Chapter 3
He led me out of the punishment room, locked the door behind us, and then drew me toward another nearby door, that one with no locks on it. As he opened it and escorted me inside, he said, "This will be your room if you become my slave, Sharon. You will be free to redecorate it in any manner you choose. You'll notice there is no lock on the door, because I must have instant access to your body at any time of my choosing."
He then dropped my hand from his, and as he turned to the door he said, "I will leave you to yourself now. Please use the time between now and tomorrow evening to carefully consider your decision. Always remember that once you sign the contract, you will have no more rights. You will be held here in slavery, and become my property to do with as I will. If I choose to punish you, I will. If I choose to have you bred by any animal of my choosing, I will. If I choose to let others enjoy your body, and torture it in any way they wish, I will. In short, you will be signing away anything you now think of as your own. Be careful about your choice."
Then, saying nothing else, he left the room, closing the door softly behind him, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.
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That night had to have been the most-restless hours I had ever endured, as I'm sure you can imagine. I thought over and over of his warnings, but everything seemed to return to the punishment room right across the hallway from my lonely bedroom. I thought of myself tied across the horse, being whipped viciously by every whip on the display panel. I visualized my body stretched painfully on the rack, with my tits stretched far above my head and the hook deep in my cunt holding my body high above the table so it could be whipped all over.
But most of all, my curiosity would not let me forget about the locked door in the rear wall of the punishment room, and what might be beyond it. And in the end, it was that curiosity that firmed my resolve to sign the contract that would enslave me. I simply had to know what was back there, and I couldn't live the rest of my life not knowing what it was.
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I must have fallen asleep at some time during that restless night, because the next memory I have is of a hand on my shoulder shaking me awake, and a voice saying softly, "Ma'am, you have to wake up now. Please, ma'am. My Master ordered me to get you ready for your appointment at 9:00, and it's already 7:30. Please, ma'am, wake up."
I forced my eyes to open just far enough to see a young girl kneeling beside my bed, continuing to beg me to get up. At last her words had some impact on my brain, and I managed to ask, "What . . . what appointment? Where am I supposed to be at 9:00?"
She answered, "You're scheduled to meet with Dr. Detterding then, and she'll take you down to the Marketing Division, where you'll meet the other members of your team. I need to help you get ready to go. Please let me help you in the bathroom, ma'am. You need to hurry."
I was at last awake enough to sit up on the side of the bed, and as I watched her appreciative eyes roam over my naked body, I asked, "What's your name?"
"I'm Jamie, ma'am. I've been assigned to be your personal slave, and if I fail to get you to your appointment on time, I'll be taken to the punishment room again, and I'm still so sore from yesterday that I can barely walk."
As my befogged brain came slowly to life, all I could think of was to say, "Please don't call me 'ma'am,' Jamie. My name is Sharon."
"Oh, no, ma'am! I'm not allowed to address my superiors like that. Please let me call you 'ma'am,' ma'am. My Master and Mistress will beat me again if I don't obey them."
At last the urgency in her voice awakened me fully, and I stood up and began to walk to the bathroom. Jamie hurried to catch up with me, pleading with me to accept her service while I was using the bathroom. When I told her I could take care of that part all by myself, she broke into tears, and sobbingly told me again, "Please, ma'am, if you don't let me serve you they'll beat with the bullwhip until I pass out. Maybe this time they'll even send me to one of the brothels in the Middle East, where girls are given to the camels to use."
That caught my attention, for sure, and I tried to assure her by saying, "I'm sure your Master and Mistress will understand, but just in case, you can come into the bathroom. All I ask is that you turn your back when I sit on the toilet."
That seemed to upset her just as much as anything else I had said, and she pleaded with me to allow her to serve me, and she wanted to do it so much, and she knew it would be really good, and it would save her from a horrible beating if only I'd let her serve me as she was supposed to do.
Well, call me soft-hearted, but I at last relented and told her I would be happy to accept her services, and the huge smile that was immediately on her face made me feel I'd made the correct decision.
As soon as we walked into the bathroom, the first thing I looked around for was the toilet, because I certainly felt a great urge to use one right then. I saw a cabinet with a sink in the top, a large shower cabinet, but nothing else except a strange-looking chair that appeared to have had its legs shortened.
And then, as I stared at it, I saw that instead of a normal chair seat, it had a white toilet seat, just as could be found on any toilet in the world. I stopped dead right where I was and stared at it for a long time, until Jamie took my hand and almost dragged my reluctant body toward the thing.
Raising the lid of the toilet seat, she pleaded, "Please, ma'am, sit down here. Just give me a second to get under you, and then you can do anything you want. I want it so bad that I can already taste it, ma'am. Please let me have everything you have for me."
And then I was holding her hand and lowering my butt to the toilet seat, and she was lying on her back in front of me, and then she was scooting her body under the chair, and then I felt her tongue licking my bottom, and then she was begging, "Please feed me first, ma'am. Let me have all of it, and then I'll move out a little bit so you can give me the drink you have for me."
Then there was total silence in the bathroom as her lips closed around my puckered opening, and her tongue began to probe the depths of that previously-unexplored part of my body. As if the very presence of her tongue in my butt were what it had been waiting for its entire life, my bowel began to force out what she so badly wanted, and I listened to the sound of her throat working as she ate and ate.
