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Florida Submission

By: boxwood25



1.

Like most online encounters, it started with flirtation and creative writing, at a basic level. Over the weeks, though, it became something more. I felt like my new online domme, Ms. Sabrina, was one of the few who really knew me and the other hidden side of my mind and my life. We began to talk of real life, my recent divorce, the professional career I spent all my time on, her career as a business owner in Florida, and then her home and her invitation. A simple weekend trip, she said, some sunshine and the ocean, a break from the cold weather, and a new chance to explore these ideas.

It took a while, but the idea grew, and on one very cold and slushy night up north I accepted. As I told her, I was very interested in an ongoing online relationship, or perhaps long term role play scenes. I was a long time submissive with fairly wide experience, and a few limits in real time. I told her I could deal with pain but that was not my main interest; what excited me more were the ideas of humiliation, BDSM, restraint, costumes, service, and hard use. I am not much of a romantic sunset walk on the beach sort of person in this life, and I was not a bratty sub- what was the point of that? I had a few photos, mostly ones I got my ex to take a long time ago, but trading pictures was not my goal here either. I loved the thrill of new ideas, back then, and the extra humiliation of having to admit to a younger domme that under my vanilla exterior is an inner slut.

The next day, my email contained an e-ticket, Jet Blue for next Saturday morning, and an early arrival in Florida. My mind was full of nothing else, as I spent the week catching up on work, planning a sudden short weekend vacation, and trying to imagine what to wear, what to bring, and where this would lead me. I was sitting on the plane, dressed as I thought she might like-a crisp gabardine pencil skirt, a stylish blouse, stockings and heels, a contrasting jacket. It was a special effort, not the usual casual clothes I wore for longer flights. As she instructed, for the first time in my adult life I wore no panties and no bra, which made me feel very exposed and conscious of the feel and weight of my breasts with every move.

2

When the door of the plane opened, I stepped into the steamy humidity of the access bridge with my roller bag, striding quickly through the airport, carrying my new sunglasses. It was new and exciting, and my work week was forgotten. She had said she would arrange a pickup, not to bring much luggage, and just look for my name on a card.

Walking out into late afternoon sunshine, I was finding my sunglasses and blinking. Looking around, at the crowds of meeting families, I saw the sign I was looking for,'Gold2'. The person with sign was a young woman, a lot younger than my 38 years, and pretty too. She was dressed like an employee, wearing a white polo shirt with a small logo, a short navy wrap skirt, sandals, and big sunglasses with her Florida tan.

I handed her my roller bag, as she said "Jennifer, right? Just follow me". She was off through the crowd, headed for the parking, so I had to trot in my tall heels to keep up. Watching her skirt swing, with her strong tan legs exposed, I realized as she turned that she had no bra under her shirt, either. I had dressed for my flight as I had been told, wearing my best skirted suit and an open neck blouse with no bra and no panties.

The car was a dark sedan, not a limo, but with gunmetal gray leather seats, and dark metallic paint, parked in a corner of the garage, with locks that opened with a 'thunk'. I was left waiting a moment, as she put my bag into the trunk. She came around to open a rear door for me, and took my purse, the designer style I had thought would be very impressive. "Jennifer, remove your skirt and give it to me, now. Ms. Sabrina has requested that."

I was surprised and looked up sharply. What was she asking? Here? "Ahh, I'm sorry miss, what did you say?" I replied, talking down to her in my best executive voice. I looked around and saw we were alone here next to the car.

"Jennifer, I am not asking you again. You will be in trouble with Ms. Sabrina if you cannot listen better than this. She has a rule, for new submissives. Remove your skirt now and get your ass in the car, we will be late."

My face went red, but I couldn't see her eyes in the sunglasses. I realized that she already had my purse and my bag, and it was too late to change the planned week ahead of me now. I slowly unzipped my gabardine skirt and slide it down, over my thigh-high dark stockings and tan heels. As she folded it, I was standing next to the car with bare ass, in jacket and heels. I slid in, with the unusual feeling of my bare skin on the leather seat chilled by the air conditioning. She nudged me over to sit at the center of seat, and pointed at me to spread my legs wide. Before she closed the door, she slipped a steel handcuff on my left wrist and locked it to the handle above the door inside the car.

As she slid into the driver's seat, I saw myself in the mirror, my arm lifted up with one breast exposed as the jacket gapped, my bare skin and pussy visible with my legs spread, and my pale skin displayed on the gray leather. She handed me a cool bottle of water, for my free hand, and smiled to see me exposed like that. I realized I had not really objected, and I did not know her name, or what to expect in my five days with Ms Sabrina. The car moved off, going quickly from the shady garage back into the Florida sun.

3.

We drove for half an hour and I had to twist around to check the watch on my handcuffed wrist held high. I kept my legs wide, as instructed, and I saw the driver checking me in the mirror. My exposed thighs and pussy became chilled by the air conditioner she had turned up high, and my nipples were hard, rubbing my blouse with no bra. We drove through nameless Florida suburbs, and then pulled into a small shopping area, driving behind the low buildings in late afternoon sun.

I was surprised when the car stopped there, and the driver came to open my door. "Jennifer, Ms. Sabrina has asked me to get you some things you will need here. All you have to do is obey. If you don't, I will leave you here on the street, just as you are- half naked, no purse or ID, no way to get back home up North. Do as I say."

There did not seem to be a choice at that point, so when she unlocked the handcuff and held it I slid out of the car, my ass sticking to the leather seat. She walked me to a metal door, the rear door of a store, and I was in heels and stockings, bottomless, and with nowhere to go. She knocked, and the door opened; we were in the back room of a hardware store, and the gray haired owner was smiling past me at the driver, as his eyes took in my naked pussy. "Another one, so soon?"

She smiled, said nothing, and pushed me forward to his grimy workbench. He was still smiling, and went off to the shelves, coming back with a roll of flat metal chain, made of gray steel. "Ok, hold still, let's get this right." 

He reached around my body, bringing a loop of chain to rest on my hips, holding it not too tight while he measured off more and cut it with a tool. His fingers were on my skin, as he fastened the end with a rivet tool, which I realized could now only be cut off, not unfastened. I had cold chain lying flat on my skin, resting on my ass and hips, below my belly, with a free length of chain hanging down between my legs. He adjusted the chain, and then reached for a metal tag and a fitting. He shows me the dull brass tag, with a smile and a wave of bad breath: "Five". I realized it was like a pet tag, with an owner's phone number on the back. It hung between my legs, clinking with the chain against my thighs. He adjusted it and slid his hand between my legs, to take a free feel of my pussy.

The young woman driver was watching arms crossed over her chest, checking her watch. She smiled when he took out a camera, 'flash, clickkkkk' to photograph me half naked in the chain belt." You want to see the others?" He laughed as he showed me the camera screen- four other similar shots, blonde and brunette women, all naked from the waist down, standing in this same dusty workshop wearing different Florida vacation outfits, each looking surprised with a chain and a tag. I had gone in an hour from a visiting business professional off to see her new Mistress to just another slut in a slave chain.

The driver led me outside, but instead of opening the car she held my arm and pulled me past two more stores, to knock on another door. The hanging chain brushed my thighs as I walked in my high heels, the metal tag clinking. I was becoming used to the humiliating exposure, when we were let into the second store. We were in the back room of a women's store, with boxes and racks and shelves of cheap clothing and lingerie in too-bright colors, a long way from the higher-end stores I usually visit. The Cuban woman at the door laughed out loud to see me this way.

"Deborah, you got a nice one this time. You have her things?"

The driver handed her my suit skirt, which she had been carrying, then went back for my suitcase. The woman pulled my jacket and blouse off, over the handcuff I was still wearing, leaving me naked in my chain belt. She looked into my eyes, laughed again, and used the tape measure she carried to check my sizes. Pulling the tape around my breasts, waist, and hips, her fingers touched the chain I wore now and she felt the curve of my breast and laughed. She clicked my handcuff to a metal rack, then turned away to open my bag. The driver watched as she held up and looked over the skirt and jacket I had worn, and pulled my newly purchased vacation clothing and fancy lingerie out of the bag- the things I thought would make me attractive to Ms. Sabrina, and the expensive dark red bikini I had expected to wear poolside. The shop owner emptied the bag, tossing the clothes onto a table, and handed a few dollars to the driver.

I realized I was further reduced-naked, chained, cuffed, and now my expensive things had been sold to a second hand store. The woman went off into the store, leaving the driver checking her watch and me cuffed to the rack. When she returned, she handed me a small plastic grocery bag. "Here were the things you will need with Ms. Sabrina-some thongs, some really small bras, a very small bikini, a few thin wrap skirts, a halter dress, and of course your maid's uniform too."

She handed a credit card that I recognized as my gold card back to the driver. "It came to $415.56; I put it on this slut's credit card, thanks Deborah."

I was blinking back tears as the driver led me outside again, naked, except for my high heels, and back to the car, with my new chain clinking. It was still cold in the car, as she pushed me to the center of the seat and cuffed my wrist again. Now I was fully naked, seeing myself in the rear view mirror, fingering the cold chain I could not remove. I wondered again now how different this week with Ms. Sabrina would be.

4. 

The sun was setting as the car finally stopped not a big Florida sunset just low clouds and twilight. I was shivering, naked except for my high heels, and my chain. I looked out, and saw a medium large house, not a mansion, set alone on a street apart from other houses, on the edge of a town. It seemed to be surrounded by undeveloped land, maybe a park or a palm grove. The house was aging white stucco, with heavy walls and arched windows with metal grilles, and a heavy timber door with small window. The lights were on, the windows glowing but curtained. The lawn was bounded by untrimmed tropical plantings, blowing in a light wind.

