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Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 01

By: StoryTeller07



Prologue

'Mr McKenzie you are a bully, and I will not be dissuaded by such tactics.' Jane acidly stated.

Bob smiled pleasantly at the plain woman. 'I'm just used to getting my own way.' 

'Not this time,' she crossly said.

'So it appears,' he shrugged. 'Some you win, some you lose. It is of no importance,' he said, trying to look as though it wasn't. 

There was no connection between him and the developers proposing the project, he just wanted to minimise this arrogant woman's influence on the committee. Although retired, he needed to exert his influence out of sheer habit. Another day, and another battle would be fought, which he would win. He felt a little foolish wanting to be top-dog on the planning committee. 

'Why did you come back here?' she asked. 

Wondering what connection he had with that association of heartless financiers. They wanted to bulldoze a part of the cities heritage, and she was determined to stand in their way. So far she had won the committee around. Due to her influence the vote went against them, and him.

'I sold my engineering business, retired, and came home. What have you done in the mean time, Mrs Marshal?' 

Seeing she wasn't going to answer he continued. 'Call it nostalgia. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I'm bored,' he said. Stowing his papers in an expensive leather briefcase, he turned to go.

'You're bored! So you decided to support that plan to build a retail complex, which would have destroyed the heart of the community you feel nostalgia for. What is the point of that?' she asked, sounding accusatory rather than questioning.

'Supporting progress maybe. Out of habit of battling old fashioned busy-bodies like you. Though, put like that, it does seem counterproductive,' he conceded.

He opened the door for her to marched out of the meeting room, receiving a look of disdain in passing. Returning it with a look of amusement, he watched her trot down the corridor. For the first time, he realised she had an attractive hourglass figure. The clothes and expression of condescension she wore, gave an impression of a frumpy, old maid. There was something interesting under that prickly exterior. He tried to recall her from college days, but his memory failed.

The small city had been by-passed some years ago by state highway two-twenty-four. If it was going to survive, re-development was needed, and she was standing in its way.

The planning committee could have easily re-zoned the run down district, for a brand new shopping mall. They would have done, except for her bullying influence. She had a nerve to call him a bully. It was just that he had the nerve to oppose her.

***

Six months passed with several small battles fought, with Bob losing them all. He was put-out when meeting her at local charities, and other city committees, yet conceded to the narrow minded, parochial woman. At least she took interest in their town, and was doing something where others didn't care a hoot.

It was a fine morning on the veranda overlooking a placid lake, when he noticed something in the local paper. Bob read that Mrs Marshal's husband, Philip, had died. The article didn't give many details, except that it was an air crash due to bad weather. 

Despite their antagonism in meetings, he felt sorry for her. Perhaps without her husband's influence she might lose some local support. She might even resign from the planning committee. A twinge of guilt was difficult to shrug aside. He decided to send flowers with a well worded card of condolence. 

 

The Party

In the lounge Jane picked up a gum wrapper Louise had dropped near the wicker waste basket. Instead of trying for a better aim, she pushed it into a pocket. It would be better to dispose of it in the kitchen waste bin, for paper recycling. Looking around the immaculate lounge, she was satisfied all was in order. For the sake of it, she shook and straightened a cushion, then returned to the kitchen.

'You're not going to a party dressed like that!' Jane, tight lipped, plainly told her daughter.

'You're just a prude, mom,' Louise dismissively stated. 'I'm going to make Mark sorry he chucked me. I'll only be there long enough to make sure he wants me back,' Louise said. 'I'll make it plain to everyone, I'm chucking HIM,' she added, as though it were a foregone conclusion.

Jane was pleased Louise had broken up with the arrogant young man, but didn't like the idea her daughter was still fired up over him. The short, figure hugging dress, was designed to gain his attention. It might get Louise too much attention, especially if she was flirting with other guys to make him jealous. 

So it was him that broke up with her, not the other way around, which she had casually mentioned a few days ago. Like her father, when she had a mission in mind, a stern determination took over, and nothing would deter it. It was almost a year ago, when he insisted on taking an unnecessary business flight that changed their lives.

It was times like this Jane missed her husband. He would have laid down the law, and made sure she wore something sensible to the party, or forbid her going. Jane tried once more to talk her into changing. Seeing her daughter's determined look It, it was obviously useless,. She was becoming more forceful, like her father, with every argument. 

Without his support, she was giving in, and not just to her daughter. It seemed any determination to exert her will was failing, in every aspect of her life. That very morning the bank manager had been insistent adjustments be made to their living standards. She just couldn't find the energy to counter his arrogance. 

It was better to avoid another skirmish descending into an argument, with it inevitably turning nasty. Last time they had a fierce argument, Louise reminded her she became pregnant at the age of sixteen. Her daughter was eighteen, more sensible, and a strong character like her father. Since that hurtful argument, Jane avoided confrontations, by letting her daughter explore a burgeoning adulthood.

'I'm eighteen, not sixteen,' Louise bitingly reminded her mother.

'Alright, have it your own way. Just be careful,' Jane said. She found herself having to bite her tongue, to prevent trotting out a familiar saying, 'Don't do anything I wouldn't.' 

Getting pregnant at the end of a high school party, had been a setback all those years ago. She didn't want Louise to experience the same mistake. 

Her daughter glared, as though resenting being given permission for something she was going to do anyway.

Jane thought of going to the party on some pretext, but that would merely incite her daughter to a greater rebellion, throwing off the little authority she had left. The bedroom was clean and tidy, so she set her mind on clearing out a closet in the spare bedroom. Finding a masquerade mask reminded her of that special party nineteen years ago. 

A fond memory of becoming a woman led to an awful thought. Would history repeat itself with Louise? Money was short already. An unplanned pregnancy would be an impossible burden. Young people didn't get married today just because of an inebriated mistake one night. Louise's plans for university would be killed outright, which would be devastating for both of them.

She pulled on a dress and the old mask, wondering if it might be possible to attend the party. Could she get away with the ruse? Since Brian had passed away, she had lost weight. A slim figure left her looking good, though she didn't appreciate it. Without the mask it would be obvious she was an intruder, a dreaded parent. Being identified as Louise's mother, which anyone of her friends could do, would be a disaster.

The party was at Mark's parents house, and he certainly knew her, as did his mother. She didn't like the idea of meeting that woman. The mother, Margaret, was as arrogant and disdainful as the son. Another reason against their relationship blooming again. 

It was a foolish idea, even more so than just turning up on some alleged reason. It was dark outside, and there would be low lighting at the party. If Louise didn't get back on time she might, just might, be able to make a brief appearance. If her daughter was in trouble, she could do something. After all, she was a mature woman, and they were just a bunch of adolescents. The thought that her daughter was at a party with Mark's friends, wasn't pleasant when thinking over what happened to her all those years ago.

She fixed a drink. It had to be a scotch with plenty of water, as it was all that was left in her husband's drinks cabinet. The life insurance didn't stretch to replenishing luxuries.

The dress was too old fashioned. It was also a bit tight around the bust, proving she hadn't lost all the weight gained while married. She found a skirt from long ago, and was pleased to find it zipped up. It was a bit short, having to pull over larger hips. Though it was just right for a partying eighteen year old. Enjoying dressing up, she continued working through the back of the wardrobe. 

A while later, three drinks had been downed, and several outfits rejected. Through the restricted vision of the mask, she glanced at herself in a mirror. She looked good. Good enough to party. 

***

Jane giggled. More from nerves than delight, as she stood outside Margaret's house. She dropped the flat shoes behind a shrub and pulled on a pair of high heels. 

'Wow! I'm not used to these things. How long ago was it I dressed up to go out?' she murmured, with a self-conscious giggle. It had been a long time since partying on a Saturday night.

From a sudden flash of anxiety, she was about to turn around and wobble off home, when the door opened. Startled in the glare of a security light, she nearly fell off the heels. A large young guy gripped an arm, and pulled her in. 

'You're late!' he said. 'I'm glad you turned up. You look just right for me,' he joked.

'I wasn't invited, I should leave,' Jane blurted out. It wasn't a game, she was actually there, and that was enough to sober her up. For a moment thoughts were crystal clear. Her body was swaying on a different rhythm to the loud beat escaping from the lounge. 

'Nonsense! You look so sexy, how could anyone turn you away?' Angelo laughed.

He gripped an elbow to steady her, and led her into the gloom of a party in full swing. He grabbed a glass from a friend, and thrust it into her hand. If he let go, she might fall off the high heels. She wondered who it was behind the mask, and worried if he knew her.

'Knock it back, you need to catch up with everyone else,' Angelo chided her. 

The beat of the music vibrated her ribs. The gyrating dancers were just shapes in the dark. He gripped her hips forcing her to dance with him. She sipped the fizzy orange, while looking where to deposit the glass. Finding it palatable, she downed it, so as to free up a hand. She needed both hands free to push him away, as he was becoming a little too familiar. 

An aftertaste of vodka warned it had been a mistake to tip back the glass. She was already unsteady, and vodka on top of whiskey didn't help. It felt as though she would take a tumble if he let go. The dance rhythm slowed. He wound his arms around her for a much closer dance, which turned into an embrace. She felt his hands wander down to her bottom, and he tugged her tight against him.

It was disconcerting not knowing who he was, and if he knew her daughter, or even her. Turning the closeness to her advantage, she shouted in his ear.

'I need to go to the bathroom!' At least the last word was pronounced reasonably well, so he got the message.

He dragged her by the hand across the room toward the hallway. She knew the layout of the house, yet let him lead the way through the throng of gangly limbs. It was true, she needed the bathroom, and it helpfully meant escaping his grasp. The close packed throng of gyrating bodies, of hot sweaty adolescents, were pressing in on her. Jane was finding it even more difficult to keep on her feet, after one too many drinks, and the stifling heat of young bodies.

Almost reaching the door, she became caught between two young men. They closed in, to perform a grinding dance against her body. They pressed up against her, front and back, sandwiching her tightly. She felt a hardness rub her bottom. Startled, she pulled away, only to press her belly against an equally hard bulge in the other guys jeans.

'Stop that right now,' she protested crossly. They couldn't hear or understand the disapproval. In any-case, they weren't interested in what she had to say.

Angelo was laughing at her, though she heard nothing above the blaring noise that they thought was music. She had to pull at the rising hem with hands pushing down between them, back and front. Her hands rubbed their hardness on the way down, and back again. 

Already embarrassed, she felt trapped, like a bitch between two dogs. They were playing with her, blatantly teasing her. Jane wished she were taller, or more able to look after herself. She felt stupid over letting these young guys paw her body. In a mall, shopping with her daughter, they would have treated her with respect.

A pair of strong hands from behind, slid up the t-shirt. The guy in front gripped her wrists preventing her from protecting herself. She looked up at the one before her, trying to make him understand the struggles were a protest, not a wild dance. He was encouraging his friend to synchronise their thrusting hips. 

Jane was outraged. They weren't the only ones behaving outrageously, but she was a respectable woman. If she was caught in this position by her daughter, there would be hell to play. The absurdity of the thought, that her daughter would be angry with her, brought on a fit of giggles. The nervous laughter left her feeling weak, and encouraged them.

The guy behind her squashed her tighter against his friend. The one in front lifted her, with his thighs between hers. She was heaved off the floor, leaving her feeling like a doll, being played with. He let her down into his friends grip, and let go of her. He pushed up his mask to balance it on the top of his head, and moved in for a kiss. Her mask covered her head, down to below the nose, leaving her mouth and chin exposed.

Jane gasped in surprise. It was that nice quiet boy, Trevor, from Louise's class. He was only a month older than Louise. Before she could shake off the shock, he found her mouth hanging open, and delved in. 

What could she say? Nothing at the moment, while his tongue explored her mouth. She had to take a quick breath when she could. This hadn't been foreseen, being groped by a stranger, while deeply smooching with a friend's son. He would be appalled to know he was deeply kissing one of his mother's friends. His church going mother would be livid, and probably never speak to her again.

The guy behind kept her in place by pressing her bottom with a lump in his trousers, and both hands wrapped around her breasts. She tried to clench her thighs, but they were either side of Trevor's legs. She felt a hand slipping from a breast, on a voyage of exploration. Her frantic wriggling was misinterpreted as enthusiasm. 

On feeling a hand cupping her crotch, she tried to shout defiance. She began to struggle free, then instantly froze. Louise was nearby in the dark. There was no way she wanted to bring attention to what was happening. 

A finger pushed at the crotch of her panties. In her head she cried out in anguish, but dare not fight back. She was a mature woman, and should be treated with respect. Instead the young stranger behind her was fingering her panties. From behind the mask she watched her daughter dancing close by, willing her to move away so that she might fight them off. As though they might pick up on her thoughts, she repeatedly shouted, NO, in her mind.

Trevor's deep caresses, and fumbling hands in the t-shirt, were forgotten. A hand was working its way into her panties! She had never been so badly mistreated, not even as an adolescent. She would never have dared to play around on the dance floor, or anywhere else like this.

Was it anger or the kissing that had her breathing heavily? The heavy beat of deafening music, combined with alcohol, turned her thoughts to mush, and defeated her resistance. Her mind was being assaulted by basic animal instincts. Fingers were teasing hardened nipples. Fingers were rubbing a wetness between her legs. The state of arousal was overwhelming.

It was all too much. It had been a long time since having sex. Sexual needs had been awakened. Everyone and everything around her was blanked out. She kissed Trevor back, entwining a tongue around his. She pressed her breasts into his hands, rubbing her nipples between his fingers. She blatantly separated her thighs, and pressed her sex onto the strangers fingers. The teasing fingers rubbed a pair of sensitive lips, encouraging her writhing movements. 

The moment of protest was long gone, and so was her self-control. It had happened so quickly she had no time to summon the least willpower. She moaned loudly, which went unheard as it blended with the throbbing music. A finger was working its way in, ready to slip into a soaking wet vagina.

At that moment Angelo pulled her free. She didn't hear what he said to his friends, but it was enough for them to release her. Feeling weak at the knees, breathing heavily, she managed to keep up with Angelo. She was now frightened of letting go of his hand. 

'Upstairs,' he indicated, with a nod of his head.

The shame over what happened was too much to handle. So many emotions and chemicals swamped her brain, her thoughts were reeling. Expecting him to pull her up the stairs, she wondered why he let go. The bedrooms were upstairs, and were probably being used for a quick fumble. She was disappointed he wasn't taking her up there. The naughty thought was quickly suppressed. What was wrong with her? That such a thought occurred at all, meant the alcohol was more effective than she realised.

Holding onto the rail she carefully climbed the stairs. Looking back from the top step, she saw why he remained there. He was looking up the short skirt. The panties had been massaged between her cheeks, but she couldn't bring herself to adjust them while he watched. She wanted to shout at him not to be so rude. She was a married woman, and a mother, so deserved respect. Not married any longer, she reminded herself. 

Jane was hot and bothered from the uncouth manhandling on the dance floor. Now fired up, even Angelo's rudeness was adding kindling to her fire. Settling for a cross look of disdain, she quickly turned away from him, intending to stride away. Instead she stumbled precariously toward the bathroom.

'Not used to heels then?' a girl laughed.

There was a line waiting for the family bathroom. The young women looked her up and down. Their eyes glinted evilly behind the masks. Just as it had been all those years ago, the end of college masquerade allowed them to behave mischievously. More than that. They could put aside their usual reticence, to behave badly. Over eighteen years ago she had given herself to Philip. In those days he had done the decent thing, and they married before Louise became a noticeable bump.

Where was her daughter? She had seen her on the dance floor, and wondered if she was upstairs with some boy. Jane had been too preoccupied with saving herself to keep an eye out for her daughter. If she had been recognised by Louise, it would have been her, being marched home in disgrace. The inappropriateness of that idea, made her laugh.

An uncontrollable fit of giggles had her wondering if she was drunk, or just reacting to the shocking experience. Unable to wait for her turn outside the bathroom, she automatically hobbled to the master bedroom, as though it were her own house. She had to press her thighs together to hold back from wetting herself.


Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 01



Using an awkward gait, she headed for the private bathroom. She knew it would be there, following the layout of her own house. It was too late. With a touch of disgust, and dismay, she dropped the soaked panties down the bowl, and flushed. A yelp of panic was only just stifled, from turning into a loud wail of distress. It was now even more imperative not to attract attention.

The skirt was too short not to be wearing panties. Especially after what happened on the dance floor. The idea had been to look out for her daughter, yet she was the one falling deeper into trouble. 

The bedroom was the largest, so naturally it was Margaret's. Jane looked around the room for the first time. It was a boudoir. A place to seduce a man, rather than a personal bedroom. Margaret's salubrious reputation for getting on in business had been hinted at many times. The mirrored ceiling over a large round bed, confirmed the rumours. 

Holding down the skirt she crossed to a set of draws. Pulling the top one open revealed jewellery. Expensive looking earrings, broaches, pendants, everything a woman needed to look glamorous. Each piece was laid out in a segment of its own, ready to be selected and worn with the appropriate outfit. Jane couldn't help picking up a diamond necklace. Was it real? Why wasn't it in a safe?

'What do you think you're doing?' A heavy, accusatory voice asked.

Jane span around with the sparkling diamonds twisting between her fingers. 

'Caught you red handed!' Mark sneered.

'No! I was just, err, admiring them,' Jane lamely explained.

'My mother will call the police. Come on, I'll take you down stairs to her office. You can explain why you're here, uninvited,' he sternly spoke, while beckoning with a wagging finger.

'Please don't! I wasn't doing anything wrong,' she pleaded.

'What are you doing in my mother's room going through her jewellery then?' he asked, with a scornful look.

Jane felt trapped. How could she confront his mother dressed like this? If the police were called it would look as though she had entered the party in disguise, as a thief. Even if they weren't called the woman was certain to gossip over what she thought had happened.

'Well?' he asked.

'I was looking for a pair of panties,' she quietly murmured. 

'Why?' he asked, in disbelief.

'I wet mine,' she miserably explained. 'I couldn't go down stairs without wearing any,' she added. Her voice sounded as thin as the excuse. It was embarrassing making such an admission to this young guy, yet nothing else came to mind.

'Prove it,' he said.

Jane looked up at him, not wanting to believe what he was suggesting. Her head flopped down again in dread. Being marched downstairs through that crowd, to stand before his mother, must be avoided at all costs. With trembling hands, she lifted the hem of the skirt.

'Higher!' he demanded. 'Do as I say, or I'll leave it to my mother to figure out why you're rummaging through her jewellery,' he sternly said.

Feeling wretched, she resigned herself to the humiliation. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the hem around her waist. He said nothing, just standing with arms folded, staring at her nakedness. Out of the corner of an eye, she could see him examining her.

It was only just bearable because she wore the mask. The anonymity helped the idea of hiding from him, of being someone else, letting another suffer the agony. She knew who he was, and what his mother was like, and how she would take advantage of the dreadful situation. This was preferable, compared to standing before Margaret dressed like a slut after losing her panties. If the gossips circulated this story, there would be devastating embellishments.

'Tuck the skirt into the waist band,' he calmly said, as though it were a helpful tip. 

Jane fumbled around, wondering why she was giving in to his demands. The vision of being dragged out to a patrol car, kept bouncing around in her head, keeping her off balance with fear.

The way he was studying her, it didn't seem the degradation was over yet. He was looking at her bottom, reflected in the dressing table mirror. Her thighs were still plastered together in an attempt to hide her most private place. The smug smile on his face was belittling. The only consolation was that he was unlikely to take her to his mother now.

'You've dropped the jewellery. Turn around and pick it up,' he commanded.

Such an intolerable order would have been refused if her head wasn't in such turmoil. How in hell was she going to get out of there without making a fuss and drawing attention. There was only so far he could push her. Before then, she had to talk him into letting her go, and with the mask in place.

Shit! She just wasn't thinking at all. If he found out she was Louis's mother, the world would implode. No way could she reveal who she was to bring this despicable situation to a halt. Somehow she must brazen it out! 

'Come on! Pick it up!' he growled at her.

Having flaunted her nakedness, there was no backing out now. He was just a

nineteen year old, he wasn't going to. . . He wouldn't! She was experienced enough to talk him around and get away. She couldn't make that kind of sacrifice to save her reputation. Even if it meant facing her daughter's furry over the next few months, she would have to do something. 

While her mind scrabbled for an answer, she quickly bent over a chair to scrabble for the expensive baubles. Too late, she realised it wasn't a modest crouch. Her bare bottom was in the air, presenting her sex to him.

She felt a hand on her neck. A whimper escaped her lips. He was preventing her from standing. She could feel her lips pushing from between her thighs. They were still wet from arousal! Probably glistening a message of betrayal, that her sex was ready for him. She wasn't ready for anything, and certainly not for a neighbours son! 

Unavoidably she fell forward with both hands flapping for the open draw, and gripped it tight. With her body stretched over a chair, her back was arched, pushing up her bare bottom. She felt as though she were presenting herself to him. It was all a stupid mistake! This shouldn't be happening!

His hands massaged her bottom, feeling between the cheeks. The light strokes were engulfing her with fired up passion. He was re-igniting the flames from being fondled by two young guys on the dance floor. The culmination of such intense stimulation, after such a long abstinence, shouldn't be here and now. Letting this young guy take advantage of her was all wrong, yet she hadn't the strength to resist her own urge for satisfaction.

A guttural moan escaped her lips. Screaming for help would bring her world down, and shatter her daughters image.

'You want it. Don't you. Tell me!' he demanded.

'Yes, no! Please,' she whined.

Feeling his hardness pushing between her thighs, her muscles tightened, then gave way. Damn! She was having to fight her own body's needs. Unable to accept her disreputable behaviour, she lifted up on tiptoe, in an attempt to escape his cock. His hands wound around her body to massage her breasts, and pinch both nipples. 

Her feet collapsed flat to the floor. She impaled herself on the end of his cock! She thought to tell him that they shouldn't, mustn't! Only she deeply sighed instead. She needed more, much more. She tried to press down on his hardness, only she was stretched out, unable to push back. His cock was gently rubbing between her lips, massaging a most tender spot. It was tightly embraced by her firmly clenched thighs. 

There was much more of him, and she needed it all.

'Please!' she whined, while squirming on the head of his cock.

'Are you pleading with me for more?' he laughed at her.

'Yes!' she hissed through clenched teeth. She was willing to humiliate herself, with all inhibitions shredded and thrown to the wind. The firestorm was raging inside and needed quenching.

'You're a naughty woman, Mrs Marshal,' he said, with a throaty chuckle. He slapped her ass a couple of times, but refrained from thrusting in.

Jane gasped in shock. He knew who she was! She leant forward, struggling to get free, even if it meant falling on her head. The frantic movements wriggled her sex onto his cock. It was agonising to find the fear and struggling was stoking her passion. It was impossible to get free from his tight grip of her breasts, and his penis spearing her. The pain from a harder twisting of her nipples, fuelled her fire. 

He suddenly thrust in deep. The struggles turned from a need to escape, to synchronising with his thrusts. She was fucking him back as hard as she could! From experience of her husband's inability as the only guide, her body needed to orgasm quickly. It wasn't a conscious thought, just a reaction from practice.

Her thighs trembled and she let go of the open draw, so she was firmly held in place by his hands and cock. The orgasm raged through her body and mind. She lifted her head for a scream, only to emit a gargled rasping sound. 

Her thoughts coalesced back into the present, bringing forth the implications of what she had done. He was still doing it! He was using her body, slowly pushing deep and pulling almost out of her. To her amazement the excitement was continuing! A prolonged orgasm was something new and unexpected. 

She hadn't ever experienced a slow build-up to a second orgasm. It was inevitable, unavoidable, and exciting. Hardly recovering from the first orgasm, the anticipation of another was enthralling. As though stunned she let him pump in and out of her, with slow, deep penetrations. So very aware of what was happening, feeling it throughout her body, it was both appalling and exhilarating. It was morally wrong to let this young guy use her body! Yet, the anticipation of another orgasm was overwhelming. 

He thrust in one last time and spurt his load. She let out a low moan of satisfaction. Not as dramatic as the first orgasm, nevertheless, it was deeply fulfilling. Her breathing was slackening, with both legs threatening to give way. She felt replete as never before.

What have I done? The thought wound around in her mind, trying every conceivable angle for an excuse. Her thoughts were still an emotional mush. She wanted him to hold her tight while saying things he couldn't. The concept of just doing it for the pleasure of it, was alien. Her breathing was still heavy, as was her heart. The urge to declare her love was fortunately stifled. It was difficult to say anything at all, so she was spared the embarrassment.

It was difficult to reconcile the pleasure of a purely physical act, with her moral standards. She had this young guys sperm inside her! Doing it with a neighbours son was wrong, very wrong. Yet, she had never enjoyed sex so much. The urgency of dealing with this overtook the dire need to analyse what happened.

'Mark,' she whispered.

'Yes, Mrs Marshal,' he said, with exaggerated courtesy.

While his cock was withdrawing from her vagina, he was taunting her! She was a mature woman, with a daughter almost his age, and had respect in the community. Yet she was being used by a randy young boy. Feeling his cock shrinking from her body, she felt a slight loss. She also felt demeaned and inconsequential. 

'This is all wrong. I'm so sorry, Mark,' she pitifully spoke.

He was still gripping her breasts, and squeezing both nipples between strong fingers.

'Let me go,' she quietly said, with the words sounding like a plea for clemency.

'Ask me nicely, Mrs Marshal,' he teased, breathing the words into an ear.

Given time she might have recovered some sort of composure. Knowing how bad she had been, and that he was going to make her suffer, it felt like some sort of justice.

'Please Mark, let me go,' she pleaded.

'Which first? Your tits, or your cunt,' he growled, while pulling on her nipples.

Before thinking what he meant, she blurted out, 'My breasts, please let them go.' He was hurting her, and so that came to mind first. Then she realised his limp cock was caught between her cheeks, and it was pressing against her swollen lips. 

'They're tits, say it,' he growled.

'Please, let go of my tits, Mark,' she stuttered.

When he let go her body sagged forward, the motion pressing her bottom tight against his thighs. The tip of his cock nudged between her inflamed lips.

'You like that don't you!' he said, demanding confirmation.

'Yes!' she breathily agreed.

'Please Mark, let me go,' she said. This time there was no hiding the supplication in her voice.

'You know what to say, Mrs Marshal,' he teased.

'Please, Mark, take your cock out of my vagina,' she whined.

Shocked from the pathetic sound of her own voice, and for using such despicable words, she capitulated, utterly. She was a despicable woman, no longer important or deserving of consideration.

'What have we here?' Margaret loudly asked. The imperious tones of authority shook both of them.

Mark let go of the woman on hearing his mother's voice. He quickly pulled his clothes together, and headed for the door.

Jane very slowly turned to face this new threat. The mask had been lost during the throws of passion. She stood shivering with fear before the woman. His mother was staring at her with a look of amusement masking her face. In her eyes was a look of hard calculation, as though assessing Jane's worth. Jane felt all the more useless and bad. Useless for letting it happen, and bad for enjoying it.

'I'll speak to you later,' Margaret hissed at her son, as he retreated out the door.

'You're in quite a state. Shall I send you downstairs like one of those naughty girls using my spare bedroom!' Margaret indicated the teenagers outside, with a nod of her head. 'Another dirty slut, caught in the act?' Margaret laughed.

'No! Please, Margaret. My daughter is at the party,' she yelped in panic. It was difficult to think straight, and she desperately needed to plead for understanding.

'Pull your skirt down you dirty slut. You're a nasty, dirty, bitch. Did you purposely come here to seduce my son away from your daughter?' Margaret enquired, with a voce laden with acid tones.

'No! It was all an accident. . . ' Jane couldn't explain how it happened. Her mind was in a whirl from the disgrace of it all. It was far too difficult with a befuddled mind to put words together. It was all too wicked to think about why, and how it happened. 

'If you're saying my son bumped into you from behind, and somehow his penis became stuck in you. . . I'd say I've never heard such a ridiculous excuse,' she jeered.

'I'm sorry, it shouldn't have happened, I couldn't help it,' Jane woefully explained.

'Do you make a habit of seducing teenagers at neighbours parties?' Margaret asked.

'No! This is the first time, honest,' Jane bleated like a lost sheep.

'So you admit that's why you're here, to seduce a teenager. You evil slut!' Margaret laughed.

The harridan had a way of twisting her words. If her mind hadn't been in such a whirl, she would have remembered that from a past encounter with the nasty woman. 

'You'll have to be punished, for this despicable behaviour!' she heavily stated.

'Yes, I guess so,' Jane thoughtlessly admitted. 'Please, don't tell anyone,' Jane begged. 

The thought of rumours circulating about her, growing more sordid with the recounting from one neighbour to another, was appalling. What would her daughter say? She felt so guilty, she readily agreed to anything. What it could be, and how it could possibly make up for what she had done, couldn't be imagined. 

'Get those soiled clothes off and shower,' Margaret crossly told her. 'I'll make sure my son keeps his mouth shut. I'll be back in a moment,' she added.

Jane jumped when the door slammed. She walked awkwardly to the bathroom, feeling all the more retched, with the woman's son's cum drying on her thighs. She scrubbed between her legs, as though trying to wipe away the evidence of her sins. Damn! It felt as though the young guy had spurted a gallon of sperm into her body.

'Aren't you finished yet?' Margaret cajoled her. 'Dry yourself off, and leave everything on the floor. I'll dispose of those disgusting garments,' Margaret growled.

Jane was relieved, not having to put on the stained skirt. She tried to cover her naked body as she was pulled by the arm into the bedroom. She felt a stinging smack on her bare bottom.

'Stand up straight, and do as you're told!' Margaret demanded. 

She was surprised at how attractive the blonde looked. She had only seen her dressed in old fashioned dresses with hair tied in a bun. Often looking like a spinster school teacher, or a dull librarian.

Being pulled around and smacked by a neighbour was humiliating, yet it felt like a just punishment. Being told what to do, as though she were incapable of making a good moral decision, was apt under the circumstances. Without taking in what the garment was, she pulled on the cheap nylon overall, and pressed the studs down the front. 

'You don't deserve anything decent. You're lucky my maid is the same size as you,' Margaret said, scathingly.

'I'm so sorry, I didn't mean any of this, I shouldn't have come to the party. I was looking out for Louise, in case she got into trouble!' Jane bleated, like a lost sheep.

'You didn't do a very good job of it. You're the one in trouble. Do I need to call the police?' Margaret asked.

'No! Please, Margaret, not that. I'll do anything, please!' she whimpered. 

'What am I to do with you? You came into my home in disguise, and tried to steal from me. Don't deny it. Mark told me everything. Dancing like a whore with those boys downstairs! Then I open the door of my bedroom to find you fucking my son! You pretend to be better than everyone else, yet you behave like dirty thieving slut,' Margaret said, while pointing an accusatory finger at her.

'I'm so sorry. It looks bad, I know. I admit I behaved badly,' Jane whimpered, close to tears.

'If I don't call the police, you still need to be punished. Agreed?' she asked. She had a kernel of an idea, though how it would be of advantage she had no idea, as yet.

'Yes, yes, whatever you say, just don't call the police, or tell anyone, please,' Jane begged.

The overall was tight enough that it was obvious she wore no underwear. 'Margaret, I need panties,' Jane pointed out.

Margaret could see the problem, and was about to agree. Instead, her anger flared, 'I'm not giving you a pair of my panties! I'm not having a slut leak my son's sperm in my panties. You'll have to go without,' she harshly said.

'Oh! God! I'm not on the pill!' Jane gasped. The room seemed to close in on her. With legs buckling she swayed precariously. One thought span in her head; the scandal of becoming pregnant by Margaret's son.

Margaret grabbed the stupid woman's face in a tight grasp, almost holding her up by the head. 'Why!' she growled, while shaking the stupid woman.

'Why?' Jane groaned.

Margaret calmed down enough to regain some presence of mind. 'This is serious! When did you last take the pill?' she wanted to know.

'After my husband died,' she gurgled, and gasped for air. 

Margaret gripped her shoulders, wanting to keep the woman upright and thinking. 

'That's a year ago! Damn it! If you have a child by Mark, you'll be my daughter, damn you. . . You have a daughter which will make me a grandmother!' Margaret fiercely whispered. 

She looked as pale as Jane. Her hands dropped to her sides, then quickly grabbed a hold of Jane, before the stupid woman slumped to the floor.

'Oh! No! I can't!' Jane cried, and slumped against Margaret's shoulder. Margaret automatically wrapped her arms around the woman. She shushed Jane, trying to comfort her, or at least quieten the unpleasant keening noise. 

'You need the morning after pill,' Margaret thoughtfully said.




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 01



'Yes, yes!' Jane exclaimed, picking up on Margaret's buoyant remedy. The thought of going to the local doctor, and pharmacy, flattened the momentary euphoria. It was against the rules, but it wouldn't stop that girl in the pharmacy from gossiping about her. She knew her daughter was on the pill, so Louise couldn't be the one needing it. The assistant would spread it around that she needed to solve the problem of a one night stand. 

'Where will I get it? I can't go to my doctor!' Jane complained.

'I'll get it for you. Tomorrow,' Margaret promised. 

Margaret had been worried about Mark getting some girl into trouble, not expecting a neighbour to get herself caught. Well, the stupid woman needed her more than ever. Shit! How could anyone get into so much trouble in so short a time! Even Mark could stay out of trouble for a day.

'You're dressed as a maid, so maybe that's a way of punishing you. You can be my maid. The damn girl walked out last week. I can't cope with housework and business. It will bring you down to earth. Give you a taste for what it's like to be ordinary and lowly,' Margaret lectured her.

Jane nearly collapsed. Was she going to be punished by working as her maid? Surely not! Many at the party would recognise her as Louise's mother. Her daughter would die of shame. So would she.

'When things quieten down I'll smuggle you out of the house. How you get home is your problem,' Margaret explained.

'Thank you Margaret! I don't deserve your help, I've been so stupid,' Jane gushed, almost bursting into tears from relief. So long as no one found out, she could stand a day being humiliated by this woman.

'Get a hold of yourself. It's not over yet. Tomorrow afternoon, you will present yourself here, 2pm sharp. I'll have that pill by then. Do you understand?' she loudly finished. 

Jane nodded. Of course she would be there, she had no choice. A hand absently pressed her stomach. How could she have been such an idiot? The thought of falling pregnant by her daughters ex-boyfriend was mind numbing. She was a mature adult, yet she had behaved like a young horny slut.

'Thank you Margaret,' she gushed, while wondering what would happen to her. 

What punishment was this nasty woman cooking up? Whatever it was, she would have to endure it until she got that damn pill.

'While dressed as my maid, you will say, yes ma'am,' Margaret scorned her. 

It was delightful having this haughty woman at her mercy. This was a game needing to be strung out as long as possible. Jane would have to play along, to keep out of trouble. Anything to keep her awful secret would have to be suffered. At the very least until she took that pill.

'Yes, ma'am,' Jane awkwardly replied. She felt the years roll back, leaving her feeling like an awkward youth, being chastised by an adult.

'I'll keep your shameful secrets, just so long as you return here at two. Make sure you arrive promptly! Got it?' Margaret demanded.

'Yes, Ma'am, thank you, ma'am,' Jane humbly replied.

Jane arrived home from the party, thankfully without anyone seeing her, especially so, in such a humble state of dress. If anyone noticed, she would have been dismissed as being of no account. Her demeanour would have fitted well with the cheap nylon, maids coverall. 

Louise had obviously returned from the party, as evidenced by the mess in the kitchen. Once home she stripped off, threw the nasty coverall into the washer, and slunk off to bed. She lay there trying not to think about what happened, hoping it would all go away after a good nights' sleep. She eventually fell into a fitful slumber.

***

The skimpy top and short skirt, were being pulled out of a dryer by Margaret. Jane stood naked waiting for the awful clothes. She was going to be paraded in public, through the streets, for all to witness her shame.

***

Jane awoke in fright, sweaty and cold. She wondered how this terrible situation would affect Louise. How would she feel on hearing that her mother had sex with her boyfriend? Louise would be the subject of cruel jokes from friends, probably losing all social credibility. Jane's mind turned examined the awful events over and over again. Eventually she fell asleep, from exhaustion.

***

In a brilliantly lit pure white room, Jane was being given a stern lecture about the dangers of pregnancy at her age. The midwife looked, and sounded like her mother. 

'You can't come into the delivery room,' the midwife crossly said. 

Jane saw that it was Mark, and winced. 'If he wants to,' she began to say.

'Your son must wait outside,' the fierce midwife told her.

'He's not my son, he's the father,' Jane apologetically explained, feeling ashamed.

'Dear, me, whatever next!' the midwife reproachfully observed, sounding even more like her mother.

When Jane looked toward Mark, he seemed much younger than his eighteen years. He beckoned to someone out of sight, and with horror she watched a gang of his friends troop in. On seeing the gang of adolescents, she tried to pull her legs together, only to find them in stirrups, which was confusing and frightful. In anguish she looked around for the midwife, only to find she had inexplicably disappeared.

'Mark, they can't come in here!' she warned him, with a voice that sounded feeble and weak. He didn't seem to hear, or simply ignored her. In alarm she watched them gather around the end of the bed. He began to point out her private parts, telling them what he touched to turn her on.

'Mom! You're being rude in front of my friends, pull your legs together!' Louise said, sounding slightly annoyed, rather than shocked.

Jane tried to explain that the stirrups bound her ankles in place, only to find her voice muffled. All she could do was mewl the one word, "sorry", though no-one took any notice. She kept repeating it over and over. More of their friends came in, including the two young guys she had danced with at the party. 

Louise greeted them, and pulled them to the foot of the bed. 'Hi guys, you know my mom,' she said, with an exasperated sigh, and a shake of the head. It looked as though she expected this lewd behaviour, and was fed up from trying to keep her mother decent.

'Hi Mrs Marshal, how are you?' Trevor politely asked. He was looking directly between her legs with avid interest. 'Nice pussy,' he casually remarked.

'You nearly had her at the party, Trevor, so you should finish what you started,' Louise suggested, sounding chirpy and helpful. 

Jane couldn't believe what her daughter was suggesting! Surely she meant the dance. Trevor's face revealed he thought it meant something else. Without seeing her daughter move, Louise was now whispering in her ear. 

'Mark and his mother told me about the jewellery, so I got an idea. We need money for my college fees, so I've stolen Margaret's jewellery, and blamed you,' Louise informed her mother. 

Behind her daughter was an empty, open draw. Looking around the room she saw they were now in Margaret's boudoir. 

'Just in case it isn't enough, I'm charging the guys. Margaret explained that you're a dirty slut, so I'm sure you'll enjoy it, mom,' Louise whispered.

Surely her own daughter wasn't going to whore her out to friends! It was supposed to be Margaret punishing her, yet her daughter was going to punish her in the most disgusting way! She tried calling for Margaret, but her voice was muffled and incoherent. 

Louise loudly shouted, 'Everyone, line up behind, Trevor! If you don't know what to do, Mark will show you. He's already had the bitch.'

Jane tried to gain her daughters attention, but she was organising the queue. With Louis's friends and Marks friends joining in, the queue snaked around the room, and out the door. The line of grinning faces was frightening. 

'Just tell me how you want the slut. Front, back, or mouth, and I'll adjust the bed,' Louise shouted.

'Louise! Don't let them do it to me, I'm not on the pill!' she tried to discreetly tell her, only to no avail. She looked around for Margaret, hoping she had the promised magic pill.

***

Jane woke up shouting that she was sorry. A pillow clamped over her face, fell to the floor. Untangling a sheet from around a leg, allowed her to clamp her thighs together. It took awhile for her breathing rate to subside. A hand slid between her thighs to check all was well down there. The other hand clamped her belly, hoping all would be well there too.

'Margaret will help me. Everything will be alright,' she murmured, only half believing it, yet hoping it was true. Fatigue from the fraught evening had her falling asleep once more.

When dawn light filtered through shuttered blinds, Jane awoke from the half sleep, turned over, and pulled the sheet over her head. She lay in a foetal position, cuddling her knees. 

It had been a long, fitful night, and she felt shattered. She felt unable to muster the resistance to Margaret's demand that she return to the scene of the crime. Neither was she in a fit state to plan an escape from the nightmare. The possibility of being pregnant seeped back into her mind. 

'Oh! God! Please no,' she moaned. 

A scalding shower wasn't enough to remove the stain of sins. She turned the handle trying to purge herself with a fierce cold spray. Nothing would cleanse her conscience. Maybe Margaret would punish her sufficiently to ease the pain. Unable to fathom how that was possible, she immersed herself in the task of cleaning house. Even unnecessary chores had been completed. Time conspired to stand still, dragging its heels, inflicting more anxious moments.

It was the point of return. Louise hadn't made an appearance and for that she was thankful. A smart business suit was meant to re-kindle self-worth, and remind Margaret of her position in society. Clothes maketh a man, and how much more so a woman. Margaret was going to decide her fate, so she had to remind her, and herself, who she was. She was at the woman's mercy, and had to say something in her defence. But what? 

Would it be best to challenge the woman, or simply capitulate. After hardly any sleep, it was difficult to figure out the best strategy. As she walked the two blocks her legs slowed with every step. There was no defence to being called a wicked slut, for that was exactly how she felt about herself.



Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 02



The Clients

She stood almost to attention in Margaret's kitchen, as though she were a dutiful and innocent girl-scout. 

'You look very smart for a Sunday morning. Overdressed, or are you trying to make a point? Perhaps you should have come to the party dressed like that. But of course, you needed to present yourself as a willing slut, to get the boys,' Margaret jeeringly said.

Jane felt foolish and apprehensive. This woman could crush her good reputation by revealing that sordid episode. There was nothing that could be said to defend herself, so she kept silent. She looked crestfallen, with eyes averted, unable to face the tormentor. 

'You can change into the maids uniform. You did bring it back, didn't you?' Margaret asked. 

'Yes . . . Ma'am,' Jane answered. 

She hesitated over using the humbling term with a neighbour and social inferior. It was hoped the neighbour had calmed down, and ease off humiliating her. There again, she needed that damn pill to avoid the horrendous prospect of becoming pregnant from when the woman's son took her.

'I'm glad you didn't steal it, like my jewellery,' Margaret chided her victim.

'I didn't . . .' she began to reply. 

'Don't try to deny anything you did last night. My son told me all about it. Are you a kleptomaniac? I need to know, if you're going to work here as my maid,' Margaret haughtily stated.

'No! It was all a mistake, honest, ma'am,' Jane protested. 

The harridan's words sank in, that she was expected to work as a maid. The objectionable idea cut short the protest. How could this offensive woman expect her to work as a humble maid? Especially for the likes of her!

If anything, Jane had a higher status in the community, yet she was to be treated like a lowly servant. The woman actually used a supercilious tone of voice to rub in their new relationship. As much as she tried, it was impossible to gain say the idea. There was a need within her to be punished, and if this was it, so be it.

'You entered my home dressed like a slut, danced lewdly with teenagers, tried to steal my jewellery, then screwed my son to keep him quiet,' Margaret rebuked her, with a wagging finger.

The list of transgressions was growing, as it would all the more, if the squalid story became subject to common gossip. Jane's shoulders sagged, and she stifled a sob. How could she refuse this woman's punishment, however humiliating it might be. She needed that damn pill!

'Sorry, ma'am,' Jane murmured. 

The words were entirely inadequate for how she felt. Shouting her innocence was pointless, as Margaret made it clear her mind was made up, with nothing else to be said. She shuffled her feet awkwardly, willing to change into the cheap nylon garment as an excuse to escape from the tormentor. Before she could back away to the spare bedroom to change, Margaret started to harangue her again.

'What does that make you?' she asked. 'I mean, giving your body to my son to cover up a theft. What does that make you? I want to know you understand your position here,' she goaded.

'A bad person. I'm a stupid slut, ma'am. . . ' Jane broke off with tears in her eyes. It was only too true. She felt it hit hard. How stupidly and how badly she had behaved nagged at her. What was so damning is that she enjoyed the sex.

'Continue!' Margaret quietly said. 

She was intensely watching the woman physically shrinking before her. In two minds whether to let go, or push harder, she reminded herself of what this woman had done to her business. Her opinion hardened enough to decide on grinding her down.

Jane took a deep breath, ready to declare her repentance. 'I'm a disgusting slut, ma'am. Undeserving of your forgiveness. Ready to be punished for my wrongdoing, and be your humble servant, ma'am.' 

Margaret was stunned. How could this woman be so pathetic? She was old fashioned, highly moral, and self-important. Yet here she was, debasing herself. Maybe that was it. She had shocked herself so deeply, she needed to be chastised for that dirty behaviour last night. Well, she would help her out, by rubbing her nose in the dirt.

'Off you go then, maid. Don't dawdle, maid!' Margaret sarcastically spoke. 

Margaret made a show of shooing her away with a dismissive wave of a hand. It was so amusing having this arrogant neighbour at her mercy, that she decided to make full use of her. Not the she expect this new found humbleness to last long. It was surprising the woman had buckled under so easily, though she was sure to rebel sooner or later. In the meantime it would be interesting to see how low she was willing to crawl. 

Jane prepared lunch, served it to her mistress, cleaned up the kitchen, then returned for further directions. Receiving a constant stream of precise instructions, as though she were a simpleton, wore her down. Jane stood before the tough woman, looking down at her feet, feeling sorry for herself. In reparation she was ready to obey the humblest of orders. The demeaning position of neighbours maid, was indeed a punishment.

She began to realise the humbling retribution was going to be dragged out over the whole weekend. The embarrassment couldn't be endured any longer than that. She missed what Margaret said while daydreaming, her only means of escaping the dreadful woman. 

'Pay attention! You are to prepare dinner for a prospective client. Nothing fancy. Just home cooking, because men appreciate it when away from home. You will serve us this evening. Don't worry! He's from out of town, so won't recognise you,' Margaret smiled. 

'You will be on your best behaviour, serving as my humble maid to impress him. Do you understand?'

'Yes, ma'am,' Jane dutifully answered. 

She didn't like the idea of being shown up in front of someone, though, as he was a stranger it would be less of a burden.

'That cheap thing will have to go. This morning I bought something more suitable to your duties,' Margaret stated. 'Follow me,' she brusquely added.

In a spare bedroom, Jane stripped off the cheap overall. The nervousness of being naked in front of a neighbour, was made worse on catching sight of the clothes. It was certainly a maid's outfit, though more suited to a porn movie than a dinner party.

The dress fitted her well, too well. It confirmed rumours that Margaret used nefarious methods to gain new business. Being used in a sordid plan to distract some businessman with her body was reprehensible. 

The little black dress would have just about covered her thighs, except it was held up by stiff layers of petticoats. She could feel how tightly the sheer panties clung to her cheeks. In the mirror she could see a strip of nylon stretched over her labia. Black stockings were held up by suspender belts gripping her thighs. The white petticoats bounced around her upper thighs, with the flared black dress floating on top. 

A built in corset crushed her waist, squeezing her breasts into a deep cleavage, with the nipples threatening to peak over the top. The ensemble was finished off with a starched white cap, collar, apron, cuffs, and an ostentatious garter above the knee. The black shiny high heels left her legs looking long and glamorous. 

She shuddered, from imagining some old, paunchy businessman, ogling her body all through dinner. On high heels the sheer panties would be level with the tabletop, looking as though her sex was about to be served. When she leaned over to serve him, her breasts would be in his face. Serving her mistress would mean showing off her bottom in clinging sheer panties. 

The poor guy would certainly be distracted from boring business details, and would probably be ready to sign anything after dinner. The degrading performance would have to be endured. At all costs her sordid secret had to be kept from friends, neighbours, and especially her daughter. 

Jane was overcome by an icy shudder. At all costs the shameful gossip would have to be avoided, though where should the line be drawn? How far would she go to protect Louise?

'Ma'am,' Jane quietly spoke, seeking attention. 

'Maid?' she shot back.

'The pill, you promised!' Jane hesitantly spoke.

'You had better take it now, before it's too late,' Margaret scolded her. She rummaged around in her purse, and threw a package at the maid.

Jane missed, and scrabbled on the floor at her mistresses feet. She looked up at her tormentor, with a clear look of relief. 'Thank you, ma'am,' she said, with relief.

***

Jane furtively looked at the man, yet again. This was no middle aged businessman she was serving. The visitor was around her own age, and very handsome. Noticing his glass was empty she rushed to fill it with wine. He smiled at her in way of thanks, again looking her in the eye, rather than ogling her body. It was a pleasure to meet a mature minded man, who didn't talk to her breasts, especially when they were so obviously on show.

Mathew couldn't help noticing how seductively the maid was dressed, though wisely kept his thoughts to himself. Both women were giving him their full attention, most obviously for the same reason. Margaret wanted to gain new business from him. From past experience he knew she was adept at making a man feel important, and at the same time, relaxed in her company. He wondered why she had bothered to arrange for this lasciviously dressed woman to serve them. 

The meal was over and Jane returned from the kitchen with another bottle of wine. She discreetly kept a glass for herself. A drop or two was needed to numb the embarrassment of being dressed like a porn movie maid. At last the ordeal was almost at an end. There was just the kitchen and dining room to be tidied up, after which she could escape home.

"Jane, you can leave the cleaning for later. You're to make up the spare bedroom for Mathew," Margaret ordered.

At least she spoke to her in a more civilised tone in front of Mathew. 

'Yes, Ma'am,' Jane replied, and curtsied. Once out of the room she giggled, from committing the unconscious act of curtsying to her mistress. It was funny how easily they both slid into the roles of servant and mistress after such a short time. The threat hanging over her, and a few glasses of wine, helped her accept the humble role.

'The bedroom is ready, ma'am,' Jane announced. 

Again she dipped slightly, while wondering if she was going too far. Her answer came, in the form of a big smile from her mistress. Unaccountably she felt pleased at this sign of approval. She had fallen in with the woman's plan so as to win approval, hoping for early release from punishment. What she hadn't bargained for was how easy it was to adopt the role so fully.

'Show him where to go. Mathew could do with a massage after a hard week of travelling. Wouldn't you Mathew?' Margaret asked. 

She had prompted him earlier, suggesting that the maid would be happy to oblige. It was touch and go whether Jane would accept. The stupid woman had been secretly drinking in the kitchen, with signs of loosening up somewhat. She no longer habitually pulled at the dress, trying to keep it in order. It was hoped the noticeable attraction, almost amounting to silent flirting, would also help persuade her to oblige him. 

Jane looked appalled. She screwed up her face, trying to appeal for clemency. Surely she was merely being tested, and there would be a way out of this.

'I'm not sure, Ma'am. I don't think I can, ma'am,' she said, trying to squirm free of the order.

'She's learning the skill, so don't expect too much, will you?' Margaret said.

'That's an excellent idea. My back is aching after be scrunched in aircraft seats for so long. I don't mind you practising on me,' he smiled at her. 

A knowing look passed between the two women. Jane bowed her head in submission, confirming she would carry out yet another order to avoid a greater humiliation in front of the stranger. The demon was sure to have some nasty torment up her sleeve. 

Margaret smiled at Jane, pleased with herself for winning another victory over the stupid woman. 

In great trepidation, Jane took a deep breath, desperately trying to remember all she could about massage sessions. Receiving a massage at a fitness centre was a different game to giving one. 

He walked into the bedroom from a shower, and laid face down on the bed. A pillow under his chest was a substitute for a proper table with a hole in it for his face. Jane was trying to control her breathing. 

'Don't be nervous, just think of it as another practice routine,' he encouraged. 

Jane's eyes were drawn from his wide shoulders, down a strong muscular back, to the towel carelessly laying over his cute bottom. Shaking herself awake, she leaned over him with a tube of warm oil. A dribble ran down the middle of his back, to disappear under the towel. She almost lifted the towel to wipe the excess away. 

Fingertips of both hands fluttered over his spine, up and down for long moments. Open, flat hands stroked his back, smoothing in the fragrant oil. She was soon absorbed in fluid motions firmly massaging his legs and feet. The feel of his hard muscles, and the silky smoothness of his skin became ever more sensuous as the initial nervousness faded.

It was a bed, not a professional table, so she couldn't reach his head and shoulders properly, and wondered what to do. His encouraging murmurs of contentment powered her resolve. In a moment of foolishness she pulled the inconvenient petticoats from under the dress. Clambering onto the bed, she manoeuvred either side of his thighs, only then becoming aware this might be going too far. 

He didn't seem aware of what she was doing, not reacting to her being on the bed with him. It gave her confidence to continue. She leaned forward with hands gliding strongly up his back to a pair of wide, strong shoulders. His murmurs of gratitude pushed aside her doubts. The towel moved a little to reveal the cleft of his bottom, confirming he was naked.

Her breathing was becoming courser. If she had been aware of the change, it would have been put down to the strenuous effort. The exploration of his muscular, tanned body, was a pleasure. What she didn't recognise, was how arousing it was becoming. It was as though she were shutting out the emotion, not wanting it to be so.

'Oww! Hahhh!' Jane exclaimed.

'What's wrong?' Mathew murmured, with a deep, drowsy voice .

'Cramp!' Jane forced through clenched teeth.

'Let me help,' he offered, sounding concerned.

He twisted around, careful not to throw her off the bed. He grabbed a thigh in large powerful hands. It was his turn to massage her. 

She was suddenly aware of his nakedness, and how undressed she was. Though still wearing a dress and underwear, there wasn't much substance to either. Without the starched petticoats, the hem fell down around her upper thighs. Automatically looking down to check how decently covered she was, a soft gasp of astonishment slipped from her lips. 

The towel had pulled aside when he turned around. A rampant penis was nestling between her thighs! Her eyes closed tight, not wishing to see, or acknowledge its presence. 

'Unfold your leg. Stretch it out,' he told her, in a deep caring voice. 

She slowly did as she was told, fearful of nudging his penis, and trying to minimise the pain. With his hands carefully guiding them, her legs were stretched out either side of him, with her toes touching his ears.

'That tickles,' he laughed.

She stared at him with eyes wide, as though she were startled, afraid even. His cock was nudging a bare thigh, and his hands were massaging the other. He didn't seem to be concerned over her predicament at all. As though stunned from the bite of his hard snake, she merely sat on his muscular thighs, letting him sooth the cramp.

'Better?' he kindly asked. 

She nodded her head, unable to speak. Through the insubstantial panties she could feel his heat. He lifted his knees behind her, pushing her forward. His rock hard cock nudged her crotch. An uninhibited gasp of pleasure escaped her pouting lips. Her nether lips responded by opening up. They were already engorged. The animal, musky smell of excitement was thick between them. 

A hand slid up her thigh to flick aside the panty crotch. His knees pushed her up his body and little further, with her heels now beside his ears. More dramatic was the feel of his hardness nudging between her lips. She couldn't move or speak. She was aware of his cock, her heavy breathing, and oddly, that her feet were either side of his head. 

Despite her moral reticence, and that this shouldn't be happening with a stranger, she needed it. She tried to move forward onto his cock, but couldn't move in that awkward position. He seemed aware of her desire and difficulty. He smiled at her. Teasing, and daring her to find a way.

He pushed a little more with his knees, and she felt his hardness push aside her wet lips. She couldn't help looking down between her legs. There was much more of him available and she wanted it all.

He thrust up with a powerful lunge of his hips, invading her body. She tried to welcome it by pushing down, but couldn't move. It was frustrating to realise she was helpless, and completely dependent upon him for pleasure.

With every upward thrust her head arched back letting out a warbled cry. The unfamiliar position was wonderful, feeling him penetrate so deeply. His cock was long and thick, leaving her feeling as though he were stretching her inside. 

He held his hips up, with her precariously balancing on them. It felt as though she were impaled upon his cock, and that it was filling her entire body. Shuddering vibrations shook her breasts up and down. His cock had deeply penetrated, with its head pushing at the entrance to her womb. It felt as though his sperm were splashing directly into her womb, fertilising her with strong, virile sperm. 

Her orgasm was short and sweet. After so long without a man she enjoyed the impromptu act with profound thankfulness. She needed it, him, something. She collapsed upon him. They embraced in a sweaty togetherness. 

Later, during the night, they made love. A slow, serene togetherness, compared to the earlier frantic thrusting. Nothing was said. They didn't know each other, so couldn't catch up on a shared past. He was sensible enough not to spoil the moment.

Next morning in the shower, Jane wondered at her wantonness with a stranger. She abandoned her moral reticence to rut like animal in heat, and was shocked. The urge to run to the kitchen to be with him, was tempered by feelings of shame, and confusion over the circumstances. 

She wondered if Margaret had set-up the situation, when seeing how worked up she had become during dinner. Had she offered him a massage, suspecting how it might turn out? It became all the more important to speak to him, and try to explain her dissolute behaviour. She quickly dried her hair, and applied makeup. Everything needed was in the bathroom, adding to the idea that she had been ensnared into pleasuring him. 

The sensible business suit she wore yesterday couldn't be found. Even last night's dream-wear was missing. It was either wear a small towel, or the cheap nylon maids coverall. She had to see him before he left, desperate to try and excuse her wanton behaviour. Dressed like this, it was obvious what he would think of her. She was Margaret's maid, no-one important, just a thing handed to him like a toy to play with.

Margaret watched Jane looking around, looking for Mathew. The expression of disappointment was comical. 

'You've surfaced then. He just left. Eager to return to his wife I guess,' Margaret smirked. 

Jane felt this put down more deeply than any of the previous cutting remarks. 

The idea of building a relationship with him hadn't been thought through. He was a handsome businessman, around her age, and the best marrying material she had met in a long time. She hadn't even considered she was ready for a relationship before now. He seemed a nice, polite, and attentive person. There was something about him that sparked her interest. 




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 02



How stupid was she to expect anything from a stranger. To him she was just a one-night stand, or maybe something worse. Margaret had used her to entertain him, like a hired escort. A nice way of calling her a whore.

Staring at her bare feet, with shoulders slumped, she reflected on all the appalling acts committed in this house. The list of sins Margaret held over her was disgraceful, and growing each day. She needed to escape the tormentor, and get away from this house.

'I need to go home,' Jane pleaded, in a whispery voice. She needed her clothes, as this thing was too objectionable to be seen in. It would be dreadful to meet neighbours on the way home. The tight nylon outfit would be see-through in the bright sunlight, and it was too short not to be wearing underwear. Even if no-one saw her in the street, she would have to sneak in without her daughter witnessing to her shame. 

'You are my maid, remember? Make me breakfast, then, I'll consider giving you some time off,' Margaret sharply stated, with a hard edge to her voice. 'Don't just stand there like a dummy, fix your mistress some breakfast, maid!'

Jane jumped at the sudden, shouted commands. 

'Yes, mistress. Sorry, mistress,' Jane snivelled. 

Jane rattled the frying pan of eggs, and kept a wary eye on the toast. It was important to concentrate on cooking, as she couldn't bear another dressing-down from the ogre, while feeling so retched. She was trapped, and Margaret knew too well how to keep her in place. Serving breakfast wasn't going to be the end of it, but the distraction from dwelling on what was to come next, was nearly working.

Jane felt she deserved to be treated like a humble servant, as a perverse punishment. It was hard to fight off feeling guilty, and so she buckled down to being Margaret's maid. Besides, what could she do to escape the ruthless woman.

***

Jane arrived home, thankful to be wearing the business suit. As usual the streets were empty on a Monday morning, yet she felt so much better walking the few blocks home decently dressed. An added bonus was that her daughter was still in bed. She changed into casual attire and flicked around the house with a duster. There wasn't much to do, but she needed to keep busy, to keep her mind off the last couple of days.

Eventually Louise dragged herself into the kitchen, to demand food and drink. 

'I'm making a sandwich for lunch, what do you want?' Jane asked.

Louise settled down at the kitchen table to eat. She looked up at her mother with a deep frown. 

'I know what you've been up to,' she declared. 

Jane looked away, with a face shading crimson with guilt. 

'Don't bother denying it. You've been at it with someone,' Louise accused.

Jane wondered if she could really tell, or was it just a guess. Hopefully, Louise was merely jumping to conclusions because she had been out all night. 

'I stayed with a friend. She's having a problem with her husband,' Jane half heartedly explained. 

Relieved over her daughter's neutral grunt, she got up to fetch more coffee for them both. Jane gasped inwardly. She only just refraining from calling her daughter, mistress, when offering a refill. 

Damn! The role had bitten deeper than she thought. It had only been a couple of days, yet she had already been beaten into submission by a continuous round of humiliations. One after another the indignities had struck home like physical blows, until she was fragile and susceptible to Margaret's demands. 

'I'll leave something for you. I'm going to keep her company this evening,' Jane quietly spoke, hoping not to be questioned. 

'Whatever,' Louise managed to mumble. 

Louis threw an accusing look over her shoulder, as her mother left the kitchen. Something was up with her. 

Not sure if the look was from suspicion that she was meeting a man, or for abandoning her, Jane sighed. Not biting at the previous accusation, or trying too hard to deny it, had at least avoided a confrontation. She just didn't have the energy for an argument.

Adjusting her hair before leaving, she saw her daughter approach. 'What now?' she thought.

'Where you going then?' Louise asked, with a voice laden with self-pity.

'I told you earlier. There's lasagne in the microwave, you just need to heat it up,' Jane pointed out. 'You're too used to me being here to wait upon you. You need to learn to look after yourself, before going to college,' Jane crossly spoke.

Louise wasn't used to such a biting remark from her mother, and let her go without a word spoken. 'It must be a man,' she murmured. Louise tried to be happy for her, though a tinge of jealousy was felt.

***

Monday evening progressed more smoothly, for Jane had settled into accepting the role of maid. Retreating into the role was her only way of escaping the demeaning position. Her mind was in such turmoil it was difficult to think of a way out of the trap. The chores had been completed, so she stood fidgeting before her tormentor.

Margaret had been both amused and angry when catching the neighbour with her son. She realised it was an opportunity to wreak a small revenge upon Jane, for interfering and scuppering plans for a new building project. 

The prissy woman had been so openly vulnerable, that taking advantage of her was irresistible. First thoughts were along the lines of just blackmailing her, to influence the city planning committee. The humiliation of that night, together with the threat of telling neighbours about her misdeeds, had the stupid woman crawling for forgiveness. Margaret hadn't guessed the woman would capitulate so easily, and so completely. 

It was a surprise to find how easily she was manipulated and controlled. Jane was obviously far more concerned with her reputation than Margaret would ever be. What had been amusing at first, was becoming a business opportunity. Using her new maid to entertain a potential client last night, had been outrageous, yet successful. 

'Stop fidgeting and stand still,' Margaret warned.

'I need to visit the bathroom, ma'am,' Jane said.

'Well go then, and come straight back,' Margaret commanded.

Jane hesitantly went back to Margaret, with some idea of convincing her she needed to go home.

'You're a dirty slut. What are you?' Margaret asked, at last breaking the deadly silence.

'I'm your maid, ma'am,' Jane defiantly answered. The fierce look she received was enough to curtail the momentary lapse. 

'Know your place, maid!' Margaret growled at her. 'I caught you with my son. It may not be illegal, but it's certainly immoral. Then you hoped into bed with one of my clients. Either you don't care, or you know what such behaviour means, well?' Margaret heavily demanded.

Not wanting to play Margaret's game, she nevertheless had to admit to something, from feeling so guilty. 

'Sorry ma'am. I'm a dirty slut, ma'am,' she quietly spoke. As though to shock the woman, she continued, 'I'm you're whore ma'am,' she said, using an accusing tone of voice. It was meant to remind the woman she had been tricked into bedding a stranger. Sleeping with him for Margaret, to gain business, made her a whore. That was the nastiest episode in this house, and nothing could be as bad as that.

'What did you say? Speak up slut,' Margaret demanded.

'I'm, I'm a, a whore, you're whore, ma'am,' she stated. This time it was with a voice laden with self-pity.

Margaret wondered what the stupid bitch was on about. Of course! She had manoeuvred Jane into having sex with Mathew. 

The fool served them dinner, dressed as a sexy maid, while she helped herself to wine. On finishing the bottle, Jane flirted with Mathew, and ran around after him like a besotted schoolgirl. All Margaret needed to do was push them together, and they both took advantage of the opportunity. The foolish woman felt guilty enough to call herself a whore, well, so be it!

'Yes! You are a whore. You're a dirty old whore. Certainly not good enough for my son. You are my whore, at my disposal,' Margaret ground in to her victim. 

She noticed Jane struggling for words, probably a protest, and a defence of some sort, maybe even a rebellion at last. 

Margaret jumped in, 'I'll have to work hard on my son to prevent him revealing that sordid episode in my bedroom. I don't want to imagine how badly you behaved with him. Not only that, there's your whoring, thieving, and lewdness at the party to keep quiet. You're a disgusting slut, like a bitch on heat.'

Jane cringed from how true those accusations were. It was vital everything she did here was kept secret, not for her sake, but for her daughters reputation. Of course she too wanted to keep her good standing in the community. Her life was in a state of flux. What evil act would she be forced to commit next? A tear dropped to the carpet. Not shed for the future, but from the knowledge that she had perversely enjoyed being bad.

Margaret had to keep the stupid woman under her thumb for a little longer. Part of the deal struck with Mathew, was another session with Jane. He was alluding to them both joining him for a dirty weekend. The contract would fire her business up to the next level, so it might be worth it. 

She looked at Jane, wondering what was going through the woman's head. She had come across at committee meetings as small minded and puritanical. "You can't build that here", the stupid woman had firmly stated. She had bullied the other committee members into supporting her. The plans had fallen through and she lost a healthy commission. Using the stupid woman as a whore to gain Mathews approval, would certainly count as retribution, but not make up for the loss of business. Such revenge couldn't have been imagined a few days ago! 

'Well! Maid! Don't just stand there daydreaming, my glass is empty!' Margaret shouted. 

Watching her maid scurry around for gin and tonic, then finding the ice bucket empty, was amusing. The expression of agony just because she had done something wrong, and was keeping her mistress waiting, was pitiful. Margaret kept a straight face until the maid left for the kitchen. She jammed a fist into her mouth to stifle a loud guffaw. It would be best to keep the maid thinking she was angry, rather than amused. 

'Where did you get that dress?' Margaret demanded to know.

'Sir, gave it to me, ma'am,' Jane apologetically answered. 

'I don't mind you playing dress up in my old clothes, but you should be wearing your uniform while serving me,' Margaret arrogantly informed her maid. 

She wondered what her son had been up to with her maid. She filed the question away for later.

'Yes, ma'am, sorry, ma'am,' Jane demurely replied. 

She hesitated running off to change, in case that too was the wrong thing to do. Margaret saw the woman's indecision and was again amused. She was a good judge of character, especially at finding a person's weaknesses, which was useful in business. This woman had presented a firm and stolid outward appearance, successfully hiding a broad streak of submissiveness in her character. It had certainly been revealed, with the right motivation.

'Are you going to stand there, or serve me dinner. Quickly before it gets cold,' Margaret complained.

Jane seemed to remember the bowl of soup in her hands and moved too quickly to place it on the table before her mistress. The tomato soup slopped over the table cloth, and dripped into Margaret's lap.

'You stupid, bitch!' Margaret yelped. It wasn't hot, but it suited her to make a fuss.

'Sorry, ma'am, I'll get a cloth,' Jane said, turning to run to the kitchen.

'Don't bother, stay right there,' Margaret scolded. 'You can pay for a new suit, you stupid bitch,' she grumbled, while wiping the dress with a serviette.

'Sorry, ma'am. Can I pay for the cleaning, I'm really short of money, now Louise is going to college,' Jane plaintively asked. 'I'm sure it's not permanently stained,' she added, when Margaret didn't say anything.

Margaret wondered if that were true. Could the stupid woman be that broke. Her husband had died in a plane crash. Whatever compensation she received wouldn't stretch far after paying off the mortgage, and sending her daughter to college. 

'I'll help out,' Margaret suggested. 

She looked at the maid, almost cowering before her. It was almost as if she wanted to be in this subservient role. She needed someone to tell her what to do, and there hadn't been anyone since her husband died. Margaret had to restrain herself from offering the stupid bitch money to sleep with a client. Making it obvious she was to be her whore was pressing things too far.

'You can work as my assistant. The job is yours, maid. What do you say?' Margaret asked.

'Thank you ma'am. I'm not sure what I could do to help. I haven't experience working. I was married straight from college. I guess, I'm just a housewife,' Jane humbly answered. 

'Don't worry, maid, I'll teach you. You start by carrying my brief case, and pretending to take notes,' she laughed.

'Yes, ma'am, if you say so,' Jane grudgingly acknowledged. Being at the she-devil's mercy in this house was one thing, but in public? How could she tolerate the humiliation?

'I need to go home to see to Louise, ma'am,' Jane quietly spoke. There was more hope than expectation in her voice.

After the last few days under threat of exposure and constant control, she no longer attempted to wriggle free. There seemed no way of escape, so whatever she was told to do, she would do. For some reason it was a relief to give in and not have to struggle to find the right thing to do. It seemed even her financial problems would be taken care of by Margaret. 

'You haven't been home, so what excuse did you use?' Margaret asked.

'Visiting a friend with marital problems, ma'am,' Jane explained. She had learnt to keep her answers short. It minimised mistakes, and kept her from rambling on like an idiot. 

'Phone her again, and say you won't be home till late,' Margaret ordered.

It wasn't right being told what to do by a neighbour. It was daunting how much more under her control she would become when working for the woman. 

'All arranged then? Good! We shall go shopping for your clothes. I do like shopping!' Margaret happily smiled. 

Jane was dreading the expedition. What would she say to friends they met while out with Margaret. She would feel such a fool, calling a neighbour ma'am, and cow-towing to her. Fortunately they drove to an out of town mall. It looked run down, but that suited Jane, as well-to-do friends wouldn't visit such a place.

'Please, ma'am!' Jane complained. 

Her plea was ignored. Jane was pulled from the dingy changing room to find another outfit. This time she was wearing a micro-mini skirt over a thong. She could feel the hem brushing her bare bottom, and was highly embarrassed. She kept her hands at her sides, holding the skirt down, afraid of revealing her bare bum. The threat of exposure left her feeling weak. 

The security guard was watching her, with a mixture of suspicion and lust. She looked away feeling small and vulnerable. Thankfully there weren't many people in the store, yet she felt every eye was upon her. Judging her, and thinking she was a mindless slut. Dressed like that at her age, showing herself off, must mean she was available. 

'Stop complaining, then I'll let you run and hide in the dressing room,' Margaret scolded her.

Having become subordinate to the woman left her feeling small an ineffectual. The only defence left was to behave herself, hoping not to be punished. 

'Yes, ma'am, thank you, ma'am,' Jane gushed.

It was sickening to sound so grateful to her tormentor for small mercies, yet the emotion was genuine. She had become thankful for every small comfort. Knowing they were incentives to submit, and obey the woman, didn't mean she could resist them. Yielding to her in that house was bad enough, now she was being tested in public. Working for her would mean spending even more time under her control. There would be no escape from this abject state of submission, until she had been completely broken. 

Tears formed in her eyes as she scurried back to the changing room. It was nothing more than a ragged curtain pulled across a cubicle, the size of a restroom stall. Nevertheless it felt safer than being out there. 

Margaret watched her trotting away with long blond hair swaying down her back. She looked like sex on heels. The prissy tight assed woman had always kept it pinned up as though she were a school teacher or librarian. It was painful for her to be dressed so cheaply, yet there were small signs of excitement. The decision hadn't been hers to show off her body, so the responsibility for what happened could be negated. 

She glanced around the store and noticed a young guy intently staring at Jane. He craned his neck to watch every wiggle of her ass. Margaret smirked on seeing his girlfriend nudge him for attention. He would have to be careful over his comment on her new dress. The old security guard was interested too. There was a wistful look in his eyes.

Of course she couldn't dress her maid up so overtly for business meetings. The message would be too obvious. This exhibition was designed to keep her at heel. It didn't take much, for she was a natural submissive. 

'Who would have guessed it?' she murmured to herself. 

A couple more outfits were selected before returning to her maid. They were cheap and nasty, yet the voluptuous woman could get away with them in the bedroom. Men were easily pleased. Having a sexy assistant to distract customers would be useful, and it would enable her to keep a tighter control over the stupid woman. She hadn't thought to keep her as a submissive maid, but it had become such fun, and useful too. 

They moved on to a more up market store. It didn't mean much in that shabby mall. The business skirt was short enough for Margaret's intentions. It was high enough quality to give the impression her assistant was trying to make the most of a small budget. The stupid woman was even pleased to wear it, even though it was a fraction of the cost of her usual business attire. 

Her new assistant had been well off while her husband had been alive. She wore an expensive business suit, even though merely attending committee meetings. Margaret thought the woman had once held a position in some corporation, the way she behaved in those ruinous planning meetings. 

Jane was smoothing down the skirt, looking pleased with it, never minding it was cheap. She gave Margaret a look of gratitude, content to be free of the awful skimpy clothes.

***

Although the high stiletto heels looked incongruous in a cheap maids coverall, it gave Jane time to learn how to walk in them. She hadn't gone home that night, having to explain to Louise she was preparing for a meeting with the boss. A new job meant she could afford to pay for her daughters tuition fees. Louise was surprised, yet could hardly complain, though she tried. 

In her room at Margaret's house she looked in the dressing table mirror, with Margaret looking her over.

'It's no good. Less make up, and a different shade of red lipstick,' Margaret pointed out. The look, she decided, had to be subtle. 

'Put on the clothes,' she ordered, once satisfied with the look. 

Pulling up the stockings she attached them to the suspender belts. The bra pushed her breasts up into a deep cleavage. Jane wished the bra and panties covered more, but at least they wouldn't be noticeable, like the swell of her breasts. 

Margaret noted how slim her assistants waist was, which emphasised the breasts. The image was certainly going to be an advantage when males were signing contracts. 

'Let me zip you up,' Margaret said. 

The skirt was tight, showing off her curves. She had a cute bottom, with a sensuous wiggle in high heels. How had all this been so effectively covered up before? The woman was sexy, even in a business suit. The skirt was slightly shorter than her own, but not outrageously so. 




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 02



Margaret had always power-dressed. "Dressed to kill", she always told herself before a meeting. She looked good, sexy, though in a dark haired and sophisticated fashion, compared to Jane. Jane had a look of innocence. A blond bombshell, yet managing to look naive. Well she was, or had been up until Margaret took charge of her.

'Stand up straight, chest out, stand proud,' Margaret exhorted. 'Men will find you attractive. They won't be able to keep their eyes off you. They will be enthralled by you, fascinated, wanting to know you, worship you,' Margaret purred in her ear.

Margaret was satisfied to see her assistant's reaction. Jane took a deep breath and straightened her back. Her breasts were thrust out further. Her whole stance had shifted, with body language declaring she was ready. The outline of hardening nipples was revealed through the thin white blouse. 

Margaret smiled with satisfaction at the result. It was little surprise that the stupid woman responded to the new look. A little of this wanton attitude might last till they walked in to a prospects office. 

Margaret was right. Jane began to physically wilt as they drove to the first meeting. As usual they were ushered into Jim's office as soon as they arrived. He was a no-nonsense kind of guy. He had worked his way up through the hierarchy of the organisation, right from the bottom. It was lucky for Margaret the contract fee wasn't from his own pocket, otherwise even her charms would have made it hard to loosen his signing hand. He was tight fisted, and enjoyed the banter, though gave way to her eventually.

After introducing Jim to her new assistant, he continued eyeing her up. Jane fumbled over opening the brief case, but made a good job of pretending to take notes. Under the glass topped table her long legs fidgeted in concentration and nervousness. As instructed, she neglected to notice the skirt riding up her thighs. As though concentrating on her shorthand, her thighs parted slightly. 

Jim was astute enough to guess why Jane was here, yet he wasn't immune to the sight of stocking tops. He looked disappointed when she volunteered to fetch the coffee. A hesitant move to squeeze past her boss, received a warning look, and a slight movement of the head from Margaret. He was looking up at the overhanging breasts so didn't notice.

She instead retreated around Jim's side of the table. He moved his chair back against the wall, to give her room. She hummed and murmured thanks, while squeezing between him and the table. He was tempted to slap the tightly clad ass, as it wriggled past him. Instead, he gave Margaret an open smile and a wink. She conspiratorially smirked back at him.

'She'll learn!' Margaret said, with a shrug. 

'Certainly, if she stays with you,'' he gruffly chuckled. 

'She has no choice. I've taken her on as a favour. She's short of money, so has to do as she's told,' Margaret explained.

