BDSM Library - Enslaved by my Daughter

Enslaved by my Daughter

Provided By: BDSM Library
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Synopsis: Cassandra, a successful lawyer, is taken by surprise by her daughter Carrie, and turned into a complete slave. She is eventually humiliated, exposed to her family, her friends and neighbors her fellow employees at the law firm where she is employed. She is ultimately further and further humiliated and degraded, until Carrie has taken her entire life away from her. I am Carrie, the daughter, and my mother is my slave property in real life. many of the things in the story really happened. But this is not the way it actually happened, it is really an early fantasy of mine, from \"before\", about how it MIGHT happen.

Enslaved by my Daughter – part 1.


My name is Carrie. I was Cassandra’s daughter, then became her Mistress and Owner. When this actually began a couple of years ago, I directed her to keep a journal of her “journey”.


I’ve had a dominant nature as long as I can remember, and as far as I can tell all of the women in our family are the dominant sort (including mom until now). I don’t mean necessarily acting as sexual Dommes (but I don’t know for sure), just confident and sure of themselves and getting people to do what they wanted them to do. And I have been doing that too since I was young, always “in charge” with my friends and leading what we did. And as my sexual awakening took place, it wasn’t long before I realized I was more attracted to girls than to boys. Currently my best friend Hilary is my slave (but alpha over mom). I don’t remember exactly when this idea of making mom my sub or slave first occurred to me but it was long ago, perhaps when I was 14 or 15, and I’ve been thinking and planning ever since, and now I’ve made it a reality. It actually happened when I turned 18. I think even at the start I intended it to be a long and difficult journey for her and it has been just that. Now she is entirely some other creature than what she was before.


She has followed my direction on this journal and I think what she’s written gives a partial but clear picture of what she became and how it happened to her. Now she is gone and it is time to publish this; to share it with everyone either of us have known, friends, relatives, everyone; to post it for the whole world to read. Eventually the videos and pictures I took to record her progress will be available as well, but first the story.


At a point I had to take over the journal, since she was no longer physically able to do it anymore, but we will get to that in time . . .


*********************************************


At the beginning . . .


My name is Cassandra. I am keeping this journal at the direction of my daughter Carrie. She says it’s time I informed the world of my status as her slave. She has told me I must tell my story in every detail, from the very beginning. Carrie wants the whole world to see what I’ve become, what she made me into. As you read this it will become clear why I obey her in this, humiliating as it is for me.

_____________________________


Something happened only a few weeks ago that changed my life, my very existence. And I now feel it will be a permanent change, and that it will be so much deeper than I could have ever imagined. And I’m a little frightened of Carrie now, and what she will do to me. Carrie was graduating from high school, and that was when everything happened. She told me I must start this journal before “that night” and continue making entries whenever she told me I must, and I know that I must do exactly as she directs me or the consequences will be severe.


I am (well, I WAS) a high-achieving professional woman, a successful partner of a medium-sized law firm. I enjoyed my work, I enjoyed the power it gave me, and I enjoyed USING that power. I enjoyed dressing very well and always did, I enjoyed the many friends and professional contacts I have made and I enjoyed the many wonderful things that power and money brought me and I was proud of who I was and what I’d achieved. I am still employed there, but I sense that things there will be changing, as far as my position and status.


I also enjoyed a “secret life” of sexuality and kinky BDSM play (always in a Domme role, just as I was in my real life) and relationships, among some very satisfying vanilla relationships. I was active on the computer, exchanging e-mails (but always discreet and “under cover”) and saving stories, photos and videos (and writing stories) until I accumulated quite a large collection. I often “enjoyed” myself browsing these things and various web sites late at night, and exchanging e-mails with like-minded people. I made sure I was VERY discreet with this. I certainly didn’t want my daughter Carrie ever suspecting this about me. In retrospect, I think at some time she must have accessed my computer and discovered my other life as a Domme. It could explain some of what happened later.


Since my husband and I divorced several years ago, Carrie and I have lived a normal life, successful working mom and young, popular daughter. We were the “model” mom and daughter, that’s how our friends and neighbors all saw us and that’s how I believed it was. I thought I had the very best of both my worlds. Sure, Carrie was often a stubborn, headstrong child, but aren’t they ALL to some degree. Once she was in high school it seemed to get worse, not so much in public but certainly at home, and by the time she was a senior in high school she acted like she was in charge of the house. Of course I didn’t let that happen, so we argued and she sulked, but we always got over it and made up. Outside the house she was always the loving, devoted daughter, impressing all our friends and neighbors with her poise and maturity. But still, more and more often I “gave in” and let her have her way. Now I wonder if she was deliberately leading me into a mindset of having her in authority.


In the few months before her graduation, however, she became just as docile and mellow at home too, and I felt great relief. Perhaps she had grown out of her willfulness I thought. I should say that just before this change in her demeanor we had a dreadful argument, fight really, since I ended up slapping her face. What started it was this:

She had always talked about going to college after she graduated from high school, and had picked a very good school here in the city. Expensive, but I could easily afford it, we were very comfortable financially, and she intended to attend law school as well, and follow in my footsteps as a lawyer. She told me she had decided to take a year off before going and I was soooo angry with her. I gave her all the standard arguments on why this was a bad idea, but she was adamant. We shouted back and forth for several minutes and that’s when I slapped her, HARD, it made tears well up in her eyes and I immediately felt awful and said, “I’m sorry honey, I’m really sorry.” She just gave me a cold stare and replied, “not as sorry as you’re GOING to be mom . . . you’ll regret that”. I knew I’d gone too far, but it couldn’t be undone now. The next day it seemed to be forgotten and she suddenly became the loving daughter again, and we didn’t argue again.


And in my guilt I may have started letting her have “her way” more often, and it seemed natural since she had grown so much more cooperative and understanding. I even told her that I would get her an internship for the year at our firm, and if she decided to go to school after all, leaving it would be no problem. And if she stayed for the whole year it would provide valuable experience and contacts. I had reconciled myself to the idea that she would do as she wished regarding college, and I had no doubt that she would do it when she felt the time was right for her, and that she would do well and be very successful in her life.


She even wanted a video made of us talking together, her “interviewing” me as a style. My niece, Carrie’s cousin was a professional videographer, so Carrie suggested that we have Kelly make the video for us. Carrie said she wanted some “private time” with the Kelly also, to record some of her thoughts about our relationship, and that I should do the same. She said it would make a nice graduation keepsake for both of us. It sounded like a wonderful idea and of course I agreed and we had it done.


She was being so nice lately and her 18th birthday was coming up a few days after her graduation, so I asked her what she wanted as a gift for both big occasions. She just said, “Oh don’t worry mom, I’ve got something in mind, but it might be too much”. Things had been so good between us lately that I told her, “anything you want, Carrie honey, anything, just let me know”. She smiled a wry smile and said, “I know mom, ANYTHING. I’ll let you know, but let’s drop it for now”. “I’m going over to Hil’s now mom”, she said, “I’ll be back later tonight”. “Hil” is Hilary our next door neighbor and Carrie’s best friend. Her mom is a good friend of mine, perhaps my best friend. A little controlling with her daughter I thought, but still very nice with me, a good friend.


For Carrie’s graduation day, she had wanted to have a party at our house and I had agreed. Finally, the big day arrived, and after the ceremony I headed home, assuming that Carrie would soon follow. There were a couple of hours between the ceremony and the party so I had a drink with some other parents I knew before I went back to the house to change and make sure everything was ready, and I was surprised to find Carrie and Hilary already there. Carrie had some tools out, which puzzled me, and when she saw me looking at them she said, “I was just fixing up something here, mom, nothing to be concerned about”. She did help me with things around the house and we were both handy enough with tools that I thought no more about it. “We need to get changed now mom”, she said, then she and Hilary went upstairs to her room. I remembered that I needed to get changed too.


I should tell you that Carrie and I are almost exactly the same size, right down to shoe size. She is an athlete at school and I take pains to stay fit too, so our bodies are almost a matching pair in spite of the 20-year age difference. We’re both 5 foot 11 and I weigh 160 pounds. Carrie is exactly the same height, but with a couple inches more bust and hip, and a couple inches less waist, and she weighs 165. I’m an auburn brunette and she is streaked dark blonde, each with complexions to match the hair color, but other than coloring, we really look a lot alike. I often wish someone would mistake us for sisters instead of mother and daughter, and people do occasionally say something to that effect. And all of the other women in my family have a similar size and look; my 2 sisters are 5 foot 11 and 5 foot 10, my mother is 5 foot 9 and her sister (my aunt) is the same size. And Carrie has some cousins (male and female both) that have the same “look”. I have to say that we are all very fit and attractive (vanity perhaps, but there are too many comments to see it any other way). My mom is 62 and she could pass for my age. And my mother and I have been mistaken for sisters a couple of times too. And my aunt 64, looks almost as young. We all do eat right and exercise, but I’m sure good genetics plays the main role.


Yesterday Carrie had asked me if she could wear some of my clothes for her party, and flattered, I agreed. She and I picked through my closet and she picked a sexy black dress with the hem at mid-thigh (a little short, a little snug, I thought . . . and a bit too revealing . . . always the mom) but she looked absolutely wonderful in it, some black sheer thigh-top stockings and a pair of my black pumps with 5 inch heels. I blushed when she went to pick through my bras and panties, but I didn’t stop her. She looked so good in her (my) outfit that I decided to dress almost exactly the same . . . no problem since I have a lot of really nice clothing. Carrie went back to the main room, and as I dressed I had to laugh at myself. I must have been wishing for the “sisters” look again. Still I go ahead and finish dressing and go out to the main room. Our condo is an “open plan”, and the living area, dining area and kitchen are all in one big space. Cathedral ceilings too, so the room seems huge and it IS very large, the perfect spot for Carrie’s party.


Carrie and Hilary are already dressed and there, standing near one of the sofas. I wonder if I’ve seen Carrie look this way before; so, well “grown up”, so beautiful . . . and I hate to say it of my own daughter, but very SEXY. Hilary is standing right next to Carrie. She is taller than Carrie by a couple of inches, 6 foot or a bit more, and a good bit more “buxom”. But she is an athlete too, and she definitely does NOT look fat or too heavy, just shapely and solid. I suspect she’s much stronger than either Carrie or I, but her body is soft and curvaceously feminine. Her hair is a long, curly red, a “strawberry blonde”. It just hits me that she, too is absolutely beautiful. She is wearing almost exactly the same thing as Carrie, except white in color. But her clothing is all just a little too short, a little too tight, etc. and I wish I could have helped her dress. As I look at her I realize WHY her things are too small, they are MINE too. She and Carrie must have taken them from my closet sometime. Oh well, it’s a big day for them both . . . I won’t spoil it. As I come in they are whispering to each other and they look at me and giggle. I come over to them and ask, “well girls, what’s so funny”? Hilary flushes with embarrassment, but Carrie says, “oh nothing mom, hey . . . I’ve decided what I want for my graduation and birthday gift”. I ask, “what honey”? Carrie says, “you mom”. I don’t understand at first and give her a puzzled, questioning look. She says, “YOU mom”, and with that Hilary throws me down onto the sofa, and straddles my waist pinning my arms and body down. I was right, she IS strong, unfortunately much stronger than I am. I twist and buck and kick my legs wildly as I shout, “GIRLS . . . what the hell is . . . “. I can’t finish what I was saying because just then Carrie presses a folded cloth over my nose and mouth and leans on it hard. I try to twist my head away but she’s strong too, and I smell the chloroform. In a few seconds my struggles weaken and as I’m losing consciousness, the last thing I see is Carrie’s smiling face staring hungrily at me as she says, “my graduation gift is . . . you mom . . . YOU!”


A stinging slap in the face wakes me from my stupor. My head aches from the after-effects of the chloroform. I’m uncomfortable and feel strange, it’s hard to move. As I gain a clearer consciousness I take in my surroundings and my situation. I’m in the living room where the party is being held suspended by my wrists right in the center of the room. I feel tight leather cuffs around my wrists and they feel pressure matched by the tension in my arms. They are pulled up overhead by a hoist hanging from the ceiling of the room. (So THAT’S what they were doing with those tools . . . why didn’t I see anything THEN?) My legs are spread wide apart, making my dress slide up until my thighs are exposed above the tops of my hose, and my pretty black thong threatens to peek out from beneath my dress. I strain to keep my balance because of my heels. I can feel snug leather cuffs around my ankles too. I try to pull my legs together for firmer footing, but I can’t do it. They must have me fastened me this way. I’m SOOOO angry at those girls, and as I start to give them a piece of my mind, I want to say, “YOU GIRLS TURN ME LOOSE RIGHT NOW”! What comes out is, “ewghh ghhhlls urn eee ooss iiigh oww”. My jaw aches because my mouth is clamped open wide by a large ring-gag they’ve inserted and tied tight. I work my tongue trying to push it out. Hilary is standing next to me watching me and she says, “that’s so cute Ms. Bennett, but you should relax . . . your tongue will get tons of exercise later”, and giggles. Carrie comes over right in front of me and stands so close our bodies are touching. She smiles as she looks into my face and says, “thanks mom . . . you are such a great gift”! She reaches around behind me and gives me a sharp, stinging slap on the rear. The pain makes me say, “eeowpp”. “You look great mom, my guests will be so impressed with your gift to me”, she adds.


Just then the doorbell rings and Carrie says, “Hil, will you get that for me”. I’m sure Hilary is much stronger than Carrie PHYSICALLY, and could take her down in minutes, but PSYCHOLOGICALLY Carrie is by far the stronger. She has always been the leader with Hilary, and Hilary the happy, willing follower, always taking orders and doing things for Carrie. Carrie then says, “oh, and Hil, tell Kelly to start recording the video now, right from the start.” Oh no . . . NOOOO . . . not video of this, I thought. I was sure Carrie was going to blackmail me with it later.


“My god”, I’m thinking then, “WHO will be coming”, as I rack my brain trying to remember all the names on the guest list. I let Carrie make it out since I was sure she would know to include all the people I wanted to be there, and just gave it a cursory glance. I don’t continue that thought, this since I know it will ALL be too humiliating for me to deal with . . . but what choice do I have? My eyes well up and tears start to flow down my cheeks. WHAT will happen to me now? The doorbell rings, guests begin to come in, the room fills. I’m so humiliated I just look down at the floor, I can’t, just CAN’T face people this way. I hear the conversation, so many familiar, identifiable voices . . . my god, how could something like this happen to me? Only a couple of hours ago everything was NORMAL . . . and NOW!


I realize the room is filled now . . . I’ve heard the normal party conversations, everyone congratulating Carrie and Hilary and the other new grads here. Then I hear Carrie announcing loudly, “O.K. everyone . . . I’m going to open my BIG gift from mom now”. She stands in front of me again, reaches around grabbing the back of my hair and jerks by head back so I’m forced to look straight ahead. “Mom, you’re embarrassing me in front of my guests, I expect you to keep your head up, make eye contact and thank people who compliment you by nodding your head”. “You’d better do it”, she says, and I feel a burning on my hip and a bolt of electricity course through me. My body shudders in agony and I scream “EEEEEEEE” through my opened mouth. “Sorry mom, but you HAVE to obey me now . . . I hope you won’t make me do that again”, she says as she wipes the flow of fresh tears off my face. As everyone gathers around me I see the “thing” in her hand . . . some sort of tazer or cattle-prod device. My heart is pounding and I still feel the ghost of that intense pain. I know I’ll try to avoid another jolt, whatever it takes.