At last I felt her tongue licking me clean back there, and then she moved forward a small amount. I heard her begging me again to give her everything I had for her, and I simply had no more willpower to resist her. As her lips closed around that part of me that was connected to my overfull bladder, it began to empty itself in her mouth. Again I heard the sound of her throat working, and then she was licking me dry, and it was over.
Before I knew what was happening, the two of us were in the shower and she was soaping me all over, and telling me how wonderful I was to allow her to serve me like that, and how much she loved me, and how happy her Master and Mistress would be that I'd let her do that. I was finally able to get a word in edgewise, and I said, "I think I know that your Master is Mr. Vijor, but I don't know who your Mistress is. Is she here in this building, too?"
"Yes, ma'am. My Master is my father, Jean-Marc Vijor, and my Mistress is my mother, Dr. Detterding."
Well, to say I was shocked would have been putting it very lightly. I had no idea that Mr. Vijor was even married, let alone that he had a ******** who was apparently his slave, just as I intended to be.
"Do you mean that Mr. Vijor and Dr. Detterding are married?" I asked.
"Oh, no, ma'am. My Master has never been married, although I think he might marry you. You're all he can talk about, and he's never been that way about any other new slave. He thinks you're very special, and I do, too, ma'am."
I thought about what she'd told me about her parents as she dried me with one of the luxurious towels from the heated towel rack, and then as she brushed my hair, I asked, "Jamie, are you one of Mr. Vijor's submissives?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am! I'm submissive to both of them, and always have been. They're taught me everything I know, and I just wish I were smart like you so I could learn better, and they wouldn't have to punish me so much."
By that time I had already seen the scars and fresh welts on her body, so I knew she was telling the truth about being punished. But, as evidence of how perverted I was, I couldn't feel all that sorry for her, and actually experienced a thrill as I knew I was seeing my own future if I signed the contract that evening, as I still intended to do. Just knowing Jamie's mother was doing things like that to her brought back the images of my own fantasies about that sort of thing, and it took every bit of my willpower to cooperate as the young girl dressed.
Jamie finished dressing me in casual clothes, and then hurriedly led me to the kitchen, where she seated me at a small table. The cook, whom I hadn't seen before that time, although I'd certainly become aware of her talents during dinner the previous evening, was an older woman who certainly loved to talk.
She went on and on about how much the Master had talked about me, and how glad she was that I might be joining "the ******," as she called it. She then paused in her seemingly endless one-sided conversation, and as she stood there looking at me, she asked, "You are going to sign the contract, aren't you? I just know the Master could never live with himself if he lost you. Please say you're going to be with us from now on, Sharon. Okay?"
I looked up at her eager face, then simply nodded in answer, while saying only, "I am."
She and Jamie hugged each other with a great deal of affection and joy, and then she said in her most-heartfelt voice, "We were all watching you during the testing yesterday, and it just drove me crazy to see how big and gorgeous your breasts are. Now that I know we're going to have you in the punishment room, I'm afraid I'm just going to keel over dead with excitement. I've always specialized in tit punishment, and I promise I'll make it really good for you when the Master gives you to me."
As had already happened to me many times since I first set foot in the building, I was stupefied. I hadn't know that anybody was watching me during the tests, let alone lots of other people, and the sudden embarrassment I felt made my face glow. I guess neither of them noticed, because the cook just continued preparing the scrambled eggs and toast I'd asked for, and then I was too busy satisfying my rumbling stomach to be embarrassed about anything.
After I had eaten my fill, Jamie led me out the front door of the suite, and then paused as she opened a hidden panel on the outside wall. When I saw she was taking clothes out of the recess in the wall, I must have had a puzzled expression on my face, because she answered my unasked question with, "I have to put on my clothes before I can leave this floor. It'll take just a few seconds for me to get dressed, so you won't be late for your appointment."
Soon she was ready, and we got in the elevator and a few seconds later Jamie was escorting me into Dr. Detterding's office. She was immediately dismissed by the older woman, and closed the door behind herself as she left the room.
The Director walked around her desk and gave me a strong hug before she told me the purpose of my visit here, which was to be escorted to the Marketing Division where I would be introduced to the team I'd be joining. Wasting no time, she took my hand and led me out the door, down the hallway, into the elevator, and then through the door marked "Marketing Division."
Once inside I was introduced to a young woman who was evidently waiting for me. Dr. Detterding told me, "Sharon, this is Cheryl, and she'll be leading the team that's designing the advertising campaign for our newest acquisition." She watched us shake hands, then continued, "I must get back to work now. Good luck with your new adventure, and I just want you to know that we're all expecting great things from you."
Cheryl led me into an adjoining room, where I saw three other women sitting at a large, round table with notepads and pencils in front of them, as well as cups of coffee or tea. I was introduced to the other members of the group, and as soon as I had my own cup of tea, we got right down to work.
Cheryl, as the leader, reminded us of the assignment, then gave an overview of the company that was being acquired. It was a health- and beauty-care manufacturer, which primarily marketed its products to women, although some could be used by men, also.
She then asked for contributions from the group, and instantly a girl who was probably a couple years older than I held up her hand. She had been introduced as "Edie," and her speciality was photography and illustration.
"I've been thinking about that ever since you told us about this assignment, and I'd like to throw out an idea to see what you all think of it."
She waited for Cheryl's nod, then continued, "Well, I've been thinking that there's a niche of the market that no one is serving, and it just may turn out to be lots bigger than anyone ever guessed. If it's okay, I'd like to tell you something about my background that no one here knows, and then maybe it'll be clearer just why I think there may be an unexplored market for us to tap."