I saw Deborah, the driver, on her cell phone, but couldn't tell what was happening from her words. She left the car running, as she opened my door and unlocked my cuff, and I slid out the door. She had parked well down the curved drive, and walked me across the wet lawn, with no sign of anyone around. At the front door, she tugged my arm and locked my handcuff again to an iron ring next to the door. Without smiling, she reached out to cup my right breast, feeling its weight, rubbing her thumb over the nipple which had now hardened in the cool dawn air. She flicked it sharply, painfully with her nail, and smiled. "Ms. Sabrina may enjoy you."

She turned and left, getting back into the car and driving away. I was left standing next to the door, as it went darker, naked except for heels and chain belt, handcuffed and totally exposed. She had left the bag of cheap clothing nearby, but out of my reach. I was assuming this was Ms Sabrina's home, and she would open the door, but I realized it could be anywhere, and I had no way of knowing if this was my destination or some humiliating next stage. I wondered if a woman or a man would came to the door, or who might see me here, if they drove up.

It was dusk now and beginning to get a bit chilly. I panicked when a sheriff's car drove by and suddenly stopped in front of the house. I was chained next to the front door, and I tapped it urgently as I watch the sheriff leave his car running and walk toward the front door Before he got to me, the door opened and a tall brunette woman asked "Are you Jennifer?" When I answered "yes", she released me from the cuff with a small key and ordered me to come in. I heard her tell the deputy that she knew who this was, that I belong to her and not to worry about it, thanking him for his service. He said very little and seemed to be unable to take his eyes off of this surprisingly naked woman. She had to assure him that there was no problem before he turned and walked back to his cruiser. Taking my hand, she guided me over to the living room sofa where I sat shaking, still naked, and introduced myself for the first time in person to Ms. Sabrina. 

5.

Sitting on the sofa later, my heart was still pounding, as it had been from the moment the police car spotlight pinned me by the door, nearly naked and cuffed. I was trying to think what to say, how to explain all this, when the door opened and I was pulled into the house. I watched the tall, heavy officer in the Sheriff's car looked me over, his eyes taking in my trimmed pussy and hard nipples, plus the chain and tag I wore with heels. I was very relieved when he went away, he clearly wanted me and his hard eyes made it seem that if he used me it would not be pleasant at all.

I was in shock, seeing Ms. Sabrina for the first time as she pulled me inside. Just as in her online photo, she was slender and beautiful and elegantly sexy. I was sitting on the sofa, humiliated in my nakedness which seemed more out of place in this well-furnished room, sitting across from a woman in expensive and casual clothing, looking me over. With no point in trying to hide anything now, I sat with my legs slightly parted, clearly a slut on display here, and not knowing what might be next.

I looked up, at her offer of a drink. "Ahh, Ms. Sabrina, may I have a glass of wine, white wine please?" 

I heard myself and it seemed ridiculous, to be sitting naked like this having cocktail party chat. I remembered how much I had come down, in the last two hours, from my professional self to being this almost naked woman who was now a voluntary prisoner of sorts, maybe a servant too. I saw the crumpled plastic bag, with my garish new clothing, in a heap by the door. When I looked back I saw her hard eyes and firm looked, and I realize it would be a long week full of surprises- if in fact it ended then. I realized I had no purse, phone, ticket, or way to let anyone know where I was.

A half hour later, I was finishing the bottle of wine she had opened for me. She had been drinking vodka martinis, several of them. I no longer seemed to mind my nakedness, the steady flow of wine having removed most of the inhibitions I might have experienced. She took my hand and led me upstairs to her bedroom, saying "For tonight, it is just you and I. You are to make yourself totally naked and then I want you to remove all of my clothing, very slowly, one piece at a time, and then we will lie in bed together. You had a long day, my slut and you deserve a good night's sleep, but first I want you to pleasure me, to show me the full extent of your sexual experience with a woman." She lay down and rolled over onto her side looking into my eyes as I lay on my back next to her, the side of my warm naked body pressing against her soft, tender skin, waiting for my next move.

Lying naked on the bed, I looked at her lying beside me. The wine made me a bit hazy, but she was so beautiful and I was excited. I began with my hands, lightly touching her skin and stroking around her breasts, finding the hard nipples and lightly stroking and pulling them. My other hand caressed her side, sliding down to her firm thigh, then between her legs to cup her lightly.

I moved to my hands and knees, with my chain and tag hanging down, and brought my mouth to her nipples, licking then sucking them in turn. My tongue lapped her sweet breasts, then traced down her belly. I moved between her legs, on hands and knees, kissing the mound then using my tongue to trace the labia. With my breasts hanging and swaying, my face went to her pussy and my tongue slid in, finding it wet and slick. I was more excited; tongue thrusting and sweeping, finding the ridge of her clit and sucking it. I was breathing harder and faster, licking and lapping her center, tongue stroking her hard clit and swirling in her. I nibbled and sucked on her lips with my tongue in deep. As her hips rocked and her back arched, my tongue worked hard licking and tasting her juices. 

Kneeling, I used my hands to open her wider, tongue going in deep, eating and sucking her pussy. One hand went to work her hard nipples, tugging them as I ate her. I kept licking harder, as I felt her begin to convulse. I kept licking, swallowing the juices and kissing and nibbling. As she shook, I kissed her, and then withdraw, to cuddle naked next to her side. I had forgotten about my chain, and my day of humiliations, in the heat of loving her. I curled next to her on the bed, happy that she was able to release.

6. 

My eyes opened, with the warm sun streaming into her bedroom through the tall windows. I was lying on her bed, on top of the duvet, covered only by an old piece of worn blanket. I had to think about where I was, and why, and remembered the wine, and loving her beautiful body, and then I recalled my humiliations. My hand slid under the blanket, over my skin, sliding up my leg to confirm the cold chain and the pet tag between my legs. It made me gasp suddenly, to understand what I had become so quickly.

I saw the covers thrown back, and her side of the bed empty. Looking around, I saw that she was dressed now in a lacy robe and sitting at the small table with two chairs next to the window, sipping fresh coffee and finishing a breakfast of eggs and fruit and croissants. When I went off the bed, and walked naked to the table, with a nervous smile, she looked at me sternly. Before I could sit at the table, she pointed silently to the floor next to it.

As I came closer, the smell of coffee and food was inviting. She pointed down, and I saw a metal dog bowl on the floor next to her, labeled "slut". My face went red with embarrassment as I knelt by the bowl, which I saw now was empty. She blotted her lips with the linen napkin, and then as I watched she leaned over, the robe gapping to show her full breasts, holding her plate. She tipped the leftovers of her omelets and vegetables into my bowl, then added the scraps of fruit and bread and a splash of her coffee, using a silver spoon to mash the food together.

I looked up to see her waiting expectantly, and with a deep sigh I understood. I blinked back a tear as I knelt and bent my face down to the bowl, to eat with no hands the leftover slop she had offered me. I ate hungrily, rising on my knees with food on my face and chin, dripping onto my naked breasts, as she reached down to lightly ruffle my hair.


Florida Submission



7.

After my feeding, I was standing in the elegant living room, dressed in heels and a trashy lime green transparent thong and bra, looking ridiculous for an older woman, waiting with Ms. Sabrina. When Deborah arrived and ushered in the younger women, they gathered in the front hall and I watched as they removed their casual jeans and shirts to strip down to slave outfits like mine, thongs, chains, and heels. All of them were pretty, with firm young bodies and breasts, much younger than me.

They came into the room, chattering, treating me as just a new doll, not a person or a fellow submissive. They ignored me as they explored me while Ms. Sabrina smiled, their hands on my breasts ripping off the little clothing I wore, going between my legs, probing my mouth and ass, laughing at my older body. One grabbed my hair to pull me with her to the pool room, as the others slapped my ass to make me move faster.

In the sunny indoor pool, they pushed me down to the black and white tiled floor, stretching me out to tie me to the pool deck.

One slipped a chair cushion under me to lift my hips and arch my back, with my legs tied open in a wide V. By the time Ms. Sabrina came back in a golf colored bikini, they had found the tray of snacks and toys and begun to have their fun with me. They laughed as they make me suck a banana, and then thrust it into my vagina. One took a bottle of soda, shook it, sprayed my hair and body with the sticky syrupy drink, and then pushed the bottle between my legs. Another took chips from the tray of snacks and crumbled them over me, dusting me with crumbs which stuck to the spilled soft drink. Frozen shots were upended over my nipples, chilling them painfully, as they used their fingers to spread my lips wide and play with my throbbing clit. As they threatened more torture, they make me give up my passwords for my computer banking and personal accounts, pinching and slapping me.

When I looked to the side, moaning as they brought me close to release and then stopped and laughed, I saw Deborah using a cell phone for photos, and a tall male photographer recording all of this. I realized it was my phone she was using, and that she could easily send these photos to my contact list and Facebook. The used banana was mashed into my hair, fingers explored all my openings, and they played my body like an instrument, teasing me to see my reaction but never letting me go over the edge.

Ms. Sabrina returned, looking sexy and elegant, to sit on the lounge chair and watch all of this torment with a smile. With a snap of her fingers, the girls pulled away, leaving me as a mess tied to the floor, whimpering. "Five, now you need to thank your new sisters for welcoming you as the newest, and lowest, slave in our household. Say something."