To be continued . . .

Enslaved by my Daughter – part 2


“Everyone gather round”, Carrie says, “Time for me to open my gift”. I see she is holding a big butcher knife and for a few seconds my blood runs cold, and I let out a low desperate moan through my wide-open mouth, but I keep looking out into the crowd. She’ll do what she’ll do and I can’t stop anything now. She slips the knife under my dress and slices upwards slitting the entire front open, then cuts through the straps, and it falls to the floor. Then she slices off my beautiful silk bra, and then my silk thong. She slips the knife under the top of a stocking and slices down and I feel the blade gliding down my leg . . . not cutting, but I can feel the cold sharpness of it and it freezes my body into immobility. Then the other stocking. She cuts and pulls them off at my ankles. Now I’m stark naked, suspended in front of dozens of people, my mouth wide open and my legs spread. How could anyone possibly be more helpless and exposed. There is a murmur of appreciation from the guests, and I get a flash of pride in my body, but it horrifies me and I quickly suppress the thought. My body flushes from embarrassment, and I shiver, but I can feel that my nipples are hard as little rocks and my vagina is wet and “blossoming”. And somehow the idea that this situation could arouse me is more humiliating than anything else I can think of.


“Go ahead everyone, take a closer look”, Carrie says, “and feel free to inspect and handle my gift all you want to . . . I’m sure it’s what she would want you to do”. I shake my head wildly from side to side. ”No, NO . . . NO!”, I’m thinking, but I don’t think anyone even notices my protest. I feel a hand, then more hands, then . . .


I see Carrie watching me sternly to be sure I keep my head up and make eye contact with everyone. My god, how awful it is. All these people . . . and not strangers either! Carrie’s fellow graduates, most of whom I know, come by staring, fondling, pinching, probing my mouth, ass and pussy. Saying things like, “wow Ms. Walker, you look really hot that way”, “I always wondered what you looked like naked”, “God, I’d love to fuck you”. And Hilary’s mom, Jessica . . . she smirked at me and said, “you know, you got what you deserved, letting Carrie be so willful”. But I saw lust in her eyes even as she smirked at my predicament. She was almost her daughter’s height, perhaps just as tall, with an athletic body, but a bit more “trim” than Hilary. She had dark brown hair in a sort of bob or page-boy cut, and the deepest, darkest eyes. She slipped her fingers between my spread legs and up into me, and pulled them out holding them right in front of my face. To my embarrassment, they were dripping wet. She smiled and said, “well Cassandra, it looks as if you LIKE being displayed this way”. I shook my head no, but she laughed and stuck her fingers, wet with MY juices, into my mouth and wiped them on my tongue. I flushed with humiliation and tears welled in my eyes. Jessica was my best FRIEND . . . what in the world was she thinking about me now?


Some of Carrie’s teachers, both men and women, came to “inspect” me and make comments. Other friends and neighbors and some who were strangers (to ME, Carrie must know them). But worst of all were my ex with his new wife. Also my assistant at work, but thank God no one else from my firm was there. My ex and I had an acrimonious parting, and my lawyer had really squeezed him hard financially. He looked me in the eye, smiling broadly, and said, “Well hon, I see little Carrie’s got you just where you belong, spread out for everyone to see just what a slut you are”. He gave my bare ass a HARD, stinging slap and turned away to socialize. I noticed then he seemed to be especially friendly with Carrie (I didn’t even know they had stayed in touch after the divorce), Hilary and her mom, Jessica.


Lauren, my executive assistant, came over to me with a smirky smile on her face. She had always been a bit surly with me, and I never knew why. She was an outstanding paralegal and very good at her job so I put up with her insubordinate attitude. When she came up to me, she immediately reached out, grasped one of my nipples firmly and digging a long, sharp nail into it squeezed HARD. She squeezed for a long time, smiling, enjoying my shrill screams and my futile attempts to squirm away from her grasp. Through my tears I could see that most of the others were watching . . . and laughing. “Now I’ll have YOUR job at the firm”, she said, “and you can see me in YOUR office when Carrie brings you there for visits.” WHAT?”, I think. Carrie wouldn’t be so heartless . . . would she? It hit me hard then that I had no idea, NONE, what was inside my daughters head . . . or WHAT she was capable of. An involuntary shudder of fear ran through my body. As it turned out, Lauren was only tormenting me, she didn’t have my job after all. I was still her boss in all professional matters at the firm . . . but for everything else, she was my boss. And she kept an eye on me for Carrie while I was at work.


It seemed like hours of hanging there being eyed lustfully, fondled, probed and slapped. My arms ached from supporting much of my body weight, my throat ached from screaming and trying to speak through that horrible ring-gag. I wondered when it would end . . . and then what would happen next. Then I found out . . . Carrie announced, “my friend, Becca, is giving me such a neat present too . . . well it’s kind of for mom and me both”. “Some of might know she works at the tattoo place in the mall, and she does piercing, and she’s going to do some for me now.” “Oh no”, I think, “my beautiful daughter is going to disfigure herself with PIERCINGS”. Of course I was wrong. Becca came over to ME with her swabs, needles and “jewelry”. “Oh god”, I thought, “oh NO”! Carrie said, “remember what we discussed, Bec . . . do it just that way, all nice small, thin titanium rings”. Becca cradled my left breast, kissed it, and said, “wow Ms. Walker, these are really nice”, then she began. Taking my nipple in a pair of open-nosed “piercing” forceps, she clamped down hard, then pushed a large needle through, just at the base of the nipple. I screamed and squealed, but the pain wasn’t really the only thing, more the indignity of having this done to me with all of these people watching. Becca had brought a lot of those little rings with her, and she just kept putting them into me. I screamed, I cried, I struggled as best I could . . . but all to no avail. She just kept on with her work as if I were a customer in her shop. I ended up with rings through the tip of my tongue, one in the septum of my nose, one in each nipple, and four along each of my outer labia. Carrie, standing nearby and watching intently, said to me, “I like the pussy rings, don’t you mom? . . . I can use them to keep you closed up tight or OPENED up wide”. I hung there in pain and shame. I was now “ringed”.


Then I heard Carrie say, “Hil, help me out here”. I immediately felt a steady pull on my ankles, pulling my legs even FURTHER apart. I squealed, trying to beg my daughter for mercy, and struggled to keep my balance as my feet were spread until they were completely off the ground and my arms supported my entire body weight. Then the pain in my shoulders was excruciating. I began screaming again, but still the pulling continued until my legs were spread so wide I thought they were being pulled from my hips. The tendons and muscles in my crotch and inner thighs stretched until I thought I would split wide open, and they burned with pain. Oh I screamed and tried to beg Carrie to stop as best I could, but not too effectively really. It was a reflex, deep down I knew that if she had done THIS to me, she would My legs were spread almost horizontally now and I tried to squirm myself into a position that would relieve the ache, but I was so stretched out I could only quiver helplessly and gasp and sob as tears rolled down my cheeks. I’m sure my humiliation, my agony, my exposed and helpless body were arousing everyone.


But there was more. Hilary came over and handed Carrie a large shiny metal object, teardrop shaped with a clip on the end. Carrie smiled at me as she clipped it onto my new tongue ring. As she slowly lowered her hand away I felt how HEAVY the thing was, It stretched my tongue far, far out of my mouth and down, as it hung between my breasts. I quickly felt saliva dripping down between my breasts and running down across my belly. The awful exposure and humiliation . . . in front of my FRIENDS (well, and enemies too apparently) was almost unbearable Tears ran from my eyes endlessly as I gasped and sobbed. How could my beautiful, loving daughter DO this to me?


Carrie came and stood beside me, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me against her, my left leg crossing her body above her knees. Then I saw flashes . . . MY GOD, they were all taking pictures of me! I heard comments like, “smile Carrie, I want a picture of you with your graduation gift”. I had run out of energy for screams and just gasped and sobbed as the guests snapped photos. As if the video recording wasn’t bad enough. I’d never be able to show my face to these people again, I thought. I didn’t know it yet, but there was worse was to come.


Carrie announced to the group, “Why don’t you all select a whip, strap or paddle from the table behind mom.” “O.K. now, have at her, as hard as you want”, she said. I squealed loudly and tried to squirm, but spread as wide as I was I really couldn’t move much. Then it began. First a few strokes from someone, then more, and soon the blows of whip and strap were endless on my ass, legs and breasts. I saw and FELT Hilary whipping me . . . god that girl was STRONG. Then Hilary’s mom Jessica, my friend I had thought; she worked over my tender inner thighs and vagina, bringing her thin strap up hard between my helplessly spread legs. And my assistant Lauren followed suit. Among the worst were my ex and his new wife . . . terrible pain and humiliation too. Of course all of our neighbors, Carrie’s fellow grads, EVERYONE had a go at me. I had thought I was a good friend, mother, co-worker and neighbor, but apparently I wasn’t universally perceived that way. I heard almost everyone comment something like “this is what she deserves, don’t you think?”, “thought she was better than everyone”, “I always thought she was a slut!”, “I like her better this way, don’t you?” and, “Oh yeah, Carrie was right to do this!”


I screamed and screamed, my throat burning, feeling the unrelenting pain in my body. I must have passed out several times, but Carrie revived me. Finally she called a halt and said, “now it’s MY turn”. She leaned close to my face and whispered in my ear, “this is only the beginning mom; I’m going to train you to be my absolute slave, to do any awful, disgusting thing I want you to do.” Then she gave me a tender kiss on the cheek, licking a bit at my tears, and began whipping me, ass, thighs, breasts, it was so unbelievably painful. The smile on her face and the intense look in her eyes made me realize I was lost. The pain . . . THE PAIN! And from my own daughter . . . what had I done wrong . . . what had I done to her to deserve this. She is a strong young woman and she used all of that strength in whipping me!  When I passed out the last time it was over for the evening. Of course it had all been recorded digitally, as well as the guests snapping more photos of my humiliation and abuse, but there was never time for me to think about that. Now it was sweet, merciful unconsciousness for me.


I blinked myself groggily awake, thinking it’s time to get up and fix breakfast. It takes only a second to remember yesterday and understand my present situation. I lie on a mattress on the floor of my former walk-in closet . . . I recognize it although all of my clothes are gone now, just bare walls and my mattress. I’m so sore and stiff, but I can’t stretch and limber myself up. My arms are bound tight behind me, strapped together tightly at wrists and elbows. It’s VERY uncomfortable. My legs are strapped tightly together too, at ankle, knee and mid-thigh. But the worst is what I feel between my legs. I feel absolutely stuffed in my lower abdomen. Later I find that I’ve been “wearing” large, inflatable plugs in my pussy and ass, and they’ve been pumped up to the size of grapefruits. It HURTS. My jaw aches too . . . my mouth has been filled with an inflated gag so that I must struggle to breathe. My entire body burns from the intense whippings I received yesterday night. It all rushes back to me, so real it almost seems to be happening again . . . the exposure, the pain, the humiliation. I’m too trussed up and exhausted to even cry, but tears well up and run down my face. What will happen to me next, I wonder?


Then Hilary walks into the room, and I’m so glad to see her. I sense that she is the only person who MIGHT take some pity on me . . . she’s really a sweet girl. She kneels beside me, deflating and removing that awful gag, as she says, “Hi Ms. Walker”. I gasp for breathe for a while, then when I can speak, I say to her, “oh Hilary, please, PLEASE let me go, I know you’re a sweet, wonderful girl, I know you don’t really want to do this to me, please . . .”. She says, “shhhh Ms. Bennett”, putting a hand gently but firmly over my mouth, “Ms. Bennett, you are soooo pretty . . .  I’ve had dreams about you for a long time”.



To be continued . . .



Enslaved by my Daughter – part 3


I just lay there, still trussed up helplessly, still in all sorts of pain . . . looking up at Hilary’s beautiful face as she knelt over me smiling widely. I didn’t speak right away, I needed to just breathe deep for a while as I caught my breath. But her words whirled in my mind, “I’ve dreamed about you”, she had said to me. And truth be told, I had often dreamed about HER! I had always thought of her as wonderfully sexy, since she had been quite young. In spite of what she’d just said, I wondered if I might convince her to be a bit kind to me. If I just pleaded with her, I’m a lawyer, I should be good with the right words . . . or so I thought. It turns out I didn’t know Hilary as well as I thought I did!


As soon as I got my breath back and could speak. Then my words came rushing out . . . I hoped she would give me time to say what I wanted to say to her: “Hilary dear, I’ve dreamed about YOU too! You’re so beautiful, so sweet and good-natured. I’ll give you whatever you want, just please, PLEASE help me convince Miss Carrie not to do this to me. It’s gone far enough already hasn’t it? I’ll do anything for you Hilary, ANYTHING. Just please help me . . . PLEASE!”


She smiled sweetly at me as I spoke these words, and more, begging, pleading to her good nature! But as I “ran down”, my speech made for better or worse, her expression changed. She wasn’t smiling anymore, and her lovely, sweet face had assumed a stern, “hard” expression. Then SHE spoke to me: “You don’t understand at all, do you Ms. Walker? What I dreamed about when I dreamed of you was HURTING you, making you suffer! Miss Carrie always hurts me, and I can’t stop her. I know I will always do what she wants, be what she wants me to be. I love her, Ms. Walker . . . but I DON’T love YOU! When Miss Carrie wants me to hurt you I will, and I’ll love doing it for her. I got so hot watching you yesterday, hanging there in your own living room, being punished by everyone . . . I almost orgasmed right then. I helped Miss Carrie plan this. I WANT you to be just where you are right now . . . helpless!” As she was speaking my heart was plunging in despair. The one I thought might help me was as cruel and selfish as Miss Carrie, perhaps even more so. As my tears started again, Hilary forced the ring-gag into my mouth and strapped it in tight, then the inflatable, pumping it up to a mouth-filling, jaw-stretching size. NOW she was smiling again!


She held my head so I must look straight into her face and tells me, “Miss Carrie wanted me to explain the new rules for the rest of your life, so you can understand what she requires of you. You need to listen and pay attention, and OBEY them! I get to punish you if you screw up, and I hope you DO screw up! Do you understand?” As she’s saying those last words, she grabs my hair and holds my head still looking me straight in the eye. I must have seemed confused, I didn’t respond immediately, so she slapped me across my face . . . HARD, I felt it in my teeth, and the tears immediately began pouring from my eyes. She slapped me the same way several times, until my head was ringing and I sobbed uncontrollably. I wanted to tell her “yes, I understood”, but she kept slapping my face. When she stopped for a moment I tried to say “yes, YES I do understand”, but with my gag it came out as, “ehh, ehh I uhh uhhstaa”. Fortunately I was also nodding my head “yes” as vigorously as I was able with her gripping my hair. With that hard, serious expression on her face, she said, “good . . . good Ms. Walker . . . because this was nothing compared to what I’ll do to you if you disappoint Miss Carrie”. I still saw Hilary as beautiful and sexy, and she still aroused that special tingle in me, but now I was AFRAID of her!


And then she told me the rules:


#1 – Miss Carrie is now “MISS” Miss Carrie to you, and I am Miss Hilary, and in fact any and every woman you speak to is “Miss” to you. Even the people you work with, do you understand?     My heart sank even lower, but I nodded “yes”. I knew better than to refuse or resist.


