The New World

Warning:This story is a work of fiction and contains

descriptions of explicit sexual acts between

women.  If this type of content offends you or you are under the age of 18

do not read it.

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The New World

Part 14

(There was no part 13)

A French Connection

Anne looked every inch her forty six years. It was just her looks, she dressed ‘older’.  Tweed suits were a large part of her limited wardrobe. Her hair was worn in a bun, and many people speculated that she’d been born with it in place, so permanently fixed it seemed. She’d never dated or married and was happy to remain a spinster, dedicating her life to her career. She had emerged from her years of education with top grades in her exam results, and these had helped her secure a career within in one of the city of Paris’s top marketing management companies. Having inherited a tidy sum when her parents passed on, she’d brought an exclusive two bed apartment in the nicer districts of the city. There she had lived for ten years plus, alone and quite content. Her days were run to a time table and other residents could set their clocks by her departure for work. She knew she was the butt of sniggered jokes at the office, but she didn’t care. She had an excellent income, was P.A to one of the senior partners, and regularly put over twelve plus hour a day. Her friends were all but nonexistent, but that’s both they way she wanted and liked it.

Sex had never been a part of her life, and she had no desire for it to do so now. She’d had one experience in her teens, and that had been a nasty, dirty event.  Being top of her classes she had been bullied and shunned by her class mates. The exception however was her friend Mary, who was her equal in the class exams. Mary had brokered the friendship and they got on reasonably well. Each day they would walk to and from school together, discussing projects, homework etc. The “Nerds” was the name bestowed upon them by the rest of the school, but it just made them become more insular.

Mary had been one of the first people at school to have their own car, a present from Daddy after her Sixth Year Project on The Rain Forests had won a much deserved prize. Their walks became drives, and as the whizzed past their walking peers, they could smile and look down on their inferiors. It was in the May of their last year that the school entered the Brain of France Quiz scheme, and both of them were natural candidates for the team.  The opening rounds had gone well, and their team came out top of their group. This resulted in their quarter final matches being played away, and once again the Nerd Mobile was their mode of transport. They clinched victory and won through to the semi finals and then the final. This was to be held in one of Versailles Colleges and was the high light of the schools year. The team travelled up by mini bus, minus the two nerds, who made their own way in the Nerd Mobile. It was no real surprise that Anne and Mary carried their team to victory, which in their opinion was “well deserved”. The cup was presented, and the evening was rounded off with a buffet and drinks. Mary managed to secure two glasses of wine and they sipped their illicit drinks and discussed how they had won the trophy single handed.

The wine had gone to Anne’s head and she failed to notice her friends outrageous flirting. They wandered of to the washroom together, and it was on the way back to the hall, that Mary had led her to a deserted class room. The next half hour was to be a nightmare for naive Anne. She had tried to flee the advices, but she found the class room door locked.  Mary and a close friend in a rival team had forced them selves on the reeling virgin. She had been pushed down onto the teacher’s desk, Mary’s warm and moist panties forced as a gag into her mouth, her scream cut off by the thin damp cotton. Their hands had reached under her skirt and torn her panties away, their fingers had roughly explored her ‘private’ parts. They had forced their way into her, and her virginity had been broken.  She was beyond protest as Mary’s tongue lapped at her cunt, and her friend had ridden her, the west moist pussy forced over Anne’s face. The scent filling her nostrils and being pulled deep down into her lungs. Tears had run down her face as she sat on the desk, her T Shirt and bra array, her exposed 'titties' sore and scratched. Her panties discarded on the floor, her cunt sore and abused.  Her two predators walking out of the class room laughing, and not looking back. Their sport taken, their prey dismissed.

Anne had managed dress to some degree of respectability and had hitched a ride back in the mini bus. The other passengers assuming she had drunk too much of the wine and was intoxicated. That event had been her one and only sexual experience. Never again did she harbour any interest in sex, and had spurned any advances by the males who came and went in her work life. Her tweed suits and bun serving as a shield, to warn sexual predators off, to make her less appealing to them. No matter what sex. The experience was blocked out of her mind and in time she would have denied, even to herself, that it had ever happened. She focused her mind on her work and brought a determination that made her both successful and unloved.