Jim looked at her for a moment. 'What's it going to cost me this time?' he asked, with a sigh. 

'Don't be like that. I'm bringing you in extra business. You make a profit from it don't you, so don't begrudge me a percentage,' she told him. 

He shrugged. After all, it was true. It was better doing business with her, rather than some stuck up college kid in a big corporate office. Margaret had built her consultancy up from nothing, so he appreciated her approach for what it was. He enjoyed flirting with her, but business was business. 

'Same terms as before. No, it's a renewal not new business, so your expenses should be less, not more. I bet you've got the contract sown up with them,' he said, giving her a look to say he was serious.

Jane returned, which halted the negotiation while he watched her squeeze around the table. He had been miffed to be relegated to this small room while a staff meeting was held in the larger board room. Not so now. She looked uncertain how to balance two coffee's back to her seat. It was too simple putting them down first. As she was about to squeeze past she realised what to do. 

'Your coffee, sir, hope I got it right,' she humbly spoke. 'Your coffee ma'am.' 

Having solved the balancing problem, she carefully manoeuvred past Jim. A stiletto stabbed his foot.

'Sorry, sir!' she exclaimed. 

Margaret figured she wasn't capable of conjuring such a mistake in retaliation for being put in this awkward position. The look of fright on her face was real.

Jane looked across the table at Margaret, hoping she wasn't in too much trouble. She turned her head to look at the man behind her, and fell back into his lap. Scrambling up, her other heel scraped his ankle. He cursed in pain, and pushed her off his lap onto the table. She landed bent over, ass up. When he pushed her up, the skirt rumpled up too. 

Jim opened his eyes and immediately forgot the pain. The heart shaped ass, rounded hips, tapering to a slim waist was a magnificent sight. Her shapely legs stretched out below, either side of his knees. The suspenders and stockings framed her luscious bottom. He wanted to grab a hold of those hips to drag her down onto his hardness.

'You might as well teach her to behave. Spank her, so she remembers not to attack my clients,' Margaret offhandedly suggested. 

He wasn't listening, seemingly in a world of his own, staring at her up-turned ass. His eyes focused on the strip of material tightly holding onto her crotch. Her suggestion either sank in, or he couldn't resist an inner urge.

He slapped a cheek. Jane looked at Margaret with lips tightly pressed together. She was unsure if she would be condemned for this outrageous behaviour, or this was a just punishment for stabbing a client with a stiletto. She whimpered from the next slap through clenched teeth. 

Margaret could see the man was enjoying it. He had moved a little to one side, to enable the swing. Jane groaned with the next slap. Then he started on the other cheek. Margaret definitely heard a moan this time. She would have to find out if the stupid woman was enjoying it! This would be something else to use against her.

The spanking consisted of three slap to each cheek. They reddened, but not bruised. Margaret produced some face cream from her bag. 

'Best sooth them with this. I need her to sit still at meetings,' Margaret said. 

'This will cost me,' Jim murmured. 

'An extra percent,' Margaret firmly demanded. 

Even she was disconcerted to be negotiating while he massaged cream into a woman's ass. Still, she was here to get a contract signed, and her assistant was here to help. She was certainly doing that!

On feeling fingertips soothing her sore bottom she tensed. She looked intently at her boss, yet didn't see the woman flinch. They were arguing over a business contract! She lay still, closed her eyes and tried to relax. She felt a thumb firmly press the cotton gusset of her panties. There wasn't much more to them, other than the strip of material between her legs. A finger nail scraped her lips. They continued talking business, while she was being fingered down there. 

Her eyes were tightly closed, though she couldn't escape their chatter, or his touch. A dreadful realisation hit her. She was already smouldering down there, and he was stoking her up! She dare not open her eyes, it would be so awful seeing her boss watching her being fingered. 

'Well that's it them, we're agreed,' Margaret announced. Even she was finding their erotic foreplay too much, and put enough meaning into her voice to put an end to it.

'Up you get, Jane,' Margaret ordered.

She struggled to her feet, and just stood beside him breathing heavily. 

'What do you say to Mr Fredrickson,' Margaret asked.

'Thank you sir, I, I, mean sorry, sir.' she stammered. 

In a daze, she stumbled to the chair and plonked her bottom onto it. Feeling her bare bottom on the rough material made her aware the skirt was still tucked up. She looked through the glass table top at her stocking tops, then looked up to see the two of them staring at her. Did that really just happen? Had she dreamt the awful scene?

'Don't fidget, just give me the contract. Those papers in the case,' Margaret demanded. 

Unable to adjust the skirt she ignored the unseemly display of thigh, and delved into the brief case. He was staring at her stocking tops, and suspender straps. He shook his head, as though clearing it of the delicious image, and signed the papers. 

On the way out of the office, Margaret turned to Jim. 'We can see ourselves out. You run along and sort this out,' she smiled, and patted the hardness in his trousers. He didn't look perturbed at all, as he gave her a big smile, and headed for the restroom.

Margaret strode up to the reception desk, with Jane dutifully clip clopping behind her. The receptionist gave her a big smile, asking how she could be of help. 

'Do you remember Gladys, Jims' secretary? Good! I need her home phone number. My assistant forgot to bring the address book,' Margaret explained with a broad smile. 

'Sure,' she chirruped. 'Oh! I'm not supposed to give out personal information,' the girl suddenly realised. She was torn between being helpful to the important woman, and sticking to the rules. 

Margaret leaned forward to glance at the computer screen, which was all it took to memorise the number. 'OK, honey. I'll phone Jim later.' 

They walked to the car in silence. Margaret wondered if she had guessed correctly why Gladys had left the corporation so suddenly. It would be useful to find out. 

Jane was wondering if she was in trouble for the lewd show during a business meeting. She had never held a job, but was sure that wasn't usual practice. Perhaps she should try the technique to gain a quick agreement at committee meetings. The ludicrous thought didn't make her laugh, she was too upset. 

They pulled up at lights and Margaret spoke. 'Who's been a naughty girl then?' she teased. 

'Sorry, ma'am, I didn't mean to,' she started, but couldn't continue. What could she say? That she didn't mean to step on a client's shoes, or explain why she became sexually excited on his desk? 

'Did you enjoy it?' Margaret asked, taking advantage of the woman's confusion. 

'Yes,' she whispered absently. 'No! Ma'am,' she protested.

'Show me then!' Margaret dared. 'Lift the skirt up!' she explained. 'Don't press them together, open up. Like you did for him,' she taunted. Reaching out to the woman's crotch, she found exactly what she was expecting. 'You're soaking wet!' she accused. 'The first honest word out of your mouth was, "Yes". So answer me honestly this time. Did you enjoy it?'

'Yes, ma'am,' Jane repentantly admitted. 'Sorry, ma'am,' she quietly added.

'It's alright, no harm done. You gained me a little extra in the contract, so I'll pay you for a good start as my assistant.'

A wane smile lit her face, from having pleased her boss. A few more miles passed, before she realised what she was being paid for. Her boss was giving her to clients for sexual favours. She had given party favours to guests when her husband entertained clients. Perhaps it would have saved him that last flight if she just bent over, and offered clients her private favours. In dismay she realised it was no longer private, more like a public utility!

At the next traffic stop she considered getting out and hoisting up the skirt. It might be a more honest way to earn Louise's tuition fees. Would friends and neighbours be able to tell what she had become? Would the men who pestered her after her husband died, turn up at her home, bend her over the sofa, then leave a payment. It might be preferable to the awkward conversations, and smutty innuendos about missing a husband

'We're here,' Margaret announced. 'No need to look so worried. You're here as eye candy, nothing more. You've earned your keep this morning,' Margaret generously explained. The excellent deal she negotiated with Jim was good enough, but another percentage point squeezed from Bernard would be nice.

The building maintenance contract was up for renewal, and all she had to do was get them to sign up. Jim's company would carry out the work, while she took a percentage from both of them, for arranging contracts. These deals kept her business going. The interesting money was organising large building projects. 

Gaining the planning consent to build a new tower in the centre of town, that was interesting money. Jane had quashed one deal. She wasn't going to stand in the way again. Rather, she was going to grease the wheels of government. Or maybe objectors would be brought around to agreeing, by greasing her up. Whatever they fancied, to gain their support, Jane was in no position to object. 

The powerful mood had Margaret almost skipping toward the office. 

***

'That's not acceptable young lady. We cannot accept business on that basis,' Bernard firmly stated, as he raised himself heavily from the behind the desk.

Margaret was confused. The meeting had been progressing well, until this unexpected harsh statement from Bernard..

'I'm sorry, Bernard,' she hesitantly spoke. Her mind was in a whirl. This was a disaster, and she didn't know why. He was moving toward the door, indicating the meeting was over.

'I could keep the contract at the same price as last year. I was just proposing a one percent increase, but if you think that's too much,' she exclaimed. Her voice had risen in volume and tone, almost shouting in panic, trying to recover the negotiations. 

'You were proposing a one percent increase to the contract?' he firmly asked.

'Oh, dear!' he said, while shaking his head.

'No! I Value your business. I need to keep the contact. I'll drop a percent if I have to,' she reluctantly said.

'No, no, that won't be necessary,' he said, looked bemused. He plonked himself down behind the desk. Rummaging around in a draw, he found a couple of batteries, and fiddled with a hearing aid.

'I'm dreadfully sorry, Margaret. I miss-heard you. I sincerely hope you will forgive an old fool. An increase will be acceptable, especially after, well, my misunderstanding. I should wear this damn thing all the time,' he smiled at her.

Margaret silently worked out why he had nearly thrown her out of the office. He thought she was offering him a bribe to renew the contract. For a moment a look of anger crossed her face. She suppressed it and gave him a big smile. 

'Of course, Bernard. I forgive you. You're not old, and certainly not a fool. Your still my favourite client,' she purred. Reaching across the desk, she patted his hand, and blew him a kiss.

'Now you are taking unfair advantage, young lady,' he chuckled.

'I thought the negotiations were over,' she shot back.

'Not quite. I thought you'd add another half, for me being so unkind,' he smiled.

'If you insist. You're a gentleman and absolute darling, Bernard,' she beamed an even bigger smile at him. A big smile lit his face, as they looked into each others' eyes.

'If I were ten years younger. . .' he said, leaving a proposition unfinished. 

'We need lunch, would you like to join us?' she asked.

'My pleasure, and for a change I'm buying, just to save confusion!' he joked.

***

Margaret walked into the lounge, kicked off her shoes, and flopped down onto the sofa. She looked up at her maid who wore an fractious expression. Knowing her well she realised the woman was disapproving of the way she had abandoned her shoes and was slumped, rather than sitting. 

'Don't stand there with such a disapproving look. Fetch me a drink, then you can massage my feet. Those pumps are too small, they kill me,' she complained.

Jane handed over a gin and tonic, watching her mistress swirl the ice. After such an eventful day she could do with a drink herself. She dare not ask. instead she helped pull her mistresses tights down, and peel them off. Placing the shoes to one side, she folded the tights neatly and laid them on top. Later she would clean the shoes and hand wash the tights. 

Getting onto her knees, she began to knead Margaret's left ankle with both hands. 'Shall I get some oil, ma'am?' she asked.

'Don't bother, just carry on, you're doing a wonderful job,' Margaret cooed. With her eyes closed she let her mind wander. 

Jane concentrated on the task in hand. While occupied it was easier to forget that she was a servant in this woman's house. Giving a massage was a calming occupation, for her and Margaret. An added bonus was that it put her mistress in a good mood. 

A final gentle pull on the toes, and she was finished, unless more was demanded.

'Very good, excellent!. I've been thinking about you staying over for a couple of days. You had best phone your daughter, and find out what she's up to. Tell her you have a job and need to prepare a presentation with your boss,' Margaret advised. 

Jane was pleased that her boss was in a good mood. The usually sarcastic woman even neglected to rub in her lowly status of maid. It was a little worrying that she had changed into the maids uniform without being told. She hoped it was a habit from wanting to protect the new business suit, rather than immersing herself in the role of maid. It was bad enough pretending to be this woman's maid, and so very demeaning to start thinking of herself as a lowly servant. 

To have succumbed to this demeaning position in the first place must mean she was weak willed. The thought stopped her in mid dial. Had she always been like this? Being married to a strong willed man all these years, had that affected her? If she had insisted with her parents to going the pill, she wouldn't have become pregnant. She could have gone on to university and carved out a career for herself. This stupid accident would never of happened. She wouldn't be here now, in this dire position.

'Hello, Louise,' she muttered.

'Where have you been? There's no food here, so I've been living on pizza, and delivery stuff,' Louise complained. 'When are you coming home, the house is a mess!' she added.

'Sorry dear. I'll be home as soon as I can. This new job, there's a lot to learn,' she explained. 

It was true, but not something she wanted her daughter to discover. As expected her daughter didn't want to hear about it. Louise was interested in when her mother would reappear, to look after her, and the house.

'I can't just yet, there's an important meeting coming up, and I must gen up on it,' she tried to explain.

'Well I'm not hanging around here for when you to decide to appear,' she petulantly stated. 'I've arranged to go to college early. They have prep-study courses. It will help get started,' she lied. A friend had invited her to a campus party. 

Jane felt relieved that the demanding girl would be out of the way. 

'I need money. You promised me,' Louise said, sounding more conciliatory, yet not meaning it.

'In my closet there's a shoe box, behind the tennis gear. I've set up a credit card for you. That should be enough for the first few months,' Jane told her. She was going to add something about budgeting, and being careful. 

'OK! Thanks mom, got to go!' Louise enthused, and put the phone down. 

Jane looked at the phone with a perplexed look on her face. They should have had a series of discussions before she left. Rules needed to be made, even if the girl didn't obey them, something needed to be said. This was all happening to quickly. Her husband had left her, now her baby had flown the nest.

'You look terrible. What's she done?' Margaret asked. 'Children are a pain from the moment you bring them into the world, and remain so,' Margaret joked, in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

'She's off to college. I don't know how I'm going to keep up all the payments. The car and house were straining the budget, now there's college,' Jane explained. She shrugged her shoulders, in way of explaining there wasn't anything to be done about it.




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 02



'I wish he would go. He's off in a couple of months. I admit, I'll miss him,' Margaret sighed. Both women looked into the distance, musing over the past.

'Maid!' Margaret sharply said. 'Get us both a drink, then sit down here with me,' she said, patting the sofa. Louise had done her a favour. With the daughter out of the way, she had full reign over the mother. 

Hearing the ice clinking she looked up. 'Thank you, maid. Now, sit here, and listen to me,' Margaret stated. She felt genuinely sorry for the woman. Going back to a big empty house, to face an ever growing stack of bills, knowing they couldn't be paid, was a dire prospect. She had been in a similar position a few months ago, but at least she had the skill to persuade clients and re-build her business. 

'You need to earn a salary, but don't have any useful skills, so what's to be done with you?' Margaret acknowledged the shrug and continued. 'You'll work here, as my maid and assistant when needed. Not much pay, but with food and lodging it will save you a lot. What do you say to that?' Margaret asked.

Jane knew she had little choice, except to accept the offer. It was practical but that wasn't the reason she was going along with it. No way would she have contemplated such a lowly position. The threat of blackmail hanging over her meant only one response was possible.

'Thank you, ma'am,' she said.

'You don't sound very enthusiastic. The least you can do is tell me you want the job!' Margaret demanded. 

Forced to accept the demeaning position was bad enough. Having to say she wanted the job was adding insult to injury. 

'Yes, ma'am, I want to be your maid, thank you for letting me be your maid,' Jane said, putting as much enthusiasm into it as possible. 

'Good! I'll look after you and make sure you don't get into any more trouble,' Margaret lifted her chin, and smiled at her. The doleful look was too much to resist. She wrapped her arms around her maid, and kissed her forehead.

'Don't worry, the bills will be paid, and Louise will do well at college. I'll be here to make sure you do the right thing,' Margaret told her, with genuine concern.

A glimmer of realisation enlightened Jane. She felt better for saying it out loud, and became that little bit more comfortable in her new role. Or, was it just resignation to the inevitable.

In the kitchen Jane busied herself preparing dinner. Although the grip upon her was tightening, she felt happy cooking a meal for three. It was like old settled times, regularly cooking a family meal. Instead of troubling herself with the boss's latest orders, she immersed herself in a familiar routine. 

As soon as Louise left for college, Jane would move into Margaret's house. It made financial sense to lease her home out to someone. Jane felt the shackles tightening about her body, securing her in this house. Under the scrutiny and control of her boss, she was becoming a manipulated object. The tormenting seemed to have stopped, so maybe, with better treatment, she might recover her composure and make a stand. 

Jane noticed there were only two place settings at the table. One had been put away, so she didn't bother to fetch her plate. Instead she stood by her boss, ready to serve them, becoming used to depending on instructions. Once again her menial position in this house was being rubbed in. 

'Maid, you can leave us now, we have things to discuss,' Margaret condescendingly spoke. 

Margaret bobbed her head in compliance, not giving a thought to its implications, and trotted off to the kitchen where she belonged. Feeling lonely, she sat to eat the meal. Later, she washed the dishes and tidied up. With chores completed, she quietly returned to her boss, to await further instructions. 

Margaret had expected the woman to regain her wits, after the initial shock over what had happened at the party. She was capable of finding some way to wriggle out from under the bolder with which Margaret had crushed her victim. Instead she had settled into being a dutiful maid. While away at a business meeting, the maid would need to be watched, and kept in place.



Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 03



The Son - Day One

'Mark, just sit there and keep quiet,' Margaret told her son. 

Jane walked in, looking reluctant to be in the same room as Mark. He leered at her, obviously enjoying the joke that his ex-girlfriend's mother had become their maid. So far he had refrained from telling anyone, despite the temptation.

'You will stay here and look after Mark while I'm away for a couple of days. You helped get the business deal off the ground, with Mathew, now I have to clinch it,' Margaret explained. Noticing the guilty look when Mathew's name was mentioned, she was tempted to tease the maid.

Jane got the message. She had slept with that business man, and now Margaret was going to pressurise Mathew into an advantageous deal. She looked at Mark, hoping he knew nothing about this latest immoral act. What could she say in defence? It was important to escape this house before being trapped into yet another terrible situation.

'I must get home, err, ma'am,' Jane stated. She was busy thinking of an excuse, and found a weak one. 'Louise needs help in packing for college,' Jane added.

'Nonsense, it's about time the girl learnt to look after herself. Boys, on the other hand, need watching. Otherwise they get into trouble, as you well know,' Margaret said, giving Jane a knowing look.

Jane blushed, and looked down at her feet, unable to acknowledge Mark was there. The she devil was referring to her son taking her. She was a mature and experienced woman, so how could she blame an eighteen year old for her sordid behaviour. 

'Mark has promised me to keep your immoral behaviour a secret. You know how young guys like to brag to their friends over conquests, and one night stands,' Margaret pointedly said. 

Jane had caught Mark watching her, as though she were a toy stolen away from him. It was a small comfort that his mother had forbidden him to play with her. She had been careful not to get too close to him, as she felt vulnerable from not wearing anything under the rough nylon coverall. The poppers holding it together only needed a sharp tug to part the garment, leaving her naked.

She had become susceptible to Margaret's influence, and wondered if it was specific to her, or generally true. If she became passive with Mark, she would be in trouble. This was another danger she was coming to terms with. No longer having the strength of will to defend herself, left her wide open to abuse. Testing herself with Mark wasn't something she looked forward to.

Jane tried again. 'I need to clean the house and pay the bills,' Jane said, in way of explanation to escape the house.

'I'll give you a promotion and pay you as my personal assistant. That will settle things to my liking,' Margaret chuckled. 

Seeing Jane was going to object, and that her stance was becoming more defiant, she felt the need to put the stupid woman in her place.

'I'm keeping quiet about your sordid behaviour, and paying you too. You can't possibly expect more than that, can you? Or, do you want me to put it around that you're a thief and a slut? Well?' Margaret angrily demanded.

'I guess so,' Jane mumbled. The harridan was determined to rub her nose in the stink of her stupid behaviour. 

'Mark will keep quiet, especially as you'll be looking after him while I'm away,' Margaret heavily stated. 'I'm sure you don't want the neighbours to find out. It would be devastating for Louise to go through the humiliation of such awful gossip. Just think what it would be like at college. You know how beastly students can be to each other,' Margaret said. 

Jane trembled at the thought of Louise finding out. 'Oh! Please don't, I'll do anything. . . ' Jane began, but couldn't finish. 

It was deeply embarrassing to plead so pathetically in front of Margaret's son. It was a mistake to reveal how desperate she was to keep them both quiet, but the prospect ahead rattled her already taught nerves. 

'So, that's settled then. You will stay here for a couple of days, and nights, to look after Mark as his maid,' Margaret said, with a sound of finality in her voice.

'Yes ma'am,' Jane sighed. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a look of glee on Mark's face. The idea of being this arrogant young man's maid was dreadful. About to protest again, she was cut off by Margaret.

'Mark! You will keep her dirty secrets to yourself. No blabbing to your friends, however close they are. A secret shared, is no longer a secret, understood?' Margaret demanded.

'Sure, mom, no problem,' he replied. 

He was still wondering what the hell was going on. He understood how bad it would be for Louise to find out he had screwed her mother. There was something else going on between his mother and Jane. Why was she agreeing to work as a maid? His mother was obviously blackmailing her, but still, he would have expected her to refuse.

'Pat attention Mark! You need to look after her, and make sure she behaves herself. Keep her here, and keep an eye on her,' Margaret instructed her son.

Seeing Jane capitulate to yet another humiliation, she added. 'Just obey him and keep him happy, as before,' Margaret instructed. 

Letting Mark play around with this woman, had to be tolerated. It would keep him from bragging to his friends about her, which would spoil her plans. Not only that, the stupid bitch had to be kept busy, and on a short leash. If she was allowed home, she might come to her senses and refuse to return.

Looking at her, it didn't seem likely. She had become submissive, and resigned to this new role in life. There was a little way to go yet, before trusting her not to wriggle free. The instructions she gave Mark should hammer home the woman's lowly status.

The harridan's orders burst Jane's protective, contemplative bubble. She was being spoken to, not him. "Obey him," the woman had said! Keep him happy, or he might let out her secrets. This was another alarming threat. "As before,"? Was that a reference to what happened in Margaret's bedroom, the night of the party? 

Margaret smiled on seeing a look of dread etched across Jane's face. At last the stupid woman realised what her duties entailed. Her whole body seemed to cave in on itself. She was still standing, yet looking crumpled with defeat and despair. 

Mark had listened to his mothers plan earlier, and, though sceptical, he agreed. Having Jane obey him was more than expected. Over the last few days he had watched her accept his mothers evermore undignified strictures. Would an adult woman really obey him? It was a very demeaning position for a neighbour to be in, so she was sure to refuse.

School was out, so he wanted to join his friends. Not that they had plans, except to just hang out together. The idea of babysitting Louise's mother made him smile, which he quickly wiped off his face when mom scowled at him.

Jane glanced at Mark. He was staring at her with a look of a feral cat, eyeing a canary. Obeying this arrogant young guy would be very uncomfortable. Of course, that previous awful episode in Margaret's bedroom wouldn't be repeated. Fending off a randy youth for the next two days, and nights, was going to be unpleasant.

'Margaret, I mean, ma'am, are you sure. Err, he's your son, I can't obey him, ma'am,' Jane began. 

She tried to find the right words to change Margaret's damning instructions. Surely Margaret didn't expect her to obey his every demand. It needed clarifying before his mother left home, and he started pestering her.

'You need watching, maid. You are already in enough trouble, so do as you're told! Obey Mark while I'm away,' she crossly ordered. 'Mark, if she disobeys you, punish her, understood?' Margaret said, brooking no nonsense.

'OK, mom, whatever you say,' he answered. 

As his mothers words sank in he realised the next couple of days would be fun. Ideas were plainly crossing his face, until he brought it back to neutral. He was trying to seem responsible, and ready to sensibly oversee their new maid. A grin kept breaking loose.

Turning to Jane, Margaret glared. 'Well?' 

'Yes, ma'am,' Jane reluctantly agreed. Another fierce glare had words tumbling from her lips. 'Thank you ma'am, for keeping my secret. I'll be a good maid for, Mark, while you're away,' she quietly said. 

'What do you say to Mark?' she demanded.

Afraid of the consequences if she angered her tormentor, she turned to Mark. With head bowed she said. 'I'll be a good maid, and do as I'm told, Sir,' she reluctantly said. There was a clear sound of defeat in her voice, clearly recognised, even by Jane.

Jane had suffered many indignities in this house, but this topped them all. Serving this selfish young guy, as a maid, would be demeaning. Even if she could avoid him most of the time, there was bound to be some close contact at meal times. Dressed as she was would be asking for trouble. 

'I've got work to do before the meeting. Take your maid away, and play,' Margaret said, dismissively.

Jane had no choice in following Mark, as he gripped her arm. Not thinking where she was going, it was a relief escaping the tormentor. In Margaret's presence she felt helplessly pathetic. Still in shock from this sudden twist to the nightmare, she found herself in his bedroom. The door closed, sounding like the bars of a cage ensnaring her. She pressed up against the door, flattening her bottom against it. More than ever she felt trapped. 

'Let's have a look at you,' he grinned. She looked bemused. He circled a finger, intending her to turn around. 'Slowly,' he suggested.

He was looking her over, as though she were a new toy. The coverall was too short, and too tight around the bust. It was clear she wore no underwear underneath. She felt vulnerable. His mothers words about obeying him, reverberated through her mind. He sat on the bed smiling, looking very pleased with himself. 

For a moment Jane considered laying down the rules, as she might while babysitting. If he was unhappy with her he might march her back to Margaret, for the rules to tightly bind her. It would be better to wait until his mother left, so he didn't have her to back him up. She must try to stand up for herself before he had a chance to take advantage. 

'I'm not standing for this, you should treat me with respect, Mark. I'm going to my room,' she said, trying to sound firm. 

'That's a good idea. You can change into something better than that cheap rag,' he sneered. 

She felt terrible when he mentioned it, as she had become used to the nasty nylon coverall. That it was this young guy deciding she should change into something else, made it worse. It was a relief that he let her leave the room. He followed her to the spare room that she thought of as hers. This was worrying. She watched him search through the wardrobe with the intention of deciding what she should wear.

Perhaps it would be better to put her foot down once his mother left the house. In the meantime she would play along, gain his confidence, then make a run for it.

He turned his head toward her, while sorting through the clothes. 'Get undressed then,' he casually said. He turned again to check on her. 'Well?' he threatened. 

'I'm your girlfriends mother, you can't do this, Mark, please!' she said, with a worried expression and quavering voice. 

'Just do as you're told and be quick about it,' he scolded her.

'But, Mark, please! I'm a mature woman, a widow, and a responsible person. You should be treating me with the respect I'm due, ' she complained.

'Stop your snivelling. You maybe old, but you're not responsible. The way you behaved at the party, dancing with those guys, you should be ashamed of yourself. You were almost having sex on the dance floor, right next to your daughter,' he shot back at her.

'Oh! God! I'm so sorry. It was all a mistake, I shouldn't have gone to the party.' Jane moaned. 

The thought of Louise being there, seeing her sordid performance with Trevor, Louise's classmate in high school, was appalling. Could she blame it on the alcohol when they began kissing passionately? His friend, whoever he was, took advantage of the moment to delve into her panties. There was no excuse for such immoral behaviour.

'Louis was disgusted with the girl making out on the dance floor. Fortunately not knowing it was you!' Mark said. He ground in the lie that her daughter had witnessed the dirty dance. 

'No! Please don't tell her,' Jane begged. It looked as though she would go on bended knees to him.

'You jumped into bed with that guy last night. I'm not sure I want you again, after him,' he sneered.

''It wasn't like that!' she tried to explain. Her throat sounded hoarse with fear. 

'If I have to rip that thing off you, mom won't be pleased,' he warned her.

His voice was raised and the mention of his mother raised the level of anxiety. Jane had nothing to say in her defence. She was prepared to do anything to keep him from telling Louise what happened that night, and last night too.

'Yes, Sir,' she bleakly responded. It had become an automatic response, and served her well.

Jane reluctantly popped open each press stud, one by one, slowly. She didn't want him reporting her to Margaret, to suffer a showy punishment for disobedience. It was somewhat reassuring he had his back to her. When he turned around, clutching an armful of clothes, her eyes were downcast with shame. She kept her thighs clamped tight, with arms closeting her breasts. 

'Try this on,' he casually said.

Grabbing the dress meant revealing a breast, though he hardly noticed, while concentrating on sorting through the clothes. At last it meant being decently covered, so she quickly pulled it over her head. Struggling into the tight dress was difficult. She was painfully aware that her breasts were on show, while her arms and head were trapped. Eventually he noticed her struggling.

'Keep still,' he scolded, as though she were a child. 

With both arms wrapped inside the dress, there was little to be done but accept his help. She felt vulnerable and embarrassed. He could see everything, and there wasn't much she could do to stop him manhandling her body. A strong hand gripped both wrists through the cotton, with the other easing the material over her shoulders.

'You have nice big nipples,' he said. 'Never noticed before,' he added.

A rude remark so casually delivered to a respectable woman, by a neighbours son, required a put-down. Instead she blushed. She trembled slightly, when recalling the last time he had been so close. She was bent over with him pounding her from behind, so of course he hadn't noticed her nipples. During that session he had squeezed her breasts and pinched the nipples mercilessly.

'I'm surprised how fit you look. Your usual drab clothes hide an interesting figure.' he said. 

He couldn't see her face, but could tell she lapped up the compliment. Only a few weeks ago he was dating her daughter, when such a comment would have earned him a slap, and been thrown out of the house. Now she was enjoying compliments about her naked body. She was no longer the prude he knew back then.

'Your waist is slim, and that emphasises your plump breasts. They're impressive. The way the nipples enlarge when your excited is fascinating,' he continued. 

She arched her back to lift them, not realising what she was doing.

'With your long hair down you look so much more attractive,' he teased, though she took it all in. 'In heels your legs look long and sensuous. Your body is curvy in all the right places, and so luscious, it's difficult to keep my hands off you,' he sighed.

The dress was too small, so he gave up, and pulled it free. With eyes wide she stared at him while he sorted through the pile of clothes. As a mature woman she shouldn't have been pleased because a young guy hadn't mauled her breasts, and had complimented her naked body. It was another sign of how far her self-respect had fallen. 

'This might fit,' he said.

Without looking at it closely, she quickly pulled the slacks up her legs. The material was a nasty stretchy fabric she wouldn't have never bought, but anything would do to cover her nakedness. Again it was a struggle. This time from the feet upwards. Jane wiggled her hips into the grip of the slacks. Slack they were not. 

Mark grabbed the waist band in two strong fists, and pulled her off her feet. It hadn't seemed possible to pull them up any further, yet they were now. Surely they shouldn't be gripping so tight between her cheeks! In front they were splitting her in two! 

'What do you think?' he asked. 

The image confronting her was awful. In the light tan jeggins, she appeared to be naked. They lewdly separated her lips, which were engorged. Up till then she hadn't realised her sex was opening up to him. It couldn't be dismissed as something happening without her participation. Responsibility had to be taken for her bodies reaction, and that was an uncomfortable thought.

On noticing both hands merely holding up her breasts, she quickly covered the nipples more demurely. He held up a matching top, which she took while averting her eyes from him. His possessive expression made her feel even more like a plaything.

The top was as stretchy and tight as the slacks. When she took a step back from the mirror she felt the bottoms pulling up into her crotch. There was hardly anything to the top. It held her breasts firmly, showing them off. The nipples too were clearly on display, protruding through the thin fabric. She was mesmerised by the mirror image. It wasn't her, it was a tramp.

'You look ready for a disco,' he chuckled. He couldn't help teasing her, though his mother would have a fit if they left the house.

The look of consternation on her face turned to fright. 

'Please, Sir,' she began, not knowing what to say. 'Please don't take me out looking like this. What will friends think if they see me dressed like a, a tart? You're friends might tell Louse!' she whined. Her tummy rippled as though she might vomit. He was large and powerful, strong enough to force her to go with him.

He gripped her chin, laughing at her. 'I'm sure you'd like to dance with some of my friends,' he said. 

'No! Please, let's stay in. I'm supposed to be your maid. I'll be a good maid, and do as I'm told, honest,' she babbled. Only half understanding what she was promising, she nevertheless meant it.

'That's more like it. Do as you're told and we can stay here. It's pretty nasty isn't it. Better try something else,' he smiled. 

She peeled off the top and bottoms, as quickly as possible, in-case he changed his mind. It was preferable being naked, rather than face leaving the house in that obscene outfit. 

He didn't throw it on the reject pile, which worried her. Handed a corset, she held it in front of her as though it were a shield. He expected her to try it on without objections. After all, she was there to obey him. With the threat of exposure to ridicule, and the menace of his mother's disapproval, there was no choice. She had to simply get on with the humiliating game.

The corset cinched her waist tighter, as he pulled on the fastenings at the back. Her breasts were pushed up into a deep cleavage, balancing precariously on nothing more than half cups. They threatened to overflow. The dangling straps were hooked to sheer black stockings, which he had to pull up her legs, for she couldn't bend. 

The feel of his hands fiddling with the garter straps digging into her thighs, was electric. Already aroused, she became wet from his touch. Of course he noticed, but to her relief, he made no comment. The unwanted excitement was a worrying testament to a loss of control. Abandoning sensibilities could be put down to the pressure she was under. It was all her fault, everything, even leaving herself open to blackmail. 

Jane dare not look down, for her breasts were a bawdy display. She looked away from him, not wanting to see the expression of condemnation on his face. 




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 03



'Nice. You're breasts look so nice and soft in the corset,' he commented. 

There was neither a leer on his face, nor condemnation in his tone of voice. It was merely an observation. It left her feeling all the more like a mere toy, playing dress-up. It was both frustrating and galling, from being turned on while he casually played with her. He said she was a beautiful woman, either completely naked, or dressed sexily for his benefit. Yet he seemed indifferent to her charms. 

In a momentary loss of control, she raised her shoulders to push her breasts out at him. Was the movement designed to provoke him, and disturb this maddening indifference to her as a person? Feeling shameful, there was no denying it was to gain his attention. The conceited young man was working her up, and treating her like a plaything. It was galling to think she was there for his amusement. It wouldn't have been so bad if she had to fend him off. It would improve her self-esteem, and resisting him would be a clear moral stance.

'I guess you'll need a pair of panties to go out to a club,'' he smiled.

She felt too awful to respond to the weak joke. She sighed heavily, wobbling the corset held breasts. He offered up a pair of panties, then remembered she couldn't bend to put them on. She felt helpless in the corset. Though the physical control was less than the mental control she was under between the two of them. Her sense of decency was completely out of control. It was as though her moral restraint had been handed over to Margaret, and now him. She was leaving them to decide her standard of behaviour, and that was indecently low.

Feeling his hands pulling the panties up her legs, manoeuvring them up her thighs, with his fingers brushing her most private place, was thrilling. A knuckle brushed over her wet lips when he adjusted the gusset. An intake of breath, with eyes firmly shutting, revealed a high state of sensitivity. 

The panties were sheer enough to show her cheeks. In front there was enough decoration to hide her pussy, though not all the wisps of blond hair. What kind of club would allow entry, dressed like this? It was possible to travel there wearing a coat, but once inside, what then?

'Stand with legs apart,' he ordered. 

For a moment she thought it a reprimand, because she had been caught squeezing her thighs together. Unconsciously she had been rubbing them together for some small relief. Her face burned as though on fire, from being caught performing such a lascivious act. He was a neighbours son, she reminded herself. It did no good. She was heated up, and there was no relief in sight.

She glanced at his crotch, but there was no telltale sign that he was interested in her naked body. To the contrary, he was decorating her, yet still she wasn't good enough.

With feet apart, she bent her knees. It was then she observed in the mirror what he meant. The panties were split at the crotch. There was no gusset in them! Just a gaping hole revealing her wet lips. She slapped her thighs together, disgusted with herself for so lewd a display.

'You'll have to remember to keep your legs together,' he unkindly laughed. 'A bit of a problem for you, I heard the other night,' he sarcastically added.

She wondered what he meant. It took a moment or two, to connect the harsh remark with last night. The thought slammed her belly like a punch, knocking the wind from her. Was it only a few hours ago that she was in bed with a stranger? Mark had heard her wanton session with that businessman! Surely he wasn't jealous. Was he trying to tease and punish her for last nights' immoral act? 

A shock of guilt spread throughout her body, like a tidal wave. It didn't cleanse her, it just brought to the surface the debris of her life. All the bad things she had ever thought and done, flew through her mind. 

'I'm sorry, Sir,' Jane mumbled. 

She wasn't apologizing to him, or for last nights' debauchery. She was apologizing for all the mistakes she had made in her life. She felt utterly flat, without a shred of self-worth. It shouldn't have been like that, but all the stupid mistakes over the last days had suddenly caught up, and swamped her mind.

'I shouldn't be here, like this. I shouldn't be here at all. I must go home. Please let me go. I'm trapped between you and your mother, doing terrible things. I can't think straight here. Haven't I been punished enough?' she complained.

'Are you blaming me and my mother for your mistakes? More like lewd and dishonest behaviour! It's your decision. Go on, get out!' he shouted at her.

She reached for the door, wanting to be free. Needing to escape the madness that had overcome her. At the front door she was confronted by a full length mirror. 

'Oh! God!' she gasped. 

It would be impossible to walk down the street with everything on show. As far as she was concerned her good standing could be shattered, but she had Louise to think about. It might have been an excuse for avoiding the shame over her bad behaviour. Nevertheless, it was true, her daughter would suffer.

With head bowed she returned to her room. Mark was putting away the pile of clothes. He was better at it than her daughter, as he folded everything neatly, whereas she tended to drop everything on the floor.

'Sorry. Can we start again?' she timidly asked.

'It's up to you. You're the one, well, you know. No need to go on about it,' he shrugged. 

'I should do that,' she offered. 

'OK. I'm going to the office. Bring me coffee, maid,' he said.

He sounded less harsh, more understanding. Maybe she had won him round after all.

'Yes, Sir,' Jane diffidently answered. There was still a long way to go before she recovered her self-esteem. 

In the office she carefully placed a coffee mug on a coaster. She stood waiting for him to take notice of her. She wanted to gain his friendship, so that he would treat her right.

'What are you doing?' she asked, feigning interest. 

'Just figures. I'd rather do this to help mom, than go to university,' he said.

She thought he sounded like a normal teenager at last. 'I didn't get a chance to go, and miss the opportunity. It's not all work, it can be fun too, with people of your own age, sharing things,' she said, not sure where to go with the advice.

'Why didn't you go?' he asked.

She could see he was looking for a reason not to go. 'I had Louise,' she wanly smiled.

'You must have been ever so young,' he stated.

'Thank you for the compliment,' she smiled.

'I was too young. It shaped the rest of my life. Don't get any ideas about getting out of going to college, by becoming pregnant,' she warned. 

He was about to scold her for talking to him as though he were a kid, then burst out laughing. 

'I don't mind trying,' he smirked. It was a pleasant chiding kind of expression compared to his usual disdainful look. 

'Would you rather do that, than go to university? It looks complicated,' she said.

'I'm good at figures. She says I get it from Dad,' he quietly spoke. 'What have you done, since not going to college?' he asked.

'I've been a housewife, looking after a family,' she told him. 

'An experienced maid then,' he pointed out, with a wry grin.

'I've often thought so,' she smiled. 'Did your father go?' she asked, keen on changing the subject.

'Business school. Not that it did him much good. He broke the business, then ran off with his secretary. Mom worked hard to rebuild it, while bringing me up. She built the business by regaining a reputation my father lost,' he said. 

There was a look of admiration on his face that Jane found understandable. 'She's a strong woman,' Jane said, trying not to sound bitter.

'She's tough because she had to be,' he retorted. 

'Yes, it's a tough world out there,' she said, sounding as though she wanted to add, 'in here too'.

'I thought women were supposed to stick together, and help each other. You made it tougher for her,' he accused her.

'Me? What did I do?' she asked, with surprise raising her voice.

'You nearly broke the business. She had to lay off two staff. She hated that. Don't you realise what you did? You blocked planning permission for that new development,' he angrily growled at her. 

She wanted to protest, but the words were lost as he grabbed an arm. With flailing of limbs, she was trying not to fall. It was bewildering to find herself looking at the carpet, stretched over his knees He had a heavy hand on her back, pinning her across his lap. Gasping for breath in the tight corset, she stopped struggling. 

'Keep still,' he ordered unnecessarily. 

She knew why he was angry, and in his mind it was well deserved. His mother had given him permission to punish her, so there was nothing stopping him.

Jane gasped on feeling and hearing a swat to her bare bottom. The smack was loud and stinging.

'Please, Sir,' she yelped. 

Calling him 'Sir', had been an automatic response. Her mind was in a whirl of confusion. How could she be in this position? It wasn't right being pulled over Margaret's son's lap, and spanked! It wasn't right, but it was happening. She was being punished for something she did to his mother some time ago. She vaguely remembered it, but now she was suffering for it.

'Please, Sir, please don't hurt me,' she whined. He wasn't hurting anything but her pride. 

'I'll hurt you if you don't lie still,' he demanded, and whacked a cheek with the flat of his hand. The sting was less than the cracking sound suggested. Once over his lap the anger faltered, with the first slap extinguishing it. His mother had told him to find an excuse to punish her, and this he was doing. 

The fifth slap demanded another to even up the strokes to each cheek. Her ass was a little red, though not sore looking. Ignorance of the consequences, of what to her had been a casual decision, angered him. He hadn't the vindictiveness left, after so many months, to really hurt her. 

Mark figured his mother was getting back at the woman, because of that incident. There was more though. There something wrong with the woman to be suffering this nasty treatment. When he visited her daughter she hadn't been very friendly, but never rude. He thought she was just another stuck up bitch, typical of the women living in the neighbourhood. 

Feeling her begin to squirm again, he warned her, 'Hold still bitch! I'm thinking about what to do with you,' he calmly stated.

It was appalling suffering this indignity. She just wanted to slide off his lap, and run away, though not in those heels. She was prepared to humble herself by crawling away on hands and knees, as soon as she was free of this disgraceful position. She was ready to beg him to let her go if necessary. She felt another slap to her upturned bottom, and went limp over his lap.

'Spread your thighs,' he told her.

Another slap had her obeying the lewd demand. Knowing this callous young man had a close up view of her private place was awful.

'I thought so. You're wet!' he stated, while marvelling at the sight of a pair of engorged lips. With little experience, he found it fascinating to watch them flower.

Now he mentioned it, she became aware of an arousal, and felt full of shame. She quickly clamped her thighs together, but forced them apart when he slapped her bottom hard. The disgrace of him seeing her sex was heaped upon the shame of being wet down there. How could she be so vile as to be stimulated from a spanking?

'Please, Sir, let me cover myself, please!' she begged. 

'I want to watch. It's growing. It's like a flower opening up,' he said, in fascination.

She shuddered in reaction to his touch. To her astonishment it wasn't from revulsion, but from excitement. Her whole body ached to be touched. She wanted him to touch her down there! A low moan hissed between her lips as he ran a finger over her swollen bud. He pressed it! It felt like a bell had rung in her mind, summoning, demanding her attention.

It didn't matter that it was him fingering her, she just needed it, and needed so much more. A hand gripped a breast hanging below. He pulled it and squeezed it roughly. His fingers ensnared a nipple and gently pulled the sensitive orb. All the while a hand wrapped her sex, then fingers rubbed between engorged lips. She became blissfully unaware of where she was, on becoming super-sensitive to every touch.

'You're such a slut!' he casually commented. 

He watched her squirming with pleasure, no longer trying to get away. She was lifting her hips and opening her thighs to get more of his fingers.

'What are you, Mrs Marshal?' he demanded, in a loud voice to gain her attention.

'I'm your maid, Sir,' she whispered. Her voice sounded breathy and drawn.

'You're a sexy slut, Mrs. Marshal,' he said. 

He didn't realise he had her full attention, and was guiding her thoughts. Already used to giving in to his mother, she had given in to the son. This was a different incentive. She needed him.

'I'm a sexy slut! Please! Make me cum,' she wailed. 

Her body was on fire, needing desperately to orgasm. Her whole being concentrated on his hands and fingers, trapped in a world of pleasure. She gasped great mouthfuls of air, straining in the confines of the corset.

'Not yet, later,' he chortled. 

'Please, Sir!' she implored him.

It was perfect having this woman at his mercy. He realised how strong it made him feel, being in control of a snooty neighbour. He slapped her ass, and eased her to the floor. She was still out of it, so he shoved the quivering heap of flesh under the desk. 

'Please!' she anxiously whined, on realising he was abandoning her.

'Me first,' he told her.

'Please, Sir! I'll be your dirty slut, anything you want! I'm a bitch in heat! Please!' she begged.

He lifted her head into his lap, and manoeuvred his cock between a pair of perfectly formed pouting lips. They were a perfect fit, as though made for his cock. Without an instruction, she sucked him deeper into her mouth, as though it were in the place she badly needed it.

'Suck it good, and I'll think about making you cum,' he told her. 

She only ever had sex with her husband until recently. She certainly had never experienced this obscene act. This was beneath her dignity, yet being so het up, even this was somewhat satisfying.

At first there was no way he could concentrate on figures. He tried to distract himself from the delightful sensation she was creating over his hard cock. Why had she sunk into this pathetic state? Did it have something to do with what his mother was doing to her? She said the woman was a slut without knowing it. Covering it up, by behaving so prim and proper, and condemning anyone else who behaved below her high standards. Just look at the bitch now!

He stared between his legs at her, sucking madly on his cock. Her eyes flickered up to meet his gaze. There was a pleading look in the wide open eyes. He wasn't sure if it was a plea to be let go, or finish what he had started. He'd never had a blow job before, and the sensations were too much. Especially watching her do it. Her cheek bulged out with every forward push of her head. 

In a great gush he suddenly cum. He lifted his hips, shoving his stiff member deep into her mouth, causing her to choke. He didn't care about that. He had his eyes closed and was gritting his teeth. She pulled back from his cock after choking. A last strand of goo spattered her face, and stuck there.

Jane gazed up at him with a pleading look. She didn't care about anything at all except pleasing him to get what she wanted. It hurt to abandon the last of her pride, but an overwhelming need had locked her into submitting to him. This too was felt to be bad, but she couldn't fight it.

Mark looked down at the woman, into a pair of wide expectant eyes. All that was missing was a leash between her teeth, and she would be a bitch waiting to be taken for a walk. Instead she was a sexed up bitch, waiting to be taken.

Jane felt ashamed of how visibly wanton she had become. It wasn't just him, it was all that had happened in this damn house, corrupting her beyond control. This young guy now had her panting for sex, and she couldn't hold back. His hand came down to a cheek, and she nuzzled it. She hadn't realised what he was doing until a finger slipped into her mouth and she tasted his sperm. As expected of her, she sucked his finger clean.

'Here,' he said, and patted his lap.

She eagerly scrabbled up, meaning to lie across his knees for more of the same. His arms wound around her pinched waist, to sit her on his lap. It was a good feeling to be tightly wrapped in a warm embrace. The cheeks of her bare bottom firmly clamped on his flaccid wet cock. She needed it hard and ready to pleasure her.

'You're my sexy bitch, aren't you?' he asked, quietly whispering in an ear. 

So worked up was she, his every touch was an intense, sensuous experience. The feel of his breath in her ear was electric. A hand was gently nursing a breast, tweaking a nipple. Fingers were fluttering over her thighs, closer and closer to her sex. Fingers pressed her distended bud, and tweaked it, causing her to moan fitfully.

'Yes!' she breathily responded.

'Tell me what you want, sexy slut,' he demanded.

He was so strong and demanding, with hands working her up so much, there was nothing she wouldn't say, or promise.

'Yes, Sir, I'm a sexy slut! I'm your sexy bitch. Your sexy bitch wants an orgasm, please, Sir!' she begged, not caring how much she debased her-self. Not realising she was speaking out loud, she added, 'I need your cock so bad, Sir,' Jane whispered, sounding desperate.

'Who would have thought, Mrs Marshal would be such a dirty bitch?' he laughed. 'Promise to be my bitch!' he demanded, affecting a street accent.

'Yes! Whatever you want. I'm your dirty bitch! Let me be your sexy, slutty bitch,' she whimpered. 

As the awful words left her mouth she cringed. It was impossible to summon the strength to resist the urges deep within her mind and body. They collaborated to defeat her morals, leaving her a helpless wreck. 

'Keep going and I'll let you cum,' he encouraged..'When I'm ready,' he added, with a dirty chuckle. 

She slid to the floor between his legs and backed up under the desk. She renewed the sucking of his cock, and this time fondled his balls. 

Now sated, Mark concentrated on the figures, preparing them for his mother's accountant. The sensation between his legs was nice, but the idea of a stuck-up neighbour licking and sucking him was terrific. She was starting to get the hang of it. She was gaining confidence, or was it desperation? He didn't care, so long as she knew her place. As his bitch, at his feet serving his pleasure.

Jane could feel her efforts rewarded. His flaccid cock was hardening, becoming once more a potent instrument of satisfaction. Eager to bring him fully erect, she tried to swallow it. Pushing her lips down his shaft, it hit the back of her throat, and she choked. Gripping tight with her lips, and using her tongue, she covered up the mistake. More cautiously this time, she tried again, managing not to gag, yet unable to swallow the head of his penis. 

'You can stop now, Mrs Marshal,' he chuckled. 

He heard and felt her failed efforts to deep throat him. The very idea that a mature woman, a neighbour, was trying her best to excite him for her own benefit was rousing. He looked at her under the desk, to see the woman's mouth bulging with cock. His cock! 

Her eyes flickered open and grew wide. It was difficult to interpret the expression with her face distorted. He beckoned to her with a crooked finger. When he moved back to let her out, she crawled over the carpet, yet not letting go of his cock. He laughed at the sight of the woman being pulled along by his cock. 




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 03



'So, you're now just an attachment to my cock, are you?' he asked.

Jane nearly let go of his penis to answer. Unable to reply to such a denigrating question she kept a hold of him. It was a disgraceful confirmation of his opinion, that she was merely an appendage to his cock. 

'You look like a bitch with a bone!' he laughed.

He pulled away from her mouth and move behind her. Taking hold of her hips, he thrust in. There was no need to ask, even if he thought to, as she was obviously ready and waiting. She lifted her head right back and wailed. The reaction stopped him for a moment, with his cock deeply imbedded in her body. He began to rock her back and forth with a steady piston like motion.

Jane had a sudden orgasm as soon as he entered her. Before there was a chance to recover, she began a longer journey to another, more satisfying orgasm. Feeling him pounding away with such strength was a delirious pleasure. The relentless humiliation freed all inhibitions, allowing her to become a complete slut.

'I'm nothing but a bitch in heat! Punish your dirty slut! Fuck your slut bitch hard!' she shouted at him.

Mark was taken aback by the explosive outburst, though his rhythm hardly faltered. Her exhortations for him to pound her harder inspired him. He wanted to hold back, to make it last, but soon reached the peak of no return. He thrust in hard, and held still, pumping sperm into her, seemingly for ever fixed in place, groaning gutturally.

As though joining in a chorus, she too vocalised a primal urge. Feeling his penis juddering she imagined feeling him spurting hot cum deep inside. The orgasm was long and hard, deeply satisfying. At last she had what she needed. Her body began to collapse like a deflating doll. She sank from hands and knees, flat onto the carpet, feeling its softness and depth, with every sensation heightened and exaggerated. 

He slid on top of her then rolled to her side. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight against his heaving chest. He muttered incoherent words, meaning so much to her, that tears squeezed from tightly closed eyes.

She cried. Big, silent tears. 

'Hey! It's all right, don't cry,' Mark comforted. His arms wrapped tightly about her bare shoulders, and he whispered soothingly in her ear. 

'I'm so bad. I've done awful things,' she bitterly complained.

'You're nice, you're beautiful,' he lamely said.

It was still early evening, yet they went upstairs to the bedroom. They lingered outside her room, talking over inconsequential things, avoiding mentioning what they had done, and especially its consequences.

'Turn around,' he said. 

She held onto the door frame while he unlaced the corset. Once more she was naked before him. Shyly she looked away, waiting for something, not sure what she wanted. He kissed her forehead, and when she looked up at him, he ever so gently kissed her lips. 

Her body was buzzing with anticipation. Her mind was torn between wanting him to hold her tight, yet knowing it was wrong to encourage him.

'Good night, sweet dreams,' he smiled, and dismissed her to her room.



Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 04



The Son - Day Two

Mark walked into her room and her heart started pounding. She wondered what calamity this new day would bring.

'Good morning, Mrs. Marshal,' he teased. 

The reminder that she was a mature woman, a mother, and a widow, heavily hit her. It was difficult to shake off a feeling of guilt, which clenched her stomach. Lying awake in bed her thoughts were dominated by yesterday's sessions with Mark. Enjoying sex with a neighbours son was appalling. 

Now the source of that illicit pleasure was boldly standing over her, filling her with the sense of being a bad girl. 

'Come on, get up, maid,' he said.

In trepidation she wriggled out from under the sheets, trying to delay the moment of exposing her naked body. He looked her over with a leer on his face. Nothing more could be expected from a self-centred teenager. Knowing he was going to spend the day crushing the last of her self esteem, was a horrendous thought.

She watched him pull another corset from the closet. It was a red bustier, designed to be wrapped around the waist. She turned around to let him tightly lace it. She tried to draw a breath to tell him it was too tight, but couldn't find a breath to speak. 

'I'll ease it off a little,' he said.

She was pleased he was at last thinking of her welfare. He had the right to treat her with contempt after she flagrantly gave herself to him. Instead, he was pleased with her. She hoped it was her, and not just the prospect of sex.

'I've had breakfast. Make yourself something, then clean the house, maid,' he said.

The light teasing voice was a welcome contrast to the previous condescending tones. It seemed she had won him around. So what was she to do with this hard earned success? If she dare leave, Margaret would take pleasure in spreading vicious gossip about her, throughout the neighbourhood. She hung her head in shame, for the gossip would be the truth.

'Yes, sir,' she demurely spoke. 

Watching him leave the room left her feeling lonely. She held his strong muscular frame in mind for a moment or two, imagining his arms wrapping her protectively. When the enchantment faded, she pulled on the cheap overall and made her way downstairs. Of course he didn't give her underwear, but it didn't matter, for she had become used to it. 

Jane walked through the house looking for something to do, to keep busy and keep her mind off things. The kitchen cupboards were organised, and the living room was in order. She tidied and cleaned the bedrooms while they weren't around. Not that Margaret or her son would notice if they were left untouched. 

Mark was in the study. It was difficult to keep away from him any longer, as it was break time. It occurred to her that she had become well trained, keeping to a time table of cleaning and meal times. Knowing she had been trained as a household maid was worrying. It left her feeling vulnerable, wondering what else she might be cajoled into doing, or had already absorbed.

Outside the door she hesitated, not knowing how to approach him. Quietly walking in, she placed a cup of coffee on the desk, and stood back, trying to be unobtrusive. All those dreadful things she had said to him, while he took her on this very floor, flashed through her mind. Why those nasty words had escaped her mouth, or even came to mind, was difficult to come to terms with. 

'Hello beautiful maid,' Mark smiled at her.

Jane bowed her head feeling embarrassed.

'You're wearing that dreadful thing again, why?' he asked.

'I'm a maid,' she offered as an explanation. 

It was more than that. She wanted to look like a maid, and nothing more. How could she stay there under these despicable conditions while pretending to be a normal, responsible person. It was easier to shrink into the role of a maid, negate all accountability, and shirk adult responsibilities. 

'You're my maid, so you wear what I say,' he firmly stated.

She wondered if he was going to spank her again for disobedience. The thought brought with it a sexual thrill. Excitement flowed through her body, and with it a small gasp of surprise escaped between her lips. She looked at him, and licked her lips. It reminded her she had applied make-up. The excuse had been that it was to cheer herself up, though now it seemed it was for him.

'Yes, sir,' she murmured.

'Don't forget, you are here to obey me, maid,' he heavily stated.

A demure smile crossed her face that she couldn't control. 

'Yes, sir, whatever you say, sir,' she readily agreed. 

The phrase was trotted out without thinking, though surprisingly, it was meant. She wanted to serve him! She tightly pressed her lips together, not wanting to reveal how deferential she had become. 

'Take it off,' he demanded.

Reluctantly she pulled the front open to reveal the bustier. Apart from the soft flat shoes, a waist snugly covered, nothing else was hidden from him. To be naked before him was strangely natural. He admired her body, leaving her feeling wanted.

He patted his lap, and said, 'Here.'

Like a lap dog, she eagerly jumped onto his knees, or rather, lowered herself. He wrapped his powerful arms about her, hugging her close. 

'I enjoyed making love, did you?' he asked.

Unable to look him in the eye, it was only just possible to acknowledge the fact. 'Yes,' she whispered.

'Is that all you have to say?' he teased. 

'I'm sorry. . .' she tried, and faltered, unable to say more.

'Sorry that we made love?' he asked, sounding annoyed, yet revealing amusement.

'I'm sorry for the nasty things I said,' Jane regretfully admitted. 

'Forget that, you were in the throes of an orgasm. Lots of people say things,' Mark said, as though he were a man of the world. 

Either his friends had mentioned it, or he read it somewhere. It was certainly a surprise when this puritan woman shouted out such foul language, and with so much feeling too.

'I've never been so bad before, only with you,' she said. 

'Not with your husband?' he asked, sounding curious.

She buried her head in his shoulder when he referred to Philip. It felt disloyal to mention his name while sitting on this young guy's lap, let alone talk about something so private.

'Well? Answer me obediently and truthfully, or you'll be spanked,' he stated, though didn't mean it.

'Never. I've never had multiple orgasms either,' she mistakenly said. 

The cat was out of the bag and he was reacting to her unbidden admission. He didn't say anything, it was the way he gripped her. She fidgeted, unable to escape the tight embrace, while waiting for a reaction. 

'Really! Why?' he asked, with a voice full of curiosity.

'I don't know. Something's happened to me,' she heavily sighed.

'That's easy to see. You're very different now,' he stated.

'How so?' she said. 

She latched onto the comment, from a need to understand what was happening to her. She held her breath waiting for an answer.

'You're different. Not just sexy. I mean, you're naked, sitting on my lap. No, it's more than that. You were, how can I put it?' he pondered.

She sat waiting for more, needing to understand, hoping he had a clue.

'You wouldn't have put up with any of this maid stuff. You were sensible and responsible,' he said.

'You mean boring, and staid,' she offered. 

'I thought you were strict, and determined to have your own way,' he said.

'Sometimes, maybe. I can't carry it through if someone strong stands up to me. Never could,' she confessed.

'So it's all bluff. My mother is very determined to get her own way, and will see things through to the end,' he stated.

Jane would have to agree, especially from experience over the last few days. He interrupted her thoughts by kissing a nipple, which turned to a hearty suck. She should tell him to stop, though the will to resist had long gone.

'How do you feel now?' he asked. 

When she didn't answer he kissed her lips. 'Stop that,' he told her, and playfully slapped a leg. 'Stop squeezing your thighs together, naughty girl,' he grinned.

'Sorry, sir,' she routinely said.

It was highly embarrassing, having him find she was reacting to his kisses by rubbing her thighs together.

'How do you feel right now?' he persisted. 

'Helpless, you're squeezing me tight,' she quickly answered.

'You're not answering the question,' he teased, and bit on a nipple.

'Fired up!' she admitted. 

'Sexy?' he enquired mischievously. 

'Yes! Very sexy,' she sighed.

'You really are a slut, aren't you,' he told her.

'Yes, I'm a sexy slut,' she whispered, as though trying on the phrase for size.

'You're my bitch, say it,' he demanded, and bit on a nipple again. 

He slid a hand between her legs, to find her wet and ready. Hearing her moan was satisfying.

'I'm your sexy bitch, your bitch in heat,' she groaned. 

Feeling his fingers teasing her, crushed all pretences. She really was his to do with as he wanted. She kissed his face, smothering it with her lips. She found his mouth and sucked his tongue into hers. The way her head moved back and forth, it was as though she were fucking herself on his tongue. 

Her head swayed giddy from the strength of emotion coursing through her mind. She hardly noticed him lay her on the floor. He stroked her body, telling her how wonderfully beautiful she was.

'I don't deserve you, I'm not worthy of you,' she spoke, with heartfelt emotion.

Castigating herself from guilt, was also meant to get him to say he needed her. She hardly heard his words, from being too wrapped up in her own shroud of shame.

'You want me,' he loudly repeated.

'I'm too old. I'm just an old slut, too old for you,' she objected. 

Feeling fingers explore between her legs concentrated a different emotion, distracting her away from self-pity. 

'You want sex,' he said.

'We mustn't!' she protested. 

Her words were feeble. Her voice belied her feelings, as it was thick with lust. 

She tried to move away from him, but he was too strong for her. She felt helpless, unable to resist him. It was excuse enough. His fingers probed deeper, and his tongue probed between her lips. She let him kiss her. She just lay there supine, hoping he would realise she wasn't responding. She was trying desperately to feel worthy of comfort, not wanting to feel lustful. 

She began to eagerly feed on his youthful strength. She no longer grieved over lost morals. His lips left hers to suck on a nipple. 

'Yes! I need you,' she moaned.

As though it was someone else's body, under someone else's control, her legs parted. Taking the slight movement as a signal, he moved on top of her.

'I'm just an old slut, you don't want me,' she breathed heavily.

'You're a beautiful sexy slut,' he groaned back at her. 

Instinctively he responded to her need for reassurance. Without a hesitation he thrust in. A hard cock confirmed she was desired, countering self-doubt, opening the way to pure lust.

'Tell me,' she pleaded. 

She dare not think about what she wanted him to say. Not the word love, though anything would help assuage the awful feeling of doubt.

'You're a naughty slut, you're all woman. You're fucking marvellous,' he groaned. 

He pushed with strong leg muscles, determined to complete what had been started. Not thinking about her, just reacting to his need.

'Yes! I'm a wicked, unworthy, slut,' she breathed out through clenched teeth.

'My fucking slut. My sexed up bitch,' he groaned, in time with each thrust.

'Faster! Pound my pussy. Punish my pussy for being so wicked!' she implored. 

'I'll fuck you're cunt hard, bitch! I'll teach you to whore in this house!' he shouted.

'Teach my whore's cunt a lesson. I'm a filthy whore, pound my cunt. Clean it out with your sperm. Please! Make me cum!' she begged.

With a fierce grunt, he thrust his cock hard into her. The veins on his forehead rippled with the effort. It felt as though he wanted to bury himself inside her. His cheeks were clenched, and leg muscles were taught with the strain. Her head was shoved against the desk. Her hips lifted, her neck strained back, and with mouth open wide, she yelped.

'OH! Yes! Keep still, don't move,' she implored him. 

Every judder of his cock sent an electric shock straight into her belly. She needed to feel his cock spurting cum deep inside. A confused idea that his virile, innocent cum, would wash away her sins of the last few days. 

She lay back panting, listening to his deep drawn breaths. The orgasmic exhilaration had her falling for him. This arrogant young man was her neighbours son, and had been her daughter's boyfriend. Opening her legs to him, and admitted she needed him, was a bad mistake. 

The post-orgasmic state brought with it a different feeling of need. One that was more difficult to shake off. She needed him to say he wanted her. She stroked his hair, admiring his body, unable to take her eyes off him. 

She was even more deeply indebted to this family. The mother or the son? Which of them had the biggest hold over her?

'Maid,' Mark pleasantly said.

'Yes, Sir,' Jane answered, with a giggle. 

He propped himself up on an elbow, looked her in the eye, and asked, 'Did you have multiple orgasms this time?' he asked.

When she turned away, looking embarrassed, he held her face still with a strong hand.

'You shouldn't ask me such a question,' she protested.

'You're just a household maid, no-one important,' he jested. 'You must obey me, so answer,' he said, with a big grin.

'Just the one, but it was long and deep,' she answered, and laughed from the pleasure of admitting it.

'Good. I'm supposed to look after my maid,' he smiled back at her.

'Yes, Sir, thank you sir,' she said, with a look of pleasure plastered across her face.

He gave her a cheeky grin, and told her. 'Tell me what you are thanking me for.'

She took a moment to summon the courage. 'Thank you sir, for the wonderful orgasm. Did your maid please, sir?' she asked, trying to tease him back.

'My maid is a wonderful sexy slut, and pleasures me to perfection,' he goaded her.

'Your maid is pleased, Sir,' she said.

'As much as I like looking at your beautiful body, you must get dressed,' he said, without making a move.

'As you wish, sir,' she said. 

They lay on the floor staring into each others' eyes, neither wanting to be the first to move.

'If you don't do as you are told, I'll have to spank you,' he warned. 

He playfully slapped her bottom, to back up his words.

She struggled up off the floor, but he held her back. Wrapping his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides, he kissed her lips. Sucking the top lip into his mouth, he nibbled it. She began kissing him back, until it was a duel of tongues. 

'Your lips are perfect, did you know that?' he asked.

'Perfect for what? she asked. 

She pouted to emphasis them. The bottom plump lip was drawn down, and with the top lip formed an "O" shape.

He drew a finger over her lips, and she bit it, then sucked it into her mouth.

'Perfect, for wrapping around my cock,' he said.

It was a shocking thing to say, and surprising that she laughed at the audacious remark. It was true though. Yesterday she had submitted to sucking him dry.

'What's wrong?' he asked, knowing full well he had said the wrong thing.

'I've become a dreadful slut. I don't know what's happened to me,' she quietly spoke.

He knew that, because it was so obvious, though he didn't want to confirm it. He tried to remember what his mother said, before she went away. Something about repression.

'You've been repressed for a long time. Now your sexual side has burst free, you're going wild,' he said, knowing that wasn't quite what his mother had said.

She looked at him, thinking about it. He was hoping she wouldn't ask how he knew, or challenged the truth of it, as he had nothing to base the idea on. He tried to sound like a man of the world, but of course he wasn't.

'Oh!' she said, still pondering over the idea.

'Do you think I've always been a slut, and just held it back? Will I always be like this?' she asked. 

She looked seriously concerned. 

'No, I don't think so. It's as though you've been hungry for a long time, and now you're feasting,' he offered. He could see by her expression that she had bought it.

'You had better keep your obedient maid well fed then,' she wanly smiled.

He put on his most commanding voice to say, 'Maid, feast on this.'

'Yes, Sir,' she managed to say, before he pushed her down onto his penis. 

His cock was limp, yet still large. She looked up at him, with its head between her lips. Her hand gripped it, and toyed with it. It was her turn to tease him. 

He looked at her wide blue eyes, surrounded by brilliant whites. Somehow she looked innocent, as though about to bite a banana. He lay still, not wanting to break the spell. He felt her tongue rippling over the end of his cock. It twitched. He was surprised, as it was so soon after he had cum.

He watched her draw it between her luscious lips. Slowly his cock disappeared into her mouth, between delicious red lips. Her hand moved down to his balls, and she began to gently massage them. She was working hard to get him ready, but didn't think she would be rewarded.

Realising it was useless, he flipped her over onto her back. He slapped her bottom hard.

'Maid, you are a naughty slut! I told you to get up and dress, yet you try to seduce your master,' he reprimanded her. 

Jane was confused. As lewd as sucking his cock was, she was enjoying it, probably because it was so naughty. After their talk, she found she could let herself go without worrying. Sucking his penis was proof of that.

'Sorry, sir, your maid will be obedient, honest, sir,' she yelped, from a second slap.

Mark had meant to be playful, but the slap had stung his hand, and her bottom too. A red hand mark was splayed across her right cheek. About to apologised he instead held back. Mom had warned him about loosening his grip on her. 

'Make sure you do as your told, maid,' he sternly told her.

'Yes, sir, sorry, sir,' she whispered. 

He stood up and dragged her off the floor. It was difficult to be hard with her after all that they had shared together, but it had to be done.

Jane stood before him quivering from the force of his voice, and his physical strength. She was trembling with sexual tension. She wanted to tell him she was pleased to be his obedient maid. Unable to express herself, not allowed to, she looked down in submission, the only message she could give him.

'Come,' he ordered.

Again he went through the closet selecting what she was to wear. This time she was pleased that he spent time and consideration over her. She clipped on the garter belt, and slid it around her hips into position. He slipped the stockings on her feet, and slid them up her legs, leaving her to clip them to the dangling straps.

From behind he was pulling at the laces of the red bustier, tightening it a little more. 

'Breath in,' he told her, and resumed pulling on the laces. 

'I can't. . . breath,' she managed to gasp.

'You'll get used to it,' he promised. 'Mom's orders,' he added.

Jane wondered what that was all about. It certainly didn't protect her body from him. Satisfied it was tight enough, he tied the laces in a bow. 

He patted her bare bottom, telling her, 'Nearly done.' 

While leaning on his shoulders, he lifted a foot to pull on a high heel. He held her shoulders this time, while she stabilised. She had become used to heels over the last few days, but these were higher and more precarious to walk in. The bustier held her upright, so she had to find a new balance. He helped her take a few steps around the room. The eight inch stilettos wobbled precariously, with her ankles threatening to give way. Her calves were stronger now, but the extra strain brought on cramp. 




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 04



On his knees he massaged her calves. 

'Thank you, sir,' she trotted out as usual. A great deal of emotion escaped into those words.

'Is that better?' he asked.

He was looking up at her with his head level with her sex. She was tempted to say no, just to feel his strong hands gripping her legs. As though it was an accident her knees buckled, pushing her pussy into his face.

'Sorry, sir,' she murmured.

He looked up at her with a devilish grin. His tongue was slowly pushed out, and even more slowly he leaned toward her crotch. It was obvious what he was going to do. She watched mesmerised as the inevitable unfolded. Her thighs parted, to stand in an awkward way.

She felt his tongue lick her lips. She threw her head back and mewed like an alley cat. His lips were firmly planted over hers with a strong suction. His tongue was marvellously deep. His tongue twirled around inside her, eliciting tremulous sensations that sparked nerves along her limbs.

A hand reached up to grip a breast. The other hand parted her cheeks to explore her anus. She didn't hear the pathetic whimpering noises gargling from her throat. Her body was collapsing, so he had to support her, by a breast, her bottom, and vagina. 

She was one heap of nerve endings, strung out, ready to explode. It took a moment or two to realise the source of the overpowering sensations had ceased. At the last moment he had pulled away, holding just her hands as she swayed precariously on the heels.

'Please! Sir!' she implored him.

'You started it and I ended it. Do as you are told, obey me bitch, right?' he heavily stated.

'Sorry, sir. Yes, sir,' she sighed.

With his hand holding hers she walked around the bedroom and out into the hall. Jane didn't worry for a moment that she was undressed, showing off her naughty bits - as she would have once called them. Feeling frustrated she pressed her thighs together, as she walked. It gave her hips an exaggerated weave, wriggling her bottom provocatively. 

'Stop doing that, dirty bitch,' he said, and playfully slapped her bare bottom.

In her room, she intently watched him pick up a black dress. A sense of delight was almost powerful enough to drown the sexual frustration. This was the first time over some days that she would be decently dressed.

She stood still for him to pull it over her body. It was slightly stretchy, and was a tight fit, even around the pinched waist. It had to be Margaret who bought these things, as the shoes and dress fitted perfectly. 

He watched her pulling and pushing her breasts up inside the dress. She was relieved to find them held in place. She would have been reticent over the explicit manoeuvring in front of anyone, though now she thought nothing of it in front of this young man. He had seen it all, so what did she have to hide? Certainly nothing in that dress. In a mirror she could see how thinly it stretched over her breasts, and felt how tightly it pulled around her cheeks. 

Margaret had definitely chosen this vulgar dress. Was it to humiliate her, or to excite her son. She was past caring about what she wore in front of him, and he didn't seem turned on by it. 

'You don't like it do you, sir?' she commented.

'It makes you look like a street walker. I prefer you to look what you are, Mrs Marshal,' he said, flashing her a look of amusement.

'So, what am I?' she persisted. He was reminding her she had been a married woman, and the mother of his ex-girlfriend, but let it pass. 

'A HILF,' he smiled. 

Taking in her blank look, he explained. 'A housewife I'd like to fuck. In fact, a housewife I loved fucking, and I'm going to fuck later,' he laughed.

She knew it was no boast. It was all true, he would be fucking her whenever he liked. Acknowledging it drove home that she had completely abandoned her morals. She was hardly able to escape home on these stilts, and didn't have the gumption to risk the dire reaction from his mother. So she had an excuse to stay and face the consequences.

The awful expression, HILF, was belittling and it fired her up. His statement of fact served to put her in her place, and she revelled in it. Being his sex toy shouldn't have been acceptable, but she was so driven by sexual desire, any normal reticence was forgotten.

'Yes sir, I'm your obedient maid, ready for you, sir,' she heavily breathed. She gave him a lingering look of need.

'Your my sexy bitch, keeping your pussy ready for me?' he asked. 

'Yes, Sir!' she eagerly offered. Her whole body felt hot with excitement.

'Later! As my maid, you should be getting me something to eat,' he said. 

He took her arm in a firm grip to guide her out of the room. Helping her down the stairs, she wondered if he had taken in what she said. She hoped he would satisfy her lust soon, for the need was so strong it dominated her thoughts. 

'You know where the kitchen is,' he dismissively spoke.

'What would you like, sir,' she asked.

'Surprise me,' he said, with a shrug of his shoulders.

Summarily dismissed, she wobbled off to the kitchen, trying not to fall off the high heels. Dare she remove them? The shoes were strapped to her ankles, so they couldn't be kicked off. The tightened corset meant it was impossible to bend over to reach them, and the lacings couldn't be reached. The get-up turned out to be an effective incarceration, for she couldn't walk off home, in what felt like stilts. She would be going nowhere quickly, and outside the house was off limits in the dress. 

Home was only a couple of blocks away, yet an infinite number of little steps. 

Of course she would stay and face whatever he had planned. It was hoped her satisfaction figured into whatever it was he wanted. Without hesitating she walked into the study, keen to be near him. Again he was looking through lines of figures on the computer, all of which looked complicated. 

'Sir?' she quietly spoke, not wishing to interrupt, needing his attention. She handed over the plate, hoping it would meet with his approval.

'Mmm! Good!' he said, through a mouthful of lasagne. 

She watched him shovelling it in, as though he hadn't eaten for a week. 

'I'm glad you're enjoying it, Sir,' she smiled.

'Mom's a terrible cook. You're a good maid. The place is clean and tidy, and the food is great,' he said. 

This time it was a genuine compliment, not teasing at all.

'Thank you, sir. I really want to please you, sir,' Jane smiled. 

After a moment the thought occurred that she wasn't a maid. She was a neighbour, coerced through blackmail into being a humble servant in their home. Even so, the pleasant feeling generated from his approval, was difficult to shake off. Maybe she could win him around by serving good food, and kindness.

He put the plate down, and reached for her. All her doubts vanished, with a renewal of the familiar sexual thrill from his touch.

'Be careful, sir, I don't want to stain the dress,' she lightly complained.

He pushed her off his knees to leave her stand before him. She immediately regretted the comment. 

'I didn't mean it!' she squawked. 

She handed him a serviette, keenly watching him wipe his mouth and hands. As soon as he dropped it on the plate, she jumped onto his knee. 

'Open your legs,' he whispered into an ear.

Even the breath of air in her sensitive ear was arousing. She hesitated performing such a lewd act. She was there to obey him, and dare not upset him, or his mother, so she must. When she parted her legs it was the incentive of a deep need, not to avoid blackmail.

She felt his hand cupping her sex and purred with contentment.

'You're wet,' he said.

Wondering if this was an accusation of disobedience or not, she tried to think how to react. 

'I'm keeping it ready for you, sir,' she explained. 

He casually rubbed her nipples, which were standing proud through the thin material. She mewed pathetically, and pursed her lips, attempting to entice him.

An impulsive movement and he was deeply kissing her. Fingers were playing with her down there. It felt as though he had taken her. She was more than ready if he decided to really screw her. Through the mist of a near orgasm, she moved her body closer, and lifted her hips. She was blatantly offering her sex, for him to play with.

He pushed her away, and lowered her to the floor. She looked up at him with imploring eyes, and with the full on little girl lost look. Anger and yearning alternatively rippled across her face. She wanted to thump the floor with both fists, to assuage the hurt generated from being rejected.