"Umm, thhhank you, for making me part of this." My face was red and I was near tears.

"And, Paul, our photographer, is doing such a great job on his photos to post online, so he needs a big lesbian slut welcome, too. Paul, this new one is yours if you want a break."

The tall man smiled, puts down his cameras, and came over, looking down at me naked and tied and degraded. His smile widened, and he said nothing as he unzipped He knelt to straddle my head, to feed himself into my mouth, holding my nose to force me to open wider. He filled me and I gagged, as he pumped it deeper, and then moved to kneel between my legs. When he thrust into me, I jerked against the ropes and moaned, as he stretched me and hit me deeply. He ignore my eyes, just pumping until I felt him swell and tense, then slid out and sprayed over my face and breasts and fed it to me again to lick clean.

Deborah laughed again and I saw she had made a video of this on my phone. He laughs as he handed Ms. Sabrina a small bill. "Ah, slut, see, your first conquest. Excellent!"

Ms. Sabrina and her women wandered out, and Deborah was left to untie me and pull me to the shower near the pool, watching with her arms crossed as I cleaned myself up. "As the new slut, you are also the maid, so here is what you will wear; you can start by cleaning the pool area. The cleaning things and mops are in here, and then you need to make lunch for everyone. Hurry, Five."

The clothes she handed me were a cheap pink thong, very high plastic heels, and a tan wrap dress like a hotel maid's, but cut so short it barely covered my ass, and with all but two of the front buttons cut off. I was obviously now a badly dressed servant, but also naked and available under the dress. My chain and tag hang below the dress, clinking against my thighs. After she left, I worked slowly with mop and bucket, cleaning up after my own initiation, and wondering what would be next for me. I was crying as I saw how different this was from the romantic introduction to submission Ms. Sabrina had promised me in our month of online chats.

When I got back to the upstairs rooms, Deborah led me to the kitchen to prepare a lunch. As I worked at the counter, two of the other younger women walked in, also dressed in thongs and chains and heels, and smiled to each other without a word to me as they reached into my dress to fondle me, fingered me, tugged my hardening nipples, then pulling back with a laugh and dumping drinks on the floor which I needed to stop and clean up as they watched me work on my knees.

As I delivered a tray of sandwiches to the room where Ms. Sabrina and the women were gathered, she called me over to see that they were doing online shopping for sex toys and costumes, and held up the credit card they were using-mine, I saw. Ms. Sabrina looked up with a smile. "Five, I closed out your bank accounts and canceled your lease up North, and I was just changing your Facebook profile now so your friends will see your new status. I added you to my web site too, with your picture and list of services and prices. I think we can keep you busy as our new online slut." I looked at the screen and saw with shock that my familiar Facebook profile now had a new picture, taken against the tile floor, showing my face and my naked shoulders and bare skin down to my chest, clearly naked. My relationship status was now "owned by Ms. Sabrina." It was set to 'Public'. The web site offered extreme bondage and humiliation with video chat, with the same photo but cropped lower to show my exposed breasts, with my real name below the photo: Jennifer.

8.

After serving lunch to everyone else, I was told by Ms. Sabrina to stand and wait, and my empty plate was filled with scraps from the others' plates, which they laughed as I ate slowly. As the young women sat around the outdoor patio in the Florida sun, Ms. Sabrina reached for the fruit bowl I had prepared.

"Slut 5, you need to develop some skills which will be useful in your new online entertainment job. Before we begin, put on a little show for us, present the new you. Take off the dress, keep the thong and heels, and work it. Dance for us, show all of us your gratitude for giving you this new life." She switched on a radio for thumping Latin music and passed the fruit bowl around to the women.

With only a short pause and a silent sigh, I slipped off the short uniform dress and try to catch the beat. I was dancing topless, wearing only the thong and heels, rocking my hips, arching my back, thrusting my breasts as I danced lewdly for the first time for this circle of women. I saw Paul the photographer catching this and smiling, and I shook and presented my body as the younger women yelled commands to "work it harder, slut!" As the song wound down, Ms. Sabrina pointed to a spot at her feet.

"Five, you are going to need some excellent licking skills, since I will loan you to my friends, so like everything you need to practice with that tongue. Each of the women has slipped some grapes into her pussy, from 1 to 3 of them, so you need to lick each of them, remove all the grapes, and of course swallow them. If you miss one, you will be punished, and you need to work fast. Go."

The first young woman stepped close to where I knelt, grabbed my hair, and pulled my mouth between her legs. My tongue went in deep, swirling and sweeping her, finding the grape and teasing it out, gulping it and tasting her musky flavor and searching for more. Each of them took her turn, keeping me licking, until my tongue was exhausted, my face was covered in their juices, and I had learned to associate sweet grapes and the taste of women.

9. 

I realized more about my new place in life when Ms. Sabrina had me cleaned and groomed, like an animal. The other women ignored me as a person as they worked to strip and shower me, roughly scrubbing even my most tender skin, then washed my mouth with vinegar, to put me in my place. Their hands and fingers soaped everywhere, in the places which I used to think of as private, between my legs, in my rear. One held me still while another shaved me, everywhere. When they were done, they brushed my hair and had me slip on very high heels, then lead me naked, with my chain and tag clinking, to Ms. Sabrina's room.

I saw her, elegant, beautiful and slim, in her open gauze robe, naked under it, a hint of a sparkle in her eyes as they led me to her bed. The women cuffed my wrists with leather straps, and clipped them together behind my back, pushing me to kneel before her and crawl to her. My face was between her, and I was allowed to gently kiss her there, before they roughly pulled me up to the bed and positioned me on my knees, face down to the bed, with my hands behind me. One pulled my hair to lift my face, and I see Ms. Sabrina has strapped on her femme cock and it was at my lips. The others laughed as they lift my head, arching my back, to feed me the dildo. I licked and slurped it, trying to make it wet and to take it deep, honoring the tool which I saw would be used on me.

They pushed my face back to the bed, spread my knees wide, and I felt hands slather cold lube gel over me front and back. The women held me as Ms. Sabrina entered me with the femme cock, in my vagina from behind, then left the room.

With my ass up, legs wide, I rode the dildo as Ms. Sabrina worked it into me, feeling it rubbing my hard clit and filling me deeply. Her finger found my ass and probed, as she used me hard. I realized now what I had become, wanting now to be able to give myself to her, and to please her.

10. 

As Ms. Sabrina used her femme cock to take me from behind, I felt her insert a thinner dildo into my ass, staking her future claim, as she leaned forward to roughly grab my breast as a handhold. She squeezed it hard as she pumped in me and plunged deep. My body was shaking, I was gasping and just on the edge of release, when she suddenly pulled out and stepped back, removing both rods. I was suddenly empty and left short, grabbing the bed and whimpering, shaking waving my body, wanting her so.

"Not going to happen, Five, get off my bed. You were mine, any way I wanted you, but you need to see that only I decide if you ever get that release again." As I backed off the bed, she pulled my hair to lead me to the hall, naked and dripping. She smiled as the other waiting women laughed and took my hands, pulling me to an empty room down the hall with only a mattress on the floor. They locked my waist chain to a dog run cable bolted to the door frame, so that I could only move around the small room. There was a bucket of water and a sponge in the corner, an empty bucket, a rough towel, and dog dishes of water and some sort of food on the floor.

The four of them pushed me down, and the next hour was a confusion of bodies as they used vibrators on me to bring me up, but never over the edge, and to squat over my face and make me lick them. At the end, still frustrated, I felt four sets of hands as they slid over my entire body, slowly touching every inch of my skin, pulling my nipples, parting my lips, opening my mouth, touching every place between my fingers and toes, letting me know that now all of me belonged to Ms. Sabrina and her women, and that I had lost all control. They left me for the night, to clean up and think. With my hands still cuffed behind me, I could not touch myself to get any relief. In only a day, they had reduced me to a body with intense sexual feelings and nothing more; my old life was gone now.

11.

In the morning, it was Deborah who woke me in my new cell. She had brought two of the younger women back from their house nearby, and they are already in the kitchen in outfits like my own, the short open maid dresses with heels and thongs. I saw from their tags on their waist chains that they were # 2 and 4, a young brunette and a blonde, younger than I was. A cook had the stove going and had started on making breakfast for Ms. Sabrina, it seemed. Deborah was dressed as she had been on Saturday, at the airport, and I was surprised to realize that with all that had changed for me it is only Monday morning now.

Deborah had led me naked into the kitchen, and gave me a sharp slap on my rump as she tossed my clothing toward me. "We don't use names here; you can call these other subs Two and Four. Get dressed; your job today can be garbage and cleaning, after you set the dishes for the breakfast tray." As I tried to button the dress, Deb pushed the three of us into a line, and reached into each dress in turn to cup and fondle a sub's breast, using our breasts roughly while we stood still to allow her free access. She started to leave the kitchen, then smiled with a glint in her eye and pulled me out of the line again, tugging the top of my dress off over my bare shoulders to expose my breasts. 

She reached for the dish of fresh strawberry jam on the tray, dipped in her fingers and coated my nipples with the sticky mixture, as she laughed. She bent to use her lips and teeth on each of my nipples. "Subs, Five here tastes like strawberries- try her." The others tried to catch my eyes, sympathetic now, but each of them came over, bent down, and sucked hard on my now sticky nipples as Deborah used my own cell phone to take clear pictures.