Again Cheryl signaled acceptance, and Edie told us her story.
"My mom was never married, so she raised me and my baby sister by herself. I guess the only thing that saved us from living in poverty was that the guy who got her pregnant owned the company where she worked, and mom was smart enough to blackmail the bastard when he tried to deny he was the father. Anyway, we always had enough money to get by without her working, which made it nice for us.
"When I was about three years old, mom told me that she was going to have a baby sister for me to play with, which I thought was really great. We both planned all the things we could do with the new baby, and even bought all sorts of pink clothes for her.
"Well, imagine our disappoint when my baby sister was born, and right there between her legs were these awful growths. I guess mom never believed in amniocentesis, probably because she was Catholic, so it never occurred to her that my baby sister might actually be my baby brother.
"I remember how disappointed we both were, but mom told me that we were going to make the best of the situation. Well, what that meant was that we would tell everybody the baby was a girl, just like we'd always wanted, so we did. The name on the birth certificate is 'Glenn,' but as soon as we got her home we decided she would always be 'Glenda' to us. We actually called her 'Glennie,' and that's the name we gave everyone else.
"Glennie was always dressed as a girl, and always treated as a girl, and never thought of herself as anything other than a girl, even though she couldn't understand why her junk didn't look like our pussies. We just told her that some little girls were born with that sort of stuff between their legs, and that when she was older it would have to be removed so she could live normally.
"Now, you're probably wondering how all this has anything to do with an advertising campaign for the new company, but it actually does.
"Here's what I've been thinking. It occurred to me that the LGBT community is becoming more accepted than ever before, except for the 'T' part, which refers to the transexuals. I think we can tap into that market, and gain lots of customers. I know that Glennie has always tried to find stuff that would make her skin softer and more feminine, and then when she reached puberty and started getting hair on her face, she needed some way to deal with that.
"My suggestion is that we market to the transexuals, and I've thought about how we can do that. Actually, the whole thing took shape in my mind as soon as I laid eyes on Sharon, because I think she'd be a natural for the female lead in our campaign."
Well, that certainly got my attention, because I'd never thought of myself as any sort of model, but before I could say anything, Edie started talking again.
"What I would like to see us do is start with a young boy, maybe sitting on a deserted pier by the ocean, with no one else around to emphasize how alone he is. We'd hear him thinking something like, 'Why was I born like this? I was never meant to be in this body, and I hate it. My skin is all rough, and this hair won't stop growing out of my face. Can't anything be done about it?
"In the next segment he's sitting there, fantasizing about what he wants to look like, and we see this dreamscape forming around him, and suddenly Sharon comes running down the beach in slow motion, that delicious body of hers wearing nothing but the tiniest string bikini we can find. There's no question she's the epitome of what it means to be a woman, and we see the boy smiling dreamily as she approaches, and we know he wants to be her with all his heart.
"In the next frame, we push our skin softener, emphasizing how it makes skin beautifully smooth and vibrant. Then, next we push our depilator, and say it leads to a beautiful face with no shadow at all."
Edie stopped talking then, and looked expectantly at the rest of us. I could literally see the wheels turning in their brains, and Cheryl confirmed what everyone was thinking when she said, "I think it could actually work. Hell of an idea, Edie. You know, it never occurred to me that no one is marketing to that part of our culture."
She then turned to me and asked, "How about you, Sharon? Would you be okay with being a part of the new campaign? It wouldn't mean you wouldn't still be our language advisor, because there's no question we're going to need your skills in that area, but, I mean, just look at you. Honey, that bod of yours needs to be on every TV screen in the world, and I double-damn guarantee that if you let us use you, this ad blitz will be over the top, and it won't be just trannys looking at you."
Well, what else could I say? So I said, "Yes." That brought on a round of clapping, and when Cheryl said, "Well, I think that's enough for today, guys. Let's all go with this idea, and when we meet tomorrow I'm going to expect lots of input."
Oddly enough, at that point she looked at the ceiling above our table, and I couldn't stop my own eyes from following hers. What I saw was something that I assumed was an ordinary light fixture, except the shade looked like half of a dark-plastic globe about 6" in diameter. I wondered how the bulbs could ever be changed, but since that didn't have anything to do with me, I decided to just ignore it.
It was at that moment that a tiny green light blinked on and off, and Cheryl said, "Okay, guys. Let's break it up."
As everyone stood and walked away from the table, Cheryl came to me and took my arm as she said, "Sharon, I need to get you back to the penthouse right away. The Master needs you now, and he can't be kept waiting."
She then escorted me out the door, and back up to the top floor. To my surprise, once we reached the door to the Master's suite, she didn't knock or walk in, but instead began to remove her clothes and place them behind a hidden panel that was the duplicate of the one where Jamie had stashed her own clothes that morning.
I guess she must have sensed my unasked question, because she smiled at me as she stood there naked, then said, "I'm one of the Master's submissives, and I'm not allowed to wear clothes when I'm in his home. You'll have to follow the same rule if you sign the contract."
Before I had a chance to answer, she was leading my through the door, and then across the entry to a part of the suite I hadn't seen before. When we entered that room, I saw the Master kneeling beside a beautiful chair, in which an older woman was seated. I know I've mentioned before that he had what I called a "commanding presence," but at that moment the look on his face as he gazed at the woman sitting there, was a look of, simply put, 'adoration.'
