2 comments/ 17991 views/ 4 favorites Jenn's Journey Ch. 00 By: subjenn24 "Tonight?" I said, exacerbated. "Why in the world would you spring this on me tonight?" "I'm not springing anything on you young lady," Mom replied sternly. "It's a special night for me too and I want to bring someone." I gave her a hard stare but it didn't work. "He won't hamper your good time. Just be polite and introduce yourself. After that you can go out with your little friends like you had planned." Her words had finality. There was no point in arguing. But I was still mad about it. "I knew you've been up to something," I said, then I stormed off to the shower to get ready for the night ahead. Ahead of me was a night that was sure to change everything: My high school graduation. I'm a realist so I didn't see it as some kind of major accomplishment. However, I couldn't help but feel like mother was trying to steal my thunder by bringing her new boyfriend to the ceremony. Actually, "new boyfriend" is probably a misleading term. I've been suspicious for almost a year that she was dating someone and thought it might be getting serious. My family had speculated and whispered about it but she was always evasive when asked directly. "He's just an old friend," she'd say. "I'm not sure you'd call him a boyfriend." It wasn't until a few months ago that she actually acknowledged there was a man. When I asked when I would meet him, she would never say for sure. "In due time," she would always reply. Tonight, that due time had lapsed. The moment I met him stands out as a clear, pleasant memory. Though I had no idea that moment would take me to where I now sit. * * * * "Congratulations," he said, standing behind mother after the ceremony. He extended a handshake. I just stood there, struck by how handsome he was. "I'm Francis, by the way" he said. My mouth was agape at the sight of him. It was not that I lose it over guys but he was different. Fit, handsome, well-dressed and well-spoken. He was around 40, just a bit younger than mother. He had a tan complexion, with dark hair and eyes to match. "Jenn," I said back, suddenly embarrassed. I've never loved the way I looked but I remember feeling particularly self-conscience at the moment. I've always been overweight, but at the time I was 284 pounds. I'd ordered the biggest graduation gown in the catalog but it still managed to hang on me like a frumpy dress rather than an oversize robe like it was supposed to. I had just turned 18 a week before but he met my gaze an offered a smile that made me feel suddenly like a child. I pulled the stupid mortar board cap off my head and started fixing my short, brown hair. After our introduction, I went on about my business the rest of the night -- going out with my little friends, as mother had put it. Though there was much more to think about that evening, the thought of him continually came back to mind. I was shocked, for lack of a better term. Don't get me wrong, my mother was very beautiful, especially for being 42 years old. She was fit, never smoking or over eating and always taking great care of herself by jogging every day. However, she always seemed to date losers and poindexters one after another and -- thankfully -- never for very long. I'd only known him for a second, but Francis seemed like he was actually worthy of her. Maybe that's why she took so long to introduce us. * * * * As weeks went by that summer I began to see more and more of him. Though he lived in downtown Phoenix, only about 30 minutes away from our suburban home, he would often stay over on Saturday or Sunday nights. He made mother very happy, which made me feel even more guilty about the thoughts I had about him. As he visited more often, our routines started to change. He brought a touch of luxury to our small, two-bedroom house. In some ways, that was annoying. For instance, mother began insisting that I keep the house spotlessly clean. However, it wasn't all bad. I remember one evening where the three of us were sitting down to a dinner, enjoying some Italian dish he'd prepared that we'd never had before. I came to the table surprised that he had poured me a glass of Italian wine. "What's this," I said. "Sassicaia," he replied. " It's a red wine from outside of Tuscany. It complements the dish. Tell me what you think." I looked at mother for approval. She didn't object so I assumed I had it. The taste was deep, stronger than I had ever had before but I wasn't much on wine at the time. "Well?" Francis asked. "It's strong. I like it though." Mom never interjected, commenting only that she liked it as well. We all three drank up that night, Francis never bothering to stop pouring. Still sitting at the dinner table, the buzz I got off of that wine helped me realize something I had until this point been afraid to admit to myself: I wanted to have sex with my mother's boyfriend. A few weeks later I acted on that urge, but it didn't work out as I had planned. * * * * After high school ended I had no idea what I was to do with my life. I applied at a couple of colleges around the region but the cost of higher education made it seem unobtainable. So for the moment, I was a 3rd shift fast food worker. Each shift seemed like an endless living hell, so I looked for anyway to make it better -- sometimes to my own detriment. One such indulgence was that I would always steal food as I cooked it. One Saturday night that July, my boss caught me hanging over the griddle with a mouthful of hamburger. He screamed at me about