Deborah laughed and went out, and we were left to our chores, rushing now not to be late and not talking. I set to work, cleaning the kitchen and taking garbage outside as the others went off to serve breakfast to Ms. Sabrina upstairs. That morning, like the first of many, was spent cleaning the house, working with the other subs to dust, arrange, make beds, and clean the many bathrooms; we were not allowed to talk while we worked. I could hear the soft clink of our chains and our tags as we moved around, all dressed in our similar uniforms.

At midday, our supervisor Deborah called us to the kitchen, where I discovered that even a meal was a training exercise in submission. The two other subs and I are told to remove the short dresses, wearing only thongs and heels then draw lots. When Four was selected, Deborah fed her a few spoonful's of some pasty food from a large bowl the cook has prepared, and then had her face us. Our food was spooned onto her chest and Two and I paused, and then had to lick it off her skin to feed ourselves. Deborah served more, and we were sucking and nursing the sub's two breasts side by side, as she could only hold still and offer her coated nipples to us. I had gone from my old vanilla professional life and little experience with other women, to needing to suck and lick breasts for my daily food, or to offer my own body that way.

12. 

That afternoon, the five of us were dressed in our cheap halter top dresses in bright tropical colors, heels and thongs, and kept on hand to welcome and serve Ms. Sabrina's guests. Women arrived in groups, sometimes with a few men along, and we were sent around serving drinks and arranging things. This first day, I was surprised when Ms. Sabrina took my hand, as I passed by carrying drinks in both hands, and as she talked with her friends and they looked at me she casually slid her hand into my dress, to cup my breast, and then into my thong, exploring me as I tried not to spill the drinks. Her point was clear- that as a sub I no longer had any personal space, or expectation of privacy. 

She gave me a light spank to send me on my way, and then turned to the others. "Two and Three put down your trays. I think you would look better if you exchanged dresses. Do that now." With red faces, the two younger women stopped, put down their trays of drinks, and as the guests watch smiling each slipped off her dress, to stand naked except for her thong and heels, and the chain and tag around her waist and between her legs, then tugged on the other's dress. As the guests came to understand our submissive roles, and our total lack of control over our own bodies, each movement around the room was interrupted by guests with their hands on us, under our dresses, cupping and feeling and wanting more. When I served drinks to two women, I was bent forward over a chair, as one had her hand between my legs and the other untied the halter to release my breasts. Lips and fingers took my nipples, while another hand opened me and explored my wetness. They kept at it as I stiffened and gasped, then stopped short and laughed. The taller woman took my dress, tore it apart, and tossed it into a corner, and sent me away with a slap on my ass, wearing only the thong and heels and my chain. I began to realize that being naked among normally clothed women was my new place in life, always clearly a slut on display- in my case a slut older than most of the guests, with a less than perfect body and an obvious need to serve and submit.

13

Ms. Sabrina leaned closer to one of the guests, to hear her whispered suggestion and they both laughed. She took my hand, and gathered the other four subs, to lead us outside onto the lawn. I was the only one mostly naked. She pushed me, tugging my thong off, and urging me down, and I lay on my back in the cool grass, Another sub, Four, was brought to kneel over my face, with her mound at my lips, along with her dangling chain and tag, and I saw that we were being placed in a circle on the grass. Each of us had another's tongue at her pussy, and a pussy at her mouth. "The guests suggested a bet, so the loser is the sub who can't last. Each of you needs to try to make that be someone else. Ready, go!" 

I felt someone's tongue roughly lapping and swirling in my pussy, and I knew I had to do the same; licking furiously at Four's wet pussy that was over my face. Five women, bare skin contrasted against the green lawn, all licking as fast and hard as possible without even being able to see who their partners were, as the guests cheered on their favorites. The woman licking me suddenly shuddered, unable to contain herself, and moaned as she came. Ms. Sabrina pulled her up, and we saw that it was the young brunette woman, Two.

The rest of us gathered at one side of the lawn, ignored now, as the guests passed Two from one to the other, roughly touching and spanking her, feeling the wetness between her legs then wiping their fingers in her hair. Deborah gathered us as the guests filtered out, telling Ms. Sabrina that each of her parties was better than the last.

14

The evening feeding took on a regular form, with me and the four others pushed into a small room by the kitchen and the cook bringing only four meager servings, so that we had to beg or push each other to get food as Deborah watched us, finding every chance to reduce us to some lower level. Deborah made her own rules here; none of us was allowed to shower alone, or to wash ourselves; we had to beg another to do it, and stand humiliated as they bathed us like an animal and we cleaned them. I became used to another woman's hands washing me, over all parts of my body, and in my hair, and I came to know each of their bodies in the same way. After a day at Ms. Sabrina's elegant house with her guests, each evening Deborah allowed us to dress in ordinary casual clothing and she drove us back to the house where we were kept.




Florida Submission



The plain looking house was not far away from Ms. Sabrina's faded mansion, set off by itself at the end of a deserted street looking onto a canal, sometimes with a lazy alligator sunning itself on the bank. This seemed to be a failed Florida development, with no other occupied houses nearby. Inside the house, the doors had been removed from all the rooms except Deborah's quarters, and the windows had plastic security glazing inside. Deborah had her own suite, with nice furnishings, TV and internet, and her own bath and closets. The rest of us shared two sleeping rooms and a lounge with battered folding lawn chairs and a bath, plus what I learned was the studio.

Deborah locked the house door behind us, and then took me to the room in the back. "Five, this is the studio, where you will do your internet job for Ms. Sabrina."

I had been surprised at every turn for the last two days, but this was something new. "What do you mean, job? And, Deborah, I need to plan to get back to my real job, I am supposed to fly back tomorrow, when will you take me to the airport?"

She was annoyed, but firm. "Five, you are not paying attention. You left that life behind, and now it's gone. You gave us your passwords the first day, and we have your purse and your documents. Ms. Sabrina closed your bank accounts, paid off your bills from your savings, canceled your lease, and requested a leave of absence from your job. She took a charity deduction for your car, and all your fancy clothing went to a second hand shop. And remember, your card paid for the new clothing we got you the first night."

"Your body belongs to Ms. Sabrina now, and she has to feed and house you, so it's only fair you need to do some work, for this tropical vacation you dreamed of. That's why the photos of you were posted on the Internet." She was laughing out loud as she finished her speech.

She led me into the room furnished with a bed with shiny black satin sheets, a computer with a large flat panel screen, and some low cushions and an ottoman. I saw a large professional webcam mounted on the wall, facing the bed, and the hanging microphone. I was stunned, even before she flicked on the web site home screen: "Sabrina's Sluts/ One on One Chat and Use". The lurid screen featured a dungeon setting, with palm trees outside it, and head shots of each of the five submissives here. My own had my real name, Jennifer, and my real previous home town. Anyone who knew me would see it was clearly me. The photo showed me topless and smiling, apparently ready for anything.

"So, Five, every night you need to do two hours here, just take the calls and do whatever the customers ask for. The $5 per minute they pay goes into your sales account, and of course for that price they can make recordings to circulate forever on the Internet. Start out in your halter dress and heels; it gives them something to look forward to." She tapped a key, and the view changed, to a video shot of the bed here and a blank customer screen. "Here, take your first call."

The computer chimed, and I found the key to press; the customer screen showed three young men, with drinks in hand. "Hey, babe, are you Jennifer? What will you do slut?"

I looked over at Deb, and pressed the key. "You can call me Five; I will do what you want. Tell me what you guys want." I tried to force a smile, watching the counter ringing up their charges.

"You know, show us the tits, slut! Show us everything, and how much you want us." They were at the point of being drunk enough that everything they said seemed hilarious to them. I was on the bed shrugging off my dress, posing, finding new ways to spread myself and touch my body as they hooted and yelled commands, and I kept my gaze on the clock and the counter. The hours went by with more of the same, a continuing series of simulated sex acts and exposure and humiliation, all recorded and broadcast. When Deborah came back at the end of my time, I had 102 minutes and $510 on the clock. Four was waiting in the hall for her turn.

"Every day, Five, sometime, you need to do your two hours. Work it out with the others. Customers pay triple for two girls at once, but for that you need to beg one of the others to work with you."

I was naked now, with my dress and shoes in my hand, as she walked me to the sleeping room. It was very plain, with small dormitory beds and rough sheets. The bathroom was visible, through the open doorway. 

"Welcome Home, Five. Have a nice life now."

15

The days fell into a pattern, as my old life became a distant thing. The work was never physically hard, but the training and humiliation were constants. Each of us as submissives offered herself for it, but each woman responded in different ways. Deborah's role seemed to be observing us and keeping us on edge, as Ms. Sabrina used us in different ways. Some of the women seemed to seek the thrill of pain and punishment, and were brought to their own edge with nipple clamps and floggings; some sought out bondage and were often cuffed or restrained as they were used. My own training focused on the humiliation which repelled and excited, me, making clear how I had been brought lower from my educated, professional, cool non-sexual world.

Ms. Sabrina had listened carefully during my online chats, and she understood that it was the humiliation that excited my deepest feelings and had brought me here. I was kept as the lowest-ranking of the group, given the last of everything and the most dismal tasks, while only rarely being allowed any sexual satisfaction, which kept me on edge and attentive most of the time. When I was not being used by Ms. Sabrina, she found it amusing to make me beg to be used by one of the others, displaying myself in the neediest ways and being forced to ask for my own hard use.