'Calm yourself, maid. I have too much work to spend time play with a simple serving girl.' Seeing the look of anguish on her face he relented. 'I'll make it up to you later, promise,' he said.

A calmness and satisfaction flowed over her, from his attention and the promise.

'Thank you, sir. Your humble maid really needs you,' she complained.

'I know,' he laughed, and pulled her up off the floor. Like a tortoise she couldn't right herself without help. The feeling of being helpless, and dependent upon him, brought a feeling of comfort. When he pulled her upright, she leaned forward, with pouting lips. 

'I need you, sir,' she murmured.

'I told you, maid, later. You can stand by me, while I work,' he grinned.

This concession was greeted with a some glimmer of hope. Knowing he was right, that she was acting like a silly serving girl, didn't help. The ridiculous behaviour couldn't be helped, she was out of control. She shuffled a little closer, gazing at her wonderful man. Swivelling a hip she nudged his hand. 

'Careful! Hell, you're a bitch in heat. You just can't control yourself, can you,' Mark stated, sounding slightly annoyed. 

Afraid he was going to send her away, she exclaimed, 'Sorry, sir, your naughty maid will try and behave herself, honest. Please don't send me away, I'll be quiet. Please!' she begged.

He made a huffing, exasperated sound, and turned back to the computer screen. Her face broke into a great big smile, and she nearly thanked him, only just keeping quiet. Without noticing it her hips were slightly swaying, from rubbing her thighs together. 

He exhaled noisily, freezing her still. ''I've got to get these invoices out, we need the money,' he explained. Seeing any request for peace would be lost on her, he ordered, 'Legs apart.'

On the high heels she shuffled her feet apart, knowing he was preventing her from rubbing her thighs together, and squeezing her lips. It should have been highly embarrassing to be found out by a young man. Instead, she simply found it frustrating to be denied even that small pleasure. She almost giggled out loud, from realising how naughty she had become.

Jane felt butterflies dancing against her legs. They fluttered up, then down, tickling sensitive places. She wanted to bend her knees, to drop her sex onto his fingers. He was right, she was a dreadful slut, and totally out of control. He continued clicking one-hand typing, giving her less than half his attention.

It was humiliating to be so shabbily treated. When his fingers alighted upon her sex, she closed her eyes and deeply sighed. All ideas of rejecting his touch were wiped away, as he wiped a finger between her lips.

A finger pressed against her asshole, with a thumb rubbing her clit. She couldn't stand it for much longer. Biting her lip to silence the usual sex noises was necessary. If he was interrupted from work, he might halt those amazing fingers. He thrust upward, penetrating her bottom, lifting her onto tiptoe.

A little whimper escaped between clenched teeth. She opened her mouth to breath, when it became noisy sucking air through nostrils. A finger entered the place she needed it, while the thumb continued to work her on-switch. She was so turned on the world began to close in, shrinking more and more, until all that existed was her sex and his fingers.

Mark pretended to work, letting her get on with it, or rather, get off. His fingers were aching, so it was with some relief she started to bounce up and down on the two fingers inside her. She was groaning loudly.

'Please, let me cum,' she whimpered. She did.

With a whoosh of an out-breath, all the tension seemed to rush from her throat. Her legs rattled with heels drumming the carpet. A low hysterical laugh started, and was immediately cut off. After awhile she calmed down, not before he had to brace her body from falling.

He brought her down onto his knees, and stroked her hair. 'Better?' he asked, as though she had been ill.

'Oh! Yes, sir, thank you sir, much better, wonderful! Thank you, sir. Thank you for giving your maid an orgasm,' she gushed. 

He presented his sticky fingers to her lips and she greedily licked them. Happily she sat in his embrace. One arm wrapped around her, while the free hand stroked her hair, then a breast, then somewhere else, until he seemed to have touched her everywhere. Her body was still supersensitive to his touch, adding to the awe-inspiring post-climatic dreaminess. 

'Enough! You must let me work, naughty maid,' he told her.

'Yes, sir, thank you, sir,' she automatically responded. 'Sir?' she said, needing to ask him something.

'Maid?' he responded.

'Does your naughty maid still get something special later,' she asked, with a look of longing on her face.

'Naughty maid doesn't deserve anything!' he scolded her. 'Though, dirty bitch, sexy slut, has been promised something. Which are you, maid?' he asked, trying to look serious.

'I'm sir's sexy slut, Sir!' she replied with enthusiasm. 

'You're a bitch on heat, is there no satisfying you?' he asked.

'No, sir,' she replied, thoughtfully. 

'Go away and do something useful,' he laughed.

In the kitchen she quickly gathered together the ingredients to prepare her lover a homemade burger. He would be ravenous later, after ravaging her. Waiting for the coffee to perk, she thought over what she had done, and how committed to his pleasure she had become. It was so demeaning, behaving like a wanton slut with an adolescent at her age. She had to admit it was wrong with anyone, at any age. The lower she fell the easier it became to be reckless, until her behaviour was now out of control. 

If she could escape this house she might regain some moral decency, but how could she go out like this? The dress was indecent, especially so without panties. The tiny steps in the high heels, was another excuse preventing escape. Of course, there were the dreadful secrets that would be revealed, if she didn't do as she was told. 

Jane cringed on remembering those dreadful words she used to describe herself. The more she thought about it, the more she realised how true it was, she was a bitch in heat. 

While married she had never experienced multiple orgasms, and only had experience of the one man in her life. It wasn't safe to be so smitten with this young callous boy, but couldn't resist the overwhelming lust. She had thrown away all restraint, and continued to be mesmerised by his ability to excite her beyond anything experienced.

The idea of being so wanton, becoming so carried away from being humiliated, was abhorrent. What could she do to resist these urges? All these thoughts raced through her mind, as a further torture, adding to her dishonour. The realisation that she had sunk so low, as to become his bitch in heat, stoked her further, keeping her motivated. At last she had to admit to being his willing pleasure bitch, devoted to satisfying him. 

She knew full well what was happening, but that didn't help resist it.

Returning to the study, she quietly placed the coffee in a convenient place for him to reach. Being absorbed in figures, he took no notice of her. She stood to one side, not daring to interrupt him. She must be a dutiful, obedient maid, to gain his approval. The sudden clatter of a printer startled her. 

'Well? You're still here. What do you want?' he asked.

'Please, sir, can I have a pair of panties?' she demurely asked. 

The embarrassment over asking a young man such a question, showed clearly on her face. 

'I'll see,' he said. He glanced between her legs and saw what she meant. 'I'll get that corset off you, and you can shower off that mess,' he told her.

He led the way to her room. He didn't have to instruct her, she knew what to do. Bent over, braced with both hands against a draw unit, he unlace the corset. It reminded her of the first time he took her. Though now, she thought of it as the pleasure of giving herself to him. When the bustier fell to the floor her waist felt pinched, and the ribs ached from being pushed out of place.

'You've a nice ass,' he complimented, and gave it a gentle slap. 'Turn around,' he said. 

She felt vulnerable displaying her body for his approval, or worse, his disapproval. That she was performing according his bidding, was no longer questioned. She simply did as she was told. 

'You have a sexy body, did you know that?' he asked. 

A slight shake of the head was an answer. She straightened her back, pushing out her breasts without feeling self-conscious. Instead, she was proud that he was pleased with her. In the back of her mind was an awareness of how very wrong, even immoral, this attitude was. The idea was suppressed and firmly pushed to the back of her mind, wanting instead to feel the pleasure of the moment.

'No-one ever told me, sir,' she said.

'Well, you are,' he mused. 

Instead of racing for the bathroom, and a much needed shower, she stood before him, waiting for more. Even an inexperienced youth could tell what she wanted. Besides, he was getting to know her so well. After his mother had explained a few things to him, and informed him what was to be done to her, it seemed simple enough.

'You've perfect rosebud lips when you pout,' he smiled at her. 

He watched her absorb every word. She pulled in her cheeks to form an 'O' with her lips. The reaction was interesting. 

He watched her squirming with pleasure, and smiled at her.

'Run along to the shower, before I take you on the floor right now,' he warned. 

She hesitated for a moment, as though considering enticing him to do just that. With a delightful giggle, she turned and wiggled her ass at him as she left. 

He was satisfied that he had carried out his mothers instructions effectively. Mom had been right. The woman was susceptible and vulnerable to humiliation. It seemed to him that she had caved-in easier and further than expected. Anyway, that was his mother's problem. He had to think about what to do with her next. Keeping her hoping around at his pleasure was a satisfying game, but there was a purpose to it that he mustn't forget. 

Jane came flouncing in with a towel wrapped around her. She looked years younger, like a young woman eager to be at her lovers side. 

'Come closer. You don't need that towel,' he said. 

He watched her slowly unwrap her body. The woman was trying to remain modest, while at the same time alluring. It was obvious she was unused to being a sexual tease, and was working too hard for the effect. He reached out to stroke her between the thighs. She gasped a little intake of breath.

'This smells nice and fresh. Are you keeping it ready for me?' he asked. 

She looked away, with two expressions challenging for supremacy, embarrassment and pleasure. 

'What do you call it?' he quizzed her.

'Nothing really, sir,' she answered, sounding puzzled. 'I guess I've never talked about it, or given it much attention,' she added.

'It's had plenty of attention and will get loads more,' he grinned at her. 'It's my cunt, agreed?' he demanded.

'Yes, sir,' she hesitantly spoke. 

'What do you call it then?' he asked.

'Your cunt, sir,' she responded, in a whispery voice. 

He marvelled at how wet she was becoming. The woman was worse than a slut. When he visited Louise, the mother had been so prim and proper, always wanting to be correct in how she behaved, and quick to criticise anyone who forgot their manners. 




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 04



It was hard to believe this was the same woman. He just couldn't help testing how far she would fall in this downward spiral of debauchery.

'Are you keeping it ready for me?' he demanded to know.

'Yes, sir,' she stammered. 

'Tell me properly. String the right words together, and I'll let you wear some clothes,' he promised.

Jane didn't know what to say! Her mind had turned to mush. Being naked, and having to talk dirty to this young man, was all too much. A strong compulsion to keep him happy spurred her on. She cleared her throat ready to be obscene.

'Yes, sir, err, I mean,' she panicked and dried up. Trying again she said, 'Sir's cunt is ready for him. Whenever sir wants his cunt, it will be ready to fuck,' she murmured. 

That she said such an awful thing brought home how low she had fallen. That she meant it, showed her morals had been abandoned.

'Lie down on the bed. Open your legs, more!' he demanded. 

He was looking down at her, observing her reaction as he got undressed. She licked her lips when his cock sprang out at her. Her chest rose and fell, and her eye lids fluttered. He thought she was close to an orgasm just from the anticipation of what was to come. 

With great fascination she watched him undress. It wasn't a show, it was as though he were just getting ready for bed, like any other night. He got on his knees and laid his head between her legs. Looking between her breasts she could still see his face. He was breathing heavily on purpose, tickling her engorged lips with the gentle waves of hot breath. It was difficult not to close her eyes to concentrate on the exquisite sensations. She just had to see what he was going to do next. She knew, and the anticipation was killing her!

A slight shift of his head and he licked her thighs. The tip of his tongue flicked the susceptible flesh, sending shivers up her spine. He kissed and licked her thighs. She knew what was next and tried lifting her hips, to raise her sex to him. It was impossible to move. The bed jiggled as he budged up a fraction between her legs. She was still intently watching, with eyes wide.

He planted a gentle kiss on her lips! Her eyes flickered, closed, then opened wide showing the whites large, looking intense. Another kiss, this time longer and firmer. Just as it seemed finished, his tongue licked her lips, up to her bud. He nibbled on her clit! Her eyes closed tight. Her mind was focused on her sex, with nothing else in the room existing. 

A tongue flickered over her clitoris, then it was bitten! A throbbing sensation nearly set her off! She felt a nipple twisted, which held her back from the brink. It felt as though she were being turned inside out from having a powerful suction over her pussy. A tongue wormed its way into her open, accepting body. Opening her legs sideways, she almost split herself in two, in eagerness to get more.

Feeling him wriggling around, exploring her vagina was an all consuming experience. As she was about to orgasm, it stopped. The suddenness left her high, but not dry. She was sopping wet, dripping copiously on the sheets. 

A forceful suck on a nipple caught her off guard. Her eyes were still clamped shut. She felt the other nipple sucked and bitten. The rough treatment stopped just below her pain threshold. 

Unnoticed, his cock had nudged her sex. How was that possible? The rough treatment of her breasts had masked the movement of his body, manoeuvring up the bed. Without thinking she tried to lift her hips, but he held her down. His rock hard cock rubbed between her lips, up to her clit, and pressed her bell. No need to ring, the door is open. She gave a desperate push, in an attempt to impale herself on his cock. 

She didn't think she was beyond rational thought, just reacting like any animal. He was in control, and she was just rutting like a beast of the field. The whimpering sound she made couldn't be resisted. He thrust in, and held it there.

'Oh! Fuck me! Do it now. Pound my pussy, now,' Jane implored him.

'You mean my cunt, wants fucking, maid,' he calmly stated. 

He was up on his hands with arms straight, feeling clever and dominant. When her eyes flickered open, she saw him looking down at her. How could he be so calm? Her breathing was ragged as she sucked in every deep lungful of air.

'Please, just do it!' she complained.

Seeing how determined he was, the phrases he insisted upon had to be dredged up. 

'Your cunt's ready for a good fucking, sir, Please fuck your cunt, SIR! ' she threw the words at him.

A slow upward pull was followed by a deep hard thrust. His powerful thighs pushed, until his pelvis met hers, and he flattened her tummy, forcing air from the depths of her lungs. A great whoosh of satisfaction erupted from her throat, on feeling his cock nudge the entrance to her womb. 

She was ready and needed to feel him orgasm. If not the splash of cum spurting into her womb, feeling the power of his legs on the final push would be enough. He slowed down. The rubbing of her clit with every stroke was good, but she needed to orgasm!

'Your dirty slut needs to cum, sir. Please make your dirty whore cum, SIR! Fuck your cunt hard, please!' she groaned, as though in pain.

The encouragement worked. He pushed hard, then like a piston his hard cock began to rock her. 

'Yes! Oh God, Yes!' she yelped. 

It was a strange and unfamiliar feeling to squirt. At first she hadn't known what was happening, then realised what it was. She had heard about it, but never experienced such a weird sensation. 

She didn't need any more, but he was carrying on. Tempted to tell him to stop, she realised it was no good, nothing was going to stop him. Her head went back and her eyes rolled. Another orgasm, more powerful and deep, overtook her. It sprang at her without warning.

Had she been knocked out by it? He was leaning on an elbow staring at her. The orgasm was powerful but surely she hadn't blacked out. 

'I was worried about you,' he smiled, and kissed her nose.

'What happened?' she asked.

'You kind of shrieked for a while, then went limp,' he said, with a shrug showing he was baffled. 

'Oh,' she pondered.

'Good orgasm then,' Mark smiled.

'Yes, err, thank you sir,' she offered, then realised he was waiting for more. 

Before she gave way to declaring her undying love, she had better say something he wanted to hear. There was a strong urge to cry and make a fuss. Using nasty words might dampen the sentimentality, she hoped. 

'Your cunt loved feeling sir's big cock inside, sir. Sir's sexy slut-bitch loved the fantastic fucking, sir. Thank you for the wonderful orgasm, sir,' Jane blustered, with heartfelt gratitude. 

It was a surprise to feel gratitude. How could she be so obsequious to a teenager? She hoped the fawning devotion would fade away with the post-coital bliss. 

He kissed her full on the lips, and she kissed him back with a deep longing. Both his hands explored her body, prolonging the warm feelings toward him. 

'Oh, yes, please, sir!' she whimpered. 

Unable to say what she was beseeching him for. Not daring to ask if he loved her. The stupidity was clear, though still it warped her thinking. The trap he had set for her was more dangerous and effective, than his mothers blackmail. 

'I'm hungry,' he nonchalantly stated.

'Yes, sir!' she said, and jumped out of bed as though remiss in her duty.

'Come here,' he ordered. 

She turned on a heel looking worried, wondering what she had done wrong. 

'You forgot this,' he said. 

He turned her around, wrapped the bustier around her waist, and tightly fastened it. With each tug of the laces, her head nodded as though in approval. He slapped her bottom to send her to the kitchen. Watching her scamper out of the room with a serene look on her face was amusing. 

He lay back on the bed, thinking through how he could use her for the rest of the night. His mother would be home tomorrow morning, so he had better make the most of it. At least her instructions had been followed, more or less, so there would be no complaints. 

'Shit! It couldn't get much better than this,' he laughed. 

Having a mature woman obey him was great! More than that, it was brilliant! That it was Mrs Marshal he was fucking, made it all the more sweet. Not in a million years would he have thought this high-minded, respectable woman, would become his sex pet. 

He looked up at her with a happy grin on his face, and noted how her smile glimmered in return. 'Where's yours?' he asked. 

'I'll eat later. I just want to watch you eat,' she sighed, sounding happy.

He made her scrunch up next to him, and offered a bite of the burger. While she was chewing he bent to a nipple and sucked on it. 'Mmmm! Don't know which is best,' he laughed.

Jane laughed and told him, 'Eat up your burger, I want to keep you strong,' she flirted.

'You're forgetting yourself, maid. You're my sexy bitch, remember?' he warned her. 

He couldn't have her forgetting her position when mom got home, or he would be in trouble.

'Sorry, sir! Your cunt wants a strong cock to satisfy it, sir. Please eat up, sir,' she hesitantly spoke. 

The words didn't seem unacceptable after the wonderful sex sessions. That she was referring to her vagina using vulgar words, made it more exciting. Was this yet another sign of how depraved she had become? Pushing the thought out of mind, she snuggled her head on his chest, content to listen to the sounds of munching.



Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 05



Moving In

Jane was pleased to be wearing a dress with a hem almost to the knees. The gratitude she felt toward Mark for letting her wear it, was misplaced. He was just an adolescent, yet it was taken for granted that he chose her clothing, even deciding if she could wear underwear. It was a sign of how downtrodden she had become, where everything she now did was under his supervision.

'I like your hair up, it shows off your neck,' Mark commented. 

'Thank you, sir,' she replied, and smiled at him. He was nervous since his mother had arrived home, and so was she. Two days of being at his beck and call, pandering to his whims, had her automatically thinking of herself as his personal maid. 

His mother walked into the lounge having returned from a two day business trip. She looked pleased with herself, as it had resulted in a lucrative contract. Jane had been hoping for a god result, so the harridan would go easy on her. She wanted to get home to check everything was in order, yet needed this controlling woman's permission.

She also wanted to phone her daughter, to check up on her, to make sure she was alright at college. There was no way Louise would guess her virtuous mother had been screwing her ex-boyfriend. It hadn't always been him taking her, for she had ended up willingly consorted with him. She enjoyed his attention, and the great sex. Never before had she let herself go so completely.

'You seem to have got on well together,' Margaret said, with a sly smile on her face.

'We did,' he smiled back at his mother.

'Maid, fetch me a drink, you know what I want,' Margaret ordered. She noticed Mark was bothered by something. 

'I need a drink after those long boring meetings,' she explained, to no-one in particular.

'You should let me tell her what to do,' he petulantly said. 

'Why?' Margaret asked. Noticing Jane return to his side, an awkward thought crossed her mind. 

'You gave her to me, before you left,' he explained. He was trying to be casual, as though it were a foregone conclusion, not open to discussion.

'Just to look after while I was away. That's all. She's my maid, not your sexy plaything,' she forcefully spoke. 

Whatever silly notions he had, would need to be squashed right now. She had plans for the stupid woman. Besides, she didn't want her son to form a crush on a thirty-four year old woman, that was just too ridiculous. 

'She is now,' he pouted. He couldn't help reverting to a demanding teenager in front of his mom. 

'She belongs to me. There's no way I'm giving her to you. You're not capable of looking after her properly,' she pointed out.

'I can look after her. I know what she wants,' he leered. 

'What about the daughter? There's also meetings she goes to, and a house to look after. A woman has physical and personal things to attend to. Are you going to be involved in the messy things of life. Are you going to keep track of where she's supposed to be, and what she's to do once there?' Margaret asked, pointing a finger at Jane.

He was over eighteen and could make up his own mind without her interference. The idea of making up his own mind gave him an idea.

'What do you think, maid?' he asked. Asking on the spur of the moment might not have been such a good idea.

Jane had been listening to them arguing over her, as though she were nothing more than a family pet. What was next, a collar and leash? Would they argue over who's turn it was to clean out her cage? That's how it felt in this house. As if she were in a cage, with the bars tightening around her with every wicked thing she complied with. Her actions were becoming more salubrious as the will to resist faded. 

What was she to do? Over the last two days he controlled every move she made. Of course he enjoyed teasing, and sexually working up a mature adult. He was exploring and developing, just playing with her. It was terribly damning that she too enjoyed the naughty games. Being his plaything, letting him experiment on her, was demeaning. She was a mature woman with a daughter. It was immoral for her to give in to him.

Margaret was right. If she was to be subject to one of them, it was a woman who would look after her properly. Margaret would use her, but keep her on a longer leash. She would understand that there were things in life that had to be taken care of, besides a young man's carnal needs. Again the feeling of being a pet hung heavily upon her. The decision had to be made.

With head hung low, she traipsed over to Margaret and stood demurely beside her. She couldn't look at Mark, not wanting to see the disappointment, or acknowledge the anger emanating from across the room. Thankfully he quickly stormed off to his room.

'So, maid. You enjoyed yourself, with my son?' Margaret innocently asked.

'Yes, ma'am, thank you ma'am,' Jane responded without thinking. 

The woman gave her a knowing look and Jane blushed brightly from acknowledging the awful truth.

'He's nearly half your age!' Margret said, in mock surprise. 'I wonder what our righteous neighbours would say, if they knew you were screwing my son?' she said, sounding genuinely curious, as though considering the idea.

During the pause all was quiet, as even Mark had switched off the loud protest music playing in his room. Jane sunk further into the mire, even though it was obvious the woman was merely mocking her, with no intention of telling anyone. Of course Margaret wouldn't tell anyone. Breaking the hold over her victim would spoil the fun.

'Get me that drink, maid,' Margaret sighed. It was time to relax now the confrontation with Mark was over. 'Unpack my bags, and wash the clothes. Not these,' Margaret referred to the shopping bags parked beside the chair. 

They were gifts bought after a lucrative business meeting. Something for herself, Mark, and the maid.

Returning to the lounge, Jane was pleased to see her boss was relaxed. 'Would you like something to eat, ma'am,' Jane asked. 

'Another drink will suffice. Too many business lunches,' she said.

Margaret smiled at the woman. Mark had completed his tasks unexpectedly well. Her whole bearing revealed acceptance of the maid role. She looked humble, and ready to obey. The transformation started from the moment the morning after pill had been taken. It was a stark symbol of her fall from grace. It wasn't just the threat of blackmail keeping her under the thumb. She seemed to be a natural, and just needed a push to take the first step in being a submissive. 

'Any side effects from the morning after pill?' Margaret asked

'No, ma'am,' Jane answered, with a reddening face.

'What about the daily one?' 

'No ma'am,' came the same reply. 

It was very embarrassing having this woman put her on the pill, as though she were a stupid adolescent. At the time she had been desperate for the Levonelle, and would have agreed to anything. Having already proved to be irresponsible, she had to agree to going on to the pill, and a good job too. Becoming pregnant by Mark would have been a disaster.

'I see you've been wearing the corsets, as instructed,' Margaret commented. 

She noticed the woman pause a moment, wondering over the idea that Mark had been carrying out his mother's instructions. 

'Yes, ma'am,' Jane said. 

There was an unspoken curiosity of why, and what else had been instructed. She recollected Mark mentioning something about his mother's instructions, though the comment had been ignored at the time.

'Your waist looks slimmer already. I need to do something too,' Margaret said, while patting her tummy. 

Margaret was dark haired, with hazel eyes, in contrast to Jane, who was blonde. In build they were similar, though Jane had a round pretty face, and Margaret's was long, almost oval. Margaret was attractive, with long wavy black hair, a wide mouth, and dangerous, flashing hazel eyes.

'Did you obey mark as instructed?' she asked.

'Yes, ma'am,' Jane said, faltering slightly.

'He had to punish you, didn't he. Don't prevaricate, I'll ask him tomorrow,' she warned.

'Yes, ma'am. He spanked me,' Jane admitted, trying hard for a neutral tone of voice.

Margaret laughed. 'My son spanking a neighbour, so kinky! I wish I could have been there to see your face. Oh, I see. You enjoyed it, didn't you! Don't deny it, I can see it in your face, as soon as you mentioned it. You naughty slut!' Margaret laughed.

Jane tried to keep it all hidden but her face was a movie of rapidly changing emotions. It started with surprise that she had been understood, when she hadn't been able to accept it herself yet. Lastly, it was one of shame over the sordid episode.

'Get to bed, maid. I'll have plenty of work for you tomorrow,' Margaret insisted.

'Yes, ma'am, thank you, ma'am,' Jane said. 

She hurried off to her room, glad to escape the tormentor. She lay awake thinking over how excited she had become from the humiliation of being spanked by a young man. What in hell was happening to her?

Having travelled most of the day, after heavy meetings, Margaret was exhausted. She retired early to bed, after checking the two of them were in their own rooms.

Mark sneaked into Jane's room, and slipped into her bed, intending to slip into her.

'Sir! We can't! Not now your mother is home,' Jane complained.

'Don't worry, she'll be dead to the world,' he reassured her. 

To overcome the reluctance he tickled her, while trying to unwind both arms protecting her body. 

Soon she began to giggle like a schoolgirl. It felt as though they were adolescents, playing around behind a parents back. Giving up peeling away one limb, only to find the other tightly in place, he instead trapped her arms, by shoving them under her body and holding her down. Kisses to her face and neck began to win the battle. 

Knowing he wasn't going to give up, she relented. Fighting him and her own desire was too much. Not wanting to make a noise. she decided to keep calm, and let him have his way with her. She tried to think of herself as just the household servant, being taken by the son. The ploy didn't work. Her passion became inflamed as ever it had before. She tucked a corner of a sheet into her mouth, to suppress the groans of pleasure. 

A quick hug and a kiss, then he slipped away to his room. Laying awake she thought over her new life. This couldn't go on. Both of them were using her for their own ends. The sex was good, but that too was wrong. She no longer thought of it as being bad, just inappropriate.

Next morning Jane was up early preparing breakfast for the two of them. To keep them out of the way, she delivered breakfast trays to their beds. Keeping Margaret in a good mood was important. She wanted permission to go home. Of course she would promise to return, though an excuse could be found to delay, or maybe escape to an hotel. She daydreamed over visiting Louise in college, and staying for awhile.

***

Over the last three weeks Jane hadn't much chance to think over what was happening to her. For long hours she was kept busy as a maid, an assistant, and a sex toy. Cleaning and tidying her own home had always been enjoyable, though being a humble maid in a neighbour's house wasn't a matter of choice. Margaret's minimalist interior design was less homely than her own preference of chintz, yet it had grown on her. The modernised kitchen turned out to be very practical, so much so, that she thought of redecorating her own on similar lines. If she ever got the money together.

Being a maid had become a routine for both Jane and her mistress, Margaret. The harridan had mellowed, as Jane became more adept at anticipating her wishes. Jane was useful in organising the house, and her belongings. Keys, handbags, shoes, and everything else, was in the right place when she needed them.

Phone calls to her daughter, Louise, were allowed. The conversation centred around her allowance, without giving anything away as to what she doing, or how she was getting on in college. The calls were short, devoid of information, and disappointing for Jane. She needed to open up to her daughter, to share her anguish, but then, it was impossible to tell her daughter anything of what was happening in the damnable house.

Business meetings were the worst part of the job. Mostly it was the embarrassment of being an assistant. Fetching the coffee was alright, it was being made to feel inferior, and worse. Sometimes she was used to distract the client in an awful way. 

At night she would visit Mark's room, which was satisfying a base need, yet it was also a source of anguish. He was too young to have much experience, yet he was making more inventive demands upon her. It always ended up with an orgasm, sometimes more than one, so she complied. That he was experimenting with her was worrying, from not knowing what he might try next. Being reduced to a sex toy was humiliating, yet that to had her trembling with excitement. 

***

'Jane! Where's my briefcase? Oh! Thanks, you're a treasure,' Margaret said, as they walked out the front door. 'Just the one business meeting this morning then we'll run along to your house to make sure it's secure, and pick up the bills,' Margaret said.  

The three hour drive passed quietly, with both women deep in thought. Jane wondered if she were to show off some part of her body to a stranger. The boss made her, accidently, pop buttons on a blouse, straighten the seams on stockings, lose her panties, or use some other ruse to gain an advantage over a client. 

Margaret was considering what kind of ploy to use on Lenard. She knew he was an easy one to unsettle, as she had flirted with him more than once in recent months. He used suggestive innuendo, then backed off, pretending it was just a joke if the woman became upset or angry. Not a pleasant guy, but he was harmless enough.

They arrived in reception at an impressive modern building. Once signed in they were shown into a white walled conference room. Jane had become used to the standard layout of offices, almost recognising the usual cheap prints on the walls. She straightened one, out of habit.

They weren't waiting long for the client. Margaret gave Jane strict instructions as usual, leaving her assistant frightened. The outcome of the meeting depended upon her performing as ordered, which added to her anxiety. That was worrying, what was frightening was the awful performance itself. Knowing she would be punished if she failed, so there was no way out. As usual she would try her hardest to comply. 

Margaret faced Lenard, while behind her Jane fiddled in the brief case, which lay on the floor. She hoped the woman was capable of this part at least. When she saw Lenard's eyes light up, she was sure of it. 

Jane was bent over in a short skirt, showing off stocking tops, and more. Margaret kept a flow of words going that wouldn't require the preoccupied man to respond. She gave him time to absorb the intriguing picture, then turned around.

'What are you doing, girl?' she crossly demanded. She rolled her eyes at Leonard, showing exasperation, indicating this was typical of the stupid blond.

'I can't find the file, sorry, ma'am,' she answered, with a voice full of consternation.

Margaret snatched the case from the floor, to rest it on the desk. 

'It's not here! That's the wrong paperwork, stupid girl. I'm sorry Lenard, she's a typical dumb blond. I only took her on as a favour to her father, to keep her out of trouble. I'll have to go back to the office. If I send her, she'll come back with the wrong file,' Margaret huffed. 

He looked as though an objection was on its way. 

'Jane can stay here to show you the figures, while I get the contract,' Margaret said. 

'No problem, I'm sure I can spare the time,' he smiled at Jane, totally ignoring Margaret.

'Where do we start?' he asked, spreading the papers over the desk.

'I'm not sure, sir. I was supposed to study them yesterday, but I forgot. Please don't tell my boss, she'll fire me and send me home. Please sir, don't tell her, please!' Jane said, pulling out the last word in a plaintive whine. 

Wearing a tight corset, her voice was already sounding breathless, so it was easy to act anxious. Besides, she was frightened of letting Margaret down, so the plea was almost real. The nervous, submissive young woman she appeared to be, was what she had become. It was no act.

'I see,' he mused. She was standing close beside him, with her hip touching his hand. 

With trembling hands she tried to arrange the pages in order, only to let one slip to the floor. Crawling on hands and knees, she brushed against his legs, to retrieve the lost paper. She could feel the back of the skirt rising around her hips, trying not to imagine what he could see of her rear. Short of breath from bending over in the corset, she put a hand on his knee, kneeling before him. 

With a bright smile, she breathlessly said, 'Got it sir. I really want to do it for you, if you'll let me,' she said, with big blue innocent eyes. Both hands were on his leg, as though ready to push herself up off the floor. For a moment she was proud of the performance, having progressed from the usual mishap, to this more complicated routine.

He was looking down the open blouse at an ample cleavage, which she contrived to ignore. While on the floor she had slipped a button loose, as instructed by Margaret. The corset pushed up her breasts, with the nipples almost popping out. So far all was going to plan, but would he respond? She had to be careful not to push him along, as it had to seem as though he were taking advantage of her.

He stroked her hair and smiled at her. 'Why do you want to keep the job so badly,' he asked. He prevented her from rising, as the view of her breasts was so alluring.

'I don't want to let Margaret down, or my father. He'll stop my allowance and make me get a real job,' she petulantly answered. 

'I have to decide whether to do the right thing or not. I should tell Margaret, but . . .' he said.

'Oh, please, I'll owe you big time, if you don't tell, please, sir,' she whined.

'I need to know if you are the right character to protect. I have a way to tell,' he said, with a crafty look on his face.

'OK. Test me, sir,' she demurely said.

'I'll guess what colour panties you wear,' he mischievously said. 

As usual he made it a joke, if she objected, and if she didn't, he would continue. After all, her boss had said she was a dumb blond, and she was desperate for his co-operation.

'If that will tell you what I'm like, I mean, the right character, please do,' she willingly said. 

Inside she classified the guy as a creep. Though, she couldn't blame him after such a lewd act.

'If I guess right, I win them,' he grinned. 

'I'm not sure, sir. What will you think of me if I do?' she asked, with a pained look of consternation. 

'That's a part of the test. I'll know if I can trust you,' he said, with a suspicious look. 

He was wondering if this was a set-up, which was typical of Margaret. The look of innocence on her face tempted him to continue, or maybe it was the stocking tops.

'What will I do without panties in this short skirt?' she asked, looking as though she were straining for an answer. 

'Be very careful how you bend over,' he said, with a chuckle.

'Well, I guess. Sometimes I forget to put things in the laundry basket, and don't have any to wear, so maybe. . . Alright then,' she reluctantly agreed.

'You are wearing a red thong,' he declared.

'I think you're right. Yes! I remember now, the maid wasn't in yesterday, so it was the last clean pair this morning. How clever of you, sir. Does this mean you won't tell on me?' she asked, looking worried.

'Conclude the next part of the deal, then we'll see,' he firmly stated.

'Eh?' she said, with a wrinkled brow, as though not understanding. He held out his hand to her. 'Oh! The panties,' she said. Looking bemused, she stood up, pressing both hands on his leg. With the skirt lifted almost to her hips, she asked, 'Are you sure this is OK, sir? This isn't a trick is it? You won't tell on me, will you, sir.' 




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 05



'Be rest assured, it's no trick. It's all part of the process to see if I can trust you, and should tell your boss or not,' he smiled, trying to be reassuring. 

Jane wondered how he could possibly think anyone was so stupid. Margaret had often pointed out that men would believe anything, from the hope of getting what they wanted. Jane believed it, as the evidence was right here.

She relaxed her face, and smiled back at him, looking as though the explanation was acceptable. Lifting the skirt up revealed stocking tops held up by suspender belts, attached to a corset. The skirt fell around her hands and she made a fuss over getting them entangled in the little piece of material. She was standing right in front of him, providing a front row performance. His eyes were riveted on the rising curtain, in expectation of a spectacular show. 

'Gosh! I'm so clumsy. I guess I'm nervous from this being so important. I so want to get it right, sir. Would you hold up the skirt for me, please?' she asked, with a put on innocent tinkle in her voice. 

Without saying a word, he reached forward and lifted the skirt up around her waist. Jane felt the heat emanating from her sex, and knew the musky smell was another sign that she was aroused. Hopefully she wasn't past the point of no return. She hooked her thumbs into the sides of the panties, and shimmied them down her hips. They were simply a string of red silk wrapped around her hips, with an equally thin loop descending between the legs. 

She watched him intently staring at every movement of the red silk. She hesitated from peeling them away from the damp patch between her legs. 

'Are you sure it's all right to give you my panties? I so want to satisfy you, sir, so I can keep my job,' she breathed at him, the sound nothing more than a heavy sigh.

He cleared his throat. Unable to tear his eyes away from the little triangle of material glued to her lips. He nodded his head, cleared his throat again, and croaked, 'Yes. It's necessary to keep your job,' he was partly honest this time, being too far gone to play around. Though, how could it be honest when the whole situation was a set-up. 

She pushed her thighs apart, and peeled the panties away from her sex. She kept her pussy shaved under Mark's orders, keeping just a wisp of golden hair above it. Her lips were bare, and he was mesmerised by them. She stood still for a moment. A shimmy of her hips let them slither down her legs to her ankles. With a hand behind her back she tucked the skirt into a suspender strap. Stepping out of the panties, she kicked them behind her.

'Oh! Sorry sir, I need to get them for you, sir,' she murmured. 'Sir!' she said, and nudged him.

He reluctantly let go of the skirt, letting the curtain fall on a magnificent show. She turned around for a stiff legged bend, and picked up her panties. With the skirt tucked up she knew exactly what he could see. 

Lenard looked at the slim thighs with the straps pulled into them. The stocking tops formed a lower curve, with the corset above framing a pert bottom. In the centre of the picture was a puckered hole. His eyes were focused on the bulge between her thighs, where glistening lips protruded. 

Turning around, her mouth fell open on seeing him. She thought he was going to have a heart attack. That would certainly ruin Margaret's plan, with no-one to sign the contract. His face was ruby red, and his eyes looked glazed. His breathing was shallow, as was hers, though more urgent sounding. He made a gurgling noise, and seemed to jerk a little. 

Margaret had promised to interrupt before he had a chance to take her. It was supposed to be an impromptu lap dance, and nothing more. Jane was regretting that idea. She was fired up, and ready go, or rather, cum. To hell with morals! She had learnt that sex could be exciting and fulfilling. She wanted sex!

While married it had been over too quickly for her, but that had been forgotten since Mark. She shouldn't have forgotten about her husband, for that was more usual, and this man too had cum without her. Mark was exceptional. He didn't think of her needs, it was his enthusiasm that had her excited enough to orgasm every time. 

This was very disappointing. Margaret walked in before she had a chance to revitalise him. She was on her knees ready to suck him back to life.

The contract was signed without much discussion. He was embarrassed, and wanted to shoot off to the bathroom to clean up his underwear. In the car outside Margaret looked at her assistant, ready with a compliment for a job well done.

'What's the matter with you?' she asked.

'Sorry, ma'am,' Jane automatically responded.

'What for, you did a good job. You look nervous as hell, did you screw him?' she asked. She needed to know for business reasons, not because she was particularly interest in what Jane got up to.

'No!' Jane answered.

'That's it isn't it! I've never seen you so antsy,' she laughed. 'You weren't supposed to get all worked up. You were supposed to work him up, to get something on him,' she scolded.

'I did work him up, but he cum in his pants!' Jane complained. 'Ma', she began to say, Mark, only just holding back. 'My cunt needs filling,' Jane said, as though in pain. 

'Jane! I'm surprised at you, such language,' Margaret exclaimed, in mock surprise. 

She guessed her son had goaded her into using bad language, but didn't want it to become a habit. 'I'll punish you for that when we get home,' she sternly warned.

Jane couldn't wait until tonight, when Mark would be available to satisfy her lust. She put a hand between her legs to play with herself. 

'Stop that right now, you dirty, slutty, maid!' Margaret crossly spoke. 

'Please ma'am, I need it. I'm desperate,' she whimpered. 

Her sex was aching for satisfaction. Since her moral code had been broken down, she had become uncontrollable. 

Margaret could see large hard nipples, almost bursting from the blouse. She could smell the muskiness of her sex. She remembered her so-called assistant had given Lenard her panties. 

'What have you done to me? I've never felt like this. I can't bear it. I need sex!' she complained. She rubbed her thighs together, not caring if it was obvious or not.

'You've always been a slut. It's just that it's been suppressed for years, without the chance of letting loose before,' Margaret said, trying to make it sound believable. Maybe it was or wasn't, but it was advantageous for Jane to believe it. She made a phone call, hung up, and said, 'All arranged, we're going to lunch.'

As Jane got out of the car Margaret warned her. 'Button up the blouse. Keep that skirt under control, and yourself, this is a decent hotel.'

The comment stung Jane, as she was no longer considered decent. 'Yes, ma'am,' she said.

They slid into a booth, opposite a handsome stranger. He looked attractive to Jane, but any man did at the moment. She tried to remain calm, but kept reaching out with a leg to touch him. Fortunately a table leg was in the way.

'Anything you like?' Margaret smoothly asked Paul.

'Anything? That might cost me too much,' he said.

'It'll cost you information about the contract renewal due next month,' she stated.

He lifted the menu higher, almost hiding his face. Margaret considered him a bad poker player. 

'What do I get for that?' he said, while giving Jane the once over. 

The woman had a nice pair of breasts, not too large, over a slim waist. The nipples were pointing darkly at him, through the white blouse. He couldn't see her bottom half, but had an impression of nice legs, when she slid into the booth. Long wavy blond hair fell about her shoulders. Blue eyes confirmed she was a natural blond, though he was looking forward to finding out for sure.

'Promise to deliver, and she'll deliver whatever you want,' Margaret suggestively spoke. 

Jane should have been cringing over the way they talked, as though she weren't there. The boss was offering her to a stranger! This was different from before, when she had been naughty to gain a business contract. This was a direct sale of her body, for information. It wasn't money being negotiated, nevertheless, her sex was being sold to this stranger!

Paul looked into Jane's eyes, wondering if she was on something. No. The woman was aroused! It looked as though she wanted him for lunch. He glanced at the menu, wondering if his name was there. She was good looking, but it was difficult to pin down an age. She was around thirty, just under, or over. A bit older than him. Still, experience counted for something, and it looked as though she knew what she wanted without making a fuss.

'Anything? The two of you?' he seriously asked.

Just as seriously she answered, 'Maybe.'

'She'll do anything I want?' Paul quietly asked.

Jane opened her mouth to object. A smile from him turned the objection into a come-on , when she seductively licked her lips. The thought of going to bed with this handsome stranger kept her fire burning. She was too aroused to object to their plans.

'Yes, anything. A room is booked upstairs, ready and waiting for you two,' Margaret said, with a raised eyebrow. 

'Not you then?' he smiled.

'Maybe, next time,' she purred. 

Leaning across the table, Margaret flashed him an ample cleavage as a teaser. He looked surprised as well as impressed, for he hadn't noticed a button or two being undone. She was adept at making the accident happen, having learnt the trick some time ago when this stupid woman wasn't around to play games for her. 

Paul agreed to disclose the contract details in an email. The bargain was sealed.

In the lift they both stood staring at the numbers above the door. 

Instead of being infuriated, Jane felt humiliated. She wasn't worth consulting as to what she wanted. She was too inconsequential, just something to be used. She allowed the feeling to seep deeply into her mind, right through her body, into her bones. Being a nothing fired her up, made her feel free to do anything.

No sooner were they in the room, Jane kicked the shoes away, dropped the skirt to the floor, and pulled the blouse up over her head. She stood before him in stockings, corset, and nothing else. It was almost a defiant pose. 

'We're not bothering with a drink then? As the Aussies say, "brace yourself Sheila",' he grinned. 

He didn't need to shove her onto the bed, she grabbed him and fell back. Neither of them needed prompting. She opened her legs, found him, and wrapped them around his waist. 

Vagina muscles gripped him tight. As he pushed, she shoved. The rhythm came naturally, as though they were a married couple, at it for years. As he spurted his load into her, she climaxed. It hadn't taken long.

'A drink now, then we can start again, more sedately. What's your poison?' he asked.

'Not sure,' she answered. With the first thing that came to mind she added, 'Vodka.'

'On the rocks?' he asked. 

Seeing the nod, he dropped a couple of cubes into a glass, then emptied the little bottle. Finding a passable scotch, he added a splash of still mineral water to his glass.

'So? Where did Margaret get you from?' he asked. When she didn't answer he continued. 'Do I get to ask just three questions?' he teased.

'I'm not a prostitute,' she blurted out.

'Didn't think you were. Well, not since you seduced me so inelegantly. You were so horny you couldn't wait,' he laughed, and nudged her chin, to show he was teasing.

'I work for Margaret. I was desperately horny,' she seriously admitted. 

'We haven't finished yet, have we?' he said, with a questioning look.

'I guess not, it's up to you. I'm at your disposal,' Jane shyly spoke. 

Now the rush of passion had subsided she felt embarrassed. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed to remove the stockings. She didn't want to get into trouble for laddering them. Before meeting Margaret she hadn't worn stockings, though now she always wore them. She didn't give it a thought, that Margaret would chastise her for laddering them. Having Margaret order her around, and reprimanding her, had become the norm.

A leisurely session started as soon as the drinks were finished. It started with kisses, and moved on to hand caresses until their limbs were entwined. His leg was between hers, pressing and rubbing her sex. One of her legs was curved around one of his, the other pressed against his hardness, pumping it.

Their breathing rate was up with their heart rate, as though in a race. They let go of each other and he unexpectedly pulled her on top. He pulled her legs either side of him, then straightened her feet beside his head. She was frightened of moving in case she squashed his cock. 

He lifted her with his knees, and by her breasts, with both hands. Feeling herself lowered onto his cock she shook her head. Not to stop him, it was from a need to release tension without screaming out loud. He was lowering her very slowly down the length of his rock hard penis. 

The tension built in her as it rubbed its way across her clit. Her vagina was being stretched as his cock invaded her. It felt like her whole body was being filled. His cock reached deep and stopped. She dare not move, wanting to experience the fullness without the excitement taking over. 

'Oh!' she yelped in surprise. It was a mere hesitation, there was more! 'Oh, my God!' she breathed out as though the air had been pushed from her lungs by his cock. Never had she felt so deeply penetrated. It was all the more real because they were less carried away than before. This time they were taking it easy? 

She sat balanced on his stomach, deeply impaled by his cock. She couldn't move! Rolling sideways might hurt his penis. Her legs couldn't get a grip as they were stretched out either side of his torso, with feet beside his ears. His upright knees prevented her from moving backwards. He lifted his bum off the sheet, with her weight driving her down onto his cock.

'Oh! Yes! Do it again, please!' she begged.

Sensations rippled through her body from her crotch, to the tips of fingers and toes. He did it again. The sensation wasn't over quickly. Sparks slowly spread outward, igniting nerves. The course through her body could be anticipated, making it a wonderful experience. He did it again. More immediately this time, then again, and again.

Jane's head bounced as though she were a rag doll. Her breasts jiggled. She could no longer follow what was going on, as her head became overloaded with the fire of passion. She passively accepted his thrusts, unable help. Her body was being used by a stranger, but she cared nothing for that. If this was whoring then she was all for it.

This time she couldn't hold on to the yell of satisfaction. Forgetting where she was, a low groan escaped on an upward heave of his hips. The noise came from her throat, a guttural animal like sound, becoming louder, almost a scream. Pure pleasure flooded her senses. 

They lay together recovering. He propped up the pillows to take a proper look at her. 

'Did you enjoy that as much as the first?' she asked. 

Not knowing why she asked, probably because Mark questioned her so often.

'Both. Differently,' he conceded.

'You must think I'm terrible. Doing it with a complete stranger. I didn't used to enjoy sex. Now I love to fuck. Didn't even use that word, as I thought it was so bad. Now I even like the word, fuck,' she said, and laughed.

'I was so turned on I couldn't help myself. I needed it so bad. Never used to be like that when I was married,' she blurted out, and regretted telling him about that.

'You're a widow,' he commented.

'How did you know?' she asked.

'Just a guess. Maybe Margaret was right, that you now feel free to do whatever you want,' he suggested. 

'Could explain why I'm so sexed up all the time,' she mused. She couldn't bring herself to tell him what had happened this morning, with that awful client. 'Do you think it will last long?' she suddenly asked.

'I hope so!' he laughed. 

He meant it for his benefit, but she didn't mind. Being a slut wasn't so bad after all. 

'I'll phone Margaret to pick you up,' he reluctantly suggested, leaving it almost a question, in case she might want more. 

She was pleased to see he looked regretful that she was going, or hoped it was what he was thinking. She was about to ask him if she would see him again.

Seeming to read her expression he said, 'I look forward to another exciting session. What about you?'

'Yes!' she gushed, and turned away, looking embarrassed. 

He was wrong about one thing, she wasn't free to do whatever she wanted. Margaret picked her up outside the hotel. It was no wonder security were watching her. Without panties, her thighs were a mess by the time she walked past reception. She felt like a prostitute, and hotel security probably considered she was. Before anyone could say anything, Margaret whisked her away.

'How was it? No need to answer, you look very pleased with yourself,' Margaret said.

When they reached home Jane scooted off to clean herself up. Afterward she found Margaret in the study, with Mark. She stood still patiently waiting for them. 

'We've gone through your accounts. They're not looking good. The mortgage is absorbing too much of your income, with college fees swallowing rest. There's no way you can carry on like this. When the savings have gone, you won't be able pay Louis's college fees and expenses, let alone the mortgage. 

The silence and looks prompted Jane to speak. 'What can I do, ma'am?' she asked.

'Mark is a whiz at accounts, but even he can't make it work. You'll either have to sell the house, or bring Louise out of college,' Margaret said.

'I can't do that, not to Louise,' Jane complained.

'Then it's sell the house,' Margaret flatly stated. 

'I can't sell the house, I need to live somewhere,' Jane pointed out the obvious.

Expecting to go around and around again, between the two options, Margaret said, 'Here. You will stay here. Free lodging, food, and everything else.' A knowing look at Mark, referred to "everything else", but the remark was missed by Mark and Jane.

Margaret waited for the idea to take hold. 'It's the only option, if you want to keep Louise at university.'

Jane looked down at the carpet, seemingly studying it for dirty marks needing removal. She had already suggested the carpet needed renewing. Margaret had flippantly suggested scattering post-it notes to cover the stains. To keep her maid happy, she had gone ahead and ordered a carpet. If nothing else, it would stop the compulsive woman from scrubbing at every splash of spilt coffee.

'Yes, ma'am,' Jane conceded.

Mark looked at his mother with a look of surprise over how quickly Jane had agreed. Margaret wondered how much the new experience of sex played a part in making the decision. Hell! The one time prude was having more fun than she was! 

'I haven't forgotten you were promised a punishment, maid. Mark, take the maid to her room. You are to spank her. Not too hard, just something to remind her of her place, and that she mustn't use foul language,' Margaret said, laying down the law.

When Mark took a firm grip of her arm, she forgot all about the house. Jane stopped to protest, and just as quickly dismissed the idea as hopeless. She was being sent to her room to be disciplined, as though she were a child. As a mature woman, the prospect of being spanked by an adolescent was humiliating, and of course Mark was enjoying her discomfort.

As soon as they got to her room, Mark gave her a stern order. 'Remove the overall, and bend over.' 

Jane opened her mouth to protest and quickly shut it again. Would the punishment be administered all the harder, if she gave him a hard time. Probably. She gritted her teeth and bent over the back of a chair, to grip the seat. She didn't need to remove her panties, for she wasn't allowed to wear them in the house. She had become used to the nakedness, for often they were removed outside the house as well.




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 05



Jane was thankful he was going to use his hand, for that meant it wouldn't be so bad. A slap hurt her pride more than anything, which was its purpose. A warm feeling emanated from her bottom, but more injurious was the warm feeling in her tummy. The familiar feeling of arousal was making its way through her body to her mind. Sexual stimulation came in a myriad of forms these days. It was as though the slut in her had been let loose. From humiliation she became a sexed up bitch, and from having no choice except to submit, she was free of responsibility and ready for anything.

Mark slapped her bare cheeks, reddening them, noting her lips swelling in reaction to the rough handling. He had discovered she became sexed up from being humiliated, and controlled. So now he took every opportunity to ensure he had a hot sex pet, ready to pander to his whims.

'Naughty slutty bitch,' Mark teased. He ran a finger between her swollen lips, letting her know he was aware how aroused she was. 'Lay on the bed,' he told her.

Without being told, she lay back with legs spread. In anticipation, she licked her lips, completely unaware of what she was doing. She watched him intently, willing him to get undressed, or just whip his cock out.

'Play with yourself, dirty maid,' he ordered.

Reluctantly Jane rubbed her lips, until the clit appeared, then concentrated on its pleasure. A young guy was watching the lewd and shameful show, but she couldn't stop herself. When he visited her daughter she treated him like an adolescent, and he had to respect her position as a mother and an adult. Now he treated her like a dirty slut. 

There wasn't much he didn't know about her body, though surely she should keep something to herself. She looked up to find him leaving. He wasn't going to slake her vagina's thirst for cum!

'Keep going until you cum,' he sniggered.

Jane stopped playing with her pussy. The damn boy was torturing her! Her fingers found her cunt, all by themselves. She stopped again, for a shorter moment this time. Giving up, she used both hands in an attempt to reach nirvana. A finger teased her asshole, while the other hand concentrated on her sopping wet pussy. 

Playing with her sex as ordered by a young guy, was so very degrading. It was a dismal failure of her character to know he was so aware of her lack of resistance. The damn boy knew she wouldn't be able to resist, once he started her off. He had tricked her. She was expecting a good seeing to, whereas now she was having to make do with a do-it-yourself job. 

***

Jane was in bed, pondering this latest worrying development, while waiting to be summoned by Mark. Before it could be properly considered, the documents had been signed, giving Margaret access to her accounts. She didn't doubt Mark's ability, or that her accounts were a mess. Only a short while ago the bank manager had spoken to her, with advice about cutting back. She had cuttingly explained that had been done already. 

This might be a solution to the financial problems, though selling her home was a daunting prospect. Where would Louise come home to when it was sold? More importantly, where would she go if she managed to escape this den of iniquity. 

When her home was sold, there would be nowhere she could run to.

It looked as though she was here to stay. On what Margret paid her, as an assistant and maid, she could never raise enough for a mortgage, or even the deposit on an apartment. Without experience it would only be possible to find a low paid job. At least here, she had free lodging and food. The prospect of saving up to find an apartment looked bleak.

Between them they decided what to wear, what to eat, when and how she was punished, even when she would have an orgasm, and every other detail of her life. It was no wonder she had been brought to heel like pet bitch. To escape them she needed money.

'Perhaps my mistress would be kind enough to let me go whoring in the evenings,' Jane pensively whispered to the empty room. A half sob, and laugh rasped her throat, nearly choking her.

The prospect of being Margaret's compliant maid for the rest of her life was dreadful. Being her assistant was a nice way of saying she was a whore. She wasn't sure about being Mark's sexual plaything. Was it god or bad? Over the last few weeks she had certainly lost her moral compass. 

'I'm just helping a young guy learn about female sexuality. I'm just a sex doll for him to experiment with,' she cruelly laughed. 

Her eyes flashed wickedly in the dark. Sex was fun and exciting, and she loved it! She started to wonder how Mark would want to play with his sex doll tonight. Last night he tried, and gave up on some precarious positions. In the end she was on top of him, bouncing on his cock. 

From yesterday he set the alarm clock at a different time each night. With the alarm hand broken off, she had no idea when it would ring. It was to keep her guessing when she would be summoned to his bed. She giggled at the thought that sex was an exciting game. It was exciting, and she enjoyed it.



Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 06



'So what's Mr Frederickson like?' Margaret asked the receptionist. The woman was smartly dressed and handled herself with unusual professionalism, so Margaret didn't expect much of use to be revealed.

'He's a nice man, at least as far as a purchasing CEO goes,' she dryly commented.

There wasn't much to lose if she shocked the woman. 'Is he a leg, or breast man?' Margaret cheekily asked.

The receptionist gave her an old fashioned stare, then relented. 'You two should have an advantage,' she drily answered.

The woman wasn't referring to Margaret and her assistant, so the message was clear enough. Margaret gave her a wiry grin of thanks. As usual the client kept them waiting in a meeting room, which gave Margaret a chance to brief her assistant.

Jane knew the routine by now, becoming practised at arranging her clothing to accidently malfunction. The cotton holding on a button would be almost cut through, so with a discreet tug, it would ping across the desk at a client revealing her bra. Failing panties, zips, buttons, stockings, and the rest of her business clothing had been modified at one time or another. Showing off her body to clients had become a pleasurable game, especially when compared to more embarrassing episodes. Fortunately Margaret hadn't given her to a client for some time.

Robert was unimpressed with the figures, at least the ones on paper. Noticing his discreet looks at her bust, Margaret decided to act. It was all or nothing time.

'Let's take a closer look at the figures, see if we can work out something. I'm sure there's room to manoeuvre,' Margaret suggested. 

With a wink at Jane, they moved around the desk, to sit either side of Robert. Out of view of the client they both tweaked a blouse button loose. Margaret was showing off her skill to Jane, though the student had surpassed the tutor. 

Both women sat either side of the guy, pressing close. Leaning forward over the paperwork, her soft breasts rubbed his hand. Margaret had broken the air-conditioning control, though a slight line of perspiration on his brow was something other than a warm room.

Margaret upped the ante by inconspicuously loosening another button. Jane flapped her loose blouse at the back, saying she was hot, pulling it tight against both nipples. 

Turning to Robert, Margaret asked, 'What do you think? Do you like them?'

Robert tried not to look into her cleavage, yet again. 'Yea, sure, they're nice, I mean the figures are interesting,' he blustered.

'We could rearrange things like this,' Margaret pointed out a total, by stretching across him. 'I do hope you like our figures, Robert. Could you handle them alright?' she asked. He wasn't going to answer, while lost in a deep cleavage. Pushing her shoulders back, thrusting her beasts out, she added, 'You could juggle them around a bit, if you like,' Margaret suggested.

Not wanting to be outdone, Jane piped up, 'We could lower the costs here. Would you like to see mine, sir.' Jane said, to gain his attention. 

A push of a firm breast against his bare arm got the attention she wanted. He turned to Jane for a view of an equally substantial pair of breasts. 

'We want you to be pleased with our figures, sir. You'll find we are very willing for you to play with them,' Jane breathed over him, while thrusting her chest out. She was absently tapping with a pencil a firm mound, tightly cupped in the blouse. She innocently said, 'I could work these out just for you, sir. I'm sure you will be pleased with them, laid out before you. We both want to please you, sir. You just have to tell us you want them, and they're all yours. It'll be our pleasure to satisfy you sir.' 

Jane smiled at him with eyes wide, glinting brightly. His face was a picture of delight. He beamed back at her with a look of bewilderment. He didn't know what to say. Not wanting to break the spell that had two attractive women unintentionally offering themselves to him, he kept quiet. Trying to look as though he was considering the proposal, his head nodded, while the eyes were deep into a cleavage.

Margaret thought her assistant was going too far with the innuendo, especially as she didn't have much information on Robert. If he started wanting more, that could be arranged. What would be a disaster, is if he got all prissy and huffy with them.

'Well what do you think, sir,' Jane concluded. 

As she uttered the words, she sat back with both arms raised, as if to say - its decision time. At that moment a button popped from the blouse, to land in his lap. 

Robert looked at a nice pair of tits balancing on top of a corset. His eyes protruded out of their sockets, ready to caress the warm, soft flesh. Both nipples were presenting themselves at attention. He breathed out a puff of air, tickling her nipples. He watched them grow to an impressive size. 

As though she had suddenly awoken from a nightmare of embarrassment, Jane arched her back as though trying to escape him, with both arms stretched wide above her head. 

'Oh! My God!' she dramatically exclaimed. With her breasts forced out, the nipples popped over the edge. She covered her face with both hands, and mumbled an apology. She leaned forward, and delved into his lap. 

'Sorry, sir, I need the brooch,' she murmured, as though it were an adequate explanation. He lifted himself up as she rummaged around. Managing to press a hand against his penis tenting his trousers, she also found the jewellery. Of course, the brooch was already in her hand before searching for it between his legs. Trying to pin her blouse together was a difficult task. 

'You shouldn't have done that, Jane! Robert was capable of finding it for you!' Margaret scolded her assistant. She waited until it was all over before saying anything.

'That's alright, Jane was embarrassed, she just reacted,' he smiled at her.

'Could you?' Jane asked, indicating the brooch with wide open eyes, looking so very innocent and needy.

Shaky hands nervously brushed the soft skin, even contriving to rub a nipple. Eventually he clasped the blouse together, and reluctantly sat back to admire his handy work. 

Margaret and Jane dare not even glance at each other as they walked from the office building. They were driving from the car park when they burst out laughing. Clear of the office building they were at last able to let off steam. The poor client had been wound up by them both, until he willingly signed whatever was put in front of him.

A few weeks passed with nothing untoward occurring. Jane settled into her new jobs, as an occasional assistant, live-in maid, and the son's plaything. Everything had become routine, even the sex. Though she still jumped with excitement, when the alarm clock went off, summoning her to Mark's bed. The alarm hand had been removed, so she didn't know at what time it was set. It was worse when he set it late, as the sexual tension had her more desperate by the minute. As soon as the damn thing buzzed, she behaved like one of Pavlov's dogs, becoming wet with the anticipation of her cunt being fed. She would scamper off to his bed, ready for anything he desired. Not that she had much choice. 

Jane was waiting upon her mistress for instructions, as usual she was daydreaming.

'What are you waiting for, maid?' Margaret absently asked.

'Do you want lunch now, ma'am,' Jane asked.

'Mmm? No, not just yet. You had best take a look at this first. After paying the mortgage balance and legal fees, there isn't much left. Mark has deposited everything into a bank account, with instructions to pay Louis's tuition fees. An amount will also be transferred to Louis' account each month as an allowance,' Margaret said, while pointing to each piece of paper in turn.

Jane was mesmerised by the figures, which didn't mean much to her. So used to having her affairs decided upon by Margaret, and in the past by her husband, she accepted it without question. 

'Thank you, ma'am,' she automatically said.

'You can fix lunch now, maid,' Margaret brusquely said. 

In the kitchen, Jane's thoughts caught up with the implications of what she had been told. Her wages as Margaret's maid, and assistant, were paid into the account. What was left of the insurance payout would soon be gone, and her pay was inadequate to cover next years' tuition fees, as well as Louis's allowance. 

She received a bonus when giving something special to a client, which would help boost the account. Jane deeply sighed. There was no other way of looking at it. She was being paid to have sex with strangers. It looked as though she would have to ask Margaret if she could whore more often. It looked like the only way to get Louis through college. 

The thought of Mark controlling her finances was off putting. What would he think of her when bonuses were added to her several times a week? What would Louise think if she found out her mother was whoring to put her through college?

'Fuck it! I don't care anymore!' she exclaimed to herself. 

Between the two of them she was cosseted, and well looked after in all aspects of her life. Her money, food, lodging, clothes, and even her sex life, was all taken care of. She had made a mess of things before living here, so she began to look at it as being looked after, rather than being controlled. 

In the morning Margaret made sure she took the pill, and was instructed in detail on her duties as a maid. When acting as an assistant Margaret arranged with whom she would have a sexual adventure. At night Mark determined at what time she would go to his room to play his sex games. Once there he would tell her what she had to perform, for his satisfaction.

'That was good! Didn't realise how hungry I was. Thank you, maid,' Margaret complimented her.

'You're welcome, ma'am,' Jane gratefully acknowledged.

While Margaret was in a good mood, she angled for some help. 

'What is it, Maid? Don't hop from foot to foot, just come out with it,' Margaret said, with exasperation. 

Margaret was trying to compose a notice for an upcoming event. Both business and charity would be combined. The local cancer trust would gain needed funds, and she would gain good will from invited clients. Maybe even a new client might be added to the growing list. 

'Ma'am. Err. I was thinking of the college fees. Mark said the money wouldn't last through next year,' she said.

'So I believe. There's a whole year to go before it runs out. We can do something about it soon enough,' Margaret dismissively spoke.

'I was thinking. . .' Jane began, and trailed off.

'No need to think, maid. I'll decide what to do for the best,' Margaret said, sounding demeaning, yet not meaning to. Jane was used to her position, and simply accepted the comment.

Margaret relented. 'Come back here. What were you thinking,' she asked.

'Before it becomes desperate, I'd like to at least find a way. Perhaps I could entertain the clients more often?' Jane blurted out.

At first Margaret didn't catch on. 'Maid! I'm surprised at you!' for once she wasn't mocking her, rather, she was genuinely shocked. 

Margaret pursed her lips in thought. There was no way she wanted a reputation for providing a whore to gain business. This whole situation had gone too far in the first place. She hadn't meant the stupid woman to sleep with clients. She had set her up to gain revenge, but that had passed, and now she was stuck with the woman. 

Now the prissy, holier than thou woman, was asking to whore for her. The vengeance thing had gone too far. Had she corrupted her, or had she merely brought out the slut in her? She didn't want to think about it, so dismissed the thought. Having the woman as a maid was convenient, and had lasted far longer than expected. Damn! The woman had become part of the household, even a part of the family. 

'I'll think about it and let you know,' Margaret said, intending to get back to work instead. 

Margaret shuddered when thinking of Jane as family. It had been several weeks ago when she teased the woman about becoming pregnant from a sex session with Mark. Jane had looked terrified. Of course it was a horrendous prospect, having a young guy her daughters age, as the father of her child. At the time Margaret thought it a great joke, and just another stick to beat the woman with. 

'Thank you very much ma'am, I'm very grateful, ma'am,' Jane humbly said. 

She quickly left the room, feeling ashamed. It was one thing to think about whoring, and quite another to ask permission to prostitute herself. What had happened to her? There was no sign of such awful immoral behaviour before coming to this house. She couldn't blame it on anyone but herself. She had behaved badly that first evening here, and carried on with more disgraceful acts ever since. 

Margaret put down her note pad and pen. The charity auction was being organised by Pinkie, an old friend from high school. Would she agree to a slave auction? She had a wicked sense of humour, and when Jane's name was mentioned, she would laugh her head off. It would certainly attract a lot of local people.

How could she make some money out of it for the tuition fees? That was the point.

'Hi Pinkie! How you doing?' Margaret shouted down the phone.

'Stop that, I've got a new sensitive hearing aid,' Pinkie complained.

'Want do you want now? You've already wangled free advertising at the event, god knows how,' Pinkie snorted.

'I've got contacts,' Margaret smiled to herself. Her maid was chairwoman of the committee, which was not something she could reveal, as tempting as it was.

'You remember in college, the slave auction,' she began, only to be interrupted.

'No! I do remember, but there is no way we can get away with that. The stuck-up bitch won't let you get away with it,' Pinkie remonstrated.

'Want to bet?' Margaret teased.

'No! I know you well enough, Muffin,' she protested.

'Muffin, I haven't heard that pet name in a long time,' Margaret laughed.

'It was well earned, especially after the auction,' Pinkie laughed.

Margaret explained her idea, in part.

'Maybe. You have to get that prissy committee woman, Jane, to agree. I don't want to know how. Just let me know if you get the go ahead, and quickly, so I can organise things. Not your strongest point, if I remember,' Pinkie warned.

They chatted for a few minutes over old times, and hung up. Both women thought it over. Pinkie realised a lot of money could be raised, though she didn't think it would be possible to get approval from the committee, even for Muffin Margaret.

'It's not meal time again, is it?' Margaret huffed.

'No, ma'am. I forgot to ask. Could you get me some supplies, please. It's that time of month. I need some make up too,' Jane asked. She hated asking for personal things, but that was the price to be paid for being so dependent upon her mistress. 

'Just write it down on one of your lists,' Margaret said. The maid's organisation of her life worked, but she didn't have to like it. 'Don't go. I have a solution to your financial situation. Tell me now if you can do it, before I start spending time organising things,' Margaret said.

Jane was pleased her mistress had bothered to figure something out, yet this would be highly embarrassing. The idea of displaying herself as a maid, on stage before the whole town, would be humiliating. It would raise a lot of money for charity, and she wouldn't be the only one to be auctioned. She had been assured the clothing would be modest, yet it would still be embarrassing. What could she say? Raising money for charity, and her daughters education, couldn't be refused. 

Putting aside the embarrassment of being on stage before everyone she knew, it was the other little detail, as Margaret called it, that scared her.

***

There wasn't an argument as such. Jane had won around each of the objecting committee members, one by one, leaving just two abstainers.

'Well, I agree, it could be seen as politically incorrect. However, it's for charity, and will be organised in a seemly fashion. You all know the details, so it's time we voted, and moved on,' Jane told the charity committee.

It was a surprise to see Mr McKenzie holding his hand up in support. She wondered if he was one of Margaret's businessman, and knew she would be up for auction. The horrible thought made her look away, instead of thanking him for support. Of all people, he would be the last person she wanted to serve as a maid. They had been fighting each other for months, over every decision the committee faced. He was on the city planning committee too, where they fought it out, or had done up until a few weeks ago.

Her usual prodding insistence was lacking at the meeting, after becoming so submissive in Margaret's house. The others noticed, but were too wary to ask what was wrong. They also noticed the shorter skirt, and tighter blouse. When asked if she was alright, the explanation that she was recovering from jaundice sufficed. 

Her reputation for brooking no opposition, carried the vote through, with just two abstentions. She now saw the two women as frustrated old crones, rather than allies. She didn't realise she had been staring. They suddenly looked worried as though she might chew them out for not agreeing with her ideas.

***

The usual donated junk, and unwanted gifts, had been sold. Now the anticipated highlight of the evening was to begin.

There were two maids, and a young gardener on stage. Jane hesitated when it was her turn to walk on. It was more awkward for her, as she was well known as an upstanding member of the community. Margaret had kept to her word, with each of them wearing decent clothing. The maid style overalls were of a decent length and size. After recent experience, she felt overdressed.

She walked on to find a packed audience. There were some there who remembered the shy girl in college. Others knew her as a stuck up bitch. Many were intrigued as to why this prissy woman had condescended to take part in a maid auction. A weekend working on household chores was on offer. When Jane walked on stage, there were cat calls from the audience, which Jane didn't catch for she was too busy steeling her nerves. The audience laughed good naturedly, so she didn't take much notice. 

The hunky guy was there to offer gardening services. He elected to wear a boiler suit and it didn't look as though he had much else on underneath. The way the women were eyeing him, Margaret wondered if he would actually get to the garden. 

One of the maids was up first. She was a college girl with a pretty face, long hair, and nice legs, what could be seen of them. The coverall didn't reveal much of her figure. A homely cap and apron, didn't suggest anything like the lewd costume Jane had worn on select occasions. Like the other two, she wore rubber gloves, and held a feather duster. 

'Our first maid, Annie, has little experience, but I'm sure you will instruct her as to her duties,' Pinkie said, with a voice full of innuendo. 

The poor girl blushed, and a nervous laugh tottered around the audience. The other maid, Bernice, was ostentatiously waving a feather duster at friends in the audience. Full of confidence and bravado, she promised to make the most money, after the gardener.

The auctioneer didn't waste much time, she launched in at five hundred. 'This is for charity folks! Every penny goes to cancer research. Alright, one-hundred. Thank you, do I see one-twenty,' Pinkie smiled. 

A woman with a big family smiled back, having promised Annie to buy her help for the weekend. A group of guys at the front waived their number in the air, as though it might not be noticed. Annie went bright red with embarrassment. They were laughing and jostling each other, and when the woman raised the bid, they nudged their cardholder to raise the number again.




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 06



Annie silently gasped at the prospect of having to serve these high school eighteen year olds. Like everyone else, she had worked out they had clubbed together to raise the money. She was hardly older than them, but at her age a year meant a lot. Even if they kept to the rules, it would be highly embarrassing to take orders from them, especially as they weren't in her social league. She looked imploringly at the family friend, as the countdown started. 

'Going once, going to the noisy guys, twice.'

At the last minute the family friend held her card up high. Annie breathed a sigh of relief, and the audience seemed to sigh with her. The young guy raised the group number again, with his friends nudging him, as though he needed reminding. Back and forth it went, twenty at a time, until the bid was three-hundred and twenty.

Everyone held their breath, waiting for the woman to outbid the guys. It looked as though she had reached her limit, and wasn't able, or prepared, to donate that much to charity. The auctioneer slowly spoke the countdown, with everyone watching intently for the next move. 

'Going to the bunch of guys, once. Going twice. The lovely young maid, sold to the guys.'

Annie was looking worriedly between the guys, and her mother's friend. On three, the woman reluctantly held up her number. 

Those in the audience supporting the guys moaned. Others let out an embarrassed laugh. The guys encouraged their bidder to continue, so it looked as though they too were near the limit. Annie gave them a cross look, then decided to play for sympathy instead. She just hoped they didn't have enough to outbid the family friend.

The guys saw an attractive college girl, way out of their league, having to serve them at Dan's house, while his parents were away. Their talk before the auction had been fun, and fantasy, yet now it seemed to be coming true. There was a danger though, for they were near their limit. 

Brenda hadn't expected to pay so much for a friend's daughter's help. Her husband was well paid, but this was coming out of her housekeeping. She hadn't told him about this at all, and was worried what he might say. She looked across at the guys who were trying not to leer at Annie. What would they expect from her, after paying so much for her services. Damn! She would have to go higher, and find the money somewhere. She knew Annie's parents were feeling the credit crunch, so didn't expect much help from them.

Annie stared at each of them in turn, trying to get them to understand they were upsetting her. She tried to lock eyes with the last one, but he turned away. It was Danny! His brother was in her study group in college. If Danny was like his brother, she would have a hard time over the weekend. Staying over at the winners house as a maid hadn't been a problem, when she thought it was going to be a family friend. 

The rules were simple. She had to carry out household chores as ordered. Cooking and cleaning for these guys was going to be a pain. She imagined their rude remarks, and having to curtsey to them. It was all too dreadful to think about. She quickly looked away from them. They were looking at her intently, as though she were on stage, naked. 

Damn! What kind of outfit would they make her wear? She didn't like the idea of running around in cut-off's, or a bikini.

Danny pushed his friends arm up, to show the number, despite some opposition from him. The group looked across the auditorium at the woman, willing her to give in. 

'Are there any fresh bidders for this lovely maid. . .' she was unsure of what to say. 

Under the circumstances, she dare not use the rehearsed lines of innuendo. The poor innocent girl was dying of shame already. The family woman was struggling over the bid at four-hundred and eighty. She willed the woman on, and desperately looked around the room for a fresh bidder. Hell! The damn girl was old enough to know how to fend off boys. She would just have to grow up, and put them down.

'Going once. . . Going twice. . . Going three times,' Pinkie shouted at the audience, and hesitated slamming the hammer down

At the last moment the family friend raised the bid. The guys and their supporters groaned in frustration. The more mature in the audience sighed with relief. This time it was all over. There was a struggle among the high school boys for the numbered card, but it was clear they were bust. 

Annie smiled in relief at her owner, and was determined to do her best. She would now be pleased to look after the children and clean house, after that narrow escape.

The crowd settled down eventually, with quiet expectation, when Pinkie announced the next maid for sale. Roberta was a different prospect altogether. She was a dark beauty, and knew how attractive she was. At twenty-two she was more confident than poor Annie. Her friends applauded when she walked forward, and curtsied. 

'A maid for a whole weekend, everyone, how much am I bid? I'll start at three-hundred. A maiden bid of three-hundred, thank you,' Pinkie clearly stated. 

Roberta broadly smiled at the young guys, and silently mouthed, 'No chance.'

The audience laughed outright. A flurry of numbers were raised, and wives nudged their husbands, with cross expressions. The next bid was from Roberta's friends, who again arranged before hand to buy her services. The amount again reached four-hundred and eighty, only more quickly this time. It was between the high school seniors, and her friends. She was clearly confident, and as the countdown progressed to three, she brazenly blew them a kiss. 

They couldn't refuse the challenge and raised their number. She shrugged her shoulders, and looked at her friends. The bid was now over five-hundred. It was a record event already, having passed last years' charity auction total. The men looked at Roberta, wishing they had left their wives at home.

'The lot 102, is going, once. . . The lot 102, is going twice. . . The lot 102 is going, thrice,' Pinkie shouted, while staring at the girls friends.

They responded with a slow raising of their number. Pinkie had her hammer raised, adding to the tension. She appreciated them playing the game, making the auction into great entertainment. Roberta dramatically wiped her brow, as though she were relieved at the outcome. The wink to her friends denied its truth, and received a laugh.

Unexpectedly the guys upped their bid. The friends huddled together, then broke up with smug looks on their faces. Her friends looked across at the guys, then up at Roberta. Something was up! Pinkie could see a slight crease in Roberta's brow. She obviously had sensed it too.

'Lot 102 going once. . . Lot 102 going twice, final warning! Any fresh bidders?' Pinkie asked, trying to drag out the process. A number was raised then quickly withdrawn. Pinkie could see from the platform, a husband being ribbed. Roberta's friends were playing the game too close to the line this time.

'Lot 102, going for the third time. . .' Reluctantly Pinkie slammed the gavel down.

'Sold to number twenty-seven. You can collect your lot on payment,' Pinkie stated, not sure if she hoped they could raise the money, or not. 