stealing company property, warned me that I was on thin ice and sent me home hours before my shift ended. It had been a rough day, but I remember seeing Francis' car as I came up the driveway. That made things a bit brighter. Though I was home early, it was still the middle of the night. I crept in quietly, figuring everyone was asleep. "Jenn?" I heard him whisper as I slowly shut the front door behind me. I turned and saw him leaning in from the back deck. "Francis. Is that you?" "It's me. C'mon out." He was sitting alone on the deck alone, a bottle of Sassicaia beside him. It was a curious scene but I didn't hesitate of course. "Where's mom?" I asked him as I walked out and situated myself across from him on our high-top deck table. "Asleep a bit too early for me," he said. "Figured I'd wait up a bit and have a drink." I was more interested in him than the drink, but I told him go ahead and pour me a glass. I wasn't sure exactly how to handle the situation. I loved my mother and had no intention of trying to steal someone she cared about. At the same time, however, it wasn't up to me. He was strong, engaging and, more than anything, in control. Though I stank like fast food, I felt that I looked pretty that night. My face has always been my strong point. Men always complemented me on my big brown eyes, pearl skin and full lips, which I had painted pink with lipstick that night. Francis didn't talked much as he poured me glass after glass and let me vent about everything -- from the rough night I'd just had to my frustrations about not being able to go to college. We sat in the moonlight and talked for an hour or so. I loved every second of it, of course, but the bottle -- and in essence, our time that night -- ended more quickly than I would have liked. Finally, he said what I had been dreading since I sat down. "You need to go get in bed. I'm already in enough trouble for getting you drunk." "I'm not drunk," I said back. "You don't have any more?" "To bed," he said firmly. He had never talked to me like that before -- so stern, like a parent. Part of me loved it and part of me resented it. However, I didn't feel that arguing was in my best interest. He helped me out my chair, grabbing the glasses that we'd used and opening the door for me. I stepped into the darkness of the house. Neither of us turned the lights on as we moved forward. I was seething. I couldn't stand the thought of our time coming to an end. Maybe it was the wine, but I decided to make my move, pulling the door shut then rubbing his crotch with my fingers as I drew my hand back. He slapped them down. "Bed," he repeated. I was crushed. I felt my heart flutter a bit, hoping he wouldn't tell mother that I had touched him. I turned and began walking across the living room in the dark toward my bedroom. He walked past me not saying a word and entered my mother's room. I closed my bedroom door and switched on the light. Once in, I pulled off my clothes and headed for the shower in my attached bathroom. It felt good to wash the fast food stench off but it also gave me a second to think about what just happened out there. "If it comes up, I'll deny it," I thought to myself. Satisfied with that, I turned off the water, wrapped a towel around myself and headed back into the bedroom. Then, something on the nightstand caught my eye. It was a whole bottle of the Sassicaia and the glass I had been using. A note lay beside it. "Thought you could use a night cap -- F." A peace offering, no doubt, but it was one that started my motor running again. I let the towel drop on the floor and poured myself a glass of the wine. The bottle was nearly full. I sat there in the still of the night, naked on my bed enjoying a sip and a thought about him, touching me, commanding me in his stern way. I dimmed the lights as I finished the first glass. I poured another, sat up on the bed with my legs open and began rubbing my clit. For several minutes I sat there, groping my own tits and rubbing my pussy. I imagined it was him going inside me. The night was still and silent. Then, out of no where, I began to hear the most faint moan. I leaned against the headboard, still fondling myself. It was coming from mother's room, a moan of pleasure. I sat there a while and listen it seemed to grow louder. I poured another glass, finishing the bottle. I flipped off the light and listened as my mother got what I had been desiring all night. My head was against the wall as I listened and continued to rub myself. I've heard her have sex before but this was the first time I ever remember enjoying the sound. I closed my eyes, thinking of him, finished my wine and continued to rub myself as I heard her moans get louder. Finally, my hips clinched and my body tightened as I reached a climax. He'd just made us both cum at the same time. The next morning things were different between Francis and I. I didn't get a moment alone to thank him for the wine but he knew I was grateful. We shared a few smiles at the breakfast table and he was off, back to his side of town. For me, it was back to the grind as well, with nothing to look forward to until his return the next weekend. Or so I thought, anyway. * * * * I walked into my room about three nights later. It was 5 a.m., and I had just finished another long shift over a greasy fast food griddle. My only wish was to shower and go to bed. I reached into the shower and twisted the facet handle then turned toward the closet and reached for a towel. Then, just as a few nights