His hands were folded in front of his crotch, but if they had not been there, I was sure his penis would have been hugely erect, because he was obviously aroused, as evidenced by the way he gasped for breath through his half-open mouth.
The woman was utterly in charge of the room, and my eyes were drawn to her as if to the strongest magnet in the whole world. She was wearing what I knew was called a "bustier," although I'd never before seen one for real. Her forearms and hands were covered by long, black-leather gloves, and in one hand she was holding a riding crop. Her legs were almost entirely covered by black-leather boots that extended from her toes up to a few inches below her crotch, and it was that part of her body that I felt compelled to stare at with every bit of my attention.
The bustier started right below her huge breasts, leaving them totally exposed to view, then fell to her waist, where it terminated at the point that left her navel exposed. Below that was the most-abundant pubic hair I had ever seen, or even imagined, in my life. In short, she presented the most-striking and breath-taking sight I had ever beheld, and all I could do was stand there speechless.
I heard her say, "Thank you, Cheryl. That will be all for now."
I heard Cheryl whisper, "Thank you, Mistress Pamela," and then a heartbeat later, I heard the door being closed behind me.
Mistress Pamela then turned her gaze toward me, and for the first time I felt her utter power sweep over me. I knew I was as nothing when compared to her, and that she was in complete control of not only the situation, but also of me.
She uttered but a single word as she looked at me with a malevolent glint in her eyes.
"Strip!"
For a split second I thought about the unsigned contract, and that until I did that part, I was still a free woman, but that silly thought vanished immediately. I knew I had to obey her, for she was so far above me there was no comparison.
My hands began to unbutton my blouse, and then to push it over my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I stepped out of slip-ons that Jamie had put on my feet that morning, and then unbuttoned my slacks and pushed them over my hips. That left me totally naked, since Jamie had not given me any panties to wear when she dressed me.
As my slacks touched the floor, Mistress Pamela gave me another one-word command.
"Kneel!"
And my knees buckled, and then dropped to the floor. I struggled to breathe, and suddenly there wasn't enough air in the room, and I knew that Mistress Pamela was inhaling all of it and that I was going to die, and, and, . . . And then she gave one more command.
"Come!"
My knees shuffled across the carpet, my only focus her exquisite breasts and thick bush that hid the treasure I longed to see, and then I was as close to her body as I could get, and she was pushing her bottom across the cushion of the chair, and then her deliciious crotch was right there in my face, and I heard the most-wonderful word in the English language.
"Lick!"
And I did. I inhaled her wonderful aroma as my tongue worshipped her beautiful vagina, never pausing for even a split-second as she spoke to me in her hypnotic voice.
"I glad you came, little slave. I haven't washed that part of my body in two days, in anticipation of your tongue bathing it. Do you like the taste of my stale piss? Can you smell it on the part you're feeding upon so eagerly? Are you anticipating when I move forward even further, and allow you to lick my anus, which has not been washed for the same number of days? You like that, don't you, little slave? You know deep inside your soul of souls that you were always meant to be my toilet, and today you are going to be given the privilege of serving me in that manner. It's what you want, isn't it, little slave?"
I don't know if I even tried to answer her question, for at that moment she pushed her body even farther forward, and my tongue eagerly sought the prize that was always meant to be its. I was simply lost in the scent, the texture, and most of all the delicious taste of her puckered opening, and I did my best to force my tongue deep inside it, and then to follow with the rest of my body.
At some point in time, seconds or hours later I know not which, I heard her order, "Cease," and I forced my face to draw back from her body. Then, for the first time, my eyes lifted to her face, and I saw her staring down at me with an expression of complete love on her beautiful face.
She reached down to me and she moved back in the chair, and with a strength I would never have guessed she had, she lifted me onto her lap and cradled me there and she kissed my neck and my face and my lips, while her fingers caressed me in every place I had that could drive me crazy with lust.
At last she ceased stimulating me, and spoke her first full sentence since I had entered the room.
"My little slave, I've looked forward to meeting you ever since Jean-Marc first told me about you, more than two years ago. I told him then that I wanted him to use you first, and if I was pleased with your acceptance of pain, then I would assume ownership of your body and your mind.
"Julia sent me the results of your tests yesterday, and based on your being in the 99th percentile of deviancy, as well as your reponse to his showing you the punishment room, I have decided you need to be mine with no delay. I haven't had a slave like you will be since Jean-Marc's mother left me several years ago, and I've missed that very much in my life. Only she could give me the orgasms I deserve to have, and now that I have you, you will give them to me again.
"Now, Jean-Marc has a story to tell you about himself, and at the end of it you will be presented with a contract that, if signed by you, will place you in my power for as long as you shall live. After you sign it, and I'm sure you shall, I will take you through the door that so aroused your curiosity last night, the one behind the punishment room. Once there, I will explain to you every device, every machine, and every tool in it, and how they will be used on your body to extract every bit of the agony I must give you."
Leaving me more stupified than ever before, she then said to my Master, "Proceed, Jean-Marc."
And he began telling me the story of his life, and how Mistress Pamela figured so prominently in it. And I sat unmoving on her lap as she caressed me anew, and I listened, enthralled, to his words.