Roberta's friends were grinning up at her. She stood scowling at them, wondering if they planned this outcome all along, or was it a spur of the moment decision. As she was led off stage she could see the young guys muscling their way back stage. Could they manage to meet the bid price? If so, they owned her for the weekend. 

The prospect of a bunch of morons teasing her all weekend was not a pleasant one. She was experienced, and brash enough to put them down, and keep them under control. They were coming to get her, and she noticed one of them was a hunky football player. 

The process of paying had been quick and efficient. The guys flocked around her, leading her away in a flurry of exuberance. A flutter of doubt gripped her stomach. Six guys would be flirting, and paying her avid attention all weekend. She had been bought and paid for, and was being taken away to serve them. She could already feel the young masculine hormones, like a heavy weight around her. 

Strong hands were guiding her out to a waiting van. They slid open the doors and piled in behind her. They were courteous enough, so she couldn't complain. She pulled at the overall, pulling it tight around her legs. She sat silently eyeing them, as there seemed nothing to say.

'You're supposed to call me, sir, maid,' one of them teased. 

'Yes, Sir,' Roberta sighed. 

The banter had begun and she found nothing to counter it. She would have to regain her composure and put her foot down, or things might get out of hand. They sat too close on the floor of the van, but there was no room for them to spread out. When they turned a corner, she was squashed by young male bodies.

She realised then it might be her that needed watching. Close up they didn't seem so young and inexperienced, as they did from the stage. Instead of rising above them, she was hunched down between them. It was embarrassing, being tricked into serving these young high school guys as a humble maid. The feeling was replaced by a sense of foreboding.

They arrived, wherever it was they had taken her. The driver slid open the door. Nothing was said. She looked around at the six guys, and each of them stared at her with an intensity that shook her. She imagined them wearing her down with innuendo and flirting, until she gave into one of them. They would all want her then. 

The sixth guy, the driver, took her hand. For a moment she wondered if it would be him.

'Come on, out you get, maid. We have lots of work for you,' he chided her.

She shook her head trying to get rid of the fantasy, wondering what the hell she was getting into. Perhaps it had been too crowded in there, with all those virile bodies touching her. She shook her head again, having caught herself yet again becoming carried away. Maybe she could withstand her friends taunts over abandoning the job, and phone them to collect her. 

'Here's your outfit for the weekend, go and change in your room, maid,' James told her. 

The big handsome footballer handed her something and she wandered off in the direction her pointed. It was only when she got to the room that she looked at the clothes. They had given her a tiny pair of cut-off jeans, and a boob tube. 

'Shit! I'm not wearing this trash!' she complained to the empty room.

The horrible old overall covered her but it was horrible. She didn't want to wear that either. She picked up the shorts. 'I could try them on,' she mused.

She often wore cut-offs, but these were too brief. She pulled on the boob tube and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked so very sexy, it might work. The chumps would cream their jeans when she walked in on them. 'Yes! You guys are in way over your tiny heads. You won't stand a chance against the devastating Roberta,' she laughed. 

She was partly right. The laughing chatter died when she walked in.

'How may this humble maid serve you, sirs?' she asked, with a big smile.

James stepped in front of her, looking confident and self-assured. 

The prepared put down, designed to make his friends laugh at him, died in her throat. He was tall and handsome, with a winning smile. 

'You look absolutely gorgeous, doesn't she guys?' he announced. They all agreed, with compliments covering her.

'It should be us serving you, goddess. It was for charity, and we bought you, so we own you. Now you have to do your maid thing, alright?' he sweetly asked.

His deep voice had her swooning with pleasure. 

'Sure, happy to serve, sir,' she mumbled. 

The guys didn't take their eyes from the bare cheeks, protruding from the skimpy jeans, when saying yes to a beer. The crotch of the jeans pulled tight, showing of a cute bottom, and cut her in two in front. 

The weak sound of her voice surprised her. The dizzy feeling worried her. She looked around the kitchen, seeing it as blur of faces. She somehow made it to the refrigerator to get beer, and handed them around. She shouldn't have held an armful of cans to her breasts. She was painfully aware of the guys admiring her cold nipples, pushing at the wet top. 

They all agreed she was a bargain. Following James advice, they would take it steady, not rushing things.

***

Jed worked out, and liked to show off his muscles. There were wives at the auction without their husbands, which gave them an advantage. The men had wriggled out of attending the function, with better, more important things to do. If they knew how much their wives were prepared to bid at the auction, and what for, they would have been outraged. 

The room became excited as the bidding rose above the five-hundred mark. At the beginning pieces of card with bidders numbers printed on them, had risen like mushrooms, popping up throughout the crowd. Bidders with a wide range in ages were in with a chance, though it was more a matter of trying rather than wining. The married women knew they would have to drop out before the price became serious. It was a nice fantasy owning this young handsome guy for just a moment, before someone else outbid them.

There were flushed faces from excitement everywhere. They still lived the fantasy, only through someone else now, as it became a battle between just two bidders. Nell and Julia were in a battle over the hunky young guy. 

Nell, a widow, thought she deserved a diversion from a humdrum life. A little excitement was well due to her. She imagined him walking into her kitchen from the back yard, bare chest glistening with sweat, showing off rippling muscles. She would feed him, to keep his strength up. The familiar countdown started. Realising it was just a fantasy, the number remained at her side.

He turned around and flexed his muscles. They took in his broad shoulders above a strong tapered back, and a cute bottom. A sigh left her lips, and she raised the card again. Just one more time she thought.

Julia wasn't going to be beaten, especially not after that! The denim overall fit him so well. She had been impressed by the muscular arms, and imagined being wrapped in them for a hug. When he turned around, he seemed to be looking right at her. Her eyes glinted and she couldn't pull them away from him. She had been divorced for a couple of years, and told herself it was a just revenge against a husband who ran off with a younger woman.

Another hundred was added to the bid, making it six-hundred and fifty. Julia won. Reality closed in on her. She was nearing forty, so what in hell was she going to do with a nineteen year old boy. The money could have been better put toward a luxury weekend break, or a new refrigerator. Damn! She had been a fool. Julia pushed her way to the back stage area through a cheering crowd.

Nell scowled at her, though others laughed and threw compliments her way. She heard little of this as she made her way to pay for her so called, garden slave. A rabble of teenage boys were escorting their prize away. The young woman didn't look happy either.

'Cheer up, you've won!' Bethany smiled. 

'Yea! OK! So what do I do with him now?' Julia grimaced.

'He's your slave for the weekend, you'll think of something,' Bethany winked back.

'Oh, sure. It's a great joke. He's too young,' Julia complained, while handing over a cheque.

'I meant in the garden,' Bethany laughed.

'Come on, you have a lot to earn,' Julia gruffly said, to the young man. 

They said nothing on the journey to her house, which she was grateful for. 

'It's dark, so no gardening now. Early to bed, and all that,' she told him. 

'I'm your slave, so, what are your orders, mistress,' he humbly spoke. 

He didn't look so humble though. Why didn't he just go to the spare room, out of her way. She just stood there wondering what to do with him. He was a bit old to be sent to his room. 

'Thank you for donating so much to charity. You need to get your money's worth. I'll run a bath for you, mistress,' he said, trying to fit into the part. She watched him stride down the hall, looking for the master bedroom. He didn't act like a humble slave either. 

'It's OK, no need,' she started to say, but he had disappeared into her bedroom before she could recover her wits. 

Damn! The guy is running a bath. She thought that was just something they did in movies. She rubbed the back of her neck, feeling tired. Well, a hot bath would set her off to sleep tonight. She certainly needed something to relax her, with a stranger in the house.

He appeared from the kitchen as though by magic.

'I've taken the liberty of pouring a glass of wine, and left it by the bath,' he said.

When she just sat there open mouthed, he said, 'May I be of service, mistress,' he said, sounding masterful, despite the words.

She cleared her throat. 'Thank you, I'll go to my room,' she lamely said. 

It was her home, and she was meekly going to her room. Surely it should have been her telling this young guy to go to his room. Slave, servant, or gardener, whatever he was, she should be calling the shots. Somehow he was manoeuvring her instead. 

With one eye on the door she stripped off, wondering if she should wedge a chair under the door handle. 'Don't be stupid, he's just trying to be helpful,' she told herself. Besides, there wasn't a chair, only a stool at the dressing table.

'Wow!' she exhaled. 

The lights were off, leaving a soft glow from candles perched on every free surface. How did he manage to make the place look so magical? He had tidied up a little too. She relaxed. He was gay, that was it. A small bedside table from the spare room was standing beside the bath, with a glass of wine, and a box of chocolates. She had been saving that delicacy for a special moment. 

Sinking into the hot tub under a sea of foam, she realised this was it. The box had been saved as an emergency kit, for when she needed cheering up. Picking a strawberry cream, she found it worked. The money wasn't wasted after all.

A light knock at the door roused her from a dreamy existence. 'Yes?' she murmured.

The door opened and in he walked. She automatically drew her legs together, and covered her breasts. Startled from speaking, she was relieved he was studiously looking away. 

'I took the liberty of bringing a top up,' he said, with a warm smile in his voice.

'I'm not dressed,' she needlessly said. A quick check confirmed she was still covered in bubbles.

'Don't panic,' his deep voice filled the room. 

Looking her in the eye, rather than trying to scan her body, he re-filled the glass. Her whole body stiffened when a hand reached into the bath. 

'It's getting cold. Do you want more hot water, or are you ready now,' he casually asked. 

The bath was almost overflowing now, so how was he going to top it up? Pulling the plug was too much of a risk. Was there an undercurrent to his question, was she ready? 

'I'll get out. Thank you, it was lovely,' she quietly spoke. 

He picked up the robe and held it open for her. His head was turned aside, giving her a modicum of privacy, but not enough. For some reason she couldn't dismiss him, as she should have done. It felt as though she were still in a romantic movie. Sure that he wasn't going to look at her naked body, she stood up. It was a disappointment and a relief, that he kept his head turned away. Of course, how could she compete with a girl his age. Cross with herself for thinking it, she quickly lifted a foot to step out of the bath.

A squeaking noise bubbled from under a foot, and she slipped, slowly falling forward. He caught her, and wrapped the gown around her shoulders. A little yelp of surprise caught in her throat. He lowered her to the floor, still holding her tight. He sat her on the edge of the bath, with the gown wrapped back to front around her.




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 06



On one knee he took hold of her ankle. 'Sorry. Does it hurt?' he asked.

'No, I'm OK, really,' she said, a little too loudly.

He tightly wrapped the big fluffy gown around her, patting it to dry her. He avoided touching anything sensitive, which still left her nervous. From sitting on the edge of the bath, he picked her up. 

'There's no need, I can walk, honest,' she complained.

'I'm your slave, remember?' he reassuringly smiled. 

She was in a big strong man's arms, being carried to her bedroom. This would have to stop right now. He was too young to be a perfect gentleman, so what was going on? Young guys were notoriously self-obsessed. Instead, he really was acting as her slave, just like the historical novels she read. How was she going to cope with the disappointment when he rejected her, because he was gay, or she were too old to be attractive. She told herself to stop it, and get a grip.

'You can see to the bath, and fetch my drink, slave,' she joked, trying to snap him out of the serious mood he was in.

'A massage, first, mistress,' he thoughtfully determined. 

'Well, maybe, err, tomorrow?' she tried to say. 

He lay her on the bed, and turned her over. The gown was rolled back to just cover her bottom. A touch of reality, how the ravishes of time treated a forty-year-old body, would put a stop to all this fuss.

She raised her chin from between the pillows to tell him it wasn't necessary. She couldn't turn over as her breasts would be revealed. She was stuck there until he left her in peace. She felt a dribble of warm oil on her back, followed by a pair of strong hands, smoothing it up her back.

She opened her mouth to remonstrate with him for ignoring her wishes. Instead she moaned. 

'Your neck is stiff, it must hurt.' Hearing a murmured acknowledgement, as a long drawn out, mmm, he continued to rub her shoulders. 

The big hands encompassed her shoulders, with movements seemingly reshaping them. Her whole body began to relax. For some time he smoothed away the aches and pains, from upper back, neck, and arms. His hands slipped over one of hers, between fingers, gripping hard, then softly piping them. He moved to her feet, and she couldn't hold back a whimper of ecstasy.

As his hands slid up a leg, griping it tight, she worried about the gown folded over her bottom slipping away. 

'What the hell!' she murmured into the pillows. 

'Not too hard, I hope,' he softly asked.

'Harder the better,' she said, unable to hide a touch of lasciviousness in her voice. 

Having spent time on her calves, he moved up to her thighs. He had separated her legs to gain access. The thought of him gaining access left her silently giggling. The ache in her neck was gone, to be replaced by an ache down there. He was kneeling on the bed between her feet, with an inelegant view of her body. She was passed caring what he did to her.

Thinking it was over, a sob burst from her lips. Damn! She was going to be left so incredibly needy! A hand gripped an ankle, straightened it slightly, then very slowly slid up the leg. It didn't stop, it carried on up over her bottom, with the other hand lifting the folded gown, then resting it back, as the hand soothed its way to her neck.

Her legs were pressed hard together, under an attempted pretence of decency. What he was doing to her was the most deliciously indecent thing she had ever experienced. Ever so slowly the other side was completed.

'Again,' she whispered, sounding desperate.

The slide of the material covering her bottom was just an additional sumptuous sensation, combining with the tingling from his feather touch to bare flesh. Finger tips slid between her buttocks on the way between her thighs. There was no pretence now. Both hands cupped her front and back, pressing, tickling, teasing, probing. A sharp intake of breath announced the appearance of her clit. Two fingers trapped it for a moment, gently pulling, ringing her bell. 

She began uttering nonsense sounds. Feeling his weight on the bed sparked an alarm bell. She couldn't remember his name, from when it had been announced at the beginning of the auction. How could she let a stranger make love to her! Her legs were parted, with knees pushed sideways. Between panted breaths, she tried to turn over, not wanting to be taken like this. He might even do the unthinkable to her.

He lifted her up, with her weight pushing her head into the pillows. A pillow was pushed under her tummy. What was he going to do to her? She yelled a muffled sound, becoming frightened from the helpless state she was in. Her hands uselessly flapped at the small of her back, trying to stop him.

Something cupped her labia! It sucked on her swollen lips. He was nibbling on her button! Her lips were sucked into his mouth. A finger played with her puckered hole, and another wormed its way into her wet openness, pressing against another sensitive spot.

'Oh! God!' she groaned, on a heavy outrush of breath. 

She cum deeply and wonderfully. He didn't let go, he carried on, and so she did to. A long deep orgasm left her sated and helpless, just laying supine, letting him feast upon her sex. 

***

Mr McKenzie had voted to add slaves to the charity auction. From the moment Mrs Marshal proposed the idea, he was suspicious. It was obviously not her idea, so who was behind it, and how had they talked her into it. On the city planning committee, she had pushed a proposal from Margaret, which again was unusual. Putting the two events together, with a change in her behaviour, he concluded Margaret had something on the woman. 

A week ago a business friend had let something slip. He'd asked Bob if he was bidding for a certain slave in the auction. When the friend said he was bidding on Jane, Bob coughed on the whisky and soda. That she would be in the auction, was not just surprising, it confirmed Margaret had something wild held over the woman. He was determined to find out what it was, and use it himself, to get the chairmanship of the planning committee.

He watched the crowd of bidders. There was a great deal of amusement that this particular woman was being auctioned. Some just considered her too old. Those that knew her, like him, were astonished that she would submit to such an indignity.

The bid figure slowly increased, with the auctioneer dragging it out with small increments, until it surpassed the younger slaves prices. Many in the audience were surprised, but he understood why. 

Jane looked at a small patch of floor at her feet. An occasional glance told her there were people out there who wanted to take her home, to humiliate her. It was obvious the winner would invite friends over to show off the fact this respectable woman, was their maid. Little did they know it would be nothing, compared to what she had endured over the last few weeks with Margaret. They seemed to enjoy the process of bidding on her, as though prolonging the agony was an enjoyable game.

As the bidding slowed, Bob looked around. As expected, fewer bidding numbers were held up. He didn't recognise any of these serious bidders, except his friend. They were determined to win the bidding war. It seemed an awful lot of money for a weekend maid. 

What the select group of businessmen knew, and the crowd didn't, was that she would be a slave, not just a maid. The thought of owning a willing slave, kept them bidding. On top of the amount they were agreeing to openly, for charity, there was a substantial commission to pay Margaret. The bid price had risen to well over a thousand, and with commission at five times that, they would expect a lot for their money.

'Hello Margaret, what a great event! We've raised far more this year than ever before,' Bob said, on meeting the woman. 

'That's good, I'm pleased. The committee has done a good job,' Margaret smiled, through gritted teeth.

She wasn't the auction organiser, but obviously orchestrated this part of the event. She was annoyed at this distraction, needing to study the bidders, obviously wanting to know who won. Of course she did, she wanted to collect a hefty commission. He wondered where that would be going, because it hadn't been mentioned to the committee.

'What do you think of this slave auction? Not too racy for this town?' he asked, positioning himself right in front of her, to block her view of the audience.

'No, no, it's fine,' she said, sounding as though she were shooing away an annoyance. Her hands flapped, trying to move him on.

'It's a surprise Jane is here. Why do you think she volunteered to take part?' he asked.

'Err, well. . . How should I know!' she blustered, and pushed at him. She was becoming more restive with every bid.

Even at fifty, after a year of retirement, he was big and strong, not easily pushed around.

'Hey what's the problem?' he asked, knowing full well what was upsetting her.

When she pushed him again, he gripped an arm. 'I'm a committee member and a steward for this event. I will eject you if you don't calm down,' he calmly spoke.

'Sorry, Bob, isn't it?' she said, with a big smile, aimed right at him. At the same time she pulled her arm against her side, so his hand was squeezed against her breast. 

He was impressed with how quickly she changed from cajoling to flirting mode. Bob would remember this, when he dealt with her in the future. He heard the hammer drop, meaning the item had been sold. He couldn't help smiling over Mrs Marshal being that sold item. That she was now owned like a piece of merchandise, by someone unknown to her, was highly amusing.

Margaret moved to his side, and so did he, then back again, as though they were in some bizarre dance. She firmly placed her hands on his shoulders, and moved around him. He could have stepped in her way, but figured it would make her suspicious.

Margaret made her way through the crowd, becoming more frustrated as people got in her way. They were all gossiping over the bid figure for Mrs Marshal. Who had bought her was a mystery. It was a mystery to Margaret, but she was on her way to find out. They owed her a fat commission, which was going towards Louis' tuition fees.

'So who won?' Margaret asked.

'Everyone's been asking me that,' Pinkie dismissively said.

'Well?' Margaret wanted to know.

'No idea. Didn't recognise him? You'll just have to see for yourself. Liz has been looking after collections. There's a queue, so I guess she's still there waiting to be collected, like all the other stuff,' Pinkie chuckled. 

Margaret wasn't worried about her friend not recognising the final bidder. He was one of the out of town businessmen she had invited. The arrangement had been for them to buy a compliant slave girl, or perhaps a slave woman was more accurate. She guessed it made it all the more exciting for them, to be buying a slave at a public auction. No one else knew of this private arrangement, so no harm done.

Margaret still felt anxious. She was responsible for the stupid woman. It was for her this had been arranged, or at least for her daughter's education. Damn! There really was a long queue. Liz still hadn't got through the junk sold earlier. Buyers probably couldn't tear themselves away from the slave auction section, to be bothered about collecting that load of old tat. 

'Liz!' Margaret shouted over the clamour of voices wanting their stuff.

'You going to help?' Liz shouted back.

'Yea! Where are the, err, slaves?' she whispered, once close enough.

'They've gone,' Liz answered, while accepting a cheque for a state of the art plastic alarm clock. 'Genuine plastic that,' Liz laughed.

'What do you mean, gone!' Margaret asked.

'I got the cheques and let the winners through. The slaves can look after themselves, unlike this stuff,' Liz shrugged. 'Hey! Aren't you going to help out here!'

Margaret ran to the changing room, to find it empty. 'Damn!' she exclaimed, and stamped a foot. 

She hadn't done that since she was a child. Not getting her own way had always been hard, but this was doubly so. She realised it wasn't the uncollected extra cheque that annoyed her, it was not knowing who had taken her away. That was very worrying.

***

The man pushed his way through the crowd, not caring if he stood on a foot or two. He knew exactly where he was going, and filled in the amount on a prepared cheque as he scurried along. He handed it to the harassed looking woman, who was trying to deal with a cluster of winners, demanding their prized objects. Thankfully he didn't have to join the queue.

Liz grunted after looking over the cheque, then pointed behind her, to a side room. The slave was waiting in a changing room, looking bemused, probably in shock.

'I'm here to collect you, slave,' he said. 

It was impossible not to use that mystical word. He had delivered many things, even a baby in the back of a car, but never a slave. He ushered her into the back of the non-descript saloon. She wasn't dressed as he had imagined a slave would be, yet that was just as well, as he didn't want to attract attention. The dark evening was an advantaged. Anyone noticing them would think he was a husband, picking up his wife from a cleaning job.

He helped the woman from the car, and led her to the front door. Unlocking it, he ushered her in to a large kitchen. Taking hold of an elbow, he led her into what he hoped was the study. Obviously it was, so he read out the instructions. 

'Wait here, for your new master. He may be some time, so be seated. Don't touch anything,' he said, in a flat voice, from having to read the prepared lines. 

Nothing was said, or asked of him, from the moment he picked her up. That was a relief. He drove away whistling happily to himself, from earning a high fee for such an easy job.



Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 07



Jane was standing in a room, in a house, she knew not where. The journey had taken some time, though it was difficult to calculate how long, as her mind had switched off. It had been the only way to cope with the demeaning position of being sold as a slave. It was only for the weekend, she told herself, yet again. 

'Only for a weekend!' she laughed, and caught hold of it, before she became hysterical. 

Margaret had given her to a stranger before, though not for money, and only for an afternoon. This time she wouldn't just have a sex session with a stranger, she would be his sex slave, for a whole weekend. Just have sex with a stranger? Damn! Just to think that showed how low she sunk. Her morals had been whittled away while in that damn house with Margaret and her son, Mark.

She reminded herself that it was to raise money for her daughters tuition fees. The thought helped a little. Besides, whatever Margaret told her to do, she would have to go along with, or face the consequences. It was better to forget that Margaret had given her the option of backing out. Much better to blame the horrendous situation on someone else.

Jane sat down on a hard leather sofa. The room was a man's room. There weren't heads of stuffed animals on the walls, but there was a smell of leather, and a faint odour of pipe tobacco. A hint of wood polish too. She wondered what kind of man would buy a slave. Would he be cruel and vindictive. Would he punish her at every opportunity for the slightest infringement of his rules? 

The idea of a harsh master was from a fantasy she had some time ago. It certainly wasn't something she would want to experience for real. Reality! How could being sold into slavery be true? She had been auctioned off to the highest bidder, and was here waiting for her master, so how much more real could it get. She sat there on the edge of the sofa with fears for herself tumbling through her mind.

Margaret's clients had been reasonable with her, even kind and romantic. At least one of them had, that first time she found herself in bed with a stranger. She stupidly thought she was in love with him, just because they had sex. It had all been new and strange, but became easier after that. Now she was waiting to play a sex game with a master, acting as his slave. 

How in hell had she fallen this far from grace? Looking back to married life, she had endured sex, not enjoyed it. Now she did! Oh, how she did enjoy sex!

The sound of a vehicle crunching the driveway gravel startled her out a reverie. She jumped up from the sofa and stood at attention. Her heart was thumping and her breathing rate was in gasps. Damn! She was on fire! The humiliation of being reduced to a lowly sex slave, had her heated up. She trembled with passion. 

Whoever her master was to be, he was in the house! She could hear heavy footsteps on a hardwood floor. Getting closer, louder, filling her tuned ears with sound. Footsteps stopped outside the door. She watched the door handle turn, with eyes wide open, taking it all in. A hand attached to an arm was glimpsed as she dropped her head.

Looking at the carpet was an evasion, as well as a sign of deference to a new master. She was putting off the moment of contact. He was in the room, but not seen. This man would be far more than a husband, who should be a partner, he would be her lord and master. Fear had mostly dissipated, after thinking about this moment nonstop over the last two weeks. Instead of being afraid, she was sexed up, panting for it!

Bob looked at the woman standing in his study, with head bowed, looking very much the humble maid he had purchased for the weekend. He knew her from committees they were both members of. It was hard to believe this self-important woman was willing to be a weekend slave. Yet his friend had been right. Her whole demeanour showed her to be humble, and compliant. Though, it remained to be seen how long that would last.

'Slave, let your master see what has been purchased,' he gruffly stated.

Bob hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but he was nervous, and just let out a rehearsed speech. He watched with apprehension, not knowing if she would obey him, or simply revert to character, and defy him. She could simply walk out in disgust, and cause him no end of trouble.

Instead of turning around as expected, she began popping the press studs on the overall. Opening his mouth to stop her, he slapped his lips shut again. With head down she slipped out of the mean garment, folded it up, and laid it on the arm of a sofa. She then slowly turned around, until she was again toward him, though still with her head bowed.

Seeing her in underwear for the first time confirmed what he had thought. She had a cute ass, and a well developed pair of breasts. The underwear hid little of her figure. A corset hugged her waist, and held up a pair of black stockings, with thin suspenders pressing into her thighs. Her white breasts bulged over the top of the black corset.

'Yes. . .' is all he could comment. 'Very nice, slave,' he eventually added.

She just stood there, letting him ogle her near naked body. He should be doing something, or saying something, to put her in her place. After all the times she had dismissed his suggestions at committee meetings, this was a grand opportunity. Ideas of settling scores vanished on seeing her curvy body. 

He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Think! He told himself. Before he went any further he should confirm where they stood. Appearances can be deceiving.

'Why are you here, slave?' he demanded to know.

'Your slave is here to serve her master,' Jane stated. 

There was a tremble in her voice from being aroused, though he put it down to nerves.

'What will you do for your master,' he asked. 

'Anything master wants. Your slave is a sex slave, Master,' she said, making it sound like a plea. 

She was desperate for sex. It was easy to let herself go with a stranger, for they had no relationship to protect, no history, and no future to think of. Sex was just an immediate fulfilment of a need. 

With that confirmation he relaxed. He still wondered what had happened to her, to slew her morals so sharply from the straight and narrow. If what she said was true, she had lost them completely. 

'Look at me, slave, and tell me again,' he heavily stated.

Jane looked up at her new master. She swayed, and nearly fell at his feet. It was someone she knew, it was Mr McKenzie! Her head swam with fear, desire, and a myriad of emotions consorting to swamp her mind. Why in hell did it have to be him!

'Well?' he demanded.

'Master,' she began, only to falter. 

A dry mouth had to be cleared. For a moment she thought to explain away her presence. How could that be possible? He knew why she was here. He had bought her as a slave! She had just confirmed she was his sex slave!

With eyes fixed on his, unable to tear them away, she repeated what Margaret had made her rehearse. 'Your slave is here to serve her master. Slave is your sex slave, Master, ready to obey masters' every desire.' she hoarsely whispered. 

It was too late now. There was nothing she could do, or say, to get out of this dreadful mess. Why did it have to be him that bought her? After this weekend they would meet, and both would be painfully aware of what happened between them. It didn't bear thinking about. The thought of such embarrassing situations to come, stoked her up. 

'Get dressed slave,' he said, and turned away. 

Going to his desk gave him a chance to calm down. Before the auction he thought it would be amusing to humiliate the damn woman. Instead, she accepted the demeaning position, so he would have to get used to it, and quickly. He had half a mind to give her a moral lecture and send her packing.

With difficulty he brought himself under control, and turned to her. 'The kitchen needs a thorough clean, get to it, and return here when it's done, slave,' he ordered. 

'Yes, master, thank you master,' Jane shyly spoke. 

'Don't forget your clothes,' he said.

She picked up the overall and quickly ran out, clutching it, rather than dress in front of hm.

Well, at least he'd get something out of this, after paying for her. Bob chuckled to himself. As planned, Margaret didn't know who had bought the slave. There was no need to pay the extra commission, so he had her on the cheap. Again he wondered why she was doing this. Was she so very desperate for money, or did Margaret have something on her?

Tomorrow he would do a little digging. In the meantime, he had a slave to keep busy before she had time to think of rebelling. He sat there wondering what would have happened if one of those others had bought her. They didn't know her, and would assume she was a dirty tramp to have agreed to such a deplorable situation. The sight of her in sexy underwear, and the declaration she made, made it very tempting to take advantage. 

Sometime ago, during a coffee break at a meeting, he tried to be friendly, and called her Jane. She became all huffy, and insisted he call her, Mrs Marshal. Now he was calling her slave! Such a turnabout couldn't be resisted, with him inevitably using the term, slave, at every opportunity.

In the kitchen she was busy cleaning when he came to check up on her. 'I want a whisky, slave,' he demanded. 

'Yes, Master,' she responded. 

He led her back to the study, and showed her where the drinks were kept. She poured a single malt, and served him, using an old silver tray he had never bothered with before. She stood beside him, waiting for instructions. 

'Slave, you may return to the kitchen. I'll call you if I need another drink,' he casually said. 

'Yes, master, thank you master,' she said, in return. 

Bob was surprised there were no mutterings, heavy sighs, or even a raised eyebrow, from the way he was treating her. Everyone had noticed she was behaving less strident and determined at the last couple of committee meetings. The gossip had been that it was due to an illness. The way she bent so easily to the role of slave meant it was more than that. It was another mystery to consider.

It was getting late, and since retiring from business, he formed the habit of going to bed early. He strode to the kitchen to interrupt the menial task she was concentrating on. Standing in the doorway he looked around the sparkling kitchen. He could see Jane had lost herself in tidying the cupboards. Knowing what kind of person she was, this was predictable behaviour.

'Slave! It's time for bed,' Bob firmly stated. 

'Yes, Master.' she replied.

Again he was surprised how well she took this instruction. It was very tempting to lead her to the master bedroom. It would be interesting to see if she meant what she said earlier. He still couldn't believe she was prepared to be a sex slave. That was going too far. Besides, he didn't think he could bring himself to take advantage. 

Instead, he opened the door to a guest room, and said, 'Your room, slave. Tomorrow I'll see about getting you some appropriate clothes.'

Jane was surprised. She looked around the room, wondering what she might have done wrong. Even throwing herself into cleaning the kitchen, which it certainly needed, the sexual arousal hadn't been completely calmed. The very idea of being sold to this man as a sexual plaything kept her hot.

Both Margaret, and Mark, had been dressing her up, and now her master was going to. It seemed like forever her clothing was decided by someone else. She wondered what salubrious outfit he would make her wear. She sighed heavily and undressed. 

'Damn! The corset,' she murmured. 

She timidly knocked on the door, again wondering why she had been rejected. She heard him clear his throat, before clearly saying, enter.

'Well, slave, what is it?' he demanded.

'Sorry to bother you, master, your slave needs to remove the corset for bed,' she hurriedly explained. 

He looked her over, liking what he saw, yet reluctant to make a move. The weekend would be over and he would have to live with whatever they did together. The next time they met, she wouldn't be his slave, and might even return to being the harridan they all knew. 

She sat on the edge of the bed, ready for him to undo the fastenings. She trembled a little, in anticipation of his touch. Mark helped her off with the corset every evening, and blatantly groped her. One time he hadn't bothered to release her. He clipped the corset over a set of draws, and took her while bent over them. She had to stay there in the awkward position for ages afterwards, while he snoozed. Thinking about how demeaning it had been, was boosting her sexual charge.

'You'll have to remove the stockings first,' he pointed out. 

'Sorry, master, I forgot,' she said.

He watched her hands trembling with nerves, as she unclipped a stocking, and rolled it down a leg. It was certainly more exciting than reading a book, his usual evening entertainment. 

'You look nervous, slave, what's the matter?' he asked. 

Again he hadn't meant to be so brisk with her. He was about to say, he meant her no harm, and wouldn't take advantage of her, but she interrupted. 

'Your slave is so very horny, master. Sorry, master,' Jane explained. 

So used to revealing intimate details to Margaret and her son, she had blurted it out without thinking. Damn! How could she face the man after all this was over. Working as his maid would be bad enough, but being his slave was terrible, Then she had made it all worse, by telling him she was sexually aroused. 

She almost laughed out loud. What was she thinking! A few words were nothing, compared to what she was doing. She was performing a strip tease before him. He was a member of the planning committee she chaired, and here she was, in his bedroom, putting on a naughty show. Then he would be stripping off the corset, leaving her naked, except for her panties. 

Bob looked her over. He wasn't so worldly wise when it came to women. Give him a machine to take apart, and put back together again, and he was in his element. Examining her more closely, it was possible she was telling the truth. Well, well, well. The stern moralist was really a naughty slut! 

She sat on the edge of the bed, even more nervous with anticipation. He fumbled with the laces, gradually loosening them and unwinding them from the corset. 

'I can see why you need help with this,' he commented. 

He wasn't sure if he was making conversation to ease her nerves, or his. 

He looked at her bare back. It had been pinched tight, and by the look of the skin, for some time. The clothes she wore to meetings hid her figure, so he had no idea her waist was so thin,

'Why do you wear such a tight thing?' he asked. 

'My mistress insists I wear it every day, master,' she said. 

She hadn't realised at first, but the corset was being tightened a little more each day, until a smaller corset was needed. She was on the fourth corset, with a much slimmer waist than before wearing one. In the beginning she had been appalled that her body was being modified by Margaret, though like everything else, she became used to it.

'Thank you, master,' she said, and moved to pick up her stockings. 

He watched her bend over. The crotch of the little panties cupping her lips, which bulged out between her thighs. She made a mess of picking up the stockings, and managed to drop the corset. He had to remind himself to breath. 

She put the corset and stockings onto the chair. She turned around with hands to her sides, with a straight back, thrusting her breasts at him, and head slightly bowed. 

'Is there anything master wants of his slave?' she asked. 

Her breasts were pushed out at him, looking as though they were too heavy for such a slim waist. Margaret had insisted she did certain training exercises. With no idea what she was doing, she obediently carried out the instructions twice a day. It turned out that one was to enhance her bust, and keep it firm. Another was to strengthen her pelvic floor muscles. The result was that she could grip a man inside her more strongly. Though she hadn't associated this with the training yet. Her breasts were already a fair size, and she was lucky they had hardly moved south at all, with or without the exercises.

'Yes,' he murmured. Meaning, yes, she could go. Though, the rest of him was saying, yes, he wanted more.

Jane was pleased with her performance. Margaret was a good teacher. She glided over to the bed, and pulled the covers aside. Silently she slid in next to him, as though it were Mark, and they had to be careful not to wake his mother.

Bob had been mesmerised and now he was shocked. He tried to say something, but his brain was being contradicted by his body. She was busy under the sheet, then pulled her hand out.

'My panties, master,' she said, and presented them to him. 'All of slave is ready for use, master,' she whispered. 

Her whole body was on fire from this new experience of being a sex slave. What would it be like being at a masters mercy? He could do anything to her, without considering her in the slightest. Her limbs trembled, and her tummy quivered. She had never been so worked up.

Bob didn't know what to say, or do. He didn't think she was expecting him to romance her. It was evident she wanted sex, and urgently. Was she a nymphomaniac? What did she mean when she called Margaret her mistress? The more he learnt about her, the more questions he was left with. 

She couldn't wait for him to make up his mind. Every night for the past weeks she had marvellous sex with Mark. It had got so that she couldn't do without it. If she didn't do something now, he might send her away. She slithered down the bed, and leaned over his cock. He hadn't stopped her, and didn't resist when she kissed the head of his flaccid cock. She had found the trouble, and knew exactly what to do to cure it.

At Mark's insistence, she had been practising with a toothbrush to overcome the gag reflex. It was degrading to be developing such an obscene skill just because a young man had demanded it. She was corrupting herself, and that turned her on, so she tried all the harder to achieve it. After awhile, she could suck a banana into her mouth, and part way down her throat.

He hadn't asked her how she was getting on, so she didn't tell him. Now the new skill was being put into practice, for a good cause. Her own satisfaction. Her master's cock wasn't fully erect, but it soon would be.

'What are you doing?' Bob asked. 

It was an unnecessary question, and she was in no position to answer with her mouth full of his cock. He lifted the sheet to see her kiss the base of his cock. He felt her lower lip touch his balls, and her throat gripping his cock. She was breathing heavily through the nose, with the nostrils snorting loudly. She looked up at him, with a distorted smile on her face, and eyes twinkling mischievously. 

Hell! She was enjoying this. The woman was showing off. He had of course heard about it, but never experienced a blow-job before. It was disconcerting to have such an upright decent woman on the end of his dick. He keenly watched her move up his cock, revealing more and more of it. She kissed its head, and swallowed it whole once more. It was fascinating watching her speed up to find a rhythm that suited him. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the wonderful sensations.

'Oh! Yes!' he hissed, through clenched teeth. 

The worry over not being able to perform had left him less than ready. Now he was hard as a rock, very close to the point of orgasm. 

It was deeply disappointing to feel her let him go. It was almost like the emotional loss of someone close. She clambered up his body, pushing his legs together, and squatted on top of him. A hand grabbed his hard slippery cock, fumbled it, then slid it between her lips. He craned his neck to see what she was doing, and watched his cock yet again disappearing into her body. This time it was her vagina absorbing the length of iron. 




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 07



He hadn't made love for some time, though maybe he wasn't now. She was using his cock for her own pleasure. Not that he was complaining, and she did seem desperate for satisfaction. She began to ride him to her own measured pace. He smiled at her, though she didn't see. Her eyes were tightly shut, with lips pursed, and face screwed up with intense concentration.

Bob was deliriously happy. He thought his body had given up on sex. It seemed he could hold back forever, enjoying the sensations, watching her work hard toward an orgasm. She seemed to reach a peak, then it flattened out. She was breathing heavily, sweating, and muttering something, while pushing hard onto his cock.

'Fuck your slave, master! Make your slave cum, please master, please!' she moaned, sounding despairing of reaching nirvana. 

He shifted his feet, pulling them back, lifting her up. He bounced her up and down, unable to thrust into her properly in that position. She seemed to like it, so he continued.

Jane let go a yelp each time his cock nudged her cervix. He was in so deep, filling her up with cock, she should have had an orgasm. She needed to feel used. To feel humiliated. She reminded herself that he had bought her as a sex slave. He knew who she was, or rather, who she had been. How could she ever face him again after this weekend. They would be sure to meet somewhere, maybe at a friend's party, in a mall, or a business meeting, and he would see her as nothing more than a dirty slut.

'Fuck your dirty slut hard, Master! Punish your dirty sex slave cunt, Master!' she cried out, and immediately cum. 

Her whole body shook for a moment, then subsided. Her head dropped forward, and she looked as though she would fall off him. Bob watched the whole process with fascination. He took hold of her and gently pulled her to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held on tight. 

It would be his turn next time, he mused. Hopefully he would have the stamina tomorrow night. She was in a world of her own, with a pleasant smile easing her features. He stroked her long blond hair, and kissed her forehead.

'What are you?' he asked.

She had never been asked this before. It was embarrassing to admit to a fantasy. So used to obeying a command, and after all he was her master, she replied truthfully. 

'I was thinking about being your slave. How much I enjoy it. The sex I mean,' she said, with a voice sounding far away. 

It was impossible to admit to the recent discovery, that humiliation turned her on.

He continued to stroke her hair, until she moved the hand to a breast. 'Slave is all yours, Master. Slaves' body is yours, master,' she simply said. 

Her hand went to his cock and stroked it. 

'Master didn't cum! Slave is so sorry, Master,' she said, with concern. 'How may slave please her master,' she asked. 'Anything master wants, slave will obey,' she added.

He saw the sincerity in her face, and grinned back. 'Some more of what you started,' he said. He left it as half a question, half a suggestion.

'Yes, Master,' she eagerly said, and moved down the bed. 

'Wait, slave. Get a cloth from the bathroom, and clean me up first,' he laughed.

She almost fell off the bed in haste. He put his hands behind his back, and stretched out on the bed. 

'This looks like being the best weekend of my life!' he chuckled. 

***

Next morning he woke up late. He looked around the room for her, with a pang of disappointment. Of course, she had run away home. The madness that brought her here had worn off. Something metal knocked the door, and she walked in carrying a tray. 

'Good morning, master,' Jane said, feeling shy. 

Last night she had been carried away with lust, after the auction, and being in this man's house as a slave. This was a new day, and she was nervous over what it would bring. Recriminations, and disgust might be his reaction, now that he had taken her.

She relaxed a little when he gave her a big bright smile. 

'Good morning, slave,' he returned, with pleasure lighting his features. 

'Your breakfast, master,' she said, and carefully placed the tray on the bed. 'May your slave feed her master?' she asked.

With Mark she had vigorous sex with multiple orgasms, for the first time in her life. This older man had given her a long drawn out, deep orgasm. Was it more satisfying or just different? She had never had a deep orgasm. She had been wondering if it was him, or that she was his slave.

She buttered the hot toast, and spread jam on it. 

'There wasn't much to cook, master. May slave make a list for her master?' she asked.

Bob continued crunching toast, delaying an answer. She was catching the crumbs and brushing away the ones missed. Every time she spoke, the word slave and master was used. Last night she admitted to fantasising over being his slave. If the rewards of last night were repeated, by playing along, then why not.

'Certainly, make your list, slave,' he answered.

The thought of having Mrs Marshal as his slave was strange. They seemed like two different people. The woman he thought of as a pillar of the community, with old fashioned views and principles, couldn't be equated with this dick sucking slut. He shook his head to clear it of the incongruity. 

It would be a busy day with people to phone, and places to go. He refused her help with a bath, to take a quick shower. He was eager to phone contacts to find out why she was behaving this way. What had happened to turn this respectable woman into a slut? 

By mid afternoon Bob found out that her house had been sold, her daughter was in college, and more significantly, she was broke. It took awhile to find out she was living with Margaret and her son. Neighbours don't miss much. One of them thought she was working as a maid. A business acquaintance mentioned she was Margaret's assistant. He also hinted at the assistant being more amenable that Margaret was.

He looked at the phone, still wondering what had happened. She brought him another cup of coffee.

'Master, it's gone lunchtime. There isn't much in the kitchen, but I can make you something from what there is,' she said.

'Ok, that'll be fine,' he said, and went back to phoning around once she left. 

A golfing buddy informed him that Jane's house had been sold. He let it slip, that Margaret handled the deal for her. She was a good negotiator, so it wasn't surprising she helped a friend out. The friend thought it unusual that she had power of attorney over the sale of the house, as well as bank accounts, and investments.

'So what happened to the money?' Bob asked.

'It was all legal, Bob,' he said, sounding defensive. 

'I'm sure it was, Margaret is a good friend, she's been looking after her. I'm a friend of both of them, so tell me,' he insisted.

'Well, just between you and me then. Alright, it went into a trust fund for the daughters education,' he reluctantly imparted.

'Thanks, I owe you one. I was just checking, that's all. No problem. I'll explain next time we play a round,' he said, and hung up.

Jane walked in with a bowl of chilli and crackers. 'Thanks slave, you can eat yours in the kitchen,' he stated.

'Thank you, master,' she dutifully replied

While eating he made another phone call to one of Margaret's neighbours, hoping to pick up some gossip. A woman friend was keen on improving their relationship, so was happy to gossip about the unusual goings on. Jane had been living at Margaret's house since before her house sale. 

The rumour was that she was a live-in maid. Although it seemed unlikely, she had been seen wearing a maids coverall, while doing the chores. It was understandable they were going out in business attire, as it confirmed Margaret had taken her on as a secretary, or something. 

'Margaret was helping her out. It must be difficult after her husband, you know. . .' she said, and let the uncomfortable thought go.

'That's good isn't it? You sound doubtful,' he said, trying to tease out something left hanging. 

'Well, it's nothing really. You know what Margaret's like. Mrs Marshal is a decent woman, on the church council and all, but she hasn't been to church in awhile. She's been wearing rather racy clothes too. I'm not saying Margaret has influenced her in any way, but, Mrs Marshal is a widower and vulnerable,' she gleefully reported.

Bob was surprised that so much information could be picked up by a neighbour. Before she could go on, or worse, invite him to supper, he trotted out an excuse. 

'I promised her daughter I'd lookout for her, though I can't say I've done much up till now,' he lamely said. 'I've got to go, there's a delivery guy at the door,' he quickly said.

Jane came in to clear away. She didn't look too happy to have been sent to the kitchen to eat, though he didn't notice. He went and sat on the sofa, looking thoughtful.

He remembered arguing over something at a meeting, around three months ago. She had won that as usual. He couldn't remember seeing her since then. Apologies for her absence had been recorded in the minutes, ever since. Then she came back looking and sounding different. Maybe the easiest thing would be to ask her what she had been up to, over the last few weeks.

'Come here, slave,' he heavily stated.

Jane became worried that she had done something wrong. Of course! All those times she had opposed his ideas at planning meetings. Was he going to get his own back, by spanking her like a naughty girl? She was his slave, so he could do anything he liked with her. After last night she thought they were getting on so well. She stood before him looking down at her feet, feeling vulnerable, like a pathetic schoolgirl, submitting to a stern lecture from the principal. 

Not now! she thought. The familiar feeling of arousal was unwelcome, and she would become all the more stoked-up after a spanking.

'What have you been up to at Margaret's house?' he sternly asked.

A look of surprise crossed her face. The dreadful idea of admitting all that had happened over the last few weeks was appalling. More so than having a colleague putting her over his knee for a thrashing.

'Come on, slave! You have to tell me, your master demands it,' he said.

Reluctantly she put together a garbled story about being a maid, and Margaret's assistant at business meetings.

'I know all about that. You're short of money for your daughters education, but there's more to it than that. What hold over you does she have?' he insisted. 'Tell the truth because I know more than you think,' he bluffed.

She couldn't help letting it all out. A great relief to be sharing the burden of guilt overcame the unwillingness to confess her sins. The party, the boys, the son, the accusation of theft, everything tumbled from her lips. Even the increasingly sordid affairs with Margaret's clients was admitted. Finally she told him about sleeping with Mark every night.

She had hardly been aware that he sat her down on his lap. He was cuddling her, wiping away the tears with a napkin.

In the past he could take an apprentice behind the workshop and give him a thump. In recent years he had to listen to their excuses why they couldn't do as they were told. The only experience dealing with tears was with his daughter, after her mother died. 

'Slave is just a dirty slut, master,' she whined. 

'No, you're a wonderful slut,' he tried to joke. It did no good, so he tried again. Tightening his grip on her, he said, 'You're my special slave, and I'm your master. It's my job to look after you, and I will,' he soothed.

'I'll have to go back there, and live with them. It'll just get worse, I'll get worse,' she complained. 

'You can't go back there,' he said.

'There's nowhere else, I'll have to go back,' she said.

'No. You're my slave, and will always be my slave,' he reassured her, and kissed her wet eyes.

'Margaret will tell everyone what I've done,' she pointed out, sounding sorry for herself. 'I can't let that happen, Louise will never speak to me again.'

He had to think quickly to put an end to this outburst of emotion. It wasn't doing her any good, and certainly not him either. He guessed women needed this sort of thing, but why, he couldn't figure. Talking through problems was a way of working toward a solution, yet women seemed to complain about it, then do nothing. 

'I bought you as my slave, so Margaret can't complain,' he said.

'That's just for the weekend. Come Monday, it will be just the same,' she said, sounding resigned to her fate.

'No, you're not going back. I paid a large sum to keep you. It's for your daughter's education fund. You belong to me now,' he embellished the lie, from what had been learnt that morning. 

'What do you mean?' she slowly spoke, not wanting to understand what was meant.

'I made arrangements with Margaret, to buy you, permanently,' he said, hoping she would accept the bold lie.

'Oh,' is all she said.

This was something new to think about. The more she thought about it, it dawned upon her that she had been Margaret's slave, and Mark's sex slave, all along. So, what was the difference now? Her master was kind and considerate, and she really believed he would look after her. It was all too much to think about now, with emotions running through her like a torrential storm. Her mind was flooded with thoughts, spilling over into tears.

'Do you really think she will keep my grubby secrets to herself?' she asked.

'I paid enough to keep her quiet,' he assured her.

'Thank you, master,' she said, hoping this was a way out of the mess. 

How he was going to approach Margaret, he had no idea, but that wasn't what she wanted to hear right now. He would find some way to make things right. They sat quietly for a moment, both wondering how this would work. 

'What will happen when you don't want me anymore? Where will I go? What will I do?' she quietly asked.

'If I get fed up with you, I'll sell you, slave. So behave yourself, and do as you're told. Be a good obedient, slave, and cheer up,' he chided her, hoping to make her laugh. 

Of course she wasn't a real slave, there was no such thing. In the Sunday papers there were articles about women brought into the country, ending up as slaves, but that was different. At least she had stopped crying, though she still looked weepy. He playfully patted her bottom, and was surprised.

'Where's your panties?' he asked.

'They're in the wash, master,' she apologised.

At last something practical to deal with. 'You need something to wear, I don't want my slave wandering around half naked,' he joked. 'Though it's a pleasant idea,' he added.

She gave him a weak smile, trying hard to recover her composure. It was especially important to keep him happy, just to escape Margaret, and her son.

'I'm sorry, master, I don't have anything to wear,' she pointed out.

'Come on, slave, let's see what we can find for my sexy slut,' he cajoled her.

This sounded like the usual refrain of a wife. However, it was true, something would have to be found. His daughters room hadn't been tidied, or even opened for months. He left her to find something, it would at least keep her mind off things, for awhile. 

Going through an underwear draw Jane was reminded how this situation had started. Those panties in the wash were bought by Margaret. It seemed far longer than a few weeks since she last wore her own, comfortable underwear. Since then she had worn all sorts of sexy lingerie. 

He watched her delectable bottom flexing and changing shape, as she bent and stretched in the wardrobe. She was sorting the clothes as she went, taking her time, but he didn't mind. He could lay on the bed all day watching her naked body. 

'May I wear this master,' she asked, holding up a light summer dress, patterned with pastel blue flowers.

'It looks nice,' he said, with a smile.

'Yes, master, thank you master,' she answered. 

'What now?' he said.

'The corset, master,' she said, hoping he wouldn't be displeased.

'Very well,' he sighed. 

Like a wife, she took ages to get ready, whereas he was ready by standing up, and grabbing his keys. 

A wife? What was he getting into here? He had promised to look after her forever, so did she take this to mean they were an item? They were sleeping together and she was keeping house, so they were something. He had promised himself never to get married after Helen died. If it all got too much, he could always send her back to Margaret.

The corset was laced tight, and the dress tugged down her body. At last she was ready.

Looking her over, he liked what he saw. Damn! She was hot! It was best not to get too carried away, he reminded himself. The woman had been sleeping around, and admitted to being uncontrollable. Had she admitted to everything? She admitted sleeping with Margaret's son every night for the past three months. What in hell had they got up to every night? He didn't want get close to her, and end up looking a fool.

'Don't forget, slave. If you displease me, I'll sell you on,' he heavily stated. 

Of course that was impossible, but it was obvious she liked to play this fantasy game. It was just meant as a warning not to take advantage. Though he was unsure what that meant. After all, she was cooking, cleaning, and providing great sex. Who was taking advantage of whom?

'Yes, master,' she quietly said. 

It was a daunting prospect, being sold to a stranger. She had accepted being auctioned off to the highest bidder, but that was for a weekend. Without her knowledge she had been sold into permanent slavery. Even though slavery wasn't legal, she hadn't anywhere to go. In theory she could just walk from here to be free. It would be a long walk to town, but where would she live? What would she do for money? It felt as though she were caught in a spiders web of insurmountable problems. 

Jane dropped to her knees before him. 'Master, your slave promises to be a good slave. An obedient and willing sex slave, master,' she said, trying hard to sound sincere. 

Bob patted her head, as though she were a pet. She looked up at him with wide open eyes, imploring him for something. 

'What do you want?' he asked.

'To be your sex slave, master,' she whispered, on a deep sigh.

Only now did he realise how sexed up she was. She gripped his cock through the trousers, but he wasn't ready. He felt way out of his depth. Why had he made such a rash promise to look after her? Feeling sorry for her, and the glorious sex last night, trashed his better judgement. 

'Clear up this room, slave,' he dismissively ordered. 'I'll see to you later,' he added.

Jane threw herself into the job, to help calm herself down. Like a whirling dervish, she span around the room picking up his daughters belongings, abandoned on the floor, and every furniture surface. Dirty clothes, and those needed ironing were stacked. Objects were put away, ornaments were arranged on a window sill, and a bedside cabinet. 

She looked outside with the look of a prisoner, wishing for a pardon. It was an ideal location for a man. No neighbours, no noise, a fishing lake, and trails for hiking. When she cleaned his boots, they didn't look as though he walked far. Getting back to the chores she sorted through draws, adding to the pile of old clothes waiting to be trashed. 

'Ooo! What have you been up to?' she said to herself. 

The daughter hid a vibrator at the back the panty draw. The batteries were flat. Having tidied the kitchen, she knew were a pack of new ones were. This might be a way of surviving with her new master. At last finished, she picked up the pile of soiled clothes for the washer. 

Bob sat in his den, trying to work. He was researching local history, to keep his mind active. It was impossible to concentrate. What was he to do with the damn woman? She was out of control, and he couldn't cope. After making a promise, how could he go back on it? Sending her back to Margaret wouldn't help, as it would lock her into this immoral state. Discipline. That's what she needed.




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 07



Jane walked into the room and stood beside him. She was used to this from when she served Margaret. He turned to face her, looking stern. It was imperative she please him, from fear of being sent back to Margaret, or sent away without anywhere to go. Worse still, he might sell her to a stranger. She could end up anywhere, with anyone! He was a decent man, prepared to look after her, whereas another master might mistreat her.

She tried to dismiss the improbable idea, especially as it was stoking her up. She realised her arousal was the reason she was considering the preposterous idea of being sold as a slave. She just couldn't help it. It had been a favourite fantasy, and here she was living the bath-time dream. Though it wasn't quite like her daydreams, it was real. 

'Have you finished your chores, slave?' he asked. 

'Yes, master,' she smartly responded. He was thinking of something for her to do. Before he sent her away on some errand, she made an offer, 'May slave, dust this room, master,' she asked.

'Err, sure,' he agreed, figuring it would keep her busy.

He studiously ignored her, for a short while. He glanced up to see her stretching to reach the top shelves of a book case. Stocking tops were on view, with a glimpse of that cute ass, just the bottom quarter moons. It was a tantalising sight. She bent to pick up something, showing off everything. Again, he marvelled at the bulge between her thighs. Even before she became aroused, her lips were large and fleshy. 

The white panties were nothing more than a purse between her thighs, with nothing covering her bottom. He reminded himself she needed to learn discipline, and self-control. Maybe that bare bottom needed spanking. There were other means of instilling restraint, and patience. Making her wait for what she wanted, was looking like a non-starter.

He watched her bending and stretching all over the room. Putting books back on shelves, picking up abandoned notes, putting magazines in the rack. She seemed to be very interested in straightening pictures, and the arrangement of his golf trophies. 

He quickly looked down to the page he had been studying, when she approached. 

'May your slave take her place at masters feet?' she casually asked. 

Unsure what the she had said, he nevertheless nodded his head. He watched her get down on the floor and crawl under the desk. This was playing the slave game too far. He was worried she had been driven mad, and might be dangerous. He sat quit still.

He watched her unzip his trousers, and deftly pull out his cock. It didn't take much effort, as it sprung out, erect and eager to play. He watched as she extravagantly licked her lips, then kiss the head of his cock. Her head leaned forward, for another kiss, this time sucking on it, while handling his sack. 

He didn't ward her off, or even complain. Watching her clean the room had him wanting her. The way the hem bounced up and down when she was polishing, bent over a low table, was tantalising. It was the expectation of what was there, rather than what could be seen.

She stopped with the head of his cock between her lips. Her eyes were wide with expectation. It looked as though she were waiting for permission for something. Whatever it was, she could do it, anything she liked. He intently watched her mouth engulf his hard-on. Her full moist lips unhurriedly slid down its length, inch by inch. Their eyes were locked, with her impressing upon him a single thought. 

She seemed to be saying, "Slave is here for your pleasure, master." She continued the long journey down to the base of his cock, swallowing it all. He needed her to speed up, but the journey continued slowly, almost painfully slow and deliberate. 

Not thinking he could possibly orgasm for a long time after last night, it was a surprise to be nearly there. She stopped, with just the head of his cock lightly poised between her lips. She looked up at him expectantly. She let go.

'Please master, slave needs master to fill her cunt,' she begged.

On hands and knees, she looked every bit the dutiful sex slave, begging to be fucked. He was annoyed from being manipulated so easily, and needed her to complete his need. 

'Later, slave. Finish off your master,' he ordered. 

He justified the harshness in his voice by reasoning she needed to learn patience.

Reluctantly she sucked his cock into her mouth, and began to bob her head back and forth, up and down his rod of iron. The faster piston like action, with increased suction, soon had him spurting his cum down her throat.

The first time Mark did this in her mouth, it made her retch. She became used to the taste, though with him, she could tease him back to readiness. It meant a much longer session, before he cum in her cunt. It was a strange sensation, feeling his sperm pumping directly into her belly. At least like this, she didn't taste it. It was also a satisfaction that Mark had prepared her, yet he wasn't reaping the reward.

It was frustrating knowing she would have to wait for some time, before he would be ready to satisfy her. She really did need sex, and to feel his cock inside, ramming home into her cunt. At that moment she missed Mark's youthful exuberance and stamina. 

Bob sat back in the chair with eyes tightly closed. His slave had licked him clean, and put away his flaccid member. He looked at the desk, wondering how it would be to have her like this at committee meetings. He imagined her shuffling around on her knees, under the long table, moving from one member to another, sucking and licking with gusto. If he ordered it, would she obey such a demeaning act? The once proud woman had been stripped of all moral decency, so maybe she would. After all she had gone through, this despicable state was understandable. But, to become a complete tramp? That was puzzling. 

She was hot. Sizzling like bacon on a griddle. She couldn't stand still, with nervous tension griping her, being driven by sexual arousal. The sexual need was winding her up like a clockwork toy, with the spring threatening to bust. 

'You used a very bad word, slave,' he intoned. 'I want you to behave, and not use bad language in your master's home. Cunt is not acceptable,' he explained. 

Jane stood looking bemused and other worldly. She was having a problem focusing, and listening to him. She reached for her crotch.

'Stop that, right now, slave,' he ordered. 

When she didn't, he pushed her head over the desk, and held her down. He lifted the dress to reveal a bare bottom. He was sure these weren't the panties she put on, when he was in the bedroom. She had been playing with him, trying to tease him into taking her.

He slapped her bottom hard. 'You will, behave yourself, slave. You will learn patience, and to take care of your master first,' he clearly stated. 

'Please, master, don't spank your slave, please,' she implored him. 

He didn't realise what he was doing to her! He was adding petrol to the flames! Like a fish out of water, her vagina was gasping for a cock. Any cock would do! She remembered the vibrator tucked away in his daughter's bedroom. It was a life saver. She thought of it tucked away inside her, while imagining a man taking her. It calmed her enough to stand before him, without completely falling apart.

'Go to your room, slave, and wait until I call you,' he said. 

When she left the room, he blew on his red hot hand, trying to ease the sting. 

'Damn it! My hands have softened up since retiring,' he complained. 

From her reaction, he considered she was used to it. Had Margaret shaped the woman's behaviour by spanking her? Surely it couldn't have been Margaret's son? A teenager spanking a mature woman would have been disgraceful. The possibility of a scandal hung over her, and also the continuous humiliations experienced at that house, all added up to keep her at heel. Was that the answer? He sighed heavily, and picked a book at random from a shelf, wanting to take his mind off these confusing ideas.

Jane lay on the bed with legs spread, teasing her vagina with the vibrator. Earlier she hid it away, without looking at it properly. Now it had her full attention. There were two small nozzles at the end, one larger than the other. She soon figured they weren't meant to be optional, rather they were designed to be used together. 

One was pulsing over her clit, while the smaller phallus vibrated against her asshole. She didn't like the idea of having something enter there. The vibrations were surprisingly nice, so she angled the little one to stimulate her little puckered hole. The pulses against her clit were better. Already heated up from the spanking, she was aroused enough to penetrate her pussy. 

Damn! When she tried to push it in, the little phallus pressed into her bottom, so she had to pull back. It became a vicious circle, of pushing and pulling, wanting to feel something inside, yet not wanting to penetrate her bottom. Each time she see-sawed, the penis was rubbing back and forth across her clit. Her mind was saying no, and her body was demanding satisfaction. As usual, her body won.

Her whole body stiffened, holding it very still, not daring to move. She had buggered herself with the little phallus. It felt big inside, and she had shoved it up hard, all the way. The other phallus wasn't as big as a real one, but that too felt big. Her vagina had clamped around it, so the pelvic exercises had paid off. She lay there a moment, getting her breath back, and letting the pain subside. 

Pulling it slowly from inside both places, the devil instrument accidently rubbed her 'G' spot, before she could extract it. Unable to resist the intense sensation, she slid it back as far as it would go, pushing hard. As much as she hated the idea of buggering her virgin ass, it was impossible not to fill her pussy. Her vagina clamped tight around it, when at last she began to orgasm. 

Her legs fell open, with arms falling to her sides. She lay back breathing heavily, at last replete from a deep orgasm. Her tummy continued to flutter, with both phalluses deep inside. It was the first time using a vibrator and it worked! The deep orgasm was wonderful. She felt as though she were floating above the bed.

Not wanting to feel empty, she left it in. 

'I want a cuddle now, but you can't do that can you!' she chided the devil machine. 

She chuckled to herself, amazed at this new discovery. It made her more independent, and that was good. She clenched and unclenched her muscles, feeling it sliding from inside her. She gave a final squeeze, for it to slide onto the bed. She reverentially picked it up, wiped it on the sheet, and kissed it. 

'My special little man,' she whispered. 'Mark, that's your name. Maybe you can help keep my passion under control, Mark,' she said. 

If that were possible, she might be able to free herself from this awful dependence on men. It was partly the uncontrollable passion that kept her submissive. One less burden might help free her.

Jane spent the rest of the weekend, more calmly, waiting for her master to use her. However often she used the vibrator, she still needed a man. At night she fell asleep in his arms. During the day she became worked up, and teased him, until sent to her room. He hadn't guessed she welcomed the banishment, so she could play with Mark, her energetic new lover.



Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 08



Margaret was fuming. All morning she ran to the phone as soon as it rang. The agreement was to bring Jane back Monday morning, and it was one in the afternoon. 

She hadn't seen who it was that won Jane at the auction, and the cheque hadn't revealed who it was either. It was a business cheque, and the business was a new set-up. She phoned the bank first thing, to find it could be cashed. That wasn't the point. She was worrying over not knowing who had her, and even more worried over what they were doing with her. The stupid woman was now so submissive, and became so easily aroused, she would do anything a man wanted.

Mrs Marshall, the highly moral lady, was no more. Over the last few weeks, she had degenerated into a complete slut. She shouldn't have let her son use her, though it had to be admitted, her immoral state was more from how Margaret treated her. She had used her as a whore, to win business contracts. At the time it had just been a slow progression, from teasing, flirting, then going a bit too far. Hell! Who was she kidding. She had enjoyed pushing the woman into the gutter.

It would be a tricky conversation, phoning the businessmen invited to the auction. There were five of them, all bidding to take her away for the weekend, as a slave. It seemed a good idea at the time. Damn! She put the phone down again. 

Picking it up, she dialled the first on the list. 'Hi Paul,' she said, trying to sound light hearted. 

'Hi Maggie! That was a great Friday night we had,' he said, with feeling.

'Maybe you enjoyed it, but I don't remember you and I. . . ' she said, going quiet.

'No I meant, hey, stop teasing. When you and I get it together, you'll remember. The auction was great, very exciting. I owned a slave for about five minutes, until someone knocked me out of the bidding war. 

'Glad you enjoyed it,' she commented.

'Still, the money I got together will do for a vacation. Next time give me more warning, so I can save up,' he told her.

'I promise. Glad you enjoyed it. Maybe next time you'll win,' she said.

'When you gave her to me in the hotel, well, she's a hell of a sexy bitch. A whole weekend would kill me,' he laughed.

'Thanks for the interest, got to go,' she pressed, trying to get away.

The other calls were much the same. All the men she invited to the auction were in their offices, and not with Jane. They sounded honest about losing the bidding war. It didn't rule any of them out, so she was back where she started. Assuming they were telling the truth, a complete stranger had her. Maybe one of them confided the secret to a friend.

Margaret raised her voice for her maid to fetch a drink, then slapped her lips with a hand. She fixed herself a drink, looking tired and worried. 

***

Jane only half believed Bob was going to keep her. As Monday night arrived, it confirmed he had purchased her from Margaret for longer than a weekend. To cover Louis's tuition fees, and expenses for the full four years, it had to be a large sum. How would she ever pay back anything at all, let alone that much. In return she would have to keep to the bargain, and do as she was told. 

He said it was forever, or until he became fed up with her, when she would be sold on to another master. Surely this was an empty threat. He had bought her from Margaret, so someone else might be interested if she was put up for sale. It was another reason to try her utmost keep him happy.

It was curious and unexpected how easy it was to slip into being his obedient slave. Strangely it was comforting to accept the role of slave, even if it was a permanent way of life. Margaret said she was a natural submissive, so maybe that was why it felt so comforting to serve him. She certainly felt the need for a man to look after her, and not just for the sex. It felt so acceptable letting him make all the decisions.

She snuggled into his arms, laying her head on his chest. She liked the way he stroked her long hair, and kissed her forehead, while murmuring nice things. She had a rosy glow to her face, from making love. It was making love, rather than just having sex, as it had been with Mark. 

He was twenty years older, so appreciated her as a young woman. He wanted to please her. She lifted her head to gaze at him, with a curious expression.

'How long am I to be your slave, Master?' she timidly asked.

'Forever,' he definitively said.

'Thank you, Master,' she smiled, and laid her head on his chest. The thought of being cosseted from the harsh realities of life was comforting.

For a moment he was happy that such an attractive and sexy woman wanted him. An uncomfortable feeling crept over him. Everything was too perfect. He figured she was settling in to his home rather too easily. She was welcome of course, but playing at being a slave wouldn't last long. She would want more and more, until marriage crept into the equation. 

'I may wish to sell you on, if I become dissatisfied with you,' he warned, then felt churlish, so playfully slapped her bare ass. 

'Has master's slave been naughty?' she teased. 'Or, does master want to play?' she asked, with a put-on innocence.

'It's a warning for my slave, to remember her place. I'm sure there's plenty of men out there ready to buy a sexy blonde slut,' he laughed, and lightly slapped her bottom again. 

'Yes, master, sorry, master,' she mischievously replied. 

'Where are you going?' he asked, sounding worried that he might have upset her.

'To slave's place, master. Where a sex slave belongs, master,' she pointed out, trying to sound serious. A cheeky grin was trying to escape from around her mouth and was revealed in her eyes.

She backed down the bed, parted his legs, and rested her head on his used cock. 

'You've got cum in your hair,' he warned.

'Is it masters cum?' she innocently asked.

As he reached for her, she sucked his cock into her mouth. Looking up at him with big innocent eyes, it was obvious she had won. He laid back with both hands behind his head, as lord and master of the house, letting his slave girl suck his penis. She gave him a distorted smile. The head of his cock pushed out a cheek, though, as it grew, it would be sucked down her throat. 

She wondered if she could get him to cum a second time tonight. Thinking of ways to keep him happy, she considered the vibrator. She could put on a show for him, though that would be dangerous, because he might be angry she had it. Of course, he wouldn't want to know it was his daughter's toy.

She had become used to the little phallus invading her bottom, though it still felt wrong. In the future it might be necessary to offer her Master her bottom, to keep him interested. The little phallus no longer hurt, so maybe she had stretched herself. It would have to be worked on even more, if she was going to give him her virgin ass.

'Hell!' Jane moaned, around the penis in her mouth. 'I've really become a dreadful slut to be planning that,' she acknowledged.

'What was that?' Bob sleepily asked.

***

Tuesday morning Bob woke up before his slave, which was unusual. He knew he had, as she was asleep between his legs. The uncomfortable position was probably what woke him. He lifted the sheet, to find her in a foetal position, with his cock in her mouth. Her nose wrinkled, she suckled heavily on his cock a few times, then relaxed. The suction was powerful. He smiled at the most enjoyable start to a day. 

He pulled the pillow up for a better position to watch her. His cock was growing in her mouth, pushing its way deeper by the second. It bulged out a cheek, until she sucked on it. She choked, almost waking up, then swallowed it. It looked as though she were feeding on it. Her eyes flickered open.

'Good morning, slave,' he smiled at her. 

By way of greeting, she began to bob her head up and down his rod. Ever so slowly, exaggerating every move, she gobbled him up. Watching a sexy young woman deep throat him was awe inspiring. Enough to have him cum, yet again. After last night he thought it would take a week to recover. She was certainly keeping him young and healthy.

'After that, your master owes you breakfast,' he said, after recovering his breath.

'Oh! No! Slave must serve her master,' Jane hurriedly spoke.

She merrily kissed his cock and slid off the bed. Without getting dressed she hurried to the kitchen, to prepare a full breakfast. Taking it to her master on a tray, she helped him sit up, and sat by contentedly watching him eat.

Between fork full's, he smiled at her. 'My slave is spoiling me, I hope you're not fattening me up for Christmas,' he quipped. 

'My master needs to keep his strength up,' she joked back.

'So, your master needs to keep his slave happy?' he asked.

'Yes please, master,' she cheekily returned.

'A happy slave, makes a happy master, I assure you, slave,' he told her, and downed the last of the orange juice. 

He hadn't called her Mrs Marshal, or even Jane since she arrived. It felt too awkward to remind her who she had been. They had settled into the roles of master, slave, and it was working out for both of them.

'No, I can get ready without my slaves help. You need to get ready too. We're going shopping,' he informed her.

'Yes, master,' she thoughtfully said.

Seeing she was worried, it occurred to him she really didn't have anything decent to wear. That wasn't it. She was worried about meeting someone she knew.

She was wearing the only one of his daughters dresses that fit. Around the house it was alright, though outside it was too everything. Too tight, short, low cut, and thin. It hugged her body like a sheath. The suspenders down her thighs were showing, and her breasts were pushed up into a deep cleavage. 

'Did you find a coat anywhere?' he asked, already knowing the answer. 

She had cleaned and tidied up the whole house in a short time. It was another of her valuable skills, as far as he was concerned. 

'No, master,' she answered. 

They drove to a mall in the old car he had owned for years. He could well afford a new vehicle after selling his engineering business, but it was big and comfortable. He knew the engine inside out, and it was easy to service and repair. When friends joshed him over it, he told them, there was no way he would buy one of the new foreign cars. They were too complicated to fix.

'What should I say if we meet someone,' Jane asked. 

She was nervous over the possibility of encountering someone she knew. Even someone he knew would cause embarrassment. 

'Don't say anything is best, just smile. If it's a guy, they'll be too busy ogling your breast to hear what you say,' he said. 

He was trying to lighten her mood, and failed miserably. A tinge of jealousy struck him, when thinking of men looking at her. The hem was far too short. When Cathy wore the dress it wasn't so short then, so why now? If he asked, she would have told him it was her large breasts, though he still wouldn't have understood.

The penny dropped. He realised she was afraid of meeting someone, so carried on past the usual superstore. There were plenty around, so he kept driving until they were well out of town. The further they drove, the more she relaxed. In the store he was relieved to see a clothing section for women.

'Go get yourself something to wear. I'll work through your list. Get whatever you need, OK, slave?' he smiled.

'Thank you, master,' she smiled back. 

Jane wanted to give him a kiss and a hug, but thought better of it. There were only a couple of other women looking around. Their expressions were a reflection of how she looked. Trashy. She ignored them by concentrating on the racks of dresses. What did he mean by, "get anything you need"? Her master had already spent a lot of money on her, and she knew he was careful with money. 

Trundling a cart along to join him, she trotted out the usual excuse for buying too much.

'I didn't know what to buy, master. I'll take back what you don't like, master. These were on sale, two for one. These are for you, master,' she said, holding up an underwear set.

'I don't think they'll fit me,' he quipped, to cover his embarrassment. 

'I can't tell what the dresses are like when you're not wearing them,' he pointed out. 'You might as well change into one of them, and wear it home,' he suggested.

'Yes, master,' she happily replied.

When the chores were nearly completed, she returned wearing the dress with labels dangling. 

'You look much better, slave. The colour, whatever you call it, suits you,' he approved.

He was rewarded with a big happy smile. 

'What items should I take back, master,' she said, not looking so sincere at all.

'If they all fit, keep them all,' he dismissively said, with a shrug of his shoulders.

Jane reached up on tiptoe, to give him a big sloppy kiss on the lips. 

'Thank you, master,' she said, more loudly than before. 

Bob looked around to check if anyone were close enough to hear. 

'These women things on the list, you'll need to sort them out, I've no idea what you want. There's a coffee shop somewhere, I'll meet you there,' he gruffly said, and walked off.

Jane watched his retreat with a sense of warmth for him. The big man was embarrassed over so many little things. Her husband had kept her short of money, meaning she had to mend and make do with clothes. Toiletries had to be managed somehow from the meagre housekeeping. He always checked the list's she made, and would question items bought outside of the usual.

In her own warm comfortable zone, she meandered through the checkout. Handing over his store card, she received the bill. All done, she hurried to join her master. She handed him the check, out of habit with her husband.

'What's this item here?' he asked, with a deep frown. 

She caught her breath, and the warm feeling evaporated. The familiar depressing arguments were starting all over again. He took a hold of a label still attached to the new dress.

'There must be some mistake! This is your label, your barcode. See, it's on the check,' he said, shoving it under her nose.

'Sorry, master,' she said.

He leaned close over the table. 'It's not your fault. Either the item has been heavily discounted, or I've bought a very cheap slave. Are you a cheap slut, slave?' he asked.

Deep in thought, she hadn't kept up with what he was saying. A slight glimmer of a smile played around his eyes. His words were dragged into focus. Wanting to laugh loudly with joy, she instead played along. She looked at the bill, then at the label dangling from her sleeve.

'This is my label, and it matches the bill, master. It seems you have bought a very cheap slut as a slave, master. Your slave will try to please you master, but she's such a dirty little bitch, her behaviour may shock you, master,' she said, trying hard to keep a straight face.

He looked at her thoughtfully, at her label, and the bill. 

'Maybe I should take this slave back to the service desk, it's bound to be faulty. I don't want to drive all the way back here, when I find its not suitable,' he teased.

'Yes, master, I'm sure they'll give you a refund,' she quickly returned.

He sat there drinking his coffee, pretending to consider the options. 

'Are you a trained slave? What are you capable of, slave?' he asked.

She put down her cup, still managing to hold onto a serious expression.

'Slave is fully trained as an obedient and submissive slave, master. What master says, is law. Slave is proficient at housework, and cooking, but slave's speciality is sex, master. Slave has kept all past masters happy in the bedroom, and every other room as well,' she said, trying to sound demure. 

'That sounds good, but what kind of sex are you trained in, slave?' he asked.

'The list is a long one, master. Slave is very skilled at oral sex, well practised in different positions, and slave has exercised to tighten up slave's pussy, master. Did slave mention that slave could swallow master's cock down her throat, master,' she said. 

Jane leant forward, pouting her full luscious lips, and seductively licked them. 

'Do you two lovebirds want a top up?' the waitress asked. 

They burst out laughing, wondering how long she had been standing there listening.

'I'll take that as a yes,' she said. She winked at Jane, and moved to the next table.

'Well, Master? Do you wish to keep your slave, or put slave back on the shelf?' Jane asked. 

There was a hopeful look on her face, from wanting his approval. There had been an undercurrent of seriousness to their playing around. After all, he had bought her on spec, without knowing what he was getting. For her it was even worse, as she had no idea who was buying her at the auction. 

'Your skill set sounds perfect for me. I'm going to keep you, slave,' he smiled.

'Thank you, master. Your slave promises to please her master. . . ' she started to say, then choked off with emotion. 

She was deliriously happy. Being pleased to be this man's slave was wrong, yet somehow it felt so good. Besides, it was just a word. Their relationship was forming into something far more than a simple ownership. 