With my daily internet sessions, my maid service, and my display to guests, I became used to having no privacy and to internalize my shame at the way I was forced to admit to my sexual nature. Ms. Sabrina had Deborah organize a new room for me on the website, as an "online therapist for sexual addiction". Customers logged in to find me sitting on a hard chair, wearing prim vanilla clothing, in front of the bed with the satin sheets. "I am Jennifer, and I am a sex addict." I could see the callers laughing on their screen, as they asked me to beg them for attention, and for their humiliation of m and to do as they told me. And I did.

Deborah had put a menu of choices to the web site, with a new item added every time she discovered something that brought new humiliation and arousal for me. Everything I did online was now kept as an archive video, available to subscribers for replay and copying. The days with Ms. Sabrina and her women had become weeks, and my old life was left behind. When Deborah woke me the next morning, she was smiling and had found some new idea.

"Five, no housework for you today, Ms. Sabrina has found a new place for you that seems to fit what you need. We got a package for you, some new things to wear, for a start." Like the other four women, I was wearing only some casual shorts, a loose knit top, and of course my ever present waist chain and tag. She handed me a large carton, with FedEx tape and labels, and the others watched as I opened it. Inside, I found beautiful professional clothes, my own clothes in fact, from my old life. Expensive soft tweed jackets, pencil skirts, silk blouses, stockings, and the ridiculously expensive shoes I had collected, in soft colored leather with very high heels. The lingerie in the box was mine too, lacy and minimal French and Japanese pieces from the best stores, with my pearls and gold jewelry. Sweaters, expensive casual wear, some formal dresses, and almost everything had some designer label.

"We had someone clean out your closets, Five, when we canceled your apartment lease, and we were thinking that even in this new sort of life you can get some use out of these things. You can put them in the extra closet in my room; I will get them when you need them. Ms. Sabrina wants to take you out today, as a trial. Go get dressed, as if you are still the bank vice president you used to be."

I ignored the looks from the others as I dragged the carton into Deborah's room and picked out an outfit. When I came out, Deborah smiled and the other women looked unhappy. I had found one of my old favorite outfits, a very fine cashmere tweed slim skirt, paired with a heavy silk blouse that draped over the curves of my lacy half cup bra, with sheer stockings and the light colored heels that made me look taller. The cultured pearl necklace and the gold wrist piece completed the look; all that was missing was my expensive Swiss watch and my phone. It felt good, to once again wear lipstick and makeup

Deborah took me outside into the sun, and handed me my big sunglasses. Ms. Sabrina was waiting, in the dark colored car I had arrived in. Deborah held the door open as I slid into the front seat next to Ms. Sabrina.

"You are looking very beautiful Five, almost like the old you that I used to chat with. But let's not get ahead of ourselves here. Show me your tag, Five." Behind the sunglasses, my face flushed. I slid down in the leather seat, until I was able to hike the slim skirt up my thighs. As I slid it higher, and spread my thighs to show more of my fine stockings, I reached between my legs to hold up the gray metal chain I still wore, and the dull brass tag that hung between my legs, with its stamped number 5.

"That's better, keep your skirt up like that until we get there, and remember how I own you now. Open your mouth, too, just as a reminder that you are always available now." I sat like that, lips open, thighs apart, as the car picked up speed. We seemed to be going to some wealthier town nearby, as the houses got larger and the Florida landscape became greener and more lushly tropical. When we pulled into a drive, it seemed to be a small private club, with more white stucco arches and a red tile roof. Ms. Sabrina pulled up under a canopy, and a young parking valet came to her and handed her a ticket as he opened her door. I pushed my skirt down and opened my door to slide out of the car, pressing my lips together again and brushing back my hair. Ms. Sabrina took my arm as we walked into the cool dark entry, and when I saw our reflection in the glass we both looked elegant and wealthy; she was dressed in an expensive casual blouse and skirt, with gilded leather sandals and I looked like her older sister, the banker.

Inside the club, we turned left down the hall and pushed open a heavy wood door with Spanish hardware, past a sign: 'Room 2, Everwell Party'. There was a small group of women standing by the French doors to the patio, with a white-jacketed waitress serving tropical drinks from a silver tray. The women were all about early 30's, younger than I was, and all had the natural Florida look of big hair and light makeup over their balanced tans, all dressed in some variant of expensive casual wear.

Ms. Sabrina seemed to know everyone, and she drifted into the group smiling and chatting easily, keeping her hand on my arm. I was more formally dressed, as if I had come from my downtown investment office. I felt Ms. Sabrina's nails tighten on my arm, and I smiled harder and listened, nodding my head and trying to blend in. I faded back into attention when I heard my name."...my newest staff member, this is Jennifer Fivre, yes, pronounced 'Five', I was able to recruit her from up north and she is helping to get our new web hosting business off the ground now." I looked up quickly, to focus on the smiling blonde with what seemed to be very real, very heavy gold jewelry and wide eyes that Ms. Sabrina was chatting with.

She didn't introduce her friend, and I wasn't sure what to say, but I made a smile and tried a "Hello, nice to meet you." The woman didn't respond, but her eyes flicked over me as she turned back to Ms. Sabrina. Her smile broadened, and she did the eyes wide, fake smile move again. "Sabrina, do you still have those Saturday entertainments at your place? I remember Jack and I used to go once in a while, and you always found the most amazing- staff members. I always wondered how you did that." I felt the blush creep up my neck and my ears were suddenly hot.

Ms. Sabrina smiled, but kept her grip on my arm. "Yes, Charlene, I still have my special weekends sometimes. If you find the right people, they are happy to be part of it; the challenge like giving any party is the balance of elements, and finding that edge between boring and inspiring. Once you find the key, you can release some interesting ideas." She moved her hand from my elbow to reach up and cup my breast in my jacket, taking a good feel of its shape and fullness. Her eyes locked on mine, as I looked back and did nothing. Charlene was sipping her umbrella drink and watching closely.

She reached up to open my jacket, and slide it back off my arms to hold it. "Ms. Fivre here is turning out to be a special find. Everyone has something they want, or need, and what she needs seems to be this. Take off your blouse, Five." Charlene looked at her, then back at me, with her head tilted a bit to the side, wondering what I would do.

With my face flushed, I worked the silk covered buttons on my creamy silk blouse, from top to bottom, and pulled it out of my skirt. With my eyes on Ms. Sabrina, I slipped off the blouse and handed it to her. I was the only one in the small group to be undressed at all, standing in my skirt and heels and lacey half-cup French bra, the one I had imagined saving for a new lover. I felt my nipples harden, and I tried to suck in my tummy and stand taller. A shorter waitress came by, offering more drinks, and her eyes washed over me as she decided to ignore the situation and move on. Ms. Sabrina smiled at Charlene and at me, as two of the other women drifted over. She was holding my blouse, finding the Chanel label, and realizing it had cost me almost a week's salary, back in my other life.

The two younger women moved closer, to stand with Charlene, still holding their drinks but laughing quietly to see me like this. Ms. Sabrina leaned closer to me, speaking quietly. "Now the bra, Five, and give it to Charlene. You won't need it again here." 

I reached down, to open the front clasp bra, more humiliated to be undressing myself in public than to have things taken from me. My older breasts sagged a little as I lifted the lace cups away and shrugged off the bra, and I felt my arousal as usual. One of the laughing women opened her small purse and leaned closer, holding the lipstick she carried. "Very pretty, but I think she needs more color, Sabrina." She reached out to run the wine-colored lipstick over the lip liner I had worked hard on earlier, and then colored burgundy circles around both of my nipples, in a clownish way. Charlene chuckled, and Ms. Sabrina joined in.

One of the women noticed part of my gray metal waist chain, riding above my skirt at one hip, and looked at Ms. Sabrina. "Skirt too, Five; you look awkward half dressed like that." I unzipped the soft tweed skirt and slid it down over my hips, to step out of it. I folded it and handed it to Ms. Sabrina, who noted the Saks label and smiled. I was standing now in a circle of women, all younger and prettier, wearing only heels, stockings and panties. The flat metal chain lay over my hips and curved under my older belly, with the tailing chain passing through my panties to hang between my things. The curious woman reached down, pushing my legs wider, to read the tag and laugh out loud. 'If lost return to Ms. Sabrina', and a phone number. Perfect." Just as I did online now, I kept my hands down and let them look and touch as they liked, which was all I deserved.

"Five here is very seldom allowed any release, I discourage self-pleasure by my staff, but perhaps today might be her lucky day. If 

she begs all of you to agree, of course. Panties off now, Five, show the ladies how you are feeling." As I pushed the lace bikini panties lower, the chain slid free to clink between my legs. They laughed as I asked, and as they made me describe just how I was feeling and how much I needed this. I kept begging, since I was seldom allowed to speak now, as they led me outside to the sunny terrace, to sit on the wide railing, with my legs spread wide and braced on two chairs. Several more women joined the group, as I was allowed to finger myself, to show my wetness, and to tug at my own nipples now coated with the wine lipstick. As I begged and displayed myself and touched my wet flesh I saw Ms. Sabrina off to the side, in discussion with one of the waitresses. When I came, it was a heart-pounding, body-tensing event that shook me, and they laughed more at the way I clearly needed it.

As the women drifted away, bored with this adventure now, Ms. Sabrina returned. "Here, clean yourself up, then you can thank the ladies and we will go." I began to wipe up my juices with the cloth she handed me and realized they were the rags of my designer clothes, which she had sliced up with a knife from the kitchen. Nothing was left; she walked me through the room and back outside to the valet parking attendant naked, wearing only my scratched heels and damaged stockings now. 

