mess as quickly as possible. How low have I sunk?
Brittany was waiting for me in the kitchen when I returned. "Bend over and grab
your ankles," she commanded. With a wooden spoon, she proceeds to stripe my ass
nine times. Being a bit tender from my previous punishments, I had to work to
hold back my tears and count the strokes. But how it hurt.
"You may go and relieve yourself. Then report to the bedroom for further
instructions."
I dared not sit, both from her previous instructions as well as pain from my
still stinging ass. I walked as quickly as I could to my bedroom. "Put on these
clothes and do all of the chores which I have on this list. Be done by 6:00 p.m.
Anything left undone, or done half-assed, will bring on more punishment. I will
be watching from the computer, so be a good girl." With that, she marched out of
the room.
Lying on the bed is a skimpy maid's outfit. I struggle with my stiff muscles to
strip out of my sports bra and sneakers. I change into the tiny black dress,
which is made of stretchy material. It also has built-in support for my breasts,
much like a wonder bra. It takes some effort to get into. My breasts are
squeezed together and up, causing them to nearly pop out of the plunging
neckline. I will have to be careful. I tie on the tiny little white apron, wrap
the white choker around my neck, then roll up the fishnet stockings and attach
them to the garters hanging from the inside waistband of the dress. I lock on
the patent leather stiletto heels
My reflection tells volumes about who I have become. I see a sex slut staring me
dead in the face. The skirt is so short that you can see the tops of my
stockings. If I bend over, my red ass and bald pussy are on full view. And the
dress did nothing to hide my semi-erect nipples.
The list is long. I must clean dishes, scrub the kitchen and bathroom floors,
clean toilets, wash the windows, wash the clothes (both hers and mine), change
the sheets on my bed and several other things. I have no time to waste.
The hours stretch on as I work. My arms and legs are dead tired and ache with
every move. Yet I speed through my tasks, and I expect to finish everything on
the list, with time to spare.
Every click of these outrageous heels, every time I bend and expose my sore ass,
every time a boob pops out the top of my dress, and each and every time I catch
my reflection in a mirror, I am reminded of the sex toy that I have become. The
competing forces inside me leave me paralyzed with confusion. The way I look,
the way I am treated, the utter helplessness of my situation is keeping me
buzzing with unwelcome arousal. This is wrong. It is not moral. I am ashamed. I
have never acted this way, or felt this way before, so my arousal is not my
fault, it is Brittany's. Or is it?
So even if she is taking control of my body, I can still keep control of my
mind. I will become strong again and not allow her to penetrate my psyche
anymore.
I knock on the open door of my home office. Brittany waves me in and commands me
to kneel by my desk. She continues to work on the computer as I kneel quietly.
"Do you want to see this terrific new web site? Come here and see this thing,"
she said with girlish excitement. I look up as she navigates the computer screen
to a site called "mylesbianfucktoy.com". She clicks through the password section
and starts clicking on the thumbnail pictures.
"Look at this one," she said. It looked familiar for some reason. It was a rear
view of a bent over woman. You could not see her face, but you could make out
her gaping sex and her plugged ass.
"Look at how hot this one is," Brittany says as she opens another photo. This
one features a woman, her face digitally scrambled, with her wrists secured
above her head, her proud breasts and long erect nipples being paddled.
Something familiar struck me about the picture.
"And look at this one," she said as a third photo loads on screen. This is in a
shower. I see the back of a thin, sexy woman with her hands locked over the
shower head, and an enema tube sticking out of her ass.
Then, like a freight train, it hit me. These are pictures of me. I let out a
loud gasp and starting crying.
"I see you recognize the star," she asked while clicking open more photos. "This
site has already received over 125,000 hits in just one day. Don't worry; this
is not open to the public. You have to buy a membership to log on. What a real
moneymaker you are, by the way. All the money is being credited directly into
your money market account." She clicks open an endless stream of humiliating
photos, each one showing in detail my humiliating slide into depravity. Despite
my best efforts, she is stealing my soul.
With her free hand, Brittany reaches down the front of my dress and starts to
massage my right nipple. All the while, she keeps showing me photos of my
dripping pussy, my smacked red ass, my clamped nipples, etc.. Even while I cry,
the photos and the manipulation of my nipple has me excited in no time flat.
"Do you remember this one? This was the last time you came. That must have
seemed a year ago, fuck toy," she said with obvious joy as the picture of my
fucking the dildo on her window popped up on screen. The picture was
devastating. What an evil girl.
"Pet, I want a few more for today. I want you to lie on your back and play with
your pussy and clit. I want you to get real excited, but you are not to cum
without permission. Make it last" Wiping away my tears, I lie on my back and
lift up my dress. Brittany's video camera is set up on the tripod, poised to
catch my every action. My pussy lips are already soaked as I use two fingers to
slowly finger fuck myself. Brittany watches me for a while as I work my sex. I
heat up to a boil in just a few minutes. In short order, I am grinding my hips
into my hand and panting like a bitch in heat. I need to cum so bad I am about
to have a total melt down. Yet she keeps me going. I fight the urge to cum. The
punishments hurt so badly, I can't take another round today. My need is tearing
away at my will. I fight with every ounce of energy. I feel dizzy with need. I
feel light headed. Before I know it, Brittany is leaning over me, splashing cold
water on my face.