They picked at a miserable looking pastry, then decided to abandon it. As they pushed the trolley toward the exit, they passed temptingly close to the service desk. 

'Perhaps master should check on the returns policy for slaves, master,' she teased.

He could see how hot she was from fooling around. He was worried he might not be able to keep his side of the bargain, after this mornings' escapade, so a delay on returning home was welcome.

'Sure, why not,' he said, and they giggled happily.

He held up the label, still attached to Jane's sleeve. 'I was wondering about the store's returns policy,' he hesitantly asked. 

This was perhaps going too far. He felt the joke wearing off, leaving him feeling foolish.

'Yes, sir, no problem,' the sales assistant assured him.

She walked around the desk with a hand held device, to check the bar coded label.

'It's a sale item, but as you haven't left the store, I can take it back, and give you a full refund,' the woman explained.

To their surprise, the woman took hold of Jane's arm, and firmly steered her away. 

'I err, it's OK, I'll keep the err, dress, we were just enquiring,' Jane stammered.

'I know honey, Mildred told me all about it. My husband likes to dress up as a fireman. I'm his damsel in distress,' she said, sliding her lips into a half smile. 'It works for him, so that's good for me too,' she added.

Jane didn't know what to say. Mildred must be the waitress, so she did hear too much. They marched into a storeroom, with Jane still unable to work out what to say. She wasn't sure about this. The game was going too far. It was embarrassing, involving someone else. She just stood there looking lost. 

'Quickly, get the dress off,' the woman urged. 

What now? Jane was seriously on fire, and willing to try anything. The woman lifted the hem of the dress, and had it up to her waist before Jane could react. 

'Be a good slave, and do as you are told,' the woman sternly spoke. 'Or I'll have to spank you,' she added.

Jane reacted obediently, from being well used to doing as she was told, and lifted her arms. 

What the hell is going on? Bob was waiting impatiently at the desk, eager to leave.

The woman gripped her arm, pulling her to face the door, and swung it open. Jane looked at the aisle stretching before her. There were the shelves she had shopped along only moments ago. Now she was in the store in her underwear! It was a nightmare, and a sexy fantasy.

'I'll put you back on the shelf, ready for sale,' the woman informed her. 

That will teach the two of them to play games outside the bedroom. She looked at Jane, and figured she had made a mistake. The fantasy slave was more aroused than ever.




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 08



She gave her a push in the middle of the back, out of the storeroom. 

'Just here will do, it's close to the store room, where a prospective customer can try you out in privacy. I'll try and get back here at five, when the local gang comes in to play on the games consoles. They can be a nuisance. They try out the slaves, and I have to wash off the sticky mess. I was busy yesterday, and by the time I got here, the slave on show was leaking sperm from every orifice,' the woman explained.

Jane knew the woman was playing around, yet she felt both petrified and aroused. She was flaunting herself, in skimpy underwear, in the store! Looking around desperately, she was somewhat relieved to find no one in sight. 

'Don't go wandering off, slave,' she said, over her shoulder.

The woman walked off, back to the customer information desk.

'Please!' Jane whispered. 

She was standing very still on a plinth, previously used for some large power tool. In large letters above her, it was written, "try before you buy". In a state of near delirium, she took it to mean her. As a mere object for sale, a prospective customer could try her out! 

The saleswoman's patter came to mind, and she became caught up in the image of a gang of teenagers traipsing by to try out the games machines on display. She was on display, ready to be tried out! On the checkout slip she was cheaply priced, so they might buy her! What would it be like to end up as the gangs slave slut? 

Pandering to a bunch of sexed up, rampant young guys, would be demeaning and demanding. It would be exhausting! They would dress her up in slutty clothes, and trail her on a leash through the mall. Jane imagined meeting someone she knew, and nearly cum.

***

With one of the guys holding her leash tight, she stood with head bowed, trying not to be recognised, yet it was no good. The busybody approached her.

'I take it your on some protest stunt, Mrs Marshal. I must say it's in very poor taste. Especially for someone with your standing in the community. I haven't seen you at the church parochial meetings, or the planning committee recently,' the snooty woman admonished her. 

Her voice was full of condescension, with an expression of undisguised delight at the prospect of gossiping about her.

'I've had to resign. I've been bought by these young boys as their gang slut,' Jane ashamedly explained.

'What do you mean, Mrs Marshal?' the objectionable woman demanded. She was determined to dig up as much dirt as possible, to be shovelled around the neighbourhood.

After several weeks in the hands of these demanding, callous youths, there was nothing to be done except obediently answer the horrid woman. It was painfully humiliating to admit it, nevertheless she held nothing back.

'I'm a sex slave, ma'am. I spend my time pandering to the gang members every sexual demand, however depraved it might be. They own me, so I have to obey them,' Jane said. 

***

At the desk Bob was waiting for them, looking worried. He craned his neck to see where Jane was.

'Sir, your card has been credited. Is there anything else I can help you with today?' she asked.

He stammered something unintelligible, then put his mind into gear. 'Where's my, err, companion?' he asked. 

He couldn't bring himself to call her his wife, though maybe he should have lied.

'Your companion? Oh! You mean your slave, sir. You returned it, so it will go back on the shelf for sale,' she stated.

Bob was expecting Jane to appear in another dress. It all happened so quickly he hadn't been able to stop the charade. 

'Back on the shelf?' he queried.

'The Jane model will be inspected, and put back on the shelf. If it passes the inspection, of course,' she boldly stated. 

'Oh,' he lamely said. 'What inspection?' he asked. 

He felt stupid. His brain picked up speed, racing through events, trying to make sense of what was happening. She had called Jane his slave. The waitress had a hand in this! Jane was bound to be playing along, as she enjoyed the whole slave thing. He didn't want to play anymore. It was too embarrassing.

'An inspection will be carried out by the manager. He's very thorough. He enjoys the job too much if you ask me. All the slaves attributes will be tested, to make sure it meets the specifications,' she said, and pretended to read a computer screen. 

'It says here the Jane slave is trained as a dirty slut, one of our favourite models. The manager will certainly enjoy testing that one thoroughly,' she smirked. 

It was so very pleasing to call a customer's wife a dirty slut. How many times since working there had she felt like insulting stupid customers. 

Bob stood there with an uncomprehending look on his face. He could imagine the manager telling Jane he was going to inspect her skills. She was horny enough already, and all this playing around would be stoking her up. At this moment she was probably ready to submit to anything, as anyone's obedient slave. 

He shook off an image of her looking innocent and submissive before the manager. Of course it was just a wind-up. The two women were playing him along.

'I've changed my mind. I'll take the slave home,' he firmly spoke, hoping to put an end to the uncomfortable farce.

'Do you want it gift wrapped?' she asked.

'No, just as it is,' he said.

'I'll remove the store packaging, and bring it here,' the woman casually said.

'Remove what?' he suspiciously asked.

'We only clothe them for safety reasons. It says here the slave is already on the shelf for sale,' she said, pointing at a computer screen. It actually listed today's returns, but he couldn't see the monitor. 

The woman pointed toward the end isle, and told him, 'I'd be quick if I were you, the dirty slut model sells quickly.'

Before Bob could protest, the woman walked away toward the cafe. She was ready to tell her waitress friend all about the couple's dirty bedroom games. 

It was a big store with few customers, at the moment. He wondered if Jane was sitting on a shelf, naked. Playing at being a slave so much, had made her far too compliant. So she really could be on the shelf as ordered by that woman.

At the end of the far aisle, out of the way of popular items, Jane was openly standing in nothing but her underwear. 

Bob came running and stood before her panting. 

'Does sir wish to try this slave?' she asked. 

With a misty look in her eyes she seemed to be somewhere else entirely. Wherever it was, something exciting was happening to her.

He nervously looked around, and spotted a couple slowly walking up the aisle. Their heads were crooked toward the shelves, oblivious of Jane. His slave was almost naked, yet fortunately, she was unaware of a nearby audience. She was buzzing with longing. He knew the signs by now. She wanted sex, and would do anything to get it.

Where was the dress she had been wearing? He ran back along the aisle and grabbed another from a rack, almost tearing it on the hanger. He heard a group of rowdy teenagers, running up a parallel aisle. The couple had been reading the small print on packaging, then looked the other way, as the teenagers approached. 

There was some tawdry comments thrown at the couple as they passed. Bob glanced at them, and quickly pulled the dress over the slave's head. Jane shrugged it down her body, just in time. The young guys passed close to them, then turned to crowd them. 

He lost sight of her among the group of noisy oafs. A flash of bright yellow marked where she was. The guys were milling around, laughing and cajoling her. His best mechanic was Mexican, and he had an understanding of Spanish, but didn't understand a word they said, though the meaning was plain enough. He didn't like it at all. 

For a brief moment he caught sight of her. There hadn't been time to pick and choose something to wear. She was wearing a dress of bright canary yellow. It was too short, and too low cut. It flared out under her bust, to sway around her thighs. 

'Show us your stockings, girl,' one of them dared her.

A light breeze would have been enough to lift the hem, but she obligingly lifted it to show off the suspenders and panties. After all, she was there as an object for sale, and they were prospective customers. She had to show off the goods to make sure they knew what they were getting. 

Bob tried to raise his voice above their continuous street chatter. He was going to tell them to leave his slave alone. Would it be better to tell them to leave his wife alone? When she brazenly lifted the dress to show off her panties, he felt too ashamed to try that. There were too many of them to be heavy handed. He didn't mind being roughed up, what made him hesitate was the idea of them thinking they had won, and making off with her.

Maybe they would grow tired of this and move on. 

'Show us your ass, girl,' another goaded her.

Jane turned around with the dress still hiked up, wearing a thong that hid nothing of her bottom. 

'Some serious ass, girl. You must be our gang slut, girl,' the first one demanded.

'You must buy me if you want me,' Jane stated. 'I'm cheap,' she added.

While the guys were laughing, the reality of what was happening closed in. This wasn't in her imagination it was in a store, and she was up for sale. She was telling these young gangsters, they could buy her, as their gang slut. She had shown willingness to go with them, and even told them she was cheap! Damn!

They would think nothing of shop lifting, and she was just another object in the store. Would they hustle her out, hidden among them? The prospect of actually spending her days being gang fucked, servicing a bunch of rough Hispanics, was horrific.

'Come on guys, we don't need a cheap whore. We can get it for free,' the second one said, and received a crescendo of laughter. 

As suddenly as they had surrounded her they were gone. Jane stood there shivering with fear. Bob grabbed her, before she fell flat on her face. She looked pale, ready to faint. In stunned silence they hurried to the exit.

Once out of the parking lot, they both excitedly spoke at once. Bob was laughing with relief, and at the absurdity of the situation. 

'That store woman was certainly something,' Bob said.

'She put me on a shelf for sale in the store,' Jane blustered.

'I was wondering what was going on, what she was doing with you,' he laughed, with relief.

'I was so carried away I couldn't think straight,' she nervously laughed.

'I was so surprised to find you standing there in your underwear, looking bemused,' he said.

'It was those young guys that frightened me, they nearly took me,' Jane shivered.

Jane was all over him. A hand grabbed his fly, trying to tear it open.

'Thank you master for changing your mind and buying your slave. Your slave will be a faithful and obedient slave, honest, Master,' she gushed.

The scenario of being sold in a store seemed so vivid and real! This experience put the lid on her doubts over being a slave. Listening to the woman describing her as a slut, the manager's inspection, and being put back on the shelf for sale, was dynamite to an already aroused mind and body. The close call with the Hispanic gang was awesome, now that it was over.

She ducked under the steering, and sucked on her master's cock, despite his protests. As it grew there was less room under the steering wheel. Unable to lift her head, its increasing length slid into her throat. Every time the car bounced, it threatened to choke her.

Bob forced himself to slow down. If the cops stopped him now, he would be in trouble, and there was no way she was letting go. He sighed with relief, when they turned onto the dirt track up to his home. 

'Come on slave! We're home! Be an obedient slave and do as you're told,' he said, and reached over to slap her ass. She came up for air, with snot on her face from having to breathe through her nose for the whole journey. 

They didn't wait around to unpack the car, or even slam the doors behind them. Later Bob would have to acknowledge that he too was excited by the episode. They didn't make it to the bedroom before tearing each others' clothes off. Bent over the kitchen table, Bob pounded his sex slave. 

'Yes, Master, OH! Yes!' she roared, as he cum inside her. 'Fill your slave with master's cum!' she gurgled. She had an orgasm as soon as he entered her, then again when he spurted into her. Her vagina continued to spasm, gripping and releasing his cock, in waves, as though his sperm was the tide coming in. She was sure he hadn't cum so much before.

They drank a cup of coffee, still grinning at each other across the kitchen table. He needed a boost, for he felt drained. His slave was wearing him out.

'I'll go get the stuff from the car,' he said.

'Master, your slave will do it,' she eagerly offered. 

Before he could say anything, she was ferrying bags into the kitchen. While he drank a second cup, she put food and cleaning materials away. She almost ran into the kitchen, from putting things away in the bathroom. 

'Your slave has finished, Master. May your slave try on the new dresses master kindly bought for his slave?' she asked. 

He couldn't help noticing that she was referring to herself in the third person, and as his slave. She was still beaming at him, so much so he felt like a rabbit caught in headlights.

'What did you think of what went on in the store?' he asked. 

Although she was eager to try on the dresses, she stopped to think. She owed her master so much, the excitement could be delayed for him. 

'Thank you, Master. Thank you for buying your slave. It was all this slave deserved, being put through the till, like one of the objects in the basket. Your slave is so lucky to have been bought by a good master,' she said. 

Her face changed from thoughtful, back to eagerness to scoot again. 

'Go on, get to those dresses,' he smiled. 

This was strange. It had just been a game. She had been deeply excited, but it wasn't healthy for her to think like that. Maybe he should send her back to Margaret. In this state she would be even more vulnerable than when she arrived. Putting her in the hands of someone who already took advantage of her, and probably started the whole thing, how could he do that!

'What do you think, master,' she buzzed in and gave a twirl. 

'Marvellous,' he enthused as best he could. He was worried about her. 

'Wait until I show you the rest,' she said.

She lifted the dress up over her head, to show off the new underwear. The corset had been bought by Margaret, so she was pleased to leave it off. Her waist was skinny enough.

She stood posing for him in the brief set. Not getting the reaction she hoped for, she asked, 'What's the matter master?' she worriedly asked. If he got bored with her, he might sell her, and she was happy here.

'I'm worried about you. No, I'm happy you're here and very pleased with you. It's what you said earlier, about being sold in the store. It was just a game,' he sighed, wondering how she would react. 

She walked over to him, sat on his knee, and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. 

'Thank you for being worried about me, that's wonderful. It was a game, but, somehow, it kind of felt right. It felt as though you had chosen me. You had bought me legitimately, in a store, with all the other stuff. It made me feel wanted, and you do make me feel cared for. I know all this isn't right. What else can I do? I owe you so much, it is easy to think of myself as your slave. It's real, you bought me at the superstore. They boast they sell everything, well they do!' she laughed.

He gripped her tight, happy with relief. 'Do you want to carry on?' he asked.

'Yes, master. Until you become bored with me, and sell me on,' she teased.

Bob would have to do something about her daughter's college fees. She thought he'd paid Margaret a large sum for her, so he had to put things right. It meant confronting Margaret, which he didn't look forward to.

***

'Hello Bob, nice to see you, come in.' Margaret said, and disposed of the usual greetings. You look good, what have you been up to?' she asked.

'Got myself a partner,' he said.

'I thought you were retired, Oh, that kind of partner. You look troubled. Don't bring them to me, I'm no agony aunt,' she brusquely told him.

'Her name is Jane,' he said.

'You? You bastard!' she exclaimed.

He cut her off with a palm raised before her. 'I'm here to pay the college fees,' he quickly interjected. 

'You can't buy her, she's not for sale,' she crossly spoke.

'She's happy where she is, with me. I'm looking after her, which is more than you did. She had a rough time here,' he angrily retorted. 

'Well, she enjoyed herself,' Margaret reluctantly said.

'She feels safe with me. I'm trying to, make things right. That's why I'm here,' he said.

'Did she tell you everything?' she asked, looking away, feeling guilty.

'She did. I don't want to go into all that, I just want to pay Louis's college fees for this year,' he firmly stated.

'This year is covered,' she stated.

'The house sale? What about her investments?' he asked.

Margaret took a deep breath. 'That was all gone before she moved in here. After the mortgage balance, and everything else, there wasn't much left. It covered college and Louis's expenses, that's all,' she informed him. 

They sat for a moment looking away from each other.

'You're sure she's alright?' she asked.

'Getting there,' he relented. 

'Good. Tell her I'm sorry. It all just got out of hand. I didn't mean to push her so far. Didn't realise she was so,' she said, with a shrug.

'If she ever needs somewhere, she can always come back here. Not like before, I'll look after her properly, honest, Bob,' Margaret promised.

'I can cope. It's a bit weird, the whole thing. She wants to play all the time,' he revealed. He hadn't intended to, it was a reaction to Margaret's sincerity.

'Play?' she asked.

'Not just that. It's a fantasy thing. She wants to play at being my slave,' he said, feeling embarrassed from revealing an intimacy. 

'What about Mark?' he asked, trying to change the subject.

'Mark? Oh! She did tell you everything. He's got a girlfriend, his age,' she said. 'She's encouraging him to go to college,' she added.

The conversation wound down to stares past each other.

'I'll keep in touch. When next year's fees are due let me know,' he said.

'Yes, we need to keep in touch. Let me know how she is,' Margaret earnestly spoke.

At the door she spontaneously gave him a hug. 'I'm sure she's in good hands with you, Bob,' she said.

She stood in the doorway watching him drive off. It was a relief to know what had happened to Jane. It seemed everything had worked out for the best after all.

On his return Jane seemed anxious. 

'What's the matter, slave?' he asked. 

'Your slave was worried, master,' she weakly smiled.

'Well I'm home now. I was checking with Margaret that the college fees were up to date, and Louis has enough to live on,' he explained. 

It hadn't been wise to worry her with where he was going, until all had been settled with Margaret. It had gone much better than he hoped.

'Thank you master,' she smiled, looking more settled.

They settled down to a routine, as master, and slave. Since visiting Margaret, he was more able to except Jane's eccentricity. They visited the supermarket again, with nervous excitement, only to find the woman wasn't there. Probably on a different shift. It was disappointing not to play another game with her. Apart from that woman they had to keep it a secret, as others wouldn't understand their relationship. 

They were like newlyweds, wanting to tell everyone, yet having to keep it a secret. Drawn close together, they got to know each other. Talking about past times over meal times, and in bed, they became closer. 




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 08



'What have you done, slave?' Bob demanded.

'Sorry, Master. Your slave has been clumsy,' she said. 

Jane was carefully picking up the pieces of a vase. It held sentimental value, inherited from his grandmother, rather than value to anyone else. 

'Be careful in future. I was fond of that,' he told her. It was the second time in two days he had to warn her.

'Sorry, Master,' she said, not looking sorry at all.

'I don't think you are sorry, slave. I have a good mind to give you something to remind you not to be clumsy,' he heavily warned. A glance from her gave him a clue as to what was going on.

'When you've cleared up, come to my study,' he crossly spoke. 

Jane walked in feeling nervous. Her master was upset, and had become angry. which wasn't like him at all. She walked over to him, to stand beside the desk. Looking down at her feet in respect, she managed a sideways glance. He had a leather belt in his hand! She trembled in anticipation. 

'Sorry, Master. Your slave promises not to be careless again, Master, honestly,' she whined.

'You had better not, or I'll use this belt. Bend over the desk. Pull the dress up,' he ordered.

'Please master, please don't hurt your slave,' she groaned. 

He sat for a moment studying her peachy bottom. She was anxiously squirming, moving her ass in an exquisite way. Today she wasn't wearing a corset, just a suspender belt, holding sheer stockings. The underwear framed her ass perfectly. The rear was so perfect, he wanted to stroke it, rather than spank it.

'Pull your panties down, slave,' he eventually ordered.

Watching her awkwardly wriggle her hips, until they fell around her ankles, was a treat. The tiny sheer, lace panties, matched the push up bra. They had accumulated quite a few sets of racy underwear over the last couple of weeks. She was still for a moment, only to start wriggling again in anticipation of the punishment. He knew she was dreading the spanking, yet needed the humiliation. 

His hand came up high, until with a wide sweep, he slapped a cheek. Surprised at how hard the blow was, she let out a gasp. Another thwack to the other cheek, followed by four more, and he was finished.

'Stand up, slave,' he said. 

She stood with head bowed, looking sorry for herself. Sexual arousal was revealed by swollen lips, otherwise he would have felt sorry for her. 

'Stand up straight, shoulders back,' he ordered. 

Both nipples were rock hard, now very prominent through the dress. Her nipples enlarged considerably when stimulated, like her lips. 

'What do you say, slave?' he asked.

'Thank you master, for punishing your naughty slave,' she trotted out the usual response.

Her hips were swaying from side to side, with a sexy swing to them. 

'Give me those panties,' he said.

She stepped out of the panties pooled at her feet, picked them up, and handed them to her master. 

'Lift up that dress, and stand with legs apart,' he told her.

Her face was a picture of anguish and pain. It was humiliating to be treated so contemptibly, yet the cruel treatment aroused her. She knew her sexual arousal was going to be criticised, and agonised over how that would be. He leaned forward and ran a finger between her engorged lips.

'My slave is as sopping wet as a cheap whore. What are you?' he demanded.

'Your slave is wet as a cheap whore, master, sorry master,' she blustered. 

He kept his finger still, pressing lightly against her clit, emerging from its hood. He felt her trembling, then she pressed herself against his finger. 

'Stop that, dirty slut, slave,' he warned her.

'Sorry, master. Your slave is just a dirty slut, master,' she said. 

Her voice quavered as much as her thighs were trembling. She was only just refraining from piercing herself on his finger.

'Lick your master's fingers clean, sloppy slave,' he ordered.

'Thank you, master,' she responded. 

He wasn't sure what she was thanking him for. Either the humiliation, or what she was expecting to receive next. She was buzzing with sexual excitement, expecting him to take her. 

'It's obvious my slave wants a fucking,' he pointed out. 

She looked at him eagerly, then realised he was angry with her. She lowered her eyes in shame, still looking stoked up and very ready. Knowing how blatantly she was advertising her sexual wantonness was shameful. That self-awareness only added to her arousal, leaving her writhing with frustration before him.

'Sorry for being such a slut, master,' she breathed heavily. 

'Later your master will see to you. Go to your room and learn patience, slave,' he ordered.

She almost ran to her room, and grabbed the vibrator. Spread wide on the bed she began to play with herself. It wasn't enough, but would have to do until later. She vigorously worked her sex to an orgasm. After a brief rest, she began again, working toward a more gentle orgasm. The ease with which she became aroused, and the deep demand for satisfaction was impossible to control. She wondered how long this state of uncontrollable need would have to be suffered. Would she ever return to normal?



Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 09



Lost in a card game

'Your master has decided on a trip to Las Vegas,' Bob said.

Her head was on his chest, after a heavy love making session. He felt her stiffen, ever so slightly. 

'I'll book a luxury room, and we can enjoy the desert heat, together,' he added.

She relaxed and looked up at him with a great big smile. For a moment she thought he was going without her, and was worried how to cope without him. It was firmly embedded in her mind that she was his slave, and she was therefore completely dependent upon him.

'Have you ever been?' he asked.

'Your slave hasn't, master. Your slave is looking forward to it,' she warmly smiled.

She diligently avoided saying "no" to her master. Likewise, Bob fell into her pattern of speech, even though he wanted to cure her of playing the slave game. He simply gave in to her foibles and joined in to play the game. Not that it was possible to complain when such lively sex was the result.

'Slave will make breakfast, master' she enthused. 

'No, slave. We'll eat out, just make a quick coffee,' he ordered. 

Even his tone of voice had changed, to being forceful and commanding. It was easy to do after so many years employing engineers, and misbehaving apprentices. She thrived on being put in her place, and was pleased to be directed, rather than think for herself. 

'The first thing we need to do is buy you some suitable clothing. I want you looking your best,' he explained.

Jane looked pleased and appreciative. Her husband had been mean, and she never had so many clothes bought for her until here with her master. She kept quiet as he ticked off on one hand the arrangements that had to be made. 

***

She trotted along to keep up with him, as he strode through the mall, into an upmarket store. He picked a dress, with her guidance to size. Standing in front of a mirror, it clearly fitted her better than the previous cheap garments bought at the supermarket. He looked at the dress, and her expression. 

'I know, it's not cheap. Buy cheap and buy twice. Though I'm guessing that doesn't apply to women's clothes. Who heard of a woman wearing out a party dress. It doesn't look right does it,' he said, when finally understanding the expression. 

He knew little about women's clothes, but for some reason it wasn't right. 

'OK, you're the expert, you choose. I'll give the assistant a credit card, so just get what you need, alright?' he asked. 

With a sigh of relief, he was off the hook. As her master, he was supposed to be looking after her, and keeping her happy. This was hitting the spot. In return he was getting all he could wish for. A simple straightforward relationship, the house cleaned up, and great sex into the bargain.

When she appeared from the cubicle to twist and turn in front of a mirror, her expression confirmed it was spot on. Her long blond hair spiralled around her head as she quickly turned. He could see there was a difference, though he wasn't sure what it was. The simple, powder blue cotton dress hugged her figure, without being cheap looking. She looked a million dollars to him, and worth every penny.

'Thank you master,' she warmly smiled.

He thought about last night, and figured it was a bargain. 

'What about another one of those, in a different colour?' he suggested. 

'Maybe something different, master?' she asked.

'Whatever you want, slave,' he smiled back.

'I'll need shoes with this dress,' she pointed out.

He sighed, huffed and puffed, then agreed. 'Best get a purse and hat to match,' he relented. The look of amusement she gave him, indicated the hat was either going too far, or unnecessary. 'Never mind, you do your thing. I'll go find a coffee shop, there must be one here somewhere,' he said.

He looked up from the newspaper to see a woman standing close. It took a moment to fathom it was his slave. 

'Wow!' he exclaimed, looking impressed. 

The look of appreciation had her tummy fluttering with pride. Husbands sitting at other tables had the same idea, of leaving their wives to shop. They looked at her over the top of magazines and newspapers, with wistful looks. When Bob looked around with a harsh glare, they rustled the newspapers, pretending not to be staring. 

Feeling naughty, she lifted the skirt, to show him stocking tops, with a hint of suspenders tightly gripping them. It was so much more fun being a slut! On top of that, being a slave meant she could leave moral decisions to her master. He looked around to make sure no-one else had seen what was for his eyes only. Satisfaction from his look of proud ownership, rippled through her entire body. 

'You're glowing, slave. You look so damn good,' he happily remarked.

They had a coffee and a croissant, while talking about this and that. They avoided anything to do with their mutual past. They shared ambitions for their daughters education, and what problems the future might throw at them. 

'I've made arrangements with Margaret, to make sure Louise has an allowance, so no need to worry about that,' he told her.

'Your slave doesn't worry, master. My master looks after slave so well, slave doesn't have to think about anything,' she stated. 

He should have picked up on the comment. He took it as another compliment, for buying her clothes and anything else she wanted. She had told the truth, that she didn't worry, or even think for herself, for she had become completely dependent upon him for all decisions in this new life style.

'Master,' she hesitantly spoke. 

'Yes?' he said, cocking his head to one side, wondering what she wanted to ask.

'Thank you for the outfits, they are lovely,' she smiled.

'But?' he returned. 

'Perhaps, you would like your slave dressed in something else. Some fantasy outfit?' she hesitantly asked.

He gave her a big smile. 'My slave have a fantastic body. Your master just wants to see you naked,' he said.

'Yes, master, anything my master wishes,' she said, with a serious look. She stood, and pulled the hem up.

'No! Not here!' he whispered.

She gave him a coy smile. 'If you're sure, master,' she teased. 

He relaxed on seeing she had been playing him along. He leaned across the table to tell her, 'Mrs Marshal, you are a good maid, a very satisfying sex slave, and a very dirty slut,' he teased back.

She blushed furiously. She hadn't been called by name in a long time. It felt as though that life belonged to someone else. She was no longer that prissy, uptight woman, and didn't want to think about her, for she was having such an exciting time as his slave. 

She leaned forward to reply. 'Your sex slave is just trying to be obedient for her master,' she goaded him.

'Maybe I'll order my slave to show me her new underwear,' he taunted. 

Jane knew from experience that she would obey anything he said, after becoming so aroused. That didn't mean she wouldn't regret it afterwards. 

'Please, master, save your slave from shame,' she timidly spoke. 

He thought she was play acting, not realising she would have to obey him, and endure the disgrace. He looked her in the eye, and for a moment she thought he was going to make her strip off in the coffee shop. She tugged at the zip, which went all the way up the front of the dress. 

Seeing her hand rise above the table top, he now saw what she was doing. Damn! She was certainly game, though it was going too far. Before he could utter a word, the zip was at the top of the dress, ready to split it in two. 

'Enough!' he croaked. 

'Yes, Master,' she said. Curiously there was neither a reproach, nor a teasing look on her face.

They both sat there poised. One slight movement and the dress would peel away from her body, leaving her more or less naked. He could see the quarter cup bra, and guessed the panties were as brief. The little pieces of material were transparent, so the matching briefs would be too. She only purchased thongs and g-strings, because he liked to see her shapely ass.

She thought he was silently teasing her. He was keeping her in suspense. Any moment a waitress would come over with more coffee, and see the lewd display. A customer might take a detour on their way out, to take a closer look at the beautiful blond. They would see to their satisfaction more of her than expected. 

He watched her nipples exploding above the bra, and from experience imagined her plump lips unfolding. He nodded to her, only to see her mistake the motion.

'No!' he exclaimed, a little too loudly. 

He dare not look around at the staring faces. He hoped no-one could see her breasts perched upon the little bra. Others could tell there was something up with the dress, from the way it blossomed out. The little black dress had fitted her slim figure perfectly. Now it flowed out from the low neckline to either side of her thighs, leaving it completely open in front.

He couldn't say anything when she stood up, thinking she was about to drop the dress to the floor, and stand to attention before her master. He was proud to declare the attractive young woman was his, even to admitting she was his slave. Not now though.

On standing she pulled up the zip, without mishap. He realised it would have been impossible to pull the zip down over the folds of material while seated. It was a magic act, of concealment rather than pulling the rabbit from the hat. 

They both leant back giggling. The snack was finished so they left to continue their shopping.

The other chores, such as buying air tickets, and booking an hotel, were less exciting. They managed to keep themselves under control until arriving home. If he had imagined shopping could be such fun, he would have volunteered years ago. Of course, his wife hadn't been adventurous at all, when cooking, decorating the house, or in the bedroom. 

The bedroom wasn't the only place where they were adventurous. He was thankful they had a large comfortable vehicle to play in. Even so, his back was aching from the drive home. He had to awkwardly position himself to allow her access to his crotch. She played him like a musical instrument. Allegro to adagio, she was a virtuoso at finger work.

***

They received the usual looks as Bob booked into the hotel. The admiration was for the gorgeous looking blond, with envious glances for him. This time he wasn't the only sugar daddy with an attractive younger woman on his arm. 

He wore a new suit, though he didn't expect anyone to notice him with a sexy slave at his side. Jane wore a light dress, flowing from under the bust. The material was light and breezy, looking as though it would blow away, or at least up around her waist. If it did, the avidly watching males would see she wore stockings held up by a low slung suspender belt, and nothing else. 

Walking into the room, she looked around for a bed. Unaware that such a thing as a suite existed, caused her some confusion. The fairyland decoration was mesmerising. Every room was decorated in a fantasy Arabian Nights theme. He led her into the adjoining bedroom, looked into a large bathroom, and finally a dressing room, where their luggage had been unpacked. What she had thought was a bath in the lounge, turned out to be a hot tub.

'Tours over, Slave. There's a package in the dressing room. Get changed, and quickly, Slave,' he said, emphasising the word slave.

Even the dressing room was lavishly completed with Arabian themed motifs on walls and furniture. On a dressing table there was a familiar package. The very same one she had been curious about, yet forbidden to open when it arrived at their home. She eagerly tore off the paper to reveal a flimsy garment. The thin gauze like material was completely see through. It had a roomy top, with baggy leggings. The costume was that of a concubine from a Thousand and One Nights. 

Gleefully she ran on bare feet into the lounge. Before her master, she kneeled with both hands pressed together in supplication. 

'Oh, wise master, this humble slave wishes to thank her master, a thousand times,' she lavishly spoke. 

'Just the once will tire me out,' he laughed. 

Pressing her head to the carpet, she hoped he would join in the fun. In such an atmosphere it was easy to become carried away, for her at least. 

'Your master expects complete obedience from his sex slave, or it will be punished,' he heavily stated.

'Oh, great one, your slave wouldn't think of disobedience, master,' she heavily breathed.

He was going to quip that he wasn't that great around the waist. At this rate they wouldn't leave the room all weekend. She was becoming far too carried away.

'Slave, in the bedroom, your master wishes to use his slave,' he ordered.

This was going to be tricky. Rummaging around in a case, he found a whip. It wasn't exactly a bull whip, more like a joke shop model. In any case, he dramatically held it up for her to see. 

'Bend over the bed, slave,' he said.

'Please, master, don't hurt your faithful and obedient slave. Please, Master,' she whined. 

Having him play her fantasy out in such a provocative place, had her breathing hard. She didn't care if it was deserved or not, she wanted him to punish her. The very thought of being whipped was pushing her into submission, and sexing her up. 

'You are my sex slave, and will wait on the bed at all times. Do you understand, sex slave?' he demanded.

Before she could gather a reply, he sliced the whip over her rear. There was a surprisingly loud smack across her cheeks. An angry red mark began to appear across what had been a perfect peachy bottom. 

About to apologise, he only just held back. 'That is to show slave will be punished, if it is disobedient. Just one as an example. Six lashes will be administered if it displeases its master,' he harshly stated.

'Yes, master, thank you master for punishing slave. Your sex slave knows she is just an object owned by master. Slave will obey master in all things,' Jane bubbled with arousal.

Too late, he realised the mistake. Meaning only to gently swipe her ass, to calm her down, it instead had her greatly fired up. 'Stand up, sex slave,' he loudly spoke, then quietened down, in case someone overheard. 

'Go the dressing room, and tell the escort slave to hurry up. It will be punished if it doesn't get a move on. Your master wishes to see the sights with his escort slave,' he firmly ordered.

'Yes, master, right away, master,' Jane's voice quavered. 

She was in the dressing room before thinking over what he meant. She could only smile at his craftiness. She had been heavily punished, and ordered to stay in his bed, waiting to be used. He knew how excited she became when punished, yet she had been cleverly ordered to be a calm escort slave. Whatever that was.

She had to dress for a trip out, so pulled on an elegant new dress, with built in bra. There was no need to wear panties with it. Did he want her to wear underwear? She tugged the dress off, pulled up sheer stockings, and attached them to a pale blue garter belt. It was all taking too long! The pastel blue dress was so wonderful, she had to give it a twirl in front of a mirror. 

Hurrying back to him, she bowed her head, and said, 'Sorry, master.' 

'This is worth waiting for,' he admiringly spoke. 

The dress hugged her slim waist, and gathered around her hips to fall like mist around her thighs. A very thin waist emphasised her bust, and hips. She looked so feminine he wanted to protect her from life, and everything. 

'Men shouldn't see this wondrous beauty, it will make them dissatisfied with what they have, or are likely to have,' he said. 

He wore a proud smile plastered across his face. There was no way he was going to let her go now. He just couldn't bear to be without her.

He offered her his arm. 'Remember, you are an obedient slave. You must obey your master, at all times,' he warned her.

'Yes, master! Your slave is ready and willing to obey her master in all things,' Jane said, with a flourish of pleasure. 

He smiled with contentment as she dutifully lowered her head in supplication to him. Having a beautiful young woman pander to his whims was magnificent. How could he possibly not play along with her dream of being a slave. There was plenty of time, when they returned home, to try and break the habit. In the meantime they would have fun, and enjoy the exciting atmosphere of Las Vegas. 

They sat in a casino restaurant enjoying the sounds of people excitedly chatting. Slipping the concierge a tip had them seated at a prime table, overlooking the entertainment. Dancing girls, magicians, a singer, and a comedian went through their routines. They laughed and applauded, with enthusiasm. The street life downtown was lively. A picture show in lights above them was enthralling. He had seen it all before, but re-lived the first time experience through her.

Back at the hotel they stopped in the bar for a night-cap. Jane was allowed an old fashioned which she had heard of, though never tried before. The way she sipped it showed disappointment. He bought her a sweeter cocktail, tasting less of alcohol. 

'It's a strawberry daiquiri,' he explained. 

'Mmm, nice, master,' she contentedly smiled.

They simply enjoyed each others' company, sitting quietly together with the hubbub of keyed up people surrounding them. They soon returned to the suite, feeling tired, yet full of expectation.

'Your master will join his sex slave, tell her to be ready for him,' he told her. 

The walking had tired him out, but she deserved what she enjoyed the most.

This time she understood what he meant. There were times when he expected her to exhibit self-control, and in their room she could be a wanton hussy. She skipped to the changing room, quickly pulled off the dress and stockings, and put on the see-thru pantaloons and top. 

Laying back on the huge bed, she watched him stroll in. He looked all of his fifty years. Although unfair to compare him to Mark, she couldn't help thinking what they could do on this bed. The humiliation of a spanking by a young guy, half her age, would be enough to have her begging for sex. Mark was young and virile, able to satisfy her. He used her for his own gratification, which had her aching for him all the more. Her master made love to her, which was so comforting and fulfilling, it too was satisfying.

'Please, master, sit here,' she quietly spoke, and began to undress him. 

He had a sad look on his face, from realising he wasn't going to make love to her, and that she knew it. He was committed to looking after her, and that wasn't just buying things. He wanted to keep her happy and satisfied in bed. They snuggled up together, sharing the warmth of their bodies. He affectionately kissed her, and rained gentle caresses over her, nose, eyes, and neck. Without seeking permission, she slipped down the bed to his wrinkled penis.

'Master needs his sleep,' she said. 

Sucking his cock into her mouth, she suckled on it, as though it were a dummy. It might have been, from the little use it would be tonight. She smiled up at him, with his flaccid member in her mouth. He looked disappointed, for her, not himself.

'Your slave is in her place, Master,' she whispered, and sucked his cock back into her mouth. 

'Your master is very pleased with his slave. Slave will be rewarded tomorrow,' he weakly smiled. 

This wasn't a ravenous eating of his manhood, this was meant to be gentle and soothing, to send him off to sleep. Hearing his breathing deepen, she stopped sucking and manipulating it with her tongue. She held it in her mouth, feeling contented that she was serving a caring master. 

Next morning they lay in bed, discussing the highlights of yesterday, and planning what to do next. He tickled her and played with her body, while she giggled helplessly. They ended up head to toe, feeding on each other's sex. He brought her to an orgasm, and at the last moment prevented her from making him cum. 




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 09



'Later, you naught sexy slut,' he told her. 

She giggled and chortled, full of happiness. 

They flew over the Grand Canyon, boated on a lake, and took in the sights. They managed to secure a table in the window of a hotel restaurant, overlooking sailing ships fighting it out. Jane was overwhelmed with the grandeur of the city. It was an adult playground, and they were going to play adult games tonight.

'There's plenty more to see, and we haven't been gambling yet,' he told her.

'We did master, while in the hotel,' she corrected him, forgetting she was a slave. 

'That's just playing the machines. Poker is serious gambling,' he pointed out. 

'Your slave would love to watch her master playing poker,' she said, trying to get him to do something he enjoyed, just for him. 

'The only poker you like, is me poking you in bed,' he quipped, and felt her grip his arm tighter. She looked at him with a devilish smile. 

'What does my slave like most? In or out of bed,' he asked. 

'In bed master, where its comfortable,' she answered.

'You know what I mean. Answer your master, obediently,' he cajoled her. 

Jane could never bring herself to talk dirty. As a slave she was free to tell her master whatever he demanded. 

'Sucking on masters cock. . . The feeling of masters cock when it's about to explode into his slave. It gets bigger, giving slave a feeling of fullness, then master spurts into her, filling her up with master's cum,' she said, sounding delighted with the naughtiness of revealing such lewd secrets. 

No-one knew them here so they felt free to use the phrases they had become used to. The waitress wore a short skirt with plenty of cleavage on display. He would have had difficulty keeping his eyes from her, except he had a exciting slave to keep him occupied. In such a brazen atmosphere they felt free to play their game of master and slave. Not that Jane could any longer choose not to. She was completely immersed in the freedom of leaving her master to set the limits. Being a slut slave was so liberating, she revelled in the role.

'Hi, Bob! How you doing?' Jake asked, and looked at the beautiful young woman, trying not to stare.

'Hi, Jake. This is, err, my friend, Jane,' he said, fumbling for a description of their relationship.

'Nice to meet you, Jane,' he said, with a smile, trying not to let it become a leer.

She was wearing a little black dress, covering more than the waitresses outfit, though it was more alluring. The bust line was low, though not trashy. The hem was high, and just low enough to cover black stocking tops. When she crossed her legs the two men automatically glanced at her thighs on hearing a rasp, expecting static sparks, igniting their imagination. Bob didn't need to use his imagination, he had watched her dress, so knew she wore just a g-string.

They settled down with another round. 

'Don't suppose you'll be interested in a poker game,' Jake stated, with a slight nod at Bob's companion. Who would want to play a hand, when he had a sex bomb to play around with.

'Mast, err, your, err, I would love to watch you play,' Jane diffidently spoke. 

Introducing her as Jane was a clear message to try and behave normally. So used to calling him master, it was hard not to, even in front of his friend. It was difficult to think of this as normal, after being so happy calling him, Master.

'There you are, Bob, you have permission. A quick game, just to make up the numbers. It'll be fun!' Jake encouraged.

They followed Jake to a members only room in the casino. Jane was nervous over trying to behave as they expected. She had immersed herself in the role of slave so deeply, she lost track of normal behaviour. 

They started as would be usual among strangers, with bland introductions. 

'It's alright, Jane can serve the drinks,' Bob answered Richard's criticism. 

Jake spoke up for Bob, saying she would be discreet. 'It'll help the game flow better, if we don't have to keep getting up for food and drink,' he pointed out.

The others readily agreed, which halted the argument about having a woman looking over their shoulders. No-one mentioned having an attractive woman present would be a distraction. 

The game started slowly with each of them trying to assess the others ability. The bets were small and careful. A couple more drinks and the repartee fell away to a steady concentration on the cards. Each thought he had the mark of the other players, but there was a surprise.

Richard won on a bluff. The others were wondering why he revealed a hand of nothing. Was it to tempt them the next time he bluffed, or was he bragging, trying to get them wound-up?

A comfort break was called, and everyone left the room except Richard. He went over to the bar, where Jane was entering their latest round of drinks on the bill. 

'You look ravishing, Jane. Do you work in Vegas? You're out of town then. Would you like to work here. Really? I don't believe that, everyone wants to. I could get you a job at an agency, much better money here than anywhere else. What escort agency do you work for?' he asked.

Jane was feeling edgy. The man was standing too close. There was something intimidating about him. Despite the casual chatting, he was so self-controlled, and was angling for something. 

'Not an agency. I'm with my mast. . .' she almost tripped up. 

'Go on, who are you with?' he asked. The tone of voice was pleasant, yet he was demanding more. 

'I'm with Bob,' she said, while mixing a cocktail.

'He's too old for you, so he must have paid you to accompany him. I'll book you as my escort for tomorrow, just tell me which agency,' he insisted.

'I'm not an escort, I'm his slave,' she boldly stated, wanting to shock him. She was pleased to see this rattled him enough that he stepped back.

'That's not possible, is it? How did that happen?' he asked, sounding genuinely baffled.

Having him on the run fired a determination to keep him off balance, and get rid of the obnoxious man. He was around her age, and dressed expensively, though there wasn't the slightest thing about him that was attractive. He reminded her of a rat, sniffing around, looking for an advantage over her. His greasy hair was slicked and pulled back to a pony tail. He was the same height as her, much shorter than her master. He was thin, with pallid skin, as though he were recovering from drugs. 

It was his attitude that was most annoying. Over self-confident, brash, which new wealth bought as a needling pain to those around him. Perhaps he was used to getting his way, but not with her. She had Bob to look after her.

As soon as the others walked in he went to his seat and sat down. He didn't look settled though.

Bob had a limit and this was it. He would have to call. Round the table each player called, except Richard. The stakes were high, having got out of hand after several drinks. 

'I'll raise you the lot, all in,' Richard said, while dramatically pushing a large pile of chips forward. 

Bob looked at his friend with a questioning expression. Jake nodded, then thought better of the advice and pursed his lips, showing doubt. Was the guy bluffing? He had once, and there were a couple of other times it was likely. Bob glanced at his cards again, confirming a full house. If he walked away from the large pile in the centre of the table, the guy was sure to show his hand. He could see him now, laughing from having seriously bluffed them.

'I'll write an IOU for more chips, and meet you,' Bob said, staring the guy out. 

'No can do, house rules,' Filipe spoke up. 

'What about putting something on the table?' Richard asked.

'Such as? My watch wouldn't cover it,' Bob scowled. What was the guy going to do, take the shirt off his back. He was angry at the son-of a-bitch. He hated the idea of borrowing from a friend, yet considered it.

'What about your slave? She would cover the bet,' he suggested.

Bob looked at him in disbelief. He looked at Jane, and received confirmation that she had given away their secret. The guilty look, then a quick turn away from him was all he needed. He was angry at her too. He would look a fool when they finished mulling over what was said.

'There's no such thing as a slave, is there?' Filipe stated, and questioned it at the same time. He looked around at the others for an answer.

'What's the idea? Where'd you get that notion from?' Texas asked. 

He was from New York city, on vacation, and liked to pretend he was a cowboy. If asked, he'd admit to being an accountant. In Las Vegas you could be anything you wanted to be. 

'She owed a lot of money and I paid it off. So I own her until its paid back,' Bob said, cutting a long story very short. They looked at Jane who murmured agreement.

'Would she agree to going in the pot, for anyone to win?' Filipe asked. He realised he was looking too eager, and straightened his face. 'I was just asking,' he added, making himself look worse. 

No-one took any notice of Filipe. They were too busy staring at the attractive woman, imagining owning such a beauty. 

'I'll write out an ownership deed,' Bob said, sounding pompous. 

He should have realised the alcohol clouded his judgement. Now it was out in the open, anger released a boasting arrogance. He could put something on the table worth playing for, and he'd show up the bastard. He had their attention, and rather than sloping off to bed they became wide awake, ready to continue the game.

Bob scribbled out a note, proscribing ownership of Jane's debts, and her agreement to serve the owner of the debts. He made her sign the paper, making it a show of disapproval to her, and a show of power to them. They all realised the document wouldn't stand up in a court of law, but men in drink tend to believe in honour, and promises.

Richard squinted at the note, then remembered to put on his glasses. 'What do you say, slave? Will you honour the contract?' he asked.

Jane had avidly followed the conversation. She too had sipped a glass or two, though not as much as the players. Even so it was hard to accept that she was going to be used in a bet. This was unexpected. She had just wanted her master to enjoy himself. It was awkward for him to bring home friends where they lived, and here was a chance to relax in the company of men.

'Yes, Sir,' she agreed. 

She was nervous as hell, hoping her master had things under control. She knew nothing about cards, so assumed he was holding a good hand.

'What will you do, when someone wins you?' he asked.

All eyes were on her. They were willing her to say she would be their slave, waiting for the words as though it were feeding time at the zoo. Mouths hung open, and the eyes were glazed, while their imaginations worked as hard as a drink muzzled mind could. Except Bob. He dreaded what was to follow. He knew her too well. At least she looked more worried than excited. 

She trusted Bob to look after her. Still she hesitated, looking as though she were in a furious debate over what to do. Something had to be said. The tension was stretching to breaking point.

'Whoever holds my debts, will own me. I shall be owned, therefore, I will have a master. I will be a respectful, dutiful, and obedient slave, to my master, Sirs,' she quietly spoke, with a penetrating seriousness. She bowed her head, and returned to the bar.

The words hadn't been thought through. They emerged from everyone expectantly looking at her, forcing her to say something. They were pieced together from promises made to her master. She surreptitiously looked at the men sitting around the table, opposite her master. In a few minutes, one of these men, a stranger, might own her! The more she thought about what might happen, the more stoked up she became. She needed to calm down and not get carried away. Though it was a little late for that. She had just promised to serve and obey a stranger as his slave! 

Bob couldn't look at her. He should have refused, and just walked away from the table. It was bravado that had him risking Jane in a poker game. The others weren't saying much, but they were impressed by such an incredible notion. They looked at him with curiosity, wondering what it was like to own a beautiful woman.

The game was just between Richard and Bob. There were plenty of chips now. More than enough to outbid the creep, though he made a stupid mistake. Richard had declared all in, when he pushed his chips to the centre of the table. All Bob could do was meet the bet. The final wager left him with an impressive pile of chips, though, what use were they if he lost Jane!

Bob revealed a pair of eights, and Richard revealed an ace and a six. Bob felt more comfortable as he turned up a pair of fives. Everyone avidly watched Richard turn over a pair of sixes. The guy always turned over his best cards first, laying on the drama. This time he wasn't smiling.

Bob turned over another five, for a full house. It was too serious to quip, "beat that".

Richard flipped over another six. 'Four of a kind beats a full house,' he stated, surprisingly, sounding disappointed,

Jane desperately looked around at the players trying to work out what that meant. Who had four of a kind? Did her master have the winning hand? The rat didn't look so pleased, so surely he had lost! Her eyes were too misted up to see the cards.

All eyes turned on her, looking accusing and questioning. Her master looked angry. Was it because she had spilled the beans to the rat? He would spank her when they got back to the suite, she hoped.

'Fetch your new master a drink, Slave,' Richard said, trying out the unfamiliar phrase. 

Jane looked at Bob for help. What was she to do? He didn't look at her. He was concentrating on shuffling the cards. He was slumped in the chair, looking defeated. She looked at Richard, hardly able to believe what had happened. He was staring at her, willing her to do as he had ordered.

'Get to it, Slave,' he cajoled her.

Jane turned away, not wanting to show the emotional turmoil that hit hard. She mixed a bourbon on the rocks, dragging out the task for as long as possible. On stiff legs she forced herself to the rat's side of the table, trying to keep away from him. 

She didn't notice the other two were murmuring everyday chat to each other. They avoided looking at Bob or Richard, and dare not glance at Jane. 

'Stand right here, nice and close to your new master, Slave,' Richard said, looking and feeling more confident. 

He looked up at her, wondering what he could do with her. It was one thing wanting her, another thing entirely owning her. He dismissed his doubts as simply an arrangement to be dealt with tomorrow. Tonight he could enjoy his winnings. He pushed a hand up the dress, and was pleased to feel a bare thigh between suspenders. The hussy was wearing proper stockings. The high heels would have to go, as she seemed taller than him.

She made a move back toward the bar. Feeling him grab her ass stopped her. 

'Keep close to your master, for luck,' he sneered.

Jane tried to concentrate on something else, not wishing to become excited. She felt a finger pushing between her cheeks and pull at the silk string between them. Bob would never have assaulted her in public. This master would not look after her as he had. She gave Bob an appealing look, but he was studiously ignoring her. 

Her new master was prodding her ass before these strangers. It was all the more dreadful that he was touching her in front of her previous master. Bob had been so kind and protective of her. She felt the finger pushing hard, and had to suppress a gasp. Her muscles involuntarily constricted. She reminded herself that she was just a slave and had to submit to her master. She tried to relax. 

His finger delved in. With a great effort, she kept her features neutral, as though nothing was happening. What was he going to do to her once he had her alone? Was this uncaring master going to be the one to take her virgin hole? It seemed this master wouldn't just use her, he would abuse his slave.

'I'm off to the bathroom, just deal me in,' Texas said. 

'Me too, deal me in,' Filipe told Bob.

Texas splashed water over his face, while Filipe tried to pee. 

'So, what's that all about? Am I missing something. Are they running some kind of scam? Slavery was outlawed,' Texas commented, sounding irritable.

'A private arrangement I think. They must be husband and wife playing a game,' Filipe thought out loud.

'It's his wife? How can a guy lose his wife in a card game?' Texas asked.

'You saw it just now. Some people take their bedroom games seriously,' Filipe said, and pointedly looked at the man dripping water over the floor.

'So she just went along with it, to play her husbands' game?' Texas asked, sounding confused.

'Maybe it is her game. A fantasy. I agree, it is a mistake to become so carried away,' Filipe shrugged.

'How can he let that weasel do that to his wife. The little shit obviously has his hand up her dress. Why doesn't she just walk away?' Texas said, shaking his head.

'It must be both their fantasy, I guess. It must be her need, for a stranger to have complete control over her. How far she will go with it, depends,' Filipe shrugged again.

'Depends on what, buddy,' Texas at last remembered his southern drawl.

'Maybe she goes too far, because she is excited, carried away. Then maybe she will be carried away by Richard, her new owner, maybe,' Filipe offered as an explanation.

'No, way. Women don't get carried away, unless they want to,' Texas said, while towelling dry his face and hair.

'Depends on how much they have been playing the game. How deeply she has submitted to her master on previous occasions. Maybe this time she will become carried away, literally. I mean, go home with Richard as his slave,' Filipe, delivered the final statement.

Texas put a big hand on Filipe's shoulder. 'We can't allow that. We had better play a good game. Win her back for him,' he said.

'It is in the lap of lady luck. Maybe she will snap out of it to hit reality before it is too late, maybe not,' he shrugged. 

'Well, we gotta play, and give the guy a chance to win her back,' Texas stated, and strode ahead, back to the card table.

At least when he was holding the cards he wasn't holding her. The big guy, they called Texas, shot her an angry look when he dropped into a chair. Filipe often glanced at her, with a look of curiosity. They were wrong about her being Bob's wife, but right about her being too carried away in a fantasy.

She figured Filipe was wondering what was going on under the dress. Probably imagining it was him fingering her. She was having to lean her hips forward to let the dress fall away from her sex. Otherwise a bulge would show, where his hand was gripping her crotch. He had tried her ass, now he was interested in her pussy. 

Filipe was wondering how far this woman was prepared to go to fulfil her fantasy. Probably only while in front of her husband, where she felt safe. It looked as though Richard's fumbling around was already beyond her comfort zone. Maybe that is something else she desired, to be humiliated in public. This wasn't very public, and certainly safer than outside in the street.

Texas was disgusted that a woman could let a stranger touch her, and in front of her husband too. He bet large and wildly. Filipe joined in, except he kept a cool head. He was curious to see what transpired. He muttered something in Spanish when he lost, sounding curiously pleased.

Jane watched the betting, thinking the other two were also trying to win her. As an hour passed she became used to the idea of being nothing more than an object, to be won on the turn of a card. After all, she was a slave, and that meant obeying a master, however distasteful it might be.




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 09



Richard shoved thumb up her ass, and managed to finger her clit at the same time. Whenever it was someone else's turn to deal, he touched her up, so he knew how wet she was. Her pussy was really flowing now. The bitch was the dirtiest slut he had ever met. He was working her like a glove puppet, enjoying the way she squirmed.

Bob was accumulating chips. The game was rolling high, and all three opponents seemed to have lost their common sense. He didn't realise two of them were trying to help him out. Richard was more concerned with playing with his new toy. Soon he would have to put the contract on the table, as his pile of chips ran low. 

'You're very quiet, slave,' Richard said, while Texas was dealing.

'Yes, master,' she quietly answered.

'So what will you do for your master, when we leave,' he asked. He was showing off his new toy to those around the table. He had their attention, as expected.

'Your slave will obey her master, and will please her master,' she stated.

'In what way will you please your master, slave,' he pushed.

'In any way my master wishes,' she said. 

He wasn't going to let her prevaricate. Instead of letting him drag out what he wanted to hear, she decided to tell it her own way. 

'Slave's body belongs to her master. Slave will obediently submit to her masters needs, whatever they are,' she said, meaning it to end there. 

It wasn't his fingers working her up, it was the declaration of submission, and the humiliation of an audience witnessing her degradation. A twist of his fingers made her gasp. To cover it up, she gave them all something to think about. 

'Slave's mouth, ass, and pussy, are available for master to use. However master wishes to use his slave, his slave will obediently submit. Slave will devote herself to learning, and satisfying masters every whim, Master,' Jane said. 

Her voice was light and breathy, sounding sexy. With a dry mouth she had to lick her lips half way through the sordid promise. Her full pouting lips added to the impression of being a sexed up slut.

Everyone was silent, even Richard. They could all see the woman was aroused. Texas wondered if Felipe was right, that a woman could become so sexually aroused that anything went. It sure looked that way. The guy must know what his wife was like, and so he must know what would happen if Richard got her home. He felt like getting up and banging their heads together, to knock some sense into them. Instead he sat there trying to concentrate on the cards. 

'Deal the cards,' Bob said, trying to hurry Filipe. 

He knew her well enough to see she had gone beyond the point of return. She was so horny, he could detect the familiar musky smell from across the table. Jane wouldn't be able to resist obeying the bastard, just as she had declared.

Richard's hands were on the table picking up cards as they were dealt. His eyes didn't see them, as he imagined his fantasies being fulfilled by a sexy, willing slave. 

Two hours had passed since Bob had lost his slave. He couldn't bear to watch her being mauled by the bastard. Instead, he closely concentrated on the cards, determined to win her back. 

Richard had lost, while the other two players either beat him, or purposely lost to Bob. Holding a good hand meant Richard didn't want to fold, and he didn't want to use the slave's debt document. He hesitated over the dilemma.

'Just do it,' Texas threatened him. 

Richard had been playing for two hours under a fierce scrutiny from both Texas, and Bob. Filipe seemed neutral, yet he too glared at him. 

'You know the right thing to do,' Filipe quietly spoke. 

There was a hardness to his voice that was felt all the more because it was unexpected. The man had seemed amused with life, taking nothing seriously, yet now he looked dangerous, even though he smiled. It was something in the eyes that promised violence. 

'This is the last hand. I win, I take the slave away with me, agreed?' Richard said.

Filipe spoke for the others, when he said, 'Agreed.' 

Bob didn't want to agree, but if it meant a chance of winning her back, he would have to. 

Under the combined glares of anger, there was no choice. Richard slowly pushed the piece of crumpled paper to the centre of the table. The other three looked at each other, confirming the game was on.

That small movement from her new master re-enforced her position. Her head fell forward, bowing her head in shame. She was being used as a bargaining chip. She really was nothing more than an object to be won or lost. She would be passed from man to man, according to their luck. She no longer had a free will, no choices to make, she just had to be a submissive and obedient to whoever won her. 

It was just the same as that auction many weeks ago. Only this time, cards were used to see who would have her. Anyone of them might be taking her home this morning, to be used as a sex slave. She had already declared how immoral she was by letting this new master finger her. It fired their determination to have her, and fired her imagination to be taken. She stood with legs apart, a symbol of availability, throbbing with anticipation.

The betting increased at a rapid rate. Richard sat back to look at his opponents. They couldn't all have such a good hand they were prepared to continue betting. It confirmed there was a conspiracy. It wasn't a set-up, the slave was real, this whole game was real. All three were conspiring again him, willing him to lose. He looked up at the slave, and twisted his features into wiry grin.

'I fold,' he said, facing the inevitable. 

Considering the amount in the pot, Texas laid down a pathetic hand. Ace high. Filipe had a pair of aces. Bob turned over three of a kind. Richard laughed. He had never been paranoid, but they were all against him. His slave just stood there, waiting for instructions, not knowing who had won her.

'It was good while it lasted,' Richard said. He put his hand up Jane's dress, and patted her bare bottom. 'Go to your new master, slave,' he said, immensely enjoying the phrase for the last time.

Jane didn't know who had won her. At least she wasn't still the property of the rat featured man. 

Texas puffed out his chest, feeling, and looking victorious. They had worked together and won her back. Justice had been served, though he still felt someone needed roughing up. 

In a big, put-on Texas drawl, he said, 'Go to your, master.'

Jane was buzzing with arousal, unable to think straight. Thinking the Texan meant he had won her, she staggered round the table to him. As she passed Bob, he took her hand.

'Glad to have you back, Slave,' he choked, then broke out a bright smile, like a schooner unfurling the mainsail. 

Jane swooned from relief, to find her master owned her once more. Gazing intently into each others' eyes, it looked as though they were transmitting information, which they were, all of it was raw emotions. They didn't hear the excited Texan drawl, or Filipe's steady explanation to his new friend. They were lost in a world of their own.

Texas looked around to find Richard had slipped away. 'Just as well,' he muttered. 

After thanking the guys for their help, Bob avoided questions, to escape to their suite.

***

Jane stood in the centre of the room, watching her master slump into an easy chair. 

'Master,' she said. 

She was trying to calm down. Her whole body fizzed with need, yet she had something important to say. After saying those awful things to the rat man, she needed to declare herself to her master. It was strange to think she had been owned by another man, and returned to her lovely master, by propitious luck.

'Yes, slave,' he said, and yawned. He brushed a hand over his face, feeling very tired. 

'Your slave is so pleased to be back with her lovely master,' she said. This wasn't it, she needed something more to express how she felt.

'Your slave has been won in a game of cards, Master,' she began.

He was too exhausted to listen to her ramblings. She too looked drained by the experience, yet he knew she was hot as hell, raring to go. He needed to put a stop to this game of hers. It very nearly ended in disaster, and should have been a wake-up call, bringing her back to reality. Instead she had been prepared to go away with a stranger, as his slave.

'Stop! I'm too tired,' he angrily stated.

'Master is angry with his slave. Slave must be punished for being so bad,' she began again.

'Not tonight, slave,' he said. 

Regretting using the stupid term, from habit, he put a hand up to stop whatever she had in mind.

'Tomorrow,' he said. 

It was gone three in the morning, so recrimination would be saved until later, but who could think straight after all they had gone through. 

'To bed,' he said, as a way of shutting her up.

He didn't have enough energy to stop her undressing him, so just surrendered to the inevitable. He fell down into the cool sheets, ready to close his eyes. He could smell her sex, and feel how aroused she was. 

'No! You will get down the bed, and suck me until I wake,' he told her. 

It was meant as a punishment, to deny her sex, then he saw her enthusiasm. 

'Thank you master, your slave is grateful' she said.

He was too overcome to change the order. Besides, he felt sorry for her. She sorely needed satisfying, and there was no way he could give her what she needed. He lay there a moment, with eyes flickering, hardly aware of what she was doing, then fell asleep.

Jane sucked his cock into her mouth, desperate to regain her master, to have him want her, and look after her. This night had shown how depraved she was, and how much she needed a masters' protection. Being won in a poker game, meant she was just an object of value to be bartered. She needed to feel worthy of her master, and would work hard to be his object of pleasure. An appendage to her master's cock, was all she was now. She ached for him to want her, and to be her protective master. 

Suckling her masters cock for comfort, she too fell asleep.



Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 10



A Visitor Takes Her

Bob worked hard to make Jane feel safe at home. The slave fantasy held her in a powerful addictive grip, like drugs or alcohol. She wasn't addicted to sex, at least not to that alone. She had become hooked on humiliation, which left her so aroused, all normal inhibitions were discarded. He at least worked that out. What do with her to break the spell was more difficult to grasp. 

Instead of putting her through cold turkey, he decided to decrease her dependency, slowly. That he might manage, or so he hoped. It was a fine balance between weaning her off this unhealthy behaviour, and making her feel unwanted. The more unsettled she was the more she clung onto being his slave. He was responsible for her, and there was no way he could send her on her way. Where to? Back to Margaret, or Vegas, no, he just couldn't. 

The feeling of being trapped in her bizarre world wore off. They comfortably slumped into their roles of master and slave, like slipping into an old pair of slippers. As the weeks passed Jane learnt to be less demanding. 

There were normal moments when she caught up with her daughter on the phone. He wondered what would happen when Louise decided to come home from her sabbatical. She was having fun in Mexico with a fellow student, a girl, or so she said. Louise thought they were an item, unmarried, but living together. She evidently approved, as Jane revealed after a congratulatory conversation. At least the moment of confrontation had been averted while Louise spent the break, and allowance, with new friends.

Bob thought about his own daughter. What was he going to say to her? Would she be as pleased as Louise, that her father had a new woman in the house? He was just a man and had no idea how a young woman would react. Would she think her mother was being replaced. At least she was a couple of years older than Louise, and maybe more able to accept it.

The autumn leaves were falling, and a cold north wind was blowing. Bob took a walk around the lake, getting fresh air into his lungs and working off her fine home style cooking. Or maybe he was just escaping cabin fever, and her. 

'Hi, Mrs McKenzie?' the delivery guy asked.

'No, I'm a servant,' Jane blurted out. She was flustered, from opening the door to a stranger, while expecting her master.

'You had better come in out of the cold. My err, he's due home any moment,' she assured him.

'Thanks,' he said, not sure what to call the woman. He thought it a bit old fashioned to call someone a servant. It confirmed his opinion, that out here in the woods people were strange. 

'Mr McKenzie needs to sign for these legal papers. He also needs to sign each document. My instructions are to get him to sign them straight away. If he needs time, I can come back,' he reluctantly said. 

It was a long haul on a bad road, so he didn't want to make a double trip. 

'You're welcome to wait. Would you like something to eat? There's hot pot, or I could fix you a sandwich,' Jane offered.

After cleaning his steamed up glasses he put them back on. He looked around the spotlessly clean kitchen, and welcomed the offer. At the same time he turned to the woman, to ask her name. She was stretching up to reach a bowl on a high shelf. About to offer his help, his jaw dropped open instead. A glimpse of old fashioned stocking tops, and garters, was an even more welcome surprise. 

When she turned around he couldn't help giving her a big friendly grin.

'Wait until you taste it,' she smiled back.

'I can't wait to taste it,' he cheekily said. 'Do you always wear stockings?' he asked. 'I was wondering if it would be a suitable present for my aunt,' he quickly added,

'It depends on what she likes to wear, or her husband likes her to wear,' Jane quietly said.

'She isn't married, so I guess it's up to her,' he plunged on, glad she hadn't taken offence at the spontaneous remark. 

It was perhaps going too far, but he had always pushed his luck, as you never knew when it would pay off. The woman was around thirty, therefore five years older. Not old enough to think of him as a toy boy, or be grateful for his attention.

'The hot pot is very good. Do you enjoy cooking?' he asked. 

'I do, it's both relaxing and creative. About as artistic as I could ever be,' she smiled. 

'If I get the stockings as a present, what do I buy to hold them up?' he asked, trying to sound innocent and ignorant.

'That's easy, there's a few ways. There are stay up ones, with elastic around the tops. The ones I wear need a suspender belt, or a corset,' she told him.

He gave her an uncomprehending look, ready to ask what she meant.

'I guess you don't know what I mean,' she said, on seeing his puzzled look. 

'You'll have to show me,' he quipped. 

The joke came out more forcefully than intended. Knowing he was going too far with someone he hadn't worked out yet, was risky. It sounded too much like a demand, rather than something he could turn into a joke if she took offence.

The phrase caught her by surprise. The delivery guy had ordered her to show him the suspender belt! Bob helped her get back some self-control since the Vegas trip, but she was fighting the idea of an order having to be obeyed. She considered he was just teasing, and didn't expect her to expose herself. That helped.

Tommy stared at her, wondering why she just stood there, looking as though her batteries had expired. Was she going to explode and throw him out? Maybe she was one of those frustrated housewives he occasionally came across. This woman was delicious, not like the frumpy housewives he had to carefully turn down.

Jane new that look. The excitement in his eyes was familiar from when she and Margaret teased clients. A thrill from being naughty, like old times, spurred her on.

Her hands reached down to the hem, and began lifting it before she had a chance to fight the impulse. It was only a small mistake. She wasn't going to do anything stupid.

Tommy watched the slow, hesitant movement. Damn! He took it all in. The black stockings were held up by straps, pulled tight from a belt of red silk wrapped around her hips. It was impossible to pull his eyes away from the little red triangle of silk covering her mound.

'What's it like at the back?' he asked, with a quavering voice. 

Watching the slow turn, brought on a feeling he had an accident, and this was heaven. She stopped with the dress up around her waist, showing off a cute peachy bottom. A ribbon of silk disappeared between the cheeks, pulling an immodest triangle taught over her lips.

The well used teasing mode kicked in, for her to say, 'Do you like it, sir? Will it be a suitable present for you,' she innocently asked.

'I don't know about my aunt. I certainly like it. A beautiful present for me,' he said, with a longing sigh. 

Tommy had always been careful when delivering legal documents to clients. Especially divorce papers to lonely women. Building up a good business reputation was paramount, and he had to act with professionalism. This was kicking all that out the window, including his better judgement.

Jane couldn't help taunting him a little more, just for the fun of it, nothing more. Very little provocation was needed to have her behaving like a slut, but she told herself she was much better now. It had been four whole days, and nights, without sex. That was a long time for her, so she should have been more careful.

She looked over her shoulder at him, and asked, 'Do you want anything else, Sir?' 

The innocent act wasn't fooling him. She might be a dumb blond, but no-one was that stupid. She knew what she was doing to him. Even so, it was irresistible, and he had to try pushing things further. 

'The bra, does that match, like a set or something?' he asked.

Jane hesitated, not wanting to remove the dress. She couldn't let a stranger order her to undress, that was going too far. A tremor of sexual tension pulled at her tummy. She wasn't out of control, she could manage the feelings. She didn't have Margaret's instructions to follow, so she could back away when she wanted to. This wasn't a clients office, this was her master's home, so she was safe. The guy was just sitting there not getting close. It wouldn't hurt to flirt and let him see her underwear, for she had done far worse in the past.

Again her hands seemed to move of their own accord. The dress was up around her head before she realised. It caught in an earring. She pulled hard, and hurt the ear. 

'Sir, can you help me, I've caught an earring in the dress. I dare not break it,' she appealed to him.

Tommy hardly heard her speak. The thin red silk bra, matched the panties. With the dress stuck over her head, it pulled her breasts up into a deep cleavage. Again she tugged at the dress for them to bounce free. The wobble of large breasts was fascinating. The red silk seemed to be painted on, with the nipples erupting. 

'Sir?' she said, still struggling to get her arms and head free.

'Sure,' he eventually answered. 

From sitting down to standing close to her, hadn't registered with him. One moment he was sitting, the next he had is arms around her.

'Keep still, I'm trying to find where its caught,' he told her. 

She did as she was told, which pleased him. He figured she had engineered this, and that he was being manipulated. What the hell! He figured she wasn't the client so maybe that let him off the hook. He didn't want to think about the consequences if she made an official complaint. Fellow professionals often joked it was all part of the job. 

He bunched up the dress above her head in a fist, taking his time looking her over. This close he could see the smoothness of her skin, and hear her heavy breathing.

She ached for his touch, to feel his hands on her wanton body. It was no good fighting it. After all this time she knew what she was. She couldn't help being a slut. She needed sex and was what her master called, beyond the point of return. There was nothing she could do to oppose whatever he wanted, and she desperately hoped he wanted her.

'You all right in there, your breathing heavily,' he quipped.

'Yes, sir. Take your time, I don't want to break the earring,' she said.

'Such perfect breasts can't be real,' he sighed.

She felt his breath on her cleavage and shuddered. 'They are real, not false, sir. See for yourself, sir,' she murmured.

He hadn't realised he spoke out loud. Did she really man he could feel her breasts? He couldn't refuse the offer. He cupped a breast to gently jiggle it. Both nipples grew like thick short pencils. He pinched one between two fingers, while continuing to knead the breast. He tried the other breast, squeezing the nipple harder this time. 

Again she moaned quietly, sounding more distinctly aroused this time.

He looked down between her legs to see she was damp, with the panties clinging to a swollen labia. There wasn't much room in the red triangle, and it strained to contain the parcel. There was a crease between her lips, with a clear wet patch forming.

No longer holding back, he commented, 'Your wet.' 

It sounded like an accusation, though meant as a comment to see how she reacted. It was rude, but what did that matter when he was fondling a breast.

'Where, sir?' she asked, hoping for more.

'Here,' he said, and cupped her sex. 

'Yes, sir,' is all she could say. The drawn out words conveyed she was ready, and wanting him.

He pushed a hand up inside the folds of the dress, to an ear. Deftly he untangled the material and pulled the dress off, to unveil a box of delights. She was quivering. If he didn't know better, he would have said she was cold. All the signs were there, for she shivered and her nipples were swollen. Her body was alive with sexual need. 

'Thank you, sir. What may I do for you in return, sir?' she said, while licking her rose bud lips. 

She left them pursed, as though she were about to engulf his cock. All the tricks Margaret had taught her, had become an automatic response.

'Fuck!' he exclaimed. 

His hands were still over her shoulders, from when the dress fell to the floor. Her breasts were pushed up again his chest. This close he could feel the heat of her sex. His cock was straining at his trousers and his balls ached. So this is what a ball breaker is. The thought passed from his mind, with everything else, apart from wanting her.

'Yes, sir. I am yours to fuck,' she hurriedly said, as though it were about time he got on with it.

She turned around, bent over the back of a kitchen chair, and stretched to grip the seat. Her legs were spread, with feet hooked either side of the legs. She looked over her shoulder, and seductively licked her lips. 

He needed encouragement as he was just standing there, amazed. He pulled the crotch of the panties to one side with one hand, and unzipped his cock with the other. It bounced out looking for a target with its one eye. The flirting, seduction, and foreplay had been thoroughly accomplished. He leant forward with an unbending rod of iron, slipped between her lips, and buried his cock deep.

Jane was lifted up on tiptoe. She groaned a sound of grateful satisfaction. So sensitive had she become, an instant orgasm twisted through her tummy from her sex directly into her brain. It lingered there for a moment, until she began to pant with another orgasm ready to follow on its heels. The steady careful rhythm wasn't enough.

She was caught between one orgasm and another. Not since Mark screwed her, had she experienced multiple orgasms. She was desperate to cum, knowing how deep and satisfying a second one would be.

'Make me cum, sir! Fuck me hard, sir!' she loudly moaned.

The telephone rang.

'You better answer that,' Tommy panted. 

He needed his breath if he was going to satisfy her demands. He was out of condition, after spending too much time stuck behind a wheel, and consuming too much fast food. The call would help him calm down and last longer. Besides, it might be Mr McKenzie. He would wonder where she was if she didn't answer. 

He had it figured out. She was a nympho, kept out here in the woods away from men, by her uncle.

He just about reached the phone and put it to her ear. 

'Hello?' she managed to say. 

A slight movement of his cock inside her, nudging deep inside, had her moaning.

'You OK?' Bob asked, sounding concerned.

'Yes, master,' she said, trying to keep her breathing under control.

'I've met up with Martin, an old friend of mine. We're going to do some fishing, so I'll be late home,' he said. He sounded like a guilty husband. 

'OK, master, I'll be here,' she said. 

He couldn't say anything on the phone in front of his friend. He'd stumbled upon Jane playing with a vibrator a couple of weeks back. Her eyes were tightly shut and his moment of foolish jealousy almost ruined her moment. Instead he backed out of the room to leave her to it. He assumed that was what she was up to now. 

'I know what you're up to, naughty girl,' he whispered.

'Sorry, Master,' she whispered back, 

Aghast at his words, she tried to stand up. The guy's weight held her down. She felt disgusted with herself. She was talking to her master, with a strangers cock inside her, and he knew! The guilt tore right through her, blowing away the arousal.

'Carry on. It might help calm you down,' he chuckled.

'Your naughty slave needs to be punished, master,' she whimpered.

'I'll punish you when I get home,' he chuckled. 'Don't worry, I approve, go ahead and enjoy yourself,' he said.

'Here's your beer, Bob,' someone said. 

The muted voice was obviously the friend. They weren't going fishing, just catching up on old times with a beer. With great relief she heard the click of the phone going down. 

Bob covered what his friend might have heard. 'She's buying an outfit on the internet. I'm enjoying myself, so why not let her enjoy herself,' he said. He was relieved his friend didn't seem to have heard the conversation.

Tommy heard it all, from being close to her ear, and the telephone. He was concentrating on keeping from banging into her, and trying make sense of the conversation. He heard that she was given permission to carry on, which was curious, but his mind was on a single track. He slammed the phone down, and slammed into her.