Continued in Chapter 4
Questions or comments? Please write to me at: sharon_smif@gmx.com
He led me out of the punishment room, locked the door behind us, and then drew me toward another nearby door, that one with no locks on it. As he opened it and escorted me inside, he said, "This will be your room if you become my slave, Sharon. You will be free to redecorate it in any manner you choose. You'll notice there is no lock on the door, because I must have instant access to your body at any time of my choosing."
He then dropped my hand from his, and as he turned to the door he said, "I will leave you to yourself now. Please use the time between now and tomorrow evening to carefully consider your decision. Always remember that once you sign the contract, you will have no more rights. You will be held here in slavery, and become my property to do with as I will. If I choose to punish you, I will. If I choose to have you bred by any animal of my choosing, I will. If I choose to let others enjoy your body, and torture it in any way they wish, I will. In short, you will be signing away anything you now think of as your own. Be careful about your choice."
Then, saying nothing else, he left the room, closing the door softly behind him, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.
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That night had to have been the most-restless hours I had ever endured, as I'm sure you can imagine. I thought over and over of his warnings, but everything seemed to return to the punishment room right across the hallway from my lonely bedroom. I thought of myself tied across the horse, being whipped viciously by every whip on the display panel. I visualized my body stretched painfully on the rack, with my tits stretched far above my head and the hook deep in my cunt holding my body high above the table so it could be whipped all over.
But most of all, my curiosity would not let me forget about the locked door in the rear wall of the punishment room, and what might be beyond it. And in the end, it was that curiosity that firmed my resolve to sign the contract that would enslave me. I simply had to know what was back there, and I couldn't live the rest of my life not knowing what it was.
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I must have fallen asleep at some time during that restless night, because the next memory I have is of a hand on my shoulder shaking me awake, and a voice saying softly, "Ma'am, you have to wake up now. Please, ma'am. My Master ordered me to get you ready for your appointment at 9:00, and it's already 7:30. Please, ma'am, wake up."
I forced my eyes to open just far enough to see a young girl kneeling beside my bed, continuing to beg me to get up. At last her words had some impact on my brain, and I managed to ask, "What . . . what appointment? Where am I supposed to be at 9:00?"
She answered, "You're scheduled to meet with Dr. Detterding then, and she'll take you down to the Marketing Division, where you'll meet the other members of your team. I need to help you get ready to go. Please let me help you in the bathroom, ma'am. You need to hurry."
I was at last awake enough to sit up on the side of the bed, and as I watched her appreciative eyes roam over my naked body, I asked, "What's your name?"
"I'm Jamie, ma'am. I've been assigned to be your personal slave, and if I fail to get you to your appointment on time, I'll be taken to the punishment room again, and I'm still so sore from yesterday that I can barely walk."
As my befogged brain came slowly to life, all I could think of was to say, "Please don't call me 'ma'am,' Jamie. My name is Sharon."
"Oh, no, ma'am! I'm not allowed to address my superiors like that. Please let me call you 'ma'am,' ma'am. My Master and Mistress will beat me again if I don't obey them."
At last the urgency in her voice awakened me fully, and I stood up and began to walk to the bathroom. Jamie hurried to catch up with me, pleading with me to accept her service while I was using the bathroom. When I told her I could take care of that part all by myself, she broke into tears, and sobbingly told me again, "Please, ma'am, if you don't let me serve you they'll beat with the bullwhip until I pass out. Maybe this time they'll even send me to one of the brothels in the Middle East, where girls are given to the camels to use."
That caught my attention, for sure, and I tried to assure her by saying, "I'm sure your Master and Mistress will understand, but just in case, you can come into the bathroom. All I ask is that you turn your back when I sit on the toilet."
That seemed to upset her just as much as anything else I had said, and she pleaded with me to allow her to serve me, and she wanted to do it so much, and she knew it would be really good, and it would save her from a horrible beating if only I'd let her serve me as she was supposed to do.
Well, call me soft-hearted, but I at last relented and told her I would be happy to accept her services, and the huge smile that was immediately on her face made me feel I'd made the correct decision.
As soon as we walked into the bathroom, the first thing I looked around for was the toilet, because I certainly felt a great urge to use one right then. I saw a cabinet with a sink in the top, a large shower cabinet, but nothing else except a strange-looking chair that appeared to have had its legs shortened.
And then, as I stared at it, I saw that instead of a normal chair seat, it had a white toilet seat, just as could be found on any toilet in the world. I stopped dead right where I was and stared at it for a long time, until Jamie took my hand and almost dragged my reluctant body toward the thing.
Raising the lid of the toilet seat, she pleaded, "Please, ma'am, sit down here. Just give me a second to get under you, and then you can do anything you want. I want it so bad that I can already taste it, ma'am. Please let me have everything you have for me."
And then I was holding her hand and lowering my butt to the toilet seat, and she was lying on her back in front of me, and then she was scooting her body under the chair, and then I felt her tongue licking my bottom, and then she was begging, "Please feed me first, ma'am. Let me have all of it, and then I'll move out a little bit so you can give me the drink you have for me."
Then there was total silence in the bathroom as her lips closed around my puckered opening, and her tongue began to probe the depths of that previously-unexplored part of my body. As if the very presence of her tongue in my butt were what it had been waiting for its entire life, my bowel began to force out what she so badly wanted, and I listened to the sound of her throat working as she ate and ate.