before, something out of place caught my eye. A small, plain envelope sat on the towel shelf in my bathroom. It was unsealed, "Jenn" written on the front. Quickly I opened it up wondering where the hell it came from. "You and I should talk away from your home. Come to my office downtown at 2 p.m. tomorrow -- F." At the end of the note there was an address. My mind fluttered and my heart raced. I was as good as there. * * * * The next day I told mother I was going shopping with friends, then made my way downtown. On my way there I thought about everything that had happened and what would come next. It was the middle of summer, so I had an excuse not to wear much. I had on a short purple dress that showed off my tits, my prettiest black bra and lacy black panties underneath. I woke up early, after barely sleeping anyway, and meticulously fixed my hair and did my makeup. And I stole a pair of purple heals from my mom to complete the outfit. Sitting at a red light, I stared at them, thinking of what else I was trying to of steal from her. It wasn't that I wanted to take him away. It was that he treated me in a way no other man ever had. Not to mention he had some sort of unexplainable control over me. There had never been a man I wanted to please so much, sexually or otherwise. * * * * After parking my car, I made my way to his suite. "Jenn?" A receptionist called out as I walked off the elevator and into Francis office. "Yes," I replied. "Right this way," she said, leading me to a seating area behind her station. "I'm sure he'll be right with you." The receptionist was kind and gorgeous and I was instantly jealous of her. She had a tiny figure, probably no more than 100 pounds, but her tits were bigger than mine. She wore a tight, form-fitting skirt that showed every inch of her off. "I'm Mel," she said, "Can I get you something to drink?" "No," I replied, trying not to sound resentful toward her. I hated that she seemed sweet. Mel walked back to her station and called Francis. "Sir, Jenn is out here." A few seconds passed. "Yes Sir." She hung up the phone. "He'll be right with you." I sat there for several minutes, looked around a bit at my surroundings. The office was elegant, a large window overlooking downtown behind me. My chair was facing inward, toward Mel. She stood there working with her back to me. I remember looking at her shoes -- tall, 6-inch heels. I found it peculiar that she didn't have a chair. Did she stand all day in heels like that, I thought to myself. No wonder her calves were so tone. I wanted to ask but thought better of it. Finally the phone buzzed and she answered. "Right away Sir," she said into the phone. With that she signaled me to follow her. * * * * Francis sat behind a large, beautiful desk in front of a huge window in his office. "Jenn," he said, "I'm so glad you accepted my invitation. Sit." I had never seen a chair like the one he had waiting for me. It was bright red with two indention in the seat that formed a V-shape coming from the back. I sat down and immediately notice how difficult it was to cross my legs with them in the indentions. The back was circular, pushing my chest out. "Mel bring us some water please," he said. "Yes Sir," she said. "Jenn I don't want to waste your time. And I assume that because you came up here you are interested in me, correct?" My face went red. He was always very blunt but I didn't expect he would be so forward. I was a deer in the headlights at the moment. "It's OK. Nothing you say here will leave this room." I shook my head. And he asked again. "Are you interested in me?" "Yes, I am," I said finally. "Good," he replied. Mel entered the room again with two glasses and a pitcher of water. She began pouring as we spoke. "Now, how familiar are you with the world of BDSM. Has your mother told you anything," he asked. "No," I said. "I've heard about it of course." I gave him a puzzled look. "I didn't realize that was the nature of your relationship." "It's OK," he said. "I didn't think she would have said anything. Tell me, have you ever been curious about BDSM?" It was true that I had always been curious about kinkier forms of sex but I had never engaged in anything serious, save for a spanking or two. His line of questioning aroused me greatly, it turned out. I sat there with my legs forced open by the chair, now realizing why he owned such a device, and felt my pussy begin to get wet. Mel finished pouring the water and stood behind me -- not speaking, just waiting for instructions. "Yes, I have been curious," I said finally. "Excellent," he said. He began to explain the lifestyle to me in simple terms. There are Dominants and submissive, and in some cases Masters and slaves. "I'm a Master," he said. "I train submissive women to be slaves, sometimes for myself and sometimes for others," he said. "I only work with those who are completely willing. And I only work with women who are willing to prove to me that they are worthy of being my slave." I sat there shocked by his ideas. It ran contrary to everything a girl is told growing up. "It's a long process," he said. "Mel here has been under my wing for more than 4 years and she is one of my finest. It can be a transforming experience for the right woman." I didn't know what to say. I knew there was something coming but I couldn't have begun to guess what it was. I had nothing but questions in my mind. Finally, I started to blurt a few of the stupider ones out. "What would I do? Would I work here?" He smiled. "You could live your life. You