Jane was mortified. A stranger was humping her, and her master had given his permission! She had begged him to fuck her hard, and he was starting to do just that. Feeling guilty brought her down to earth with a shattering thump. No longer desperate, she wanted him to stop. He was just using her body without her involvement. She couldn't stop him now, nothing would.

It was very bad to have a stranger fuck her, while she spoke to her master. She was worse than a slut. She was a whore. Her master deserved better. He was trying to help her reform, but it was hopeless. She was just a worthless slut. 

The guilt turned to humiliation. The degradation slammed into her, robbing her of the energy to resist. The slut in her became more powerful, removing her inhibitions.

'Fuck me harder, punish my slutty cunt, pound my cunt,' she beseeched him.

Tommy couldn't hold back. He slammed into her, shoving her over the chair. With a final push, he held her pinned to it. He wrapped his arms around her, tightly gripping her breasts. She lifted her head to loudly wail, bashing his nose. A long deep orgasm racked her body. He finally pumped the last of his sperm into her.

He slumped into a chair, exhausted. He figured a good work out in the gym was needed. His mind was in a whirl of wonder over what just happened. She went to pull the chair he had taken her over, to sit down. 

'Here,' he said, patting his lap. 

She adjusted the crotch of her panties, and realised there was little to absorb his sperm, so grabbed a towel, and sat where she had been told. What was he going to do now, she wondered? By taking her, he had made her his. She belonged to him, at least until her master returned. Her master had escaped for an evening with a friend, whereas she had escaped with a stranger, in a more intimate way. A pang of guilt washed through her, pushing away the afterglow of sex. That was all it was. He would go soon, now he had used her.

'You don't know me, so you can tell me, I mean,' he hesitantly spoke. 'Are you, what are you doing here?' he asked.

He heard her on the phone calling someone master, so he couldn't help wondering what she was up to. This stranger had invaded Bob's home and taken his slave. It was all her fault of course. She couldn't look at him, couldn't bring herself to explain. 

'Are you a nymphomaniac?' he finally asked. 

This was a surprise. What was she to say? Was that better than being a slave, or a slut. Was she a slave to her sexual wantonness?

'I'm a stranger, you can tell me. I might not ever see you again, so it's safe to talk. I want to know. That's all,' he fumbled along.

'Maybe I am. Maybe I'm just a slut,' she mumbled back.

'It's refreshing to meet a woman who isn't afraid to say and do what she wants. Maybe you've been too long out here, away from civilisation,' he offered, as a way of letting her off the hook.

'No. It's not that. I get worked up, can't hold back,' she said. 'Maybe I am a nymphomaniac. Does that put you off?' she asked.

'If it means you want more, then no,' he joked. 

His warm smile filtered through her like a warm bath. It washed away the worry she felt. She smiled back. 

'So, do you like stockings and suspenders?' she joked back at him.

'On you they're wonderful. You have the figure to wear them, not many do. You're gorgeous,' he said, with feeling.

'Do you have a wife,' she asked, and immediately regretted the question. 'Sorry, I didn't mean. . .' she said, trying to back track.




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 10



'No, no wife, or even a girlfriend,' he said. 'No one will put up with the odd hours I work. Building up a business is hard work. What did you do before you came here?' he asked.

'A personal assistant, or secretary really. I used to travel with the boss to clients,' she said, purposely missing out the details. 'She was a demanding boss,' Jane added, to clear up what he was obviously thinking, that it was a demanding male boss. His face cleared so she added, 'She was a very beautiful woman, and a tease. I might have slept with her,' she joked.

'Oh! Nice for you. Did you?' he teased.

'Mmm, no. Disappointed?' she teased right back.

'An interesting image, the two of you. Must have been difficult for the clients to concentrate on business,' he said.

'We teased them relentlessly until they gave in. They always did,' she boasted. 

'I can imagine. Is that when you started wearing stockings?' he asked.

'Yes, good guess,' she said. Thinking of those fun times was working on her. 

'You didn't get to check properly. I mean, if my breasts are real or not,' she said, not wanting to dwell on the past. 

This was an obvious distraction, but it worked. His expression changed from weighing her up, to wanting to weigh her breasts.

'If you're going to do something, do it properly,' she chided him. 

Jane reached behind her back, and pinched the catch. Her breasts moved outward from being squeezed into a cleavage, and bounced. They were impressively firm, and she was proud of them. How silly she had been, to hide herself under dull clothes for all those years. 

She watched his hands carefully cup them, and rub them. Her nipples responded to his firm touch. 

'Men seem to enjoy them so much, I should indulged them more,' she joked. 

'Your skin is so soft and smooth,' he commented, ignoring her remark.

'I could take them out in a mall, for men to maul. It would be bliss, to let them kiss, and I'm fond of fondling to,' she tried to rhyme.

'You certainly have talent, two of them,' he said.

He leaned forward to sucked a nipple into his mouth, then licked and bit it. She watched him with amusement, as he tried to suck as much of a breast into his mouth as possible. 

'Why do men get so much pleasure from breasts?' she asked.

'So many men like your breasts? I'm not surprised,' he ribbed her.

'I mean,' she began, but couldn't help joining in. 'Men enjoy them so much, so why not spread some happiness in a miserable world,' she laughed. 

He was making a meal of them. How could she deny him so much pleasure, so she let him carry on, despite them starting to ache. 

He came up for air, and asked, 'You thinking of taking them on a world tour?'

'Men often stare at them, so maybe I should let them have a closer look. They're a natural gift, so I should share my good fortune, don't you agree?' she asked. She chuckled to herself, finding he was too busy to answer.

'It's difficult going into a bar, as after one drink I become a dumb blonde. There's always some cheeky guy who wants a closer look at them, and take advantage of a dumb blonde. I started wearing a cut off t-shirt to make it easier. I just lift it over them, and let him check them out. Just to keep him quiet. Of course, they all want a go then. It's unfair to let one and not the others play with them. It's nice how they become like little boys in a sweet shop, so appreciative,' she murmured.

His attention was heating her up. She shouldn't have been telling him one of her dumb blond fantasies. Not that he was listening. 

'With a cut off t-shirt I've really got to wear a little skirt, so it looks right. That causes a problem though. When I'm a dumb blond, they easily talk me into playing pool. All that bending over with my ass in the air gets them going,' she whispered. 

It was so naughty recounting her fantasy she continued.

'They've already sensitized my nipples, by fondling and kissing them, so brushing my breasts over the pool table gets me going. They won't let me put my breasts away, because they're too good to cover up. The silly blond that I am, loves their compliments, and falls for everything they say. They are playing for money, but I'm let off, and only have to play for kisses. All that kissing and fondling makes me so horny, you can imagine what happens next. Sometimes it's just the winner I have to pay, and other times its all the guys who won. They tell me I've teased them, and can't go without finishing what I started. So I just have to help them out. I can't let all those hard cocks go to waste, can I?' Jane breathlessly said. 

She couldn't go on. The teasing sucking on her breasts made the fantasy so much more real, compared to when she was playing with a vibrator. She was panting, and slowly shaking her head from side to side. 

'Please, master, let me have your cock,' she pleaded.

She pushed his head away from her breasts, and slid to the floor onto her knees. Opening his fly she grabbed his cock, and gulped it into her mouth, as though she were starving. 

Tommy sat back in the chair watching her suck his rod, with a big grin on his face. He wondered if he could stand much more of this. To his surprise she had him growing hard. Even more surprising was how much of him she was taking. Her cheek was bulging out, then after a deep breath, she took it all. He felt the tightness of her throat, and realised what she was doing. 

Damn! She had swallowed his rod whole, with her lips pressed against his balls. She began to bob her head in a steady rhythm, along the whole length of his hardness. It took a monumental effort, but he had to stop her.

'Stop! I want you,' he gasped. 

'Yes, please, sir,' she moaned. 

She pulled him from the chair and dragged him to her room. He went willingly, stumbling behind her eager entreaties to hurry. She stripped his clothes off and pulled him onto the bed. They smothered each other in kisses, with hands exploring each other's bodies. 

Impatiently she rolled on top of him, positioned herself, and lowered her sex onto his cock. She rode him hard, pressing down all the way, then rocking forward to feel it almost lost, then rocked back to impale herself. He reached up to her jiggling breasts to hold them tight. She was doing all the work, and he let her get on with it. She was so tight, the sensations were amazing. The second time around meant he could relax and enjoy it, knowing he could last.

She was in another world of pleasure, and what else he could only guess at. She exhaled loudly, moaned something unintelligible and sat very still, impaled upon his rod. She quivered all over, moaning guttural sounds. He had never witnessed anyone orgasm so deeply, or become so carried away. It took over her entire being. 

That he gave her such pleasure left him feeling strong, and pleased with himself. He was still hard with his rod deep inside. She squirmed on it, prolonging the sensations of a deep orgasm. 

'Thank, you, sir!' she hissed. 

With a big soppy grin on his ace, he watched her deflate, like a sex doll with a leak. He guided her with a firm grip on her breasts to his chest. Just the head of his rod was still inside her. He felt her squeeze her thighs together, and wriggle to absorb him. She lay with legs straight, thighs pressed tight, on top of him. His arms were around her holding on tight. 

Intermittently he lifted his hips, to elicit little mewling sounds from deep with her throat. It was both amusing and satisfying, as it felt as though he were in complete control. He had her body tightly held, and her mind was still in the grip of overwhelming bliss. He reached her by pushing his rod into her, extracting a sigh and a moan.

Her eyes flickered open, and she asked, 'What are you doing to me?'

'Making love,' he smiled.

'No. It can't be that. Your fucking me, that's all,' she corrected him.

'If you don't like it. . .' he said, and left the idea hanging.

'I like it. I love it! It was wonderful. So, so very intense. You're still inside me!' she said, with surprise. Her mind and body were only just becoming aware.

'It was nice watching you,' Tommy warmly smiled.

He felt her squirming, not knowing if she wanted rid of him, or was playing. When she tried to slid off him, he gripped her tighter, with her arms pinned. He was highly amused, keeping her impaled on his rod.

She pushed her hips down onto him, slowly riding him. Catching herself doing it, she stopped, then started up again. Becoming annoyed with her lack of restraint, she complained, 'You'll ruin me! Let me go.' The sound of her voice betrayed she didn't want him to.

He slowly pushed and almost withdrew, with piston like movements in her vagina. She gripped tight to feel every tingling movement. He shoved in deep, and she felt him shudder. Knowing he was spurting his cum deep inside started her off once again. A light enjoyable orgasm put a big smile on her face.

They sighed in unison, and stared into each others' eyes.

'Do you want to try a new position?' he grinned.

'I doubt you could show me anything new,' she taunted him.

He pulled her head toward him, and kissed her deeply. She let him, passively. They were nose to nose, on the point of giggling like adolescents. 

'A different kind of position,' he teased. 'You said, you were a secretary. I'll take you home, to be my housekeeper and secretary.' 

Avoiding his stare she turned her head against his chest, listening to his heart beating. He had taken her, making her his, at least for the moment, until her master arrived home. In the meantime she had to fight a need to obey him. Unwittingly he made the proposal sound like an order. She had already let her master down by having sex with this stranger. It must be remembered that it was just the sex that had her falling for him. It was ensnaring her more tightly than his embrace.

She shook her head, in an attempt to free the desire of falling into something wrong. He couldn't keep her as safe as her master does. Her master loved her, and was paying Louise' college fees. It would be easier to refuse this man if her master had admitted he loved her. If only he had told her so.

'Is that your answer?' he asked.

For a moment she thought the strength to refuse him had been found. She hadn't spoken, so her shake of the head must have been misunderstood. Knowing it would be impossible to refuse him anything he wanted, she kept silent. 

'I can be insistent. I might not let you go. I might just carry you away from here,' he quietly said.

Had he guessed how vulnerable she was? It wouldn't take much to have her submitting to him, being taken away as his slave. 

'Please, let me go,' she murmured. 

He released the grip on her body, when she had meant to be free of his grip upon her mind. It helped. 

'I need to shower,' she simply stated, and left the room. 

For safety sake she ran to the master bedroom to use that bathroom, to be out of his way. She was still within his reach, still influenced by their intimacy. Showering away the smell of their passion, a mixture of sweat and sex juices, she gathered what resources she had left, ready to resist him. How had a stranger come into her master's home and so completely take her over?

In the kitchen they both smelt fresh. Cooking aromas covered the musky smell of sex. The evidence of their intercourse hung in the air between them, strong and tangible, almost touchable. 

'What is this gorgeous pudding?' he asked, spooning it in with enthusiasm. 

She knew he would be hungry after their vigorous exercises. It gave her great satisfaction just watching him eat. 'Trifle,' she said.

'You've already trifled with my affections, young lady,' he quipped between mouthfuls. 

'I'm neither young, nor a lady,' she seriously replied. 

'You're a wicked slut,' he laughed. 'You bewitched me, and took advantage of my body,' he joked. 

'Yes, Sir. You're right,' she pleasantly replied. 

'You won't run away with me?' he asked, looking solemn.

'There's no future for a runaway slave,' she threw back at him.

He took a long hard look at her. For a moment she thought the throw away statement had allowed him to guess her place there. How could she explain all that happened to bring her into such a deplorable state. Her downfall was her fault, no one else's. Financially, emotionally, and morally she belonged to a master. That was how things were, and would remain.

'Well, if you change your mind, I'll leave my card. Contact me anytime, just call, and I'll whisk you away,' he promised.

They hugged, holding on so tight it was difficult to breathe. 'You'd better go, before my. . .' she whispered in her ear. She avoided saying, her master. 

'Your resolve to stay melts?' he chided her. 

'I can't leave, it's an enchanted cottage,' she smiled.

'I'd better go before the ogre arrives and eats me,' he said, sounding disappointed. 

She was about to say something about her eating him, but he had to go. 'Go, please,' she begged.

As soon as the door was closed she sprayed the kitchen and bedrooms with air fragrance. The dress and underwear were thrown into the washer, and she got dressed. Another spin around the house, confirmed there was no evidence of her betrayal. She tried not to cry. She had been disloyal to a good man. He had put a lot of effort into bringing her back to earth, from that downward spiral in Las Vegas. 

He had given her back some self-worth, and in a couple of hours she had thrown it all away. Maybe not all. She hadn't run off with him. It was just sex wasn't it? She didn't love her master, so did it count? No! It did matter, and it was so wrong it hurt. 

A bang on the door frightened her. Had he returned to take her away, like a prize object? It wouldn't be a kidnapping, it would be theft, because she was property, no longer a person with rights. She was just an object he used, and had come back to claim it.

'The doors locked,' Bob shouted. 

With great relief she opened the door, and he fell against her. She almost burst into tears at the sight of her master, home to look after her. He weaved to the kitchen table and leaned heavily on it with both hands. 

'Too much to drink. The cold air got me. Not used to it,' he said. Despite being out of kilter, he was talking clearly. 

His eyes tried to focus on a package on the table in front of him. 'What's this?' he asked.

'Documents were delivered by a courier,' she said, over her shoulder, while making coffee.

'They're your slave documents. You're a registered slave now,' he declared. 'If you don't behave yourself, I'll use them to sell you,' he said.

A tear ran down her cheek. She quickly grabbed a towel to wipe it away, before he noticed. The towel smelled of their sex! She had wiped a mixture of that strangers sperm, and her own musky stickiness over her face! If her master decided to kiss her, he would discover she had betrayed him! She deserved to be sold! 

'I'm going to bed. Need to sleep it off. Don't wake me early,' he warned.

***

Next morning, steering clear of him was easy as he was recovering from a hangover. She spoke quietly from consideration, he thought, but it was much more than that. He didn't notice she was more deferential than usual either. Feeling guilty from her depraved behaviour, she could hardly bear to be near him, feeling it was a lie to act normally.

Time healed her wounds. A few weeks went by, living her life as a dutiful slave. He tried to shake her out of this demeaning position, but guilt kept her firmly locked into duty, and obedience. A couple of times she tried to manoeuvre him into saying he loved her. Instead she had to be content with his kind attention, warm cuddles, and with the badly needed occasional sex. 

She often wondered if he might sell her. Even after finding the slave documents were really to do with the business he sold, she still worried. It had been a joke, but the idea settled in her mind. To some degree it made it easier to accept that evening of wanton behaviour. A force within drove her into wanting to be nothing more than a slave. It didn't matter who owned her, she was just a slave. 

She subtly resisted his efforts to correct the way she thought of herself, and eventually he gave up. They settled into a happy state, as master and slave. With him it was just a habit, though for her, it was a necessity.

'Slave!' he shouted. 

Jane came running to his study, wondering what the matter was. He had been on the phone for a long time, and he looked worried.

'Master,' she said, and bowed her head.

'My brother is ill. I need to go to the hospital for tests. I might be a bone marrow donor for him. Any idea what that entails?' he asked. 

Jane blinked her eyes in confusion. It had been a long time since being asked for her opinion, or advice, or to make any sort of decision. She was out of practice, almost unable to think for herself. Once a week she made a grocery list, and that was about all.

'Sorry, master,' she said.

'I'll have to go, I'm the only family he has. It seems I'm always bailing him out of trouble. Usually its gambling debts. I tried to get him to move out of Vegas, to get away from temptation, but Steve never listens to his older brother,' he complained.

'Yes, master,' is all she could say. This was news to her, that he had a brother.

'I'll be gone for a few days. You had better pack me a bag,' he ordered. 

'Master!' she exclaimed.

'What?' 

'A bag, for slave, master?' she awkwardly asked.

'No. I'll be in the hospital, and you can't stay there. You'll be in a hotel room by yourself, and that is too dangerous, especially after what happened last time. Someone might whisk you away, and I'll be out of pocket,' he said. 

He didn't mean it. He wanted to tell her he wanted to keep her safe, because he cared so much for her. He loved her but couldn't express emotion, it seemed frightening to leave himself open.

'Master, your slave needs looking after, by a master,' she forlornly stated. 

'You're right,' he sighed. He thought of Margaret, though that wasn't ideal. 

There seemed little choice. Jane kept perfectly still while keenly watching him. As a slave she was helpless. There was nothing she could do, except hope her master relented, and took her with him.

The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. After a short conversation he put it down. 

'That was Elizabeth. Steve phoned her first, to soften me up I guess. The hospital beat her to it. She's back in the country from an archaeology dig. She's on her way here to visit, but while I'm in hospital. . . Maybe she can babysit the, err, house?' he mused. 

A quick phone call had her agreeing. She was up for free board and lodging, without the landlord present to keep her in check. Bob had laughed at that. She was good at putting him in a good mood, and everyone else, with a positive spin on almost any situation. Even Steve being in hospital was good, as he couldn't get into trouble in there. Bob laughed, she didn't know her uncle like he did.



Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 11



Bob hadn't thought through how he was going to introduce Jane to his daughter. Leaving it to the last moment, in hope of it sorting itself out, wasn't the kind of strategy he would use in business. In personal relations it was the usual strategy.

They virtually introduced themselves, briefly, and Jane disappeared to the kitchen to prepare a snack for their guest. Bob went through to the kitchen and announced he was off to the airport. Jane was mortified, not knowing how she stood.

'Master?' she worriedly said.

'It's all right, I've told her you're the housekeeper. She'll look after you, don't worry,' he said. 

He gave her a hug, and before she could make a fuss he quickly left. Bob had no idea how they were going to get on, and neither did she.

Jane was apprehensive as she entered the lounge, with a sandwich and coffee. 

'Hi, Jane. That looks good, thanks. Come and sit with me, and tell me how things are,' she said, with a big disarming smile. 

'Yes, ma'am,' Jane quietly spoke. 

At least the girl didn't comment on the automatic response. It was a habit form the time she served Margaret. How was she to address her masters daughter? What had he told her?

'Dad isn't very good at dealing with real people, just engineers and machines,' she laughed.

Jane was quiet, just nodding her head in agreement.

Filling in a gap between bites, she asked. 'So what are you two really? You're not just a housekeeper are you,' she chided Jane.

'Your father said I am, so I am, Miss McKenzie,' Jane responded. 

'Call me Lizzie. I noticed the way you looked at him when I arrived,' she said, sounding amused. 'Don't worry, I'm not a jealous daughter, angry with you for taking my mother's place,' she seriously spoke, for a change. 'He's a widower and you're a widow, so why not,' she smiled, and patted Jane's hand.

'Your nice and quiet. Not like me,' she said. 'Come on, spill the beans, give me some gossip, shock me,' Elizabeth led her on.

'I don't know what to say, Lizzie,' Jane said, looking downcast.

'Cheer up, it might be better than you think,' Elizabeth said. 'You do sleep with him, or is he past it,' she teased.

'No, he isn't past it,' Jane revealed, wishing she hadn't. Defence of her master brought forth an admission too quickly to prevent.

'So you do have a thing going,' Elizabeth gently mocked her.

Jane couldn't deny it. She just sat there looking trapped.

'Dad told me to look after you. Do you drink or have some dire habits? Do I have to guess what's wrong?' she asked.

'No. I don't drink. It's, err, difficult to explain. I'm not sure he would want you to know,' she blurted out. 

'Now that's interesting. What naughty secret are you hiding?' she persisted.

Elizabeth was pleasant and talkative, and gently pushed until Jane eventually broke.

'I'm your father's slave,' Jane stated, hoping that the girl was too shaken to pursue the matter.

'I don't believe it! How can that be, it's illegal isn't it?' Elizabeth countered.

'I am a slave, ma'am. I belong to your father,' she said, looking serious and defiant.

'How do you mean, he owns you?' she asked. 

At first she thought the woman was putting her on, though she looked so sincere. Elizabeth was fascinated to hear what she had to say.

'He bought me in an auction, ma'am,' Jane stated, wanting to shock her into silence. 

Elizabeth was agog. She'd been working in the middle east, and heard mutterings of slaves being sold, yet surely not in this country, and in her family home. This was something else! She wasn't sure what to think.

'You could just leave couldn't you. He's not keeping you a prisoner, obviously,' Elizabeth pointed out. At the same time she was feeling protective of her father.

'I've nowhere to go. He's been so protective, and kind, I don't want to leave,' she smiled, just a little bit.

'How come you were in an auction?' Elizabeth asked, with the feeling this was all going to be a long winded joke.

Jane couldn't tell her everything, or explain all the sordid details. It was still a bit of a mystery to her. How she got into this abject state wasn't something she wanted to think about too closely, or she might find a major fault running through her personality. 

'I owed money. It seemed a quick way to pay off the debts. I didn't realise it was going to turn out like this. I'm not complaining. It's a good way to live. I guess it wouldn't suit you,' Jane pointed out.

'I don't know, what's it like?' she asked.

'Freedom, in some ways. My master makes all the decisions for me. I don't have to struggle with money, a job, where to go, or what to do. I just obey my master, and leave everything to him,' Jane said.

'Ethical decisions, what about those?' she asked. 

'I don't need to question myself, or anyone else. If my master wants me to do something, I do it,' she said.

'You make it sound easy, even attractive, leaving everything to someone else. No worries, not problems. I see what you mean about being free,' Elizabeth said.

'That's right, that's how it is. It's unique,' Jane smiled. 

'It's certainly not like being a Buddhist, or any school of philosophy I've heard of. I guess it's like asking what it's like being an ancient Egyptian. You have to be there to know,' Elizabeth proposed.

'I guess so,' Jane agreed.

'The same goes for the master, you can't know without being one,' Elizabeth said.

'You are. Your father put you in charge, to look after me. You're my master, or rather, my mistress,' Jane said. 

She was warming to this young woman, as her mannerisms were a reminder of her father. She sometimes sounded like him too. She wasn't about to tell her that. As it might be objectionable, like Jane being told she was like her mother.

'You're my slave? That means I've got to be responsible for you.' Elizabeth bulked at the idea. 'Life is for living and having fun. I didn't plan on staying with dad for long. Just a quick hello, and I was off with friends,' she complained.

'As you wish, mistress,' Jane dutifully said. 

'Don't look at me with those puppy dog eyes,' Elizabeth scolded.

'Sorry, mistress,' Jane replied, and looked away.

'Dad told me to look after you. Why, why do you need looking after?' Elizabeth asked, in exasperation.

'I'm just a slave, mistress,' Jane said. 

The girl didn't understand all the implications that simple statement implied. How could she explain how vulnerable she was? It was humbling to be left under the supervision of a young woman of twenty-one, after bringing up a daughter around her age. Elizabeth was only a couple of years older than her daughter, and she was going to have to obey her.

Under the girls scrutiny she fumbled for more to say. 'I can't stay here by myself, I'm too vulnerable,' she said. Knowing she had to be convincing, she would have to reveal the excruciating truth. 'Someone calling might find out I can be ordered around. I dare not go out alone, for the same reason. Once they start telling me what to do, I can't help obeying them,' she emphatically stated.

'You can't resist obeying someone, even a stranger? Isn't that some sort of an addiction?' she asked, becoming interested once more.

'I guess so. It's how I am now, after so long being an obedient slave,' Jane said. 

It seemed a long time, almost forever. She tried to think how many months she had been like this, though it seemed like years.

'If someone started ordering you around, what would you do?' Elizabeth asked.

'Anything they wanted me to do. I'm just a slave, and have to obey,' she said, looking hopeless.

'What if they wanted to take you away from here? What if it was a guy?' Elizabeth persisted.

'I'd have to go with him. I'd have to obey a master in all things, whatever he wanted,' Jane stated. At last she was getting the point.

'Even if you didn't like him, you'd have to sleep with him? A complete stranger!' Elizabeth said, in disgust.

Jane nodded her head, looking sorry for herself. A knot in her stomach was the beginnings of arousal, from just talking about it. She hoped the girl didn't ask if she would enjoy it. She cringed from remembering how carried away she became with a stranger in Las Vegas. The humiliation of being won in a poker game, and being finger fucked in front of strangers, aroused her beyond control. She was ready to be taken away, knowing full well she would be his obedient slave.

Elizabeth mistook Jane's cringe from asking about sleeping with a stranger, unaware she was thinking of a certain card game in Las Vegas.

'It's OK, I'll stay and look after you,' Elizabeth soothingly spoke, and laid a hand on her shoulder. 

Jane wondered if Elizabeth would stay, when it was realised what a horrid slut she was. At least with her, there would be no chance of being deeply aroused out of control. She thought of the vibrator, and how much more secretive she would have to be. A woman would know what she was up to, unlike a man, and especially her father. Although he suspected she was playing with herself, he ignored it.

'So, you're my slave,' Elizabeth cheerily said.

'Yes, mistress,' Jane dutifully stated, looking happier.

'Have you got something better to wear? That cheap nylon thing is awful,' Elizabeth said, turning her nose up, as though it were smelly.

'Yes, Mistress, in my room,' she said. Here we go again, Jane reflected.

'Come on, Slave,' Elizabeth giggled.

Jane would have to be careful, as this girl was too impulsive. If she upset her, the girl might suddenly decide to leave. How would she go to the supermarket without her? What if that delivery guy came back? She might be forced to leave with him, and what might happen to her then?

'Surely my father didn't buy all these clothes, he's too mean,' she exclaimed.

'Get that thing off and pick something,' she enthused. 'Oh! I'm supposed to order you to wear what I choose, I suppose. This is going to take getting used to,' she said with delight.

Pulling a hanger from the rack, she turned to hold it up against the woman's body. 

'Wow! You have a terrific figure, no wonder dad bought you clothes. Did he pick these? Silly question, obviously not,' she said to herself.

'Are these real, or did dad buy these too?' she asked, pushing one of Jane's breasts with a finger.

'They're real, mistress,' Jane said, feeling embarrassed.

'The underwear looks good on you, slave,' she quietly said. 

Elizabeth admired the woman for a long moment, not noticing that Jane was embarrassed. 

'It's going to be fun after all, having a mature woman as my obedient slave,' she laughed.

Jane felt belittled by the remark, but it had to be endured. She needed this girl to stay here, so it was important to concentrate on obeying her, however demeaning it would be. Elizabeth picked out a dress, and stood back to admire it.

'You look great, really girly,' she said, and noted how embarrassed her slave looked. 'I'll do your hair now. When was it last cut?' Elizabeth asked.

'A long time ago, mistress,' Jane answered, sounding vague. 'It's been trimmed, but previous masters' wanted it long,' she added.

The dress was a light summer dress, decorated with flowers and butterflies. Not her selection this time, it was her father's choice.

'Best take the dress off while I style your hair, slave,' Elizabeth told her.

Her hair was made up in big flowing bunches, flopping over both ears. With every movement, they waggled around. 

'What do you think, slave?' Elizabeth asked.

'They're cute, mistress, thank you, mistress,' Jane approved, despite misgivings over the style. She had never been cute, and was now too old to be endearing. 

Elizabeth was finding excuses to keep the woman in her underwear. She felt more masterful while the older woman was undressed. She ordered the woman to wait in the filmy underwear, while searching the closet. 

'Let's see if there's anything else in here for my slave,' Elizabeth mumbled. 'What's this?' Elizabeth chuckled. 

'A corset, mistress. A previous owner had this slave wear it to slim slave's waist, mistress,' Jane informed the girl.

Elizabeth came closer to examine her waist. She stretched both hands around the slaves waist, and squeezed. 'That's amazing! I can almost touch finger tips. It's no wonder these look out of proportion, slave,' Elizabeth commented, and lifted both breasts. She weighed them, then jiggled them around. 'You sure these are natural?' she asked sceptically. 

'Yes, mistress, no master has had them enlarged yet, mistress,' Jane reassured her mistress.

'Yet? So you'd let someone make you have implants?' Elizabeth was surprised, unable to consider it herself. 

'A master wouldn't have to make me have them, mistress. I'd simply obey, and faithfully carry out my masters wishes, mistress,' Jane pointed out.

'What if a master wanted them to be huge?' Elizabeth asked, with arms outstretched, as though supporting enormous breasts. 

'Even so, Mistress. Slave must submit to a masters every desire, and would gladly obey a master, or mistress,' she insisted.

'What about me, will you willingly obey my every command, slave?' she asked.

'Of course, mistress. This slave will gladly obey her mistresses every desire, mistress,' she passionately spoke.

'You're a submissive aren't you. You want me to dominate you, slave,' Elizabeth considered out loud. 

'I guess so, mistress. Slave takes pleasure from being humiliated,' Jane also spoke her thoughts. She wished it hadn't been said, for that was a private secret better not revealed.

'Mmm, really, slave,' she said.

Jane hoped the girl hadn't taken notice of that naughty admission, though it was hardly going to impinge on their relationship. It might be better to warn her mistress not to put her in a humiliating position with a man, where she became carried away with excitement.

'That dress is too light for this weather. Let's take a look in my room for something else, slave,' Elizabeth suggested.

'You've cleaned my room, slave,' the girl commented.

Rummaging around in her old wardrobe, she threw garments on the floor, demonstrating how untidy she could be. 

'Look what I found! Take that underwear off and try this on, slave,' she said, dangling a small piece of nylon in one hand.

Jane pulled at the screwed up nylon, stretching it up a leg, then the other. Over her hips, up her body, over both breasts, and up to her neck, it was pulled tight. In the mirror she could see how sheer it was, especially when stretched over her breasts.

'Stand still while I straighten it, slave,' she ordered. 

There was a pattern of fine wandering lines running up both legs, over her body, and breasts. Elizabeth took some time straightening the lines, using both hands to smooth the sheer material over her slave's body. The girl unavoidably pinched her nipples while straightening the seams over the breasts.

'It looks rude on you, slave,' she chuckled. 'Look between your legs. Your labia is so fleshy, it looks engorged, naughty slave,' she laughed.

Jane felt uncomfortable over the way her mistress was touching her, and the comments were embarrassing. She didn't think she was turned on by her mistresses attention, so what did she mean about her pussy. It wasn't wet.

'Sorry, mistress,' Jane murmured.

'It's no good, take it off. You'll ladder it if you're not careful, slave. Let your mistress do it,' she ordered.

Jane stood still while her mistress carefully pulled the nylon bodysuit down her body. Again the girl was intimately touching her. It felt like an intrusive massage, rather than being undressed. Having this girl dress and undress her, made her feel like one of her dolls. At thirty-four she was a lot older than the girls twenty-one years, and should be treated with respect. What could she expect after admitting she was just a lowly slave. 

Elizabeth was enjoying herself. Controlling this woman was an opportunity not to be wasted. Jane obviously wanted to be dominated, and it was bringing out a mischievous side of her that she hadn't been aware of. How far would this woman go before her natural reticence kicked in? The next few days were going to be fun finding out.

Eventually Elizabeth was happy with the outfit. A thick jersey material dress was found, looking warm and comfortable. It was stretched over her body like a second skin, over an unobtrusive set of underwear. 

'You can make me something to eat, slave,' she ordered. 

Elizabeth got on the internet to search for appropriate accessories to go with her new toy. She explored the subject of slaves and mistresses, finding an amazing amount of information. They seemed to take it all so seriously, much like Jane. When her slave returned, she was curious to try out some of the ideas she gleaned from the internet.

'Kneel beside me, slave,' she ordered. 

It was delightful having this mature woman kneeling at her feet. It made her feel like a pharaoh. On the dig in Egypt they'd been re-exploring an ancient city, looking for more information as to who ruled and lived in there. It was fascinating piecing together evidence as to what those ancients were like. This was an opportunity to find out what it would have been like to own a slave. Or, was that just an excuse.

'This is nice, though the local guys cooked a wicked curry and rice at the dig. We had locals helping out with the digging,' she explained.

'Sorry, mistress. We don't have rice or curry in the kitchen,' Jane said.

'We'll have to go shopping then,' she said.

'Your hair is nice and shiny, what do you use?' Elizabeth asked.

'The heat ruined my hair, and we couldn't wash much, so that didn't help. I had it cut short, so it didn't get in the way, and it was easier to manage,' Elizabeth said.

They had a conversation about hair styles, the lotions and potions used, and what suited them best. Jane was pleased at last to have someone to share little inconsequential things of life. They chatted amiably while her mistress ate.

'How many masters have you had, slave?' she asked. The question just popped into her head, out of nowhere.

Jane had to think for a moment, until she decided Margaret had been her mistress, even though she hadn't thought of herself as a slave at the time. Margaret had practically owned her, and sold her in an auction, so she must have been a slave even then. That meant Mark also was her master. Then Mr McKenzie bought her. 

For a brief moment a woman in a store owned her, when she was returned by her master. She couldn't forget that awful man in Vegas, who won her at a card game, and finger fucked her in front of a group of men. Then there was that satisfying evening with the delivery guy. He had certainly mastered her.

'Your slave had six owners, before my new mistress,' Jane replied. The feeling that she was just an object, sold by one owner on to another, closed in upon her. 

Elizabeth wondered if this was all a part of a fantasy, or was she telling the truth? If it was true, the woman was lost to the familiar world Elizabeth knew.

'Are you telling me the truth, slave?' she demanded.

'Yes, mistress, honestly mistress, your slave must obey her mistress,' Jane hastily answered, sounding worried.

'What are you worried about, slave, that I might find out you're lying to me, is that it?' she demanded to know.

'Your slave is worried she might be punished mistress,' Jane said.

Elizabeth stroked her slave's hair, then gripped her face to look into her eyes. 

'Don't prevaricate! Is it true you've had six owners before me?' she asked again.

'Yes, mistress, honestly mistress,' Jane reassured her mistress. 

Elizabeth wasn't reassured at all. She looked closely at the woman, recognising that she told the truth. She had assumed father had met her at some singles club, and they were playing a game. This meant it must be true, that he bought her in an auction. This was an awesome idea, yet difficult to accept. She decided to change tack, to cure the unsettling ideas crowding her mind. She would need time to understand how this could happen to someone.




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 11



'How does a mistress punish you, slave?' she asked, with the idea of finding out how she could be controlled. It might be a clue as to how the woman became so submissive.

'Your slave is spanked, mistress,' Jane grudgingly said.

'Show me how,' she quietly stated.

Jane didn't like this at all. Reluctantly, she pulled up the dress, dropped her panties, and lay over the girls lap. Reminding herself that her mistress wasn't a girl, she was a young woman, didn't make it any easier. When a master spanked her, she would become excited from the humiliation, but not now, so she hoped.

Elizabeth looked at the woman's upturned bottom, and couldn't help stroking it.

'If you tell me an untruth, I'll spank my slave. How many owners have you had?' she demanded.

'Six before you, mistress,' Jane quickly said.

'Did they all buy you as a slave?' she asked.

'Sort of mistress.' A slap had her explaining. 'One owner sold your slave in an auction, another in a store, and slave was won in a card game. Two didn't buy me, they mastered slave by taking me. Your father bought me in an auction, mistress,' she recounted.

It was easier to absorb this dire story, when she couldn't see the woman's face. From reading about slaves on a web site, she thought of another question.

'What kind of slave are you?' she asked.

Not wanting to receive another slap, she blurted out, 'Your slave is a sex slave, mistress.'

Elizabeth wasn't surprised. Being so passive, and passed around from man to man, of course she was. Even if she hadn't meant to be, it was bound to turn out like that.

Not wanting to ask, nevertheless she was compelled to. 'What do you do for a master?'

'Your slave is obedient and must carry out all orders with the best of slaves' ability, mistress,' she said, hoping to shock the young woman, and stop this questioning.

With renewed interest Elizabeth asked. 'Have you been owned by a mistress, slave?'

'Yes, Mistress.' A slap on her bare bottom brought a hasty explanation, 'My first owner was a mistress, who auctioned this slave. Another mistress, sold slave in a store, Mistress.' 

Something about being auctioned didn't add up, though it might be possible. There was plenty of time to sort out who bought her and when.

'Were you a sex slave to the two mistresses?' she asked.

'Yes, mistress,' Jane said. 

Before she could be slapped again, she continued, 'My first mistress used me with potential customers, mistress. We teased the men, and sometimes mistress let me have sex with them,' she said. 

Those naughty times brought back pleasant memories. Being a slave was a lot simpler with Margaret.

'You said, let you. Did you want to sleep with those men?' Elizabeth asked 

It was embarrassing that her mistress had picked up on that little phrase. 

'Yes, mistress. The teasing was embarrassing, and sometimes worse. When slave is humiliated, slave becomes carried away. That's how a man masters this slave, through humiliation and taking this slave. When slave is out of control from humiliation, a man can do anything he likes with slave, mistress.'

'So that's your secret! I asked you earlier if you were addicted to something, and you avoided the answer. Naughty slave,' Elizabeth said. 

Putting on an angry voice, she slapped the woman's cheeks.

'Sorry, mistress, your slave didn't mean to, honest,' Jane diffidently spoke.

'Did you get paid for sleeping with customers?' she asked.

When Jane didn't answer she slapped a cheek, then the other.

Remembering she received a bonus meant it was true. The terrible truth was difficult to admit. With her Margaret it had been so subtle it was easy to push the fact aside.

'Yes, mistress,' Jane wailed.

'So you were a whore slave,' she said.

'Yes, mistress, slave was a dirty whore, gladly having sex with customers,' Jane sobbed.

Elizabeth handed her a tissue, and stroked her bare bottom. 'Don't cry, slave. I promise to look after you, you will be safe here,' she soothingly spoke.

'Thank you, mistress,' Jane replied.

'Are you going to behave yourself, like a good obedient slave from now on?' Elizabeth demanded.

'Yes, mistress, honest, Mistress,' Jane quickly blurted out.

'Good girl, slave,' Elizabeth laughed. 'It's funny. At your age you should have been in charge here. If I was playing loud music, or misbehaving in some way, you would have told me off. Instead, your spread over my knee, being spanked like a naughty little girl. It's brilliant!' she said, and slapped her bare ass again. 

Jane whimpered, not from the slap, but from the indignity of the position she was in.

'Don't clamp your thighs together, open up! Why are you excited?' Elizabeth asked.

Hoping not to be found out, Jane flinched on being discovered. 

'Tell me!' Elizabeth insisted.

'Humiliation gets your slave excited, mistress. Sorry, mistress, your slave can't help it. Please don't hurt your slave, Mistress,' Jane pleaded.

'Of course not slave. As long as you answer me honestly. So, what do you do now, without a man?' Elizabeth asked.

Jane didn't want to expose the sordid truth, but she had no choice. 'Your slave will play with a vibrator, mistress,' she quietly spoke.

'Doesn't sound like much fun, not compared with the real thing,' she commented, sounding knowledgeable.

'Come slave, I want to see this magical device,' she ordered.

In the spare room Jane reluctantly uncovered the vibrator, hidden among frilly and flirty underwear. 

'This looks familiar, where did you get it?' Elizabeth asked.

'Your slave found it while tidying mistresses room,' Jane sighed, thinking she might be punished for stealing it.

'Oh! Come to my room, I've got something much better than that old thing. Toys have come a long way since I left home. Come along, slave, don't dawdle,' she giggled.

It was so amusing how the woman spoke and behaved. She looked like a naughty girl caught masturbating by her parents. She couldn't help teasing the woman, and rubbing in that she was a slave. The embarrassment clearly showed on her face, and the humiliation was having an effect. Her breathing was ragged, and her whole body was on fire.

'Get undressed, slave,' Elizabeth ordered. 

Every time she used the derogatory title, it gave her a thrill. To be using it on this mature woman was fun. She didn't realise the word, slave, was having an effect on Jane, as much as it did on her when called mistress. It was empowering Elizabeth more each time the two words were used.

'Lay on the bed and close your eyes, slave, ' she ordered. 

Retrieving something from a battered backpack, she knelt on the bed next to her slave. 

'Think of a sexed up master, randy and rampant. He's going to take his slave, and there's nothing you can do to stop him. You're nothing but an obedient sex slave, and must submit to him,' Elizabeth whispered in her slaves' ear.

'Yes, master,' Jane whispered back. She was thinking of Mark.

She was already hyped up, and the fantasy was ramping up her sexual arousal to an exhilarating level.

Elizabeth pressed the head of a dildo between her slaves' lips. It was a soft silicone model, rather than the old plastic vibrator Jane had found. She admired the slaves smooth soft skin, glowing from arousal. She soothed a palm back and forth over both breasts, catching a nipple between fingers. 

'Master! I need filling, please!' Jane moaned. If she was stoked up any further, she would burst into flames.

'Your master is going to fuck you hard, slave,' Elizabeth whispered. 

She ran the head of the dildo between the engorged lips, teasing relentlessly upon an emerging clit. 

'Oh! Yes! Please master, your slave needs to feel her master deep in her cunt, please!' Jane screeched. 

Elizabeth was amazed how carried away her slave had become. The bad language was surprising, coming from such a quiet woman. It was fascinating watching her begging to be fucked. When the slave explained she needed looking after, because she became uncontrollable it was hard to believe. It was eminently believable with the evidence right here on the bed. The woman was writhing, as though in pain. 

With a little pressure, Elizabeth guided the flexible phallus with both hands, into slaves vagina. Just the bulbous head pierced her sex, and Jane thrust up her hips to engulf it. Elizabeth pulled upward, preventing her slave from having it all. 

'Naughty slave. Wait until your master is ready,' she admonished the woman. 

'Please master, take me, make me yours, fuck me hard, please,' Jane begged.

So used to letting loose all her inhibitions, there was no longer anything to hold her back from demanding what she needed. 

Elizabeth began drilling into the woman. The noises of satisfaction were turning her on, though not as much as her slave. Finding slaves rhythm brought on heavier breathing, and gasps of pleasure when the dildo brushed her clit on its way in. She leant forward in an awkward position to suck on a nipple. The gyrations of slaves hips, and heartfelt words, were rewarding.

Elizabeth kissed her slave's face, ears, neck, and anywhere she could reach, while pumping the dildo. She had to swap hands to avoid cramp. Eventually her slave began to orgasm. Elizabeth pushed in all the way and held it deeply imbedded in her slave.

'Keep still! I'm cumin! Oh! Yes!' Jane cried out.

It was amusing watching such a spectacular show. The woman held nothing back. She lost all inhibitions while being fucked. The submissiveness was drowned by a desperate need, leaving her demanding satisfaction.

'Relax, let it go,' Elizabeth lightly laughed. 

She had to use both hands to pull the dildo free, as the slave had such a strong grip on it. 

Flopping down beside her sated slave, she pulled her into a tight cuddle. The woman was out of it, still enjoying the afterglow of a deep orgasm. Guiding her head to a breast, she was pleased to see the woman suck a nipple. They were sensitive from excitement, though it didn't seem there was much chance of satisfaction this evening. 

She'd learnt that slaves ears were sensitive to whispers and biting. Her breasts were sensitive, and she wondered what else would being her to such a state of abandon. The slave had several masters and mistresses to satisfy, which led her to wonder if there was anything that didn't turn the slave on. She had admitted to being horny from humiliation. Would she have to humiliate slave to get what she wanted? Elizabeth stroked the long blond hair and gently kissed slave's forehead. She was feeling tired from jet lag, and soon her eyes began to flutter toward sleep.

***

'Where you going, slave?' Elizabeth murmured. 

'To get a drink, mistress. Would mistress, like something?' Jane asked.

Elizabeth almost told her what she wanted, but figured it would be better to take it slowly. 'Some juice, anything will do,' she said, with a smile.

Studying the woman's naked body retreat from the room, she sighed with pleasure. This was unexpected. A short stay with her father, then a visit with friends to catch up with them, had been planned. Instead, she had a beautiful, obedient woman to play with. This looked like being a wonderful few days.

'Thank you, slave. Hop in here and keep me warm, slave,' she said, while patting the cooling sheets. 

It was the middle of the night, and the heating was off. Typical of her father to economise. They were both naked and cold. Wrapping their arms around each other, Elizabeth pulled her tight.

Jane felt uncomfortable from feeling a woman's breasts squashed against hers, but the warmth was welcome. She had wanted to slip back to her own room before mistress awoke, not wanting to face her in this bed in the morning. After such a lewd performance, she thought she might be punished. Now she knew her mistress accepted it. Was it kindness that made her mistress give her release from those powerful urges? 

'You warm now, slave?' she asked.

'Yes, mistress, thank you mistress,' Jane answered.

'What do you do after a mistress gives you an orgasm?' she asked.

'Your slave doesn't know mistress. A mistress has never given slave an orgasm, mistress,' Jane hesitantly spoke. 

'Surprising! When a master gives slave a climax, what do you do?' she continued.

Taking the question as a prompt, Jane dutifully said, 'Thank you for the wonderful orgasm, mistress. Your slave cum deeply, mistress.' 

It felt strange to be thanking this young woman for an orgasm, as much as it was wrong to have performed so lewdly in front of her.

'Not what I meant, but your mistress is pleased slave enjoyed it. It was obvious anyway,' she laughed.

'What do you do to show your master gratitude for an orgasm,' she persisted.

It dawned on her what she was getting at. This curiosity about her sexual habits was discomforting. At least she wasn't asking about the men Margaret gave her to. Before mistress delved too deeply into her murky past, she decided to answer. Besides, she had been told to be truthful, or suffer the consequences. 

'Slave settles between a master's legs, to suck master's cock, mistress,' Jane quickly spoke, with an uncomfortable fidget. With a cheek laying on mistresses chest, she could hear deep breathing, and her heart was thumping. Fortunately mistress couldn't see her burning red face.

'You can do the same for your mistress. I deserve a reward for giving you such a wonderful orgasm, slave,' she said.

Jane was confused. Her mistress didn't have a penis. Did she have the dildo perched between her legs as a game? Maybe she had inserted it, expecting slave to masturbate her. 

'Go on, move, slave,' she insisted. 

With slave between her legs, she spread them wide. Pulling up the sheet she looked at her. 'Well? What is slave waiting for?' she asked.

'What should slave do, mistress?'

'Suck your mistresses pussy. Of course you know how! Think how a man has sucked you, and how you would rather he do it. Do that to your mistress. Call it on the job learning. You can keep at it until your mistress is finished with you,' Elizabeth firmly ordered.

Jane hadn't guessed her mistress was a lesbian! This was all new to her. Female parts weren't something she had ever seen up close before. She kissed her mistresses thighs, then built up courage to peck with tightly puckered mouth, at mistresses' lips. With mouth tightly shut, she pressed it against the labia. She would have to do more, or be punished. 

Taking mistresses' advice, she pretended it was her sex being kissed. She would want a man to lick and suck her, like Mark had done. Bowing to the inevitable she opened her mouth and sucked her mistresses lips into her mouth. Her tongue pressed again the clitoris, and flicked over it. 

Concentrating hard on the job, she didn't notice her mistress watching her. Elizabeth was enthralled. Seducing an older woman had never occurred to her, for she was happy with friends her own age. The plan had been to visit college friends, for possible relief from abstinence while on the dig. This changed everything.

Having this mature woman satisfy her, who was almost old enough to be a friends' mother, was strangely impelling. All she had to do was click her fingers, for her slave to play with her. The slave was learning all the while, and was beginning to find her hot spots. That was good!

When her mistress pushed up her hips, and moaned, Jane realised she had found what turned her on. Rubbing her teeth over the clit, while tonguing her, was driving her toward an orgasm. At least she hoped so, as her tongue felt like a piece of wood. She was surprised how dry the girl was, as by this time she would have been juicing like a tap. 

Elizabeth's hips shook, and her heels jigged on the bed, drumming a fast beat. Her thighs clamped around her slave's ears, and she began to softly whimper. During a first time with a lover she never usually let go so completely. Grabbing her slaves hair she guided her up the bed into her arms. She crushed the woman's head against her breasts. 

She couldn't speak, from breathing heavily, and fatigue. For such a good orgasm, she would have thanked a partner with kisses, and at least some comforting words. After travelling so far over the past two days, like a man, she fell asleep.

Jane pulled herself away from the girl, on hearing her snore. She took a long look at the naked body. It was younger and harder than her own. Well tanned and toned. Hard work had toughened the muscles, though not in the same places, or shape, as a man would have developed. The girl was twenty-one, yet asleep, in repose, she seemed younger. She was quick thinking and impetuous with decision making. Maybe not the safest mistress to be looking after her. 

Jane liked her. Though liking a woman physically had never occurred to her, she now understood why college friends had experimented. It was different. However much a man said he loves you, a woman understands you more deeply. Maybe she was putting too much into what was probably just a sexual outlet. Perhaps her mistress was trying to master her with the dildo, as she had told her a master would. 

She carefully put her arms around her mistress, without waking her, and cuddled her. Hearing little breathy sighs, and half words, made her smile. She should have felt disgraced, from being made to suck a young woman's sex. Instead she felt a warmth, and satisfaction from having served her mistress. 

'Your slave is here to serve you, mistress. Relax and sleep well, mistress,' Jane whispered, and softly kissed her lips. 

Next morning they both lay back talking about men. Jane was relieved to know that her mistress liked men. 

'What are you thinking?' Elizabeth asked.

Having become used to telling the truth, she did so, 'Mark, mistress. He used me as a sex object on the end of his cock,' she said, and became embarrassed over the naughty admission.

'Poor thing. Oh! You enjoyed it! Naughty slave! I might have to spank you for such dirty thoughts!' she laughed. 

'Yes, mistress,' she smirked.

'You are such a dirty slut! Don't tell me you couldn't help it, I won't believe you,' she crossly said.

Realising her mistress was jealous, brought a feeling of warmth toward her. She leaned over and kissed her lips. 

'Now you're trying to get round your mistress. If I didn't know better I'd think you were trying to avoid a spanking. Knowing you're such a dirty little slut, I know you want me to spank you. Don't you, slave,' Elizabeth teased. 

'Sorry, mistress. Your slave doesn't want a spanking, honest,' she protested.

Elizabeth turned her over, and playfully slapped her bare ass. 

'There you are. As I thought, the dirty little bitch is getting wet!' Elizabeth declared, and rubbed two fingers over her slit to prove the point. 

'Sorry mistress,' Jane giggled.

Elizabeth jumped up, and clambered back on the bed with a mirror. 

'You've never examined your bits have you,' Elizabeth seriously remarked. 

'I've never thought to, mistress,' she said, with surprise. 

Feeling embarrassed she spread her legs, while mistress steadied the mirror against a pillow. 

'There you are, compare it to mine. Your lips are larger than mine,' she pointed out.

Jane mumbled something, not wanting to look, though mistresses enthusiasm carried her along with the strange reflection of both their sexual parts. Hers was opening, flowering large and fleshy. Her mistress just had a slit of light brown flesh, with a strip of tight brown curls pointing toward it. Then she noticed her puckered brown hole was slightly open. She guessed it was from using the vibrator.

'Is mine normal? I mean, is it alright?' Jane asked.

'Of course its normal. It's lovely! They come in all shapes and sizes you know,' Elizabeth assured her.

'Play with mine, and watch how it puffs up,' Elizabeth ordered, while holding the mirror. 




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 11



Jane carefully reached for her mistresses sex. It looked as though someone else's hand was between her mistresses thighs. It was even weirder watching her hand playing between the lips, watching the clit emerge. 

'Your lips still aren't as big as mine,' Jane worriedly spoke.

'It just means you shouldn't wear tight shorts,' Elizabeth said, and gasped as a fingernail scraped her nub. 'Keep going, slave,' she said, while sucking in a deep breath of air.

'Stop! I've got a better idea,' Elizabeth sighed out the words on a rush of breath. 

The build up to an orgasm was so delicious, she didn't want to stop, but she had a better idea.

'Come on slave, we'll shower,' she ordered. 

Together they soaped each other's wet, glistening bodies. 'You have a lovely figure. All this long blond hair, but no pubic hair,' she smiled. 

She continued soaping her body with two hands at her slaves crotch, front and back.

'You like that? My turn,' she said. 

Her slave obeyed with both hands. Fingers explored between cheeks and lips, cupping her crotch in a palm, then exploring some more. Slave was learning to pleasure her, and accept a woman's pleasure in return. Very soon the woman would be a skilful pleasure slave. Tonight she would take a bath, with her slave in attendance. She would lie back imagining she was the Queen Nefertiti, attended by her favourite body slave. 

Again she decided to call a stop to the wonderful stimulating fingers. Her slave had learnt so much so quickly! Back in the bedroom Elizabeth enthusiastically bounced onto the bed. 

'Come on, slave, this way round,' she said. 

Elizabeth had her lay on her back with a pillow under her hips. She nestled her pussy over the woman's face, and rubbed it over her nose. She wrapped both arms around slave's thighs and separated them. With gusto she licked between slave's lips.

'Do as your mistress, does, slave,' Elizabeth ordered. 

Like a mirror image, they ran tongues, fingers, and finger nails, over each other's sex. A finger was pressed into slave's asshole, so she did the same to her mistress, hoping it was permitted. It didn't take long for them both to screech that an orgasm was on its way. Trying to continue licking, and sucking, they nevertheless lay still, to enjoy the flow of emotion, with tingling sensations meandering through them.

Jane wondered what was happening to her. It seemed she was going to have more orgasms than when she was with Mark! A woman could carry on long after a man had given in. Her mistress didn't need reviving, she became excited, and simply decided to take her slave. Jane was awash with the effect of an afterglow. As her mistress was doing, she wound her arms around the naked body next to her. It had given her such pleasure, she wanted to love it and make love to it, even if it was a woman's body. 

A light kiss between the thighs, turned to a lingering smooch. That she had made this move without being ordered, should have warned her what was happening. She was falling for her mistress. A slave falls in love with her master, or mistress, as a submissive needing to be wanted, and looked after. She knew this, had experienced it, but couldn't help what was happening to her.

Elizabeth was about to tell her slave to stop. The caresses were gentle, like butterfly wings tickling her thighs and lips. She relaxed her body, letting it happen. She pulled at the slave's legs, to reach of her lips. As her slave was doing, she teased the wet pussy, then buried her face in the heady perfume. It was a mixture of scent and musk.

They licked, caressed, bit, scratched, prodded, and fingered, for an age, then some more. An orgasm soaked them like a bubbling brook, quiet and constant. Little shudders of pleasure wended their way through tummy's pressed tightly together. Their bodies shook in unison, as though sharing the same nervous system.

After a cuddle they parted, sweaty and happy.

'Thank you for the orgasms, mistress,' Jane gratefully smiled. 

Elizabeth laughed at her slave's contented expression. 'You did well, slave,' she teased.

'Another a shower, breakfast, then shopping for some real food. I'm craving a pizza,' she said.

'Yes, mistress,' Jane dutifully said. 

This time they showered separately, otherwise they might not eat, or go out.

'So what's special about this store?' Elizabeth asked, as they pulled into the parking lot.

'I was sold here to a master.' Jane said. Not exactly a lie, yet not the whole truth.

'In this store?' she asked, with a look of incredulity.

'Yes, mistress. One of the managers occasionally sells slaves. I was brought back to be checked out, by a manageress,' she said. 

Jane was feeling the emotions of that experience. To actually have been sold in a store like one of the items on a shelf, to be just an object for sale, was exciting. She was about to say it was just a game, instead she continued the fantasy.

'It was humiliating to be just an object for sale to anyone who cared to buy me, mistress,' she quietly spoke.

'I can see you enjoyed it, naughty slave,' Elizabeth commented.

Jane kept quiet, wondering if that woman would be there. Half hoping she would, and yet afraid of facing her, they walked in pushing a trolley.

Jane quickly turned her head away from the information counter, on seeing the woman who joined in a game, last time she was there. Elizabeth caught the movement, and watched a woman staring at her slave. 

'I'm not sure about this special offer, let's go and ask,' Elizabeth said. 

Her slave was preoccupied and didn't really hear, she just murmured agreement. The closer they got to the enquiry desk, the more nervous Jane looked. Elizabeth kept a straight face, determined to tease the woman, and her slave. 

Glancing at the name tag, she said, 'Hi, Gloria, how are you today? OK. I was given this slave as a present, and was wondering about your returns policy.'

Gloria retrieved a catalogue from under the counter, pretending it contained relevant information. 'I'll have to look up this model to see if it's still under warrantee,' she said, speaking with authority. 

Elizabeth was impressed with the smooth response. She hadn't been sure if Jane had been recounting a fantasy or not. The woman winked at her, with a slight nod at Jane. Maybe a previous master had arranged a game with Gloria, to excite his slave. Whatever had happened, this woman was up for it, and Elizabeth was going to enjoy teasing her slave.

'You're entitled to a six month service on this model. Would you like me to give the slave an inspection. I could then give you an evaluation of its resale value. If you agree to the figure, the store will buy it back,' Gloria professionally stated, as though they were talking about any old item.

'What do you do with a slave when you take them back?' Elizabeth asked, sounding curious. 

'Until the checks are carried out, I can't say whether we can take it back. If we do, it depends on its condition. If it's in good order, with no signs of wear, we put it back on the shelf for sale at a discount. If we can't do that we sell them on. A contractor buys up all our surplus models. He runs a brothel outside of town. Gets through a lot of slaves, as they are well used at his place,' Gloria explained.

Both women looked at the slave, with smirks on their faces. Jane had her head down, hiding her face in long blond hair. The way she was squirming, they could tell she was horny.

'Do you want to carry on shopping, while I examine it for damage?' Gloria asked.

'Could I watch?' Elizabeth asked.

'Of course, no problem. It won't take long.'

In Gloria's office they sat while Jane stood waiting.

'As the owner you need to sign this consent form. Good. I'll run through the usual checks, just to make sure it's in full working order,' the woman said.

Elizabeth was impressed with the woman's handling of the game. She was making it up as she went along, yet seeming to be going through a usual routine. Jane was absorbed in the deception, treating it as real. The consent form was just a delivery check list, but the slave didn't know this, and wouldn't want to know either.

'Get undressed, slave,' Gloria ordered.

Jane looked at her mistress, with a worried look on her face.

'It's no good looking at your mistress, she's signed you over to me. I'm in charge of you now, slave,' Gloria heavily stated.

'The consent form gives me complete control of the slave, so that I can test its suitability for resale. Should have explained that. Do you want me to carry on?' Gloria asked.

'Sure, no problem. Whatever you need to do. I'm keen to know what its value is. I need funds for an archaeology expedition I want to join,' Elizabeth said. 

Jane was naked, feeling vulnerable, especially on hearing her mistress needed money. Would mistress be tempted to sell her if the right price was offered? Her mistress was reckless and might just do it without thinking it through properly. The consequences for her as a slave could be dire. What if she was sold into a brothel? 

The awful prospect made her feel sick, yet the familiar feeling of arousal was also there.

'It's a slave slut model. They get aroused at the slightest provocation. It's nipples are really big and puffy already. Owners like a more controllable model these days. These can be a bit of a handful, as this one certainly is,' Gloria laughed, while weighing Jane's breasts. 

'Bend over the desk, slave,' she ordered.

The bottom draw of the desk was pulled open, and the woman pulled out a dildo. It wasn't as big as the one Elizabeth used, but it was worrying. She hadn't thought the woman would go this far. Looking at her slave, she saw it was enjoying the humiliation immensely. At least it looked that way, as she was so stoked up. Even if she didn't want this, there was no way she could refuse.

'Look how wet and ready it is,' Gloria commented. 

Jane was mortified over how she was being treated, and referred to as "it". Being checked out in a store to gauge her suitability for sale, was a dreadful disgrace. In her mind, she could be placed naked on the shelves for anyone to examine and purchase, like nothing more than some inconsequential home appliance. If found to be inadequate, she would end up in a brothel. 

Jane was in a deep fantasy, far from reality. Her mind was buzzing with emotions, and above all, delirious pleasure.

'No need to check it out further, just give me a value,' Elizabeth said.

'I can see it is excited, and out of control. A private sale would give you the best price, though that might be difficult. If you want to sell it to a whorehouse, I will make the arrangements,' Gloria said, and winked at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth looked her slave over, seeing the woman hadn't the will to object. If they had been serious, she would have tamely gone along with the sale. By this evening she could be working in a whorehouse, serving strangers all night. The slave wouldn't be able to refuse anything, however depraved the acts men demanded she perform.

Elizabeth shuddered. It was no wonder the woman had to be looked after. 

'I'll take her back and think about it,' Elizabeth said.

'Get dressed slave,' Gloria ordered. 'If you change your mind, just bring it back and I'll arrange for it to be sold,' she added.

'Thanks, I appreciate your time,' Elizabeth said.

The woman wrapped a label around Jane's wrist, with a barcode clearly printed on it. 

'We just need to check it out at the till, and you can be on your way,' Gloria said.

Elizabeth was impressed by the woman's attention. She certainly knew how to play a game, and make it real for her slave. She almost believed it was plausible.

Jane followed the two women through the store, believing more than ever that she was nothing more than a purchased object. She kept her head down, unable to meet anyone's eye. The shoppers would recognise her lowly status, and look at her with disdain. She wallowed in the feeling of being an abject thing, to be bought and sold at a masters whim.

She watched the woman scan her wrist, and heard the familiar sound of merchandise being rung up on a till. That it was her barcode being checked out, confirmed what she had become, nothing more than an object being sold in a store.

She followed her owner to the car and climbed in. Both were deep in thought. 

With a small ingratiating voice, Jane said, 'Thank you for buying this slave, mistress. Your slave is grateful mistress. Being sold to a brothel would have been. . .' Jane didn't know what to say. Her mistress could still sell her, if dissatisfied with her. 'Your slave will be an obedient and dutiful slave, mistress,' she promised.

Elizabeth looked at the woman, with pity in her eyes. Jane was looking down at her lap, still looking hyped up. Being humiliated into a sexual state, was like a drug to her. When Jane had said she was sold in a store, she hadn't believed her. Now she knew it had just been a game, though in Jane's head it seemed real.

The woman was ill, like an alcoholic, or drug addict. Jane lived in her own world, far more than Elizabeth had imagined. What was she going to do with her? Seeing a sign for another supermarket, Elizabeth pulled into the parking lot. 

'Stay here, while I get what we need,' she firmly stated.

'Yes, mistress,' Jane automatically responded.

Once home, the small world closed in on them both. Elizabeth tried to snap Jane out of the role of slave, but it upset the woman. Jane was so keen to please her, Elizabeth relented to calling her slave. Whenever she gave an order, using her as a slave, the woman's face glowed with a warm smile of satisfaction. It was overwhelmingly compelling. Elizabeth couldn't resist reverting back to being her mistress. 

Her mistress seemed displeased with her when they got home. She tried hard to please, and anticipate her requirements. She was afraid that her mistress might sell her to a brothel, so it was important to be needed. After a few hours, she had won her around, but she didn't relax, with the fear of being sold hanging over her.

'Come here slave,' Elizabeth sighed. 

She patted her lap, then noticed a worried look on her slave's face.

'It's alright, slave, I'm not going to punish you. Your mistress wants a cuddle,' she reassured.

Elizabeth stroked her hair and kissed her face. She whispered in an ear, 'Don't worry slave, your mistress is happy with her slave, and will keep her safe.' Elizabeth gave her a tight squeeze, and kissed her lips, which turned into a deep petting session. 

That evening when they went to bed, her slave was eager to please. She gave her mistress a massage, then licked her all over. Elizabeth knew she should try harder to bring the woman around from this lowly position, but how? It was far easier to give in, and enjoy the pleasurable sensations. 

Her slave gently guided her legs apart, and started to lick her thighs, moving on to her sex. There was no chance now, as all thoughts floated away on a cloud of wonderful sensations. Her slave had learnt how to satisfy her. Now it was her turn to become carried away in a world of pleasure.



Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 12



Collared Slave

Over a few days they settled into their relationship. Jane had learnt to think of herself as a slave, or maybe brainwashed herself into the role, long before Elizabeth turned up. Having given up fighting it, Elizabeth learnt to be a mistress, owning a slave, and all that entailed. A natural exuberance carried her along, to fully embrace the relationship.

A parcel arrived for Elizabeth, and with excitement she tore away the packaging. 

'I didn't order this! I guess it will have to do,' Elizabeth said to herself. 

Instead of a leather slave collar, a plain loop of silvery metal had arrived with the other toys. Something metallic dropped from the packaging. She picked up a shiny label with a chain, obviously designed to attach to the collar. 

'Oh! That's just perfect!' she chortled. 

A silver label, much like those hanging on a decanter, was etched with the words, "Slut Slave". She rummaged around in the box, and found some more labels, "Bitch Slave", "Fuck Slave", "Sex Slave", "Butt Slave", and "Whore Slave". She was uncertain which one to use. Was her slave a slut slave, or simply a sex slave, she pondered. It looked as though they could be changed, depending on her mood. 

'Perfect!' she laughed.

A magnet designed to unlock the collar had dropped from the packaging. She didn't notice it under the desk or even realise the collar needed a special key. Elizabeth was too busy looking through the parcel of toys to notice.

'Slave!' Elizabeth shouted. 

Jane came running to her mistress from the kitchen, and stood before her. 

'Your mistress, has a present for her slave,' she smiled. 'On your knees, slave.' she ordered. 'Look what your mistress has bought for her slave,' she said, holding up the collar.

'Thank you, mistress, it's wonderful,' Jane gushed.

Jane wondered why her mistress had bought the necklace. It was a simple modern piece of jewellery, and looked expensive. If it was silver it would be very expensive. It was difficult to remember the last time her husband bought her jewellery, or when last she wore even a ring. She bunched up the long hair, to bare her neck. 

Margaret informed Jane all her possessions were placed in storage somewhere, after her house was sold. Where they were she had no idea, though as a slave, she didn't own anything, for she was a mere possession. The thought should have ground her down, instead she felt liberated, without responsibilities of any kind to worry her.

Elizabeth wondered if Jane would be pleased that she was playing along with the fantasy. The collar had been bought before she realised how deeply the woman was caught up in the role. It wasn't just a game to her, it was a way of life. Pandering to her whims wasn't good for her slave, but the collar had been bought, so why not use it to make her happy. 

Elizabeth couldn't be bothered with the long winded statements found on the internet, when collaring a slave, so she cut to the chase.

'This is your slave collar. You have to swear obedience, and to be a dutiful slave,' Elizabeth directed. 

'Your slave, swears to obey her mistress at all times, in all things, and to be a dutiful slave. Slave will learn to please her mistress,' Jane pledged. 

A thrill went through her entire body, leaving her shivering. This showed her mistress was taking her seriously, and would look after her, as a mistress should.

Elizabeth slid the round metal bar around slave's neck, and pushed the two ends together. One end slotted into the other, leaving a perfect ring of gleaming metal around her neck.

Jane heard the snap of a catch, feeling it like a door shutting upon an old existence. She was shut in, imprisoned, in the role of slave. The world's troubles were shut out, no longer her concern.

Jane looked up at her mistress, with tears in her eyes. 'Thank you, mistress, for collaring your slave and making slave complete,' she warmly spoke.

'One more thing, your label. Every time you look in a mirror, it will remind you what you are,' she chuckled. 'There, all done, go and look what it says.' 

Jane scrabbled to her feet and walked shakily over to a mirror. Cuffing away the tears of joy, she tried to interpret the backward words. The words, "Slut Slave", were engraved on a metal label hanging from the collar. Her slave collar! She had a slave collar! The simple ceremony seemed to complete her whole being. 

She ran over to her mistress, and fell to her knees. She looked up at her with love in her eyes. The feelings overflowed into tears. 

'Thank you, mistress, your slave promises to be a good slave,' she blubbered, and buried her face in mistresses lap. 

Damn! Elizabeth didn't like this crying show. She stroked slaves hair, letting her enjoy the moment in her own way. A warm glow of happiness had Elizabeth smiling, and cooing sweet words to her. 

'There, there, slave. Your mistress loves her slave, and will look after her,' she warmly spoke. 

The words were spontaneous, said without thought, and they surprised her. 'Did I really say I loved her?' she murmured to herself. She hoped the slave was too caught up in her own little slave world to have noticed. 

***

Elizabeth enjoyed her slave bathing her, for it felt like she was an ancient queen, or an Egyptian Pharaoh. Slaves hands gently soaped her all over, playing plenty of attention to her soft, sensitive places. It was glorious having a slave. How could she refuse this delicious attention, especially as it made her slave so happy to serve. 

In the bedroom Elizabeth laid back on the bed, letting her slave attend to her sex.

'You've become a skilled pussy licker, slave' Elizabeth teased.

Jane looked up from her pleasurable task, 'Thank you, mistress. Your slave loves pleasuring her mistress,' she said, with a coy smile. 

'Stop it now, your mistress has a treat for her slave,' Elizabeth ordered. 'Shut your eyes. Tight, no cheating,' she heavily stated.

Jane wondered what her mistress was up to. Feeling mistress scramble back onto the bed, she was tempted to peek, but her mistress's words must be obeyed. She felt something nudge her sex, rubbing between her lips. She badly wanted to open her eyes to see what her mistress was doing to her.

'Open your eyes, slave,' Elizabeth eventually said.

Kneeling between her legs, her mistress had a new dildo, though it was more than that. She couldn't work it out at first. She watched her mistress pull and push on the fat dildo, rubbing her sex.

'It's a double strap on. Inside me, and soon to be inside you too!' Elizabeth explained to a bemused slave.

'Mistress is going to fuck her slave, and make slave truly hers,' Jane said, with a look of wonder.

Elizabeth guided the long phallus, with both hands, over her slaves slit. She was pleased to see slave was soon wet and ready. She was eager to try the thing out, never having used one before. Careful not to hurt her slave, she guided it in, bulbous head first, then some length.

She stopped suddenly when her slave arched her back and yelped. 

'Damn! Am I hurting you?' Elizabeth worriedly asked.

'No! More, please, mistress, more!' Jane cried out.

Elizabeth slowly pushed in. She knew how much to feed her slave, from using the other dildo, though this one seemed longer and fatter. She dare not become carried away, in case she hurt her.

'Fuck your slave hard, mistress! Fuck me hard, make me cum, make me yours!' she begged.

'At least you're enjoying it,' Elizabeth muttered. 

Suddenly Jane clenched strong inner muscles around the phallus, and shoved her hips up hard. Elizabeth felt her insides being filled. Her slave was now fucking her! She squatted on top of her slave, as though she were on a bucking bronco, only just holding on.

Elizabeth lost control, no longer taking her slave, rather she was being fucked by her. With head back, eyes rolled up in her head, she began to moan. 

'Fuck me hard, fuck your slut hard!' Jane screeched, through clenched teeth.

Knowing each other's bodies pleasures so well, they both cum quickly, and together. Awkwardly, Elizabeth collapsed onto her lover, and they both slid sideways, face to face. They kissed, and caressed each other's sweaty bodies with gentle strokes. 

'Thank you, mistress, for a lovely orgasm. My mistress made this contented slave truly hers,' Jane murmured. 

'Wow! That was good,' Elizabeth murmured back. 

Still out of breath, she could hardly speak. She felt her slave pushing her hips close to hers, with the dildo pressing deeply into her. Damn! The slave wanted more! 

'Give me a chance to get my breath back, slave,' Elizabeth chided her.

'Sorry, mistress,' Jane said, revealing she knew what she was doing.

'You're an insatiable slut, what are you?' Elizabeth demanded.

'Your slave is an insatiable slut, mistress,' she quivered a reply.

'Keep still, slave,' she warned.

'Sorry, mistress, slave can't help it. Thank you for all the orgasms, mistress,' she said, hoping to placate her.

'Undo the straps, you're not getting any more until later, slave,' she ordered.

Reaching behind her mistress, Jane fiddled with the straps, using the excuse to push against her naked body. 

'Ooo! That feels so deep! Hold still a moment. How many orgasms did you have?' she asked.

'A few mistress. It's difficult to say, as they all rolled into one, from the moment mistress entered slave,' she said.

'Ease away from me, don't pull too hard, slave,' she advised. 'Wow, that was really something,' she murmured. 

Elizabeth grabbed hold of the dildo, still deeply imbedded in her slave's vagina, and pulled. 

'Relax, let it go, slave,' she said. 'Your muscles are strong, slave,' she commented.

'May slave kiss mistresses pussy, mistress?' the slave asked.

'You need a lesson in obedience, and self control, slave. Slave can kiss my ass,' she drolly stated. 

'Thank you, mistress,' Jane humbly replied.

Elizabeth hadn't meant it, and was surprised when the woman readily agreed. With limbs outstretched, she let her slave kiss the middle of her back, making her way down to the cleft above her cheeks. Jane began to lick between her mistresses cheeks, then spread them with both hands. At first she was reticent. 

Elizabeth was just being flippant. She hadn't expected her slave to obey the order, but she was, and it was too delicious to stop her. The delicate flicking of a tongue around her little puckered hole was deliciously decadent.

As a respectable widow, kissing a girls asshole should have been inconceivable. That past life, with all its inhibitions and moral rules, was just a distant memory. She was now a slut slave, ready to obey her mistresses every whim. She planted a light kiss on the little puckered hole. It tasted of salty sweat, nothing more. She kissed it hard, licked it, then delved in with her tongue.

Letting go both cheeks, her face was buried between them. She caressed her mistresses ass, massaging the cheeks, and wherever she could reach, with both hands.

'Play with me, slave,' Elizabeth lightly whispered. 

With fingertip butterfly caresses, her slave brushed her thighs, eventually reaching her pussy. By then Elizabeth was well away, on a breeze of sensual arousal wafting through her entire being. Slave was pleased to hear the familiar purrs of satisfaction, feeling contented to be a useful slave.

***

A few days passed with Mistress often making use of the double-ended dildo. Jane was pleased to find that a mistress could last longer, and carry on far longer, than any master. At every opportunity she would pose in front of mistress, attempting to entice her into bed. She felt like a little puppy, needing to play all the time.

Elizabeth was feeling the effects of cabin fever. It was good having an attentive slave, but the woman was all over her. She couldn't escape. It felt as though the slave was silently creeping up on her, to suddenly appear, wanting attention. 

'We are going out, slave,' Elizabeth announced. 

They needed supplies anyway, and that was quickly seen to. In a mall they passed a hair and beauty salon. Elizabeth stopped, when an idea struck her. On the spur of the moment, she decided to give the woman a makeover. 

'Come on slave. Hold on, this had better come off,' Elizabeth said.

So used to it, they had both forgotten about the slave collar. It was no wonder Jane received funny looks. She was flaunting a label declaring she was a slut slave. Elizabeth tried to pull the two ends apart, but they fitted into each other too well. A strong tug wouldn't budge it. Not wanting to hang around, she just unclipped the tag.

'You've been walking around wearing this, slave,' she giggled.

Jane looked at the shiny label that had been dangling from her slave collar. It read, "Slut Slave". 

'No wonder people were staring at you,' Elizabeth giggled. 

She was highly amused, whereas her slave, looked shaken. Apart from that sordid declaration, she looked boring and ordinary, like so many other housewives. This alone was enough for Elizabeth to give her a makeover.