She had worked for Mr Howley as his P.A for over ten years, and it was with some unease that Anne watched him reach 59 and retire. She knew her position was secure, but she had no idea who would fill the vacant partnership. She had never worked for a member of her own sex before, so it was with some unease that she was introduced to her new boss, Madam Sharon Straddon. Madam was at least ten years her junior and may have even been in her mid twenties. She was the exact opposite to her P.A. Madam Straddon was slim, long legged, dressed in the height of fashion, was always immaculate in her turn out, used her sexuality and flirted to manipulate her peers. When Madam Straddon entered a room she filled it with her presence. When Anne walked in the wallpaper became her camouflage. But the two worked well as a team, and as the weeks passed Anne formed a respect for her new boss. She would work the 12 hour days she had before and together they were formidable. The Bitch and her Labrador became the office nick name for the new team.

The Kyle report was the companies’ newest contract and it was only natural that the Bitch and her Labrador should be handed it to oversee. It demanded long hours, and was of a complexity that would have daunted to most. The net value of the contract was 8,000,000 Euro and it would, if handled correctly, secure the company a seven figure profit.

The deadline approached and they pulled fourteen hour plus days, but at the stoke of midnight, the files were finished, the figures added, the I’s dotted and the T’s crossed. They had achieved what some considered impossible. Anne went home that night, smiling at what had been achieved, and at the bonus she could now expect when the end of year profits were calculated.

Despite the long day, Anne was in the next day on the chime of eight a.m. She almost smiled to the security guard as she walked through the foyer towards the lifts. This was a good day. The lifts doors slid shut and as she rode up to the 52nd floor she smiled to herself. Life was perfect.

The floor was deserted, but Anne recalled that her colleagues had been awarded a days leave in reward for their efforts. Anne had of course spurned such a weakness and she knew the partners would notice her dedication. She walked across the open plan office towards the door to her domain. The door that opened onto her office, though which admission to Madam Straddon's office had to be sought. She shut her door behind her and hung her tweed coat on the hook, next to the leather coat her boss wore every day to work. She tapped on the door to Madam Straddon's office and marched in. She never waited for the permission to enter. Her boss was sat at her Partners desk, the Kyle report open before her, that wasn’t her way. There was no trace of a smile on her bosses face, as she looked at the spread sheets on her desk.

“Morning” Anne greeted her boss. The blonde haired head slowly raised itself up from the report and looked across at her P.A. No trace of a smile, no words of welcome, just a long cold stare. Anne's own smile evaporated as she wondered what had happened to make her boss look so pissed off. “Did you” Madam Straddon spoke in a soft slow voice that carried a hint of malice “double check the figures on appendix A?”

Anne frowned and had to think which figures that appendix comprised of. Then the penny dropped, “you mean the contract costs?” she asked. The blonde hair nodded, no spoken words being further uttered. Anne felt her blood freeze as she realised that she hadn’t. She’d been told to more than once, but, well the pressure and lack of time, she’d just not managed it. “Do you know that you have cost the company 500,000 Euros in predicted profits, simply by not doing as I told you to” with each word Madam Straddon’s voice increased a level.  Anne felt her face turn shades of red as the sheer horror dawned on her. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have not double checked the figures? Anne collapsed into the chair that sat in front of the desk. “Stand the fuck up” Madam Stratton’s voice commanded at a decibel just below a demented scream. Anne sprung from the chair, sheer terror coursing though her veins. Her world crumbled before her, disgrace, dismissal, ridicule, maybe charges, all floated as scenarios before her. She held back the tears, but her panties under her expensive tweed skirt showed the first signs of her fear, as a small trickle of warm wet urine soaked into the soft cotton fabric. Anne barely noticed as her panties crutch became sodden with the piss of her fear. She just stared at her boss.