could continue living at home and work here if you like. Or I could get you your own place. Or I could get you a better job than the one you have. I could even pay for your college if you like. I can pull many strings if you're willing to accept the role." "What all would I have to do," I asked. "You would have to trust," he said. "There will be many requirements, trials. Everything will be controlled -- your meals, your dress. You'll be whored out, humiliated both mentally and physically for the sexual gratification of others. And that's just the beginning. If some pervert can imagine it -- there's a good chance you'll be asked to do it. " "Why would I agree to that," I said. "That's a fair question," he said. "You have to ask yourself if this life is for you. He paused for a moment, then continued, "Are you aroused right now? Could there be something to that?" I stared blankly. "I know your type, Jenn. I'm rarely wrong," he said. "Do you see all women as your underlings," I asked. "Absolutely not," he said. "Some women are dominants. I know women who are far crueler than I, some sickeningly so. And I'll warn you, if you accept the role as my slave you absolutely will have to serve some of them as well. Many times I seek their advice when training a new submissive." I had never been with a woman but always had been curious about bisexuality. I felt like I was in completely over my head and I think Francis recognized it. "Look," he said. " You don't have to decide today. In fact, if you don't want to, we never have to discuss this again." At that moment he reached into a drawer on his desk and pulled out a nicely wrapped gift. "I will be back at your house in 10 days, at my usual time. If you are interested in pursuing this lifestyle, answer the door in the outfit I've enclosed. If you're not interested, then simply don't. And I will never ever ask you about it and pretend this conversation never took place." "That's it," I asked. "What if I decide to put it on, is there any going back?" He smiled at me, I think because he knew I wanted to submit. "You'll be given plenty of chances to back out early on," he said. "If you decide to put the outfit on, you'll be acknowledging that you're a sub and you'll be treated as one. However, you'll be asked to perform three tasks as sort of an initiation. You'll be free to give up at any time during those task. Once you've finished those, you'll be branded with a tattoo-- something you'll have to ask for, mind you. Before you receive the tattoo you're still free to leave the lifestyle. But once you've completed the tattoo branding ritual, you're acknowledging that you're a permanent slave." I swallowed hard at the prospect. "What do you mean," I asked. He looked at Mel. "Show her." Mel didn't hesitate at all. I could tell she'd been given the order before. She stepped in front of my chair, pulled up her tight skirt and bent over the desk. She wasn't wearing panties. There, tattooed onto her right ass cheek was a symbol. I starred at it for a long moment as she bent over in front of me. There was something beautiful about it, about giving everything up and accepting the role of a slave as she had. Jenn's Journey Ch. 00 "You could be just like her Jenn," Francis said. "Take the package. Think about it." Jenn's Journey Ch. 01 (Most of the names/place names are changed and the dialogue is from memory. Other than that, this is based on my own true story. The story makes more sense if you start at the beginning.) * For almost two weeks I went back and forth in my mind. Was it true? Am I a naturally submissive woman as Francis had implied? Am I hungry for it? He didn't tell me much about what I would be doing. Whoring. Being controlled and humiliated. Submitting to other women. There were so many questions. How could I choose to pursue a life that I know so little about? What if I were given a task that I were completely unable or unwilling to do? At one point I had completely decided against it. There's no way I can dive into a lifestyle like the one he proposed -- willing to accept any task, sexual or otherwise, as a command. It occurred to me that as I contemplated these things I always found my hands wandering, touching myself as I thought about it. What did that mean? That I was meant for it? It was the day that Francis was to show up and I had but a few hours to make a decision. I stood naked in my room. I had already showered, fixed my hair and makeup. I stared at the present he'd given me a few weeks ago at his office and remembered his words. "If you are interested in pursuing this lifestyle, answer the door in the outfit I've enclosed," he had said in such a sure voice. "If you're not interested, then simply don't." I had looked at the outfit days ago. A very sexy red blouse that was perfectly cut to show off my tits, a tight leather micro-skirt that hung only a few centimeters past my ass and a pair of 6-inch red heals. I can put the outfit on and still back out, I thought to myself. I took a deep breath and began putting it on. I wanted him and would do anything to please. Considering my figure, I'd never felt comfortable in such trampy outfits, but these seemed to fit me perfectly in all the right places. The shirt perfectly displayed my tits, the skirt was not an inch too loose or too tight, even the shoes were perfectly sized. I wondered how much he'd sized me up over the last few months in order to get my measurements so exact. I stared at myself in the mirror, wondering what the night would