At last I felt her tongue licking me clean back there, and then she moved forward a small amount. I heard her begging me again to give her everything I had for her, and I simply had no more willpower to resist her. As her lips closed around that part of me that was connected to my overfull bladder, it began to empty itself in her mouth. Again I heard the sound of her throat working, and then she was licking me dry, and it was over.
Before I knew what was happening, the two of us were in the shower and she was soaping me all over, and telling me how wonderful I was to allow her to serve me like that, and how much she loved me, and how happy her Master and Mistress would be that I'd let her do that. I was finally able to get a word in edgewise, and I said, "I think I know that your Master is Mr. Vijor, but I don't know who your Mistress is. Is she here in this building, too?"
"Yes, ma'am. My Master is my father, Jean-Marc Vijor, and my Mistress is my mother, Dr. Detterding."
Well, to say I was shocked would have been putting it very lightly. I had no idea that Mr. Vijor was even married, let alone that he had a ******** who was apparently his slave, just as I intended to be.
"Do you mean that Mr. Vijor and Dr. Detterding are married?" I asked.
"Oh, no, ma'am. My Master has never been married, although I think he might marry you. You're all he can talk about, and he's never been that way about any other new slave. He thinks you're very special, and I do, too, ma'am."
I thought about what she'd told me about her parents as she dried me with one of the luxurious towels from the heated towel rack, and then as she brushed my hair, I asked, "Jamie, are you one of Mr. Vijor's submissives?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am! I'm submissive to both of them, and always have been. They're taught me everything I know, and I just wish I were smart like you so I could learn better, and they wouldn't have to punish me so much."
By that time I had already seen the scars and fresh welts on her body, so I knew she was telling the truth about being punished. But, as evidence of how perverted I was, I couldn't feel all that sorry for her, and actually experienced a thrill as I knew I was seeing my own future if I signed the contract that evening, as I still intended to do. Just knowing Jamie's mother was doing things like that to her brought back the images of my own fantasies about that sort of thing, and it took every bit of my willpower to cooperate as the young girl dressed.
Jamie finished dressing me in casual clothes, and then hurriedly led me to the kitchen, where she seated me at a small table. The cook, whom I hadn't seen before that time, although I'd certainly become aware of her talents during dinner the previous evening, was an older woman who certainly loved to talk.
She went on and on about how much the Master had talked about me, and how glad she was that I might be joining "the ******," as she called it. She then paused in her seemingly endless one-sided conversation, and as she stood there looking at me, she asked, "You are going to sign the contract, aren't you? I just know the Master could never live with himself if he lost you. Please say you're going to be with us from now on, Sharon. Okay?"
I looked up at her eager face, then simply nodded in answer, while saying only, "I am."
She and Jamie hugged each other with a great deal of affection and joy, and then she said in her most-heartfelt voice, "We were all watching you during the testing yesterday, and it just drove me crazy to see how big and gorgeous your breasts are. Now that I know we're going to have you in the punishment room, I'm afraid I'm just going to keel over dead with excitement. I've always specialized in tit punishment, and I promise I'll make it really good for you when the Master gives you to me."
As had already happened to me many times since I first set foot in the building, I was stupefied. I hadn't know that anybody was watching me during the tests, let alone lots of other people, and the sudden embarrassment I felt made my face glow. I guess neither of them noticed, because the cook just continued preparing the scrambled eggs and toast I'd asked for, and then I was too busy satisfying my rumbling stomach to be embarrassed about anything.
After I had eaten my fill, Jamie led me out the front door of the suite, and then paused as she opened a hidden panel on the outside wall. When I saw she was taking clothes out of the recess in the wall, I must have had a puzzled expression on my face, because she answered my unasked question with, "I have to put on my clothes before I can leave this floor. It'll take just a few seconds for me to get dressed, so you won't be late for your appointment."
Soon she was ready, and we got in the elevator and a few seconds later Jamie was escorting me into Dr. Detterding's office. She was immediately dismissed by the older woman, and closed the door behind herself as she left the room.
The Director walked around her desk and gave me a strong hug before she told me the purpose of my visit here, which was to be escorted to the Marketing Division where I would be introduced to the team I'd be joining. Wasting no time, she took my hand and led me out the door, down the hallway, into the elevator, and then through the door marked "Marketing Division."
Once inside I was introduced to a young woman who was evidently waiting for me. Dr. Detterding told me, "Sharon, this is Cheryl, and she'll be leading the team that's designing the advertising campaign for our newest acquisition." She watched us shake hands, then continued, "I must get back to work now. Good luck with your new adventure, and I just want you to know that we're all expecting great things from you."
Cheryl led me into an adjoining room, where I saw three other women sitting at a large, round table with notepads and pencils in front of them, as well as cups of coffee or tea. I was introduced to the other members of the group, and as soon as I had my own cup of tea, we got right down to work.
Cheryl, as the leader, reminded us of the assignment, then gave an overview of the company that was being acquired. It was a health- and beauty-care manufacturer, which primarily marketed its products to women, although some could be used by men, also.
She then asked for contributions from the group, and instantly a girl who was probably a couple years older than I held up her hand. She had been introduced as "Edie," and her speciality was photography and illustration.
"I've been thinking about that ever since you told us about this assignment, and I'd like to throw out an idea to see what you all think of it."
She waited for Cheryl's nod, then continued, "Well, I've been thinking that there's a niche of the market that no one is serving, and it just may turn out to be lots bigger than anyone ever guessed. If it's okay, I'd like to tell you something about my background that no one here knows, and then maybe it'll be clearer just why I think there may be an unexplored market for us to tap."