Madam Straddon stood to face her P.A, and leant on the desk so she was closer to her fear ridden P.A. “I have to report this to the other Partners, who I know will want an escape goat. Who I know will want to crucify someone, and that my little Tweed Nerd will be you, on that you have my word”. Her face showed no emotion, and the first tears started to break down Anne’s face. “Please, cant we… “She started to plead, but was interrupted by her bosses taunt of “Can’t we what? Change the report, alter the figures, and cook the books?”  Hope rose inside Anne. Maybe that was the answer? After all the report had yet to be published. It wasn’t too late, was it?  “Please Madam Straddon” Anne said, begging for the first time in her 46 years. “Please couldn’t we just change the figures, please” Madam Straddon looked her dour spinster victim up and down, smiling to herself that things had gone better than planned. That a simple amendment to this one private copy of the report was playing dividends, she could feel the flies first struggles as it sensed it was caught in a spiders sticky web. All other copies of the report where correct and flawless, but her terror stricken victim was to horror struck to think clearly. Her mind was in a state of panic that brooked no logic that just submitted itself to what it had been told.

“Maybe I could” Madam Straddon said slowly as if thinking slowly, “maybe, but why should I?” she asked. Anne felt as if someone had thrown her a life jacket, as she was being swept down a torrential river.

”Please” she begged, her make up tear stained, “please” she begged, “I’d do anything, please” she spoke the words that slammed the door to her cage shut. She muttered those immortal words that gave her to Madam Straddon. Words that sealed her fate.

As Anne begged again her Madam walked round the desk and sat on the desks surface, her long legs swinging slowly. “Anything?” she asked as with her left foot she flicked her right foots high heal off. Then she repeated the action with her right foot as she once again asked “anything?”

Anne world had crumbled, and even though the pleading had been spoken unthinking, it was meant. “Yes” she quietly murmured, the tear stains on her face drying to leave long steaks in her makeup. “Yes” she repeated, her eyes cast down.

“Prove it, kneel and” a pause, then “suck my toes” Madam Straddon’s voice carried an authority, that seemed to brook no denial. Anne paused, her mind reeling at the images and memories such a command brought to the fore front of her mind. That time in the class room when she had been ‘taken’ by two Dykes had been a buried memory, one even she had forgotten. Now the doors were unlocked, and it all came tumbling to the fore. She felt her heart break, and the tears run from her cheeks. She weighed her fate in the balance. To deny the command would leave her exposed to all that could be heaped on her by her boss. The humiliation, loss of status, loss of career, the jokes that she would be unable to avoid, and worse, the threat of legal action. The safe world she had so carefully constructed over the years since that night at Mary’s hands, would be shattered, ruined, destroyed. She could not imagine her life without it being how she had built it. To submit, to kneel and kiss the toes would surely not be too bad. That may be Madams only command. Why should Anne assume the worst, it may just be a simple one off humiliation to show her contrition. Then they would work to repair the damage, and her life would resume its course. As she thought she knew she had not choice as one course was beyond her handling and the other would not be so bad. As the conclusion came into being the command was barked once more “kneel and suck my toes”.

The tears started once more, as she bent her knees and dropped to kneel. A smile of pure satisfaction passed over Madam’s face as she saw her slave set her first hesitant path on the road to servitude. A path she had so carefully worked to have in place for her P.A, when the right ammunition was offered to her.

Anne knelt, her tweed skirt rising above her knees, and with her right hand she reached out for the proffered foot. As her hand cupped the nylon encased limb, she felt her tears well up as she silently cried at the humiliation and shame. The scent of the nylon and leather encased foot filled her own senses as she brought the foot to her mouth. She could se Madams perfect red painted nails through the mesh, and the high heel that had until a few minutes ago had cocooned the foot, lay on the floor. Her mind reeled at the action she had been ordered to undertake, the punishment. Yes that was it; this was just a simple form of punishment to allow her to show her contrition. She leant her head in towards the sweat scented foot, and parted her lips.  This wouldn’t be so bad, as the aroma of sweaty foot wrapped itself round her. Her mouth opened to admit the foot, and she felt the nylon caress her lips as the foot entered her proffered mouth. She saw the red meshed nails pass into her mouth and she closed her lips over the foot. She felt herself gagging as the scent now filled every part of her awareness. She sucked on the nylon and her tongue ran its tip along the outline of Madam’s toes in the mesh. As she sucked, she drew the sweaty scent down into herself, and with that scent went her freedom.