hold. When Francis propositioned me, he spoke of three initiation task I would have to complete in order to become his slave. What would they be? Would they start tonight? I wondered to myself about a lot of things. A slave is tattooed, he had told me. How willing would I be to bend over and allow his insignia to be permanently inked onto me as Mel had. I touched myself as I thought of the prospect and checked myself out in the mirror. Mel was a knockout. I was only 5 feet 2 inches and weighed 284 pounds. Even though I was big, my tits were only a C cup and my belly stuck out further than they did. I was younger, having just turned 18 a few months prior. But still, why did he even want me when he has women like her, I wondered silently. My phone suddenly rang and startled me out of my self critique. "Hello," I said. It was my mother. "Jenn -- are you at home?" "Yes, just getting dressed." "Good. I'm running behind and I think Francis is on his way over. Could you let him in?" "Of course," I said, instantly struck with the guilt that can only come to a daughter who's planning to steal her mom's boyfriend. "Thanks, hun. I should be there in a few hours." * * * * I sat in the living room and watched the front door in the outfit he'd provided. Finally, the doorbell rang. I took a deep breath and answered. Francis was standing in the door way with a smile on his face as the door swung open. "I see you've made a good decision," he said. I could tell that my choice to put on the outfit didn't surprise him in the least. He was extremely confident, even when he first approached me. He walked through the door, stepped into the kitchen, and shut the door behind him. "You're sure about this?" he asked. "Yes Sir," I replied. He smiled at how quickly I picked up the etiquette. "Put your hands behind your back, stick your chest out and focus your eyes straight forward," he instructed. I did as he asked. I felt him tap my thighs apart slightly. "Legs slightly apart," he said. "All parts of you need to be accessible." "This is known as inspection," he explained. "When a dominant calls for inspection you'll need to take this position. Don't speak unless spoken to and don't make eye contact." "Yes Sir," I said, staring straight ahead. He walked around me, rubbing his hands along my waist and belly. Finally his hands moved upward along the seems on the side of my blouse, towards my tits. Then he stopped and abruptly raised my shirt, revealing the black lacy bra I worn underneath. "Hmmm. Was this bra in the package I gave you?" "No Sir," I replied. "Was there any bra in the package?" he asked. "No Sir," I replied. "Then should you be wearing it?" "No Sir, I'm sorry," I said, my voice cracking slightly. "It's OK. It's your first day." He walked toward the kitchen counter, reached into the drawers below and pulled out a pair of scissors. "You believe you're up to this task, Jenn?" "Yes Sir," I responded, still standing there as he had instructed with my shirt pulled up and my bra exposed. "Good," he said. "Because if that's the case you're not going to need this anymore." He pulled the bra up a bit, slid the scissor blades between it and my skin and cut it off where the cups came together in the middle. My pussy began to get wet as my tits were exposed to him. He then used the scissors to cut off the shoulder straps and pull the remains of the tattered bra off me. Next he pulled up my skirt and discovered a pair of panties that he had not included in the box. He didn't speak, only used the scissors to cut them off as well. He picked up the destroyed bra and panties and threw them away. I stood there, both my skirt and shirt pulled up, exposed and completely under his control. I'm not sure if it was fear or arousal but I dared not move or attempt to halt what had transpired so far. "From now on, I'll be picking out your clothing," he said. "And that means you don't wear anything under your clothes unless told otherwise. Understood?" "Yes Sir," I said. I stared straight ahead as he had asked. His hands rubbed up and down my body, finally reaching my pussy. He rubbed my clit with his index finger, then moved backward and slid it in and out of my sopping pussy for a few seconds. Finally, he grabbed me, slightly rough, by my pubic hair. "We'll also have to get rid of this," he said, before letting go. He paused for a moment. Then walked behind me and pulled something else out of the drawer. "Do you want to continue," he asked. "Yes Sir." "Good," he said. He reached into his pocket and handed me a business card with an address handwritten on it. "Your first initiation task starts with going to this address and knocking on the door." At that moment he stopped talking and used a marker he'd pulled from the drawer to write the words "Stall 3" across my tits. "When the door man ask you for identification, you show him that. He'll take care of the rest." My mouth dropped open. I tried to speak -- so many questions -- but he stopped me short. "No questions Jenn. It's about trust. You can follow instructions or don't." He stared for a second, knowing exactly which I would choose. "Now go. I will be along eventually," he said. * * * * The address he'd given me was in a part of downtown I rarely ventured to, but it was easy enough to find the street. I parked my car in the huge empty lot outside of some run down industrial looking buildings. There was not a person in sight but I could hear music thumping. The address I was looking for hung clearly above a metal door adjacent to