Again Cheryl signaled acceptance, and Edie told us her story.
"My mom was never married, so she raised me and my baby sister by herself. I guess the only thing that saved us from living in poverty was that the guy who got her pregnant owned the company where she worked, and mom was smart enough to blackmail the bastard when he tried to deny he was the father. Anyway, we always had enough money to get by without her working, which made it nice for us.
"When I was about three years old, mom told me that she was going to have a baby sister for me to play with, which I thought was really great. We both planned all the things we could do with the new baby, and even bought all sorts of pink clothes for her.
"Well, imagine our disappoint when my baby sister was born, and right there between her legs were these awful growths. I guess mom never believed in amniocentesis, probably because she was Catholic, so it never occurred to her that my baby sister might actually be my baby brother.
"I remember how disappointed we both were, but mom told me that we were going to make the best of the situation. Well, what that meant was that we would tell everybody the baby was a girl, just like we'd always wanted, so we did. The name on the birth certificate is 'Glenn,' but as soon as we got her home we decided she would always be 'Glenda' to us. We actually called her 'Glennie,' and that's the name we gave everyone else.
"Glennie was always dressed as a girl, and always treated as a girl, and never thought of herself as anything other than a girl, even though she couldn't understand why her junk didn't look like our pussies. We just told her that some little girls were born with that sort of stuff between their legs, and that when she was older it would have to be removed so she could live normally.
"Now, you're probably wondering how all this has anything to do with an advertising campaign for the new company, but it actually does.
"Here's what I've been thinking. It occurred to me that the LGBT community is becoming more accepted than ever before, except for the 'T' part, which refers to the transexuals. I think we can tap into that market, and gain lots of customers. I know that Glennie has always tried to find stuff that would make her skin softer and more feminine, and then when she reached puberty and started getting hair on her face, she needed some way to deal with that.
"My suggestion is that we market to the transexuals, and I've thought about how we can do that. Actually, the whole thing took shape in my mind as soon as I laid eyes on Sharon, because I think she'd be a natural for the female lead in our campaign."
Well, that certainly got my attention, because I'd never thought of myself as any sort of model, but before I could say anything, Edie started talking again.
"What I would like to see us do is start with a young boy, maybe sitting on a deserted pier by the ocean, with no one else around to emphasize how alone he is. We'd hear him thinking something like, 'Why was I born like this? I was never meant to be in this body, and I hate it. My skin is all rough, and this hair won't stop growing out of my face. Can't anything be done about it?
"In the next segment he's sitting there, fantasizing about what he wants to look like, and we see this dreamscape forming around him, and suddenly Sharon comes running down the beach in slow motion, that delicious body of hers wearing nothing but the tiniest string bikini we can find. There's no question she's the epitome of what it means to be a woman, and we see the boy smiling dreamily as she approaches, and we know he wants to be her with all his heart.
"In the next frame, we push our skin softener, emphasizing how it makes skin beautifully smooth and vibrant. Then, next we push our depilator, and say it leads to a beautiful face with no shadow at all."
Edie stopped talking then, and looked expectantly at the rest of us. I could literally see the wheels turning in their brains, and Cheryl confirmed what everyone was thinking when she said, "I think it could actually work. Hell of an idea, Edie. You know, it never occurred to me that no one is marketing to that part of our culture."
She then turned to me and asked, "How about you, Sharon? Would you be okay with being a part of the new campaign? It wouldn't mean you wouldn't still be our language advisor, because there's no question we're going to need your skills in that area, but, I mean, just look at you. Honey, that bod of yours needs to be on every TV screen in the world, and I double-damn guarantee that if you let us use you, this ad blitz will be over the top, and it won't be just trannys looking at you."
Well, what else could I say? So I said, "Yes." That brought on a round of clapping, and when Cheryl said, "Well, I think that's enough for today, guys. Let's all go with this idea, and when we meet tomorrow I'm going to expect lots of input."
Oddly enough, at that point she looked at the ceiling above our table, and I couldn't stop my own eyes from following hers. What I saw was something that I assumed was an ordinary light fixture, except the shade looked like half of a dark-plastic globe about 6" in diameter. I wondered how the bulbs could ever be changed, but since that didn't have anything to do with me, I decided to just ignore it.
It was at that moment that a tiny green light blinked on and off, and Cheryl said, "Okay, guys. Let's break it up."
As everyone stood and walked away from the table, Cheryl came to me and took my arm as she said, "Sharon, I need to get you back to the penthouse right away. The Master needs you now, and he can't be kept waiting."
She then escorted me out the door, and back up to the top floor. To my surprise, once we reached the door to the Master's suite, she didn't knock or walk in, but instead began to remove her clothes and place them behind a hidden panel that was the duplicate of the one where Jamie had stashed her own clothes that morning.
I guess she must have sensed my unasked question, because she smiled at me as she stood there naked, then said, "I'm one of the Master's submissives, and I'm not allowed to wear clothes when I'm in his home. You'll have to follow the same rule if you sign the contract."
Before I had a chance to answer, she was leading my through the door, and then across the entry to a part of the suite I hadn't seen before. When we entered that room, I saw the Master kneeling beside a beautiful chair, in which an older woman was seated. I know I've mentioned before that he had what I called a "commanding presence," but at that moment the look on his face as he gazed at the woman sitting there, was a look of, simply put, 'adoration.'