#2 – Miss Carrie will select one outfit for you to wear to work each day. You will wear it! You notice you’re in your closet, and your clothes are all gone? That’s because they are not yours any more, they belong to Miss Carrie now.    I nodded again, thinking “maybe if I try to be agreeable she won’t be so rough with me”.


#3 - You will be allowed to sleep in her old room, she has taken the big bedroom that used to be yours. She has had a special bed made with a metal frame with many attachment points built in. The mattress will be a thin pad. You will spend every night in bondage . . . for the rest of your life. Understand?    Tears fill my eyes but I nod my head; yes, I DO understand. This is so very awful, but what choice do I have now?


#4 – you will never be allowed to wear any underwear, at work, at home or when you are taken out for some specific purpose. Miss Carrie has confiscated all of your bras and panties, they are hers now.


#5 – You are allowed to continue your career . . . for now. You will only go out of the house to your office or client meetings, and whenever you are out of the office you must be accompanied by Miss Lauren. The only other time is when you are accompanied by Miss Carrie, or by someone else she designates. Other than those permitted times, you will stay here in this condo and be ready to serve at any time.    My mind has gone numb. Can this really be happening? Are the things she’s telling me really the way my fife will be now?


#6 – You will have a uniform that you will wear at ALL times when you are home. It will be laid out for you whenever you return from working or elsewhere. There will be a large box with a slot in the top placed next to the front door. Immediately upon entering, whether alone or accompanied, you will strip off everything you are wearing and place it into the box through that slot. You will not be able to retrieve anything once it is in the box.


#7 – your uniform will consist of, sheer, dark, thigh-top stockings, 6 inch stiletto pumps, with a locking ankle strap, a high leather posture collar with a lock, and a ring-gag with a locking strap, and sometimes locking cuffs or other things Miss Carrie chooses. You will dress in your uniform and lock all the locks immediately upon disrobing and placing your clothing in the box. At times there may be other items added to the uniform and there will be instructions for using/wearing them. If they are left for you they will be part of the uniform and you must wear them as well. Miss Carrie will hold the keys to those locks.


#8 – You will be watched and monitored 24/7/365. She has had additional security cameras installed in every room; at least one, often more. There is no area in the condo where you will not be visible. Miss Carrie has on-line access for the security camera system in the condo, so whatever you do will be recorded day and night, and she can go on-line and watch you live whenever she chooses.    Now I realize my mistake in having her handle all of our home security arrangements. But it’s too late now!    She has had a tracker installed in both of your cars, so she will know exactly where you are every minute. For this reason it will be best for you to go straight to office or home with no detours, or . . . ? When you are at the office or meeting with clients Lauren will be with you and report everything you do to Miss Carrie. If you aren’t complying with her every wish you will be severely punished.   Hilary smiles broadly as she tells me this, and from what she told me a few minutes ago, I know she will very much enjoy punishing me.


#9 – You will, at a point to be determined by Miss Carrie, sign several legal documents. These will legally transfer your various assets to her, and relinquish all of your own rights to them. Your automobiles, your homes, your bank accounts, all of your investments; everything you now own will become hers. And finally you will sign a contract surrendering you to her ownership, with all terms and conditions included. Do you understand?    Now I’m sobbing hopelessly. This has all gone too far, too fast. I don’t want any of this, I don’t want to sign everything including my very “self” over to my daughter . . . but somehow I know that I WILL.


#10 – When Miss Carrie is not present you will obey Lauren while you are engaged in business, in your office or outside the office. You may not deny her anything she requests of you. You will obey Hilary at any and all times. You may not deny her anything she requests of you.    She looks at me and smiles broadly as she tells me this. Even through my tear-clouded eyes I imagine that I detect a sinister gleam in her eyes.    In the future there will be others. Men are inferior to women, all women except for you, but they may be allowed to use you or punish you in any way that Miss Carrie allows. All women are vastly superior to you, and in general you will defer to them, in your “professional time” that you may be allowed by Miss Carrie, and at any and all other times. Do you understand?    Oh GOD, I think . . . my career, my associates, my clients! How can I live like this, HOW?


I began to cry hopelessly. Then I saw Hilary smiling down at me and rubbing herself, and I realized my humiliation and my tears were arousing her. I tried to stop crying, but I just couldn’t.


Finally I sniffled my way to the end of my tears. Then Hilary, I mean Miss Hilary, freed me from my leg bondage, but only that and grabbed my hair yanking me to my feet. I could barely stand, my legs exhausted and cramped from yesterday and last night, but I had to manage or my hair would be ripped out. She was a big girl, not at all fat, just smooth and shapely, and I had always seen her as beautiful, feminine, soft and sweet, but now I knew that the “sweet” part of her didn’t really exist. As far as the rest, she was indeed all that; but I now realized just how strong she was as well. Even if I were my former self (I was very fit and strong myself) and it were still “before”, she could have beaten my down so very easily. I understood I had better try to please her. She was as cruel as Miss Carrie, perhaps even more so.


I staggered but did manage to walk, following her into a third bedroom in our condo. It was a big room, perhaps bigger even that my, my former, bedroom, and it had always been used as a storage room, but now it was all changed. There were bolts and chains hanging from the ceiling with chains hanging from them, electric hoists on a couple of the ceiling bolts. And several pieces of metal equipment. There were shelves and cabinets along one wall and hanging from one of the other walls, was the most frightening array of instruments and equipment I could imagine . . . and I didn’t even want to try to imagine what might be in those drawers. What I could see was enough; whips, crops, switches of various sorts, Many strap-on didlos in all sizes, some so large I thought they might be fatal if used, clamps of all kinds, probes and speculums and other medical equipment, gags and harnesses and mouth clamps/ring gags and the like in all sizes, I had to turn my eyes away.


I had started whimpering and wanting to beg Miss Hilary again, but she saw it in my eyes and slapped my face hard several times. “This is going to be your classroom, Ms. Bennett”, she said, “and I’m your teacher”. She continued, “I’m going to conduct your private classes during the day, and Miss Carrie will evaluate you every evening. If you can’t satisfy her goals for your progress, then we’ll BOTH be punished. And I tell you, Miss Carrie punishes me often enough just for fun, so if she ever punishes me because of YOU, well, I can’t begin to tell you how bad it will be for you after that. Do you understand Ms. Bennett?” I nodded my head in fear. She smiled, saying, “I’m going to train you to be the lowly slut you were always meant to be, do you like that”? Much as I DIDN’T like that, I knew I had better nod in agreement . . . and I did. Something just told me that Miss Hilary (I had already adapted to this) would have her way, and I would become what Miss Carrie wished me to be. But what? Wasn’t this, what she had already done to me, enough for her? I had no idea how far she might go, and I knew I would never be told just “re-made” . . . and I felt that I probably didn’t want to know where my life was headed now. I didn’t have long to ponder . . .


Miss Hilary dragged me over to a small table in the room, metal with a padded top and many, many rings all along the edges and the legs. I knew these were bondage attachment points. I was quickly bent over the table and my torso strapped down tight with wide leather straps. My arms were still bound tight behind my back but the straps were tightened down right over them. Strapped down that way, I found it was hard to breathe, I had to concentrate and could only draw shallow breaths, and my arms were growing numb by now; I wriggled my fingers, but could scarcely feel them. Then I felt my legs being spread one at a time and strapped down tight to the outward-slanting legs of the table. The straps were all pulled so hard and tight I could feel them sinking into my soft flesh. I tried to flex one of my legs, but couldn’t budge it, I was immobilized from the neck down. Then I felt her press one of my ass-cheeks to one side and I felt a leather strap pulled across it and strapped down tight. Then the other one. Now my rear was spread invitingly wide open. I could almost feel the air moving across my desperately clenched anus. And it made my pussy more exposed too, but there was yet more. I had forgotten the rings that had been put in my vagina lips. I felt Miss Hilary running something through each ring (perhaps a thin cable or cord, I couldn’t tell) and stretching each ring out pulling my outer lips to near the point of pain. When she had done this with all 6 rings, I felt my poor vagina exposed and vulnerable, just like my other 2 holes. And as hurt and uncomfortable and humiliated as I was, I shamefully realized that My slit was throbbing, and I could feel myself getting wet. I heard some shuffling and sounds in the room behind me, but couldn’t turn my head enough to see what Miss Hilary was doing back there.


She came around to my head, deflated my inflatable gag and pulled it out through my ring gag. Then she removed the gag. I saw she was totally naked, and I got a flash of arousal seeing her lovely nude body. I flexed and stretched my cramped jaws. I started to say, “thank you so much Miss Hil . . . ”. But I was cut off by a hard slap across the face that snapped my head to the side and immediately started my tears flowing. She gave me a hard look as she said, “you don’t speak Ms. Bennett . . . EVER”! She held another ring-gag harness in her hand and the ring looked huge to me, much bigger than the one I had been wearing. She said, “I think this will be a little painful for you Ms. Bennett, but you’ll need to get used to it”. Then she smiled and began working it into my mouth, forcing it upright then tightening the harness straps so that there was no way I could dislodge it. I had been looking at her breasts, upper body and beautiful face, but as my head bent forward and my gaze drifted down, and I saw that she was wearing a strap-on dildo . . . the biggest one I had ever seen, it had to be well over a foot long and more than 2 inches in diameter.


Just then I felt my head pulled up and back. The ring gar she used was a “harness-type” and had a couple of D-rings were attached to it, and it was with a rope or cable attached to the one at the top of my head that Miss Hilary was pulling my head back. She was slowly but steadily pulling back my head until my face was directly forward. And pulling on the gag harness that way also pulled the ring itself even deeper into my mouth. Oh God, my neck was aching my stretched jaw hurt, I had to gasp for breath. The tears that Miss Hilary’s slap had started kept flowing down my cheeks. I was frightened and angry; I strained my muscles as hard as I could manage; I screamed with rage. I accomplished nothing, I was immobilized; my holes were all 3 exposed, wide open and vulnerable. I felt totally defeated . . . I WAS defeated. Miss Hilary would do as she wished with me and it would be impossible to resist her. I felt something cold dribbled on my rear and smeared into my anus. I shuddered.


Miss Hilary came around in front of me again and I looked up at her beautiful face. I couldn’t speak, only squeal. And even if I had been able to speak, I knew I would be punished if I did. My eyes were pleading with her for mercy, “please take it easy on me, at least at first”, I was thinking. As if she read my mind she said, “This is going to hurt you Ms. Bennett, but it has to be done. Most of what I’m going to do to you will hurt, but you need to learn to accept that pain as something you deserve. Miss Carrie wants me to break you and train you to be what she wants. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you will adapt. The more you struggle, the more I’ll hurt you.” Then she went around behind me again. I knew what was about to happen. I remembered how huge her strap-on was, and my tears flowed again, and I sobbed as best I could. Then I felt something press against my tight butt-rose, and I clenched in fear. Miss Hilary said, “If you just relax it won’t hurt so much.” I tried to relax my anal muscles, I really did, but I was just too frightened to do it.


I was so frightened at least partly because I had never had anal sex in my life. I never “experimented”, there had never been so much as a finger back in there. Almost forty years old, hundreds, perhaps even thousands of sexual encounters with both sexes, and nothing in my rear, EVER. Many had wanted to, but I simply wouldn’t allow it. I’d regret my “ass-virgin” status. And now THIS!


“Well, if that’s the way you want it”, she said and I felt the pressure against my poor little hole even harder. My heart was beating so hard I thought I might have a heart attack, I almost wished I would have one. What kind of a nightmare had my life become? Then I felt her grip my hips, digging her fingernails into my soft flesh, and then . . .


Then she “broke through” and I felt as if I was being ripped apart. She didn’t hesitate, she plunged into me the full length of that monstrous dildo. I strained every muscle in my body trying to wriggle, trying to escape the horrible pain that washed over me. I thought my rectum was being torn apart and I could feel the full length of her strap-on pushing through my intestines, pressing against my stomach. I felt like retching, but I knew I had better not. But I screamed and screamed and screamed as she pulled back and thrust hard into me again, and again, and again. My mind was reeling and my thinking hazy . . . there was nothing in my head then except that pain and the knowledge that I couldn’t escape it. And it went on and on and on. And at I point I realized that it was still early in the day. How much longer would this go on? What else would she do to me? In my confused mental state, I wanted Miss Carrie to come home. I thought she’d “save” me from this. But of course she wouldn’t, she would probably join in.


I kept screaming, the pain went on and on. “Oh God, Oh God”, I thought, “I’m in hell”!


To be continued . . .

Enslaved by my Daughter – part 4


I only THOUGHT I was in hell . . . but I was only standing at the doorway to hell looking in. My poor, tight virgin ass was in terrible pain as Miss Hilary slammed and slammed that awful dildo deep into my virgin rear. It even hurt deep inside my belly, I felt like my guts were being pushed aside for it. And given the size it was, I suppose they were. Finally she pulled out of me and I whimpered with relief. Oh it still hurt, hurt terribly, but at least the pounding was stopped, it wouldn’t get worse. In a moment after she stopped filling me with that strap-on, she pushed something else into my tender rear. I felt it filling me again and stretching me. It was one of the inflatable plugs, and now I felt my guts being re-arranged again.


But worse, as soon as that stopped, Miss Hilary stepped over in front of me. I smelled sort of funky smell, and quickly realized what it was. I have always been an obsessively CLEAN woman, but considering where and how deep that dildo had just ventured, well. And it was covered in something red. It took me a moment to recognize what it was, blood . . . MY blood. Miss Hilary saw the shock of that realization in my eyes and said, “yeah, I tore you up a little Ms. Walker, sorry”, but Miss Carrie is the one that picked out this dildo for me to use on you. Miss Hilary leaned across my immobilized back and I felt her sweet, soft breasts pressing against my lower back and that dildo rested against my face. I felt her finger run up my inner thigh, and then she stood up and held it out for me to see. I was covered in my bright red blood! Then she licked it, stuck it in her mouth and sucked all my blood off her finger. She repeated this several more times as I watched, stunned. Then she said, “your blood is sweet Ms. Walker, I like how it tastes”. She was smiling happily, and the look in her eyes was terrifying. Fear struck my heart . . . when, oh WHEN would Miss Carrie get here! A sound came from me then, an awful sound, a wail, a scream, I don’t know what I was trying to express, but it came out of me as a whine of defeat and desperation . . .  an animal sound, not a human sound. My brain flashed to 2 days ago when I was still “the mom” planning for my sweet, lovely daughter’s graduation . . . and NOW . . . !


With horror I glimpsed, then felt that huge dildo sliding into my mouth. The weight hanging from my tongue kept it stretched far out of my mouth and her dildo just slid into my throat. Then deeper and deeper she pushed, stretching my throat open, hurting, invading my body again. Oh it hurt, and she just kept slowly forcing it deeper until I now felt as if my throat was being ripped open. Her soft, smooth pubic mound was flat against my face, mashing my nose. That thing was at least a foot long and at least 2 inches in diameter, and I could feel every bit of it all the way down. My gag reflex had kicked in and I retched and convulsed, and I would have vomited but my throat was plugged so tight that nothing could come out. My stomach heaved and bucked and finally it seemed to come to terms with that thing filling my throat and stopped convulsing. But by then I realized something far worse . . . I couldn’t breathe!