Jane was mortified over the thought of people seeing that crude label, dangling from her collar. The collar was an elegant piece of jewellery, but if acquaintances had seen the label they would have been shocked. The way her mistress looked, everyone would guess who the dominant one was. 

Neighbours would have a great time, gossiping over her new status. No longer a mature, responsible woman, with standing in the community, and a reputation for fighting for the high moral ground. She was now a young girls slave, and less than that, she was a slut. She was an immoral woman, who would submit to anything, seeking gratification from carnal pleasures. 

Stripped of her social standing, her possessions, and her moral strength, she was nothing. She was merely this girls pathetic plaything, to be used, and once bored with, sold on to someone else. To keep herself safe from punishment, and to keep her mistress happy, she had learnt to become absolutely obedient. This only made her more vulnerable to a dominant, male or female. Passing over all responsibly to others for an easy life, compounded the mistake. She had inadvertently moulded herself into an empty headed slave, ready for anything an owner commanded.

Jane tried to shake off the fear and self-loathing. The unsettled thoughts were unfair, for her mistress was looking after her, and treating her well. Thinking of all the sexual pleasure received over the last few days, helped settle her mind. She faced the fact that she was a slut, and enjoyed being a slut.

They were the only customers, so the beautician was all over them, ready to please. 

'A makeover for Jane. No, I'm not sure what,' Elizabeth said.

'With such magnificent long hair, she would look devastating as a blond bombshell!' Clarissa enthused.

'What's that?'

'It's all the rage at the moment, a real must do,' Clarissa encouraged. 

'OK, we'll go for that,' Elizabeth agreed.

Clarissa summed them as being gay as soon as they walked in, and obviously Jane was the girly one. As long as they paid, she didn't care what they got up to at home. Elizabeth didn't seem to care about money, saying her father had given her an extra allowance while he was away. Clarissa determined to help herself to as much of it as possible.

Elizabeth sat reading a magazine, feeling bored with waiting. Her slave had become morose for some reason, and she was determined to bring her out of the prissy mood. When she was young, having money spent on her worked for her father. It was worth a try now. 

Eventually Jane was presented to her like a prize exhibit. The new woman didn't exactly make an entrance with trumpets blaring, but her body language expected applause. 

'What do you think, Lizzie?' Clarissa asked.

Elizabeth would have told the stupid girl that only friends called her that, but she was too much in awe of her slave. 

The long blonde hair was pulled up into cute bouncy bunches, flopping down each side of her face, and tied with pink ribbons. A fringe joined what looked like two floppy ears, with the rest swept back down her back. Long florescent pink fingernails matched the bows in her hair. Glossy lipstick accentuated rose bud lips, with a blush on both cheeks, and the makeup toned to match the ribbons. Her face was made up to look much younger than her thirty odd years. 

It was certainly a transformation, though Elizabeth was unsure if she liked it. Elizabeth giggled at the look on her slaves face. Neither of them liked wearing much makeup, but it had to be admitted, it was certainly different. At least she was smiling once more.

'Now you, Lizzie,' Clarissa said, beckoning her to a chair.

'I don't think so,' Elizabeth said, appalled at the idea of it.

'You'll look like sisters, when I've finished with the styling,' Clarissa said, trying to talk them into it.

'Please, mistress, it'll be fun!' Jane enthused. 'We can be sisters for the rest of the day,' she pleaded. 

The stylist looked startled by the word mistress. At least that stopped the inane chatter. Sisters? Being scissor sisters had her thinking. It might be fun. They could wash it all off once home.

Elizabeth fidgeted all the way through the process. Her hair was dyed blonde, with matching hair extensions flowing down her back. It felt heavy when she swayed them around. Like her slave she had long pink fingernails stuck over bitten nails. The makeup was rather good. She looked a little older than twenty-one, so maybe they could be sisters, nearer the same age. 

She knew what kind of sisters her slave wanted them to be, scissor sisters. Well, she wasn't going to be disappointed for long, as they were going home as quickly as possible. There was no way she wanted to be seen looking like a dumb blond.

She had become used to men around her while out in the desert, and wasn't adverse to live, hot cock, occasionally. There hadn't been much chance in Egypt, where she had to be respectable, and behave herself. It had been better to act like one of the guys in the evenings in camp, with Europeans. During the day, in front of locals, she had to carefully cover up.

'You need some clothes to complete the transformation. I'll take you through to the boutique. I'll give you a special discount,' Clarissa whispered, as though sharing a secret. 

The woman was useless compared to a local market vendor in Egypt. The men there spoke several languages, and new every trick in the book to part you from your money.

'Oh, please mistress, just try it!' Jane begged. 

Being worn down by the two of them, she relented. Looking at themselves in a full length mirror, Jane grinned, and Elizabeth grimaced. Elizabeth wanted to get home and rip the clothes off, but her slave was happy, and so was the saleswoman, for obvious reasons. She seemed to have flashing cash symbols in her eyes.

Everything Jane wore, including the underwear, was pink. At least Elizabeth wore pastel blue, but the overall look was still pitiable. They both wore short flared skirts with skimpy halter neck tops, hardly covering much. Elizabeth kept trying to pull the hem down, feeling self-conscious over the tiny thong cleaving her cheeks. 

Jane didn't seem worried at all, even though she wore the same skimpy panties. The quarter cup bra was uncomfortable, as it dug in under her breasts. Jane had the same bra, only her larger breasts were held in an exaggerated deep cleavage. It would be cold outside of the mall, so her nipples would project like bullets before they reached the car.

Elizabeth regretted pleasing her slave before they even left the store. She sighed heavily, knowing it was her own impulsive nature that had gotten her into this mess. 

Clarissa was happy to have offloaded the last of the outfits, at last. The knock down price was at cost, but that was bearable, just to get rid of the tacky clothes.




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 12



'Before you leave, a thank you present,' Clarissa said. 

She fitted dangly loop earrings into Jane's ear lobes, unable to resist polishing the glittery image of two stupid girls out on a trawl for men. Ironically they weren't interested in men. Elizabeth relented, with ill grace. It was just one more embarrassing embellishment to their outfits to be endured. 

Clarissa remembered another part of the fancy dress fad, and fished around in a draw while processing the card. 

'Open up girls,' she laughed. Now the bill had been paid she relaxed. 

Jane did as she was told, with eyes closed, expecting a sweet treat. Elizabeth opened her mouth to complain, and the sales woman popped it into her mouth. Elizabeth choked as it caught in her throat. 

'What the hell is that,' she squeaked. 

She tried to clear her throat, coughing and spluttering. Her slave patted her back and asked if she was alright. Her voice sounded as squeaky and trill as her own.

'What have you done?' Elizabeth asked, sounding like a chipmunk.

'Don't worry, it will dissolve over night. It's all a part of the valley girl, glam range,' Clarissa laughed.

She looked at the two of them leave, one almost floating out, the other, stomping out with silent anger. She creased up laughing, bent over, holding her sides. All that fun and being paid for it too!

'This is so bad!' Elizabeth chirruped. 

'It is embarrassing,' Jane agreed, sounding girly and pathetic. 

Elizabeth looked at the woman sounding like a stupid blond valley girl, and laughed out loud. Even her laugh had a girly tone to it. The sound reminded her of some kids television show, but she couldn't place it. They looked and sounded stupid. Looking at this so called mature woman, she couldn't help seeing it as a big joke. Even so, she didn't want anyone she knew to see her.

It was getting dark outside, so the walk of shame wouldn't be too painful. She was thinking of the shortest route to the exit, when another idea struck her. It might be fun after all. Slave looked more ridiculous than she did, as she was supposed to be a mature woman, with a daughter around her age. Whereas now, they both looked and sounded like blond airheads.

'We need shoes, slave,' Elizabeth announced.

In a cheap store they were approached by a sleazy looking guy. The middle aged man looked perfect. His eyes glowed, and a big smile lit his face when they walked in. This time it wasn't dollar signs in his eyes, it was lust.

'We need shoes to go with these outfits,' Elizabeth chirruped.

'You look beautiful, yes, your outfits need the finishing touch to make them perfect,' he smoothly told them. The eyes never met, as he concentrated on their cleavages.

Elizabeth was even more determined to wind him up, and leave him strung out. After the chauvinism of men in the middle east, she needed revenge, and he would do. He brought over a pair of pink high heels for Jane, and a coffee for Elizabeth. She was content to sip the awful brew, tuning out his dreary sales patter.

Jane was happy with all the attention she was receiving. Her husband had been tight with the purse strings. He would never have allowed a splurge on the wonderful pampering she was receiving this afternoon. Back then, such trashy clothes would have been fit only for the trash can. As for the makeup, it would have disgusted her. Now she was content for others to make the decisions over how she looked, and dressed. She was simply lapping up the attention, like a happy purring little kitten.

Sitting on a low stool he slipped one shoe on, then the other, managing to part her legs while fiddling with the fastener. Sitting on the edge of the chair, the crotch of the little panties was on view. He looked up at her with a big smile. She leant forward to see the new shoes, pushing a large pair of breasts at him. 

He ran a finger around his collar, looking hot and flustered. He leaned back, almost falling off the stool. 

'Walk around in them, to see how you like them,' he advised. 

He came back with a pair of light blue high heels for Elizabeth. She knew what he was up to, but feigned innocence. His hand gently pulled her foot, and she let her thighs part. While he switched his attention between her legs and the shoe, she noted the reaction, and was satisfied. 

'Are you new in town?' he asked, while fiddling with the small buckle at her ankle.

'Yes, just in today. We've jobs in a club. Dancers,' Elizabeth offered, and was pleased when he took the bait.

'What kind of dancers?' he absently asked, not really listening. 

'We're lap dancers,' Elizabeth said, trying not to laugh.

'Oh, really! I guess that's well paid?' he asked. 

She was impressed with the sudden return to business, with him fishing to find out if he could sell them something more expensive.

'Have you thought of leather boots?' he asked.

'Maybe,' she said, to the top of his head, when he returned to ogling her crotch.

Jane came back from her walk around the store, after admiring the new shoes in every mirror. 

Ronald helped Jane up onto the high heels, and guided her to a mirror. He angled it, bottom forward, for Elizabeth to see the shoes, or was it to see up her skirt? It was amusing having all his attention lavished on them, and most importantly, Jane was happy as a kitten with a cream pot. She was all smiles and appreciation. He was pleased to be ogling their honey pots. 

Elizabeth dropped an earring, turned around, and bent over to pick it up. The mirror was still angled behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she spied him ogling her near bare bum. She nearly burst into laughter on seeing his open expression of wonder. A curious feeling of excitement gripped her, then faded. 

'You mentioned boots,' Elizabeth reminded him, sounding like a petulant girl.

Ronald returned with a pair of shiny black, ankle boots, with long laces dangling. Elizabeth said Jane would try them first. While walking around the store getting used to heels, she watched him slip one on her slaves foot. The long laces wrapped around her legs, and on upward to her thighs. He soon had her legs parted, as he wound them higher.

He didn't ask if she minded this intimate intrusion. Jane would have given him the go ahead anyway, for there wasn't a flicker of reticence left in her. The poor thing was a complete slut. When Elizabeth sank down on the edge of a chair next to her slave, the guy seemed to realise he might be going too far.

'The strappy things need straightening. I don't think she can manage that. You best do it,' Elizabeth casually remarked. 

She was getting used to the twee little voice, and it suited her purpose for the moment.

Encouraged, he continued. He rested a heel in his lap, and blatantly pulled her legs apart. His hands started smoothing the laces up her legs, looking as though he were leaving the best till last. He took his time over untwisting them around her thighs. His hands were shaking, and he fumbled around, stroking her thighs. 

The little skirt was up, leaving her slave exposed. She knew the immoral woman wouldn't care, rather, she was enjoying being mauled by a stranger. It wasn't cold in the store, yet her nipples were protruding through the thin top. With no nipple coverage in the push up bra, they were obviously growing, like Pinocchio's nose. The damn slut was arching her back, pushing them out at him!

Ronald looked up at her, and licked his lips. He was sweating. There was a visible lump in his trousers, partly covered by the shiny leather boot. 

'I'll try a pair of those, they look sexy,' Elizabeth said.

He hurried back, almost tripping in haste. Jane was walking around the store looking good, and very sexy. Elizabeth figured she might actually buy some high heels for her. She let the guy enjoy himself, almost feeling sorry for him. 

He had her legs parted and was enjoying winding the laces around her thighs. He fumbled tying them off, with one of her legs raised, for a fine view of a shiny silk purse clutching her lips. It seemed he would never grow tired of this game. About to tell him off, she became aware of the same excitement as before. It stopped her admonishment of his fumbling around, while she tried to fathom why she felt that way.

With both hands covering her face, she sneezed theatrically. Her whole body convulsed, with her legs slapping together, trapping his hands. For a moment they were firmly clamped between her thighs, nudging her sex.

'Sorry, could you get me a tissue?' she said, with a sweet smile. 

While he was away she quickly stood up and pulled at the skirt. Whatever it was exciting her, had to stop. Maybe her slaves disregard for moral standards was catching.

They stood together, facing him. 'What do you think?' Elizabeth asked. 

Both her slave, and the guy, profusely agreed the boots looked great. 

'Might take them. Have you something with very high heels?' she asked.

He murmured something, and dashed off, like a faithful hound for its master's slippers.

The six inch stilettos looked like weapons. The glistening pink shoes looked impossible to walk in. The guy helped Jane up, with both hands gripping hers, and she fell against him, with boobs crashing against his chest. He gripped her hips, not wanting to let go.

'See if you can walk in them, honey,' Elizabeth warbled.

With only a slight wobble, she managed to manoeuvre across the store and back.

Seeing the evident joy in her slaves face, she said, 'We'll take a pair of those.'

Even with a generous allowance, this was seriously denting it.

'Can you give us a generous discount? We can dance for you as part payment,' Elizabeth suggested. She even batted her long, false eyelashes at him.

'Please, I do so love these heels,' Jane whined, playing along with her mistress. 

She swung her hips, and pouted suggestively. The skirt flared around, as though adding to the offer.

'I guess, so. What did you have in mind?' he hesitantly asked. 

He looked unsure as to what he was referring to, the discount, or the dance.

'We need to practice our routine, so we could both give you a lap dance. Not here, perhaps the back room?' Elizabeth suggested. 

She was trying to look innocent, and suggestive at the same time. Both were difficult for her, as she was a straightforward kind of person. They looked like dumb blonds, and had behaved so, or at least tried to, with Jane succeeding perfectly. 

With the main door locked, they traipsed into the storeroom. Jane was the only one not showing nervousness. An old cassette and radio machine was switched on, and Elizabeth found the nearest thing to a raunchy tune on a worn tape. 

'If you want the shoes, you've got to dance. Swing those hips around, slave,' Elizabeth whispered. 

Jane shook off the shoes, and began to shuffle around.

It occurred to her that the game was getting out of hand. She had only intended to drop in and out again, after teasing the guy. He sat on another of those low stools from the store, looking up at them with a beaming face. 

Elizabeth was a bit stiff, unable to flow with the rhythm. Jane seemed to swirl around with hair flowing out, flicking his face. She wondered where the woman had learnt to dance so naughtily. From what she had discovered, the woman had been a quiet housewife, until recently. She knew the woman had lost her moral compass, but where was this coming from?

Jane turned around and bent over, showing off her bare ass. When she wiggled it in his face, he nearly fell off the stool. 

Maybe she could leave the entertainment to her slave.

Jane had played up to men with Margaret, who was a good teacher in the art of teasing. There was no pretence now, so she went for it, enjoying every grind of her hips. She swung her bottom from side to side, then gyrated her cheeks in his face. She could feel his hot breath on her thighs. 

He sat there mesmerised as though before a snake charmer. Her slave was enjoying it too much. A green streak of jealousy tinged her face, and she gritted her teeth. The brainless woman was sexed up, and would give in to whatever he wanted, and he wanted her. She was surprised to see such a big lump in his lap. Maybe not so surprising, from having two sexy women dancing for him. If he cum in his pants it would be all over, and they could walk away, or maybe hobble away in those ridiculous heels.

Elizabeth turned her slave around to face him, and pushed her down on his knees. She pulled the top over slave's head, baring her breasts. Jane responded by leaning forward and throwing her head back, offering her engorged nipples to him. He just sat there unable to believe his good fortune.

Elizabeth wound both arms around her slave, and roughly mauled the sensitive breasts. Jane moaned an unmistakeable sound of pleasure. She cupped slave's breasts, making the offering all the more obvious. As expected he leant forward with a hand grabbing a breast, and his lips absorbing a nipple.

The sooner he climaxed the better. She didn't want him going too far, and in the state slave was in, there would be no stopping him. 

He let go of the breast to push his fingers into Jane's panties. It wasn't thought about, it was just a natural reaction. The little piece of pink cotton gave way easily enough. He felt the denuded lips, the soft open pussy, a woman's wetness, a ready willingness, and shot his load.

Elizabeth pulled the top over slave's breasts, having first to untangle the guys hands from her body. It was necessary to justify the use of her slave in this sordid act, by telling herself the woman enjoyed it. She pulled slave up from her knees, before she could unzip the guy. This showed how right she was. Jane was ready for anyone, and anything, so what did one more sexual encounter matter.

The guy was so grateful he gave them the shoes, and threw tubes of polish in, not noticing if they were the right colours. He saw them to the door, asking where they would be working, and promising to visit once it opened. 

'Come again, anytime,' he said, with meaning. 

Elizabeth realised she had misjudged him. They had walked into his store looking like a couple of hookers, or at least like a couple of dumb blondes. She had played up to him far more than intended, and wondered why. The poor guy had been overwhelmed by them, and it was no wonder his instincts had taken over.

'Thank you for the lovely shoes,' Jane warbled. She warmly added, 'Thank you for kissing my breasts so nicely. Oh, and you fingered me so gently, it was very nice,' she cooed, and kissed him deeply. 

Elizabeth was shocked at such a blatant statement, and so was he. Not to be churlish, about getting it wrong, Elizabeth decided to kiss him. The poor guy looked so bemused and deliriously happy, she lifted up on tiptoe, and gave him a lingering kiss. 

'That was the most wonderful time of my life, ever,' he said, with sincerity. 

Elizabeth felt guilty over using them both. It was against all her principles, and all her father had taught her. She had set him up for a cheap revenge, despite never meeting him before. It didn't make it any easier that the two of them were happy about it. 

She took his face in both hands and kissed him full on. 'You're a really nice guy, be good, and be happy,' she smiled, and quickly left with Jane.

A guy walked by in the opposite direction staring at them, and fell over a bench. A sudden flash of insight had Elizabeth realising she enjoyed the attention. Dressed as she was, and sounding so different, it was a perfect disguise. It allowed her to act the way she looked, like a dumb blond. She could be as naughty and flirty as she liked, without anyone knowing it was her.

***

'We're closed,' Mitch said, then took in the two girls. They looked garish, stupid, and self-obsessed. All the things he hated in that type of young woman. They walked in anyway, assuming he would give way to them, because of course he fancied them. Well he didn't, and he was about to tell them he really was closed.

Elizabeth wasn't used to the heels yet, more used to practical desert boots, or simple flats. One shoe slipped from underneath her, and suddenly she was sitting on the floor, with legs splayed. There was nothing to the little flared skirt, but more importantly, hardly anything to the panties. 

The guy was there in front of her, looking down at her in disdain. She didn't feel excited from showing off her body at that moment. If she could straighten out she would have pulled her legs together. She felt like an idiot, sprawled at his feet, showing off her panties.

'Don't move. Does it hurt anywhere,' he said, sounding put upon. 

Just as he was about to close up, this had to happen. He had to be careful, or she might make a fuss over slipping on the wet floor. He had forgotten to put up a warning, one of those plastic yellow signs that even an idiot couldn't miss, and kept the insurance company happy.

He efficiently checked the ankle and straightened her leg. He helped her up, virtually carrying her to a bench seat. 

'You OK? Bit shocked maybe?' he offered.

'I'm fine, had worse falls than that. Not used to stupid heels,' she complained. 

The squeaky voice was suddenly embarrassing. He was just standing there looking at her, looking annoyed. At least he didn't maul her while examining her ankle, or picking her up. Why did the guy look annoyed, when it was she who fell? Her slave quietly came and sat next to her.

'Where did you learn the fist aid?' she asked. 

'I'm a vet,' he said.

'You learnt first aid in the army,' she nodded, not knowing what to say to that.

'I'm a vet, as in animal doctor,' he chuckled.

'Are you all right mistress,' Jane asked.

Elizabeth winced at the sound of Jane's silly little voice, and being reminded how stupid she sounded too. Why was it so embarrassing here, and not in the shoe shop?

Mitch peered closely at Elizabeth. 'Open up,' he ordered.

Jane obediently opened her legs. 'Stop that, slave,' she said. 

Wincing from that one telling word, she opened her mouth.

'So you've been to Clarissa's,' he chuckled.

Elizabeth warmed to the sound of his laugh. It was a deep rumbling sound. Very pleasant and reassuring.

'Yes, how do you know? Oh! The voice things. Can you get it out? It's so annoying!' Jane squeaked. 

'It will dissolve over night. Besides, you'll need them for the party,' he said.

'There's no party. She talked us into a makeover. I feel stupid, and sound stupid. I am stupid,' she said, with feeling.

They hadn't mentioned an insurance claim, and this one seemed sensible, despite the little squeaky voice. 

'How about a cup of coffee, on the house.'

'I need one, thanks. Oh! Do you mind making it strong, I'm used to middle eastern coffee,' she explained.

'How's that?' he asked.

'I work there, I'm an archaeologist,' she proudly stated. 

He smiled back at her. 'The words are sensible, but everything else about you screams dumb blond,' he said. 

About to complain, she took in the smile, and a devilish glint in his eye. She held back, staring into his blue eyes. They seemed to be searching for something.

'Slave would like a coffee,' Jane said.

'Sure, I'll get it, now, nice and strong for you,' he smiled at Elizabeth.

If he had noticed Jane refer to herself as a slave, he seemed to take no notice. Elizabeth assumed he thought it was all a part of the makeover joke. The initial look of disdain had vanished, and he was treating her with respect, despite the way she looked and sounded.

The three of them sipped a coffee. 'It's good, best I've had since coming home,' she complimented him.

'Turkish coffee. A client gives it to me when I treat his horses,' he smiled at her.

'What are you doing here, it's not a vets job,' she said.

'My brothers away on vacation, California, somewhere warm,' he said. 




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 12



'I'm used to the heat, enjoy it,' she said, while wondering what was happening between them.

'It's cold outside, you'll need coats just to get to your vehicle,' he said, nodding at their skimpy outfits. 

'Damn! We left our clothes in the shoe store!'

'It will be closed now. You are a dumb blond,' he chuckled.

'Well, we do have more fun,' she teased back at him.

'No challenge talking to a dumb blond,' he said.

'You mean it's too easy talking a dumb blond out of her panties,' Elizabeth said, then wished she hadn't.

'Nothing to talk about afterwards. Discussing history with an archaeologist would be interesting,' he said. 

The seriousness in his voice, coupled with an enigmatic smile, had her heart racing. He could see through the stupid look, right into her. Was it her imagination, or was she really being dumb. All that messing around in the shoe store must still be with her, smouldering away, and he was igniting her fire.

She dropped her eyes away from him, seeking protection from that powerful look. The clothes were unusual for her, so she wasn't used to keeping them in order. The constant pulling at the hem, and adjustments to the top, weren't needed in coveralls on a dig.

The long distance stare of deep thought, eventually focused on her lap. The skirt was high around her thighs, and her breasts were almost falling out the side of the top. She quickly adjusted her clothes, and glanced at her slave to check her out. The slave was more used to slutty clothes, and so kept them in order. Without thinking she looked from slaves large breasts to her own, finding them somehow inadequate in comparison. 

Jane had her arms folded looking daggers at her.

'I am a stupid blond. Can't remember which area I parked in, or which entrance we came in,' she mumbled

'The malls closed, so you'll have to use the back door, through there,' he said, nodding to kitchen door.

'I'd best go fetch it while Jane waits here,' she said. Not rising to go, just sitting there, told them both she didn't want to leave.

'I'll get your vehicle and bring it around the back. You can slip out, straight into a warm car,' he suggested.

'Slip, in these heels, is the right word,' she nervously laughed, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. 'How will you find it?' she asked.

'The mall is closed, so it should be sitting by itself, somewhere,' he grunted.

'Slave, call me Lizzie while we're here. Don't refer to yourself as slave. That's an order, understood!' Elizabeth whispered.

'Yes, mistress, sorry, Lizzie,' Jane said, and nervously adjusted her top. It was too small for her large breasts, though she managed to keep them in check.

They traipsed into the back room, through the small kitchen. Mitch opened the back door where a blast of ice cold rain immediately soaked him. He slammed the door shut.

'You'll freeze to death out there,' Elizabeth said.

'Where in hell did that blow in from?' he shivered.

'Not from hell, that's for sure, it's supposed to be fire and brimstone,' she quipped.

'You could stay here until it eases off. There's food and good coffee,' he offered.

'You had best get out of those wet clothes,' Elizabeth told him.

'I thought it was the dumb blond who was supposed to be talked out of her clothes,' he said.

The thought of staying awhile, with him, was unaccountably nice.

'There's time yet,' she jibed. 'You're shivering, you need warming up or you'll catch your death,' she said.

Elizabeth struggled with the sofa bed, eventually pulling it out, complete with rumpled bedding.

'Get everything off, you've nothing I haven't seen before,' she ordered.

Jane was staring at him, almost licking her lips. 

'Go on then, get in and warm him up,' she told Jane. He was hesitating, looking at Elizabeth as though she were crazy. 'You need body heat, or you'll have hypothermia,' she explained

Jane pulled her clothes off, almost ripping them in haste.

'There's bread and a toaster in the kitchen, do you mind?' Mitch asked.

'Sure, sounds perfect. Little stupid me can handle that,' she laughed, and left him to slide into bed next her slave. 

Jane wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. She was hot as hell, and determined to heat him up. He felt embarrassed being in bed with her friend. What could he say? It was working though, his shivering subsided.

Elizabeth brought them toast and coffee. It was a struggle to loosen her friends grip. He sat up and was surprised to see Elizabeth stripping off. She was no prude. He tried to look away, but admired her lithe, tanned body.

'It didn't take much, to get a couple of dumb blonds into your bed,' Elizabeth said, between bites of toast.

'The hard part was conjuring up the ice storm,' he teased back.

'If you're a wizard, where's your wand?' she asked.

'You seem to have found it,' he nervously answered.

Elizabeth showed him both hands, and they looked at Jane.

'I'll put the lights out,' she said.

He watched her brazenly walk across to the light switch, while her friend had his cock gripped tight, slowly manipulating it. Hell! She hadn't said a word, or showed it bothered her at all. She just accepted her friend was playing with him. He fancied her, and thought something good was happening between them. What was going on?

He lay there stiff, not just his penis. He was trying not to touch either of them inappropriately, though in the small bed they were pressed up close. Jane was a beautiful woman, but it was Elizabeth he was interested in. This should have been a fantasy come true, in bed with two naked blonds, yet he felt awkward and unsure what to do.

'What's going on?' he asked.

'Jane needs sex. You'd best oblige her, or we'll not get any sleep,' Elizabeth said, knowing it sounded unusual, if not plain madness. How could she explain the situation in a way that he might understand.

Jane felt awful. Her mistress was right, she badly needed sex. She had kept quiet, trying to let the two of them get to know each other. It was bad enough that her mistress got into bed with him, before getting to know him. What was he to think now, when her mistress was telling him to take her slave. She was spoiling their relationship before it got going. Despite that thought, she held onto his cock, desperate to have it.

'Is she a nymphomaniac?' he whispered.

'Something like that. Do me a favour, just satisfy her, will you,' Elizabeth said, through clenched teeth. 

She was trying to be reasonable, and deal with it logically. Getting a stranger to fuck her slave, how could that be reasonable? Having to deal with a slave in this day and age, wasn't reasonable either. 

'I. It's you. I mean, I was hoping you, and I, could get to know each other,' he haltingly spoke. It was difficult telling someone that he liked them, while her friend was playing with his penis. 

'Please just do it. We can forget this happened, and start again sometime,' she said, and pushed him closer to Jane.

Jane pulled him on top, and manoeuvred him into place. She wrapped her legs around him, digging her heels into his bottom. It was more than his reticence could stand. He thrust in, meaning to get it over and done with. He began to pound her sex, with her guiding his hips into a fierce fucking. 

With all the humiliation of that afternoon, looking, sounding, and behaving like a stupid blonde bimbo, Jane was more than ready. She soon had a deep orgasm. She let him roll off her sweaty body. He lay back between them, panting. 

'What's she doing now?' he whispered to Elizabeth.

Jane was manoeuvring in the tight space, making her way down the bed.

'She's going to suck you clean,' Elizabeth drily stated.

She was angry with herself, not her slave, or him. She told herself yet again, it had to be done. It didn't mean she had to like it. There were plenty of other guys around, though one like him? Shit! Why did this have to happen with him? What were the gods punishing her for, was there a curse on their latest dig? If this was a curse, it was devious, and very strange.

'Tell her there's no need, I didn't cum,' he whispered, as though she wouldn't here.

Elizabeth ducked her head under the covers to order her slave, 'Stop that, now!'

'Why not?' Elizabeth asked him.

'I told you, I want you, I mean, to get to know you better,' he lamely said.

'There's no time like the present,' she said, with a smile on her face. 

She kissed him gently, opening her mouth to him, feeling him getting to know her. She had been furiously jealous, becoming hotter than hell, now it was her chance to take him back.

She let him explore her body, getting to know him, from the way he touched her. She liked what he was doing. The gentle caresses, the squeezes to her breasts and nipples. The smooth delicate touches over her body, unhurried, intimate, and caring. He needn't excite her, she was ready. There was no hurried fumbling. He was telling her with his fingers that he cared. 

She opened her legs for him to smoothly take her. This time it was no hurried screw, this was making love. What had attracted them would be found out sometime in the future, now it was time to let the attraction pull them into being one.

He slowly rode her, in time with her gasps. Jane he had just fucked because that was what she needed. Elizabeth needed more, much more. She needed his approval, and a promise to get to know her, not just screw her. So far they were compatible, finding each others' rhythm was perfect.

She started to orgasm, and her satisfaction set him off. They were both very still, with every nerve ending sensitive. She feeling his cock shudder. He spurt hot cum into her, and her pussy drank it all. Her vaginal spasms closed tight upon his cock, as though milking him of sperm.

He relaxed upon her, and she pulled him close, wanting to feel the weight of his body. She wanted to become one with him, to be a part of him. He slid from on top, to rest beside her. 

Elizabeth pulled Jane toward them to squash him between them. 

'Bite her nipples she likes that,' she whispered.

He hesitated, then slid his arms around them both. Jane pushed her breasts at him, to receive his attention. She quietly moaned, enjoying his lips and teeth, and pushed her large breasts in his face. He bit her nipples and almost suffocated in her soft pillows. 

He came up for breath, and Elizabeth told him, 'My turn now, gently,' she warned him.

He licked her nipples, and sucked as much of a breast into his mouth as he could. He kissed them, gently bit them, and cherished them. Unable to carry on he let them go. He pulled the two blond heads onto his chest, and kissed one then the other.

They listened to the wind howling through power lines for awhile, then fell asleep.



Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 13



Chapter 13 

Kidnapped

Next morning the three of them awoke. Elizabeth looked embarrassed. Last night she had not only had sex with a stranger, but given her slave to him. He must think they were a couple of sluts. Jane looked concerned, not knowing what was to happen to her. Would her mistress give her away to this young guy.

Mitch looked so happy his face might split. 

'Could you get our clothes from the clothes store. Or, they might be where we had the make-over,' Elizabeth said. 

She was trying to sound matter of fact, as though nothing had happened.

'I might not. I might keep you both, as my concubines. You won't need clothes then,' he said.

'Oh? I'm just a blond bimbo, don't know what a concubine is,' she cheekily said. At least the silly voice had gone, though she put one on to tease him.

'A concubine is a woman kept by a man, for his naughty delights,' he said, trying to be serious.

'When you did naughty things to us last night, did you make us yours? Is that why you get to keep us?' she said. 

'That's right. You both need to be kept out of trouble,' he said, breaking off a laugh.

'We're just airheads, and can't think for ourselves. We're always getting into trouble, so your right, we need looking after. You're a big strong, clever man, so us silly little things should do as you tell us, sir,' she said. 

She spoke in a girly voice, batting her new eyelashes at him. She put her head on one side, in an attempt to look coy and innocent.

'That's a good dumb blond, all you have to do is what I tell you,' he laughed.

She giggled along with him, while Jane stared at them with concern. Of course her mistress was playing around, but was she mimicking her? Was this what she looked and sounded like? She was a mature adult, dressed up like an airhead of a girl. How bad was that. She had been reduced to being a stupid, vacuous girl, of no consequence. She had no opinions, no objectives, except those given to her.

'Thank you sir, that is such a relief. This silly little airhead can't think with her little girly brain. She will have to do all that you tell her, sir,' she giggled.

'Breakfast might be a good start,' he teased.

'What then, sir. Will sir, use his concubine in naughty ways?' she grinned.

'Damn! Look at the time. I've got to get the store open. We get a rush of customers in, the people opening their own stores,' he explained.

Not bothering to cover his nakedness, he jumped out of bed. The women watched him dress, admiring his strong fit body. His tapered back, slim waist, and a cute bottom were of interest. They confirmed he had a pair of strong legs, already knowing so, from last nights' performance.

'Both Ronald and Clarissa will be in shortly, I'll ask them to drop your clothes in,' he hurriedly told them.

As best they could, the two of them washed in a small sink, meant for hand washing. The makeup was off, and the stupid voice gadgets were clear of their throats. With a comb and a brush, they managed to bring their hair into order. 

'These outfits are dreadful. I don't want to be seen like this,' Elizabeth complained.

'Sorry, mistress, it's all my fault,' Jane said.

'Don't worry, it was a moment of madness, that's all. It was fun, and ended up well,' she reassured her slave. 

Elizabeth looked at Jane, wondering why she had jumped into bed with that guy. She remembered feeling excited at the way men looked at her, when they walked through the mall. It wasn't anything to do with looking stupid. Maybe it was something to do with looking as though they were sluts and available. For a whole year the opposite was true, while working in the desert.

Everything had been tidied away and cleaned up, when Mitch came back in. 

'Here's your clothes,' he said, and quickly went back to the customers.

They thankfully pulled decent clothes from the bags, and got dressed. Elizabeth was tempted to dump the garish outfits, but kept them. They walked into the coffee shop through the kitchen, as the rush of customers died down.

'A coffee before you leave,' he asked, with a bright smile.

'Listen. Last night was, well, unusual. OK?' Elizabeth awkwardly spoke.

'Forgotten! Well, maybe I'm lying. You know what I mean. A fresh day and a fresh start, OK?' he smiled.

'Good. We've got to go. Here's my number, give me a call,' she said. 

She gave him a little smile, and he thought she looked hopeful. 

'I will, promise. I want to get to know you better,' he said.

'Better than last night!' she teased.

'Different to that. I mean, you know what I mean,' he said.

'You just want us as concubines, pandering to your whims,' she goaded him.

'I want a proper date!' he scolded her.

'I'll phone you,' he said, and kissed her.

'I think Jane deserves a kiss too, after last night,' she rebuked him. 

He had been ignoring Jane, not wanting to acknowledge they had sex. Unconsciously Elizabeth wanted to see how they reacted, and decide whether to be jealous or not.

He pecked her on the cheek. 'Thank you for last night. It was wonderful for me, I hope it was for you. Are you alright about it?' he quietly asked.

'Don't worry, I'm alright,' Jane smiled, and kissed him on the lips. 'If you decide to take on a sexy slave girl, let me know,' she said, and winked. 

At the same time she nodded her head at Elizabeth, leaving him wondering if she meant both of them, or just Elizabeth.

A customer walked, in so they broke off their playfulness. 

'The mid morning customers are arriving, I better get on with it,' he said.

He watched them leave, no longer hobbling on high heels. What a night that was! He considered re-chalking the blackboard, with a declaration in big bold lettering, "I had two beautiful blonds in bed last night!" He wouldn't tell anyone, not even his brother.

'Wake up! A latte please,' the guy repeated.

'Sure, no problem, on the house!' Mitch said, breaking into a big smile.

'Your brother wouldn't approve. Thanks, much appreciated. I'll tell him what a good job your doing,' the guy said, and returned the smile.

***

Jane didn't know what to say to her mistress. Sleeping with the man Elizabeth was keen on wasn't a good idea. Especially so, when she was so dependent upon her. The girl had purchased her as an object from a store, defining her as nothing more than a humble slave. Being collared, and declaring her submission, made it all the more real. These thoughts swirled through her head, reinforcing the self-imposed position of slave.

Elizabeth felt happy and contented. She dismissed the fact that Jane had slept with the handsome man she was keen on getting to know. The circumstances had been unique. He had treated Jane with understanding, and he wasn't crowing over bedding the two of them. He was a decent guy, worth getting to know.

The journey home took all her concentration, with unsuspected black ice patches everywhere. A comfortable smile settled on her face once home. She went through the paperwork brought back from the last exploration. Nothing exciting had been discovered, which was usual.

'Thanks, slave,' Elizabeth casually said.

'You're welcome, mistress,' Jane quietly responded, and left the study as silently as she had entered.

Jane was avoiding her mistress, hoping she would forget the trouble she caused yesterday. She had an expensive makeover, and persuaded her mistress to have the same. Then they had rudely danced for her gorgeous shoes, as they were too expensive to afford. Most damning of all, she had slept with a man her mistress liked. 

Sooner or later she would have to pay the price for her misdeeds. She was just a slave, so she was to blame, and would have to be punished. She even felt bad over wanting to be punished. Knowing she would become excited when put over the young girls knee for a spanking, added to her guilt. 

Elizabeth couldn't concentrate on the work in front of her, however much she tried. The phone rang, startling her. Was it him?

'Hi dad, how you doing? Everything OK? She's fine, fixing dinner. No problem, we're getting on fine. Yes! I'm looking after her,' Elizabeth told her father. 

She felt bad over letting his slave sleep with a stranger. There again, she had slept with him too. The relationship had certainly started in a strange way.

'We weren't out in the storm, safely tucked up in bed, with a hot drink. Is Uncle Phil alright? Good. Was it painful? The thing you had to do for him?' she said.

They ran out of things to say, and mumbled their love, followed by hearty goodbyes. So, Uncle Phil didn't have medical insurance. That meant dad had to pick up the bill again. At least it wasn't gambling debts this time.

No sooner had she put the phone down than it rang again.

'Hi Elizabeth, wanted to make sure you got home safely. There's black ice out there, treacherous stuff,' he said.

'Sure, thanks, err, it's nice of you to call. How's business, plenty of customers?' she asked, feeling awkward.

'The weather has kept them away. What about you, busy?' he asked.

'Trying to concentrate on work, but can't. Thinking of you, partly. I don't usually, you know, jump into bed with someone,' she said, avoiding mentioning Jane.

'We need to go on a few dates, to catch up, get to know each other, that sort of thing,' he said. 

There was a hint of that throaty chuckle she liked.

'That will be nice. We need to start again,' she laughed.

He was tempted to say he thought it was a great start, but instinctively held off.

'Tomorrow night? We can start with a coffee and see where it goes,' he said.

'I was thinking of dinner, somewhere neutral. That Italian place outside the mall. We could meet around seven?' she asked.

'Yes, that's great, I look forward to it,' he said.

More awkward goodbyes than with her father were made, with each not wanting to hang up, though not knowing what to say.

He didn't mention Jane, or last night at all. Elizabeth sat back with a grin on her face. 

***

That night they got into bed, a big comfortable one this time, and more importantly, just the two of them.

'I don't feel like playing around tonight. I can play with you if you want,' Elizabeth offered.

'It's alright, mistress, whatever you want, mistress,' Jane answered.

'OK, let's just cuddle,' she said.

Jane felt the new dildo, shaped like a penis, nestling behind her. It was a reminder of last night. Was her mistress angry with her, therefore, not prepared to play. The loving way in which mistress was cuddling her, was reassuring. The girl fell asleep, and she gentle kissed her lips. It was a nice relationship, yet very strange. 

Last year she wouldn't have dreamt of having a lesbian affair. The mere suggestion would have been distasteful. Stranger still, was having this young girl buy her from a store to be used, like a household object. She wasn't just Elizabeth's lover, she was owned as a slave, committed to absolute obedience. It was all the more humiliating that her mistress was only twenty-one. She was a thirty-four year old woman, having to obey a young woman's every instruction.

The idea that she put herself into the role of slave, had been ignored some time ago. The role was firmly seated in her mind, and she lived to the rules of obedience, leaving all responsibility to others. The guilt over sleeping with her mistresses lover faded, as she decided it wasn't her responsibility. She was following her mistresses orders, so she was blameless. 

Having resolved yet another conflict of conscience, with the excuse that she was merely a slave, Jane fell asleep.

***

The two women suddenly woke up when the light was switched on, and the covers were pulled back. It quickly sank in that two men were leering at their naked bodies. Jane didn't bother covering herself up, and Elizabeth merely pulled her legs together. They had said something but she missed what it was.

'Come on slave, we're here to collect you,' Phil brashly stated.

'Who's this other one?' Benny asked his pal.

'No idea. We've instructions to pick up one slave, and bring it to Las Vegas. You're the older one so it must be you,' Phil said, pointing at Jane.

The two women were in shock, not knowing what to say.

'Come on, get dressed, we have to get back,' Phil grimaced. 

He wasn't looking forward to the long drive. They had flown out here, picked up a rental van, lost their way, and eventually found what they were after. There was supposed to be only the woman, not this girl. She looked good, but what the fuck were they to do with her?

'I'll phone the boss, you stand out here, while she puts some clothes on,' Phil said.

'Where are you taking her? You can't bust in here and kidnap Jane, she belongs here,' Elizabeth shouted. 

They knew Jane thought of herself as a slave! She wasn't sure what to say, with so many questions churning her thoughts.

'I've instructions to say, you've been purchased, and have a new owner. That is, the slave has,' Phil said, again pointing at Jane. 'Just get dressed while I sort this out,' he harshly ordered. Wandering into the lounge he muttered to himself. 'Why won't just one thing go as planned. Why is there always shit to deal with.'

'What's this then? When the masters' away the slaves play!' Benny laughed. 

He held up a dildo, brandishing it before them like a sword. Both women looked away, filled with embarrassment. More so than being naked. He hefted it like a cosh, and stood at the door, with his back to them.

'I can't let them take you away from me, I promised dad to look after you,' Elizabeth whispered, while looking through the wardrobe.

'I've been sold,' Jane pathetically said. 

Elizabeth found something sensible to wear, not wanting to show off her own, or her slaves body.

'Maybe he needs the money for medical bills,' Elizabeth said to herself. 'Damn! It's not right! You can't leave dad,' she told Jane.

'I have to go, I've a new master,' Jane said. She looked shocked and sad, like a puppy having had her nose rubbed in her own pee.

'Can't get through to the boss,' Phil said to his pal. 

'What do we do with this other one?' Benny asked.

'Leave her here I guess,' Phil mused. 

He didn't want to do that, so she was a problem. He was pretty sure what they were doing was illegal, though that didn't trouble him, it was getting caught that was a bugger.

'I'm a slave, we're both slaves, so you must take me as well,' Elizabeth shouted down the hall.

'Shut up Jane. Do as I say and keep quiet. I'm going with you. Don't worry, we'll run away when we can, back here. If your new master looks OK, I'll just go,' she lied. 

There was no way she was going to leave Jane with anyone, even if they were a saint. 

'No! You mustn't! You're not a slave!' Jane complained.

'I can't fight these brutes. They'll take you away, and I'll never find you. I've got to go with you. It's not legal to keep us as slaves, so we can just walk away, and find dad,' she said. 

Once her mind was made up she clung on to the idea. Besides, what she told Jane was true. Whoever it was couldn't keep her against her will, and so she would run for it, and take Jane with her.

They climbed into the back of the van. Jane was willing, and Elizabeth complied through necessity. It was also an adventure, being abducted in the middle of the night. Archaeology had turned out to be mundane, full of record keeping after finding nothing but pot shards. This would be something to recount to those boring men in the evenings, while sitting around a campfire.

'I'll drive, while you sleep. I'll wake you in a couple of hours for your turn,' Phil told his pal.

They couldn't see inside the dark interior when they got in. Leaning against what she thought was the vans side, she found it was some kind of mesh. In the dark she explored the space, to find they were in a cage. Pushing her fingers through the wire mesh, she found the rest was filled with soft foam. The van was sound proofed! More than anything this frightened her, but she dare not let on to Jane. 

Whoever they were working for, someone had gone to a lot of trouble to spirit them away. Up until then she had been hoping this was her father's game. She wondered if he was trying to shock Jane out of her fantasy, and there was still a chance it was so.

Settling down on a mattress, they had nothing to do but talk. It also helped her nervousness.

'Why do you think of yourself as a slave, Jane?' Elizabeth asked.

'I was bought in a store, by you, mistress,' Jane replied.

'Better call me Lizzie from now on,' Elizabeth said.

'Yes, Lizzie.'

'I meant before then, before my father even,' she persisted.

'I got into trouble. Caught stealing some jewellery. I wasn't going to, I was just looking at it, honest,' Jane miserably said. 

She explained what happened at the party, with the young guys, and a neighbours son. She felt so wretched, she gave in to the neighbour, and became her servant.

'The insurance money had gone, and I was in debt. There was no choice, I had to sell the house, and move in with the neighbour. To raise money, I put myself up for auction, as a slave. So, that's it, I became a slave. I've had good masters and mistresses. I've been auctioned, sold in stores, won in a card game, and simply taken as a slave. Now I've been bought by a new master,' Jane said. 

To her it was a simple recounting of the facts. She missed out that most of these episodes were just a game, played out with Elizabeth's father. It was true she had been won on the turn of a card, but that also had been at her connivance, and she safely ended up back with Bob.

Elizabeth thought the woman had been a slave for some years, from the way she described the events in her life. It was no wonder she thought of herself as a slave, after having submitted to so many masters, and mistresses.

'How do you get out of this? How can I free you?' Elizabeth asked.

'Once a slave, always a slave. I'm used to serving. I don't want to go back to making decisions. What is right and wrong, I just leave to others to decide. All I have to do is obey my owner. All the troubles of life have been lifted from my shoulders, for others to deal with. I like being a slave,' Jane explained.

'You make it sound inviting,' Jane sighed. 

She was too tired to argue with the woman. She wanted to know what made her think she was a slave, so as to bring her out of the fantasy world she lived in. Elizabeth was no further forward in fathoming this deep-set idea. On the contrary, it seemed it suited her, so maybe she shouldn't interfere.

She looked at the older woman, wondering how long it would take to slide under, and accept fate as this woman had. Thinking through Jane's tale, she realised how easy it is to give in. The woman had been a responsible person, with a normal lifestyle. Until that life came crashing down, and she became a slave.

Was this her fate too? 

Jane cuddled her, soothing her with soft whispers, while stroking her body. She must help her accept this new life style, or she would suffer. Not just from punishments, but from anguish as well. 

'Let's get some sleep, we'll need to be fit in the morning,' Elizabeth said.

The two caged women were woken up at dawn, by the side door sliding open. The cage door was unlocked for a metal basin to be thrust in. 

'Use this if you have to,' Benny said. He turned away to fetch the sandwiches.

Elizabeth was appalled. Last night she had been in shock, not noticing they had been locked in the cage. Having to pee in a basin wasn't too bad, as the facilities in the desert camp where she worked weren't up to much. 

Jane excepted the demeaning position calmly. Jane watched her let loose. The woman seemed to revel in being subjected to the demeaning position, as it reinforced her self-image as a slave.




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 13



Looking out the door, Jane could see miles of farm land. They had turned off the highway onto a county road, miles from anywhere. She watched him rinse the bowl with bottled water, and stow it somewhere out of her line of sight. Another bottle of water was thrown into the cage, together with a pack of sandwiches. 

Without another word spoken, the door was slammed shut, and they were soon on the road again. Jane sat hunched up in the corner of the cage. She was wondering if she had made a big mistake. 

Jane seemed to take it all calmly. What it might take to frighten her, was difficult to know. The more dire the situation, the more it reinforced her lowly status as a mere slave. She became more content to let things happen, without a fight. 

Damn and shit! These two hefty guys had come after Jane, not knowing she was there. If dad had sold Jane he would have told them his daughter was there, and to leave her at home. That meant they had kidnapped them, to be slaves. This boss they mentioned back at the house, he wanted Jane, but doesn't know about her. 

'I'm sure your father has sold us to a decent master. He wouldn't sell us to just anyone, Lizzie,' Jane tried to reassure her. She wrapped her arms around Elizabeth and cuddled her.

'Maybe this is an elaborate game, dreamed up by dad,' Elizabeth said.

'He does like to indulge me,' Jane smiled, and stroked Elizabeth's hair. 

One of the extensions came loose, so she began to groom her.

Elizabeth felt as though they were monkeys in a cage. Prize exhibits, to be shown off in a circus. 

'Come and see the slaves perform. Main attraction, the Lesbian antics of two dumb blonds getting off on each other. Bet on the one to cum first,' Elizabeth angrily spat.

'Come on, Lizzie, it's not that bad. You can go back home once we are delivered. Whoever it is, can't keep you,' Jane told her.

'What if we're kept in a cage all the time, and can't get free? They might just take us out to fuck,' she protested.

'Your father wouldn't have sold us to someone cruel, would he,' Jane pointed out.

'No, I guess not. I'm just too tired to think straight,' Elizabeth said, sounding disheartened. 

'That's right, Bob would make sure he was a responsible master. Someone who will look after us,' Jane smiled, continuing to fix Elizabeth's hair.

'Of course he would,' Elizabeth said.

'We'll have to be good slaves, to make sure we're not punished. I don't want to be punished for you being naughty,' Jane firmly said.

'I won't let you down, Jane. I'll try not to be so impulsive and get us into trouble,' Elizabeth said, with eyes slowly closing.

'You must promise to obey our new master, and not upset him. Just relax, and leave everything to our master. Let our master make the decisions, and obey him. It's as simple as that, and all will be well,' Jane said.

'Alright, Jane. I promise not to get you into any more trouble. I'll be a good girl, and obey our master,' Elizabeth sleepily said. 

'Promise me you'll stay out of trouble, and obey your new master,' Jane said. 

She was concerned that Elizabeth would do something silly, and have them both punished. It was so much better to give in, and leave things to those who knew what was best for them. 

'Let me sleep, Jane. Alright, I promise to stay out of trouble, and obey our master,' Elizabeth promised.

'My master?' she drowsily murmured. 'What?' 

'We've been bought, as slaves. You are a slave now, Lizzie,' Jane whispered in her ear.

'Slave, alright. Let me sleep,' Elizabeth murmured. Her eyes were closed, half way to dreamland.

'Promise me you'll be a good slave girl, and not get into trouble,' Jane insisted.

'Alright, I'll be a good slave girl,' Elizabeth sighed.

'He will keep us safe, if we are obedient slaves,' Jane mumbled, as she too fell asleep.

Both women slept fitfully with eyelids twitching vigorously, and limbs occasionally trembling. 

***

Elizabeth was confused. She had no recollection of a flight to middle east, yet here she was, back in the country she had been working in. Hassan was an influential man, and had arranged with the government for them to dig in the ruins of an ancient city. The boss had often told her to keep him happy, by showing him their progress out on site.

Now she was in his stables, in a cage. Hassan was her new master!

'I'll not submit, never!' she shouted from the cage. 

Suddenly appearing before her was the trainer, who shouted back at her, 'You are worthless, less than these thoroughbred horses, so learn your place, slave.' 

He threw a bucket of cold water over her naked body. She was about to laugh at him, and thank him for the cooling shower.

Everything seemed to be happening so suddenly, it was difficult to keep up. 

'Please Elizabeth, try and be an obedient slave. Like this you are less than one of his animals, and will be treated badly,' Jane sympathised. 

Elizabeth peered through the bars, but her friend wasn't there. She wondered how long she could hold out against the trainer's ill treatment, and her friend's advice wearing her down . From a lack of food, and sleep, she felt close to defeat.

Elizabeth blinked, and found she was no longer in the stables. 

'You've been a troublesome slave. I am glad to find you have learnt obedience, at last,' Hassan declared.

Right then she felt grateful to her master to be let out of her cage. Her head was lowered to the floor in supplication to her lord and master. 

She didn't remember putting clothes on. She was wearing a harem girls outfit consisting of a filmy top, with diaphanous pantaloons. When he moved close to her, she lifted her head slightly, to kiss his feet.

'Very well, you can move into the slave quarters,' he said, and dismissed her.

She crawled backwards out of the room, murmuring her gratitude. She had been broken, and was now an obedient slave girl. It meant she would be well treated, and could leave all her worries behind. Jane would be pleased to see her, and she was looking forward to cuddling her tonight, after so often sleeping alone.

'You need to prepare yourself for this evenings guests,' the senior slave cajoled her. 

She recognised the woman from that store where she pretended to buy Jane. What in hell was she doing here? 

Elizabeth was unaccountably in a guest room, with head bowed, wondering how she had got there.

'I am here to serve you, master,' Elizabeth courteously spoke. Curiously her voice had changed to a light, feminine eastern accent. 

'Very nice, indeed,' the Englishman said.

She knew he was admiring her lithe body, able to see everything through the transparent garments. It was a thrill exhibiting herself so blatantly to a stranger. 

'Your slave girl is pleased you like it,' she humbly spoke.

'What now?' he asked.

'I am you're slave girl tonight, master. Your slave will attend you during dinner, and afterward, in your bed, master,' she said.

'The whole night?' he asked.

'The whole night, if you desire, master,' she said.

Her pulse had risen, and she was short of breath. It was demeaning knowing the arousal was from being trained as a sex slave. 

When she looked at him again, she realised it was Humphrey, one of her students on the archaeology expedition! She was no longer an archaeologist, she was now a simple slave girl, ready to serve him. The thought of him identifying her, was alarming! It was embarrassing enough being his servant. Later, it would be absolutely humiliating, serving as his sex slave.

'So what will you do, all night?' he asked, with a smile on his lips.

'Whatever my master, desires,' she said, pushing her eastern accent harder. 

She felt so small and insignificant, it might be possible to scurry away under the door. The all-over tan, and the extraordinary situation, prevented him from seeing who she was. Maybe she could serve him enough wine during dinner, he would become too drunk to want her later.

The next moment they were in a large room, richly decorated in an eastern style. She stood behind the group of three students, with their slaves, awaiting orders. 

'The boss wants you Humphrey. I'll look after your slave,' Richard told him. 

Richard's father part financed the dig, so he thought he was too important to take orders from her. He hit upon her the moment he arrived on site, but gave up after she put him down several times. She made it clear she was his supervisor, and the boss's assistant. The arrogant pest was the last person she wished to meet, especially under these circumstances.

'Your Humphrey's slave tonight,' Richard observed.

'Yes, master,' she said, with head bowed. 

He took her chin in a strong hand, and lifted her head to look in her eyes. He then stood back to examine her.

'What are you doing here?' he asked.

'I'm one of Hassan's slaves, master,' she answered. 

At that moment she realised that obedience was well ingrained into her mind. All she could do was stand there, letting him enjoy her naked body.

'I'll see Humphrey about swapping you for my slave,' he gleefully said.

'As you wish master,' is all she could say.

The thought of being this bastards sex slave for the night, was repulsive. He had a mean streak, and thought he could bully everyone because he was wealthy. Being in his bed would be dangerous, as well as degrading. 

'That outfit doesn't cover anything at all does it, slave,' he smirked.

'As you say, master,' she responded.

'What will you do for me tonight, slave?' he asked.

'Anything you wish, master,' she said. 

'Explain what you will do in bed, slave,' he demanded to know.

'My body is freely available for use, master,' she said. That was bad enough, but there was no choice, she had to give him details. 'Slave's lips, breasts, throat, asshole, and vagina are for your use, master. You may use this slave in any way you desire, master,' she said. 

The dire dread she felt wasn't revealed for a single moment. She was a well trained, and obedient sex slave. As horrendous as it might be, she would serve his every whim. 

Elizabeth didn't notice the others gathering around her, until they were there, commenting on her new role. She wanted to squirm with shame, only the training held her in place. She obediently bent over, with legs spread, knowing they could see everything between her legs. What made it worse, was that she was obviously on fire with desire.

***

Jane was wearing a silk designer gown in pale blue, matching her eyes. The sheath was made for her, and hugged her figure. Lounging in the back of a limousine with her new master, she sipped Champaign. They were on their way to the airport to be flown in his private jet to New York. He was going to show her off to friends, though he promised to buy her expensive finery, and jewellery. 

She sat back gazing into her masters eyes. He kept her busy, and happy in bed. Though, that wasn't the only place they made love. He found all kinds of places to take her, and used all her places. She had fallen in love with him from the first time he gave her a wonderful orgasm.

She had never, ever, been so happy in her life.

***

The van pulled up, and the side door slid open. Jane and Elizabeth blinked their eyes from the sudden glare of slanted, early morning sunlight. 

'I had the weirdest dream,' Elizabeth told Jane.

Before Jane could recount hers, they were ordered out of the van.

'We're here, get out,' Benny said.

The two men helped them out, and had to hold them up while their circulation returned. 

'Come on, let's go,' Phil told them. He led them onto a concrete platform, and through a large doorway, into the delivery area of a large building, 

***

Bob was looking out a window of the ward his brother shared with another patient. 

'Is that Elizabeth and Jane?' he asked Charley.

Charley craned his neck, looking across the road. 'You must be missing them. You're imagining it,' he said.

'Why were they being manhandled out the back of a van, and marched into that building?' Bob mused out loud. 

'Two illegal's were bundled into a van yesterday. Probably working in the kitchens,' Charley added.

'These were going in the wrong direction,' Bob pointed out.

'Maybe they owe money to the casino,' Charley said.

'That's a casino? Should of guessed you wouldn't be far from one,' Bob laughed. 

'They both had long blond hair,' Bob shrugged.

'So?' 

'Elizabeth has short hair,' Bob explained.

'Oh,' Charley said, which seemed to be the end of their conversation. They had nothing in common, despite being brothers. 

Time went on for several heart beats, until Charley asked, 'Who's Jane?'

'She's moved in with me,' Bob stated, not intending to add more. 

His brother wasn't interested anyway, he was just trying to make contact while they were together. 

'I'm off in a couple of days, doc says I can go,' Bob threw in.

'Good, I mean good for you. I'm OK. Out in a few of days myself,' Charley gruffly added to the pot of emotion. The pot still looked paltry, hardly worth playing for.

***

They hadn't been driving, yet they were tired from a day and a half being jiggled around on a thin mattress. Sweaty and dishevelled, they stood before a man sitting behind a large desk.

He pointed at Jane, and said, 'I bought you, who's this?' 

'I'm Elizabeth, and I understand English perfectly well,' she rudely spoke, pronouncing every word slowly, as though he were a foreigner, or a simpleton.

'Thanks! I'm from New York, so maybe you should speak clearly,' he jibbed. 

He looked fiercely at them, and Elizabeth looked evilly back at him. Eventually he laughed silently, with just the lifting of his shoulders, and his eyes showing humour.

'You must be tired. A penthouse suite is available so you can use that. Get some sleep, and I'll see you later,' he stated. 

A woman showed them out of the office, along a corridor, to an elevator. They stepped into a luxurious room, eyes roving everywhere, then stared at each other with pleasure. 

'Enjoy! I suggest you get some sleep. You'll be working as waitresses later,' the woman said.

They turned to look at her, only to see the elevator doors close. 

'We should do as we're told,' Jane said.

'We need to look for a means of escape,' Elizabeth retorted. 

She toured the suite, distracted from her mission by the facilities. A bar, huge bathroom, a bedroom with an enormous bed, and a lounge with two large sofa's. Even the television was huge. There was no way they could jump from a window, as there were over ten floors to the ground. There was an escape door, that probably led to stairs. It was locked. 

'You look happy with the gilded cage!' Elizabeth grumbled.

'It's fabulous, what's not to like?' she said.

'It's still a cage. We need to find a way out, for when we need to escape,' Elizabeth reminded her.

Jane was wondering if she wanted to escape. For her it wasn't so much escaping from anything, as returning to another master. She missed Bob, but this was another adventure, maybe more thrilling. The view toward the strip was fabulous. All those lights! This wasn't a main hotel on the strip, but it was the best hotel room she could have imagined.

'Look at these, Lizzie!' Jane exclaimed.

She was pointing at all the cosmetics, soaps and smelly things in the bathroom. 

'Nice,' Elizabeth drily commented. 'We had best get some sleep. We can think things through better after a rest,' Elizabeth told Jane.

She noticed Jane wasn't deferring to her. She had a new master, so she was prepared to obey him, and fit into a new regime. Elizabeth was jealous though too tired to make it an issue. The new starched sheets were too tempting. They slid between them, and were soon in a deep dreamless asleep.

***

'Come on you two, get up!' Diane ordered.

The two slaves got out of bed, Elizabeth reluctantly, and Jane eagerly. They pulled on the clothes from home, wondering what was to happen to them. Elizabeth was keen to find a way out of the place, so keenly noted their route through the building. 

Descending in the elevator, she noted there were no floor buttons, just a key turned to different settings. They walked along the same corridor, back to that man's office.

'Sit there,' Diane told Elizabeth. 

She guided Jane into the office, shut the door behind her, and stood with arms folded, seemingly guarding Elizabeth. Neither of them spoke. Elizabeth was saving her vitriol for that man.

Jane stood before her new owner with head bowed, feeling once more like an owned object, ready to obey. This was her new master. She had been bought and paid for, so she could do nothing but meekly submit to him. 

'Hello, Jane, how are you after your long journey?' Alex asked.

'Your slave is well, thank you master,' she courteously answered.

'I hope you will fit in here, and enjoy your new life,' he said.

'You're slave is ready to obey her master, and serve master's desires,' she said.

'Let me look at you,' he said, meaning for her to look at him.

Jane reached for the hem, and swiftly lifted it over her head. She dropped it on the floor, slipped the panties off, and undid the bra. She stood naked before her new master, waiting for his approval. 

Alex closed his gaping mouth, astonished at her reaction. He recognised how deeply committed a slave she was. He wondered what had been done, to make her so subservient. A flash of anger burned him. To calm himself he concentrated on her beauty. 

'You are an extremely beautiful woman, my dear,' he said, after calming down.

'Thank you master,' Jane breathily said. 'Your slave is grateful for masters approval,' she added.

'You may get dressed,' he told her. Watching her dress was more fascinating than when she undressed.

'How many masters have you had?' he asked.

'Five masters, and three mistresses, master,' Jane said.

'How did they acquire you,' he continued.

'Your slave has been auctioned, purchased in a store, sold to another master, simply mastered by a man, and won in a card game, master,' Jane said. 

She felt humble from being passed around like an object to be used. She had a feeling that this was a lucky break again. It looked as though this master would also look after her, and treat her well.

He was amazed at such a life, and that she was accepting it. How could an attractive woman, anyone, completely bend to others orders. It was no wonder she was so deeply into believing she was a slave. He had better get the interviews over with, as there was plenty to do. He dismissed the woman, and pressed the intercom. The signal heralded the supervisor, who shoved Elizabeth in.

'Your name is Elizabeth?' Alex asked.

'Yes!' Elizabeth hissed.

'What's wrong?' he asked. It was easy to guess, but had to hear it from her.

'I want to go back to, err, back to my master. You didn't buy me, so you must have kidnapped me,' she complained. Not revealing who she was, or her circumstances, seemed the best strategy for the moment. 

'How do you know I didn't buy you?' he challenged.

'My, err, master, wouldn't sell me,' she pointed out.

'I admit it was an unexpected bonus to receive you. However, you are here now. I had two blonds' lined up for the waitress jobs, though now you are here, you two can fill them,' he firmly stated.

'Waitress, is that what you call it?' she retorted.

'I call it that, as that is what it is. Serving drinks, snacks, and meals from a bar, to guests. They are gaming in an exclusive private room, mostly cards,' he explained.

'Oh. Well, I want to go home, I mean, back to my master,' she defiantly stated.

'Where would you go, if I set you free?' he asked, sounding her out.

This was unexpected, so she thought about it, in case there was an unforeseen catch. She remembered what Jane had told her about having nowhere to go. 




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 13



'Back home of course, to my, err, master. I have nowhere else to go,' she said. 

'It's true, I didn't buy you, just the other slave,' he said. 

She watched him deep in thought, deciding what to do with her. It was infuriating having someone decide where and what she would do next. The man hadn't bought Jane, as her father would never have sold her. It was important to get away from here, and tell her father where Jane was being held. 

'You may go anytime you wish. I need two servers in the private rooms, not one, so I'll bring the other two in,' he said, half to himself. 'I'll have to sell Jane, and get my money back,' he quietly added. 

'Sell her, who to?' she asked. She was worried they wouldn't be able to find her, once sold. 

'There's a brothel outside of town, I should get a good price for a willing and attractive woman,' he said. 

'Did you bring anything with you? I guess not. I'll get you a ticket home. In the meantime you best return to the room. There's plenty to amuse you while you wait,' he said, and dismissed her. 

'Wait! I can't leave Jane. She needs me,' Elizabeth said.

'If you want to stay, that's fine, but you have to commit to it. It's no good you deciding to leave after training, and gaining experience. You decide to stay, then you stay for six months. Go to your room and think it over, I'll see you later,' he said.

'No! I'll stay. Working as a waitress, you said,' Jane needed confirmation.

'That's right. Diane will train you. Above all else, don't upset the customers. They pay a lot to make use of the club room. The casino takes a percentage of the winnings too. Don't fuck up business, or else,' he fiercely spoke.

Elizabeth figured the, or else, meant being sold into a brothel. That would have to be avoided at all costs. It looked as though she was going to be an obedient slave after all.

As soon as he dismissed her, with a wave of his hand, the same woman opened the door and pulled her out. Elizabeth was in a funk. She hadn't gained much at all. If she got out of here, to tell her father, Jane would be working in a brothel. How could she let that happen!

The woman took them to a changing room, and faced them both.

'I'm Diane. I'll be training you as waitresses in our exclusive club room. The rich and famous, well, nearly famous, play cards, backgammon, and other games. They eat and drink for free. That's your job, to keep them fed and watered. The casino takes a percentage of the winnings, and they pay a membership fee,' she told them, looking from one to the other.

Jane was taking it all in, with a smile, whereas Elizabeth wore a perpetual scowl. She was about to tell the woman not to bother, as she didn't intend staying long. Looking at Jane's eagerness to serve, decided her to go along with it. Besides, there might be a way out for both of them.

'You'll soon get the hang of it. Cocktails will be made by Julie, food and snacks come up from the hotel kitchens, so all we have to do is fetch and carry for our lords, and masters. Like being a wife,' she drolly stated.

'Any questions? Then we can change into the outfits. To keep the guests happy, we have a random system of choosing what to wear. Silly idea, but it's become a tradition,' she said, and picked up a hat from a locker. 

'Traditional, eh!' she laughed.

'Here, you choose, happy. Go on, pick a paper out of the hat. What's it say?' she asked.

Elizabeth hadn't been listening and wondered what she had missed. Looking confused she read the piece of paper, 'Ra Ra skirt?'

'It could have been worse. Come on, let's see what we have in your sizes,' Diane said.

'You'll have to be careful with that top, or everything will fall out,' Diane told Jane.

'You look good,' she told Elizabeth. 'I'm too old for this,' she added.

'You look nice, ma'am,' Jane said.

'Thanks,' Diane drily said.

Elizabeth was about to complain, but held back. Once in the casino there was sure to be a way of escaping. It had already occurred to her that was only half the battle. Once out, they would need cash to escape back home. In a casino there was money a plenty, so she had to find a way of getting her hands on some.

'What about tips?' she asked.

'Didn't I mention that? The club customers give generously. That's why I transferred here from the main floor. Men give more when we wear these ridiculous outfits,' she laughed. 'Women do sometimes,' she smirked.

She looked over the two new waitresses, and wondered if they would make it through the first night. It could be rough, having to be on your feet until the early hours of the morning, but the pay was good.

Jane was eager to get started. Elizabeth was a coy over displaying herself in the little outfit she wore, even though Jane was showing off more of her body. The short flared skirts swished around their upper thighs as they walked. However carefully they moved, the tiny thongs were exposed. 

At least Elizabeth's bust was under control in the skimpy top, unlike Jane's large breasts, which tended to show around hers. If she wasn't careful when stretching upward, it would ride up and expose them. Diane wasn't covered any better, though she had plenty of practice in countering wandering hands, with dignity and diplomacy. 

'Don't forget the rules. The members can touch you, unlike the main casino waitresses, but within reason,' Diane warned them. 

She didn't detail what, within reason, meant. They would learn soon enough. In the meantime, her percentage of the tips would be greater, from guests being pleased with new meat.

'Come on, stop pulling at the hem, it won't stretch,' Diane shot at Elizabeth. 'Before the patrons arrive, I'll show you around and fill you in on what to do.'

They stepped into the club, and were astonished. The room was resplendent, expensively decorated, and hushed. A clink of glasses from a bar was the only sound. It would come alive with the sounds of conversation soon.

'We'll start at the bar, and work our way around the tables. You'll each be assigned a section, looking after several tables,' Diane explained.

Jane was mesmerised by the opulence surrounding her. Elizabeth cynically observed there were no clocks, or windows to reveal the passing of time. Needing to earn tips, to build an escape fund, she was for once keen to get started. Both women thought of it as an exciting adventure.



Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 14



The Casino

Bob was discharged from hospital, more from wanting to go home than being fully fit. He was a tough old guy, and was worried about Jane and his daughter. He had rung home several times, without a reply.

The flight and taxi ride home went without a hitch. His car was in the car port so he assumed they were home, safely tucked up in bed. It was too late to disturb them, so he quietly crawled into bed and soon fell asleep.

***

Jane and Elizabeth followed Diane to the bar.

'These are the two new waitresses. Libby, Elizabeth and Jane,' she said. 

Libby nodded and smiled at them, and carried on emptying packets of peanuts into glass bowls. Jane smiled back, while Elizabeth glanced around the room. It was divided into booths with baize tables, for playing cards. The whole atmosphere was discreet and opulent. There were no clocks or windows, to indicate time of day. More importantly there were no exits, besides the elevator, and a fire door next to the bar.

Diane showed them around. The sound of an elevator pinging interrupted an off the cuff training program. Two old men ambled into the room. Elizabeth noted there was a guard operating the elevator. He too had a key, as there were no buttons. If he wasn't there, they would be stuck. She determined to steal one of those keys, and hoped one fit all. 

'Hello, Mr Kelley, Mr Franklin,' Diane smiled at them

'Hi Diane, I feel lucky tonight. Who's the two new ones?' Mr Kelley asked.

'This is Jane, and Lizzie,' she said.

'Well, Jane, Diane knows our poison, and where we sit,' he briskly said, and made his way to a side alcove.

'They drink whiskey sours, and always sit over there, playing backgammon,' Diane said.

Jane nervously served them drinks, trying her best not to spill them. 'May I be of further assistance, sirs,' she respectfully asked.

They both sipped the drinks and sat back to look her over. 'Thank you, Jane. Just come back occasionally with a refill. Don't worry sweet thing, you'll soon get the hang of it,' Mr Kelley said.

Elizabeth kept a careful look out for Jane, and was relieved when she walked back to the bar. She also felt a shiver of excitement from being so exposed. The older two gentlemen showed little interest, though other guests boldly looked her over, increasing the thrill.

Standing before four men, with little covering her body, made her uneasy. 'How may I serve you this evening, sirs?' she asked. 

The skirt was so short, the hem ended above the table level. Conscious of exposing her bare bottom when bending, she stood straight and still. She was relieved when they gave their orders, without a fuss, releasing her to walk back to the bar. The place was filling up, and they had to work quickly. Becoming used to the outfit let Elizabeth relax and get on with the job. 

She bent over a table to pass a drink across, only then realising the mistake. She felt the skirt ride up to reveal her bottom.

'Very nice, Lizzie,' a man said. 

She was bending between two seated men, and one of them ran his hand up an inner thigh. When she didn't protest the one to her left did the same. Their hands slid higher, and still she couldn't move away, or even say a word of disapproval. The sexual tension had been rising unnoticed by her while busy, and now she needed to exert control, she was lost in a tumult of arousal. 

Elizabeth scanned the room for Diane, hoping for a rescue. Was this against the rules? Remembering Diane's instructions brought home how nebulous they were. What did, "within reason". mean? Should she draw the line when these two guys tried to finger fuck her? The body was imploring her to give in, while she agonised over what they were doing to her.

They each had a bare cheek, gently massaging it. Just standing between them, tingling all over, she couldn't avoid the others faces. They were smiling at her, recognising how much she was enjoying it. Wanting to tell them off for taking advantage, and not being able to, was frustrating. 

'Having fun guys? Who's winning?' Diane asked. 

The two hands slipped from her body, and Elizabeth sighed with relief. 

'You need to get around more quickly, Lizzie,' Diane quietly said, letting the guys hear the admonishment.

'Sorry, Diane, I shouldn't have let them. . .' Elizabeth hesitantly spoke.

'No problem. I saw you needed help. You can let them pump your buns, for luck, as they call it. Maybe even accidently touch your breasts, but you need to keep yourself under control. Learn some set phrases, like, you're going to tip well, or do you feel lucky now, or whatever. Look them in the eye, letting them know that's your limit,' Diane advised.

'What is the limit?' Elizabeth asked, sounding worried.

'That's up to you. Having sex is taboo, and they all know that. You'll be thrown out,' Diane firmly stated. 

'What if they try and finger me?' Elizabeth asked, thinking how vulnerable and compliant Jane was.

'As long as you don't mind, and its discreet, and it earns a big tip, go for it,' Diane chortled. She was thinking of her twenty percent of the tips.

Elizabeth looked shocked. At least it was her choice, but she would have to keep an eye on Jane. At least she had learnt of a way out of this place. If they were both taken over a games table, they would be free. She would have to be desperate to try that. Though, what a way to go, with a bang!

Serving at the tables, she found most were more interested in gambling than her. The guests were too used to scantily dressed servers to bother with them. Back again at the table where she had been molested, she again bent across the table to hand over a drink. She was waiting for it this time.

'Such a nice bottom will bring me luck,' the guest predictably said.

'I hope you win, sir, and give me a good tip,' she smiled. 

The handsome older man added to the building arousal, by gently caressing her bottom. Elizabeth realised this place was bringing out an un-guessed at desire, to flaunt her body to strangers. This safe environment brought out an exhibitionist streak, she hadn't been aware of. A cheek was cupped in the palm of his hand, yet here, amongst these wealthy men, it seemed acceptable. Everyone around the table knew what he was up to, yet none of them took the slightest interest. 

When she straightened up, his fingers were caught between both cheeks. Was this accidental, or did he plan it that way? Knowing it was against the rules to complain, and that she should find a way to handle him, she stood thinking what to do.

She looked at him, and he looked up at her. 'Don't you need both hands to play?' she smiled. 

'Stay where you are, until I win this hand,' he smiled back at her.

She felt him curl his fingers, pulling the string from between her cheeks. What could she say now? A finger sensually circled her asshole. The touch was so light it could have been in her imagination, yet it thrilled her whole body. Both nipples were growing large, clearly visible through the thin top. The betting was intense, with the four of them concentrating on the next card to be turned.

It was almost insulting to be turned on with so little regard over what was happening. Not that she wanted the others to join in, or applaud him fingering her. If he went any further, she would have to pull away, despite the panty crotch being wrapped around his fingers. With or without panties, she would have to move. The longer she stood there, enjoying this public molestation, the more difficult it was to stop him. Her mouth had dried up, and her legs felt weak at the knees. 

What if she had a noisy orgasm, right here among these strangers? Would they take notice of her then? A plaintive noise escaped her lips, on realising she wanted their attention. She wanted everyone to know this man was fingering her, and that she was letting him. Thinking of herself as a dirty little tramp, was exciting her all the more.