Madam pushed the stocking toe into her slut’s mouth, “Suck my foot you whore” her voice gave no room for refusal as Anne sucked on the stocking meshed toes, and as she worshipped, Madam laughed. The little old bitch, the bitch old enough to be her own mother was hers to do with as she pleased. The camera she had set up earlier whirled away, and with each second assured that the sub would submit no matter what. The bitch was close so close to being hers for today, tomorrow and for as long as she wanted her

Anne mouth was filled with the taste of Madam’s foot and with each working of her tongue she felt a tiny piece of her heart break.  As she sucked she looked up to seek pity on the foot owner’s face. Some sign that all was forgiven, but all she saw was a smile, one of pure lust.  Her eyes travel down Madams body and as she her eyes looked up on the two stocking clad knees, she was shocked to see them part. A dark tunnel appeared between the two nylon coated legs, a dark tunnel that widened as the legs parted. Anne wanted to look away, but she was trapped like a deer in car head lights. She knew what was coming, but she couldn’t draw her eyes away. Her mouth filled with a stocking foot, her eyes sought the depth of the tunnel, to see what lurked there. As those legs parted Madam pulled her skirt further up her legs, revealing more of the stockings and the perfect legs enclosed with in them. Anne eyes looked on as the legs parted as far as the skirts hem would permit. But she could see that Madam wore no panties, nor that she was hairy. She could see a smooth mound and a damp patch on the fabric of the skirt on which Madam sat.

Anne eyes looked on, feasting on the sight before her, and her tears stopped. She still felt the shame and humiliation, but a new sensation was added to the feelings coursing through her. Her mind sought to deny it but her stomach was filled with butterflies of anticipation, of desire. Her damp piss stained panties took on a fresh dampness, as the first small signs of arousal showed. In over thirty years sex had been taboo to her, something dirty, shameful disgusting. She had shunned it, and in those years she had lived almost as a nun. Her hands never having the desire or need to seek the pleasures she denied herself. But now feelings she could not control seemed to grow with in her.  As she looked on Madam thrust her mound forward, allowing the merest glimpse of her moist lips appearing. Anne eyes feasted on the moist skin before her, and her foot worship became an act of adoration rather than punishment.

Madam withdrew her foot from Anne mouth, and wound her right hand into her slave’s bun. With gentle but firm guidance she drew the awed eyes closer to her wet pussy. As Anne was guided in between those thighs, new odours assaulted her senses of smell. A musk that excited her, and turned that leak which had seeped into the wet gusset of her panties, into a small flood. As the vision wet glistening skin filled her eyes, part of her wanted to flee at what she knew would happen next. Part of her told her that nothing inflicted on her if she ran from the room would be worse than this. She would still have her dignity, her pride, but as these thoughts entered her mind, her tongue snaked out from her lips, in anticipation of the nectar that awaited her.

The musk of Madams arousal became Anne entire world as her tongue came to with in millimetres of the wet lips which were now visible as Madam slid her mound further forward. “Kiss me there darling” she bid her slave, in a mock act of love. Anne final resolve melted as her tongue finally reached the wetness. She ran the tip along the moisture, and could feel the first tingling as the honey coated her tongue. She had no concept of what was expected of her, but she drew on those old memories to try and please Madam. She sucked a portion of enflamed lip between her lips and sucked into her own wet mouth. She felt the groin ease further forward towards her and a moan escaped between Madam’s lips. A moan of ecstasy as he watched her slave sink further into the new life that awaited her.