His hands were folded in front of his crotch, but if they had not been there, I was sure his penis would have been hugely erect, because he was obviously aroused, as evidenced by the way he gasped for breath through his half-open mouth.
The woman was utterly in charge of the room, and my eyes were drawn to her as if to the strongest magnet in the whole world. She was wearing what I knew was called a "bustier," although I'd never before seen one for real. Her forearms and hands were covered by long, black-leather gloves, and in one hand she was holding a riding crop. Her legs were almost entirely covered by black-leather boots that extended from her toes up to a few inches below her crotch, and it was that part of her body that I felt compelled to stare at with every bit of my attention.
The bustier started right below her huge breasts, leaving them totally exposed to view, then fell to her waist, where it terminated at the point that left her navel exposed. Below that was the most-abundant pubic hair I had ever seen, or even imagined, in my life. In short, she presented the most-striking and breath-taking sight I had ever beheld, and all I could do was stand there speechless.
I heard her say, "Thank you, Cheryl. That will be all for now."
I heard Cheryl whisper, "Thank you, Mistress Pamela," and then a heartbeat later, I heard the door being closed behind me.
Mistress Pamela then turned her gaze toward me, and for the first time I felt her utter power sweep over me. I knew I was as nothing when compared to her, and that she was in complete control of not only the situation, but also of me.
She uttered but a single word as she looked at me with a malevolent glint in her eyes.
"Strip!"
For a split second I thought about the unsigned contract, and that until I did that part, I was still a free woman, but that silly thought vanished immediately. I knew I had to obey her, for she was so far above me there was no comparison.
My hands began to unbutton my blouse, and then to push it over my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I stepped out of slip-ons that Jamie had put on my feet that morning, and then unbuttoned my slacks and pushed them over my hips. That left me totally naked, since Jamie had not given me any panties to wear when she dressed me.
As my slacks touched the floor, Mistress Pamela gave me another one-word command.
"Kneel!"
And my knees buckled, and then dropped to the floor. I struggled to breathe, and suddenly there wasn't enough air in the room, and I knew that Mistress Pamela was inhaling all of it and that I was going to die, and, and, . . . And then she gave one more command.
"Come!"
My knees shuffled across the carpet, my only focus her exquisite breasts and thick bush that hid the treasure I longed to see, and then I was as close to her body as I could get, and she was pushing her bottom across the cushion of the chair, and then her deliciious crotch was right there in my face, and I heard the most-wonderful word in the English language.
"Lick!"
And I did. I inhaled her wonderful aroma as my tongue worshipped her beautiful vagina, never pausing for even a split-second as she spoke to me in her hypnotic voice.
"I glad you came, little slave. I haven't washed that part of my body in two days, in anticipation of your tongue bathing it. Do you like the taste of my stale piss? Can you smell it on the part you're feeding upon so eagerly? Are you anticipating when I move forward even further, and allow you to lick my anus, which has not been washed for the same number of days? You like that, don't you, little slave? You know deep inside your soul of souls that you were always meant to be my toilet, and today you are going to be given the privilege of serving me in that manner. It's what you want, isn't it, little slave?"
I don't know if I even tried to answer her question, for at that moment she pushed her body even farther forward, and my tongue eagerly sought the prize that was always meant to be its. I was simply lost in the scent, the texture, and most of all the delicious taste of her puckered opening, and I did my best to force my tongue deep inside it, and then to follow with the rest of my body.
At some point in time, seconds or hours later I know not which, I heard her order, "Cease," and I forced my face to draw back from her body. Then, for the first time, my eyes lifted to her face, and I saw her staring down at me with an expression of complete love on her beautiful face.
She reached down to me and she moved back in the chair, and with a strength I would never have guessed she had, she lifted me onto her lap and cradled me there and she kissed my neck and my face and my lips, while her fingers caressed me in every place I had that could drive me crazy with lust.
At last she ceased stimulating me, and spoke her first full sentence since I had entered the room.
"My little slave, I've looked forward to meeting you ever since Jean-Marc first told me about you, more than two years ago. I told him then that I wanted him to use you first, and if I was pleased with your acceptance of pain, then I would assume ownership of your body and your mind.
"Julia sent me the results of your tests yesterday, and based on your being in the 99th percentile of deviancy, as well as your reponse to his showing you the punishment room, I have decided you need to be mine with no delay. I haven't had a slave like you will be since Jean-Marc's mother left me several years ago, and I've missed that very much in my life. Only she could give me the orgasms I deserve to have, and now that I have you, you will give them to me again.
"Now, Jean-Marc has a story to tell you about himself, and at the end of it you will be presented with a contract that, if signed by you, will place you in my power for as long as you shall live. After you sign it, and I'm sure you shall, I will take you through the door that so aroused your curiosity last night, the one behind the punishment room. Once there, I will explain to you every device, every machine, and every tool in it, and how they will be used on your body to extract every bit of the agony I must give you."
Leaving me more stupified than ever before, she then said to my Master, "Proceed, Jean-Marc."
And he began telling me the story of his life, and how Mistress Pamela figured so prominently in it. And I sat unmoving on her lap as she caressed me anew, and I listened, enthralled, to his words.
Continued in Chapter 4
Questions or comments? Please write to me at: sharon_smif@gmx.com