The last card was about to be turned from the pack. He picked up his cards to glance at them, then turned them face down again. Another of his fingers probed her wet pussy. The most disconcerting thing was finding how wet and open she was, rather than the fact he was fingering her. He found her clit, and she rose up on tiptoe. He pushed again, and a finger entered her ass, with another pushing further into her vagina. 

Elizabeth only just held back from gasping. She was in a large opulent room, packed with wealthy strangers, being finger fucked! There was no way she could walk away from him now. He had a grip on her crotch, fixing her to the spot. It was tempting to ask him out loud, to remove his fingers from her pussy and ass. Would it shock those seated around this table? She figured it might encourage others to try it on, from them all wanting a piece of the action.

With a big grin on his face he turned his cards over, to display a winning hand. Groans a guffaws travelled around the table. Among friends the banter and ribald comments were personal, and mostly unmeant. 

'Let me give you a big kiss, and a big tip,' he laughed. 

Elizabeth bent over revealing the grip on her crotch, to the man sitting behind her. She offered a cheek, but he gripped her face and kissed her mouth, invading her body there as well. Both hands let her go, and he cleaned them on a wet-wipe. 

He left her panties awry, so she had to walk to the bar with everything uncovered. It was strange not daring to fiddle with her panties, whereas she had just stood there, letting a stranger fiddle with her naughty bits. Going behind the bar, she pulled her panties into place, feeling how soaking wet they were.

'You've been enjoying yourself then,' Libby commented.

'I didn't know what to do,' she pathetically said.

'He'd better hand over a big tip, after finger fucking you,' Libby said.

Jane moved around a table set in a discreet corner, with shrubbery giving it an added sense of seclusion. The last man to take his drink looked up at her, and winked. Before she could move on, he put a hand up the skirt, and pulled the panty crotch to one side. Without hesitation a finger entered her. His thumb found her bud, and rubbed it while sawing into her with one finger then another. 

She was shocked, yet said nothing. She hadn't been ready for this, or expected anything so blatant. In a daze she stood still, letting a complete stranger fiddle with her naughty bits. The astonishment showed on her face. 

These were important guests, and she was a mere slave-girl. Of course she should have been ready for these men to use her. It was their right, and her rightful position to be used, as a mere object. Being used to gratify a man's desire was her role in life. Jane patiently stood with legs apart, while the stranger fiddled with her bits. Mark could have taught him a better technique. 

The man on her other side, beckoned to her with a waggling finger. She leaned over to him, giving the man behind her more room to play. The man she was leaning forward to, didn't want to tell her something. Instead he groped her breasts. He squeezed the edges of the top together, and her breasts fell out the sides. He kissed a nipple and gripped the other breast in a hand. 

Between them they worked her hard, squeezing, sucking, probing, and thrusting. 

'Look out you two, Diane is on the way,' one of the others said. 

The two molesters let her go, and helped pull her clothes together.

'Are you finished with me now, sirs?' Jane asked. 

The six men at the table looked at her, only to see a sincere expression rather than the expected sarcasm. It was disconcerting, yet at the same time it was encouraging. 

'Come back when you can, with another round of drinks,' one of them said. The cards were dealt, so they carried on playing.

'That one's a dumb blonde, and a slut, to let you two play with her like that,' Michael laughed at two of the players.

'Wait till she gets back, and we'll see how far we can go,' Anton proposed.

'Just so long as Diane doesn't catch you,' Nigel warned.

Janet made her way among the tables, back to the bar, only stopping to pick up another drinks order. Being molested by two strangers, in front of those other men, was demeaning. They didn't know she was just a slave, and had tried it on. Unable to complain, they went further every time she served them. Just now they had fingered her and pawed her breasts. What was next?

'Look after the tables here for awhile, I'll deal with the corner table,' Diane said.

Jane was relieved. Being taken advantage of hadn't excited her, it was just awful. It was totally different when a master, or mistress, touched her. It was expected and anticipated, all part of a stimulating game.

***

Elizabeth and Jane got back to their penthouse suite, with dawn beginning to stream over the horizon. The view across the city was breathtaking. Coloured lights sparkled across the vista, highlighted with a muted dawn light. The two women gazed through the picture windows, too tired to talk. Jane was happy from surviving the night. Elizabeth was excited from flaunting her body to strangers, and was beginning to accept she was an exhibitionist.

They slept until midday with hunger and thirst prising them out of bed. A hot ready meal was snatched from the microwave, and dumped on the table. The next ping would announce Jane's lunch.

'This is not cooking,' Jane complained. 

'If you don't like it, call room service, they'll send up something,' Elizabeth said, around a mouthful of gloop. 

'I've got a plan. We collect our tips and use them to get back home. In the meantime we need to get an elevator key,' Elizabeth said.

'For both of us?' Jane asked. She was looking at the plastic meal in disgust.

'Of course. I can't leave you here,' Elizabeth said.

'Why not? My master bought me, and set me to work here. This place is nice, and the job is exciting,' Jane stated.

'Mmm, it is exciting,' she murmured. 'There's no telling what he might do with you, if I leave without you. You'll have to come home with me. I recon this guy had us kidnapped. I'm sure dad wouldn't have sold you,' Jane explained.

'I thought I was sold to pay his brother's medical bills,' Jane said, finally pushing the plastic looking food away.

'If you're not going to eat that, I'll have it. If he did, he would have phoned me, and sure as hell he would have warned you. They didn't know I was there,' Elizabeth began, then realised it didn't prove anything. 'I guess the two dumb hoodlums were working on an instruction to pick you up, ' Elizabeth said, with a shrug of her shoulders.

'We're here now. We both enjoyed it last night. Let's just see how it goes,' Jane encouraged. As a slave she didn't want to upset her master, and end up receiving a punishment. 

Elizabeth got under a hot shower, wondering if she dare tell Jane her plans. The woman had convinced herself she was a slave, and might report an escape attempt to the master. Their master didn't seem all that nice, or interested in them much. 

'Damn! She's got me thinking of myself as a slave, and that's so dangerous,' Elizabeth said to herself. 'If the idea of being a slave got a hold of me, like it had with Jane, I could end up spending the rest of my life as a slave!' she murmured. 

She climbed out of the shower, dried, and sat on the edge of the bed. She wondered how her father was doing, and if he was out of hospital yet.

***

Bob rang Margaret's doorbell, and was relieved to find her in. 'I've lost them!' he said, sounding agitated.

'You've lost what? What?' Margaret asked, as he barged past into the lounge.

'The girls. I came back late, a couple of days ago. They didn't leave a message, and haven't phoned,' Bob explained, becoming more agitated.

'I take it you mean Jane, and who else?' Margaret asked.

'My daughter, Elizabeth. They've been kidnapped!' he shouted at her, intending the raised voice to make her understand.

'Keep calm! You were away, and when you returned, they were gone. Were there signs of a struggle?' she said.

He thought about it, and looked curious, saying, 'The beds were made, and the washing up was done. Four cups!' he said.

'That would have been Jane, tidying up. Maybe friends of your daughter came around, and they went off with them,' she offered.

'Why didn't she leave a note? Why hasn't she phoned?' Bob angrily returned.

'Don't get angry with me! No ransom note means they haven't been kidnapped,' she told him.

'Maybe your right. What if they thought Jane was a real slave, and arranged for someone to kidnap her?' he proffered. 

'Is that what you've been thinking? Elizabeth would have put up a fight,' she said.

'Mmm, yea! I guess,' he said.

'You don't sound convinced. Maybe Elizabeth went with her, going along with it to protect her,' Margaret mused.

'I thought of that. I told her to look after Jane. Maybe that's what she's doing,' Bob said. 'If they have been taken as slaves, that would explain why they haven't contacted me,' he sighed.

'Do people really keep slaves nowadays? How can that be possible?' Margaret asked.

'You did. You auctioned her, and I bought her,' he pointed out.

'That was different. We were only playing a game,' Margaret said, trying to excuse herself.

'Jane would go along with whatever they said. She's been very passive recently. You're right though. There's no sign of a struggle. Lizzie would have pulled the place down,' he said.

'There must be a simple explanation. Maybe Lizzie is having too good a time to phone her dad,' she offered. 'Give it a couple more days,' she said, and refilled his glass. 

After he left she decided to start the ball rolling. There was no need to upset Bob over his daughter, by telling him she was getting an investigator on the case. She too felt responsible for Jane. After all, it was she who started this farce in the first place.

'Hi Tommy. Yea, I'm fine. I've got a job for you, you got a couple of days?'

***

'How did they get on last night?' Alex asked.

'Alright, they survived without upsetting the guests,' Diane answered. 

'How's Elizabeth behaving?' he wanted to know. 

'Bit of a handful at first, then in the club she settled down. Recon' she's enjoying it. Showing off in the outfit, I mean. It was a sort of cheerleader outfit last night,' she added.

'Jane is a funny one. Does as she's told, though, needs watching, otherwise she'll get into trouble with the guests. Not that she'll upset them, more likely to do what they want and go too far, if you know what I mean,' Diane said.

'I trust your judgment. You'll need more help at the weekend, so I've arranged for a couple of servers from the main floor to help out. From Friday OK?' he offered.

'Friday should be OK without them. The big fight is on, so most will be watching the screens in the green room. Only a few in the guest room. So, what's with these two?' she had to ask.

Alex hummed and cleared his throat for a bit, but she wouldn't give ground. 'I guess you ought to know. Some louse was keeping them as slaves,' he said.

'What? That's not possible, is it?' she exhaled. 'They weren't stringing you a line were they? You're too soft. Any pretty woman can string you a line,' she accused.

'No. It's for real. No money, no job, debts to pay, so they were stuck. He paid their debts, and kept them in food, lodging, clothing, and everything else. If they leave here they have nowhere to go, except back there as slaves. Don't look at me like that. They're earning their way, working in the club room. When they have enough saved, they can go wherever they please,' he explained.

'So that's why you want them kept in the penthouse. You think they'll leave here and go back? That's crazy. Who would want to be a slave?' Diane said. 'So that's why Jane is the way she is. All submissive and compliant, with yes, ma'am, no, ma'am, all the time,' she mused.




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 14



'Elizabeth probably wasn't brow beaten down into submission - yet. Given time she might have turned out like the other one,' he said, looking angry.

'OK! This time you did good,' Diane grimaced. 

'Thanks for your vote of confidence,' he smiled back at her. 'Just keep an eye on them will you, and let me know if you need anything,' Alex said, indicating that was it.

***

Working at night upset their body rhythm, so they did little after getting up, and having a late breakfast. Elizabeth watched a couple of films, while Jane cleaned and tidied the rooms. It didn't seem long before they were summoned to the changing room for another shift.

'You did well last night. Good tips, so keep it up,' Diane told them both. 'Your turn to select an outfit,' Diane told Jane.

She unfolded the piece of paper and read it out, 'Leather?'

'That's good, we'll be completely covered,' Diane commented.

It was difficult getting into the gear, but eventually they emerged from the walk-in closet.

'I didn't think anyone could get into that outfit. You look devastating,' Diane enviously informed Jane. The latex one-piece enhanced the look of Jane's breasts, holding them up and out, like large balloons.

The clear latex, one-piece outfit, covered her from neck to feet. As her waist had been slimmed by wearing corsets, Jane was able to squeeze in, with help. It was skin tight, showing off her entire body. The tight latex held her breasts up, pushing them straight out. They looked like huge balloons over the tiny pinched waist. Her face was held up by stiff plastic under the chin. 

Elizabeth was wearing a similar outfit in tight red, shiny leather. Her bottom was on show, which fascinated her. She kept turning her back to a mirror, and looking over her shoulder at a bare ass. Her head was held up by a stiff leather collar around her neck.

She was a little disappointed that Jane was rudely showing off her pussy, whereas hers was covered. Her nipples were bare, which also held her attention. They were being squeezed out of the tight leather like toothpaste from a tube. The very thought of serving strangers while dressed like this, was heating her up. Becoming so aroused last night, and being excited now, made her think she was turning out like Jane. Would she end up an uncontrollable slut like her? 

Jane was so easily turned on, and was hot before even entering the private room. 

Diane went for an all in one black leather outfit. It was skin tight, hugging her voluptuous figure. Unlike Jane's it wasn't see through, or baring anything like Elizabeth's lewd attire. Like the others, she could pull the crotch seam apart for a comfort break, which was a practical feature. 

The two women were busy serving and fending off the men. Elizabeth was pleased by the attention, and thrilled from showing off her body to strangers. She forgot all about looking out for Jane. When she met her at the bar, waiting for drinks to be mixed, they both laughed and shared a joke. Elizabeth figured she was alright, as Diane was keeping an eye on them both.

'How may I help you this evening, sir,' Jane asked. 

'Hello, Mrs Marshal,' Nigel said.

Jane was taken aback from being addressed by her name. The guests knew her first name, but that was all. The guests were anonymous strangers, and she hardly took notice of their faces, even when they were touching her up. She glanced at him and looked away. Christ! The young man was a friend of her daughters!

Without thinking she blurted out, 'How did you get in here?'

'I was going to ask you the same thing,' he smiled. 'I used my father's membership card,' he explained.

What was she going to do now? 'Would you like a drink?' she asked, while looking around for an escape route. 

It was too late now. He had recognised her, and was looking her over. She was appallingly conscious of what he was looking at, and the awful way he was looking at it. Her naughty bits were clearly visible through the clear plastic suit. Out of habit as a slave, she stood with her legs apart. 

She wanted to slam her thighs together, only to find her whole body weak with fear. Louise was safely out of the way at University, yet he knew her, her friends, and their parents. If anyone found out about this, the gossip would surely reach her daughter. Returning to the town they grew up in would be impossible. More importantly, how would her daughter react?

'You look very sexy, Mrs Marshal. Fetch me a coke. I want a clear head, so no alcohol,' he said.

'Yes, sir,' she said, choking on the words.

She answered to her name so it was true! Watching her walk to the bar, he couldn't believe this was the tight assed woman he knew from back home. He liked Louise but hated visiting their house, as Jane was such a pain. It was fascinating watching her ass wiggling in the see-through outfit. He'd seen everything, as though she were naked. What in hell was she doing here, dressed like that?

On the way to the bar, she wondered what he meant about keeping a clear head. If he intended to make the most of her embarrassment, she was in trouble. Elizabeth wasn't at the bar. Looking around, she saw her protector was busy with a raucous group of guests playing cards. Diane had slipped out to the rest room, for an illicit cigarette.

Delivering the drink, she wondered if he had chosen this out of the way corner table on purpose. 'May I get you anything else, sir,' she politely asked. 

It was embarrassing treating this young man with the same courtesy and esteem shown to a private guest. He had told her to fetch him a drink, as though she were his personal servant. Last time he called at their house, he was just a kid, and had to behave himself. He had to talk to her politely and with respect, now it was the other way around. 

'Are those big tits real?' he asked. 

This was even more demeaning, leaving her feeling small and insignificant. She was flustered by his audacity, not knowing what to say. So he did select this corner table to pester her. 

'Well? Are they real?' he persisted.

'Yes, sir,' she croaked out. 

Her face felt hot, and the colour spread down her neck, and over her breasts. He was watching her embarrassment, seeing the effect of the rude question upon her body. She took a deep breath, heaving up her breasts, feeling the clear plastic clinging to them. 

Nigel could see she was in turmoil over what to do. He recognised her when he walked in, not really believing it, and had it confirmed when she didn't deny it. After answering such an impolite question, and not making a fuss, he figured she was desperate to keep this dirty secret. 

'You had better get back to serving, or you'll be in trouble. As long as you hurry back to serve me. You don't want to get into trouble, do you, Mrs Marshal?' he said, with a nasty grin on his face.

Taking it as a warning, she hurriedly served the guests, not daring to linger. Fortunately they were engrossed in gambling, not bothering to take much notice of her. The regulars were used to scantily clad women running around serving them.

He watched her hurrying back to him, with an anxious look on her face. He was going to find out how desperate she was to keep the wicked little secret.

'How may I serve you, sir,' she asked. 

What else could she say? At least in this private club there was little he could do to her, or he would be expelled. It occurred to her that she couldn't rely on that, or he would have to explain to his father why his membership had been revoked. The nasty gossip would then start the rounds of their neighbourhood. The little shit had her trapped!

'Come closer. These seem to be detachable,' he said. 

She was transfixed, staring at his fingers pulling at her nipples. A disk of plastic came away from a breast, exposing the areola and nipple. He tweaked the nipple, and pulled it. 

'They grow big and fat, don't they. I'd better release the other one, it looks squashed up in there,' he commented.

She watched helplessly as he pulled the other disk of plastic from her breast. He left them on the table, as though daring her to reach for them. It wasn't much of a problem walking around exposing her nipples to strangers in the club. It was humiliating having this particular young man expose them, and maul them. 

She felt powerless to stop him. He held her gaze with an understanding that his silence had to be earned. The feeling of humiliation was familiar, with the usual result growing stronger. She was already aroused from prancing around in the see-through bodysuit. The disgrace of having a daughters young friend pulling on her nipples, was stoking her up.

'Run along and serve the men. I'm sure you're used to serving men your nipples. Serve me well, and I'll keep your secret,' he smiled at her.

'Yes, sir, thank you sir,' she heavily sighed. 

The shit knew how fearful of being found out she was, and was prepared to use this power over her. He was ordering her about as though he were a master, and she couldn't help responding. She quickly made the rounds of other tables, making short work of taking their drink orders. They seemed happy enough to take in the sight of a naked woman, and merely commenting on her breasts, and nipples.

At the bar Diane and Jane waited for cocktails to be fixed. 'Your very animated this evening, keeping your tables served,' Diane commented.

'Yes mistress, thank you mistress,' Jane nervously said.

'There's no need to compete with Lizzie. Your nipples are out,' she pointedly stated.

'Sorry, mistress. The covers fell off,' Jane lied.

'Never mind. They are certainly an eye full,' Diane said, and walked off with a tray of drinks.

Jane served the drinks, on her way back to her tormentor. He was waiting for her with a devilish grin. She wondered what he was going to do to her next. She bent over the table laying out a couple of dishes filled with nibbles. He reached up and tweaked her nipples.

'Big rubbery things aren't they, Mrs Marshal,' he commented.

'Yes, sir, thank you sir,' she hesitantly agreed.

His hand went down to her crotch and scratched her pussy through the plastic with a finger nail. Over her sensitive, flowering lips, the touch was intensely felt. The outfits' crotch pulled tight between her lips, and cheeks, showing off everything. She could feel the clear plastic crudely separating her pumped up lips.

'Your lips are very fleshy, and still growing. There's not a lot of room in there,' he commented.

The casual way this young man was commenting on her sex was humiliating. He was purposely tormenting her, toying with her like a cat with a mouse. She was caught between his paws, on her breasts, and her crotch, playing with her intimately. The young man had reduced her to a poor little mouse, submitting to his toying with her body. He was firing her emotions with anxiety, and arousal. 

She deeply inhaled, hoping it was her imagination. It felt as though a finger had rubbed her clit! 

'I thought so, the seam comes apart,' he laughed. 

Jane thought she was safe from wandering hands in this outfit, even though it showed everything off. He had her nipples to maul, now the brat was playing with her down there! Her body was already smouldering. He was igniting her! A hand was pinching a nipple, and fingers were entering her. If he kept this up, she would noisily orgasm. 

'Please not here! Please sir. Please!' she begged. 

'Are you begging me to make you cum, here in public, Mrs Marshal? You're such a dirty slut, Mrs Marshal,' he laughed.

'Yes! Please, sir,' she groaned.

In a mirror set on the wall behind him, she could see the room full of men. She imagined they were watching her, waiting for her to reach a climax. There was no holding back now! His fingers were working her hard, controlling her, forcing her to make a spectacle of herself.

Jane put a hand over her mouth to suppress a guttural scream. The buzz of conversations around the gaming tables drowned out the orgasmic cry, though she didn't know that. She thought she had advertised her orgasm to all and sundry. He pulled her face close to his. 

'Did you enjoy that Mrs Marshal? You cum in front of a room full of men, you dirty little slut,' he grinned.

'Yes! Thank you master, for making me cum. You made me yours. I'm your dirty little slut, master,' she whimpered.

Nigel didn't know what to say. Where did all that come from? He examined her closely, wondering what she meant.

'I'm your master, so what are you?' he asked, trying not to sound bemused.

'I'm your slave, master,' she said.

He assumed it was something to do with the orgasm, and where they were. Was she playing up to him, desperate to keep him happy? 

Almost running back to the bar, manoeuvring among tables, she tried to keep the state of her thighs a secret. She dare not stop to take an order, or they would see the mess of juices through the clear plastic. All these men would see what she was, nothing but a dirty slut, ready to cum for anyone. 

She imagined the guests helping themselves to her pussy, while she memorised their drinks order. Fingers delving in, rubbing her clit, pinching her nipples, pumping her ass. Her body had been on view, now it was available to anyone who cared to use it.

While Libby filled the order, Jane quickly dived into the staff rest room, to clean herself up. In the see-through outfit her puffy labia was embarrassing. The lips had been glistening with sex juices, evidence of the sordid performance with that young boy. He was only eighteen, yet he had her trapped. 

Once cleaned up she could at least walk through the room with a little confidence. Not much, but she was grasping for a hold onto reason.

Jane quickly took orders from the guests, and was impatiently waiting for Libby . 

'Thank god you're here. Switch this damn thing off will you. Back there, there's a switch somewhere,' Elizabeth pleaded. 

Jane found something between the shoulder blades on Elizabeth's suit, and pressed it.

'It's a vibrator, built into the suit. The guys have been amusing themselves switching the damn thing on,' she explained. 'I've been on the edge of an orgasm, for ages,' she heavily sighed.

'We haven't had proper sex for days. I'm feeling so horny, I'm desperate to cum,' Jane admitted.

'It's all this playing around, it's driving me crazy,' Jane said. 'With that butterfly pressed up tight against my sex, I'm so horny I could jump anyone,' Elizabeth moaned. 'They keep playing with my nipples and squeezing my butt. It's not enough, even with that damn thing in my pants,' she complained.

Jane moved off with a tray, delivering drinks on the way back to Nigel. Calling the young guy her master was a mistake, and she hoped he wouldn't make anything of it. He made her orgasm, whereas her owner hadn't, so in a way it made him her master. The feeling of being owned by him was difficult to shake off.

'How may I help you, sir,' Jane said. She avoided calling him master, only just.

'What will you do for me?' he asked.

'Anything you want, sir,' she replied.

'No longer calling me master, then,' he said.

'Sorry, master,' she automatically replied. 

'So, slave, tell me what you will do for me,' he persisted.

'Anything my master, wishes,' she reluctantly said. 

At least here, she was safe, and he would be gone soon. All he could do was humiliate her. The thought ramped up her arousal. Unfortunately it was patently obvious in the see through outfit.

'Tell me exactly what is on offer to a master,' he demanded.

'My sex, mouth, and asshole, are my masters to play with, master.' she said. 

The words tumbled from her lips, increasing the feeling of disgrace. This young man was a friend of her daughters, and with his parents had visited her home for dinner parties. He should be showing her respect, as an older woman, and a friend of his parents. Any respect due had been blown away when he made her orgasm. She stood before him dressed like a common tramp, and a slut on heat.

'Well, Mrs Marshal, I wonder what the neighbours would say if they saw you now? What would my parents think of you, offering your body to me. They would all think you're a dirty little whore. What are you, Mrs Marshal?' he taunted.

'I'm a dirty little whore, master,' she replied. 

'I'm glad you acknowledge the fact. I want those luscious lips around my cock, Mrs Marshal. What will you do with my cock in your mouth,' he quietly asked.

'Your dirty little whore will suck her master dry, master.' she breathed out heavily. 

Nigel watched her whole body becoming turned on, as he made her talk dirty. She was enjoying every filthy word. She was vibrating with sexual energy. 

'I want to fuck you, Mrs Marshal,' he said.

'Yes, master, please fuck your whore, master,' she groaned. 

There was little she could do to control herself, after becoming so worked up. From past experience she knew anything would be agreed to, once aroused. It was dreadful to be this way with someone she knew. The only excuse was that he had her trapped, desperate for his silence once back home.

'When you finish here, you'll come back to my hotel,' he said.

'Sorry, master, I can't. I'm kept here, as a slave. My owner keeps me locked in a room, in this hotel. Security won't let me leave,' she explained.

It was a surprise to find how painful it was to say it. Blocking his plan should have been a minor triumph, yet she really did want to go with him, and do whatever he wanted. 

He could see how desperate she was, and half believed her. Of course she was putting him off, not wanting to go through with it. Making a sordid offer was one thing, but carrying it through was another. 

'I'll go with you to your room, slave,' he goaded her.

'I'll try, master. There might be a way,' she said. 

How could she be so bad as to collude with this young guy, helping him to fuck her? It was shameful. The way she spoke, the way she felt, and that it was him, made it all so much more distressing. 

'You can go and do your job, slave. Come back to me when you've arranged for me to go to your room,' he smiled. 

'Yes, master, thank you master,' Jane submissively spoke

The small relief from escaping him was tarnished, from knowing he wanted to get into her room, and into her. They didn't have a key to the elevator that went up to their penthouse suite. When they were ready to go a security man would operate it, sending them to their floor. The door would open directly into their rooms, and would go down again, ready to ascend to another suite. 

Opposite the elevator was a staff restroom, and an elevator down to the exit. If she could get him into the staff area, he could hide in there. Distract the security guy, and Nigel could run into the elevator. For an hour or so she wondered why she was planning her own downfall. 

'I need his co-operation. I need him to keep my sordid secret. I need to protect Louise,' she said, to the restroom mirror. 

Her hands gripped a sink with white knuckles, showing how hard she was concentrating. The words were overriding the guilty feeling of needing him. The truth swam around in her head, that she needed a good seeing to.

Nigel hadn't believed her. The idea of being kept there as a slave was preposterous. He remembered hearing his folks talking about her selling up, after going broke. They had wondered how she could afford to send Louise to college. That just meant she was working here, to earn good money. Ok, so she was a wage slave, and obviously security wouldn't allow guests to her room. 

When she explained the plan, he listened. It wasn't as though he would get into trouble if they were caught. If it worked, then he would have a fun night. 

Throughout the evening he dragged up memories of her. Though he hadn't much contact with her, he occasionally visiting with parents, or with friends to see Louise. What he did remember was that she had been a stuck up bitch. Looking at her now, it was hard to believe she had been such a prim and proper woman. 




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 14



He walked close to the staff door, and Jane gave him a nod. He slipped through the door, and into a restroom. It was a female toilet, no urinals. He went into the furthest of three cubicles and stood on the seat. It was like being back in school, waiting to play a trick on someone. The excitement was building. With a raging hard on all evening, he was willing to do anything to get laid. 

Hearing Jane talking to the security guy, he peeped out the door. 

'Where's Lizzie?' Jimmy asked.

'It's taking her ages pulling off that get-up,' Jane giggled. About to get into the elevator she turned toward him, with a large pair of breasts pressing against his chest. 'Oh! Sorry, could you do me a favour?' she asked, trying on her little girl lost demeanour.

'Sure, what is it,' Jimmy said. 

He was tired, wanting to get off shift, and back home to bed. The girls had a rough time this evening, so he was a little forgiving.

'We've run out of vodka, could you get me a glass? I'll hold the door, until you get back,' she promised.

'A glass won't be missed,' he sighed. 'Don't move,' he told her. 

She watched him insert a pass-card into the door leading into the bar. She flapped her hand at Nigel, hastening him into the elevator. He tiptoed across the hard concrete floor. No extra expense for plush carpets was necessary behind the scenes. 

There wasn't anywhere to hide, but he pressed himself up against the side, as though he might become invisible.

She stepped away from the doors to take the glass of vodka, letting the elevator go. The guard had already switched the key to their floor, so the elevator rode up with Nigel inside.

'Thank you, so much,' she said, and kissed the guards cheek goodnight. 

He blushed from the unexpected attention. The girls ran around scantily clad, but he was used to that. Jane was wearing a simple dress, which made her a normal young woman.

He inserted the key, and waited with her until the elevator descended. He pressed the button for her room, and Lizzie jumped in next to her. They blew him kisses as the doors closed. 

***

Nigel stepped out of the elevator into a swish suite. 'Wow!' he exclaimed. 

Hearing the mechanism whirring he decided to get out of the way, and found a bedroom. Hesitant at first, he pulled off his shoes and draped the jacket on a chair back. He grinned widely and shucked the rest of his clothes, and jumped into the huge bed. 

He heard Jane talking to someone and realised there were two of them. 

'Hell!' he whispered. 

What was going on? The penthouse suite was a surprise, and now there were two women. They were giggling, and talking, though he couldn't hear what was being said. Maybe Jane was being kept by a rich man, but then why let her work in the club? Perhaps they played kinky games. He could do that.

'So where is he?' Elizabeth asked. 

Having listened to Jane's hurried explanation, over how she sneaked a man up here, Elizabeth was excited. Sneaking someone up here proved there was a gap in security, and a way out. All they needed was their tips to be paid, and they could flee back home. 

'I'll handle him, there's no need to meet him,' Jane said.

Elizabeth was bouncing with enthusiasm. A man in their bed! Shit! She had been showing off her body to strangers for a few days, and enjoyed every minute. This evening she had been so worked up, she was desperate. 

'OK. Go ahead,' Elizabeth encouraged. 

She bit her nails, feeling nervous. The damn vibrator butterfly left her feeling so horny, she could screw anything with a cock. Her head rocked up on hearing a man's voice in the bedroom. Her whole body shook with pleasure. It was demeaning to be so excited over a stranger being in their bed, and being so excited over it.

'How may I serve you master?' Jane said.

Nigel couldn't speak. He patted the bed instead. Jane didn't need an order, this was an obvious command to do what she craved. She pulled the dress over her head, and wriggled out of the panties. She eagerly slipped into bed, pressing her naked body against him.

Nigel couldn't get out of his head that this was Mrs Marshal, a friends' mother. The once proud, stern woman, was panting for him. He'd finger fucked her to an orgasm, in a public place, and now he was in her bed. Dare he try those dirty things she had offered to do for him. It no longer seemed an empty promise, born from a potential blackmail threat. The woman was hot and desperate.

Having a fit excited young body wanting her, was a reminder of Mark and their adventurous sexual escapades. Her whole body was over sensitive to his touch. She lay flat, letting him kiss her, responding to his tongue with impassioned murmurings. He kissed his way to her breasts. A hand went between her legs. She sighed loudly and lifted her hips. Parting her thighs, she was keenly aware of the broadcast message, that she was ready.

He hesitated over wanting to go down on her pussy, or quickly fuck her. He had teased her and himself all evening to a high pitch of excitement. With a raging hard-on, there was no decision to make, he simply rolled on top of her. Without finesse or care, he thrust into her. 

'Yes! Master, fuck your slave,' Jane yelped.

He needed no encouragement, maybe not even hearing her squeals of delight. Pushing with strong muscular legs, his cock rammed into her. At last she was receiving what was so badly needed. After two weeks without a master, and days of sexual arousal in the club, she needed a good fucking, and was getting it. 

They began to orgasm. He slowed down while spurting sperm deeply into her. She lay supine, gladly feeling him fill her up. She wrapped her arms and legs around his torso, as though squeezing every drop of satisfying sex juice from him. Once sated, he uncoupled from her and slid to her side.

She wrapped her arms around him, and nestled her face on his chest. 'Thank you master, for a wonderful orgasm. You have made me yours now, master,' she murmured. 

He opened his eyes, remembering where he was, and who he was with. He tentatively placed an arm around her, wondering why she called him master. As an acquaintance of his father's, she should be treated with respect. It was a marvel this older woman had allowed him into her bed, and here she was unashamedly grateful. They were naked, and cuddling after a frantic fucking. They had behaved like young lovers, rather than adult and adolescent behaving badly. 

He felt giddy and tired after such a frantic screwing. It was difficult to believe that Mrs Marshal had allowed him into her bed, let alone enthusiastically fuck him. She could no longer be thought of as the prudish mother of a friend. She was a sexy slut, a MILF, and he had fucked her! He lay back wondering how it happened, and what it meant.



Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 15



The Slaves are Rescued

Elizabeth had tried not to hear the sounds of their love making. Jane's keening sounds, and his grunting, were all too clear. Already excited and wound up, her inner tension broke. She had to have a man, and it didn't matter who it was, so long as he satisfied the overwhelming urges. The heavy breathing subsided, and all was quiet. Unable to hold back any longer she ran into the bedroom.

Without hesitating she knelt at the foot of the bed, and wormed her way under the covers. Pushing his legs apart she found his flaccid cock, and boldly sucked it. The familiar taste of Jane's sex juices, together with a stranger's, were sucked into her mouth. She spat the mess onto the sheet, and continued sucking. She cupped his balls in a hand, gently playing with them.

Once started she couldn't stop. For all her worth she stimulated him, needing a functioning organ to fulfil a deep need. Feeling him harden, she renewed the efforts, licking and sucking, even trying to overcome a gag reflex. Partly successful she managed to swallow the head of his cock. A quick rise of her head, a deep draught of air, and she tried again.

Nigel froze on feeling someone burrow under the sheet. Feeling lips engulf his cock and lick it clean heightened his wariness. This was the woman Jane had been talking to earlier. He wondered if they were the same age, or maybe she was even older. Whoever it was, the suction was fierce and enthusiastic, and more than enough to revive him. All he could do was lie back and enjoy it.

Elizabeth was too far gone now to stop. She had been from the moment she entered the bedroom. The past few days exhibiting her body to strangers, and letting them maul it, had her so worked up all inhibitions were abandoned. She scrambled up his body, partly aware this was no old man, he was a strong, muscular young man. All the better to fulfil her need.

With knees either side of him, she lowered her sex upon his penis. The bulbous head squeezed between her lips and entered her vagina.

'Lizzie!' Nigel exclaimed.

Elizabeth's eyes opened wide, and her muscles went rigid. She stared at the man under her. Shit! The recognition was instant. Steve's little brother! She knew Steve in high school, and had a one night stand with him in college, but hadn't seen him in years. The little brother had grown into a man, and she was poised on the end of his cock! 

Nigel recognised her while she was manoeuvring onto him, unable to utter a sound from the astonishment of seeing her here. He knew her well, through his brother. She had hung around with the gang of friends, though she wasn't exactly Steve's girlfriend. In shock, all he could do was say her name, and that was enough to confirm it was her!

Elizabeth wanted to run and hide from an immensely embarrassing situation. She was balanced on the end of his cock, after sucking him down her throat like a cheap whore. It would have been bad enough to use a stranger for her gratification, but she knew Nigel. He had hung around like a younger brother, trying to keep up with his brother's older friends.

It was an agony trying to fight her bodies arousal, and a mind overcome with desire. All she had to do was relax her pose to sink onto his cock. The anticipation of being filled with hardness was tugging at her, difficult to battle. There was no way she was going to overpower the need to be filled. She was stuck there, on the end of his cock, vibrating with lust.

'Fuck your master,' Jane whispered into an ear.

Jane rested a hand upon Elizabeth's shoulder, and gently pushed. It wouldn't have been enough to overcome serious resistance. Elizabeth felt his hardness push up inside her body, painfully aware that she was impaling herself. The weight of her body sank her lower onto him, slowly engulfing his hard cock. The journey seemed to take an age, as inch by inch, her vagina was being taken, being filled with a burning rod.

Deeply imbedded upon his cock, it seemingly filling her entire body, she felt their loins meet. Her head continued downward, looking as though she were deflating. Her face was inches from his. He had a shocked look upon him, probably as much as she had. 

Jane pushed the back of her head, and their lips met. She had opened her legs to him, and now she was opening her mouth. He was taking her there as well. Their tongues entwined like eels thrashing around each other. Elizabeth was desperate to make it right, to be his lover, not just a fuck. They hadn't dated, or talked, but they were kissing. Belatedly doing something normal, as young lovers might, they made a meal of each other.

She heard Jane whisper in his ear. 'Fuck your slave, Master. Fuck your dirty little slut, Master.'

Elizabeth wanted to shout, NO! It wasn't right for this young friend to be fucking her, especially after his brother had. She wasn't his slave, and she certainly wasn't a slut. It had been a mistake and she needed to stop it right now.

She felt him raise his hips. Sitting up, she meant to slide off him before it was too late. How could she let Steve's young brother cum inside her! 

He thrust upward, taking her fully. It was too late now. There was no way she could resist his penetration. His cock was so deep, it was pressing at the entrance of her womb. The meaning of being stuffed hit her hard, and she found it funny. Steve's little brother was really stuffing her full of hard cock. His hips were being heaved by a strong pair of legs. Her breasts were shaking with every upward thrust.

She let loose a groan of pleasure. 'Fuck your slave girl, master! Fuck your dirty little slut, hard, master!' she yelped, imitating Jane. 

Her voice was vibrating along with the sharp hard thrusts. There was no holding back now. Jane pulled Elizabeth's foot, straightening the leg up beside Nigel's ear. The other foot was pulled the other side of his head. The next thrust had Elizabeth yelping pathetically. 

'Oh! God! You're so deep, so deep, keep going, master, please!' Elizabeth moaned.

Jane knew how effective the position was, from when Mark had been experimenting with her. It was humiliating to be used as a young guy's sexual plaything, but she grew to love it. Even the humiliation of being his sex toy became a source of inspiration, firing her up to perform for him. 

Accepting her place as nothing more than a sex object, had her thinking of herself as a slave to his sexual whims. His mother compounded the role of slave, by controlling every moment of her life. Justifying her lowly position in their home, she surrendered to the idea of being their slave. Eventually she couldn't think in any other way, accepting she just a slave.

'Yes! Keep going, master! Please! Fill slave up with masters sperm!' Elizabeth cried out.

Nigel thrust up hard and held his hips high. Deeply imbedded in her, he could feel her vagina pulsing, clenching his cock. Every spurt of cum was felt coursing through the eye of his penis. It had taken awhile this time, but was so much more fulfilling. He slumped back into the bed, exhausted. His body was limp under her, as she slowly deflated upon him. 

Her head lay on his chest, feeling his cock shrink from her clenching vagina. She wrapped her arms around him, holding on tight. At last she felt at peace, sated, freed from the driving force of sexual need. A pleasant afterglow warmed her feelings and her body. Her breathing returned to normal, and she whispered his name. She was surprised to find he was awake. 

'Lizzie,' he quietly said.

'That's me,' she smiled, and stroked his face.

'What happened?' he asked.

'We made glorious love. Well, we just had fantastic sex,' she unashamedly said.

'I mean. Mrs Marshal, you, this place,' he whispered. 'Have I died and gone to heaven?' he asked.

'That good, for you too?' she laughed.

'More so! I can't believe you did that. Pure magic!' he sighed.

'Quiet, she's asleep,' Elizabeth warned.

'Why are you here? Both of you,' he said.

'Long story,' she said. 

The warm feelings toward him softened her up. She simply accepted she had let go all her natural resistance to perform for him. Truthfully it was for her, but a fuck was a fuck.

'Why does she keep calling me master?' he persisted.

'She thinks she's a slave. Don't know entirely, but I think she had a nervous breakdown. After her husband died she ran out of money and was in a bit of a spot. Dad asked me to look after her. These two guys came along saying she had been bought, and were taking her to a new master. I came along to look after her, so here we are,' Elizabeth said. 

The speech tired her out, though it might have been the content that drained her.

'There's a difference between her thinking of herself as a slave, and someone else taking her as one. I don't get it,' he mused.

'Typical of a man. It might not be logical, but it happened. We're both here aren't we? You should know, you fucked us both,' she chuckled. 'Well done that man,' she said, and patted his chest.

'How could I resist two beautiful women. Besides, you didn't give me a choice,' he said, pretending to be put out.

'It was a shock to find it was you,' she said.

'So you were prepared to fuck a stranger? You a slave too?' he asked.

'No need to be like that. I've been under a lot of strain. We can't get away from here, we're prisoners,' she said, in mitigation.

'I was pretty rude to Mrs Marshal,' he said. 

He didn't want to tell her how he finger fucked her in the club, in front of everyone. Not that anyone noticed, but still, it was a bad way to treat a friend of his fathers.

'Did you humiliate her?' she asked.

'Pretty much,' he admitted.

'Don't worry about it, she enjoyed it. Being a slave, and being humiliated, turns her on,' Elisabeth explained.

They heard Jane snore and quietly laughed.

'I still can't believe Mrs Marshal was wearing that outfit, or what we just did,' he marvelled.

'After what you did, you can call her Jane,' she said.

'We need to think of a way to get you out of here. I wouldn't mind being kept here for awhile,' he laughed.

'Having two slave sluts pander to you whims?' she asked.

'That as well,' he returned, and pinched a nipple.

'That's very rude young Nigel, what would your brother say?' she mocked him.

'Go for it probably. Mrs Marshal, Jane, doesn't want anyone to find out about what you're doing here. I guess you don't either,' he stated.

'Right. Best forgotten about,' she said, once more turning serious.

'I can't promise to forget any of this. I won't tell anyone, especially not my brother,' he sincerely spoke.

'Thanks. Are you expecting a reward for that promise?' she asked.

'What?' he murmured.

'You're stroking my pussy,' she said.

'Sorry! I was just thinking about getting both of you out of here,' he said.

'If it helps, carry on,' she grinned.

She fell asleep with his cock in her hand, and his fingers playing with her sex. 

***

Next morning they sat at a table waiting for Jane preparing breakfast. Jane was serving a master, and despite him being so young, she was happy to do so. It had been some time since a man had mastered her, by taking her, and it felt good.

Elizabeth felt awkward having performed so badly with a friends young brother. He was now eighteen, only four years younger than her. Four years had been a big difference when she was eighteen, and going out with his brother. Despite feeling it was inappropriate, a warm glow toward him had her smiling.

Nigel sat in confusion, wondering how to behave toward these two women. It wasn't right to have slept with either one of them, yet he had fucked them both. He should be showing Mrs Marshal respect, as an older woman and friend of his father. Elizabeth had explained that after fucking Jane, she was his slave. Elizabeth was warm and gushing one moment, then looked guilty and withdrawn. He realised he had to tread carefully.

'I'll get you out of here, both of you, I promise,' Nigel said.

'Yes, master,' Jane said, while putting a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. 'We are your slaves now. You will be able to make better use of us when you get us home,' she said.

Elizabeth was about to tell her to speak for herself. Instead, a wave of sympathy for her changed her attitude. 

'Yes, Nigel should be rewarded,' she said, and winked at him. 

She meant the expression to be a shared secret, humouring Jane. Instead she felt he took it to mean she would be his reward. Last night with him was affecting her. Jane was affecting her, with all this talk of being taken and being made his slave. A feeling of wanting to surrender to him, and letting him rescue her, was strong. The events of the last two weeks had been too much for her to handle, and her nerve was stretched to breaking point. 

Discovering she was an exhibitionist had knocked her confidence. When those men looked at her, and complimented her near naked body, it felt exciting. She had wanted more, and was willing to go further each night. No matter that most of the compliments were rude, as they fed a dark side of her personality.

'It's terrible that you were kidnapped, and held as slaves,' Nigel said. 

He was trying to ignore the suggestion of them being his slaves. Elizabeth kept making advances, then looking as though she regretted them. Jane kept reminding him she was his slave, as though he wasn't fitting the role well enough. He watched her go to the bedroom, relieved she was leaving him alone for awhile.

Elizabeth leaned close. 'Do something, she needs reassurance. You did it to her last night, and now she needs to know you care,' she told him.

'What? I'm not sure, what do I say? You told me not to apologise,' he complained, in confusion.

'Don't let her feel you were just using her. Go in there and take charge of her. She thinks you're her master. After doing it to her she's got to think that, to justify what happened,' Elizabeth explained. 

She hadn't really thought it through clearly before telling him. The words just followed themselves one after another, yet they seemed to make sense. 

'I guess there's some logic in there somewhere,' he said. 'In a weird sort of way,' he added.

Not sure what he was going to do, he walked into the bedroom. 

Jane stopped making the bed and stood with head bowed. 'Master?' 

'When did I become your master?' he asked.

'When you took me master, last night, when you fucked me, master,' she hesitantly spoke.

It was demeaning speaking to a young man in such a humble way, using such dirty words. It couldn't be helped. Being a slave for so long had her automatically responding, with no resistance to whatever a master wanted. Nevertheless, it was still humiliating to be so helpless to resist this young man's every whim. 

Nigel sat on the bed, and took a good look at her. This was not the arrogant Mrs Marshal he once knew. He felt rotten over what he had put her through last night, in the club, so had to make amends. Elizabeth had said she need reassurance, and that she needed looking after.

'Come here, slave,' he said, trying to sound firm and assured.

Jane quickly walked to him and kneeled at his feet. He put a hand to her chin, lifting her face to look at her. 

'I promise to get you away from here. I will look after you, and make sure you are safe,' he clearly announced. 

'Thank you master. Your slave promises to obey her master, and be a dutiful slave,' she automatically returned.

This wasn't expected, but he wasn't surprised. In the club he had forced from her some nasty offers, under threat of blackmail. She was now all the more eager to please. Elizabeth mentioned she had a nervous breakdown, which explained why she was acting so bizarrely. To be on the safe side he would play along, as Elizabeth advised. 

He patted the bed and she sat close to him. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. 

'You need looking after, kept safe,' he whispered. 

'Thank you, master. Slave promises to obey her master's every command, with absolute devotion,' she whispered back. 

'You're a beautiful woman,' he said. 

'Slave's body is yours master, to do with as you wish,' she offered.

The closeness, her warmth, and the sincerity of her words engulfed him. He wanted her, and she was available. He kissed her lips, and found them pliant. His tongue explored her mouth, and she responded. They fell back on the bed, pulling at their clothes, not bothering to undress completely. 

He either rolled on top of her, or she pulled him, maybe both happened. They were soon rutting like animals, with grunting and heavy breathing completing the picture. From her throat came a guttural sound that could have been a repeated, Yes! He was grunting like a hog, with every hard shove into her.

He spilled his seed into her, holding still, pumping streams of cum deep inside. She was ready. He triggered her orgasm. She too went rigid, feeling him spasm deep inside, filling her with potent sperm. She was his slave, and her master was breeding with her. It certainly wasn't making love, her master was just taking her, fucking her for his pleasure. That he was taking pleasure from her body pleased her. She was a valuable object, being used, and hoped to remain a useful toy for her master's pleasure.

'Thank you, master. Thank you for making your slave cum, wonderful master,' she sighed, expressing great pleasure.

Elizabeth heard them rutting like wild animals in the bedroom. Last night she had been too carried away to resist, though, this morning she was clear headed, and able to think things through. Nigel's father and brother were both egotistical men, who wanted their own way. Remembering that, had her wondering what Nigel was up to. 

Shit! The whole situation was infuriating. Making snap decisions had gotten her into trouble before, and this was a dire lesson, teaching her to be cautious and practical in future. It was as though they were being kept safely out of the way for their own good. How safe, was debatable. She had been finger fucked and played with by complete strangers. 

The two of them emerged from the bedroom looking dishevelled, with self satisfied smiles on their faces. Was she looking after Jane? It looked as though she was getting what she wanted, though falling deeper into thinking and behaving like a slut slave.

'We need to get you out of here without being seen,' Elizabeth stated. 'We'll try the same in reverse. We'll distract the security guy, and you can slip into the restroom,' she explained.

'What about tonight?' he asked. 

They sat around discussing the security routine, and how the elevators were used after changing out of the lewd uniforms. 

'It will be too late to try anything after you get changed, as all the guests would have gone by then. I'm going to distract the security guy, so it needs to be during the evening,' he pointed out.

'We both need to go together, or one will be missed, then the other won't get away,' Elizabeth added. 

Jane brought around more coffee, not adding much to the conversation. She seemed content to stay. She would have to be watched, in case she held back from escaping. 

'Remember Jane, you're Nigel's slave now. You have to escape with us,' she said.

Nigel looked at them both, wondering if Elizabeth was speaking for herself as well. Would he be whisking away two wiling sex slaves? He could keep them in dad's cabin by the lake. Dad didn't use it anymore, and his brother was away at college. The prospect enthused him with confidence and a determination to free them.

***

Descending in the elevator with the two of them, Nigel slipped into the restroom, waiting to appear after a few guests arrived. In the meantime the two women went through the usual routine of selecting an outfit for the evening.

'Shit!' Diane said. 'We're wearing bunny costumes tonight. It could be worse, I suppose,' she said, with the usual bored expression. 




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 15



The three of them went through racks of outfits to find the right fit. Eventually they walked into the private room of the casino to check everything was in order. The two women were used to being half naked, and got on with checking the tables, to ensure the cleaners had made a thorough job of it.

The three women wore shiny, black satin body suites. 

The suit was tight fitting over Elizabeth's torso, and high cut over the hips, leaving little to cover the crotch. Her breasts bulged over the top, whereas Jane's large breasts looked as though they were about to burst free. White bunny ears, cuffs, a collar with a black bowtie, and a fluffy tail decorated them. It was the tail that bothered Elizabeth. 

'Don't let the guys play with the tails too much, or you'll have a sore asshole,' Diane warned them. 

The butt plug tail fitted snugly, especially as Elizabeth had a virgin ass. She was thinking of it as a last trial of shame. Being told not to let them play with her tail too much, warned her the guests would be fiddling with the damn thing. It was already uncomfortable, while walking around checking her group of tables. She couldn't help adjusting it, trying to find a more comfortable position, which seemed impossible. 

The idea of men playing with her asshole all evening, distracted thoughts about the insignificant piece of material covering her crotch. Like Diane and Jane, she wore black stockings, held up by thin suspenders attached to the outfit. If she hadn't been worrying about her ass, she might have considered the precariousness of the suspenders. As she walked they pulled at the bottom of the body, threatening to expose her lips.

At the bar they waited for the guests to arrive. 'You're not bothered by the tail at all,' Elizabeth said, to Jane. 

'I've worn a butt plug before. Not as a fluffy bunny tail though,' she remarked.

'Why aren't I surprised,' Elizabeth quipped. 

'You're more grumpy than usual, Lizzie, nervous?' Diane asked.

'No, it's this damn tail, that's all,' she admitted, not wanting to give the game away.

She was nervous over the escape attempt, but passed it off as not liking the tail.

'Help Libby behind the bar, until the guests arrive for your tables. Keeping busy helps the nerves,' Diane advised.

Bending and stretching for glasses, and filling optics, reminded her the butt plug was in place. It wasn't so painful now, though very uncomfortable. Lifting a polishing cloth for glasses, she found a security card, and palmed it. Where in hell was she going to hide it. There wasn't much to the outfit, and it was skin tight, so would show wherever she stashed it. 

'I'm just going to the rest room, Libby. Won't be long,' Elizabeth said.

'She seems nervous this evening. Thought she was settling down,' Libby commented to Diane.

'It's these damn butt plugs. She must be sensitive about her ass,' Diane said.

'I sometimes like it that way, just for a change,' Libby said, and wished she hadn't. 

'Tell me more,' Diane grinned.

'Don't start on me!' Libby warned. 'It's Jane you need to keep an eye on. She returns here sometimes, looking as though she's been gang banged,' Libby said, trying to divert Diane from teasing her.

'I know. Just so long as its discreet. The tips have been good, so let's not complain, OK?' Diane warned her.

Libby smiled, having worked the switch.

Elizabeth walked back, looking perky. 

'Just in time, I'm putting those guys on one of your tables,' Diane said.

Elizabeth walked up to the group of men feeling pleased with herself. She had a master key card that could be used in any of the elevators, meaning they could escape. All they had to do now was contact Nigel and they would be away from here. Working in the casino had been an experience, certainly different, and even fun in a kinky way. 

She smiled at the men, settling in for a game of cards. 'How may I serve you this evening, gentlemen?'

The older men treated her with respect, and joked with her, rather than laugh at her. She would miss the excitement, and had to admit, miss flaunting her body to strangers.

Seeing Jane at the bar, she quickly made her way over to join her. 'Tell Nigel to get his car and meet us at the back entrance. We'll be about half an hour. Be ready, for when Diane takes her smoke break,' Elizabeth told Jane. 

She watched Jane make her way over to a corner table and speak to Nigel. Satisfied her instructions were being carried out she continued working. Returning to the tables, delivering drinks, Elizabeth stopped to take orders from a group of rowdy men. 'How may I serve you this evening, gentlemen?' she asked.

'What a cute, fluffy bunny tail,' one of them said, and stroked it. 

'Thank you sir, what would you like to drink?' she pointedly asked, trying to distract him.

The suit was high cut over her hips, thinly covering them, and hid nothing of her bottom. The man sitting next to him stroked her bare ass, which would have excited her, except tonight she had other things on her mind. 

'Look at this, Jim. The tail is up her ass!' he laughed. Jim gave the tail a tug, then a shove. 

She raised up on tip toe, feeling the plug hurt her bottom. 'Oww! Please be careful, sir,' she said, trying not to sound angry. 

Carrying a tray of snacks, meant she couldn't push him away, and in any case, it was usual to endure the guests playing around with her body. As she moved around the table, placing nibbles in front of them, they each had to fiddle with the fluffy bunny tail. Her bottom was sore, yet she said nothing, hoping they would become bored. 

With the tray empty she slid it under an arm, to free up both hands. The last guy hadn't decided what to drink so she stood there waiting, trying to be patient. The man behind her was fascinated by her bare bottom and the tail. The one in front of her was about to give his order when he laughed at her.

'What's this then?' he asked his friends. 

A fingernail scratched between her legs, over an exposed lip. Pulling and pushing at the damn tail, had yanked the crotch awry. Touching her down there was against the rules, though a few daring individuals had chanced it, to the point of finger fucking her some evenings. Diane had advised that if she didn't mind who was doing it, then let them take liberties, to earn extra tips. It was all right for Diane to say that, for she knew how to control the guests, and anyway, her commanding presence quietened them down.

She just stood there like a fool, wondering what to do. She needed to get back to Jane and escape. He had a finger hooked around the narrow piece of cloth that spectacularly failed to cover her sex. A knuckled rubbed against her hardening clitoris, bringing forth a whimper. 

'You like that, Lizzie,' he laughed, and the others joined in. 'Best go the rounds again, to check the orders,' he told her.

'Yes, sir,' she heavily breathed. 

The little piece of material was now pulled completely away from her pussy. Each of them had a fiddle with her bits, and one of them made a good job of it. Her nipples were threatening to pop out the top, showing how excited she had become. They had her wet pussy in hand, so didn't need confirmation. 

Having had their fun with her body, they let her go. Elizabeth staggered back to the bar breathing heavily. She grabbed the bar with both hands, and gasped out the order.

'Had a heavy time then,' Libby commented. 

She watched the woman run a finger through the crotch, pulling it back into place. The material was too wet and sticky to do its job, having rolled into a tight wad, so Elizabeth gave up trying to cover her sex. While wiping her hands, Jane came back to stand close to her.

'My ass is sore, is yours?' Elizabeth asked.

'They played with the tail you mean. I'm fine with it. You look hot and bothered, are they giving you a hard time?' Jane asked.

'Yes. I nearly cum over there. The bastards were fingering me, and messing with my ass,' she complained. 

'Do what I do, just go with it. I cum once this evening, and I guess it won't be the last either,' Jane said, sounding pleased with herself.

'You're so laid back, it's unbelievable. Can they do anything to you that you'd complain about?' Elizabeth asked.

'Don't think so?' Jane shrugged.

'She's just a slut. Nothing wrong with enjoying yourself, Lizzie,' Libby laughed. 

The crotch of Jane's outfit was soaking wet, hardly covering her sex, leaving her exposed like Elizabeth. She just stood there not caring how available she was. She enjoyed the attention. Having strangers maul her body was expected. After all, she was just a slave, and her master had made her available to his guests, to be played with. She thought Elizabeth was being prissy, as she was up for naughtiness when it suited her.

Returning to the bar, Elizabeth grabbed Jane's arm. 'Hang around a moment, Diane is going for a smoke break. Go to the rest room and wait for me,' Elizabeth whispered.

'Are you sure about this? Maybe you should learn to be more obedient to your master. It's OK here, we're safe, and have all we need. We'll have money at the end of the month, from the tips,' Jane pointed out.

'Just do as your told! Go to the staff restroom and wait for me,' Elizabeth hissed.

She watched the woman reluctantly disappear through the staff door. 

'I'd better go and wash my hands. I'll try and straighten up this mess too,' Elizabeth commented to Libby.

'What do you want me to do with this order? Damn! The ice is melting. OK! I'll remix the drinks. You need to cover up girl, it's all hanging out,' she laughed.

Elizabeth grabbed a hold of Jane's arm and roughly pulled her out of the restroom, to the open elevator. Inserting the card, she was relieved to find it worked. It seemed so slow, and she hoped it wouldn't stop at any other floor. They both looked a disgusting sight. At last it descended to street level and juddered open. 

Elizabeth looked quickly down the corridor, and breathed a sigh of relief. With no one around to stop them, they scooted down a concrete walkway, pushed through a heavy door, out onto a loading bay. They saw some steps down to the alley and ran for them. At the same time, Nigel saw them and backed up to meet them. Elizabeth opened the back door of the sedan, pushed Jane in, and bumped in beside her.

She immediately regretted sitting down hard on the seat, while moaning in pain. She rolled sideways to take the pressure of the tail, still stuck up her bottom. 

'You made it! I was worried how you were going to get away without me,' Nigel excitedly said. 

He had two scantily clad women in the back of his car, and couldn't wipe the big dopey grin from his face. They had proved willing already, and he expected them to be grateful for rescuing them.

The car glided north out of Las Vegas. The 'over the top' bright lights started to fade as they climbed out of the valley. Jane looked back at the receding jumble of neon. A wistful sigh escaped her lips. 

'We're well rid of that!' Elizabeth stated.

Jane couldn't agree. Her life in a small city had been boring and tedious. She had built a little empire, ruling committees with her so called friends. They were just an entourage of old biddies, and she had begun to behave like them before her time. She had become old in her thinking, too soon. Being a small fish in a big tumultuous sea, had been exciting. Being sexed up every night by strangers was wrong, yet so very thrilling.

'Doesn't the tail hurt? Elizabeth asked.

'No. I've worn a series of butt plugs to enlarge my asshole, for a master,' she explained.

Nigel heard this and gaped. He was her master now, she had said so. She also promised to obey his every whim. As her master he would have the use of her asshole! Fuck! He nearly drove off the road, and the sudden flick of the steering wheel brought a little yelp of pain from Elizabeth, when she rolled on the seat. 

With the miles rolling by, each of them were deep in thought, wondering what was to happen when they reached their destination. 

He hadn't time to think about it properly, thought now it was dawning on him, what it all meant. Back home he would have the use of Mrs Marshal's body! He couldn't remember who, but someone had said, she was a tight ass of a woman. They would be surprised to know he would be finding out how tight! Damn! It looked as though there wasn't anything she wouldn't do for him, as his slave. 

He was thinking of the prospect of meeting her at one of his parents dinner parties, or in the mall with friends. Knowing he had taken her in every hole, and that she was his slave, would be humiliating for her. The mature adult woman wouldn't be so imperious and objectionable then. Instead of demanding his courtesy, she would have to treat him with the respect due to a master.

Jane wondered what would happen to her, now that she had a new master. Her life was completely in the hands of this young man. It wasn't just sex, which is all a young man thought about. As good as that might be, there were other things in life needing attention.

While driving north, Elizabeth figured they were driving back home. Would that be his, or her father's home. Surely he couldn't hide them away in his family home, without his parents knowing. He hadn't asked them what they wanted, or where they wanted to go, he just sped off into the night. Being half naked, they could hardly stop off somewhere and hitch a ride.

Elizabeth scrunched up on the back seat, and laid her head on Jane's lap. Her eyes became heavy from tiredness, after the frantic escape. Her mind was still in a whirl, unable to accept they had escaped so easily.

Why wasn't he in college? Maybe he was driving them to his college, with the idea of keeping them as frat house slaves. Donating two women as sexual playthings would certainly buy him into any fraternity. Jane would submit to their demands without question. Would she? 

After all she had been through recently, maybe her moral standards might have been damaged. Perhaps when tested, she might capitulate like Jane. It would be appalling living under the control of a bunch of inconsiderate young students. The way she was dressed, her body looked ready to be served up to them. Being passed around from one adolescent to the next, pandering to their sexual needs, was a diabolical thought. 

So why was she so wet and exited from the thought? Had she been with Jane too long, so as to catch her slutty behaviour. Jane was a mature woman, yet she had given in to thinking of herself as a slave. How long would she last with young guys constantly exciting her. She could imagine her will receding a little every day, until she gave up wanting to escape them. 

She would end up permanently in residence, entertaining energetic young students. She would welcome a new batch of frat members each year, offering them her body. She imagined them asking her what she would do for them, and like Jane, she would be offering them everything, and anything their imaginations wanted her to perform.

***

There was no choice, Diane had to phone the boss. 

'How in hell did they get away? Never mind, you need help up there. I'll send a couple of waitresses from the main casino,' Alex said, sounding exasperated.

'Sorry boss,' Diane said.

'Maybe it's for the best. I didn't have the time to spend with them, to sort them out. Let someone else take care of them,' he muttered.

Diane knew he had some crazy idea of setting them free. After changing their thinking of themselves as slaves. Though Elizabeth didn't seem so humble, or in need of help, Jane did. She shook her head, ready to forget all about them. There were guests to look after, and she was short handed until help arrived.

***

Bright an early next day, Tommy turned up. He eventually got to see Alex, but in his line of work he had learnt patience. He could tell Alex recognised the two women in the photos he pushed across the desk. Though the guy was gruff, and non-committal. 

'Bob wants his daughter back. You can imagine how worried he is,' Tommy stated. 

'Daughter?' 

Tommy could see he had the man's attention now. 'Elizabeth is his daughter. Jane is his partner. She plays at being a slave. Obsessed by it, apparently,' he said. 

He watched the guy take a closer look at the photos. Tommy had met the woman, while delivering business documents to the house. He could confirm she was into playing at being a slave. It had been embarrassing interviewing Bob, after screwing Jane in the kitchen. It was a hard lesson, teaching him to keep his dick in his jeans. 

The man had made a decision. He cleared his throat a couple of times, and waved the photo around.

'A couple of gamblers complained to me about a woman being lost in a poker game. I made enquiries and got a name. Easy enough to track them down. Sent a couple of guys to collect her, and this other one turned up with her. This one, Jane, she really does think she's a slave. The other one said she was, though not so convincing. Said they had fallen on hard times, and had nowhere to go. Gave them work to set them up, so they could get somewhere to live,' he said.

'I feel there's a but coming along,' Tommy said.

'Seems I got it all wrong. They could have gone home to partner and father. Why they didn't just tell me, I don't know. I would have given them air-fare. Anyway, until last night they were working in the private club area of the casino. Put them up in a penthouse,' he sighed heavily. 'Last night they went,' he said.

A few taps on a keyboard, together with a few curses, and he turned the monitor toward the private investigator. 

'Security put this together. It shows them in the elevator, running down a corridor, to the delivery bay out back, and jumping into a car,' Alex told him. 'Here's the registration, from the car park he used. There's no clear picture of him. The car is registered to a Robert Finnegan. A guy of that name signed into the private club, but according to his file, he's fifty-five. No one seems to have checked his age. According to the supervisor, the guy sitting at a corner table wasn't over twenty-five,' Alex said.

'Stolen id? His son maybe?' Tommy asked.

'Didn't get that far yet. The supervisor said he might resemble the photo Id, though they hardly check them, so don't take much notice of that. As long as the Id bar code works, they can get into the elevator up to the club. Security figures anyone stepping out of it, must be a member. I guess I can leave it to you to find out who he is, and where he's taking them. Do me a big favour will you. Keep me out of this. What's Bob like? Will he make a fuss?' Alex asked.

'He's OK. All he wants is his women back, nothing else. They're important to him, both of them. Obviously his daughter, but he tries real hard to keep Jane happy,' Tommy explained.

'Anything you want in Vegas, you just have to let me know,' he began, when the phone rang.

'That was, well, a contact. The vehicle was seen travelling north-east out of Vegas. They picked it up on one of these computer things,' he grimaced.

'Thanks, that's a real help. I'm sure this will all be forgotten, and put behind them,' Tommy said, and stood to go.

'I meant what I said. Something you need in Vegas, you come and see me,' Tommy said, still not smiling. The face looked as though it had been a long time since cracking a smile.

Tommy took the direct approach. Starting with Robert Finnegan, he called the number. 

'Mrs Finnegan?' Tommy asked.

'How can I help you?' the woman said, sounding suspicious. 

'I'm Tommy Brogan of Corsairs Engineering. I'm just making a background check on a friend of your son. The young man gave him as a reference, for work experience, could I speak to him,' he kindly spoke.

'Which one, I have two sons,' she guardedly said.




Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 15



'These young people, writing is indecipherable these days,' he slowly replied, as though reading an application.

'It's either Stephen, or Nigel,' she said, trying to hurry him off the phone. 'Stephen is away at college, and Nigel is on a break. He's due back soon. Leave your number and I'll let them know you called,' she said.

He left his office number and thanked her. At least he had a couple of names. It was probably the one on a break, though the college kid couldn't be ruled out. Another phone call had him confirming a flight home. An enquiry at the local high school would get their ages, though little else, so that was out.

Tommy drove from the airport to the highway, stopping for a burger, sandwiches, and drink. He parked up in a highway rest area, west of the city. He figured it would take them over thirty hours to make the drive. If they hadn't stopped for the night, and drove straight through, they would be arriving soon. The coffee was finished as well as the sandwiches, and the burger was rumbling his gut. He was patient, but the past three hours was dragging him down. There was only so much talk radio he could stand. It was just a chance, but worth it. 

A black sedan approached. The number matched, so he started up, counted to ten, and made a u-turn. He followed them at a discreet distance, until again they passed city limits the other side of town, where they turned off the highway. He carried on. Another u-turn and he hurried down the opposite turn-off. They passed in front of him. He counted to ten, then turned after them. 

They were heading out to the lake. It looked as though they were doing his job for him, and going home back to Bob. They drove passed the old dirt track up to Bob's cabin, so he continued, letting the distance lengthen. He wasn't too bothered about being spotted, as they must be exhausted. Besides, what could they do or say? 

***

Nigel was trying hard to stay awake. Driving down to Las Vegas he'd stayed at a cheap motel, but not on the way back. They'd stopped to fill up, and surprised the young attendant, when the girls went to the restroom. Elizabeth had to fit the butt plug back in to hide the hole in her outfit. The women were tired too, as they had only fitfully slept.

Turning up the dirt track toward the lake, he was pleased to get home. The cabin was dark, confirming no-one was there. The place smelt musty, laying unused for months. He was relieved to find the lights worked, and there was a stack of wood round the back for the pot bellied stove. 

The women unpacked the food and bottled water. 

'I'm too tired to eat. I'm going to bed, to sleep,' he groaned. 

They traipsed with him to a bedroom, not caring about modesty, and anyway, there was only one bedroom. There was a bed, exactly what they wanted. They shed their clothes, feeling grimy, and slipped between stiffly starched cold sheets. They snuggled up to Nigel to keep warm. 

'Very nice, slaves,' he murmured.

Jane responded automatically, 'Yes, master, thank you, master.' She snuggled closer, and wrapped a leg around his.

Elizabeth heard her words and mimicked her. 'Thank you for rescuing us, master.' Her voice sounded more sincere than she meant. Too tired to care, she gave in to the feeling of being rescued, and protected. She pressed herself closer and entwined a leg around his free leg. 

He was just awake enough to appreciate their closeness, and take in their sentiments.

'Good slave girls. Your master will look after you,' he murmured, and kissed them gently on the lips.

'Mmm, nice, master,' Elizabeth murmured as she fell asleep. 

Jane opened her mouth and sucked his tongue for a moment, then she too was fast asleep. 

Nigel had two beautiful naked women in bed with him. He was too tired to do anything about it, but made an effort. He whispered in Elizabeth's ear, 'Your my slave now. I shall fuck you anytime I want, in any way I want.'

She murmured something in her sleep, her eyes flickered, and she was away.

He turned to Jane and whispered in her ear, hoping for a better response. 'I'll keep you safe, slave. You're my fuck slave from now on. I'll keep you sexed up all the time, and fuck you hard in all the ways you like, and don't like.'

'Mmm, yes, master,' Jane murmured, and returned to dreamland.

In her sleep, Elizabeth heard what was said and took it all in. Her eyelids began to flicker, dreaming deeper, breathing shallow and ragged.

***

Elizabeth couldn't help herself. She was becoming so sexed up, she felt out of control yet again. She didn't want to be his slave. Every time she summoned the willpower to defy him, he pulled a stunt to keep her in line. 

They were walking through a mall, and she was wearing a short skirt without panties. He kept leading her to hot air vents, blowing up the skirt, flashing strangers. 

They walked into an art exhibition, and unaccountably she lost the skirt and top. She was standing among the guests wearing nothing but body paint. Other painted women were wearing bikinis, but she wasn't. The crowd moved around admiring the exhibits, pressing in upon her. The paint started to rub off and she became more desperate to escape. 

A tray of drinks was shoved into her hands, so she had to serve the guests. With her hands full she was unable to stop their exploring fingers. It was such an inappropriate place to be naked, she felt terrible. The men were commenting on how wet she was, and how big and hard her nipples were. 

She pleaded with Nigel on heaving breaths, to look after her, and help her escape. Feeling excited from being naked among strangers, she gave in, declaring she was his slave, and could he please take her home and fuck her.

Before she could find somewhere to be alone with him, they were back in the mall, on an escalator. She felt the skirt catch in the top teeth, ripping it off, revealing a tiny pink thong. The guys behind her cheered, and she nearly cum. 

It would be dark in a theatre, so she was pleased her master bought tickets. They were making their way to middle seats in a full row. As she excused her way to a middle seat, she realised her skirt was up, showing off a tiny string thong. She had to squeeze all the way to her seat, wiggling her bare bottom in strangers faces, before sitting down, and covering her shame. No sooner had she sat down, she had to pee, so desperately made her way past them, again with the skirt up. This time she was facing them, seemingly waving her sex in their faces. The comments were awful, yet exciting. She was again ready to orgasm, and it was so evident, they commented upon it. The men started to touch her, as she passed them, and she again became desperate to orgasm. 

Emerging from the rest room she was surprised to be at a sophisticated supper party. Standing among important guests, she was again handed a tray of drinks. She wanted to tell someone she was a guest, not a waitress. The buttons on her blouse kept popping off unexpectedly, leaving her breasts on display. Her nipples seemed huge, revealing how excited she was. Men kept touching them, pulling on her nipples, commenting on how large they were. 

He led her away, helping her escape, but not home so she could satisfy her lust. Instead they were at a football game, and she was wearing a tiny top with cut-off jeans. The shorts hardly covered her bottom, and the threads at the crotch were unravelling, until it parted. The shorts kept riding up her hips like a tube, revealing her pussy and asshole. Pushing through the crowd of men to find Nigel, she realised how badly she needed her master to take care of her. She was gasping from having hands all over her body, taking advantage of her nakedness.

At last they were at home, where she pleaded with him to fuck her. She promised to be a faithful and obedient slave, just so long as he fucked her. She quickly got off her knees as strangers filed into the room. Her master had invited friends to a party, and she was having to serve the young adolescents. 

She suddenly became conscious of the outfit, which was nothing more than a tiny g-string and a push up-bra. Her nipples were on show, and just a thin triangle of cotton cupped her lips. It was already wet, and so far no-one had touched her. Nigel informed everyone that she was his sex slave, and the humiliation had her on the edge of an orgasm.

He announced they were going to play, pin the tail on the donkey. She was the donkey, and the tail was a butt plug. The tiny patch covering her pussy was soaking wet. The girls made fun of her, and the boys stroked her naked body. She was bouncing with sexual lust, ready to give in to anyone.

He kept her in a state of arousal all the time, so she couldn't think straight, and was forever needing his cock. She kept declaring she was his dutiful slave, and should be looked after, with a good, hard fucking.

***

Jane groaned as her young master took her yet again. With Mark they had to be furtive, in case his mother found out. With Nigel they were free to copulate all the time, and as he was a young randy guy, they did. Jane was humiliated from having an adolescent command her every move, with everything in her life under his control. 

He went out of his way to humiliated her, and that kept the fire between her legs well stoked. She was constantly ready for him, obediently giving in to his every whim. With all inhibitions wiped away she was able to try anything he thought up, or discovered on the internet. She was nothing but a boy's sex toy. An object for him to play with. She had never been so happy in her life.

***

Elizabeth woke up, unsure where she was. She was soaking wet between the legs, and wondered if Nigel had made use of her in the night. He was her master, so of course he could use her body if he wanted to. 

'What the hell?' she murmured. 

She wondered where that thought came from. He was still fast asleep, and a feeling of wanting him to fuck her became stronger. She wanted to wake him, declare her servitude, and beg him for a passionate session. She wrapped her arms around her naked body, willing herself to regain control, and not wake him. If he woke now she would humiliate herself by submitting to him, just for sex.

Jane was the other side of him, quietly snoring. 

Elizabeth was shivering, unsure if was from cold or passion. She put a hand between her legs and discovered how aroused she was. Jane was a rival for his cock, and she was desperate for it. He was stirring, and might wake her competitor any moment. 

Jane squirmed down the bed, and pushed between his legs. His cock was already half awake, so she soon brought it to full attention. She made her way up the bed, to sit on it. This time she knew who she was doing, and what she was doing. The only worry was why. She pushed down on his cock, while his eyes were flickering open.

Not to be outdone by her rival, she breathed out heavily, 'Good morning, master.' 

She didn't need a master, but needed a cock. If this was what he wanted to hear, she would sell her sole and regret it later.

She felt him thrusting up with strong leg muscles, doing her hard. Through slit eyes she saw Jane waking. She wanted to boast she had won the master away from her, but was too involved in nearing a climax. She cum, but he kept at it. Maybe it was the morning hardness that kept him going.

She was about to roll off him, not wanting to become sore, only to feel another orgasm building. This was a surprise! Soon she was yelping with every powerful thrust, feeling ripples of sensations wander out to fingers and toes. The orgasm was deeper, and longer than before. 

When he spurted his load into her, she collapsed upon him completely sated. He lifted her head and kissed her lips. She looked into his clear hazel eyes and melted. 

Her speech was slurred as though drunk. 'You've mastered me. I'm your slave now.' 

She was unsure whether it was a dig at Jane, or could she possibly mean it?

Jane was mesmerised, unable to move away while they screwed. It wasn't the same as when they shared a stranger in the coffee shop. This was different from the frantic fucking the other night, it was a slow deliberate love making. Elizabeth was taking her master. When Elizabeth declared she was his slave, Jane was livid. He was her master, and she had never really shared a master before, never had a rival for a master's care.

'Get us some coffee, slave,' Nigel ordered.

Jane was unable to disobey her master, so reluctantly slid from the bed. Her rival was in her rightful place, cuddling her master. She would have to try hard to please her master, and outdo Elizabeth for his attention. The woman was younger, with a slender figure. However, she knew more tricks to please a master, and had a voluptuous figure. A master liked large breasts, and she had prepared her asshole, which she felt Elizabeth would never stoop to offer. She would use all her wiles on him, to win his attention.

Preparing coffee it occurred to her how wrong it was to be vying for a young man's care. As a mature woman, it was demeaning to be so dependent upon a young master. It was humiliating to be preparing herself as a compliant sex object, ready to submit to his every whim. Feeling the familiar sexual tension, she relented to the sordid idea, and revelled in the squalid degradation. 

She reminded herself why it was acceptable, that she was nothing more than a sex object, something to be used by a master, no longer a person with a free will. She was trained as a slave, auctioned to the highest bidder, sold in a store, won in a game of cards, and sold to a mysterious owner to be abused in a club. For a second time, she had been stolen away in the night, to become someone's slave. Being stolen meant she was nothing more than an object. At any time she could be used then sold on. 

She shrugged her shoulders. A year ago, she would never have imagined having such an exciting life. Her husband had been her only lover. She thought sex was just something to be endured, occasionally. In the last year she had numerous sexual partners, with such diverse demands, her head span thinking about it. She hadn't realised sex could be so different and exciting. During this last year it seemed as though she had been in a continuous state of arousal.

Finding a tray, she set out breakfast, and carried it to her master. She was a better trained, and more experienced slave, than Elizabeth could ever be. With patience and obedience, she would win.