16. 

Ms. Sabrina loved the feedback she got from her group of friends, so along with the web sites my new role became the outcall erotic toy, the elegant older woman available for humiliation and amusement. Each time, she had me dress in my reduced older wardrobe, and go with her in the car, to make an elegant entrance. Sometimes it was to another club, sometimes to a large home, a high up apartment.

This time, I was surprised when the car brought us to a dock at a marina. We had been brought to a very large power boat, one which you had to call a yacht, where a caterer was unloading party supplies. I tugged down my skirt as I slid out of the car, wearing a sleeveless linen sheath with gold jewelry and tall wedge heels; I saw now why I had not been given the usual stilettos, these were boat shoes. Ms. Sabrina took my arm and walked me up the gangway, to look for her contact person.

"I have to go find Andre, the organizer of this party, so Five- stay right here. Put your hand on the rail and don't leave this spot." She moved me to the cabin wall facing out onto the deck, where a teak rail ran along the passage. "Stay." As she turned away, the men busy loading the bar supplies and wine moved past us, and I saw them whispering.

I was standing, waiting, as I did so often now, with a hand on the rail and looking out at the water and the fleet of costly boats. Two of the caterers came back, headed to the dock for another load, but stopped in front of me. "I've heard of you, the one they call Five. My girlfriend is a waitress at the club." He had a grin, and his companion was smiling. I had nothing to say, and kept silent as he reached out to touch my arm. The two of them shifted, to put me out of view from the dock, and his hand slid over to cup my breast in the slender linen dress. I kept my hand on the rail, looking down, as he used both hands to fondle my breasts and roll my hardening nipples. The other man cupped my ass, and slid his hands over my thighs as I said nothing. His hand moving over my thin dress stopped, when he felt the chain I wore under it.

"So it's true, what Laura said; you are a slave of some sort?" He reached down to lift my dress, sliding it up my thighs to my hips, where they could both see I wore no panties, and the chain with its brass pet tag swinging between my legs. His hand went higher, to find me wet, and he fingered me roughly. My face was red, but I moved my legs wider apart and said nothing, with my hands at my sides. I was no longer the cool professional woman; I had been re-trained by Ms. Sabrina. I held the rail, and for a few moments they both fondled me and laughed, before they went on with their work. They left me with my dress wrinkled and halfway up my thighs, and I was blinking back silent tears when Ms. Sabrina returned.




Florida Submission



She looked at me, then simply smoothed down my dress from top to bottom and brushed the tear from my eye. "You should have invited whoever this was to visit your website, Slut, you could have added to your quota. Think about that next time."

The party began with a harbor cruise, a cocktail hour where she led me from group to group as they chatted, all elegantly dressed men and women on some sort of museum donor charity event. I sipped a club soda and lime, as Ms. Sabrina introduced me as her newest staff member and got knowing smiles in return.

We were on the edge of group, with more of the same chat, when she turned to me. "Five, the staff needs more help with the service now, give me your dress and get to work." She did not explain more, but stood waiting with a firm look. Conversation around us wound down, with the guests looking at me curious about what this meant. I knew my role, and put down my drink on the table near us. Reaching behind my neck, I pulled the back zipper down and slid the dress to pool at my feet; I was left wearing nothing but my chain belt and the shoes. The unstoppable blush went up my neck and my nipples hardened, and I felt the wetness between my legs. "Wait Five, one more thing." She stepped behind me, and reached into her pocket for a marker. I felt the marker pen across my shoulders on my back, and I realized she was writing out the names of my two paid websites, for the guests to read and hopefully call later. "Now, go get a tray and help with the snacks".

I knew everyone was watching as I crossed to the bar, where the woman bartender handed me a silver tray but took my wrist to stop me from moving away. She splashed some white wine over my breasts, and as it dripped away she dusted my nipples, one with salt and one with sugar. "Hon, as you serve the cocktails, bow a little and ask the guests if they want salt or sugar with the drink, you'll need to explain which tit is which flavor." She and the other servers were laughing as they loaded my tray with drinks, and she slapped my ass as I headed into the crowd.

17.

My new life took a sudden turn a week later, when Ms. Sabrina announced I was going back to work outside. She had found me a job in a bank, like the one I had in my old life up North, and took me shopping for a new wardrobe with everything from designer suits and dresses to expensive LaPerla lingerie. I still lived in the second house, where the others washed and groomed me, but every morning Deb took me to the main house to dress for work in my new clothes, and dropped me at the bank.

I worked a few weeks, and got into this new rhythm of having a professional life again, which I was good at. The contrast was never far from my mind, since I wore my chain belt and tags under my new professional clothes. I looked up one morning at a knock on my office door, and my assistant Kristin walked in. She was young and slim and brunette, and had no idea of my life outside the bank. She was smiling. "These came for you." She handed me a small arrangement of pink orchids in a glass square vase, with a Good Luck! tag and a card with 'Ms. Sabrina' in calligraphy on one corner. She was waiting and smiling, as I flushed and opened the card.

"Keep smiling, slut five, at that young assistant with the nice tits. Now that you are working at the Bank, you will still have special assignments sometimes, which I expect you to do without fail All the photos from your web call site are still archived, they can go out to the whole world anytime, starting with my friend CEO Robert there at the Bank. I have some important real estate deals in progress in town, and your role is simple. When Master Jeff shows up for his appointment with you tomorrow, you will do ANYTHING he asks with no question and no mention of me. Is that clear? Sabrina."

My face was red, as I folded the note. "Kristin, do you have my calendar for tomorrow? I need to plan some meetings outside too."

"I was just going to drop off this agenda; tomorrow looks pretty busy, you have the staff meeting at 8:30, then the bank auditor, Jeffrey Rivers, is here for you at 10, then you have an 11:30 lunch with the guy from Realty Investors, Jeff Soprano, and at 3 you have a new business meeting with Jefferson Monroe, the CEO of Masters Intimates, the clothing makers out on Route A2A. And a dinner at the country club, some kind of fundraiser I think for Congressman Jeffers."

I looked at Kristin, to see if her face showed any hint of planning by Ms Sabrina here, but she was simply waiting for my reply, so I took the paper and waved her away. Somewhere I was sure Ms. Sabrina had a hand in this continuing humiliation.

The next morning, when Deb took me to the main house to get dressed for work, I saw that Ms. Sabrina had laid out my choice for the day, with a note: "Dress up for your important meeting!" I had been groomed and showered by the others already, so I slipped off the t shirt and shorts I was wearing. I put on what she had left for me, in the order I had been taught: sitting naked while I rolled the stockings on, and then the heels, and a glittery silver thong. There was no bra today, just a bronze silk blouse with only two buttons, and a pleated charcoal wool skirt and a lighter gray wool jacket. This was a long way from the fashionable layers of office wear I was used to. 

At the bank, I kept the jacket on while I got coffee and sat through the usual staff meeting, where everyone else was much more casual. I ignored their looks, and thought about the day ahead. There was no question, I had no choice but to do exactly as Ms. Sabrina had asked, I could not risk even more exposure and I wanted this new job, not a return to the web chats.

It was after ten when the bank auditor showed up and Kristin brought him into my office. I came out from behind the desk to sit with him at my table, where he spread out his work papers and his notes. He was a very average looking man, sort of a young middle age, a gray person in a gray suit, and I was nervously half listening as he went on and on, until I caught what he was saying.

"... so you see, having the right records is the key here, to avoid problems you will need, um, a full disclosure of all the key assets, we need to have complete transparency and make, a ahh, clean breast of things to try to avoid complications, so..."

Was he Master Jeff? It seemed unlikely, but he had paused at that point, and he was looking at me as he searched for the words to continue. I casually tried to slip off my jacket, and then to sip coffee as I moved my chair to the side. With no bra, my hard nipples poked at the low cut blouse that was barely buttoned, and I found a way to lean and cross my legs so that the pleated skirt rode up and opened. I moved some more, releasing a button, and I knew he could see the flash of the silvery thong under my skirt, and all of my cleavage and the curve of my breasts exposed like a starlet on the red carpet. I sipped coffee and moved to allow him better views, and I watched his face go very red. He was trying to think of what to say, and I realized he was not the Master Jeff I was looking for. I had to pretend nothing was happening until he fumbled his briefcase and left.

My lunch meeting with Jeff Soprano was at the dark steakhouse down the block, which suited his developer style, a younger man with swept back dark hair and a lot of gold jewelry. I slipped my jacket off in the restaurant, in case he was the one, but tried to look interested as he went on and on about all the business deals he won and the great opportunities of this new project. "...but the problem is always getting others to see what you really have, most bankers have no vision at all, they are so, um, buttoned up, they are not truly open to the excitement of new ideas, they need to let their hair down and let their instincts take over, to really get the potential of an opportunity like this one.."

We had chosen a table toward the back, and I was sitting facing him but with my back to the half-empty room. We were finishing the last of the steaks, and the waiter had disappeared. I saw him pause, and look at me with an arched eyebrow. I slipped a clasp out of my hair, to let it fall down to my shoulders, and I looked down at the table and said nothing as I undid the two buttons to let my silk blouse fall open, and moved it to the sides to expose my breasts, and I could feel my nipples hardening. I sipped some red wine, saying nothing, feeling the dampness between my legs. There was a clatter as he put his wine glass down on top of the silver, and it tipped over and collided with his water glass. His wide eyes and his confused stammer of words told me that once again I had assumed too much, and humiliated myself. I was slipping my jacket back on and standing as he tried to clean up and promised to send me a full brochure, while he tried to hide his obvious arousal too.