the lot. The music got louder as I approached but I wasted no time trying to get in. I rapped on the door for only a second and a viewing window slid open. "Your clearance?" the doorman said. I did as Sir Francis had asked and raised up my shirt, baring my breast and the words he'd had penned on me. I remember thinking it was a big deal at the time but I didn't let it show. Besides, I wanted off this deserted, creepy and dark street. The door swung open and a few large men stood by. Behind them I could see through a doorway, dozens of people, drinking, dancing and conversing. Some wore mask, others did not. Some were fully dressed, others were completely naked. I gasp a bit as I saw two women on the floor together near the bar, a group gathering around to watch them have sex on the floor. "Your first time here?" the doorman asked. I nodded, still in a state of disbelief. He reached for a phone on the wall. "No. 3's replacement is here," he said into it. He pointed me down the hallway that led away from the main dance floor -- "Service entrance," he said, having to shout a bit over the music. "Mel is down the hall, she'll tell you where to go." I walked down the hallway and the music got a bit softer. Mel stood in the front of a dressing room wearing a cupless black corset and matching thong panties. I had only met her once but remembered how nice it was to see a familiar face. She smiled a bit and I could tell she knew what I was going through. "So you accepted," she asked. "Of course," I said. "In here," Mel said, motioning me into the dressing room. "Sir said you still needed some prep before you go in." "Prep for what," I asked. "What am I doing?" "Sir didn't tell you," she asked. She sat for a quiet minute and thought. "If he didn't say, then I'm sure I'm not at liberty to tell you." My heart slipped into my stomach a bit more. I was afraid about what was to happen next but so aroused by the mystery and setting that I couldn't bare the thought of stopping it. Mel closed the door and motioned me to sit on a high seat, with stirrups. "What I can tell you is that Sir wants you shaved beforehand. Take off your clothes, sit." I did as she asked, putting my legs in the stirrups. Mel rubbed her hand threw my pubic hair, past my pussy hole and up my ass crack. I flinched a bit, not used to having any woman touch me in those ways. "It's OK," she said. "Just a lot to clean up down here." She reached for a tray that sat on a nearby table and began gathering her tools: shaving foam, scissors and a straight blade razor. She used the scissors first, cutting back some of the longer hair. Finally she began foaming me and using the straight razor. I was nervous at first but relaxed as we started to talk. I remember telling her how skilled she was. "It's something I've practiced over and over," she said. "Many of the Dominant ladies request me by name when they need shaved or waxed." As she continued we talked more about what was expected of me, how she found the lifestyle, her role in Sir Francis' world. She was about halfway through, moving from my pussy to my ass crack with her blade when the dressing room door abruptly swung open. Mel looked up, then immediately set her blade back down on the tray and bowed her head as two women walked into the room. The younger of the two, probably in her mid-20s, was clad in a two-piece red leather outfit that showed off her abs. She wore high heels and a large black strap-on dildo hung off her waste. She was blonde, with stunningly beautiful green eyes. But -- as I was about to learn -- she had a mean streak that wasn't too be matched. The other woman was older, wearing a somewhat conservative black dress. The lower half of her face was covered by a black veil, similar to what you'd see on a gypsy or belly dancer. There was something immediately familiar about her but I couldn't place it. She stood in the doorway, saying nothing. The younger woman stepped into the room and Mel began kissing her strap on. She reached down and petted her on the head like an animal. I sat frozen, naked with my legs still spread and my pussy covered in shaving cream as the young woman looked me over with a somewhat disgusted look on her face. "Is this heifer ready yet," she asked Mel, staring me straight in the eye. "No ma'am," she replied. She continued to look at me. I still didn't know what to say. "Avert your eyes," she said to me harshly. I did as she told, not wanting to draw anymore of her wrath. "Get her finished up," she said to Mel. "I need her in 10 minutes, otherwise I'm putting you out there and you can explain it to Francis." She walked out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her. We each sat in an awkward silence for a few seconds as Mel picked up her tools and began working again. "And now you've met Kim," she said finally. "She's one of the cruelest Dommes you will come across." "I see," I said softly, still shaking off what had just happened. "Don't let her scare you away from the life," Mel said. "She's harsh but you just have to do as she commands and accept it. Believe it or not she's earned her place serving Mistress Kat. Kim is rare in that she's a Domme to everyone, but a slave to her." "Mistress Kat was the woman with her," I asked. "You catch on quickly" Mel said, confirming my guess. She used her blade to make a few final passes. "Mistress Kat owns the club," she said. "Kim is her steward, does most of the managerial work around here. It's rare that we would even see Mistress Kat down here, she's