"Wow. You are full of surprises. You passed out on me. You are certainly an
entertaining fuck toy, aren't you?" she asked mockingly. "Go take another
shower. Remember, no cumming. I am just looking for an excuse to show your face
in these pictures and send a note to the media. Wouldn't they enjoy seeing your
hot, nasty body? I did not even get a chance to show you these video clips."
"After your shower, I want you to apply a conservative amount of make-up and I
want your hair done up nicely. We are going out to dinner to a very fancy place,
and even though you are a slut, inside and out, I don't want you to embarrass me
by looking like one tonight. Hurry up, we are leaving at 7:00 pm."
I finish my shower quickly, avoiding my sex and nipples to keep from
distraction. I do my hair and apply my make-up, then enter the bedroom. Brittany
is waiting for me.
"Before you put on your dress, I have a few items for you to wear." She grabs my
left nipple and toys with it. My tit is so sensitive that even the briefest
touch sends it to full erection. Once she is satisfied with how large it is, she
takes out a tiny rubber band and places it over my nipple, wrapping it around
the base. It is not painfully tight, but it will keep the nipple fully engorged
and hypersensitive. She repeats this with my other nipple. She hands me a
beautiful lacy 1/4-cup bra. Once fastened, my breasts are lifted high on my
chest with my nipples pointing the way. I glance at the mirror, and with my tits
presented as they are, I look like a sex doll.
She then asks me to step into a tiny little g-sting. As she pulls it into place,
I notice a small, flat device, which she carefully places over my clit.
"Now put on the dress and the heels and meet me down stairs. We are running
late."
I slip the black dress on. It is beautiful, conservative number made of silk. It
fits me perfectly, not too tight, but enough to show off my curvås. When I bend
down to fasten my heels, I feel my sensitive nipples rub the fabric, and I
almost scream out from the intense sensation. Geez, this is going to be another
long evening. The heels are about four inches; very manageable in comparison to
the stilettos I have been wearing lately.
She hands me my purse as we rush out to the car. Each step causes my boobs to
move, rubbing my nipples in a soft, tortuous dance. My slit is wet and I will
have to fight hard to keep from getting my dress wet. Before we start out of the
long driveway, she takes a small box out of her pocket. She thumbs a switch and
slides a lever. My panties jump to life, silently vibrating my clit. I squeal
out at the intensity and my hands grip the seat as if I might fall off. She
thumbs down the control to a low, constant buzz. I look over to her, begging for
mercy with my eyes. She flicks the device off and starts the car. I find my
breath and start to comprehend what I am in store for today.
Without any conversation, we pull into Reflections, a restaurant with beautiful
fountains and waterfalls. It is the place to be if you want to network with the
rich and powerful. She could not have picked a more compromising place.
"You are to introduce me to all of your friends in the most flattering terms
possible. You will address me as Brittany until we leave. You will do everything
I ask. Do you understand?"
Yes, Mistress," I meekly respond. The valet takes the car and the maitre' de
greets me at the door as an old friend. I introduce him to Brittany, a very
talented young lady whom he should get to know. On our way to our table, I stop
here and there, saying hello and introducing Brittany with all the charm I can
muster. All the while, my nipples keep brushing the silky material. I wonder if
everyone in the room can see my fat nipples poking my dress or smell the arousal
leaking from my pussy.
We sit along a far wall, with me sitting with my back to the wall. It is a
semi-secluded spot, private enough to hold discrete power conversations but
public enough to still be seen my the other elite diners.
The menu and wine list are delivered, and as soon as the waiter leaves the
table, I feel my clit start to vibrate. It is a low hum, enough to rev my engine
but not enough to blow my gaskets. My body temperature rises along with my
arousal. I struggle to order when the waiter returns. Brittany orders me to
clasp my hands behind me as she watches me. She engages me in conversation about
work as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening. She is cooking me in my
own sexual stew and she acts as if this is just a normal business dinner.
She flips off the vibrator as we eat. Once we finish, she quietly orders told me
to take the small pair of thumb cuffs from my purse. I am to pull my hands
behind me and cuff my thumbs together. It takes a bit of struggle, but I do as I
am told.
So here I sit, my mistress using a remote vibrator to speed me towards the brink
of orgasm, then stopping just in time to keep me from achieving the painfully
needed cum. A light sweat beads my forehead and my chest as I struggle to keep
my composure. She slowly works on the bottle of wine that we had ordered,
talking to me conversationally about this and that. And she plays with that damn
switch. On again. Off again. On again. Off again. I am struggling not to moan.
My breathing has quickened and I wonder if anyone notices. Every breath rubs my
excited nipples. Panic rises up as I realize that I am about to lose my mind.
(to be continued)