The third Jeff meeting of the day was out of the office, so I had to take a taxi out to what turned out to be a small factory building in the swampy pine woods along the highway, actually two buildings I saw as the cab stopped. The offices were in a small, gray building with dark glass and metal trim and on the other side of the lot was a metal industrial building and a parking lot full of small cars and pickup trucks. The only car at the office building was a dark, gunmetal gray Italian sedan, parked next to the rattling taxi I was paying. I would need to call another cab to get back to town later.

I took my briefcase into the glass entry, where I was facing a dark glass door with a security box. I pushed the button, gave my name, and heard the buzz and click as the door released. When I stepped in, the reception area was empty and it was very chilly and dry, so I shivered. I was standing, waiting a moment, when the door beyond the reception desk opened and an older man came out. He was much older, certainly past his 60s, and so slim I wondered if he was healthy, with well-cut grayish hair.

"Sorry, the office staff is off at a meeting today, you must be from the Bank? I'm Jefferson Monroe, the founder and CEO here. Come on back to my office, I think you'll find it more comfortable." He turned and left me to follow him through the heavy door and down the carpeted quiet corridor. I made the usual nervous new-business small talk, as we passed photos of company events and group meetings on the corridor walls.

His office was a surprise, after all the gray corporate spaces. It was more like a library, with French doors to a patio surrounded by the Florida pine forest, and no view at all of the factory areas. The leather sofa, wall of books, and dark wood furniture seemed to be from some well used mansion, not an office supply catalog.

"I'm named Jefferson, after my grandfather and a long line of Southern politicians, but I think, Five—you should call me Master Jeff."

I was very nervous now, and I froze at first, with my fears confirmed but knowing I had to do the right things. He took my briefcase and set it aside, then took a step back and crossed his arms to look me over. 

"Strip for me now, Five, the jacket and blouse and skirt, but keep the rest."

My face was hot as I unbuttoned the jacket and then the blouse, and unzipped the skirt to step out of it. My nipples were hard in the chilled air, and the too-small silver thong curved under my belly, as I stood in heels and stockings, with my slave chain and tag exposed. I could see birds among the pines outside, as I waited and he examined me. 

His hands were confident and matter of fact, as he inspected all of my body, lifting and lightly slapping my breasts, tugging on my hard nipples, fingering the chain and the tag between my legs, cupping the silver thong, tracing my legs, opening my mouth and arranging my hair. I stood and offered myself silently. He pushed my head down, to bend at the waist, and I braced my arms on my knees. His foot pushed my legs wider apart and he studied my exposed ass and unshaved pussy lips. He pushed two fingers into my wet cunt, without comment, and moved them to feel how wet and loose I was now.

"Stay."

He left the room, and I waited like that, bent over, with my breasts hanging, wet and aroused. When he came back in, I saw he had exchanged his business clothes for a rich burgundy paisley robe with an embroidered monogram and a golden silk sash, worn with soft tan leather riding boots. The half-open robe did not hide his short but thick hard cock.

"This robe is part of our new line; we're bringing out a new "Story of O, Chateau d' Roissy" collection of 'passionate fashion for men and their women'. We are thinking that with new interest in '50 Shades' and the like we can time it to do quite well. We'll do some modern takes on the classic "O Dress" and some upscale Master and Slave wear. Ms. Sabrina is one of our investors, and she is quite interested in this. She said she knew just the executive who could help us test the collection, and do the business plan, working in her spare time. Welcome to the project, Five."

He pulled hard on my hair, as he stepped behind me and slapped my ass. He roughly spread my lips and thrust into my cunt, using the other hand to grab a breast hard. He was tall enough to lean over my back as he plowed me, using me roughly with no comment. His thrusting continued until I felt the hot spurts, when he pulled out and swung me around to put his pumping cock to my lips. I was trying to gulp and swallow and lick him, as the cum covered my chin and lips. He gripped my chain belt as I cleaned him, and looking past his hip I saw the pine grove and the blue Florida sky.

18

My life changed again, after meeting Master Jeff. Deb still took me to work at the bank every day, where I did the usual mid-level manager work, but most days at the end of the work day a car was waiting to take me out to the factory offices for evening meetings with investors and designers and managers. The difference was that the car now took me to a side door, where I used my key to enter a small, unused old locker room. The metal lockers were dusty and starting to rust and the tile floor was patched. The small toilet room had an old shower stall and a toilet with no seat and had a strong smell of mildew. One locker had "5" written on it in black marker, which was where I left my fashionable new work clothes every time. I stripped, trying not to get things dirty, and tugged on a small red thong and slipped on very high red heels. I used the cracked mirror to put on red lipstick, with a smear of it on each nipple. My gray metal chain hung around my hips with the tag hanging between my legs.

When I went through the door to the offices, I was in the carpeted corridor of ordinary office space, standard offices and a conference room, with Master Jeff and his senior people having regular business meetings, in which I was included. This was more humiliating and degrading than even the web cam; instead of being on stage alone in a room, or a slave at a party, I was required to do a real job while being the only naked person in the room. It was like the reality of a common bad dream. I would be part of a discussion of marketing or business strategy, in the conference room with flip charts and white board and PowerPoint slides, trying to make my points while naked except for my chain, the thong, and the heels. There was nothing subtle about the looks, as the business people stared frankly at my exposed body and hard nipples, and my breasts swayed and my ass jiggled as I wrote on the board. Anyone in the room was free to come close and touch my body in the most obscene ways, and within a few days all of the men and most of the few women knew what my breasts, belly, thighs, ass, and mound felt like.

Some days it was these business meetings, other days were fittings and trials of the new clothing line. Just as in the books, the O Dress was a long skirted gray satin dress which could be opened easily in many ways. I stood on the fitting platform, as the design team tested it, to expose my body under it. I also modeled the other items, from the metallic female slave outfit to the men's breeches, which I wore while topless as they laughed at my trying to even look male; they stuffed my crotch and laughed harder at my new cock and tits look.

During the breaks for coffee and sandwiches, anyone might decide to use me; with no comment or question someone would be touching or using my mouth or my sex or my ass, since that was obviously my role, then work would continue. I was always the only one naked and wearing the chain, and as the meetings wrapped up I would go alone to the dingy locker for a cold shower and dry myself with rags before being driven back to Ms. Sabrina's.

19

After weeks of this, when I showed up one evening and I saw that along with the red thong to wear, they had left me the plastic mask from my web chat room. I put it on, and walked into what turned out to be a Board of Directors meeting, with 20 men and women I had not seen before. In my mask, I was a plastic-faced doll with a woman's naked body. I saw that Ms. Sabrina was in the midst of a presentation.

"..so as the chart shows, initial shipments of the Roissy line will be $5.7 million starting next month." She smiled at me. "And, let me introduce our new VP of Development, Ms. Fivre, who as you can see is totally committed to the 'passionate apparel' concept." There was no place to sit, except a high stool at the front which left me facing the audience with my legs braced wide, fully exposed.

She changed to new slides, ones I had not seen before. The first slide had images of the Roissy clothing, along with classic erotic images of women in gowns and corsets, stockings and heels, and elegant black leather and latex.

"This is classic erotica, all about upscale fashion and ideas, and clothing with satin and lace and at least pretending to be elegant." Her second slide came with country music, and images of pickup trucks and guys in cowboy hats and women barely dressed in denim and country costumes. "This however is where most of the market is, the same people who work in the factory here and down at the big box stores." Her next slide was rough images from the web, of women as outdoor slaves and pony girls and in training. In one image a frightened looking thin woman was naked on a meadow trail, with her hands secured in a wooden pole across her shoulders, scared of something behind her. "And this is the new taste, for things darker and outdoorsy and not so elegant. So we will start work now on a new line, with Ms. Fivre leading the study, something we are calling for now "Everyday Slut."

I was hidden behind my plastic mask, looking at the business crowd making notes and chatting, while my mind kept going back to the frightened woman, in bare feet on a muddy trail, a long way from the idea of elegant Masters and fashionable slaves in a French mansion.

The work started the next Saturday, when I came into the fitting room in my usual thong and heels. Shirley and Dave, the designers, and Master Jeff were there, looking over a pile of fabric. She spoke up. "Five, take off everything now, we have some new things for you to try." I slipped off my heels and tugged the thong down, to stand naked in front of them wearing only the chain and tag.

Shirley took a critical look, and reached out to touch my trimmed mound. "No more trimming, Five, this new look needs a bushy natural style, sort of a womanly MILF-in-distress look. You need to be overflowing your bikini line now. Here, put these on."

She handed me a sort of soft corset, in camouflage fabric, and a denim thong, with work boots in a woman's size. Putting them on, I looked like the women in the last slides, with my feet in low boots, bare legs, and a corset that rode above my hips and supported my breasts while leaving them almost fully exposed. She handed me the plastic mask. I was an outdoor slut doll now, looking sexy yet ridiculous.




Florida Submission



Master Jeff smiled as he studied me in this outfit, and then reached out to cuff my hands behind me. "This has the look we need, and we've decided to have you do a short video for the next sales meeting up in Atlanta. Here's what we worked out." He held out an orange plastic box, with a dark plastic dome. "This is what deer hunters and trappers use, a motion-activated video camera. We wanted a natural look, something real not something in a studio. So we set up a trail, in the pines, for you to follow." He pointed out the window, at the low Florida pine forest around the office. "Just go out for a jog, follow the marked trail, and follow instructions, like an exercise trail in a park. At each station, the camera will get the video, and we'll put them together into a short film sort of."