Her hands twisted Anne hair and the band holding the bun gave way. The long hair tumbled free, but Anne was unaware of its release. She felt her hair being twisted at their roots, but she could not stop suckling on the wet fold of skin that was between her own lipstick coated lips. She could not stop drinking on the honey that flooded into her mouth. She felt Madams hips buck and then she felt the honey become a torrent. She heard her Madams moans became louder and she felt her entire pussy rise of the sofa as she climaxed. The hands held her face in place as that torrent filled slave’s nostrils and mouth. When Madam’s wild movements finally eased, Anne face was released. She withdrew herself from between those thighs, her face shinny with honey juices. Her mouth full of her Madam’s scent. But as she withdrew humiliation returned to replace the arousal that had been there. She stumbled back on her knees, a moan of horror escaping her lips. How had she permitted this to happen, she was no more than a whore or dyke? She had to escape this insane woman. As she made to stand, Madams right hand took the crown of her head and gently rotated Anne so she could see the P.C monitor. Anne eyes expanded as she saw herself on the screen; saw a replay of her foot worship and of her drinking from the font of her Madam. In that moment the remains of Anne world crumbled she dropped back onto her knees, knowing that any chance of fleeing was now gone for ever. Run away now and she knew that recording would be played in ways that would make her unable to face the world.

Her shoulders slumped as her Madam looked down at her new toy. “Your mine, mine to do with as I wish, as I dicate” the cold chilling voice informed her. Anne bowed further in a submission of surrender. “Now stand before me, so I can see my new slave” she was commanded. As Anne lifted herself of her knees the words ran through her mind like a loop of tape, “slave”.  The terror returned, her arousal a forgotten memory, her knees trembled and the wetness was replaced. Madam looked on as stains of different moisture slowly leaked down slaves tights. Turning the skin flesh a shade darker, and matched by fresh tears. Her slave stood there, make up ruined by tears, her hair a tangled mess and her tights stained in her warm wet piss of fear. Slave’s shoulders shock as the first sob escaped her lips, and with that sob, the piss started to puddle onto the floor in a small lake. A lake of humiliation, of servitude and of her new status in life.

Laughter assaulted her ears and as she looked though her tears she could see Madam was laughing at her. As she looked on a hand sprung out and she felt the slap of a smack as it stung her face. “Stop that crying cunt” Madam’s voice commanded her whore. The sting of that smack lingered as slave sucked back her tears, and fought to stop the crying. “Better. Now strip my precious, I want to see what pleasures, if any you can offer me.”

Her hands shock as slave removed her thick tweed jacket. The tweed suit that had always been a badge of her seriousness, of her brooking no denial in the work place. That had marked her as a cold hearted career woman, a veneer that Madam had seen to be so thin, and one that could be easily broken. The crumpled tweed jacket feel to the floor and her calf length skirt followed in be discarded, as she stepped out of it. Slave stood there, in fresh piss stained skin toned pantyhose. The tears of her piss ran down the mesh in small streams to form into a small lake at her feet. Her ‘sensible’ flat shoes had long fallen of her own sweaty feet. Under the tights she wore a pair of white cotton briefs, this equally stained in her humiliation. A humiliation she sought to cover with her hands as they shielded the wetness from Madam’s site. Above the pantyhose waist bad was a flat tummy which was toped by an equally unflattering matching bra. Her figure belied her image of cold hearted and Madams guess had been right. Under the dour image lay a body that could easily be moulded and dressed to make it one of desire. One that she knew her contacts in Quadi would welcome into the fold once she had enjoyed the fruits of her virgin whore, sub, slave. Call her what she wished, Anne was no longer an independent person. She only existed to serve, to serve her mistress. A fact that aroused similar feelings in both the occupants of that moment, feelings that stirred and excited both. But that in one mingled with fear.

I seem unable to wind this tale to an end so maybe here is a good place as Anne stands there vulnerable and ready to descend into the pit of servitude. There is more to come, so bear with me, it won’t be long. Enjoy and as ever feed back most welcome.

To my two subs, Anne this is for you as your emails pleases and excites me. You are a beautiful French woman, whose emails are ones to inspire and I look forward to many more exchanges.  To Lauren, you have disappointed me, I grant you’re eager to serve, but pay more attention and do as I command and maybe we can come to a contract of servitude. One that will help you learn your place in life. Maybe?

Mistress Sharon