quite mysterious and usually stays in the VIP area." I took a deep breath as she finished, then wiped the area clean with a towel. Not a single hair remained. She used her index finger to run along my ass crack to check one final time. Next she stood up and used a soapy towel and washed Francis' words off my chest. After a few moments of scrubbing the marker had all but disappeared. "OK," Mel said. "Showtime." * * * * I walked back into the hallway completely naked. Kim was standing just outside of the dressing room, near some stairs that led downward. "This way," Kim said, motioning down the stairs. The music thumped louder as I followed her. When we got to the end of the stairs we entered a huge room with black walls and a ceiling made of thick glass. We were below the club's main floor. Looking up through the glass, I could see people dancing, having sex and having drinks. In the center of the room that Kim and I stood in were three square cages that were suspended a few feet above the floor by huge chains that went up into the main dance floor. A naked man stood in one cage, a naked woman in the other. Both were dripping wet, wore collars and had their arms and legs extended, chained to the sides of their respective cages. The third cage was open and empty. "Here," Kim said, forcing a tiny, one-button remote into my hand. "This is your initiation, so you're allowed to back out if you choose. Hit this button if you want out." "What am I supposed to be doing," I asked. She slapped me hard across the face. "Don't ask questions unless you're given permission," she said. I remained silent, resisting the urge to hit the button already. "Come," she said, leading me toward the open cage. I stepped onto the wet and slippery cage floor and Kim wasted no time chaining my arms and legs to the sides of the cage just like the others. She walked away for a moment and began rooting through a storage chest just outside the cage. I stood there chained, naked with the remote in my hand. I tried to take stock, wondering what would happen next. Every fiber of my being wanted to push the button and go home. But how could I? Despite my situation I was still aroused, still intrigued by what might happen next. I took solace in that thought. The fact that I was still interested may have meant that Francis was right, that I was a natural at this. And I still wanted to please him. "Ah," I heard Kim say. She stepped back into the cage with me and put a collar around my neck. Next I felt her slip a cheap, plastic pig snout over my nose. "That's perfect," she said with an evil smile on her face. She stepped out of the cage and pushed the door closed. "Don't worry," she said. "By the time you figure out the game, your shift will be over." Just then I felt a drop of liquid from the dance floor above hit my cheek. I looked up and noticed that the ceiling of my cage was not glass but a metal grating on which several people were standing. Kim walked away and I saw her pick up a phone in the hallway. A few seconds later, I heard the DJ in the club above me announce over the intercom: "Ladies and Gentlemen, stall three is now occupied and with a brand new sub. Let's make her feel welcome." * * * * As minutes went by I felt more drops of liquid from above hit me -- sloshed drinks, sweat perhaps. For a second I looked up trying to discern what was happening above me. "Oh look at the curious one with the pig nose," I heard a man above me say. A second later I felt a drop of liquid hit my hair and heard the crowd above me laugh. What was wrong with me, I thought. I'm pretty sure a guy just spat on me and I was aroused by it. What was inside me that made me not hit the button and call this off? Did Francis expect me to back out? Was this a test? I looked over at the other caged slaves and wondered how long they had been there to be as wet as they were. Was this their first night as well? What was the game that Kim had mentioned? "30 minutes left folks," the DJ spoke over the intercom: "Which one of our guest needs the most attention." I heard chants from above me but I couldn't make out what was being said. Then all of the sudden the floor above my cage began to clear. I looked up and saw a young woman being led across it, naked on a leash. A crowd began to gather around her as she got down on all fours above me. I looked up, fixated on her naked body. Then, a moment later came a man who started fucking her from behind. I watched for a moment, seeing the ecstasy in her eyes as the man pounded her cunt relentlessly for several minutes. As her body clinched he pulled his cock out of her, shooting his load onto the grated floor and eventually onto my waiting naked body. Before the drips could even cease another man was inside her. And then another. And then another. I lost count after a while but there must have been a dozen men inside her during the next 30 minutes. All of them finished in the same way, sliding their cock out of her and spilling their load onto me. As I stood there the cum from above started to drench me. It dripped off my head onto my face and in my eyes. My hands were tied so I had no way of wiping my brow. What didn't land on my head caught my shoulders and began running down onto my tits and stomach as more and more men ejaculated through the grate and onto me. The top half of my body was beginning to be covered. My arms were angled down slightly, so that what ever landed on them ran towards my hands. The crowd above me cleared and the woman was now kneeling