I struggled desperately for a breath, but it was not to be, her dildo had plugged my throat so tight and so deep I couldn’t get even a tiny gasp of air. As I grew panicked and my head began to ache and my vision grow cloudy I raised my eyes to her beautiful face. She was smiling, watching me gasp for life to no avail. I think it amused her, and I wondered if she was going to kill me then and there. I didn’t think she would do that, and then she spoke, “You’ll have to learn to take this Ms. Walker, you are going to take even bigger ones later so don’t fail me when we’re just beginning”. Then she pulled quickly out of my throat and I gasped deeply for air as if I had been drowning! She let me breathe deep and catch my breath, then she walked around behind me again saying, “this should be easier for you Ms. Walker”. A moment later I felt that monster dildo forcing its way into my vagina. Then Miss Hilary began thrusting brutally into me over and over. Yes, this was easier than taking it in my rear or my throat, but still I had never experienced anything that large inside me and it DID hurt. And I don’t believe she cared one bit!


Finally she finished and she came back in front of me. I even knew what she would want, and was prepared when the slick, slimy dildo was pumper into my mouth. She wasn’t as rough this time, and I realized she just wanted me to clean it off so I got my tongue working as hard as I could. I didn’t want to be suffocated by that dildo again. When she was satisfied, back behind me again, and knowing what was coming I clenched my ass hard and tight. But I had forgotten what she had told me . . ., that just made the pain worse. I screamed and screamed in pain. I was making a lot of noise, but when we first bought this place we had specified that each room be soundproofed, and I knew no one even in the room next to this one would hear me. Somehow the hopeless futility made me scream even louder, I had no control over ANYTHING.


Finally back to my mouth, that thing was all bloody again, aside from being “funky”. And I tasted my own blood on it as I licked and sucked it clean. I must have bled even more this time. I felt Miss Hilary leaning over my back and running her fingers up my thighs, picking up the blood running down them. The next time I cast my eyes up (I couldn’t move my head to look up) I saw a tiny trickle of blood running from the corner of her mouth. She looked like a vampire as she smiled and licked it up with her tongue.


Than my rear again. I don’t know how many times she repeated this, but finally she left me alone for a while. Not too long I’m afraid, and when she came back into the room she was holding a riding crop. I sniffled a little but she went right to work on my rear, my thighs, especially the soft, tender inner thigh, and even managed to snap it up hard between my legs stinging my tender vagina and clit. I couldn’t believe how THAT hurt and I started screaming again! When I was sure my entire rear and legs, and especially my sore abused vagina and clit was absolutely on fire, she began on my breasts. The way I was bound down, my breasts hung just over the edge of the special table I was bound down to. She had a clear shot at them and she whipped and whipped them with that crop. I knew she was an athlete in school, but she seemed to never, ever tire out.


I don’t know how long the whole thing continued, it felt like hours, days . . . I had lost all real sense of time . . . everything seemed as if it would never end! Finally I must have passed out.


I came to with a start and a feeble scream. There was water streaming all over me, and I quickly realized I was lying on the shower floor being washed off by Miss Hilary who was kneeling next to me. I still had the ring gag in my mouth and my wrists cuffed behind me, and I gagged and sputtered as water washed into my wide-open mouth. But she was gentle and it still felt good, and she lifted my head and smiled at me saying, “this next part won’t hurt you so much Ms. Walker . . . but you still won’t like it”, then an evil grin. She washed me all over even my hair. I must have needed it, I had been streaming with perspiration, not to mention all the other bodily fluids involved. Then she helped me up led me out to a small bench where she sat me down. She blow-dried and brushed my hair. Then she led me in and helped me go to the toilet and wipe off. I felt almost like myself again, but of course I wasn’t “myself” any longer.


Then she led me out and sat me on the edge of the bed, telling me to “stay”, just like you’d command a trained dog. I guess I was trained, because I did stay and wait when she left the room. After some time she returned wearing white thigh-top hose and white 6” stiletto heels. My heart gave a flip, my god she was beautiful. I am a big woman, 5’11” and about 160 pounds, all solid and trim from good diet and workouts . . . and good genetics. But Miss Hilary is even bigger, certainly over 6’ tall and probably weighing 180 pounds or so. And the most beautiful pale skin with a slight dusting of freckles that are a perfect match for her strawberry blonde hair and green eyes. I had always thought my Carrie was an exceptional beauty (and she IS), but Miss Hilary might have her beat. But both girls are very shapely and fit; scholarship athletes in school. I had always been near infatuated with her, but now I absolutely lusted for her.


My ring gag had stayed in and my wrist cuffs were on, but it must have not been enough for Miss Hilary. She took a wide leather strap and tightened it just above my elbows. She pulled HARD, gradually pressing my elbows together. It hurt, and I whimpered as she tightened it. And now she put on my posture collar. It was high and tight around my throat and had a lower part under my chin. Lower but not really low at all since it tilted my face up slightly. It was smooth-edged so it didn’t cut in at all, but so tight I was uncomfortable and I couldn’t turn my head at all, or look down. My head was pretty well immobilized. Now I could feel her putting on my stockings, dark, sheer thigh-top hose I had seen on the bed when I came out of the shower. Then shoes. They were tight-fitting and shaped so they forced my toes to point more than my normal heels did. Then she drew straps across just above my ankles and fastened then tight. I could see her go across the room and come back with a handful of padlocks, and snap, snap, snap, on my collar, my wrist cuffs and the straps of my shoes.


But then the worst! She held up high so I could see them, two inflatable plugs and a chastity belt. It was just then that I realized I was incredibly aroused and I mumbled something, trying to plead for an orgasm (or more?) before she belted me. But Miss Hilary only smiled, she knew what I was trying to ask for and had no intention of granting me that, or any for that matter, wish. She pushed me down on the edge of bed so my rear was exposed, then I feel her fingers spreading my buttocks and probing me. I clenched my sphincter tight in fear, I knew it wasn’t going to help but I couldn’t avoid the reflex. She roughly pushed two fingers into my rear, then three, saying, “relax Ms. Walker, you’re only making it harder on yourself”. I couldn’t help it, I knew but I still was so frightened I couldn’t relax. Tears had started to trickle down my cheeks, and when she twisted and pushed the tip of one of the plugs into me, I squealed through my ring gag and I felt the tears really start to flow. Then she hit her hand hard against the base of the plug driving it into my rear, and I screamed in pain and shock. Immediately I felt her fingers, then the tip of a plug twisting its way into my vagina. After that last plug, this was easy, almost a pleasure. But I realized a part of it was the fact that I was dripping wet and so very aroused and immediately felt humiliated.


Then she stood me up, grabbing onto a ring on my collar and simply pulling me off the bed to my feet. Her strength again, I knew I would never dare resist her physically, I would have no chance against her. She put the belt around my waist and snugged it tight against my skin. Then the plate between my legs. My head was held pointed upwards by my posture collar, but I could feel what she was doing as she slipped the inflating tubes and bulbs of the plugs through the openings in the crotch plate. Then that was pulled up between my legs. Miss Hilary carefully spread my vagina lips, pulling the rings to spread them, pushing and adjusting them, so the as she pulled the crotch plate up tight my vagina lip rings were lined up along each side of the plate. Then she began pulling it up TIGHT. I felt the snap as it latched into place, and then the snap of each of three padlocks that locked it tight. I twisted my hips a bit to make myself comfortable and in faint hope of getting a little pressure against my clit. Miss Hilary laughed and said, “I see what you’re trying to do Ms. Walker, but there’s a special little cup around your clit so no part of the belt can even touch it, you can’t help yourself that way”.


And now I felt it, a feeling of a ring pressing against my open, tender (and wet, I’m ashamed to say) vagina around my clit, but about an inch away and raised up so there could be no contact. There was no way I could ever get any pressure against my hungry clit, even a faint touch no matter how much I squirmed and twisted, I knew that. I could feel the solid metal belt tight around my waist and up between my legs, gripping me TIGHT. But then Miss Hilary pushed me back onto the bed and spread my legs wide apart. I couldn’t see what she was doing but I felt a tugging at my vagina rings, one at a time, and I felt her hands and fingers doing something. Then all the rings were stretched and tugged and that was painful as they stretched up and around the edges of the belt’s crotch plate. “I’m lacing you up tight Ms. Walker, we don’t want any ‘accidental’ orgasms do we”, she said?


It was Miss Carrie’s hand I felt, holding my sexual pleasure and orgasms tight within her grasp. Those no longer belonged to me, they belonged to her. But then worse . . . I felt a growing pressure inside me. Miss Hilary was pumping up the plugs she had pushed deep into me. First just the feeling, then quickly discomfort, then finally severe pain as I felt I was being ripped apart inside. I groaned and bent over by reflex. But Miss Hilary jerked my head up and slapped me hard across my face. As my sobs began and tears started to flow yet again, she said to me, “there’ll be none of that nonsense Ms. Walker, you stand up straight at ALL times or you’ll be sorry”. I forced myself up straight, hurting all the time. I knew she was right, and I didn’t want to “be sorry”, I was too frightened of Miss Hilary already to disobey her. And I knew I would somehow get used to this, I knew I MUST get used to it!


Then she snapped a dog leash onto my posture collar and roughly jerked me up and led me out of the room. “Time to practice being graceful in your uniform Ms. Walker”, she told me as she led me around the various rooms. The plugs, the belt, my tightly laced vagina lips, my collar . . . but mostly those shoes. And my wrist cuffs together with the straps holding my elbows tight together hurt my back, and I could feel that pressure holding my breasts up and out as my back arched painfully. They must have been at least 6 inch stiletto heels, maybe higher. It wasn’t long before my foot and leg muscles began to agonize. But I knew I had to keep at it, and I tried my best and tried not to whimper. It wasn’t easy! My mind wandered . . . “only days ago I was . . . “, I thought. But it seems that was over now. Now I was something else entirely from what I had been. In just those few days, my life had been turned upside-down!


I didn’t want this. Not at all! I kept wondering how to escape this almost constant torment. I fought, I struggled . . . but both Miss Carrie and Miss Hilary were strong and careful. I wanted this to stop, I watched for my chance. But even in just these few days, I had begun to doubt myself. And what if I DID somehow escape from this terrible captivity. I remembered all the people that had seen me at the graduation party, all the pictures that had been taken. What if I did manage to escape physically . . . THEN what? This HAD to end somehow! But I had a flash of terror thinking, “maybe it WON’T end”? I felt the tears start to run silently down my cheeks as I felt my strength and resolve slowly, slowly begin draining away . . .


To be continued . . .

Enslaved by my Daughter – part 5


Finally . . . finally the forced marching stopped. But Miss Hilary didn’t let me rest or sit down. She told me there was one more lesson for me, then I could relax by licking her pussy and ass. In my state of mind this was good news! She then told me to get on my knees, which with some struggle I managed to do. She had led me to a position about four feet back from the front door, and had me on my knees facing the door, my arms cuffed behind my back. She put her foot between my knees and gently kicked from side to side as she kept saying. “spread them, wider, wider Ms. Walker” and nudging my knees further and further apart. Now that was uncomfortable too and I felt the muscles and tendons of my upper thighs and crotch stretching tight. And add to that the tight grip of the steel chastity belt and the horrible pressure inside me from those huge plugs. The she tilted my head up further until I was almost facing the ceiling. My neck ached from my collar, my jaws ached from wearing the ring gag all day, I was beginning to ache all over from everything I’d experienced today and now holding this position was beginning to make my back ache too. But finally Miss Hilary was satisfied. She left me alone for a time, I have no idea how long . . . but I knew very well I had better hold that position, no matter how uncomfortable I was.


Finally, when I was certain I couldn’t hold another second, I saw Miss Hilary standing over me. “You’ve done really well today Ms. Walker”, she said to me, “that’s wise of you, it will be so much easier for you if you just give in and adapt to your new life”. I understood, and again a few tears dribbled from the corners of my eyes. Miss Hilary smiled and said, “you’re so cute when you cry Ms. Walker, I just love it”, then she leaned down and licked off my tears. “Cute” I thought, a girl half my age calling me “cute” . . . how humiliating . . . and more so because I knew I couldn’t do a thing to stop her. Then she moved over my face and I saw that she had no undergarments on. “O.K. Ms. Walker, just one more lesson for you before Miss Carrie gets home”, she said, and pulled my wide open mouth tight against her vagina. Then she said, “swallow it ALL Ms. Walker, don’t you dare spill any”, and let loose a stream of urine directly into my mouth. It hit the back of my throat and I choked and gagged, but she just grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my face tight against her. She was so strong I couldn’t even begin to pull back, and her stream continued filling my mouth. Then she pinched my nostrils shut, and I knew it was swallow or choke. I sputtered, coughed and gagged, but in the end I did manage to swallow all of her urine. There was a LOT, she must have been saving up all day for my “lesson”. It tasted tangy and salty, a bit “funky” I suppose, but not that terrible. It was more the idea of it. I knew I would get used to that taste. I actually felt a bit full, and I felt my stomach churning and willed myself NOT to gag or vomit. But when I realized this would be a regular thing for me I almost did, but I knew I must stop myself. I would learn . . . I MUST learn!


Just then Miss Hilary’s phone rang. I could tell by her end of the conversation it was Miss Carrie. She finished by saying, “I think she’s ready for you to test her . . . yes, I hope so Miss”, and a worried look flashed across her lovely face. I realized that if I disappointed Miss Carrie, not only would I be punished severely, but so would Miss Hilary. And then I would have to spend the entire next day with her, and I knew what would happen to me THEN. I knew how strong she was, and she had already told me how much she loved hurting me. I would try my best to please her by pleasing Miss Carrie. It struck me at that moment that I was already thinking of her as “Miss Carrie”, not Carrie, my sweet lovely daughter . . . and I shuddered. It made me sad, but I knew today was only the beginning . . . of the rest of my life! A tear slid from my eye . . . it seemed as if I was crying all the time now.


I stayed in that most uncomfortable posture for almost another hour. Miss Hilary sat on the sofa nearby reading a book and using her ipad. Finally I heard the key turn in the lock and Miss Carrie came in. I was about 5 feet inside the door, on my uncomfortably wide-spread knees, head tilted back, wrists cuffed together behind my back, elbows strapped tightly together and wearing my uniform of course which included that huge ring-gag spreading my mouth wide open. I had been nearly motionless in that position for so long my poor body ached all over.


Miss Carrie looked down at me and smiled, then turned to Miss Hilary, who had stood to attention as she came through the door. “So Hil, my sweet little slut, is she ready” she questioned? Miss Hilary responded with a, “yes Miss, she’s ready”, glancing at me with a hard look in her lovely eyes. I knew I had better repeat my performance of only an hour ago, and be VERY good at it or I would face her wrath tomorrow, if not sooner.


As Miss Carrie stepped up to me, raising her skirt and straddling my face, I saw she was wearing no panties. She must have wanted to be ready to do this quickly. Then I felt Miss Hilary’s strong hands press my face tight against Miss Carrie’s vagina. Immediately I felt and smelled her stream against the back of my throat. As I desperately gulped it all down, I heard Miss Carrie say, “ohhh God Hil, that feels so good . . . I’ve been holding it all day”. And she must have been, her musky, salty stream seemed as if it would never stop.


Then she asked Miss Hilary, “Aren’t you feeling like you could use a trip to the bathroom too”, motioning to my still upturned face and open mouth. Miss Hillary replied, “I am; thank you so much Miss Carrie”. Then she straddled my face and I tasted her urine again. And while I served as Miss Hilary’s toilet Miss Carrie took video of me, focusing closely on my face. There would be no question that it was ME. Miss Hilary too seemed very full, and my stomach now gurgled in turmoil. I hadn’t been fed all day and my belly was filled with over a quart of urine, nothing else. I whimpered softly, knowing full well that if I didn’t manage to keep it all down there would be severe consequences. I was already clear on the fact that there would be NO mercy for me if I displeased either Miss Carrie or Miss Hilary. Tears began to flow involuntarily down my cheeks. I didn’t dare cry and sob, but I couldn’t stop the tears.


Then the 2 girls exchanged a long, deep kiss. Miss Carrie turned to me then and said, “remember when you used to be my mom (those words “used to be” caused my tears to stream faster) how we used to kiss”? Then an immediate hard, hard slap stung my cheek and snapped my head to one side. Then another, even harder! “That’s how I’m going to kiss you now slut”, she said. Then she smiled and nodded to Miss Hilary who stepped over in front of me and slapped me yet again, and sooo much harder than Miss Carrie had. And then again harder still. My head was ringing and my eyes had blurred over completely from the flow of tears. Now I couldn’t help myself I sobbed; bit in pain and in despair. So now this was a “kiss” for me. Everything that had been done to me the last few days was a blow to my strength, my sense of self. I wondered how much lower I could go. An understanding and answer to THAT question flickered in the corners of my mind, but I refused to face it.


After a moment Miss Carrie said to me, “I’ll bet you’d like to kiss ME now . . . well here’s how you will do it in the future”. She turned and spread her butt-cheeks apart and I felt Miss Hilary push my face right up against her little pucker. I whimpered again . . . this was my daughter for God’s sake! Miss Hilary bent down and whispered to me, “get that tongue out Ms. Walker; as far as you can”. I must have hesitated because she grasped one of nipple rings, pulled and twisted HARD, then dug her fingernails deep into my nipple. My tear-filled eyes widened and I squealed loudly through my ring-gag . . . but I obeyed. My face was pressed hard and deep into my daughters lovely, lush ass, I couldn’t pull back and couldn’t squirm away. In fact I could barely breathe and I knew I had no choice. I felt Miss Carrie’s rear relax and heard her sigh as my tongue slid into her pretty rear. I pushed as deep as I could and wriggled it a bit, I didn’t want to be hurt again. I felt Miss Carrie shudder and moan as she orgasmed. After a shuddering, sighing moment she pulled away and looked me in the face, smiling widely. “Now THAT’S how you’ll kiss ME my slut”, she told me. My stomach gave another flip, but I held tight to keep control over it. I didn’t dare vomit, no matter how much I felt like it at that moment. I knew I needed to learn . . . and like it or not, I knew I WOULD learn.


Finished with me . . . for now . . . they went over to the sofa and sat down together. I had to put my head more upright, my neck was so sore it simply couldn’t endure any more leaning back. They kissed and necked for a while as I enviously (and hopelessly) watched all that affection. There was some whispering between them and the occasional glance at me as I knelt there. Miss Hilary giggled and left the room looking at me as she walked out down the hall. She returned momentarily carrying a sofa cushion with a u-shaped cut-out in it. It was upholstered to match the sofa and the other cushions, and I watched her remove a cushion and replace it with the one she had just brought in. By now I had been in that stressed position for over 2 hours. My eyes were filling with involuntary tears from the ache of holding that position. I felt my tired, stressed muscles quiver and spasm and hoped I wouldn’t cramp up. Perspiration streamed down my body and I felt tickles from the dribbles of it running down my sides, my thighs, everywhere. And now since I’d straightened up my head, I felt myself drooling heavily (my aching jaws held open wide by that monstrous ring-gag) and felt it running down between my breasts.


Just when I thought I might collapse right there, Miss Hilary came over, grabbed my hair, and pulled me to my feet. I was so exhausted I could hardly stand on my shaking legs, but she marched me over to the sofa and turned me to face away from it. She grabbed a handful of my hair and twisted it as she forced me to my knees, facing away from the sofa. Miss Carrie came over and said to me, “we’re going to make some plans for you slut, and you don’t need to know what they are”. With that she pressed earplugs deep into both my ears. Then she and Miss Hilary took each of my ankle cuffs and bound them to the front legs of the sofa, pulling roughly and spreading them wide apart. She disappeared for a moment and returned carrying a sort of large, solid cushion that she placed behind my back, then forced me to bend backwards pressing my head down to the sofa, arching my poor, stressed body backward until my head nestled into a “head-sized” cut-out in the cushion. I hadn’t seen that when she put it down, but now it held my head snugly in place with my face up and level with the sofa cushions. There were ropes she put through the d-rings at the sides of my collar and pulled down tight, then a wide strap that she ran across my forehead and tightened down. I never saw how these fastenings worked, but my head was now held immobile and face up, with my ring gag still holding my mouth open wide. I could see them talking and laughing but I couldn’t hear a thing because of the earplugs. The last thing I saw before Miss Hilary’s beautiful butt planted on my face was Miss Carrie dropping on the sofa beside my head a riding crop and some sort of an electrical prod. My cry of terror was silenced by Miss Hilary’s lovely pussy and lush ass. She wriggled herself tight against my face.


I struggled to breathe, but I knew what was expected of me and my tongue got busy immediately . . . I knew I had no choice! I lapped and licked and probed. I felt her orgasm and felt her gush, and then again. But my mouth was getting so tired I was slowing down. I tried to keep going, but I swear my jaws were cramping. But then I felt a hard, stinging snap on my inner thigh, and then on the other leg, and again and again. Then, even harder right between my helplessly spread thighs, right on my clit. And over and over, harder and harder. I was straining and struggling, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. I screamed and screamed, but it was all muffled by Miss Hilary’s rear and thighs. I struggled to breathe, my body ached with stress and my clit felt as if it were on fire! But I kept trying to satisfy her again with my tongue, licking and probing desperately. Then I felt her shudder in a huge orgasm and gush in my waiting face. I felt her sticky-sweet fluid smear my face, drip into my mouth, run into my nose.


Now she slid forward so her rear was positioned directly over my mouth. I hesitated a bit too long, and felt an excruciating jolt of electricity on my clit. I screamed and screamed into Miss Hilary’s lush ass, but it was completely muffled by her soft flesh. I sensed that she and Miss Carrie were both giggling at my pain. I didn’t hesitate a moment longer thrusting my tongue as deep into that sweet ass as I could manage, probing and wriggling it. It wasn’t long before I felt a tensing in her muscles and a shuddering that told me she had another orgasm. Confirming this she slid forward smearing her pussy juice across my face. Of course I licked desperately, I was quickly learning what I needed to do. She repeated this a few times then finally lifted off my face. Through tear-streaked vision I saw Miss Carrie come over and sit squarely on my mouth. By now I wanted to pleasure her just the way I had done for Miss Hilary. But just as I thrust my tongue into her she released a stream of urine into my mouth. I choked and gulped to swallow it. Whatever it would take to please her, I WANTED to please her, so quickly had all resistance been stripped away. And that was the end of the evening for me. Miss Carrie told Miss Hilary to put me to bed. She led me to my room and let me flop down on the thin mattress, then began to bind me in my “sleep position”. She bent down and kissed me, saying, “you’re doing really good Ms. Bennett, you’re learning fast”. And as she turned just before she turned out the lights and shut (and locked) the door she said to me, “get your rest Ms. Bennett, you have another hard day tomorrow. In fact you have three weeks of hard days coming up.” It was frightening to think of this going on, and perhaps further . . . I had no idea. But I was so exhausted I was asleep by the time she shut the door.


To be continued . . .


Enslaved by my Daughter – part 6


3 weeks after part 5


I have not posted anything for the last three weeks. Miss Carrie felt it was more important for me to concentrate on my training. And I know she was right, I’m proud of what I have accomplished. I have a greater understanding of my place in the world and my true purpose in life. And I believe that I have made Miss Hilary and Miss Carrie proud of me.


The three weeks was planned as vacation time for me, and so there were no problems from my absence at the firm. And Miss Carrie has been in touch with Miss Lauren, my former assistant, so the few things that did come up in my absence were passed on to junior associates at the firm. Now my training has reached a “phase” (Miss Carrie’s words) where I may return to my career. For me that’s the good news. I have had no time to think of that during my training, but now that Miss Carrie has told me I may return to work tomorrow, I am happy. I suppose the bad news for me is that Miss Carrie has just now told me that we will be having guests this evening . . . my mother, my aunt and my two sisters! I asked Miss Carrie if I could please wear one of my nicer outfits, but she told me that I will wear my uniform as usual. I understand her wishes, but I feel confused and a sense of coming humiliation. She asked me if I wasn’t proud to be her property, and of course I assured her that I am. So she told me that I must perform well that evening, and show my family that pride in serving her.

During the last week she had a woman friend of hers, and someone I had met through her involved with me. The woman is Miss Mira, and instructor that she met at an advanced placement course a year ago. She is a clinical psychologist with a specialty in hypnosis, as well as a college-level teacher. Obviously a very bright and accomplished woman. They became good friends and I met Miss Mira one day when Miss Carrie invited me to join them for lunch (this was “before”). When we had lunch she was very friendly and tried to keep me included in the conversation. But most of what they talked about was various mind control techniques, and it was beyond my understanding (or interest). Miss Mira is a very attractive and superbly dressed middle-eastern woman, though I never found out exactly where she was from. She is tall (though not quite as tall as Miss Carrie and I) and very shapely and fit with dark, almost black, hair and eyes. Well Miss Mira has been working with me a couple of hours a day, interspersed with Miss Hilary’s training. And I must say she has helped me to understand my purpose and focus on my training. I often think that Miss Mira is using some of her psychological techniques or even hypnosis on me, But I always have a deeper understanding with my new place in life, and am more and more comfortable with my situation. I think I owe her a lot.


And Miss Mira has been invited this evening to help me understand what is required of me, if I fail to understand or accept immediately. I know that this is a test of sorts, and having Miss Mira there makes me feel somewhat more secure. She has been so very helpful to me during my training.


And then Miss Carrie told me that I would be signing my ownership contract with her as my family as witness to my formal surrender, and I will be branded with Miss Carrie’s ownership mark. She has designed and had made a special brand for her property, which is me. She is right to do all of this, of course but I still feel an uneasiness verging on fear.


But now I will bring you up to date on my training, what has been done to me and what I have learned. These are the rules that Miss Hilary informed me of three weeks ago (it seems so much longer than that). Part of my training has been for me to commit them to memory, to understand them fully and to obey them unquestioningly.


So here is what I know and understand as my future and my life.


#1 – My daughter Carrie is now “MISS” Miss Carrie to me, and her friend and my trainer is Miss Hilary, and in fact any and every woman I speak to is “Miss”, even the people I work with. I know this will be difficult for me when I do return to the office, but I do understand the necessity of this, and I will obey unquestioningly.


#2 – Miss Carrie will select one outfit for me to wear to work each day, and I will wear it. Miss Carrie has taken away all of my clothing and it is hers now. I understand and accept this willingly.


#3 - I will be allowed to sleep in Miss Carrie’s old room; she has taken the big bedroom that used to be mine. She has had a special bed made for me with a metal frame with many attachment points built in. My mattress is only a thin pad. I will spend every night in bondage . . . for the rest of my life. I understand this and feel honored that she values me enough to keep me secured at all times.


#4 – I am never allowed to wear any underwear, at work, at home or if I am taken out for some specific purpose. Miss Carrie has confiscated all of my bras and panties, the best ones are hers now and she has destroyed the rest. But I will wear a snug, secure chastity belt at all times, with my uniform at home and under my clothing at work.


#5 – I will be allowed to continue my career . . . for now. I will only go out of the house to my office or client meetings, and whenever I am out of the office I will be accompanied by Miss Lauren. The only other time I might be allowed to go out I will be accompanied by Miss Carrie, or by someone else she designates. Other than those permitted times, I will stay here in the condo and be ready to serve at any time. And I am happy and proud to do this for her, my beautiful daughter . . . I’m sorry, I mean my beautiful owner. No matter which I am glad to be her possession and to serve her wishes, whatever they might be.


#6 – I have a uniform that I wear at ALL times when I am at home. It will be laid out for me whenever I return from work. There will be a large box with a slot in the top placed next to the front door. Immediately upon entering, whether alone or accompanied, I am to strip off everything I am wearing and place it into the box through that slot. I will not be able to retrieve anything once it is in the box. I will immediately dress in my uniform and lock all of the appropriate locks upon disrobing, placing my clothing in the box. At times there may be other items added to the uniform and there will be instructions for using/wearing them. If they are left for me they will be part of the uniform and I must wear them as well. Miss Carrie and Miss Hilary will hold all keys to the locks.


#7 – My uniform consists of, sheer, dark, thigh-top stockings, 6 inch stiletto pumps, with a locking ankle strap, a high leather posture collar with a lock, and a harness-type ring-gag with a locking strap and sometimes locking cuffs or other things Miss Carrie chooses. And of course the piercings in my tongue tip, nipples and pussy lips. I am also to attach the heavy weight she used the day of my capture to tongue ring. It must be 3 or 4 pounds, and drags my tongue far out of my mouth. Her reasoning is that it will extend the length on my tongue, which of course is very desirable for some of the services I perform. Miss Hilary measures my tongue from time to time, and she says it has already lengthened by over ½ inch, and that it will eventually increase to at least 3 to 4 inches longer than it was the day I was taken.


#8 – I will be watched and monitored 24/7/365. She has had additional security cameras installed in every room; at least one, often more. There is no area in the condo where I will not be visible to these cameras. Miss Carrie has on-line access for the security camera system in the condo, so whatever I do will be recorded day and night, and she can also go on-line and watch me live whenever she chooses. She has had a tracker installed in both of our cars, so she will know exactly where I am every minute. For this reason I know I must go straight to the office or straight home after work with no detours. Of course I am only ever allowed to use her old car (now mine) to go to work and back. The new Mercedes I bought myself this year as a “treat” now belongs to her. When I am at the office or meeting with clients Miss Lauren will be with me and report everything I do or say to Miss Carrie. Miss Carrie also has access to all my computer activities and e-mails, and will control them. She has taken all my login’s and passwords and changed them, except for my professional e-mail at the firm, and even this she will monitor from time to time. If I am allowed access, she logs me in, then out when I have done as she has allowed/requested. I understand that it is for my own good that Miss Carrie controls my life in this way. It is a huge change and I still often feel stressed by this control, but I know it is the right thing, and I must learn to accept it wholeheartedly.


#9 – When Miss Carrie is not present I will obey Lauren while I am engaged in business, in my office or outside the office. I may not deny her anything she requests of me, whether business-related or personal. I will obey Miss Hilary at any and all times. I may not deny her anything she requests of me. Of course it goes without saying that Miss Carrie is to be obeyed immediately and without question. I am told that in the future there will be others. I understand that men are inferior to women, all women except for myself, but they may be allowed to use me or punish me in any way that Miss Carrie allows. All women are vastly superior to me, and in general I will defer to them, in any “professional time” that I may be allowed by Miss Carrie, and at any and all other times.


#10 – I will, at a point to be determined by Miss Carrie, sign several legal documents. These will legally transfer all of my various assets to her, and relinquish all of my own rights to them. My automobiles, my homes, my bank accounts, all of my investments; everything I now own will become hers. And I will sign a contract surrendering myself to her ownership, with all terms and conditions included. And I have been told that this latter will happen tonight with my family witnessing it.


So aside from memorizing and understanding my rules, I have learned to become competent at many services. Things like using my tongue to greatest effect on pussies and ass-holes. Miss Hilary has been lengthening my tongue during my training by hanging a very heavy weight from my tongue-ring all day. It only comes off when I sleep. Miss Hilary has been measuring my tongue distance from my lower teeth that I am able to extend it) since we began. I’m proud to say that it has lengthened by over ½ inch since I began and she tells me it will eventually extend over 6 inches. I can also tell that it has gotten stronger and more flexible, and I can tell from what Misses Carrie and Hilary say when they discuss my training that I have become more pleasing to them with it. That makes me proud.


I can swallow all the piss Miss Carrie or Miss Hilary gives me. I drink it direct from their pretty pussies and never waste a drop. I never thought I’d get used to this, but now I understand this is an important part of my service, and I am even a bit proud of my ability to swallow any quantity of piss. But I have been told that this evening I must also serve all of our guests in this way also. I don’t like the idea, it’s so very humiliating, drinking piss from my mother, my aunt, my two sisters; but I also realize I can’t avoid that humiliation. When I was told of this I tried to beg Miss Carrie to please not make me do it. Well, I suffered for that, and while the thought still humiliates me so that I think I can’t bear it, I know that I will do it.


My ability to take dildos has grown during this this three weeks also. I was never much for oral sex with men or women with strap-on’s and couldn’t even come close to deep throating. But even in this three weeks Miss Hilary has conditioned me to take orally a dildo on her strap-on that is 1½ inch diameter and12 inches long. And she has forced it all the way down my throat, far past any gag reflex, until her belly is pressed tight against my face. She holds it there too, to develop my ability to hold my breath. It has taken me a while to learn how to breathe as she pumps into me. In early training she held it down my throat so long that if I hadn’t breathed in the correct rhythm I would pass out. I always wear my ring gag for this (in fact I wear it most of the time I am at home) and Miss Hilary has gradually increased the size of the ring, so now my mouth can open much wider than ever before. She has told me that I will continue to be trained until I can take much larger and longer ones.


And I have increased my tolerance in my ass-hole and pussy. Miss Hilary now fucks me with dildos 2 ¼ inches diameter and 12 inches long. I have to say this training hurt, it still does even as my “capacity” has grown since Miss Hilary keeps increasing the size dildo she uses in her strap-on. For my pussy, I know they can’t get any longer than perhaps 14 inches without causing severe internal damage, which I know Miss Carrie doesn’t want. But I have been told that the diameters will increase in both holes, and that my ass-hole should be almost “bottomless” and that I will be trained top take 2 feet or more at 3-4 inches diameter. That’s frightening, since even now Miss Hilary’s fucking is painful. But I know I can’t disappoint her by showing much reaction.


My pain tolerance has increased substantially, although I am told I still have far to go and this training will continue to escalate. I am whipped with a riding crop, leather strap, short single-tail whip and cane. There are marks, sometimes welts on my tits, ass and inner and back of my thighs . . . these seem to be the areas Miss Hilary prefers. Often directly on my nipples or pussy and clit. THAT still makes me scream. The last week Miss Hilary has started using needles on many sensitive areas of my body, especially those that are her favorite targets for whipping.


I have learned to hold extreme positions, even when they become painful, for long periods. One example is my “greeting” position at the door, where I am on my knees with my legs spread wide, my hands behind my back, and my face and open mouth tilted upwards. I will be in this position this evening, to greet our guests, and tonight I am also to have my hands cuffed behind my back, and my elbows strapped tight together also.


I never used to talk this way, words like pussy, ass-hole, tits, piss, fuck, but part of my training has been to be direct in my writing, and since I am a slut to speak like a slut when I write. Of course I am not allowed to use my voice to actually speak to either of the Misses, except in acknowledgment of my understanding of training instructions or to ask questions if I am not clear on what is desired of me. And a little goes a long way here. If I don’t understand Miss Hilary’s instructions readily she slaps my face until I cry, and whips my ass or tits until they burn. If I am given a command to do something I have already learned, I am simply to comply without speaking. I have learned to do this, and I believe Miss Hilary and Miss Carrie are pleased with my progress. Still, it seems there are always reasons to punish me. I really can’t ever relax or be secure in the idea that I am doing well with my training.


But now I must end this posting. Our guests will be here in an hour and I am to take my position at the door so I greet everyone as they arrive. The thought of showing myself to my mother, my aunt, my sisters, like this is still extremely humiliating, I feel tears building on my eyes. All the same I know it must be done sooner or later. Miss Mira has explained that if I am to fully accept my place and bring the most pleasure to Miss Carrie I must not be ashamed of being a slut . . . I need to be proud of it. I feel a small sinking in my heart knowing that I will, it is inevitable and I will do my best for Miss Carrie.



To be continued . . .


Enslaved by my Daughter – part 7


My body aches with stress as I hold my greeting position. And my jaw aches too, Miss Hilary used a much larger ring for my ring gag than ever before. I am afraid my jaw muscles will cramp, but Miss Hilary has strapped in the gag perfectly, and locked it tight. Whatever happens, my mouth will stay wide open. And I think that my collar is even tighter, certainly much higher . . . I can’t even move my head around. I know it has been well over an hour. I feel the perspiration beginning to trickle down my body. My jaw aches, my stretched neck hurts, and my legs and belly and back muscles quiver with stress . . . but I must hold the position I can’t help but dwell on how very humiliating this will be but how could I possibly avoid it. Impossible, just as it is impossible now to change anything, to have any influence at all over my future. I repeat to myself, I must please Miss Carrie, I MUST. Then finally the doorbell rings . . . !


My mother Janine is first to arrive and with her is her sister my Aunt Melinda. Oh God, how humiliating. I want to turn my head away but I know I must not do that. I blush and I feel tears form in my eyes. For my own mother to see me like this, and my aunt too. But then I am the property of my own daughter, so it really shouldn’t matter. Mom and Aunt Melinda smile down at me and pat my head. Mom says to me, “aren’t YOU a good little slut my dear”, and then to Miss Carrie, “I’m proud of you and what you’ve done with my daughter . . . she has been due for this for a long time”. I never knew she would feel that way, I must have been hoping for some sympathy, if not rescue, but I see there will be no help with either from mom or from Aunt Melinda.


Shortly my two sisters Maryanne and Linda arrive. Similar comments from them, I am leaking tears now. I never thought my own family could see me this way and approve of it. But it seems they do! Now Miss Mira arrives, and I’m happy to see her here. She has helped me understand and accept my position, and she just makes me feel more secure. Then Miss Carrie says to me, “come over here slut-mom, you have some papers to sign”. Then Miss Hilary clips a leash on my collar and leads me on hands and knees over to a low cocktail table covered with documents and a pen.


I start to sob uncontrollably. I have been told that in the future I would sign a contract surrendering myself to my daughter as her property. And that in addition I would sign any documents required to transfer all of my assets to her as well. Everything I own, EVERYTHING! I balk a little and Miss Hilary tugs at my leash, but then Miss Mira kneels down with me and says, “let me talk to her everyone, I’ll help her see what is right”. I want to say, ‘oh thank you Miss Mira’, but with my gag in I can just mumble . . .  and now more embarrassingly, I’m drooling, I can’t stop myself. But Miss Mira shows me her tablet and there is a familiar image, a comforting image. It’s a spiraling design that draws me into it, and I begin to relax. Miss Mira begins to explain to me what I need to accept now, and I sort of drift off. I must have dozed, she made me so relaxed and comfortable. She must have kept talking with me though, and now she says softly and sweetly, “do you understand”? I’m still not really clear-headed but maybe I do, so I reply, “yes Miss Mira, I do”. I’m not sure I DO understand, but I feel very comfortable now and have lost any thought of resisting. I kneel next to the cocktail, pick up the pen and start signing wherever I’m instructed. I don’t read anything, there would be no point.


Miss Carrie has instructed me to insert a copy of my ownership contract which surrenders me and all my freedom and rights to her, so that follows”

_____________________________


OWNERSHIP CONTRACT of Cassandra Walker



I understand that this contract, when signed, is eternal and will absolutely govern me as long as I remain alive. This contract is valid whether my signature was obtained from me voluntarily or involuntarily. Any means whatsoever may be used to obtain my signature on this contract. I hereby surrender to my owner(s) the following powers over me, as well as any and all others, without any limit.


cw_ The Full and complete possession of my body, to modify, control and use in any manner, as my owner(s) may wish.


cw_ The Full and complete possession of my mind, to modify and control in any manner, such as hypnosis, NLP, brainwashing, etc. as my owner(s) may wish.


cw_  The right to permanently mark me as their property by tattoo, brand, tag or any other method my owner(s) may wish.


cw_  The right to keep me restrained in any manner or position, and/or in complete sensory deprivation, as my owner(s) wish, for as long as they wish, or permanently if they so desire. The right to convert me to “human furniture” or display me as an object of art in their home or in public.


cw_  The right to punish, discipline or torture me, by any and all means my owner(s) may wish and for as long as they wish. My owner(s) do not require justification or reason to do this.


cw_  The right to transport me at any time and by any means my owner(s) may choose to any location, public or private. The right to display me in any of these locations, public or private.


cw_  The right to keep my mouth clamped open for easy access and use, and also keep me silenced by gags, or permanently silence me by removal of my vocal cords, as my owner(s) wish.


cw_  The right to use any or all of my orifices at any time and in any way my owner(s) may wish. The right to keep any and all of my orifices clamped or otherwise held open, and/or filled at any or all times, with any part of their (or others’) body, any sexual toys, instruments, devices, machines, etc., as my they may wish.


cw_  The right to surgically modify my body in any manner and for any purpose or use, and without limitation as to such modification, as my owner(s) may wish, and may include nullification of any of my senses, or any major modifications of my body up to and including removal of my limbs, as they may wish.


cw_  The right to share, loan, rent or sell me to any person or group of either sex, for any purpose or use, as my owner(s) may wish. Any or all the provisions of this contract may be applicable to those having temporary custody of me, as my owner(s) may (or may not) limit or designate.


cw_  The right to otherwise dispose of me at any time and in any manner my owner(s) choose, with or without specific reasons, without regard for existing civil laws, and without limitation. I understand that my disposal may be a painful and lengthy process, carried out over many hours or days.


By my signature below I become the property of my specified owner(s), and subject to, but not limited by, all of the above terms, all of which I understand and accept as indicated by my initial. I understand this contract surrenders me, without limits, is irrevocable and without recourse and is not subject to any laws other than full and complete satisfaction of any and all desires of my owner(s). I hereby relinquish all human or animal rights and become simply an owned object. I will exist solely at the pleasure of my owner(s) and for no other reason. They may dispose of me by any method and use my remains for any purpose they may wish. I hereby surrender and pledge my life to my owner(s) as security under this contract.



Cassandra Walker, mother, do surrender myself to my daughter/owner:

Signature :  Cassandra Walker_____________________  date :  7/1/14_____



Owner, Carina Walker daughter/owner:


Signature :  Carina Walker________________________  date :  7/1/14_____



Witnessed by, Janet Walker, mother of Cassandra:


Signature :  Janet Walker_________________________  date :  7/1/14_____


Witnessed by, Melinda Walker, sister of Janet, aunt of Cassandra:


Signature :  Melinda Walker_______________________  date :  7/1/14_____


Witnessed by, Maryanne Walker-Benson, sister of Cassandra:


Signature :  Maryanne Walker-Benson_______________  date :  7/1/14_____


Witnessed by, Linda Walker, sister of Cassandra:


Signature :  Linda Walker__________________________  date :  7/1/14_____


Ownership transferred to:


New owner #1:


Signature :  _____________________________________  date :  dd/mm/yyy_____


New owner #2:


Signature :  _____________________________________  date :  dd/mm/yyy_____


New owner #3:


Signature :  _____________________________________  date :  dd/mm/yyy_____


New owner #4:


Signature :  _____________________________________  date :  dd/mm/yyy_____


_____________________________


There are so many other papers I get a cramp in my hand from signing. Finally I’m finished. Miss Carrie comes to me and kisses my cheek, a rare bit of affection for me, and says, “you did just what you need to mom, I’m proud of you”. It makes me feel good. It’s coming clear now, I know I’ve signed everything to Miss Carrie, everything! She now has complete ownership and control of all of my financial accounts, my trust funds, our home, the autos that used to be mine, even my clothing. And I realize I now own NOTHING . . . not even MYSELF anymore. It is right, I know it, but still tears creep out of my eyes and trickle down my cheeks. No one notices or cares and Miss Hilary jerks on my leash and says, “back into the position now”. I do, I have to, and while the signing gave my sore muscles a chance to relax a bit, they immediately start to ache again. Then Miss Hilary takes that heavy weight and clips it onto my tongue ring again, and lets it drop. OOHHHH . . .  it feels like my poor tongue is being pulled out! Inother pain I have to endure. Everyone is celebrating while I stay there aching and drooling on myself. The women all ignore me as they talk and laugh, congratulate Miss Carrie, and drink their champagne. I kneel there, sore, shuddering, open mouth tilted up . . . waiting.


Then Miss Carrie comes over and strokes me gently again, saying, “you did a good job slut-mom, you’re making me proud to be your owner”. Then she turns to the others and says, “I think slut-mom should have some champagne too, don’t you all”? My sister Linda starts to bring over a bottle and glass for me, but Miss Carrie says, NO silly, that’s not what I meant”. I’ll go first, the rest of you should give her some too. Then she straddles my wide open mouth and pulls my head tight against her pussy. I have only a moment to realize and anticipate before the first stream hits the back of my throat, gagging me a bit. My tongue being pulled down by that weight, I have an open throat, and I have to swallow or choke myself. And I dare not choke and make a mess . . . I fight down my reflex and gulp and swallow as fast as I can. It’s not like I haven’t done this before. Finally the last few drops. Miss Carrie steps off and away from me and says, “next? . . . Grandma Janine”? My mother steps up, straddles my face, and does what Miss Carrie just did, emptying her bladder into my desperately gulping throat. I realize they’ll ALL have a turn . . . I just try not to think about it and concentrate on gulping and swallowing.


Finally they’re all empty, Miss Mira was the last. I feel so very full, bloated and a little sick. But I know I must keep it all down or face serious punishment. My poor, urine-filled belly gurgles and flip-flops. All SEVEN of them . . . I must have swallowed a gallon or more! Then Miss Hilary maliciously gives my bloated tummy a sharp poke with her finger, sending it churning. “You’ve had a bit too much to drink tonight Ms. Bennett”, she says, and then laughing, “but it’s O.K., I know you were celebrating”. At least she then unfastens that weight from my tongue and that’s a relief, the stretching was painful!.


Then Miss Carrie tells Miss Hilary, “let’s do this on the table, help me get her up there”. I’m lifted by the two and carried over to our glass-topped dining room table, then placed gently down on it. It’s a heavy, thick glass and it is as sturdy as steel. They lay me down across the shorter dimension, with my head hanging out over the edge. Then Miss Carrie tells Miss Hilary to bring the ropes over. Oh God, I’ve forgotten . . . now that I’ve signed my life over to Miss Carrie I am to be branded. I know it must be done but I’m afraid, I know it will be very painful. Then I feel hands grasping my ankles and tying ropes tight around them, then pulling them wide apart and tying them down at the corners of the table. Of course the way my body is lying across the table, my ankles must be spread out to the corners of the longest side of the table. My legs shouldn’t really spread that wide, but there are strong hands pulling and stretching me and I AM spread that wide, and it’s painful. My inner thigh muscles are stretched so tight they’re quivering with tension and stress, hurting already, and I’m sure it will get worse. I’m afraid now and I start to whimper. This is already hurting, and it’s going to hurt far worse when I’m actually branded . . . I hope I don’t scream too loudly!


I’m ignored for a short time, then they all gather around me. Miss Carrie leans over, smiling, and says, “Here’s the mark you’ll wear for the rest of your life . . . do you like it”? She holds a heated iron down so I can see it. It’s a foot or more away from me but I can feel the intense heat, and I start to whine and whimper more loudly. Miss Carrie says to the group, “can some of you help hold her still, I can tell she’s going to fight this and I want a nice, neat mark on her”. Then she says to Miss Hilary, “get ready to quiet her down, Hil”. I see them lean over me and feel hands holding down my hips and my knees; my thighs are immobilized pressed against the glass table-top. I lose sight of the red-hot iron and I don’t feel the heat near my face now. Miss Hilary steps forward so all I see is her lovely smooth pussy inches from my face, blossoming and dripping wet. Then . . .


OH GOD IT BURNS!!! I feel it press deep into my upper thigh and smell burning meat . . . and it’s MINE! I scream, “EEEEEiiiiiiiiiii”, but it’s quickly cut short and muffled by Miss Hilary pulling my face tight against her and clamping my face in her soft, but strong thighs. I’m still screaming, the pain gets worse and worse, but I know it’s virtually silenced by Miss Hilary’s tight grip on my face. Tears are bursting from my eyes, but I can’t sob . . . I can’t even breathe, she has be pressed so tight against her bottom. But after what seems like a long, long time (probably only a few seconds really) I feel the burning subside into a deep hurtful throbbing in my thigh. Miss Hilary releases my head and steps back. I can sob now and I do; sob deeply and whimper pitifully. And then I feel a warm wetness spreading under my wide-spread thighs and my rear. I must have peed myself, how humiliating. And then I have a flash of fear because I know I’ll be punished for it!


But then Miss Hilary bends down and kisses me and licks away some tears, saying, “you did a good job Ms. Walker, I know it hurt but you’re O.K. now; and it’s alright you made a mess, we all know it was because of the pain so you won’t be punished for it”. Then Miss Carrie leans down and, and tells me, “You did fine mom, just fine . . . I know it hurt but that can’t be helped . . . and now you’re marked as my property forever”. My head is spinning and my inner thigh still throbs with pain, but now I feel something cool being spread over my new brand. I’m lifted off the table, I can’t stand on my own I’m so stressed and shaken from the pain of the stretching and the branding, but Miss Hilary helps me stand. I feel the humiliating wetness being wiped off my rear and the backs of my thighs with a soft towel. I’m SOOOO thankful it’s over. Another milestone for me.


Hilary leads me in to bed now. I’m so, so thankful the evening is over for me, I’m not sure how I could stand much after my branding. As she is locking my chains to the bed frame I fall into a deep sleep.


The next few days are so very easy for me. Miss Carrie ignores me completely and Miss Hilary is caring for me. She was harsh with me during my training, but for these few wonderful days she is gentle . . . even affectionate, often kissing and caressing me. I still must wear my uniform, including my chastity belt, but the stocking on my branded leg is rolled down so it doesn’t cover the dressing there. She cares for my brand, changing the dressing often and keeping it covered with cooling slave. After 2 days the pain has subsided, but my thigh is still very sore and tender. I’m being treated so kindly that I am jumpy with fear that soon something horrible and painful will happen to me . . . but it never does. I am to go back to work soon, and I’m anticipating it with mixed feelings. I love (loved ?) my work and felt so successful in my profession, but now I am not sure how I feel. Yes, I DO want to get back to the office and to my clients, but I wonder how I will feel there and how I will perform? And Miss Lauren, my former assistant is to be in control of me . . . and I wonder how THAT will work out?


But I don’t think too deeply on it, just relax and enjoy what is happening at this time, my very few days of relief and relative comfort.



To be continued . . .


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 . . .


Enslaved by my Daughter – part 9


Oh my God, afternoon already. I had worked through my lunch and I was beginning to get my head back into my clients and their needs. And I certainly had no appetite anyway. But soon, too soon, it was time for my appointment with Sarai. Should I call her “Miss” Sarai, was that part of my new rules, would I be punished if I only used her first name? I had no idea what to, or not to, do when Miss Lauren stuck her head in the door and announced, “Ms. Ozturk is here for you”. A deep breath or two, oh God what would I do now, what would I say to my old friend and client . . . ?


Sarai stepped into my office and as usual she looked stunning. I looked up from my seat behind my desk shyly, knowing I would have to stand up and go to greet her with a hug as usual. I took a deep breath and stood, then stepped around my desk and over to where she was standing. As I approached her she looked me up and down and I saw her eyes widen a bit with surprise. But as I came close she smiled and hugged me tight saying, hello dear Cassie, it’s so good to see you”. She is about 5 foot 4 or 5 and wears high heels, but with my 5 foot 11 inch height and those horrible 7 inch stilettos I towered over her. I was always taller of course, but now she had to crane her neck to look up at my face. And worse, her tight, lasting return of my perfunctory hug pressed her lovely face right into my bra-less breasts. I felt myself flush with shame . . . what did my old friend think of me?


I kept waiting for Miss Lauren to leave my office so Sarai and I could get on with our business, but she didn’t, she stood there watching me. Then Sarai stepped back a few steps and again looked me up and down, then said, “turn around Cassie, let me see you”. I flushed with embarrassment again, but I noticed Miss Lauren’s hard look, and I remembered that she was “watching me” on Miss Carrie’s behalf. I had no choice and no sensible reason to refuse my old friend’s request, so I turned around slowly. “Let her get a look”, I thought. As I turned back to face her Sarai smiled widely and said, “so you have a new look Cassie (not a question really) . . . well I LIKE it, it makes you so sexy”! Then she asked me, “and what do you think Cassie”? I didn’t know what to say, but in any case Miss Lauren immediately spoke up. “She feels it expresses who she really is better than her old, conservative look, but she’s a little shy about it so she asked ME to tell you Ms. Ozturk.” I just looked at the floor, humiliated.


I finally spoke, saying, “Well Sarai, why don’t we get started reviewing the contracts for that business you’re buying”. But Sarai said, “oh Cassie, it’s been so long, let’s sit for a minute, let me take another good look at you”. I started to go around my desk to sit behind it, but Lauren blocked my way and said to me, “no, you sit there”, pointing to a low easy chair. In addition to my desk I have a low, padded sofa and chair in my office. Sarai sat down on the sofa across from me. I saw her looking me over again, this time with a bit of a gleam in her eye. She started with my face and slowly, very slowly ran her eyes down past my breasts (which felt to me so exposed I thought they might as well be naked) down to my feet. Those awful stilettos forced me to sit with my knees up high in front of me. I saw Sarai’s gaze pause when it reached the point of my knees. In the position I was sitting in that low chair it was hard to keep my knees together and my skirt had ridden up close to my crotch. I realized she was staring between my legs! And then I thought, “oh my God, she can see the metal of my chastity belt”, and I struggled to bring my knees together and pull my skirt down . . . but it was futile. I felt my face burning with shame.


We sat there in silence for several minutes. I looked up from time to time and saw her staring . . . and smiling, and I flushed with humiliation each time. Once I looked over at Miss Lauren leaning against my desk. She was smirking and she winked at me! I felt even worse than when I met Sarai’s lusty stare. Finally Sarai said to me, “O.K. Cassie, I’ve been teasing you. But I DO think you look really, really sexy, I think you’ve improved your ‘look’ now that you’re not being so conservative. But we do need to get down to business, don’t we?”


I replied, “yes we have a lot to do”, and we both moved over to the small table in my office and settled down to it. Lauren said, “if you need anything just let me know”, smiled, and went back to her own desk (finally). Somehow with her out of my office I felt a lessening of the pressure and stress I had been feeling until now. I got my head into things and we got down to work. We spent several hours, resolved some difficult contract issues, and finally finished after 6 o’clock. Some of the office staff had already left for the day. I felt good, my mind was still the old Cassandra Walker’s mind, sharp as ever. For a short time I had almost forgotten my new situation . . . almost . . . then Miss Lauren stepped into the office and said, “a call for you Ms. Ozturk, you can take it in here if you like”, nodding towards my desk. “That’s fine Lauren, thank you” she replied and stepped over to my desk to take the call. What I heard then snapped me back to who I really was NOW, and chilled me . . .


Sarai replied to the caller, “why hello Carrie, what a nice surprise to hear from you”. Oh my god, what would Miss Carrie tell her I wondered as my heart began thumping wildly. Was my old life to be over as soon as it began again? But the conversation seemed innocuous from the one side of it I heard until . . . “why of course, and Friday will be perfect . . . of course I’ll bring Sima, you’ll be surprised at how she’s grown”, Sarai said into the phone. Then, “of course Carrie, goodbye now, until Friday evening”. She turned to me and smiled, saying, “it was so nice of you and Carrie to invite us over Friday evening. I don’t think we had much chance to catch up on my last visit to the States, and you’ll be surprised to see how little Sima has grown, she just turned 15 and she’s already so much more beautiful than I am”. I was stunned, I’m sure I just stared, open-mouthed, speechless. Over for dinner? Friday? And with Sima, her young daughter. I hadn’t seen her for years, since was a mere child.


My mind was fragmented by thoughts of “Friday”! What would it be like? What would Miss Carrie make me do? Would I have to wear my regular “at-home” uniform? Oh I hoped not, but I probably wouldn’t know until Friday came. Whatever happened I was sure it would be most humiliating for me. So be it . . . it was what it was . . . and I was what I was as well; I knew that. Sarai and I finished up our business, but it wasn’t easy for me to concentrate now. I knew I was making mistakes in my notes, and after Sarai left I would need to go over them and correct them. This was just NOT “the old” Cassandra Walker! But perhaps it WAS the “new one”? Finally Sarai said to me, “well Cassie, I’ll leave you to it, I know you still have a lot of work on this”. As she walked out my office door she paused and turned, giving me a “smirky” smile and winking at me. I spent the rest of the afternoon getting her work organized. A year ago this would have taken me an hour or so, but now . . . too many doubts about myself, too many thoughts of “Friday” forcing their way into my mind. As it was I spent most of the afternoon on what should have taken me no more than an hour, hour and a half at most.


I realized it was almost time for me to go home, and surprisingly I wanted to do just that. At least there with Miss Carrie or Miss Hilary, my role was clear, I didn’t need to think, only act as I was instructed to act. It was so easy for me. Often painful, often humiliating, but so, so simple. I had wanted so badly to go back to my career, and now that I had gone back, I felt inadequate. I HAD changed! Lauren strode into my office surprising me, I thought she had gone home. But she reminded me of my appointment with Samantha. Oh, I hadn’t forgotten, that’s for sure. Now I would meet with Samantha, my long-time rival in the firm. And I wasn’t even sure what the meeting was supposed to be about since I had simply been instructed to do it. Then she stepped up to my desk, picked up my phone and dialed. “Hi Samantha----yes, she’s waiting for you----oh, any time you want to I suppose----and you’ll call her when you get here?----oh, good, you already have the number----well, see you tomorrow.” Then she said to me, “well I’m leaving now. You and Samantha are the last ones in the office, so be sure you lock up if you are the last to leave.” Samantha and I ALONE!? That frightened me, and I said, “oh Laur . . . I’m sorry I meant ‘Miss Lauren’ . . . please don’t leave me here alone”. She snapped back, “you aren’t alone you stupid slut, Samantha’s here”! She leaned across my desk and gave me a hard slap across the face then turned and walked out. I sat there stunned, my mouth hanging open, my cheek burning.


Just as I heard the outer door of our firm’s office suite close Samantha walked into my office. She walked right up to my desk, then picked up and dialed my phone. As soon as she finished dialing, and I heard, “hi----yes, she’s right here in front of me----yes, her office not mine----sure, I’ll put it on speaker”. Then she handed her phone to me and said, “I think this is for you”. Still stunned from that hard slap and puzzled, I took the phone from her not understanding anything. When I put the phone to my ear I heard Miss Carrie’s voice . . . “Hello slut-mom. I’m sure you haven’t figured this out yet, you’ve become so stupid, but Samantha is now your superior as well as Lauren. You will make certain you ALWAYS address her as MISS Samantha, in business meetings, in front of clients, in front of the other partners, ALWAYS. And you will obey any instructions or orders she gives you immediately, ANYTHING she tells you, you will do, do you understand?” I was still stunned, now even more so. I hated Samantha, absolutely HATED her. She was always a career rival, and since I had made partner ahead of her she had hated me even more than I hated her. And now . . . I couldn’t let myself think of it. I said softly into the speaker, “yes Miss Carrie”. Then Carrie spoke . . . “You heard that Samantha, right? If she ever even hesitates, you let me know and I can assure she will never hesitate again.”


Samantha said, “goodbye Carrie, and thank you so much for this”, then pushed the phone’s “off” button. She leaned across my desk, put her hand under my chin and lifted my head so I couldn’t avoid eye contact (which at this point I did NOT want, not with HER). She smiled broadly at me, a sweet smile really, but her eyes were hard and cold as ice. “You’re going to be a good little slut for me aren’t you Cassie”, she said. It wasn’t a question, she knew I must do as Miss Carrie had instructed me. “Now let’s see if you can be a good little slut for me”, she said, “stand up and strip”. I must have hesitated, Samantha my hated business rival giving me orders like that, it was something I was hard time getting into my head. I hadn’t intended to delay, I was just slow to adjust, but she leaned across my desk and gave me a very hard slap across my face saying, “I meant NOW, you useless bitch”. My eyes teared up immediately, but my hands got to work unbuttoning my blouse. “You don’t have to cry about it, you slut, you just need to get used to it”, she said to me smirking as I rushed to pull off my blouse and skirt. She had me frightened . . . I was disgusted with myself! Now I stood there, in front of Samantha naked except for my hose and stiletto heels. She eyed me up and down, smiled, and said, “well you may be just a dumb cunt, but you DO have a hot body”. And she leaned across my desk and flicked my now exposed chastity belt with her fingernail. She did this right over my clit, and just that tiny, tiny bit of vibration got me going. She smiled and said, “I see you can’t keep your hands off yourself can you slut?”


I was blushing with shame as she ordered, “on your knees and under your desk you stupid whore”. Now tears of humiliation dribbled down my cheeks and I sniffled . . . but I did as she told me. Once I was crouched uncomfortably under there she sat down in my chair and slid up to the desk. “Don’t let me have to tell you what to do now slut”, she said as she gripped my hair and pulled my face up under her dress and right against her pussy. She was wearing no panties, and I wondered if she normally came to the office that way or if she had removed them just before she came to see me. It didn’t really matter though, almost by reflex my tongue began to lick and probe her. I heard her moan softly and tighten her thighs around my face, even as she pulled my face tighter against her. It was only a moment before I felt her thigh muscles begin a tell-tale shuddering and then suddenly she orgasmed, and again, gushing right in my face. I kept licking and lapping, I had been trained, I knew what must be done. Samantha must have orgasmed 4 or 5 times as I licked and probed at her . . . I was almost proud of my performance. Then she relaxed her legs and rolled the chair back, saying, “all right slut, come out from under there, but stay on your knees”. I crawled slowly out on hands and knees and around to the front of my desk where Samantha stood, smiling down at me. She had something in her hand.


No, she wasn’t yet finished with me yet. She bent down to my face and worked a very large ring gag into my mouth, painfully stretching my jaws, and strapped it in tightly. In the back of my mind I must have known what was coming, but I didn’t let myself recognize it. Then she stepped across my face straddling it, and moved her feet closer together, bracing against the back of my shoulders with the back of her thighs, and forcing me to arch my head far back. That required me to shuffle my knees to the sides until my kneeling legs were spread apart. She looked down at me and smiled as she said, “you look thirsty Cassie, how about a nice drink”. She grabbed my hair at the top of my head forcing it down and back even further, raised her dress, and pulled my wide open mouth against her warm, wet pussy. I had to deal with what was coming now, I couldn’t avoid thinking about it any longer. Her warm, rank stream splashed against the back of my throat and I coughed and choked. But I had been trained for this too, so I gulped and swallowed all she had to give me. But . . . Samantha . . . the woman I positively hated, my rival at work, the woman I had beaten to a partnership and gloated over it! Now I was on my knees for her drinking her urine. It was a devastating blow to my psyche. I had done this for Carrie and Hilary of course, and then my mother, aunt and two sisters and finally my office assistant (I guess she’s really more than that now) Lauren . . . but SAMANTHA! I know this is all at Miss Carrie’s direction, and I know her intent is to humiliate and eventually destroy me, but doing this with Samantha is one of the worst things for me. I suppose that’s why she did it!


Finally Samantha was done with me. She unfastened the gag straps and took it out. My jaw muscles ached and burned like fire from being spread and stretched as they were. I couldn’t even close my mouth right away. Samantha walked over to my desk and I shakily rose to my feet and turned to see what she would do. She opened a drawer and started throwing the contents out onto the floor. I opened my mouth to say something, to stop her, but then I thought better of it. She looked at me and said, “this drawer will be our little private toy box from now on, my little slut”, then she dropped the ring gag harness into the drawer and closed it. She was done with me now. She straightened her dress, shook her hair out, and turned and walked away without another word. I stood there stunned, my mind empty. I don’t know how long I stood there, but after a time I heard the outer door of our offices close and I knew she had left.


I was more than stunned, I was feeling more humiliated than ever before in my entire life, I was feeling completely helpless . . . defeated. I don’t know how long it took me to dress myself again and fumble the things Samantha had thrown out of my desk onto the floor back into a different drawer. Why didn’t I defy her, throw that gag away and put my things where they had been? It crossed my mind briefly, but I knew I wasn’t capable of it any more. I had become someone, something “different”. I didn’t like it, not at all. But I understood and accepted the inevitability of it.


It was late, I looked at my watch in fright. What if Miss Carrie was angry with me? But she must have known what would happen after she spoke to us on the phone. I just hoped I was right. I wanted to get home, I was in a hurry. I needed rest, sleep and I hoped I would be allowed some tonight . . . I never knew what Miss Carrie had planned for me. I left the office and locked up behind me. I was exhausted as I slowly walked out, to the elevators down to the parking garage . . .


To be continued . . .


Enslaved by my Daughter – part 10


The morning after my “initiation” with Samantha, as I was just about to leave for work, Miss Carrie gave me a package. “This is something for both you and Samantha”, she told me, “talk to her first thing, as soon as you arrive, and open it together; there are some directions in the package and I want you to read them to her.” With that she slapped me on the ass and opened the door for me saying, “better get moving slut, you don’t want to be late”. The package was sizable and weighed at least 10-15 pounds. I wanted to open that package so badly, but I knew I didn’t dare, it would show and I’d be in big trouble then. And what did it matter anyway if I knew what was in it before I got to the office, I would know soon enough then. But I was sure I wouldn’t like whatever it contained. I couldn’t keep from glancing at it as I drove downtown to our building’s garage. I didn’t know what it contained, but I was sure it would be something unpleasant for me.


As I entered my office I noticed something new, a small table of a sort, about 6-8 inches wide, 2 feet long and perhaps 30 inches tall, about dining-table height, off to the side of the office. It had a padded top and the legs spread out so that it would be extremely stable. My office is quite large so there was plenty of room for this along with my desk, three chairs in front of it, and a sofa along one wall. What in the world, I wondered? It wasn’t there when I left yesterday evening, where had it come from overnight? And WHY? But knowing I had more work today on Sarai’s contracts, I promptly settled in behind my desk. Just then Miss Lauren came in and looking at the package on my desk, told me harshly, “you’re to call Samantha for a meeting right now . . . and don’t forget, she’s MISS Samantha to you”. I looked at the files in front of me on my desk, then up at my computer screen at the document I needed to work on. But I HAD to obey Miss Lauren. I dialed Samantha’s extension, and she picked up and said, “good morning slut”. I asked her if she would please come down to my office, that Miss Carrie had given me a package for her. She just hung up the phone and almost immediately appeared in my office. Miss Lauren was still there, and Miss Samantha told her she should stay with us. Then Miss Samantha began to open the package, smirking at me as she said, “I just love surprises, don’t you”?


Miss Samantha finished un-wrapping the package, then looked over at Miss Lauren, who went up to my desk and swept the files I needed to use onto the floor, scattering papers everywhere. I protested immediately, but she said, “SHUT UP SLUT”, and slapped me hard, 3 times, across my face, until tears came to my eyes. Then she said, “get over here in front of the desk where we can see you . . . NOW”. Frightened and intimidated I did it quickly. Then Miss Samantha ordered, “now take off your skirt and blouse you useless whore”. I clenched my jaw, I was so very angry. I wanted to attack her then and there, beat her until she cried for mercy. I was much bigger and stronger than she was, and probably much more fit and athletic, but I couldn’t move. I knew the consequences if I did anything. I was not so much afraid of Miss Lauren or Miss Samantha, but of my daughter. If I did attack either of them she would find out I would suffer terribly. My darling daughter who I had nurtured and raised, and up until her graduation party had always directed and controlled (but gently, lovingly) . . . now I was frightened of her . . . terrified in fact! I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t move for a moment. But then I did as I had been told, I removed my skirt and blouse. I stood there, humiliated again, wearing only my hose, stiletto heels and of course my chastity belt.


Then Miss Samantha went to my desk, and dumped out the contents of the package on it’s now empty top. I gasped and my eyes went wide as I saw what had been in the package. And there was a piece of paper there as well, which Miss Samantha picked up and after looking at briefly, handed to me saying, “this is for you slut”. I stared for a minute, stunned by all this, it was from Miss Carrie. Then I read her words silently, “slut-mom, you are to read the following aloud for Lauren and Samantha, and understand that I am ordering you to comply with everything you read to them”. I read ahead silently briefly, a natural reaction. What I saw made me gulp hard and set tears forming in my eyes. I stopped reading and began again, at the beginning, trying to keep my voice from cracking or trembling. My heart sank further and further as I read aloud the words I must obey . . .


“Miss Samantha, I agree to willingly obey any and all instructions you give to me here at the office.” God, those words stuck in my throat, but I knew I must say them . . . and get used to them! “I happily volunteer to perform any and all tasks you require of me enthusiastically, including any sexual services or uses you desire from me. The equipment included within the package you just received is for you to use with me and will be kept in my desk drawer with the ring-gag already there. I know that if I perform satisfactorily for you, my owner Miss Carrie may allow you to borrow me for your own personal use, for evenings or perhaps for entire week-ends, and at these times you have the right to share my services and usage with any number of others you desire. I will have no limits where you are concerned, except those established by my owner Miss Carrie. During the workday, and whenever I am loaned out to you, I am yours to command at any and all times and will diligently indulge your every desire.”


By now Miss Samantha and Miss Lauren were laughing and giggling. Partly at the thought of the fun and games ahead for them, and partly at watching me force myself to agree to something that is totally repugnant to me. They knew I had no choice, and I believe that Miss Samantha liked it that way. She wouldn’t want to “have me” willingly, she would prefer that I hate every minute of it. I was still at the beginning of an understanding and acceptance of my subservience to Miss Carrie, and already more was being added to my humiliation. I had been on the “fast track” upwards all my life, and now it was apparently to be that same swiftness as I go DOWN. My thinking was interrupted by the two of them giggling again, and saying we should all look through what Carrie (that’s how THEY addressed her, I had to use Miss) had sent in the package.


I had taken my attention away from the desk-top while I was reading. Now I didn’t want to look at what I had briefly glimpsed being dumped out of the package, but my eyes were drawn back to it. They both ignored me as they pawed through the things Miss Carrie sent to the office with me. They laughed and giggled as they held up object after object and looked at me and smiled and made horrible comments. There were 2 of everything, riding crops, many sizes and styles of clamps, strap-on’s with several dildo sizes (the smallest of which was as large as anything I had yet taken), leather cuffs for ankles and wrists, tie-down straps in several sizes, steel handcuffs . . . and rope, so much rope. My heart pounded and my belly clenched and flipped as I imagined . . . ? And my spirit fell so low . . . I realized I WAS what they had called me, slut, whore, stupid, every insulting term they used for me. I hated all of it and yet I would submit to all of it. I felt I must, but also began to feel that it was right that I do. The size of the dildos frightened me, so very BIG, but I thought I might be safe because my chastity belt had a locking plate that covered the anal ring in the rear of it. But then Miss Lauren picked up an envelope and shook out a small key. Of course it was the key to the locks on my chastity belt. No, I wouldn’t be safe from the dildos after all.


Only an hour or so had passed and it was early mid-morning still. Miss Samantha said to Miss Lauren, “I have lots to do today, but why don’t you give me a call when everyone has gone for the day. I hope you’ll be able to stay and help me try out all of little Cassie’s new toys with her.” “And her new furniture”, she added, looking over at that newly arrived bench in my office. Of course Miss Lauren agreed, then she said to me, “and you’d better get to work slut, you have a lot that’s due today”.  Samantha had just walked out and now Miss Lauren left, but not before gathering up my skirt and blouse and taking them out with her, thankfully closing the door on her way. She was gone before I could say anything, and I crept up to the door and cracked it open slightly to see if I could call her back and plead with her to leave me my clothes. But she was nowhere to be seen, and I noticed one of the lawyers and an intern looking my way. I only had my head partway out and I know they didn’t see that I was unclothed, but I quickly pulled back in and shut the door again. I turned the lock button to make sure I wouldn’t be “surprised”.


My head was spinning but I had to get on with my work. In spite of Miss Samantha and Miss Lauren, in spite of everything, my job was important to me. It was really the last of my old self, and I was desperate to keep it and keep doing a good job of it. Angrily I picked up the files and papers that had been swept off my desk. It took me almost ½ hour of sorting through them to get everything back to where it was in the first place. I needed to stay focused, there were a lot of important details I needed to get into this new set of contracts, I couldn’t afford any mistakes. And these were for Sarai, my oldest, best client and by now a good friend. I wanted her work to be perfect! But it was so hard to keep my mind on what I was doing. I kept remembering back to earlier today, kept glancing at the awful desk drawer. I even opened it a couple of times, but quickly slammed it back shut. I didn’t WANT to see what was in there . . . and even a brief glance brought horrible visions into my mind, destroying my concentration. And at the end of the day today . . . I just pushed that out of my mind. If I thought too much on THAT, I would give up and just sit her and cry.


I finally got to a point with Sarai’s contracts that I just couldn’t concentrate any more. It was cold in my office and I was naked. I was covered with goosebumps and of course my nipples were erect and hard as little rocks. Yes, I touched them and twisted the rings through them giving them a tiny twinge of mild pain. That was frustration though, since it was arousing me, but my belt was preventing me from going any farther. So there I sat, playing with myself as best I could, feeling aroused, but even more frustrated. My clit just ACHED for a touch . . . but it was safely locked away from my fingers. I finally realized I had been playing with myself, to no avail, for over an hour. Where had my mind been? I snapped myself back to reality. Naked or not, I needed to be sure that contract was finished. I started looking at it again, but I immediately saw a couple of errors that should have been obvious. I was so angry, so frustrated, I began to cry. Just then Miss Samantha and Miss Lauren unlocked my door and walked in. They saw my tears and laughed at me. “Don’t be sad you silly cunt”, Samantha said, “it’s playtime”! I remembered everything from this morning and broke out into deep sobs and the tears streamed down my already streaked face. Where had the day gone? And I hadn’t done my usual excellent job on Sarai’s contract, in fact I didn’t even do a half-decent job, a paralegal could have done better. And now I would act the fuck-whore for my worst enemy and someone who used to be my employee. “Maybe I’ll be good at THAT”, I thought in disgust with myself.


It was in that frame of mind that I looked up and saw Miss Samantha walk through my office door followed by Miss Lauren. Miss Samantha smiled and said, “well slut, time for some fun before you go home”; then she said to me, “go to your “toy drawer” and get out your ring-gag harness, all the ropes and cord, 2 strap-ons . . . no never mind, I’ll pick those out myself . . . lay it out on your desk, oh and 2 riding crops. Then pull your table out from the wall and stand over by it”. I must have hesitated because she leaned across my desk, slapped my face hard and shouted, “NOW” and I immediately opened the drawer and began to get out what she had asked for. Anger again, but I rushed to obey. Something inside me knew that these women had complete power over me.


I stood there helpless and humiliated and watched those two pawing through what I had spread on my desk-top for them. Miss Lauren picked up the ring-gag harness and came over to me. Wearing my 5-inch stiletto heels I towered over her by almost a foot and she had to reach up to force the gag into my mouth. It was still a bit too large for my mouth and she had to force it to get it in properly. Then she buckled it in tight. My jaw was already aching from the stress of being forced open so wide. In the meantime Miss Samantha brought the ropes over and they began looping them around my ankles and tying them tight, tight enough to hurt. Then I felt a hand roughly push me down onto the padded table-top. Then they quickly strapped me down to the bench. I was at the end where the legs spread out to the sides and they jerked my legs out roughly and tied them to the table legs, spreading them wide. They pulled me arms back behind my back and bound my wrists together and then my elbows, pulling the so tightly together that they touched. It hurt, they tied the ropes tight and I felt them cutting into my tender flesh. Then they pulled at my nipple rings until my breasts hung down at each side of the narrow table-top, and looking some pieces of cord through each ring, pulled them down hard, stretching my poor breasts until I thought my nipples would be ripped off, and tied the binding cord to the other table legs. I thought they were done now, but Miss Lauren threaded another piece of rope through the d-ring at the top of the gag harness and pushing my chin up she pulled my head back sharply and tied the rope off through those binding my elbows together. My hands and feet were already tingling from loss of circulation, and the pain was beginning to grow, and now my neck ached as well. I was in a horribly painful and vulnerable position . . . and completely immobilized. Whatever they wanted to do to me, there would be no resistance or interference from me. I shivered in terror and tears welled up and began to run down my cheeks.


Miss Samantha and Miss Lauren just looked at me and laughed . . .


To be continued . . .


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