I was looking at the sample camera, and seeing myself almost naked in the mirror in my boots and new outfit. The course is about a mile through the woods, the ten stations are marked, and the car will be waiting for you at the end. You only have an hour, though, or Ms. Sabrina will have you punished later, so get going!"

Dave opened the French doors as Master Jeff slapped my ass hard. Once again, in my new life, there was nothing to do but keep going. I trotted out into the sunlight, with my hands behind my back and my breasts bouncing out of the corset as I ran. The trail was marked by orange plastic ribbons on the tree trunks, and I was out of sight of the offices after a few turns. I realized I had no way to keep time, so I would have to go as fast as I could.

I came out into a clearing, trotting down a slope, and I saw one of the cameras on a tree above, with a clear view of me in the mask bouncing almost naked down the trail. Around a corner, I saw the sign.

"# 1. Use the dildo."

The tree had a shocking purple silicone cock fastened about 5 feet above the ground, jutting out, and a camera nearby. With my hands cuffed, I licked it to get it wet then sucked and licked it for a minute with head bobbing. They had the video now. I kept running, faster now, looking for the marked trees. The trail went down into a large muddy puddle, and I had to splash through it in my boots, noticing a camera there too.

"# 2. Use the dildo."

There was a low tree stump here, with the purple cock on top of it. I had to awkwardly tug aside the thong and fit my body down over it, squatting and humping it for a minute as the camera looked on. I was running again, brushing through the soft pine branches and sweating now, with the mosquitos finding me.

"# 3. Use the dildo."

This one was poking out lower down from the side of a tree trunk, so I was kneeling on the pine needles and sucking it before running again, up a slope and around a bend in the trail.

"# 4. Use the dildo."

The way it was positioned on the tree, higher up with two upturned logs to stand on, made it obvious. I had to climb up and balance myself while feeling behind me to slide this already-greased plastic cock into my ass and pump on it. I was off and running harder, feeling like I was losing time.

"# 5. Use the dildo."

The tree was in a swampy depression, with the plastic cock only few inches above the ground. I had to get on my belly to awkwardly slither close enough to take it in my mouth with my breasts dragging in the dark mud. Getting up and running, I had a long way to the next place.

"# 6. Across the pond."

A small clearing offered two choices: a muddy pool with a path leading down into it, or a plank bridge halfway across, where I would have to jump the rest. I decided to try the jump, backing up and running hard, with by breasts bouncing, but my jump was short and I splashed down into two feet of water and had to trudge out. I saw the trail, and as I trotted I did not see more signs, so I had to run faster, before I ran out of time for the last four spots.

When I turned the corner, I was surprised to see the gray German sedan there, with the engine running as it waited for me. I was covered with mud, my boots were soaked and my thong was wet, and I was sweating and a mess, with my breasts exposed and my hands still cuffed. I had mosquito bites I could not touch and pine needles in my hair, but with the plastic mask I was still a slut doll. The driver got out to open the door, remove my cuffs, and hand me a phone as I slid into the freezing car. It was Master Jeff.

"We wanted you to stay motivated, so you see there were not 10 places, only the 6. We got some great footage of your terrified run through the woods, it should make a good short film when we add the music, and you really showed off the new slut wear. Nice work, Five."

A week or so later, Ms. Sabrina showed the video to me and the other woman, during our feeding. It had been edited together, and they had other cameras along the trail besides the motion-activated ones.

The video opened with a shot of a red and silver pickup truck stopping along a muddy road in the woods, then the sound of a door slamming. The next shot was me, a half-naked woman running in the pines. When I paused, the camera came in for close-ups: bare legs in stolen boots, bushy pubic hair barely contained in a denim thong, breasts overflowing the camo top, then in closer on the slave chain and tag, and my plastic face. The rest showed a desperate slut, running and sweating and hungrily using every dildo she found, trying to get off, crawling in mud and obviously in some kind of great need. At the end, she is panting and gasping, and can't run any more. The next shot is the truck again, with men laughing, and a closing shot of the new logo: "Everyday Slut". Ms. Sabrina was smiling. "The salespeople loved this, and we put it out on the internet now, as a mysterious little film of a sexy older woman on the run from something, had she escaped? You are on your way to stardom now, Five."

20

So, my second job changed again, from marketing and planning to becoming the model for this viral marketing campaign. The designers came up with more ideas for this line that would be the opposite of traditional luxurious lingerie. I was fitted for low cut bikini bottoms in old faded fabrics, tied at the sides, and for panties so small and elastic they clung to my labia and made them obvious, rather than concealing anything. Shirley laughed when she had me try on the new bra tops and shirts, which had sewn-in plastic beads to give the look of hard nipples poking out, evidence of the Everyday Slut who was always turned on. There was a matching line of accessories, belts and cuffs and collars all in aged leather, like something that had been found in a dusty tack room in a barn, not the stylized look of sex shop items. The leather was thick and the fittings were heavy dull brass, like an old harness.

There was a camera crew now, and we worked in locations that were always rough and had some threatening edge, never in elegant homes like Ms. Sabrina's. My character in the short films which became the commercials, after they had first been released to the internet, always had a feeling of pending danger and sexual need.

Ms. Sabrina and Master Jeff scripted and planned each short film, but they told me it as more believable for me not to know what would happen, and just react to it. Several weeks into this new process, Deb drove me to the office and I went to the disused locker room to change, as usual now. My new costume was hanging on the metal locker: an unusual skirt with sewn-down pleats and a banded top, in a textured olive fabric, and a tight tube top with the sewn-in nipple pads. There were no panties or bra, so I hung my clothing in the locker and saw myself naked in the cracked mirror, with my shaggy and untrimmed pubic hair that was part of this look. The short skirt fit me closely around the hips, with some complicated buckles and snaps, while the stretchy tube top made even my moderate breasts look bigger. To go with the outfit they had given me small work boots with no laces, which would be hard to run in.

I shuffled my way outside, where Ms. Sabrina and her crew were waiting. I was shivering in the early morning chill, even here in Florida." Good morning Five, ready to work? When I say Go, you need to run across the factory yard here, see if you can get to the blue door where you might be safe, otherwise just do your best, as usual- and remember that the day you stop cooperating is the day you are on your own again, but with no money, nowhere to live, and no old life to go back to. This is all you are now; you get to live your fantasy as Slave Five."

There was no time to ask any questions, as she snapped "Go!" and I was running awkwardly across the gravel. I had to half-shuffle and half-run to keep the boots on, and my breasts were bouncing in the tube top. The camera crew was somewhere behind me, but I was running for the faded blue factory door. I was panting, more than halfway there, when there was a roar and the faded red pickup truck came around the corner, spraying gravel. It was between me and the blue door, so I turned and ran for the large garage door.

The factory was empty but the lights were all on, and I knew this was part of the filming. I looked over my shoulder, not sure what was next, and as ran past the machinery large rough hands suddenly grabbed me,

I struggled as a surprised reflex as hands took my ankles and arms and someone pulled a towel over my face. I was trying to shout and to get away as they lifted me and carried me into the factory deeper. I felt the pressure of straps being wrapped around my wrists and ankles, then the whine of the overhead hoist. My arms were pulled above my head, as I felt hands at my ankles. The hoist lifted then clanked to a halt, and I was left alone for a moment. There was a mirror facing me, which would be out of camera range, and I could see myself now.

I had lost the boots, and my bare feet were tied to a wide spreader bar, a rigid metal bar which kept my legs spread in a wide V. My arms were pulled straight up, so that I was an inverted Y shape with my toes barely touching the greasy shop floor. The pleated skirt rode smoothly over my hips but was very short, leaving my bare thighs exposed and straining to carry my weight. The tube top barely clung to my body as my breasts were almost pulled above it, apparently with hard nipples from the plastic beads in it. Once again, I was the Everyday Slut, barely clothed and totally available and from my looks, after being out of breath from running, I was sweaty and panting and apparently in need.

A hand from behind me shoved a rag into my mouth, but I could still see the mirror. I saw movement behind me, and heard squeaking wheels as two men rolled something out from behind the machinery. It was a metal box, like something to use for changing the oil, but it had an arm and a bracket; as they adjusted it I saw it was a large vibrator attached to an adjustable arm, which they positioned behind me, adjusting the arm to place the vibrator just at the entry of my cunt from behind, so it would rest on my clit but not allow me to take it deeper or to escape it.

One of the men signaled, and the vibrator switched on. They made adjustments so that it shook my body, humming all through me, and they rolled out another box, this one I could see in the mirror had a large wall clock set to 12:00.The second hand started to move, as the vibrator on my clit and my lips set up a steady beat. He reached up to pull my tube top down to expose my breasts and walked away. The mirror showed the story: a camera set up to record this half naked woman bound with the humming vibrator, and the ticking clock to show the slow passage of time. Ms. Sabrina and the crew left the camera and walked away, turning out the other lights but leaving me in the spotlight. The clock showed 12:04 and my clit was throbbing.

When I heard the sound of the big door rolling up, I was shaking and straining and aching. The clock read 2:25 when they switched off the lights and stopped the camera. Ms. Sabrina came over and used her cool hand to push back my sweaty hair as I was panting.