over the grate, letting the cum that went inside her drip out and onto me. After a minute or so she moved off the grate and the crowd began to clear. * * * * "Alright everybody lets see who's had enough," the DJ said over the intercom: With that I felt the cage jerk into motion. The chains that were attached to the top of each cage weren't just for decoration, it turns out. They were for moving the cage from the lower level to the club floor. My cell was in essence an elevator and I -- along with the other two slaves -- was on my way up. The crowds gathered around us as the elevators drifted into the main dance floor. My heart raced when it slowly crept to a stop. At the beginning of the day I wasn't even sure I was going to pursue the lifestyle. And then there I stood, completely naked, covered in cum and wearing a humiliating pig nose in front of hundreds of strangers. Jenn's Journey Ch. 01 "Alright," the DJ said, "let's hear it folks which one of these slaves is the most pathetic." There was an indecipherable roar from the crowd, which seemed in disagreement. Kim walked out from the crowd and stood in front of my cage, then used her arms to showcase me the way Vanna White would on Wheel of Fortune. "Noooo," the crowd roared. She took a few steps over and did the same to the chained up male slave next to me. The crowds' response was a bit harder to gauge that time. Then finally most seemed to agree when Kim motion toward the other female slave, who was in the cage farthest from me. "Yes, Yes, Yes," they seemed to chant together in agreement. I watched as Kim began unchaining her arms and legs. She was dripping wet from head to tow with cum and who knows what else. The woman stepped out of her cell and gave a slight bow as the crowd cheered for her. Then a man, presumably her Master, stepped forward from the crowd and led her away on a leash. Seconds later the cages jerked back into motion and myself and the male slave began to descend back into the room below. The game, I thought. The crowd above spits on us, cums on us and otherwise abuses us. And every so often we're pulled up and they decide which one of us to free based on how disgraceful we look. It made me horny as hell, yet disgusted with myself for how low I would go to please Francis. What makes me want this, I thought to myself. Then, with a sudden slam the elevator jerked to a stop. I was unready for the impact and the remote slipped out of my cum-soaked palm, tumbled out of the cage and onto the floor of the basement below. I would like to think that I would never have hit the button and retreated anyway, but there was no turning away from it now. With one act of clumsiness, my safety net was gone. * * * * The night went by and the abuse continued. I began to wonder how long I had been down there. It seemed like three or four hours yet it was hard to know for sure. My arousal was uncontrollable. I cannot explain when, but at some point every drop that hit me -- no matter what it was or where it fell -- began to feel like ecstasy. It was the first time I had been in a situation where I was that horny for that long but unable to touch myself. We had been pulled up to the club level twice more since my initial trip and I was elated to catch a glimpse of Sir Francis at one point. The first time, the crowd decided to let none of us go. Then the second time the male slave that was beside me was released. Both the cages were occupied by new slaves. Like hours before, a woman on the club floor was fucked above me. I looked up hungrily and kept my mouth open to try and catch cum from the seven or eight men that used her. Yet I looked on in envy as the redheaded female slave beside me received a much wilder orgy above her, featuring dozens of men fucking three women. I missed out a second time when a bus boy from the club decided to empty several discarded drinks onto her instead of me, as well. As the cage began to jerk upward, I crossed my fingers hoping that my dripping wet state would be enough to suffice. It wasn't that I hated being in the cage or wanted out terribly. But after hours of being there my feet were killing me. Plus, I was hoping to be freed eventually to get a chance to see Sir Francis before the night was over. * * * * The three of us stood in front of the crowd, awaiting their verdict. This time instead of walking in front of us, Kim stepped out from a second floor balcony and stood on top of each of our cages as the crowd cheered. "Noooo," the crowd roared as she stood on the cage furthest from me. She took off her shoes and hopped from the furthest cage to the one in the middle, where the redhead was chained. Though she had been there the shortest time of either of us, she had gotten a ton of attention during the last hour or so and was soaking wet. Kim jumped between the roof of my cage and the redhead's trying to gauge the crowd's pleasure. They roared equally loud to let either of us go. The crowd was split on which of us to free. I worried that both of us were about to go back down. Then I heard them suddenly scream and cheer like they haven't before. Kim hopped onto my cage and reached out her hand to help someone on the balcony climb onto my cage with her. I stared upward, trying to discern what was happening above me. It was Mistress Kat climbing onto my cage with Kim. She pulled up her dress and squatted over me as the crowd cheered. Seconds later I felt a warm liquid wash through my hair and drip down onto me. And I knew that with that, I would be free.