(Set in the same world as the Shaming Sherie stories with some of the same characters)

Almost overnight it seemed, the entire nature of the office had been turned on its head.

The changed demeanor of Beth was immediately obvious to everyone in the office. Not just the new collar she sported every day that identified her as someone’s property, but she seemed much more relaxed, much happier.

Her no longer joining her co-workers for lunch but instead with their boss Joanna was questioned. Was she angling for a promotion or something else?

There was, of course, more than a little gossip and conjecture. And a few even guessed correctly that she was servicing Joanna every day but they weren’t serious.

Finally, when asked, she told them that Joanna had invited her to join a new mentorship program she was experimenting with. Adding without being asked, that it included an exercise regimen and that was why she returned to work flushed and red-faced.

They were skeptical but gradually took her at her word.

But the even bigger change was in their other worker Naomi.

She was no longer dressing in loose fitting, dull-colored, dowdy clothes that made her look like years older than she was.

The clothes she wore accentuated her natural curves and strong legs and instead of drab pastel fabrics they were scarlet and black leather and vinyl.

And she too was part of their bosses’ “mentorship” program it seemed, reappearing after lunch often as glowing as Beth and suddenly, to both her female and male co-workers, much, much sexier.

Overall, the atmosphere in the office became much warmer, much more relaxed, and much sexier.

Of the 13 people who worked in this part of the business, there were two for whom this became uncomfortable. They didn’t say anything but they didn’t have to. Their demeanor and body language said it all.

Joanna and Tom Crandall were very aware of the complications that a “hostile work environment” could cause in 2025 and had several discussions with each other as well as the legal department and it was decided that they would offer these two a choice of a promotion and transfer to another part of the company, a year’s severance pay with a glowing recommendation to any future employer, or an investment in any business idea they might want to explore.

All of them would, of course, require that they sign a very strongly binding NDA.

One of them, a 30-something woman named Cynthia, chose the transfer and promotion. A choice that both of the bosses were quite happy with since she had shown herself to be quite an asset and would have eventually been promoted anyway.

Cynthia did make clear that she did not find any of the things she had observed offensive, but rather they made it difficult to focus on her work. A revelation that raised the eyebrows of Tom and Joanna and made them exchange knowing glances, but was merely acknowledged.

The other, Wynn, was a 26 year-old graduate of Wharton, was a good employee but it was always pretty obvious that this job was just a stepping stone towards a more lucrative future. It was no surprise then, that he took the business investment option.

None of the sexual stuff going around him bothered him but at this moment in his life he was focused on money.

He showed up prepared with a very carefully thought-out prospective for the business he wanted to start. The level of detail demonstrated that it was a project he’d been thinking about for a while.

When he reached the bottom line and presented the amount of capital he thought he needed, he was shocked that his boss offered him an option of either that amount or double it if he would accept Mr Crandall as a minority partner.

That this shrewd and successful businessman was willing to come in with him gave him a huge boost in confidence and he happily accepted the offer.

The rest of the office workers too became increasingly open about their sexual proclivities. The office had never had anything like a dress code and unless someone had an appointment with a client, it was very casual. Jeans, t-shirts, skirts, yoga pants, even sweats and pajamas were acceptable. Every day was casual Friday and Fridays became steadily more and more sexually suggestive.

One of the younger saleswomen, a 22 year-old named Tanya sort of broke the ice. She had previously dressed very conservatively, favoring knee-length or longer skirts and loose-fitting tops that did nothing to reveal her shape.

But one Friday she arrived at work wearing an unseasonably heavy trench coat that when removed revealed an outfit that would have not been out of place in a Victoria’s Secret catalogue.

A short red, nearly transparent peignoir top that did nothing to hide her matching Wonder Bra. The same shade of satin tap pants covered her middle but their tight fit showed that there was nothing but her succulent flesh beneath them.

As she took off and hung up her coat the general hubbub of conversation ceased and though she had her back to the room, she knew that 10 pairs of eyes were focused on her.

Her whole body flushed crimson at the thought, nearly matching the color of her outfit.

She felt her nipples grow very hard and was relieved that she hadn’t chosen the shelf bra she’d first considered. She resisted looking down to check but assumed they were visible.

And the gush at her loins made her very happy that at the last minute she’d chosen to slip a thin pantyliner into her shorts.

She sat down and opened her computer and went to work but was sharply aware that though conversation had resumed, she still was the center of attention. