Date: Thu, 11 Sep 2008 07:01:36 -0700 (PDT)

From: Sharon Pinder <pin121@yahoo.com>

Subject: 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.

Author's Note:

This story is the property of the author. It can be

downloaded for personal reading pleasure or sending

to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them at your

own site, please contact the author for permission.

Copyright 2008 Sept, All Rights Reserved.

                              THE NEW WORLD

                                 Part 1

Now don't get me wrong. I am a patient woman. I will queue with the best of them. But Jane and I had been standing in this damned queue for all but an hour. Jane, my daughter, was just as fed up as me, and had started to moan. Hell I had been tutting and stamping my foot way before she had asked "how much longer would be we be stood here?"

Enough was enough. A six hour flight from the states had left us both

tired; we had reclaimed our luggage and were just waiting to clear

immigration. It seemed a life time between each shuffle forward. Damn it I was an American citizen and no third rate country had the right to make us wait.

I turned to my daughter, who had once again become absorbed in here I Pod,and with mime and gestures told her to keep our place in the queue. She nodded and then blanked me out as is the way with all teenagers who must suffer their parents.

I stepped out of the queue and walked along its length as it wound its way round the bend in the corridor. The head of the queue was constricted to pass between two desks, at which sat female uniformed officials. They were processing a family group. To the left of the desks stood a solitary figure, who judging by her attire I took to be someone in charge. She was wearing a kaki coloured uniform, which comprised a short skirt, military blouse, a forage cap, plus boots that reached to her knees. Her legs were encased in dark nylon. She, I hoped, would be the woman to explain how much longer we must wait in the stifling humidity.

As I walked towards her, I wished I had dressed a little more sensibly for this heat. The skirt and blouse were man made, and combined with the stockings, I was hot sticky and somewhat sweaty. The officer looked up at me, a scowl changed into a smile. This was a good omen, she obviously realised I was not a woman to be trifled with.

"Excuse me" I said, coming to a stop in front of her, my arms folded under my bosom "but we have been queuing for a lie time, and I wonder if you have any idea how much longer it will be before." She smiled and interrupted me. "American?" she asked.  I smiled and confirmed I was. That's seemed to make her smile widen. "I must apologise, but security has been stepped up. However" and with her right hand she opened the door that she had stood guard over "if you step this way I am sure we can" Now it was my turn to interrupt "find some in charge" and with a sarcastic smile I stepped through the door.

The room comprised one window which I took to be a one way mirror. It

allowed me to see the poor suckers still queuing. The room had two doors one through which I stepped and another on the opposite wall. The room was empty except for a table and a chest of drawers. The table looked as if it was bolted to the floor and covered in a black non reflective material. Soon I would come to know this rubber surface all to well.

As I took the room in, I heard the woman step through the door and shut it behind her. As that door shut the other one opened and two women soldiers entered, shutting their door as well. I felt a little intimidated, which for me was a new sensation. Something wasn't right. I swivelled to face the officer I had been talking to, and saw her smile had lost its warmth. Her eyes seemed to not radiate friendliness, but a new sensation. One I couldn't place for a moment. Then the penny dropped. It was lust. I could feel panic rising from deep inside me. Jane was standing in the queue, by herself while her mum was in a room with a lustful uniformed woman. I was going to apologise, then sweep past her and return to my place in the

queue. Once out of the airport one call the American embassy! Before I could open my mouth the two soldiers crossed the room and pinioned me round by the arms. I looked them in the face only to see the same sensation in their eyes.  Lust! I felt myself panic, what had I got myself into? I could feel the warm wetness of pee seeping into my panties crutch as I started to panic. The warm damp cotton soaking the seepage up! "Please I am an American" but my sentence was brought to an abrupt end as the offer pushed me in the small of my back. I stumbled forward between the two soldiers who were holding me and crashed into the table. The impact forced me to collapse over it, my face sinking into the table surface, and finding to my surprise a hole into which it dropped. Two hands pushed my feet forward and I felt the cold steel of the table legs touch my legs. What the fuck was going on? Two clicks and I found I was unable to move my ankles any more. Almost as if I had been handcuffed to the table! Impossible, not in this day and age! Yet I knew that is what had happened.

I tried to stand up but I was unable to get the leverage. The two soldiers stepped round the table and each took one arm and handcuffed them to the table's two remaining legs. "Welcome my American friend to our country. We know what you filthy Americans are like and you must pass our customs inspection" the officer said, a laughter filling her voice. "Please no" I begged, the pee soaked crotch of my panties long forgotten as the panic took over. "Please" I said, tears seeping from my eyes, my make up starting to run. My composure

had gone; I was just a terrified woman. More terrified when I felt the officer's hands caress my skirted bottom. But that sensation was replaced as one solider stooped under the table and as I begged, slot a small rubber ball like gag into my mouth. I was trussed like a chicken. Exposed and vulnerable! Two terms that would soon take on a new meaning for me!

The officer stepped back and the chest of drawers removed a pair of

scissors. My next sensation was the sound of material yielding to the

blades. As the scissors travelled up from my skirts hem parting the

material and exposing my nylon encased panties to the officer's gaze. The wetness from my panic had seeped down the top of the nylon, discolouring them, and the white panties also showed signs of discolouring. The skirt parted into two parts and I felt it slip between me and the table and be yanked away.

I mumbled against the gag, tears now running freely. Hands treated my

blouse to the same fate as my skirt and I lay there spread eagle on the examination table, dressed in nothing but my bra and piss stained panties and stockings .

The officer stepped up behind me and I could feel her hands reach to my bra and that free to. Then her hands reached under my squashed tits and seek the nipples. A solider knelt and opened two small circular holes in the surface on which I lay. The hands holding my tits pinched each nipple between sharp finger nails as they were forced through the holes. Once each nipple was through and hanging down, the solider fixed a small sharp clip to each nipple. I felt the claws sink in and a throbbing pain fill each nipple. A pain that felt warm and not quiet as bad as I would have imagined it would.

Behind me hands stroked my panties, caressing them. Each movement slowly getting lower and then one hand slid between my spread legs. "Please be patient" the officer ordered me "while I carry out an inspection" Horror filled me as I felt the fingers against the wet cotton. A finger eased its way under the cotton and found the source of my wetness. I felt myself being invaded, a finger seeking admission to the one of the most private of holes. I felt my self being parted and the wetness invaded. A wetness that hadn't diminished, but had been replaced by a new source! I felt my body

betray its self as pee seepage gave way to an arousal. My god how could this be happening? He fingers slid in eased by my wet pussy. One finger, two, and I closed my eyes hoping that I wasn't betraying my awakening.

A false hope, as her fingers filled me. I lay there spread eagle, naked, over a table, being invaded by a horny official, the outside world oblivious to my fate as I glimpsed normality on the other side of that mirror. My teenage daughter abandoned and vulnerable, on her own in that queue!  What was her fate?  What was I becoming? What else awaited me at the hands of these customs

inspections?

This is a new subject for me, so I would appreciate any feed back. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did penning it.

Sharon

pin121@yahoo.com

The New World

Part 2

Jane stood in the queue, lost in her IPod. Her mum had been gone awhile now and slowly the queue shuffled forward. As if what ever it had been held up for had finally happened. With each shuffle Jane neared the bend in the corner. But she barely noticed, as she also hardly noticed the sounds from her ear pieces. Her mind was else where. To be exact, back at school. At first she had hated boarding school. The food was awful and the school rules stifling. Plus she had to share a dormitory with a dozen other girls her age. She’d been used to her own room at home, and now she had no privacy. A shyness and innocence the other girls soon noticed. Jane hated getting changed in front of them and would go out of her way to dress and undress when the dorm was empty. But she couldn’t always get away with it, and she got ribbed mercilessly.

The bed next to hers was occupied by a blonde girl, of the same age, called Denise. She was the one person in the room Jane could call a friend.        In fact Denise would chat to her and even compliment her on her choice of clothes and underwear. Or lingerie as she called it. A word Jane had never heard before, and one she found very chic.

She did notice after a few months that Denise seemed to spend a lot of her time with another girl, Sue. They were, outside of lessons, all but inseparable. They would eat at the same table and even go to the local village together, holding, as most girls do, hands.

Lesbianism is a term Jane had never heard of. Hell the facts of life were all but taboo at home. She wondered what it would be like to actually kiss someone, to have a boy friend. She had seen her mum and dad kiss and that set her mind wondering. The weird thing was that when ever Jane lay in bed thinking it over, it was always Denise she saw. She knew her mum would be horrified so she kept such images close to her heart but that didn’t stop a warm feeling of forbidden fruits nestling inside her. But all these thoughts were something she kept locked deep away, and they never passed her lips.

It was the Friday of sports day; she was cutting through the grounds, a short cut to the dorm house. She ducked through the bushes and scurried along the lawn. As she rounded the corner she heard voices. If she was caught here, when she should be out on the sports field yelling and cheering… Slowly she peeked round the hedges corner and was surprised to see Denise and Sue. They were face to face, talking quietly. Almost whispering, their faces so close, they almost touched. Then Denise closed that gap and their lips touched. They were kissing! Not just kissing but like her parents, Plus Denise’s hands were cupping sues bottom and they seemed go be pulling Sue closer.

Jane was transfixed. The thoughts she had harboured in her mind seemed to have become reality. She stood still, hardly daring to move as she watched the two girls kiss. In the distance the school bell sounded, and they broke apart, running along the path, towards her, hand in hand. Jane just had time to retreat round the corner and appear as she if she had been walking along the path, when Denise and Sue rounded the comer. They looked at her, smiled, and then ran past towards the school buildings.

After this Jane spent as much of her time as she could ‘spying’ on Denise. It was amazing what she now noticed. How often they would be alone, hold hands, and sit together in class. She even saw Denise run her fingers along Sue’s leg under the desk one day and that night alone in her bed she replayed the images, with herself in the role of Sue. Her fingers exploring her own body, making her wet and bring her to a state of arousal. A sensation that was  becoming the norm now, when lights were out. These images seemed to bring her latent sexuality alive, and her images became more intense.

She so much wanted to be more than friends with Denise and Sue, but her shyness made that a barrier she couldn’t seem to break through.

The queue rounded the comer, and she could see the two desks ahead. Where was her dammed mum? Jane’s thought return to school. It was about a month after the garden discovery that Jane found one night she just couldn’t get back to sleep. She lay there, replaying in her mind what she had seen….shuffle shuffle…what would it like to be to kiss Denise? Her mind would not be still so she could fall asleep…shuffle shuffle….Then she heard movement across the dorm. A shadow moved silently towards her. She froze, pretending to be asleep but peering through slitted eyes. The figure passed close to her bed, and then she heard bedding being moved. She watched as Sue, as she assumed that was who it was, slipped under Denise’s bedding. The next half hour was a true awakening for Jane as she watched the two girls be lovers. She watched as Sue kissed Denise breasts and then as she buried her head deep between Denise’s legs. Jane’s own pussy becoming wetter and wetter.The butterflies coming alive and surrendering to her fingers  own exploration. It was with lips clamed tight that Jane came.  He mind seemed to explode with feelings and new images. An awakening that left her feeling alive and her finger tips caressing her tingling and wet flesh.

It was ages after Sue had slipped back to her own bed that Jane finally got to sleep. That’s nights events became her nightly thoughts, and with each retelling in her mind, the fantasy expanded in range. But the end of term had come and now here she was with her mum, on some boring holiday. Where was the stupid cow?

The queue had moved forward quite a bit and she could see the desks were almost upon her. A large tinted mirror covered on wall but she could see little though it except some shadowy figures. Jane finally reached the desks. What should she do now? The solider looked up and seemed puzzled, that Jane was alone. Jane tried to explain that her mum had gone off ages ago and had not yet come back. Dawn broke over the soldiers face and she pressed a buzzer on her desk. The door to the left of the mirror opened and another solider walked towards them. Were all the officials here female? She crossed to Jane and smiled at her. “You seeking your mum? Yes?” she asked. Jane nodded and the solider beckoned her over to the mirror. “I am sorry but with out your mum you will have to wait” Jane was told. “Please stay here” she said as she slipped back through the door. Jane tried to peer through the glass. Now she was closer she could see a bit more easily. She could make out shapes through the bronze tinted glass. There seemed to be three people and a table... Not much else to see, they were in a group looking at something on the table, chatting and one was touching it.

Jane looked round. The queue was on the last person and once she had been processed the hall would be empty of all but the officials and Jane. The last person cleared the desk, and with that the two officials at the desks stood and took their leave. She was now alone in a deserted hall in a strange county. How could her mother do this to her, she fumed to her self. Jane paced round the hall. Nothing much to see. She looked over the desks. Just papers and a phone. She looked round once more, and this time noticed a small panel to the right of the mirror. She walked over, curious. It comprised two buttons. One red, one green.

Now what is it with buttons? Jane ignored them or tried to. But she could hear them calling. After five minutes the temptation was too great. Maybe just one button. She pressed the green one. Nothing happened. Oh well. Maybe the red?

Then she noticed a change in the mirror. It was no longer tinted. It had become a window. A window to what? She would have a quick look, and then push the red button, which she assumed would tint it again. Jane turned to look and in that moment her life changed. There were as she had vaguely seen three officials, but bent over the table was a naked woman. Stockings and with panties round her ankles. One of the soldiers was stood to one side, allowing Jane to see her hand buried deep into the victim’s pussy. She was working away at it. Jane watched, the red button forgotten. The solider with drew her hand, and stepped to one side. Jane watched as a second solider stepped up and knelt down behind the tied woman and cocking her head at an awkward angle, she could see her tongue starting to lick the exposed woman cunt.

Jane could feel her own butterflies returning, her own pussy becoming wet. The sensations of those nights in her bed returned, but stronger and harder to control. She resisted the temptation to touch her self, but had to settle for squeezing her thighs. That was no cure, but it helped the feelings. The desire to be that woman’s finger, to feel the flesh, to taste it, to explore the tables sacrifice.  She stood there for what seemed like ages, and failed to hear the door open. “You like?” a voice said. Jane all but jumped and looked round. The officer now stood beside her. “You like?” she asked again, smiling. Jane hadn’t noticed how attractive she was, hell how attractive al the officials were. She couldn’t speak, but managed a nod and another squeeze of the thighs. The woman’s hand took hers, and Jane watched as the red button was pressed. The mirror retinted and her view lost. The hand then gently led her into that room. The door shut behind her, but she didn’t notice, her eyes fixed on the scene laid out before her. A woman handcuffed to the table. All but naked, and another woman’s tongue exploring her. The victim unable to resist or avoid the exploration. Jane hand never felt more turned alive even when watching Denise and Sue.

The officer stood close behind Jane. Her body pressed against up close. She could feel the officer’s breath on her neck and held her breath as she felt hands reach round and cup her breast. Jane slowly breathed out as the hands fondled her breasts, teasing the nipples as they became evident, through her thin summer clothing.  Her head was gently guided round until the woman’s lips could reach hers. She kissed virgin Jane slowly, tenderly, and parted Jane’s lips with the moist tip of her tongue. Jane felt their tongues tip and she could feel a moan deep with in her welling up.

The hands that moments before had sought her breasts now caressed her body, reaching down to stroke the dampness that they knew was encased in thin cotton and denim. The fingers pressed into the material and she could feel the dampness becoming a torrent. Then the hands slowly reached up, took hold of her once more, slowly rotating her and slowly turned her to face the woman. They kissed once more, before she was slowly undressed. Her T-shirt lifted over her head, her bra encased breasts now visible, and with it her nipples even more prominent. The woman knelt and Jane felt her sandals then jeans being stripped away from her.

She stood in a room with three women and a bound and gagged semi naked woman. Wearing nothing but a bra trying to restrain her engorged nipples and a pair of visibly damp cotton panties. “Your beautiful” the officer whispered “and we want to help you, to teach you” Her hands were taken once more and she was gently led to the table. The kneeling woman stool up and stepped to one side. Jane could see the bound woman closer now and she had never wanted to touch something more in her life. “Please” Jane was told. How did they know of Jane’s fantasies, of her secret tastes? Jane could not imagine but she slowly reached one finger out, to touch the exposed flesh of the tables offering. She could feel herself shaking as her finger neared that perfect rounded bottom. Gently, shyly her finger made contact. She could feel the skin and she stoked it, bring the rest of her fingers in contact with the softness. She slowly circled the soft buttock and she watched as the skin came alive with goose bumps, and she hard a soft moan coming form the bound woman’s mouth. Slowly in case she woke up she ran the finger down the buttock crack. The holding the buttock skin in her hand she slid it between the legs. She could feel hairs, damp hairs as her hand continued past the top of the legs and deeper into a wet warm hairy spaced. She felt the woman try to press herself against her hand. She heard her moan, and her hand pressed further in, seeking what she knew lay ahead of her finger tips. The honey pot. Her fingers seemed to be slipping deeper into the wetness and she felt the exposed and aroused flesh of the woman’s lips.  She caressed them with her fingers, and the wetness allowed her fingers to slip between and part them. She felt the wet lips slide past her fingers as she dipped into a warm and fleshy pit of juices.

The officer parted Jane’s lips to slip one of her fingers into Jane’s willing mouth. She had her first taste of another woman’s honey.  A taste she had never dreamt of or imagined. But it made her want to suckle on the finger as her own finger explored the tastes source.

The victim moaned as the fingers dived deeper into the wet pit.  She sought entrance to the woman’s pussy, her first pussy. The woman moaned and pressed herself onto Jane’s fingers. The woman begged against the restraint of her gag. The voice, if Jane hadn’t been so aroused would have been familiar, but she was beyond that. Jane just wanted to do all the things she had seen Sue do to Denise. Jane wanted to bury her finger deep into that honey pot, to bury her face into the wet folds of the pussy and to inhale deep the scent or an aroused pussy. She wanted to sup from the fountain that her hand was deep inside. Jane’s fingers sank slowly deeper into the wet haven; she barley noticed fingers unclasp her bra, her nipples being teased and pinched gently between sharp finger nails. She barely noticed the other soldiers undressing until they all stood in stockings, panties and bra. She hardly noticed as her knees sank to the floor and she inhaled the scent, as she moved forward to bury her tongue, nose and face deep into that warm wet mass of flesh, juices and scent. A pussy she had yet to realise was that of her mother. Her mother, who like her daughter, had become a lesbian at the hands of the three semi naked women who watched on. What else awaited her? Jane didn’t know but she could fantasise.

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.

Author's Note:

This story is the property of the author. It can be

downloaded for personal reading pleasure or sending

to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them at your

own site, please contact the author for permission.

Copyright 2008 Sept, All Rights Reserved.

The New World

Part 3

How had I ended up in this situation, was the thought that crossed mind? How? A respectable married woman with a teenage daughter. A daughter that was abandoned in the queue outside this room. Or maybe those were the thoughts that should have crossed my mind. If I was as respectable as I had once imagined. But now I was stripped naked, chained to a table, and my pussy was for the second time in the past hour being subjected to deviant pleasures. My mind had screamed in protest at the invasion of those fingers at into my most private areas. A part of me that had until now, known only the clumsy performance of my inadequate husband. His sad efforts to bring satisfaction to our sex life’s had always been…well had been inadequate. But I had accepted that as the norm, it’s what sex was about.

My protests had been audible against the gag, and had been as loud as I could manage. But how does one prevent the entrance of two fingers, a fist and more into ones pussy, when it was exposed for the entire world to see? How does one deny to the tongue that sucks on your wetness, that you’re not aroused?

But my protests had all too soon been shown to be lies as my body betrayed me. I had tired to shut my mind against the feelings I was discovering. I had tried, and failed. The first slight of my engorged lips and the wet pussy from which they hung betrayed me. Even I had come to accept the fact that these feelings were closer to how I had imagined sex to be. The pain from the nipple clamps, the roughness to which my pussy was subjected had all set my mind racing, my stomach tingling and the pain had become part of the arousal I felt. I was a lesbian, more than that; I was a lesbian whore, a play thing for these women. I should want to escape, but those desires had been replaced, by stronger ones. Ones that wanted the pain never to stop, wanted to have the violation of my body increased. I wanted to be the whore they called me.

The ‘pleasures’ had stopped, but the throbbing had not diminished. The were clamps now pressed into my erect nipples and my pussy felt as if it had been stretched to breaking point... I could feel the soreness but the wetness did not diminish.  I heard the door open for a second time and instead of one person enter, I heard two set of feet.

I strained to hear what was happening, but my ears told her little. I heard the officer say. “Your beautiful and we want to help you, to teach you” followed by “Please”. Then a pause, before new fingers started to seek admission to my deep wet pussy. The fingers were less experienced and the fit not so tight. A softer touch, but this did not lessen the sensations that coursed through my body. The fingers were replaced with a tongue, one that was equally inexperienced. But that matter for nothing, the fact that someone was making use of my pussy was all I wanted.

The tongue sought admission to the depths of my pussy. It sucked on the lips, and gently nibbled.  Other hands reached under the table and squeezed on the clamps. My nipples felt as if they were being torn from the very flesh, but this just increased the betrayal that my body was sharing with these women. I felt hands remove the gag, any fear of my screams, were gone. I no longer objected, I wanted more.

I felt my face lifted clear of the hole and before me stood a vision of eroticism, that I could see from the waist down. Her skin was slightly tanned and flawless. But it wasn’t that which caught my eyes, it was the large phallic object that stood proud from between her legs. It was held there by straps, and seemed impossible in size. Her hands parted my lips and I felt the plastic cock being slid into my mouth. “Suck it you whore, suck it as if it was your husband’s sad dick” Protests were not even considered as I obeyed.  I could taste scents, strange new erotic scents. Once that I had no idea originated from a cocktails of these women’s wetness, smeared over the cock.  I sucked on the cock as if it was part of her; I wanted to please, because if I pleased then they would fuck me all the more.

The inexperienced tongue stopped and I heard whispers. But this time I could not make out the words. But I felt the effect they created as the tongue returned to my lips. They were sucked in deep, and stretched. Stretched until I felt they would be torn from my body. Then I felt a sharp pain as teeth were clamped onto them and bitten down hard. My wetness had before this been nothing to the flood it now became. I sucked harder on the cock, my senses awash with the scents it filled my mouth with. As hands held my hair by the fist full and bent my head back, I felt as if it was coming away at the roots, but these additional pains merely made me want more.

The teeth stopped and my lips were allowed to wilt back to a semblance of what they had once been. I heard the biter stand and her hands take hold of my bottom. They parted the cheeks and I felt a cold breeze drift across my anus. What next? I had fantasies, but would they be close to reality.

I could feel a hard rounded plastic object being teased around my hole. I felt its tip being eased in; bringing a pain I had not known before. But just as it filled my mind, it eased. A pause, then the invasion was back and with it the pain. But as before it withdrew, just after it had entered a tiny bit further. Each invasion was deeper; until I felt the widest part pass my anus holes entrance and it slide it fully. I felt my anus filled and I heard laughter as a young voice, one that was somehow familiar declared my ass as being “plugged”.

The cock was withdrawn from my mouth, but the hold on my hair was retained. A new tip appeared a longer and a more flexible strap on. Its tip originating from a more slender frame. But still smeared with the juices, which had become a cocktail of eroticism for me.  I had little time to admire it, as once again it was placed for in position for me to suck on.

The hold on my hair was increased, as the chains holding my hands were loosened. This allowed me to arch my neck higher and look up. As I suckled I saw small but erect nipples come into view. Who ever the mistress was she was young enough to be my…daughter? My god, I was being made to serve a mistress in her teens. I felt guilty that I did not feel ashamed. But fresh feelings coursed through me as I sucked hungrier and eager to please. I could imagine this strap on was an extension of Jane. I had given her no thought, as I had tried to please, tried to serve. My eyes travelled further past a set of freckles that looked familiar. I craned my neck once more, almost until it felt like it would snap. Saw past the freckles and past the neck, and my eyes brought a new shock to my system. My teenage Mistress was Jane, my sweet daughter. I was sucking on a strap on that originated in her pussy and extended into my pussy mouth. She smiled “hello mum”. But I was beyond any level of conventionality. I was now truly a lesbian submissive and I just hoped my daughter’s sweet beautiful pussy was as wet and as aroused as mine.

I had discovered my place in the world; I merely wanted to serve, to please, and to be a true lesbian submissive whore to my sweet so beautiful Jane. 

I am truly amazed at the emails I am receiving and love reading them. It since to learn that my tastes are not restricted to me alone. Please don’t stop and as ever feed back is appreciated. Thank you.

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.

Author's Note:

This story is the property of the author. It can be

downloaded for personal reading pleasure or sending

to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them at your

The New World

Part 4

English Literature was one of the most boring subjects in Jane’s school life. But her dad had persuaded her, what a fascinating subject it was. He was wrong, god he was so wrong! The teacher for some reason today, was late, which was a blessing. If he took much longer, there would be no time for the actual lesson. That had to be a good thing.  The class comprised four girls, including Jane, which showed how dull the subject was considered among the sixth formers. Jane sat quietly on here own, across from the other three; she was taking the chance to catch up on same late homework. The others were equally bored and had been mucking around for the last ten minutes.

Jane’s mind was working out the intricacies of ‘U shaped valleys', and other glacial terms, when she heard the girl’s laughter increase. She looked up at them all sat in a row. The middle girl was being taunted at the ladder in her tights. One of the girls pocked a finger into the run and the wearer twisted her leg away, claiming they were her last pair. As she turned her legs towards the third girl she found a fresh set of hands trying to increase the ladders length. The victim squealed in mock fright as her ladder lengthened and a hole appeared in the thin material. That seemed to be the cue for an all out assault and the other two girls set about shredding the holed tights.

Jane sat there agog as she watched her first cat fight. She watched as the tights were reduced to shreds and attempts made to remove them. Jane watched, transfixed, U shaped valleys forgotten. She watched, slowly becoming aroused. Feeling the first tingle of excitement and wetness deep within her. She watched as with a flourish the tights were torn off and the girls legs were laid bare, as was the crutch of her white panties, as her legs flew apart in response to the tights being dragged off. Jane's eyes expanded and her wetness increased as she saw the panties crutch and a small stain that hinted that the victim was also aroused. Jane squeezed her legs together and felt an arousal that left her mind spinning and her pussy alive.

After the lesson had ended, hell it had never begun, she sought privacy in the toilet stalls. Where her mind replayed what she had seen and her fingers encouraged her arousal. But her imagination took the events further, and she found herself entering a new world of fantasies. One where girls were abused humiliated and assaulted by their own sex. A world that over the next few months she would come to realise was that of female domination. 

Evenings spent feigning school work on her lap top brought her to web sites and fresh images. She discovered bondage, spanking, humiliation, golden showers, nipple clams, butt plugs, older women, lesbianism, and submissiveness. Her nightly spectacle of Denise and Sue became, in her mind one where they both served Mistress Jane. A fantasy but one that Jane knew she could never reasonably expect to become reality.

Now she found that reality had become fantasy and all her dreams now lay before her, as a possibility. She had experienced the taste of a woman’s juices, she had explored butt plugs and nipple clamps, and she had watched as a submissive whore had paid homage to her phallic toy. But the sweetest thing, the fact that made her arousal almost beyond tolerance, was that the submissive whore was her dear sweet mother. The woman who was the pillar of the church. Who had only ever had one lover, dad, and who was now begging to suckle her daughter’s wet pussy! Who wanted nothing more than to serve and who had submitted to the whims of her peers? A wimp that had been, brought her to the world of lesbianism to the world of servitude, and to the feet of her sweet but not so innocent daughter, Mistress Jane.

Mummy, Jane smiled at the thought, had been released from her bondage; She now knelt at the feet of her daughter. Her eyes like that of a puppy, looking up and wanting to be noticed. Her nipples were squeezed into to nipple clamps, and small bells and weights hung from them. When the whore moved her bells jingled, declaring her submissive and servile. Her wet lips were also clamped and she felt the weight of the clamps pull the delicate pieces of skin down and stretch them. Her mouth was filled with a ball gag which was secured by buckles at the rear of her head. Her long lush hair had been cut short, untidily and roughly, making her looks like a tramp, as much as she was a whore. Her hands were handcuffed and she had retained her but plug, into which a vibrator had been slipped. One that now stretched her anal pussy and buzzed in a way that she could not ignore. Her pussy had been abused and now was filled by the largest toy to date. Once this was removed, fisting her would no longer take any effort. Her neck bore a choke collar, studded and with small spikes, which faced inward, pressing against her necks skin. Her make up had run, long since been smeared with her tears. Tears of pain, arousal and also ones that showed her new status in the world.

Mistress Jane had also changed. Both within herself and her outward appearances. She was no longer the timid school girl but was dressed as befitted her status. Boots with impossible high heels, topped by dark hold-ups that showed her legs off to perfection. Her pussy was encased in a black leather thong, which entered the crack of her buttocks. Allowing the whore, as she trotted behind to see her daughter’s unblemished buttocks, to stare but not to touch. Her body was dressed in black leather Basque and she also wore a collar, but this one held no spikes, it just helped enhance her long slim neck. In one hand she held a riding crop and in the other hand she held a leash that was fastened to the whore’s collar.

Mistress Jane smiled at her friends, the ones who had broken her mother and offered her the whore. Jane tugged on the leash and as the collar round whores neck contracted, spikes bit into mummy’s neck. “Come along bitch” Mistress commanded, and she strode back through the door which they had entered such a long time ago. The young Mistress and her whore walked out into the entrance lobby, and when the whore pace slackened, the ridding crop would leave red welts on the exposed skin of mummy’s legs and buttocks. Jane strode out into the airports main foyer, into a world to which she now belonged.

The cavernous space was filled with so many whores, much like her own. All leashed, all trotting along behind their mistresses, all chained and submissive. Jane paused and looked around. A smile crossed her face as she surveyed the scene before her. It was all she had imagined, when she proposed to mummy that they holiday her. On the sun kissed beaches and blue waters she had lied. But she had been believed, why not, how ones own daughter be so warped?

She watched as women old enough to be her grandmother, young enough to be her older sister, sad enough to be a mother and impregnated by men, was led around by mistresses her age. This world was dual sex, and she saw sissies dressed in garb from school girl, to maids, to just lingerie were led by the leash as they to trotted behind their betters. She could see slaves being squeezed into small cages at the baggage check in and sent along the conveyor belt for loading into planes holds. There was a series of stocks, into which were chained submissives. Some were labelled for sale; some were merely stored there while their betters travelled with out them. Some were there for rent, but all we gagged, and all whore clamps and chains. Plus of course all were shaven and naked. A crocodile of unbroken yet drugged slaves were led across the foyer for transport to the markets.

Jane smiles as she walked across the lobby. She tied her whore to a secure fixing, located next to the phone boxes. All calls, such as the one she was about to make were of course free. Jane had so many friends she felt could benefit from this enlightened world. Starting with her own grandmother, her father, who had always been such a wimp and then maybe her sister as well? Both would make fine admissions to her stable. Then once the call was made, she would find herself a taxi, put her baggage, sorry her whore, in the boot, and then set off to the hotel. She was tired after the last few hours and needed to be washed,  dressed and then she would climb into bed, where she would dream such dreams, and make plans to welcome her family to the new world and stock her stables for her.

I hope you have enjoyed this tale, the tights scene was for real and I witnessed it as a girl, so just had to share it with you. Once again feed back welcome.

Date: Tue, 28 Sep 2008 03:06:04 -0700 (PDT)

From: Sharon Pinder <pin121@yahoo.com>

Subject: the new world part 2

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.

Author's Note:

This story is the property of the author. It can be

downloaded for personal reading pleasure or sending

to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them at your

own site, please contact the author for permission.

Copyright 2008 Sept, All Rights Reserved.

The New World

Part 5

“Congratulations Miss Farrell, you are the winner of a free all expenses paid holiday”. It had been a lousy day at work and I had to admit this was the best bit of news I had for ages.  I had been dumped my Carlos, my Latino lover boy last week. Life had gone down the pan from then. Ok she wasn’t the smartest pencil in the box, but he scored full marks between the sheets, or even on top of them! He had dumped me for some new conquest and I had to admit, I missed his attention, if you get my drift!

I’d only been home five minutes when the phone rang, and from here my day took a U turn. I had never won anything in my life, so this had to be a good omen.  Not only was it a free holiday, but it was overseas, in my own villa and would come complete with sun, sand and plenty of alcohol. Not bad. Ok I was sceptical at first, to many of these scams around, but tickets can’t lie, but they had arrived as promised.

I had never heard of Quadi, but some surfing on my lap top and I think I had found heaven. Tropical beaches, stunning hotels, and nice and safe for us tourists. Zero crime. You could leave your villa door unlocked and you would be safe. Sound to good to be true, and I had two entire weeks there, free! I had to admit I had some trouble getting in depth details on the place, and it had closed borders up until a year ago. Now it welcomed the select, to quote their Ministry of Pleasures. Hell even that sounded better than Whitehall’s Ministry of Tourism.

So I had for once really landed on my feet. I took the excuse and spent the entire week before hand shopping. Hell a girl has got to have an excuse sometimes! Plus if I wanted some fine bronzed cock between my sheets, or legs! Don’t get me wrong I am a nice girl, I am no tart. But I do enjoy my pleasures, and a fine shaped and muscle man was my idea of leisure. My sister had proudly announced she was gay when she hit sixteen, but sorry that’s not my idea of fun. Totally gross. A smooth, erect, nicely lubricated with pre cum cock in my mouth. As I say no tart, but neither a prude nor a dyke.

The flight was scheduled to depart from some god forsaken rural airfield in Kent at 3.00 a.m Saturday morning, which was a pain in the arse, but hell for a free holiday!  I was requested to book in an hour before hand and I was a good girl. As I entered the terminal two blonde trolley dolly’s smiled and greeted me. I say trolley dolly, who ever designed the airline uniform must have been a refugee from 1940’s Germany.  Thigh length black PVC boots, a short black mini skirt, and legs encased in dark tights. The top half of the uniform was a short cropped tailored jacket and blouse. The jacket in black and seemingly made of PVC as well?  Maybe on borders of kinky, but if they can manage a tray bearing cool iced drinks, who cares a damn.

The terminal foyer was crowded with my fellow prize winners. Couples, singles of both sexes and all ages. But I couldn’t complain every guy I looked at was fit. Maybe some were a bit on the old side or to young, but not one ugly one between them. I also noticed the same with the women and girls. The beautiful sect, home from home!

Check in was efficient and smooth. My cases vanished off into the darkness, and I hoped that unlike my last package deal I would see them again soon.  My ticket processed and I was advised that my flight was on time and we would be boarding from gate number two. Hell this airport had more than one gate?  No longer luggage encumbered I made my way towards the designated gate.

I picked myself a seat by the gates doorway and sat looking through the window. Our plane, a spacious 747, sat on the tarmac, and was being prepared. It was unusually totally black and bore the countries name along its fuselage, Quadi, plus the motto, ‘Pleasure is our aim’. God I loved the sound of this place the closer I got to it. My fellow holiday makers and members of the beautiful sect were drifting into the boarding gate area and taking seats around me.

More trolley dollies in el’kinky get up, were passing among us with trays long cool iced drinks. Each glass was filled with a day glow purple liquid and ice. They were accessorised with a paper parasol and hell the best bit was they were free. They looked like toxic waste but tasted dammed fine. They also had one hell of a kick and it did leave me feeling slightly woozy and intoxicated after one glass. This was going to be a great holiday and I had to admit, as I sipped the cocktail, the trolley dolly’s had damned fine legs.

I sat sipping my freebee and thinking of the fun that lay ahead of me. Two week of some sexy beach bums cock between my legs. These images ran through my head as my eyes followed stewardesses sexy ass, I may not be gay but mama she had a wiggle when she walked.  My fellow holiday maker it seems had all won the same holiday, and was just as excited at what the next two weeks offered.

The flight was called on time and we were guided to our seats by yet another yummy trolley dolly. Everyone was in a good mood and giggling like a school party.  Seemingly the cocktails and late hour were having there effects.

There was no pre flight safety speech, thank god. I mean who listens to them? Lights dimmed, the air con kicked in and as it blew cool scented air into the cabin the plane taxied. After a five minute pause we were cleared for take off and the plane launched itself down the concrete apron and into the night sky. Quadi here I come!

Once we were airborne and had levelled out the trolley dollies worked there was down the aisle, giving each passenger another cocktail. Then the lights still dimmed and to the sound of the air con hissing we sipped our drinks.

I must have nodded off. I woke with slightly muzzy headache and shut my eyes for two minutes to help lift it. It seemed slightly better as I lifted my arms to rub my forehead. Or I meant to lift them. They felt damned heavy. I opened my eyes and looked down. Two things hit me first. One was that my wrists were manacled to the seats arm rests, and the second thing was that I was sat in my lingerie. Some weird dream I was having as I looked round, noting that everyone was in the same state. Somewhere still asleep and others like me were staring around. One weird dream!

The trolley dollies were leading one woman down the aisle. Like me she was in here lingerie. She was attractive but one had to admit she had to be fifty plus. If it wasn’t for the bra I am sure her tit would hang down to her waist. Her panties were hardly exciting and seemed to in need of a wash. As they passed me the trolley Mistress noticed I was awake. She brought her older charge to a stop and then looked me over. From here waist she produced a small electronic key pad and she pressed two numbers on it. My restraints came free and I was able to stand up. “Follow us” she told me, and like a lamb, I stood up and trotted along behind her. Walking down an aisle of a 747 in my lingerie following some sex goddess and an old Tart? But I seemed to have no desire to refuse. My mind said one thing, it kept saying this was some weird shit, and my limbs just did as they had been told to.

We passed through a curtained door way and into an area that had fewer seats. I looked round and this was like Dante’s version of hell. In each seat there was a naked passenger. Some male some female. Kneeling between their legs was a member of their same sex. The males were sucking their seated companion’s cocks. The females were making user of fingers and tongues on their victims. As I looked round I noted that no one was smiling. Some of the receivers were even showing tear stains down their faces.        My god what was in that cocktail, this was weird?

I still followed Mistress Dolly and the old Tart, as we made our way to the rear of the area. We reached a seat that was unoccupied and there we stopped. Mistress Dolly turned the old tart towards me and then guided me with a hand in the small of my back until I faced her. “Kiss her” Mistress Doll commanded me. I found no desire to resist, even though my mind screamed stop. I brought my lips closer to old Tart and we kissed. I kissed her as if she was the dream Latino lover I had so recently lost. He mouth parted as our tongues made contact. I could taste her saliva and smell her stale cigarette breath. We kissed like two lovers, and as my mind scream no my body said yes.  “Undress” Mistress Dol ordered us and my hands sought the clasp to old Tarts bra. As it fell away her tilts tumbled out, and I felt her hands reach for my panties.

We stood there naked, her piss panties in my hands and my expensive scented but wet stained lingerie in hers. “Suck the crutch” Miss Do ordered us, and I found myself deeply inhaling the smell of rancid piss and other scents. I buried my nose deep into the smells and inhaled deeply. It was the most erotic scent of my life. I could not resist my limbs as they sought to explore old tarts body. My mind still screamed in protest, and tears stained my checks as I knelt before the now seated older woman. Tears ran down my face as brought my mouth closer to that sweet haven of old Tarts pussy. As I saw her aroused lips and saw the gleam of her wetness, I did not see her tears, as my tongue made first contact with that wet lip. As I sucked it deeply into my mouth like some small but potent cock. As I tasted her arousal from its source and as I felt my own pussy betrayal me. As Mistress D looked on smiling. I was one of an entire cargo of fresh meat destined for Quadi with no wish other than to please, no matter what thoughts raged at the back of my mind, I had no control over my body and my immediate thoughts. I was here to please Mistress and do as he bid us.

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.

Author's Note:

This story is the property of the author. It can be

downloaded for personal reading pleasure or sending

to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them at your

own site, please contact the author for permission.

Copyright 2008 Sept, All Rights Reserved.

The New World Part 6

I lay back in my seat; my mouth filled with the taste and scent my first female juices. My own arousal had diminished and my mind still screamed that this was an invasion of my very soul. I was a straight woman, who loved the taste and feel of a hard cock. But my body had betrayed me, and had lead me, l onto the path of slavery.

Around me, my fellow prize winners were sat in their seats, the entire plane seemed to be filled with the scent of arousal and debasement.  A Mistress walked along the aisle, leading and chain of passengers. What seemed to be a family, a husband, a wife, who I could not help but admire and want? Behind them came two younger girls, both similar in looks to their mother and I took to be both twins and their off springs. As my Mistress drew level with me, she indicated for me to rise and join the group. My aching limbs protested, but lifted me from the seat and I fell into place, behind the rearmost twin, admiring her soft rounded buttocks as the led me once more to the rear of the plane.

We were commanded to kneel in a row of four slaves, as our Mistress passed to the husband the discarded lingerie of his wife. Tears coursed down his face as he was commanded to dress in the thin material and to suffer further the humiliation. I watched as he fumbled to dress as bidden, and I noticed stains of what I knew were semen around his mouth and down his chin. Dressed in stockings and panties he was made to kneel once more beside us. Mistress looked us over, as if trying to decide what her pleasure would be. Around us the air was filled with the heavy scent of arousal and the sounds of other slaves, being led further along their paths of servitude.

Mistress stood before each of us and with her hands fondled our breasts in turn, her fingers pinching each of our nipples, leaving them pinched and aching. Leaving each of us with a sparkle in our eyes, a yearning for more and a wetness in our secret havens. She led the sissy husband to a seat that had been reclined into a flat surface. There she ordered him to lie down where she secured him into placed with manacles. He lay there, his manhood aroused and trying to burst through the thin material of its entrapment. He silently sobbed, helpless and fearing what the next few moments held. Mistress selected a twin and with a guiding hand lead her over to where her father was, to stand before her sissy father laid out as if on an alter. An alter to the gods of servitude and debasement. Mistress leant down to whisper commands into the twin’s ear, and with out any moment of hesitation the naked daughter realised the cock of own father from its pantie cage. It sprang free, and she sank her mouth over it, as if sucking on the most succulent and desirable lolly she had tasted,

As she dinned on the erection, her sister was led to a small mounting stall at the tables head. There she was commanded to climb the stall and to sink her wet and aroused pussy over the mouth of her father. He lay there, one daughter dining on his cock and the other leaking the juices of her pussy over his eager tongue. I watched, my own state of arousal increasing and as much as my mind tried to deny it, I so wanted to join in the scene before me. But my mistress had other plans.

She with drew the lolly sucking daughter from the treat before her, and I could see she had made her fathers cock reach its peak. His semen staining her face and lips, from where she had been unable to swallow the contents he had ejected into her warm wet pussy mouth. A small mounting stall allowed her to climb and to straddle her father. Then with slow grace she sank herself onto the erect member, her virginity being pieced and a small moan escaping her lips. Once her pussy was filled with her father’s cock, her hands sought her sister and their lips met. Tenderly their hands sought each others breasts and engorged nipples. Tenderly their lips met and parted, and the hurricane burst over them, as the two twins hungrily sought to explore each others virginal bodies as their own father slaved away underneath them, all three finding new levels of debasement and servitude.

Mistress took my hand and led me to a clear space on the floor, where she commanded me to lay down. I lay there naked and awaiting what treat I was to be offered. Mistress brought the mother to where I lay and ordered her to squat over my face. I could sense the wetness of the woman’s arousal and that served only to make to want to serve so much more. But as close to my mouth as that wet haven was, it remained unlowered. I lay there, heaven inches above me but denied.  The frustration was unbearable, but my sense of servitude denied the ability to seek satisfaction.

“Open you mouth” was the first command I was aware of and as I obeyed I felt a drip of wetness land onto my chin. The mother moved once more and a second drip of golden liquid splashed onto my skin. My mind reeled as reality sank in. This was not possible, this could not be happening as a third drop landed into my open mouth. Then the dam burst and with it my final sense of humiliation and resistance was shattered. A steam of wet warm golden piss filled my mouth and I swallowed as fast as I could. But my cup ranith over and I felt myself drowning as her piss soaked me and ran down my face. But as I drank I could feel my own pussy react and the wetness that had been a trickle returned to become its own torrent. But it was a flow that I was not permitted to touch.

The golden torrent slowed and as it diminished to a trickle, I felt my legs being parted and saw the pussy that had rained its piss down on me, lift. The mothers face was lowered down between my legs and her tongue sought my lips. Lips at the peak of their arousal and that we sucked into her mouth, there to be nibbled and bitten.  My eyes looked up and all I could see was the curve of the mother’s buttocks. But the sight of that second hole just made me want so much more. I could see the rounded entrance to the anal hole, the skin that marked its entrance.

Unbidden I knew what to do, as any good whore would. With my right hand I slowly explored the hole. My finger tip slowly teasing and circling the entrance. I squirmed as my lips were bitten down on once more and I stifled a scream. With one finger I entered that hole, I knew deep in my mind that lubrication and gentleness where the norm. But the bite had aroused a sense of abuse in me. My finger slid in deep hard and fast, tearing its way into the mother, and inflicting a pain that made her suck harder and bite harder. Both of us lost in our own world of debasement and servitude.

The plane flew on as the fathers served his daughters, sisters loved sisters and a mother served herself on me. But we were not alone, the remained of that passengers similar served to please. No longer men, just sissies, some sucking on pussy and some one manhood.  All shedding tears as each women served one of her own sex. Our mistresses looked on, smiling and knowing there goals had been achieved.

At some stage after hours of servitude we had been sent back to our slumbers with the gentle gas, and we drifted into a world of erotic dreams. It was after what seemed such a short time that I came awake once more. I was no longer confined within the plane and felt myself to be standing in a bent over position. My head was restrained by what seemed to be stocks, while both my wrists were also held in place by the same method. My mouth was gagged by a hard rubber ball, but my eyes were left to explore their surroundings. I was in what appeared to be a large airport foyer. But this was like no normal terminal but rather the entrance to Dante’s Inferno. Around me were Mistresses. Each one led a slave by a leash. Each slave was either a naked member of my own sex, or a sissy lady. My eyes scanned the space before me, and I followed a young girl who led her own mother by a leash as they exited the terminal for the taxi rank. I had arrived in my New World and I knew that what ever level of servitude awaited me, I would never be going back to the woman I had been or the life I had known. I was content finally to know I was slave, whore and lesbian. I had found my place in the world, in the New World

This sort of marks the end of my idea for this tale. Any ideas would be appreciated, and as before any feed back.

Date: sun 26th October 2008 07:01:36 -0700 (PDT)

From: Sharon Pinder <pin121@yahoo.com>

Subject: 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.

Author's Note: This story is the property of the author. It can be

downloaded for personal reading pleasure or sending

to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them at your

own site, please contact the author for permission.

Copyright 2008 Sept, All Rights Reserved.

This chapter is written for someone who emailed me and revealed so much of herself to me, slut Leeann. She has shown me that the world I write about in these chapters does exist in some places.  My sweet saggy titted whore, Leeanne, you may read the following, but you are forbidden to touch yourself while reading, your hands are to remain away from your pussy and your to sit on them while you read. At no time are you seek realise of your frustration without first a full and long email from you, as you claim to be my biggest fan. Something I doubt you even worthy of.

The New World

Chapter 7

Family Ties

Sharon was so excited. The best day of the year was here and she had barely slept a wink. The yearly list had been written list to Mistress Santa and she’d had spent the following weeks waiting with growing excitement and anticipation, Christmas was just the bestist of times!

Sharon had also these past twelve months, acquired a new house mate who had become her best friend, confidant and lover. Despite all of this she could not help but envy her new friend, who had the one thing in her life that Sharon missed. A sub of her own! Not one of the rent-a-subs from the airport foyer or market, not one hired from a brothel. But one who was here very own, one who was imported, freshly broken and who she could use, abuse and been free from any laws. Mistress’s had the rights to their subs souls and no one was permitted to interfere or to intervene in that relationship. The subs life was in the hand of their mistress’s and their very heart beat depended on the good will of their owners.

The two girls had meet in one of the countries best hotels. Hotels one would only find in the sexually open lands of Quadi. No Holiday Inn or Beast Western. The rooms were spacious, private and provided specialist luxuries, unique to the inhabitants and guests of the county. The hotel was one reserved only for Mistresses and their subs. But the pets had to be were truly broken. No non-house trained pets were permitted in into the hotel. The unbroken had caged kennels located at the rear of the establishment. They were open to abuse there, and passers by would stop, poke the unbroken and abuse them through the cages mesh. The area had to be hosed down each morning to wash away the stench and to clean the cages cowering inhabitants out, but the hotel couldn’t risk the untrained to soil and sully there luxurious rooms.

The two Doms had become best friends straight off, but Jane was so lucky, she had her own sub, and true she let Sharon use her, but it just wasn’t the same as having your own. Jane's sub was a bit old for her own tastes, but it was good to see how much Jane had broken in and trained her own mother. Something again, Sharon was jealous of, having been forced to sell her own mother on in the sub markets when times had been hard. She still could see her mother sobbing as she was led away, unbroken, aside from her heart, to one of the cities exclusive female only brothels.

Sharon and Jane had woken in each others arms. They had made love when they had gone to bed, had fallen into a sleep of exhaustion and sheer contentment. Sharon’s eyes flicked open, and as they focused she saw Jane’s smiling face on the pillow beside her. “Merry Christmas Hun” Jane whispered and moved her face closer on the pillow to kiss her girl friend.

An hour later, having made love afresh, showered they ran down stairs laughing with excitement. Jane paused to look into the cupboard under the stairs. In the dark space her sub lay there in the foetal position. She was naked as a new borne babe; around her neck was a collar which bore her mistress’s name and address. The sub was gagged with a rubber ball gag and had her butt plug inserted. Her eyes flickered open and looked upon her daughter. She had never felt so happy, so loved and she silently offered a prayer that she would be permitted to serve Mistress today. As the sub moved to look at her mistress, she felt the dildo that filled her pussy stretch her, and send its twice hourly electric shock through her. She shut her eyes in silent pleasure at the pain on here most sensitive parts, and realised how lucky she was.

Jane slut the door to the cell and joined her lover in the lounge. A large tree filled one corner, and round it was piled brightly wrapped presents. But the largest was the one that caught Sharon’s attention. It was at least 4 foot square and wrapped in brightly decorated present, topped with a ribbon and bow.  Sharon reached for the gift tag. “It’s for me!” she laughed and sought permission to open it.

“Go ahead darling” Jane bid her “and merry Christmas”. Sharon pulled the bow and the ribbon feel away.  The sound of Christmas paper being shredded filled the room as Sharon moved like a whirl wind. A large wooden crate was revealed. It bore small holes along one side and a large catch held the front in place. Sharon all but wet herself in excitement as her shaky hands sought to realise the catch. As it sprung loose she leapt clear and the hinged front panel dropped to the floor. Sharon looked into the crates dark interior and saw squatting on the straw filled floor, a girl younger than either Jane or herself. She was naked, as well as gagged, fitted with a butt plug and bound.

“I had to get you something special for our first Christmas darling “Jane smiled, “and what could be sweeter than your own sub.” As Sharon knelt down to look at her new toy, Jane smiled down and welcomed her sister to Quadi with a smile. Leeanne just looked up at her sister, her tear stained face and pleading eyes trying to make some sense of what had befallen her.

Mum and Jane had flown off on their holiday, one which commitments meant Leeanne couldn’t join them on. After a few days Jane had telephoned to ask how her sister was. Leeanne had asked to speak to mum, but she was out shopping, she’d been told.  Jane had seemed a bit cold, but assured her that she’d not forgotten her birthday. She’d popped a parcel into the post from their villa and it should be with her by the date of her birthday. That had set Jansen’s mind racing and it was excitement that she unwrapped the parcel on its arrival. A sweet card from her sister telling her how much she loved her and wanted her there with her. The gift was a small bottle of perfume, something Jane knew her sister adored. Leeanne sprayed a small amount on her wrist and sniffed the aroma. It was heady and…………

While Janine slept her drugged slumber, two members of the Quadi Embassy let them selves into the flat with the key Mistress Jane had sent them, and found their goal collapsed on the floor. “God she’s pretty” one of the women said, as they both knelt down beside the drugged girl. They lifted her skirt to reveal a black thong. “Very nice” was the voiced comment, as one woman lifted Jansen’s buttocks off the floor and the other slid the thong free of the sleeping body. A neat and trimmed mound was revealed, and a hand ran its fingers through the private brunette hair. “Remember our orders” the none fondling hand owner added “we can touch but we are not to break the hymen, that’s to be saved” The hands continued their movements moved in a downward direction and sought access to the warmth between the thighs.

The blouse was easily and quickly removed. The small breasts were encased with in a matching bra, and fingers unclipped the front clasp. Two small, yet beautiful breasts were released, and a fresh set of fingers sought the nipples. Each nipple was rubbed between the fingers and then squeezed hard. The flesh reddened as the pressure was increased on the sleeping girl’s nipples. “Mmmmmmm, she is going to be well sort after” was the thigh stroking girls only comment.  The two women lent in and shared a deep passionate kiss, their tongues exploring each others mouths while their hands mutually abused the sleeping girl’s body.

An hour later Leeanne was in her travelling crate. Her face was smeared with pussy juice from her captors. They had finally surrendered to their arousals and each had rubbed their wet pussies over the sleeping girls face. She slept on unaware that her face was pressed deep into two warm wet pussies. Then the two captors had pleasured each other, while their victim slept on, blissful and unknowing of what fate awaited her.

The crate was large enough for the captive to barely sit in. Water bottles were secured to the walls, each with nipples from which liquid could be supped. The water contained chemical additives which would provide nutrients for the journey. A small battery powered night light provided enough light for the inhabitant to see the bottles. The floor of the crate contained a drain, through which her waste would drain. Also fixed to the crate was a gas canister, which would leak every hour, a small dose of the Quadi gas. As the days passed, the gas would seep into the girls mind and her dreams would become erotic and submissive in nature.

Sharon looked at her new present and could feel herself becoming aroused with anticipation. Leeanne’s eyes flickered open and she looked up at the two women looking down at her. A hand was held out and talking it she was guided back up to her feet, where she wobbled from her limbs days in captivity. She stood there, naked, looking at the scene around her.  She could see Sharon and her own sister, Jane. Her mind crashed from hope that she was saved to realisation that the situation was wrong, that she was naked and that a strange scent seemed to emanate from the skin around her nostrils. A strange, yet not unpleasant odour. Her mind wanted to scream that something terrible had happened, but a stronger sense of desire and lust over powered such thoughts into submission.  Her thoughts seemed to centre round how much she wanted her own sister. How much she wanted to do the unspeakable. She heard a door open and older women came in. The woman was like Leeanne, naked, aside from a collar round her neck, a clamp fastened to each of her nipples and a shaven mound. Her eyes registered that this creature was her own mother, and her mind once again wanted to scream out, but tears just ran down her cheeks. Her mother seemed unembarrassed to be so naked in front of her two off springs. She seemed happy, as she smiled as she knelt beside her two mistresses. The small trace of a smile on her face broadened, as she tried to sneak a look her youngest daughter’s naked body. Her mother felt her pussy moisten, her lips became inflamed with passion, but the clamps that held them resisted the arousal and their pressure created pain, which only served to arouse the submissive mother more. She knelt, her nipple clamps and lip clamps squeezing her aroused flesh. But she barely noticed as she looked on at her daughter, but sadly knowing that she would never be permitted to taste the juices. Such an honour would only be for her betters.

Sharon looked her Christmas present over and ran a finger gently over the smooth soft young skin. “Here darling” Jane broke Sharon’s chain of thoughts, as she handed her girl friend a second gift wrapped present. With hands shaking with excitement the paper was soon shredded and the contents held. It was a beautiful leather collar, hand finished with a small dog tag fixed to it. The script on the metal revealed the bearers mistress name. Sharon’s smile broadened as she fastened the collar into place round the neck of her very own sub. Leeanne barely moved as she was collared and finally bore a mark of her new mistress.

“Take Mistress Sharon’s new pet to the play room” Jane commanded her mother. Leeanne’s hand was taken and she was led out of the sitting room and down the hall way, to a door at the end. Her mother opened the door and led her youngest daughter in. Such delicious thoughts raced through her parents mind. She hoped she would get to serve her mistress, but even more she wished she would be allowed to watch her sweet Leeanne corrupted and made part of the new world. To see her virginity taken, and her spirit broken.

Leeanne was led over to one part of the room were a vaulting horse stood. They stood there, Jane pinioned by her hands behind her back. Her mother’s temptation to touch was almost unbearable but she resisted, knowing if caught she would be punished, or worst, sold. Leeanne’s mind still tried to understand how she had ended up in this place, what had befallen her mother and elder sister.  But as much as she tried to work out what had happened. her mind refused to allow the thoughts to crystallise and just placed erotic images into her head. Images that gave her butterflies. And that she didn’t understand.

Mistress Sharon entered the play room, followed by her lover and girl friend. The two Doms were dressed to play. They both had thigh length high heeled boots on; their shaven pussies were exposed below the black leather Basques they wore. Both had elbow length rubber gloves and jewelled collars. Mother looked on, her stomach tightening with a feeling of love and desire to serve these two goddesses. She knew she was the luckiest woman alive and felt resentment that Leeanne had entered her world. The girl was younger, and had a far more sensual body, and she feared that she would be discarded by her mistress in place of this younger and fresher sub. But she also realised she had no right to expect to serve and would have to accept what ever her betters decided.

The room that had become their centre of ‘play’ was fitted with an assortment of Toys’. Racks and manacles hung from a bar along one wall. A piece of equipment that looked a kin to a vaulting horse sat to one side of the room, a hospital power table with integrated stirrups and leg rests took centre place. The room had the feeling of a private world, where thinks best unspoken among decent folk took place.

Mistress Sharon walked over to where the two subs stood, her mother

stood staring ahead, knowing she was not permitted once in this room to

gaze upon her betters without their consent. Leeanne stood as if a rabbit

caught in head lights, tear stains on her cheeks and her eyes flicking

around the room and its contents. Sharon ran her rubber clad fingers over

the new Subs soft smooth skin, and then pinched a nipple, and then she

twisted it, creasing the skin and making Leeanne take a sharp breath.

“Table her” Sharon told her Mother, as she walked round in a circle

examining Leeanne. Once again an unresisting Leeanne was towards the

table, and as she drew closer she could see the rubber surface. Leeanne’s

mind screamed “no” as she drew closer to what to her looked akin to a

medieval torture device, but her limbs merely ignored their owners mind

and submitted to the guidance.

Leeanne was pushed on to the table and she lay there, unable to resist as

her legs were placed into the stirrups and secured into place. The stirrups

forced Leeanne to lie on the table with her legs spread and her pussy

exposed for examination. Exposed and vulnerable. Her Mother

completed the tabling by handcuffing her daughter’s hands to the

table.

Having completed her orders she returned to the vaulting horse,

where she stood silent and still. Her eyes stared straight ahead but she

could not help but settle on the exposed pussy of her daughter. She could

see the flesh through the neatly trimmed hair, and she could only imagine

how it would taste to dine on her daughters virgin juices. She stared at her

daughter, and felt her own arousal increase and wetness seep from within

her. But wetness she knew she was forbidden to touch.

Mistress Jane crossed to the vaulting horse and pushed her sub over the

device, kicking her legs apart with her booted toes. From a cupboard she

had fetched a back slit less rubber hood and this she held in one hand. But

in the other she held scissors and a set of clippers. Mother’s luxurious

hair would not allow the hoods fitting.

The room was filled with the sound of snipping as the long strands of hair

were cut to a shorter length. Strands of hair fell at their feet, before the

room was filled with the sound of electronic buzzing. The hair fell faster

and mothers scalp was revelled to the world. Shorn to a number one cut,

tears despite her submission coursed down her face, her hair had always

been her vanity. As a rubber ball gag was placed into her mouth, her

daughter could feel the salty tears her. mother was seeping, but they

stirred only contempt. The rubber mask was slipped over the scalped

head and darkness descended on the wearer. Sound became mute and she

knew that she was to be deprived the joy of seeing the new sub broken in

like a filly.

The fantasy the darkness would have allowed mother to enjoy was broken

abruptly as she felt the pinching pain of two weighted crocodile clips

fitted to her pussies lips, dragging them down and biting into them. Pain

coursed through her, the images shattered and the invasion of her anal

pussy ended any hope she had of anything other than pain.

Unheard by mother, the two young Doms crossed to where their new toy

lay, spread eagle and vulnerable. Leeanne had been able to turn her head

and the sight of the sheering and hooding had increased her fear of what

was to befall her. Her new mistress looked down on at her toy as she ran

a hand through the trimmed mound and then deeper into the flesh that had

only felt Leeanne’s fingers until now. The bodies previous owner, for

even if it had yet to dawn on Leeanne her body was no longer hers to

own, it belonged to the women looking down on her, lust in the eyes,

and unbeknown to Leeanne an arousal in her own pussy, one that she

fully intended to satisfy.

 

Once again…..comments welcome. Leeanne remember no touching no

matter how wet your are. Email Mistress Sharon first.

Date: sun 26th October 2008 07:01:36 -0700 (PDT)

From: Sharon Pinder <pin121@yahoo.com>

Subject: 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.

Author's Note: This story is the property of the author. It can be

downloaded for personal reading pleasure or sending

to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them at your

own site, please contact the author for permission.

Copyright 2008 Sept, All Rights Reserved.

The same rules as before Leeanne. You may read but not touch. Once you have emailed you may then touch, but if your email fails to please, then I guess Leeanne will be written out……..

The New World

Part Eight

Leeanne’s mind was confused and in a state of panic. She was laid out on a rubber surfaced examination table. Her arms were secured to the table with handcuffs, and her ankles raised into stirrups. The stirrups forced her legs to be parted, revealing her most intimate parts to the two older girls who looked down on her. “It is so nice to see you again sis” Jane said smiling down at her prostrate sister, and as she spoke she traced a finger round one of her victim’s nipples. Despite herself Leeanne felt the nipple respond to the touch, and swell. Her mind, of which she was still in some control, reeled at what had been inflicted on her, but even the revulsion seem to be lessening.

Sharon’s finger traced a circle round the neglected nipple, which to respond like its twin. Then almost at the same moment both girls pinched hard into the engorged nipple, causing the skin to redden, but to their delight, the swelling increased. “I can never get over how well the gas works” Jane said smiling down at her sister. “We don’t get many virgins here, but that just makes you all the more special, and sweeter that you will never know the feeling of hard cock inside that sweet pussy sis” As she spoke Sharon lent down and brought her lips closer to her new subs. Leeanne wanted to look away, but her minds power seemed to be diminishing and she remained still, so the tip of Sharon’s tongue could trace the outline of her lips. Leeanne found her she was parting her lips, without bidding, and she felt the breath of the other girl, as her tongue invaded Leeanne’s mouth. She felt hands running through her hair, holding her head still, to enable the invasion of her mouth to proceed with no resistance. A resistance that was shrinking with each new act and leaving little left in the young girl.

Just as soon as it had begun, the kiss ended. She watched as Sharon straightened up, smiling down at her new pet. The next sensation was of the parting her lips, forcing her mouth open. Then she felt fabric being forced into her open mouth. Her eyes revealing them to be panties. Panties with a scent and wetness.  Leeanne was being gagged, but with a pair of her sisters panties. Ones that had been worn while Jane played with herself, so the scent the victim found filling her was that of her sisters own juices. Panties with the white stains of Jane’s fresh moisture, and the brown stains of a days wear.

A hand ran its fingers through Leeanne’s pubic hair, teasing it and stretching it, pulling it. At times she felt like it was going to be pulled free, but then it would ease off. Her mind was struggling to resist, but she felt that slipping away. Instead she found a new sensation growing from with in her. Her own body’s betrayal as the pain became an aphrodisiac, as it brought the merest traces of wetness to her pussy, as she felt butterflies come alive with in her tummy.

She wanted to be kissed again, but she was to be denied this, for the time being. Her next sensation was of a greater pain screaming out from her nipples, as her Mistress clamped two crocodile clips, one to each raised nipple. The sharp metal teeth bit into the tender skin and she was sure blood had been drawn.  But with each increase in the amount of pain she was bestowed with, her resistance lessened. Her wetness was becoming more noticeable, as her lips expanded from the blood racing into them and her growing arousal. Mistress Jane looked down at her sisters exposed pussy, and could see the traces of moisture on the soft delicate skin, and knew her sister was slipping into the new life that awaited her. She knew that Leeanne was becoming the sub she so wanted her Sharon to enjoy. It felt only right that they should keep their subs within the family.

Jane stepped back to watch and to allow her girl friend the pleasure of her sister. Sharon’s had slowly moved down through the pubic hair, “this needs removing” was her only comment, as her fingers moved out of the small delicate forest of hair and into the wet swamps that awaited her inspection. Leeanne sensed the fingers downwards movement, and her final resistance crumbled, beaten down by the drugs and she wanted those fingers inside her. Deep inside her, she wanted to be penetrated, abused and sullied. She sensed the fingers sliding into her wetness, that had now grown from a small trickle into a small river. Soon the dam would break and that river would become a torrent. She felt her lips being rubbed between two fingers, her own juices acting as a lubricant. She knew soon the fingers would be inside her, as her own fingers had done, when she had been home safe and sound. When her fantasies had been of cock, and not of her own sister’s or her mistress’s pussies.

The scents from the pantie gag filled her nostril and as she struggled to swallow, she could feel small flakes of dirt and cream coming away from the material and being carried down into her throat.

The fingers exploration stopped, and she sensed her lips being parted. Her next sensation was of a solid object, its tip around the entrance to her most private alter. She felt her juices lubricate it, as it sought entry into the wet cavern. She felt herself being stretched as the hard object continued its journey into her. She had never felt anything so hard and so smooth inside her, but her mind screamed for it to fill her. She felt it slide in deeper, and a short sharp pain as her virginity was broken. The invader went in deeper, and she felt herself being filled. She tried to push her self down onto the object with her muscles, but she couldn’t impale herself hard enough. The vibrator reached its full limit, and she felt the vibration fill her as the device was switched on. They had saved the cherry on the cake till last. Her dam finally broke and she felt a torrent gush from her. She moaned against her sister’s panties as she came, the pain becoming part of the pleasure, and her mind seeming to explode.

The two doms watched as their new toy came, as she screamed against the pantie gag. They knew they were well along the road they had mapped out for Leeanne.

The vibration stopped as the toy was withdrawn, its plastic surface lubricated in fresh juices and traces of blood. Leeanne sank back into her own world, one where she would be pleasured again in that way. The nipple clamps continued to induce the pain, and that just served to make her wetter, if that was possible?

Sharon fetched two more clips from a drawer and these where placed onto Leeanne’s inflamed lips. She felt the sharp metal teeth bite into her most delicate flesh, and fresh pain exploded through her mind. But the pain equalled pleasure and the wetness from within her grew once more.

Sharon looked over as her girl friend brought two mounting stalls and placed them on the floor, each side her sister’s head. Sharon walked to the head of the table and straddled the table’s occupant by standing on the stools. Her Basque allowed her own pussy to be exposed, and this she held over Leeanne’s face. Jane removed the soiled gag, and watched as the pussy was lowered just out of tongues reach. Leeanne looked up, her vision filled with the sight of her mistress most private parts, held just out of her reach. She had no idea why, but she just knew she wanted to drink of that fountain. Her tongue flicked out, wanting to touch but unable to reach,

Sharon lowered her wet flesh to within reach of her subs tongue. Leeanne reached out and her tongues tip tasted its first female juices. As her tongue gently touched Sharon’s lips, she felt the wet pussy lower onto her. Her entire world became filled with the musk of her mistress’s scents, and her mouth drank from the fountain of juices that ran from those lips. Leanne suckled on the fleshing offerings, as her own juices once again turned into a torrent. As she suckled on those lips, her mistress looked on at her girl friend, who had could no longer stand and watch. She had crossed to where her mother lay over the vaulting horse. From her groin a phallic object stood proud, shiny from lubricants. The pain her mother had been lost in expanded as her anal pussy was abused and filled with the largest strap on to date. Once more she was stretched, almost to a point she would not have believed possible, and as the strap on pumped into her, she felt sharp nails of her mistresses ungloved hands rake and raised blood in welts on her backs skin.  Mother and daughter were abused, and shared a mutual world of pain, servitude and pleasure.  As mother and daughter became inhabitants of a new world, but on a path that still had many miles, and many new sensations to bring them.

Please email with comments, I love to hear from my friends I have made through this series, and always welcome new friends.

Date: Thu, 30th oct 2008 07:01:36 -0700 (PDT)

From: Sharon Pinder <pin121@yahoo.com>

Subject: 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.

Author's Note:

This story is the property of the author. It can be

downloaded for personal reading pleasure or sending

to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them at your

own site, please contact the author for permission.

Copyright 2008 Sept, All Rights Reserved.

The New World

Part 9

How had this happened to Leeanne? She could feel the rubber surface to the table on which she lay, she could feel the vibrating toy that filled her wet pussy, and despite her exhaustion small waves of ecstasy washed over her. Her swollen and abused lips throbbed from the clips that pinched them, as to were her nipples. She had suffered the humiliation of having her mound shaven, and the soreness inflicted by the blunt blade merely added to the arousal she felt, how had pain come to be such an aphrodisiac? She had been changed, unknowingly to her by an addictive drug dosage, one that would be continued during her new life. A life she had no real escape from, a life of servitude and sexual abuse.

Mistress’s Sharon and Jane stood over the new slave, both running fingers over her soft skin. Sharon forced a finger between her subs teeth and smiled down as it was suckled on. “She is so perfect” Sharon spoke quietly looking over at her girlfriend, her own love for Jane having become even stronger in the last few hours. “I feel like I have married into your family, you as my lover and your mother and sister to serve us. How could I have been so luck?” she added, Jane just smiled and reached down to remove the buzzing toy. Leeanne’s pleasure diminished as the vibrations were no longer felt, but the pain came more to the fore and that made up for the loss.

The new love of her life, Mistress Sharon, was equally in love with her now toy. But she knew the road they were to travel together would bring such fun for herself and the happiness to serve for her sub. She ran her fingers over the shaven mound and her pet winched from the raw skin. Then Sharon teased a finger round the lips that were both red and inflamed from the crocodile clips. She removed the clips, and the redness abated. The pain that washed over Leeanne lifted slightly and she felt her mistress’s finger running its tip through her wetness. She so wanted the finger inside her, and she almost came out of sheer joy when she felt the finger penetrate her moisture and seek its way between the folds of skin. She felt the finger slide in and she mentally willed herself to try and push down on to it. Then the finger became two and she flexed herself to try and caress them with warm wet flesh. She felt so happy that her mistress was being so kind, gentle and loving.

Two became three and Leeanne could fill herself being stretched. Not to any degree but more than she was use to. Three became four and the stretching became tightness. The lubrication she was producing made it possible for Sharon to compact her fingers and slide four fingers in. Leeanne’s pain returned as she felt her pussy being forced open. Sharon smiled at Jane, and then pushed on, forcing her fingers in deeper. Her knuckles slide in, smeared in the wet juices of her pet. Then she started to push fingers and thumb in, compacted as tight as she could manage. Leeanne felt the pain increase and as if her frail pussy was being jacked apart. Then with another smile at Jane, Sharon pushed harder, forcing her hand in deeper, eased by the wet lubrication, she filled Leeanne’s aching pussy. She pushed against the natural resistance of the body, and then with one final push her hand passed the obstruction of the narrow entrance and slid in. Leeanne bit her lips in an attempt not to scream, but she felt as if she was being torn apart. The pain was unlike anything she had known before and the feelings in her pussy were beyond comprehension.

Sharon pumped her pet with her fist and the lubrication increased. Leeanne’s pain may have been a new threshold, but it aroused in her a new level as well. Sharon pushed her fist in as deep as the body was capable of receiving, and then flexed her fingers. Her pet bucked as she came once again, and only her new found discipline allowed her to bite back the scream.

Leeanne’s body shock in convulsions and sweat beaded her brow. She felt her self shaking and then just as sudden as she had been fisted, the hand filling her. was pulled out. Leeanne felt empty and so wanted to feel the experience again, but she also knew new experiences awaited her.

Sharon crossed the room and rummaged through a drawer. She emerged holding a tattooing pen and Leeanne’s next sensation her numb body felt was the pain of her mistress’s name being inscribed onto her breast. She was now truly owned and would bear the mark of her mistress for the rest of her days.  Sharon released her pet from the table’s restraints, and commanded her to stand. Her legs shaking, Leeanne attempted to comply, but just feel into a heap on the floor. Sharon’s booted toe kicked the young girl, and then a pain shot through Leeanne as her mistress caned her with a flexible leather cane. Leeanne this time was unable to prevent herself from surrendering to the pain and she screamed. This only brought a second kick and a repeated command of to stand. Shaking, she finally managed to comply and stood there, her limbs wanting to crumble again, but the knowledge of the pain this would entail enabled them to keep her up right.

Sharon pushed her pet so she was bent over the table, and Leeanne’s limbs relaxed with the tables support. Jane and Sharon stood looking at the smooth, perfect buttocks of the new pet, and both had the same word in their minds, butt plug. Sharon fetched the plug and Jane the lubrication. Leeanne lay prone over the table unaware of what new experience awaited her. Her first inclination was when she felt a hand on each of her cheeks and them being pulled apart. Cool air washed over her virgin anal hole, and excitement gripped the girl. Sharon teased the plastic tip over the hole of her lover’s sister, and then eased it in. The lubrication helped make the penetration easier, but Sharon had no intentions of being gentle. No teasing and taking her time. The one push continued and Leeanne felt an entire new sensation, as her anal hole was unnaturally forced open. The hard object slid in, stretching her, and just as she felt the pain would never end, the waist of the butt passed through and the narrow neck that followed allowed her hole to contract once again. If she moved she could feel the tip of the plug inside her, and it served as a reminder of what she now was in life. A sub and a lesbian whore.

Jane fetched the scissors she had used on her mother and while Sharon held the long strands of hair, she cut through them. Leeanne’s tears returned as her long strands of hair feel around her feet. But she was beyond any resistance and had come to accept anything that her mistress would inflict on her. With the majority of the hair now on the floor, the clippers were used, and Jane’s sister’s hair was reduced to a Number one grade cut.

A rubber mask, identical to the one her mother wore was slipped over her head and she was plunged into darkness.  Naked aside from the mask and her collar, bearing the tattoo of ownership, she was guided into an upright position and led across the playroom to where her mother stood, attired in the same. Jane came to where the three of them stood with a double ended vibrator. She slid on end into her mother pussy and the remaining end into her sisters. Mother and daughter stood there blinded by rubber, naked, but joined by a sex toy. Then the two mistresses wrapped each subs hands round the other sub so now they were in a blind cuddle. Handcuffs held the hands in place, and a clip was fastened between the two collars joining them at the neck. Then Sharon reached for a remote control and flicked two switches on the device. Both subs butt plugs started to vibrate as the first switch was flipped. The second brought the strap-on alive. Mother and daughter were then eased into a tall cupboard next that stood next to them, and once in, the door was shut. There they stood, the vibrations continuing and interrupted every so often by a small electric shock. Both subs were in a world of total darkness and unknowingly being fucked by a family member.

Mistress’s Sharon and Jane left the play room, to resume their Christmas. It was late in the afternoon and they had been invited out to a dinner party. They had so much to share with their friends about today’s experiences. They left the house an hour later, dressed for the party, and leaving their subs locked in the  playrooms cupboard, their bodies aching from the vibrations and both realising that pain and ecstasy were very much akin too each other.

Please feel free to comment or if you have any ideas for further plots or such, then I would love to hear from you.

Sharon X

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.

Author's Note: This story is the property of the author. It can be

downloaded for personal reading pleasure or sending

to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them at your

The New World

Part 10

The Ambassador

Sir Terrance Grace was the product of the old school. Educated at Eaton, served in the army, having passed out of Sandhurst. Resigned as a full Brigadier, and went into the Civil Service. His career in the Service was just as meteoric and he was now at the pinnacle of his career. His first Ambassadorship! He had been posted to Washington, Berlin, and Moscow, but being awarded his first tenure as ambassador had to be his most rewarding achievement. He had been offered Tokyo, but much to the services surprise had declined. Instead he asked to be posted to one of the world’s worst human right spots. A country where the powers that be, ignored the world community, that had imposed news black out. True it was a tourist magnet, but only in the way Thailand was. They had thought him mad, but as no one else wanted the place, he had been granted his wish, he was the new ambassador to Quadi.

He’d had a good life, and as with his career, he’d married well. Cynthia Blackthorn, as she had been when he met her, came from a family that could trace its lineage back to 1066.  Her father was a Baron and was of the old money society. Cynthia had been to Cheltenham Ladies College and then completed her education in a Swiss finishing school. She was beautiful, well educated and rich, which were the qualities that had caught Terrance’s eye. The courtship had the blessing of the Baron, and the wedding was the society event of that year. Sir Terrance and his new bride honeymooned in the Caribbean, and that was when he discovered his new bride’s flaws. She may be one of the most beautiful creatures in society; she may have the manners and breading of a millennium of family breeding. She may be rich, and well connected. But she was a pure breed snob, tight with her money and frigid. Not that it bothered Terrance; he could satisfy his tastes outside the marriage quite easily. She had done the ‘act’ on the wedding night, but she made it perfectly clear that he shouldn’t expect her body on a regular basis.  Damned if she was going to get pregnant and go through the indignity of childbirth. But almost as bad, was the tight reign she kept on her money. Husband or not, the money was hers. Frigid and mean, Terrance soon came to rule the day he had wed the shrew.

Outwardly she played the dutiful wife, but in private, her legs remained clammed shut. The day Terrance had announced proudly he was to be appointed ambassador; she warned him it had better be somewhere that her society friends wouldn’t be ashamed to visits her. When a week later he had, with a smile, told her he had been posted to Quadi and could not get out of it, she threatened to leave him. Doors were slammed and voices raised! The servants just blocked her shrill voice out and felt sorry for poor Terrance. He was a likeable employer; it was just that damned woman.

Cynthia had packed and left for her family home the next day. But two days later, she came back sheepishly having been sent back by her father. She did not let up on her husband and continued to bend his ear, but she resumed the appearance of dutiful wife as far as the world was concerned.

Now six months on they were had arrived. A private jet, then due to their rank, they were whisked away from the plane by chauffeured limo. The chauffeur was a stunningly attractive woman, and she drove straight to the embassy. It was late at night and Cynthia had left the limos curtains drawn, as she was in no rush to see the damned flea pit of a county. 

Their luggage had arrived ahead of them and the embassy staff lined up to welcome the new ambassador and his beautiful wife. Cynthia spent her first day berating the staff and getting her possessions unpacked. She had all but lost her temper at the maid’s lack of respect and clumsiness. Quadi was as bad as she feared. She found the embassy was enclosed by a high wall, so she was unable to glimpse any sight of the country. She felt shut in, hidden away from something, but then that suited her. She could not imagine anything in the country that would appeal to her. They could have been posted to Washington, Berne, Paris, but no they were in this damned despot of a country!

A week after there arrival, Terrance informed his wife, that they had been invited to an ambassador’s reception at the palace. It would be a grand affair, and anyone who was anyone would be there. For the first time since her arrival, Cynthia had something to look forward to. She chose with care her finest dress; choose jewellery to compliment it, and the embassy hair dresser did wonders with her hair.

On the evening of the reception Terrance escorted his stunning looking wife, out of the embassy entrance and into the curtained limo. She may be a cow and a bitch, but she was the best arm candy he could imagine. He knew she would turn every head at the reception and that made him smile.

For once his wife was in a good mood, and she chattered all the way to the palace. This was more like it, she was in her eminent. The limo arrived at its destination and the door was held open by a uniformed servant. Cynthia raised an eye brow when she looked at the servant. She was dressed in a formal uniform, but it was not what she would have expected. Black thigh length boots, dark tights, a short skirt, and a formal jacket. But the fact that she was a she, and an amazingly beautiful one at that made Cynthia look again. She knew that where ever she went, heads were turned, but this lackey made even her feel drab and unattractive. As Terrance and his wife ascended the stairs from the limo to the palace entrance, Cynthia became aware that all the servants were female, were just as attractive and just as cold. They entered the palace entrance and were met by another servant. They were not alone, as the room was filled with the cream of the counties society. There were ambassadors, businessmen, tycoons, from all over the world, as well as their wives, and in some cases even daughters or nieces. All dressed in their finest, and passing among them were more female servants with cocktails on silver platters.

They drifted into the ball room, which was just as full, and was a sea of colour. Couples stood chatting in groups as more cocktails and

hors d’oevurs were offered by servants. Terrance and Cynthia fell in with a business magnet and his wife, and they spent a pleasant hour chatting away. They had also just arrived in country and the magnets wife was also just as ignorant on Quadi as Cynthia. As they chatted Cynthia looked round and it seemed to her that the room was not quite as full as it had been on their arrival. Small groups stood round chatting as is the way with such functions, some were couples and others all male. The cocktails were being passed around by the liveried servants, and it seemed the country tradition that male and females were offered different cocktails. She had no idea what the men were drinking, but there was no way it could be as good as the drink she had been offered.

The evening passed swiftly and Cynthia felt herself relax. The party seemed to be very male orientated and she was sure there had been more ladies here at the start, but maybe she had got that wrong. She sipped on her cocktail. Maybe this flea pit of a county wasn’t so bad? The friends they had made during the evening were pleasant enough. She took another proffered cocktail and sipped at it, as Terrance and she chatted to a newspaper owner and his wife.

It was after about two hours into the evening that the servant came up to them, dammed she had fine legs, and asked if they would be so kind as to accompany her. The two husbands and their two wives’s fell into step behind their guide, as she led them through a door way and into another room. As they entered the double doors behind them shut silently behind them and Cynthia found that the four of them were in a room with about ten servants.

The two husbands stopped just inside the door way as the two wives, unaware of losing their husbands followed their guide. They both had developed mild headaches during the evening and felt dizzy. It must be the heat, was Cynthia’s conclusion. She noticed four servants approach them, and each took an arm. With no desire to resist or ability to think clear thoughts, they were guided to the far end of the room. The husbands sat at their ease on some proffered chairs and sipped their untainted drinks. Cynthia found the servants grip increase in firmness, almost hurting, as she was parted her from the other wife.

The two servants who had remained with her, stood looking Cynthia up and down, their eyes seemed to sparkle with an emotion she couldn’t quite place. One of the servants walked round behind her, and for the first time alarm began to form in Cynthia’s mind. But as much as she started to panic her limbs seemed to have a will of their own. They failed to respond to her concern, and her panic grew when she sensed the zip of her dress being pulled down. Cynthia wanted to scream and call for her useless husband, to be a man for once and get her out of her. But her mouth would not obey her mind and behind her, Terrance sat back in his chair, a noticeable bulge growing in his trousers. A reaction that his companion sitting next to him, shared.

The dress feel to the floor and the servant helped Cynthia step out of it. Now stood in her hold ups, panties and bra, Cynthia’s mind screamed. But her limbs were refusing to act. She was stripped of her jewellery which was passed to her masturbating husband. Years in the army had given him many opportunities to share his secret sexual tastes, a taste that his wife neither knew nor suspected. Now he sat watching his wife being undressed by two lesbian servants. He was wearing her panties and hold-ups, taken from her wardrobe earlier that evening. As he watched, he noticed the other wife was also being stripped, her husband in similar attire to Terrance and performing an identical act with his own erect cock. He sat there, his erection on full view, his eyes switching between his wife’s dilemma and naked cock of his partner in crime. He had never been bothered as his wife’s frigidity, but her meanness was something he had to act on.  When news of his wife’s tragic death, he would inherit and could then indulge the lifestyle he so wanted, here in Quadi.

Cynthia felt herself being led by the hand and she found herself facing the other wife. She to was stood there in her lingerie and also showed no resistance. Cynthia felt the servant whisper in her ear, and for some unknown reason she wanted nothing more than to kiss the beautiful, semi naked woman in front of her. But as much as she wanted to, part of her mind remained free, and reeled at the sheer thought of it.

She stood there, trying to resist the urge, but her companion wasn’t as strong willed. She closed the gap and stood face to face with Cynthia. She slipped her hands round Cynthia and rested them on her silk covered bottom. Then she leaned in, pulling herself closer. Cynthia could smell her perfume and it filled her mind. She felt herself crumbling as she was kissed for the first time by a member of her own sex. She felt the soft warm wet lips touch her, and she felt herself respond. Their lips parted and tongues sought tongues. As their passion increased and their kiss became more intense, Cynthia’s hands slipped round and felt between the wife’s skin and her panties. She cupped the bare flesh and pulled the two of them closer together.

The kiss was broken when a guard ordered them to part. The next sensation Cynthia had was of the wife’s hands removing her panties and bra, leaving her naked. Her mind knew this was wrong, and tears coursed down her face, ruining her make up as she looked over her lovers shoulder and saw her husband, who was no longer paying his wife any attention. She was no longer relevant in his mind as he was able to indulge in his true tastes, and his hands were rested on his own lover’s head, as he performed felliato on Terrance. For the first time in years he was happy, able to smile and feel that he was finally going to be as rich as he had always dreamed off.

Cynthia stood naked, her hairy mound on view, and she didn’t flinch as a guard ran the end of her leather cane over her smooth skinned buttocks. She felt the guard run the tip between her buttocks, and then push the cane in between them. She felt the tip teasing around her arse hole, but her eyes were fixed on the wife. She had been undressed by a guard who then whispered orders in her ears. Cynthia noticed tears staining her lover’s cheeks, as she obeyed and knelt down. Then with a hand resting on each of her legs, she parted Cynthia’s thighs. The panic in her mind grew until it was silently screaming. How could this be happening to her, and what was her faggot of a husband doing? The tears ran down her cheeks but her body reacted to a separate will. She felt butterflies in her stomach, and her pussy becoming wet. As much as she commanded it to stop, she felt the wetness increase. The knelling woman could see the wetness, could see the aroused lips now prominent from the long pubic hair, and could smell the scent of arousal. Cynthia felt the first touch of the lovers tongue on her pussy lips, and felt them being sucked on. She felt her lovers hands part her cheeks, and with the entrance exposed the guards cane push in deeper to her anal pussy. She felt her nipples give her arousal away, as her lips were sucked into her lover’s mouth, her juices drank, and the first penetration of her arse. At this her mind revolted, but her body welcomed it. She was no longer in command of her own body, which had betrayed her and sold her out.

Comments welcome. There will be more to this plot, as there will be with the previous story line. But I welcome correspondence from like minded people of either sex, and will always have the manners to reply.

Sharon

x

Date: sun 11th November 2008 07:01:36 -0700 (PDT)

From: Sharon Pinder                     pin121@yahoo.com

Subject: 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.

Author's Note: This story is the property of the author. It can be

downloaded for personal reading pleasure or sending

to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them at your

own site, please contact the author for permission.

Copyright 2008 Sept, All Rights Reserved.

To Sissy boy and his wife, thank you for your emails, your input and ideas you have given me for my next chapter. I hope you enjoy. Miss Sharon

The New World

Part 11

Cynthia aching and abused body lay on the straw that littered the floor of her holding cell. She was cold and also ached in places that she did not know could ache. How to sit when your arse was so sore? Even the straw felt like sandpaper on her abused skin, and no matter what she did, the pain didn’t ease. A small dog bowl with the word ‘Slut’ on its front, sat in one corner of the cell, filled with some form of brown paste, that she suspected was to be her sole source of nourishment. The bowl was, she had discovered, fixed to the floor, so the only way to eat the contents was to kneel and lap at it, as a dog would. The water bowl demanded the same method of use and in another corner of the cell was a hole, from which foul odours drifted. This and she had yet to surrender to the humiliation, was for her toilet.

She had been led to that cell after her abuse at the party. She’d suffered, during that evenings, invasions of all her orifices. She’d tasted her first pussy and found she could not stop herself replaying that moment over and over again in her mind. How had she come to have been led by lead and choke collar back into that packed ball room? As she was led in, still naked, the party goers looked at her, and the chatter that had filled the room dropped to almost total silence. Heads turned and despite her mental surrender, she felt her humiliation increase and with it a wetness returning to her abused pussy. She must have hesitated, as she was jerked along by a tug on her lead and collar. The tug forced the collar to contract and further pain shot through her. Her pace quickened and the collar was able to relax back to its original size.

The 'tugger' was a stunning blonde with long straight hair that reached down to the small of her back. Her figure was pure hour class and she wore thigh length boots that were jet black and shinny PVC. Her breasts were heightened by a black PVC bra. Her nipples that were clearly aroused stood proud through two holes in the bra’s cup. Her pussy was left bare, and her mound was covered in a close cropped mass of soft blonde hair. One hand she held the lead and in the other a leather riding crop.

Cynthia was led through the party goers, a passage clearing like in the red sea.  Cynthia watched the blondes perfect shaped buttocks walk in front of her as she scurried to keep up and avoid the collar inflicting yet more pain.

She passed men in formal tuxedos, women dressed in the most stunning evening dresses, and all of them clearly fully paid up members of the beautiful set. She was the only person naked in the entire room, and she felt as if she was the entertainment. Her own beautiful and so expensive party dress had been lost to her, and her make up that had been so perfectly applied, was ruined. Her breasts were tattooed with her sub number, and across her buttocks were the words ‘Slut’ and ‘whore’.

A waitress, looked at her, sheer contempt in her eyes, as she passed by bearing a silver tray of champagne filled glasses. Where ever Cynthia furtively looked, she saw only contempt and loathing.

Her attention had wandered, but she was brought back to her servitude with the sting of a riding crop on her tender buttocks. A red welt was left on the pure smooth pink skin, a mark she knew would scar. The first she suspected of many scars. As the ridding crop hissed across her skin, the blonde goddess commanded her to knell. Without the merest of hesitation, Cynthia dropped to her knees; the response seemed so natural to the main part of her mind. But deep down, in a tiny part of her where the old Cynthia had been locked away by the drugged cocktails, her mind reeled. That sense of humiliation and horror at her predicament only seemed to excite her limbs that sought so eagerly to betray her.

She knelt there, her knees on the wooden floor, her eyes cast down.  Silence now filled the room, as a single voice spoke out. “Ladies, I give you lot nine”. Cynthia raised her eyes and caught a brief glimpse of a lectern stood on a raised stage. A tall woman, beautifully dressed woman stood at the lectern. She was dressed in a below the knee length blue satin dress, which only served to show her hour glass shape off, as did to the plunging neck line. They left no doubt as to how magnificent her cleavage was and hinted at the perfection that lingered under the silk. The front of the dress was split to high above her knees, one of which was visible through the narrow gap. Her hair was long and hung straight down her shoulder blades and was of the purest blonde. She stood at the lectern, gavel in her hand. “This is new stock, only broken this very evening, descended from impeccable and ancient linage. She is offered by her husband for service or submission and comes with the House of Bondage’s usual pledge of quality. Should she fail to satisfy or prove to be not capable of house training, a full refund, less our commission will be made, and she will be deposed of in the Brothel Camps”. The free part of Cynthia’s mind reeled in the horror. She had been taught slavery was history, dead and gone. Yet here she was, being offered for sale. But no matter what that part of her mind thought, it no longer had any control on her limbs or body. Those parts just savoured the humiliation and merely wanted to serve.

The crowd closed round Cynthia, and her immediate vision seemed to be filled with impeccably dressed women, all clearly fully paid up members of the beautiful sect. The auctioneer stepped away from the lectern and walked from the stage towards lot nine. As she walked, the split in her dress showed long stocking clad legs, which seemed to hold Cynthia’s entire attention. The crowd parted and she saw that the approaching Amazon was flanked by two mistresses, dressed in the merest of leather lingerie. Between them the two leather beauties carried a high backed chair that seemed more related to a throne than a mere chair.

The Amazon stood in front of Cynthia and ran her finger tips through the slut’s hair. The throne was placed behind the beauty, and the two mistresses took up position behind the slut, hands clasped behind their backs. Her nervousness increased as she looked up at the Amazon in front of her. Cynthia ran her eyes along the glimpse of leg and then to the plunging neck line that only came to a halt once the cleavage had been fully exposed. A sharp crack stung across Cynthia’s raw skin and her back was marked a fresh by a mistresses riding crop. “Eyes front” was the barked command. Winching but savouring the pain, Cynthia looked forward, her eyes level with the Amazons waistline.

She watched as the vision before her lowered herself into the throne, the split becoming more visible and her long stocking thighs exposed. As she watched the knees parted and those thighs were raked by the slut’s eyes, as they travelled up the length of exposure. As she stared, her mind screamed that she as not gay and that this was not happening to her. But the betrayal of her body was something she could not prevent, all control having been lost, a wetness returning to her, and a sense of arousal she could not switch off.

The legs before her parted further exposing more of what lay hidden. Prim, proper Cynthia’s eyes feasted on the vision that was revealed before her eyes. She all but dribbled when the neat and well trimmed mound gave away the secret that the auctioneer’s blonde was natural. She found herself licking her lips, like a dog on heat. Her wetness became a torrent, but this barely registered as she took in the sight before her. As much as her mind begged her limbs to obey, her body just wanted to dive into the pool of sexuality that filled her vision. The auctioneer slid slightly down in the throne so her legs could part fully and so her own arousal was exposed to the rabid slut before her.

Cynthia winched as a ridding crop scared her soft skin again and she was commanded to serve. The eldest daughter of one of England’s oldest families, the product of the finest finishing schools, the epitome of society and blue stock breeding, lusted for the sight before her. Like any cheap lesbian whore, like a dog on heat!

She placed both of her sweaty palms on the floor and leant in towards the sight before her. The blonder hair and stocking thighs filling her vision. She could see the traces of moisture on exposed lips, she could see their arousal. As she drew closer the scent of that arousal filled her nostrils and she inhaled. Deep with in her rebellious body her mind screamed to stop, but her tongue wanted to drink of that wetness.

Her tongue tip snaked out eager to sample the nectar. The tongue that had never even tasted cock, that would have never dreamed of participating in anything as dirty as oral sex, the tongue that now wanted to serve more than anything it had before. She inhaled the scent of the Amazons arousal as she closed that tongues tip to with in millimetres of the haven before her. All the time the part of her mind that was free screamed “no”, and tears coursed down her cheeks.        But these were the only free parts that remained of her, and neither had any power to stop what was happening.

The tongues tip felt the skin of those lips, and she knew what pure nectar was. Natural instinct took over, and she sucked a wet lip into her mouth, as if it was that small cock of her husband. As if she was permitting oral sex on his sad member, but this felt right. This fantasy was not of the cock, but of the wet pussy before her.  She sucked the wet aroused flesh into her mouth, and her being was filled with the taste, the scent of the auctioneer.

“Who will start the bidding?” a voice she barley registered said behind her, as a Mistress started the sale. But she ignored the humiliation as she eagerly dined on the wet lips before her. The auctioneer’s wetness filled her mouth, and her nostrils, but she did not pause in her servitude. She just wanted those lips so much. She raised one hand off the floor, to touch and explore. But a sharp pain from the ridding crop brought the hand back to its support role on the floor. “One hundred Quadi Denni” a voice placed the first bid. As this sank into the recesses of Cynthia’s mind, the tears continued to flow but the tongue did not pause in its worship.

“One hundred I am bid” was the next words to enter her mind “Come on ladies, this slut is pure blue blood, rumoured to be of royal decent. Have you ever seen more eagerness to serve, those breasts, come on they must be the desire of any mistress. That arse...” A second interrupted the sales pitch with a fresh bid, “One hundred and fifty”. Cynthia sensed a riding crops tip being run along the gap between her buttocks. She inwardly flinched, dreading at what would happen next. But as much as she flinched, her tongue never paused, turning the auctioneer’s wetness into a tidal wave. She heard a moan as the Amazon’s hands sought the slut’s hair. She felt it being twisted and her mouth being pulled in closer to create almost a vacuum seal between Cynthiana lips and the auctioneer’s pussy. “Two hundred” as fresh hands sought a grip of her hair, pulling her face away from the meal it had been dining on. She looked up at the crowd around her, as they looked on at the wetness that covered her face. The auctioneer’s pussy juices covered her face and she could still smell the scent. Her tongue ran its tip round her mouth, trying to drink in the juices that remained on her skin.

The bidding increased in hundred’s and the thousand marks was passed. Hands reached round seeking her nipples. She felt the mistress pinch them hard, making her winch and moan in ecstasy. The bidding had paused as it had come down to two Mistresses. One was pure Amazon, so beautiful it hurt the eyes and the soul to look upon her. The other far older, her body was fat and she was far from beautiful She had long blemished legs that were covered in stockings, but small black hairs showed through the mesh. She wore an expensive dress, but that failed to hide the fact, that her breasts hung down to her waist. Her face was similarly fat and ugly, but sheer lust and cruelty filled her eyes. She was one of the founding families of Quadi and she wanted this beauty for her own. Or maybe better for her daughter, yes maybe that would be better. What do you give a fourteen year old girl for her birthday? A girl who had everything, including a nasty viciousness that even her mother found repugnant.

“One thousand one hundred” the beauty bid. Cynthia looked at her, seeing what could almost be taken for gentleness in this god forsaken land. She mentally pleaded for her to win, but “one thousand five hundred” dashed that hope. The Mistress overseeing the auction said “the bid is in your hands Mistress” The beauty looked at Cynthia, smiled a kind smile then looking sad, shook her head as she stepped back to disappear in the crowd. “One thousand five hundred I am bid” The smile that filled that fat face made Cynthia’s broken heart break further, “going once, twice”. The mistress looked round seeing if anyone showed any sign of bidding, but they all knew that to out bid the fat woman would be such a costly mistake within Quadi's society. “Sold” and a ridding cane racked across Cynthia’s skin.

Now a few hours later she was in locked away in her holding cell, awaiting collection. She dreaded what lay ahead of her and what further humiliation would be heaped on her? But as much as her mind thought this, her fingers betrayed her by seeking to toyed with herself. Her wrists had been manacled but in such a way that her fingers could just tease herself. They could tease, but were restrained from giving satisfaction, just frustration. But as much as she knew this, as much as her mind denied her bodies actions, she could not prevent herself heaping further frustration on herself.

The cell door opened, and the entrance was filled by the sight of her new purchaser.  “Is she ready to travel?” the sneering woman asked as she stepped aside to allow her daughter a view of her new pet.. She looked less than her years, and was every bit the product of her mothers genes. She would clearly grow to inherit her mother’s sheer ugliness, cruel streak as well as her body shape. “Oh she is so cute” the voice squealed. “Thank you mummsy” How had Cynthia come to this? How had her husband planned all this? How had she become a submissive pain loving lesbian whore?

Cynthia was led down the corridor between the auction houses holding cells, wearing a new collar, bearing her owners name. The new mistress led her pet by a lead, or more to the case dragged her, choke collar biting into the sub’s neck. Cynthia wore nipple and lip clamps, but the pain they caused to scream through her just further aroused the whore in her. She stumbled causing the collar to bite once more, but the young mistress just laughed as she tugged her to catch up. “Can we have her branded and cropped before I return to school with her?” she pleaded with her mummsy, who she knew could never deny her anything. That what ever she inflicted on her new pet, mummsy would just watch and savour. She had tried to teach her daughter so much and now was the time to see if she had paid attention. So much lay ahead as Cynthia, the once crown of her Home Counties society, envy of the gossip magazines, epitome of pure breeding, she was led away into a life of pain, servitude, submissiveness and blissful happiness.

As ever comments welcome, and all emails replied to. Don’t be shy.

Miss Sharon

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.

Author's Note: This story is the property of the author. It can be

downloaded for personal reading pleasure or sending

to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them at your

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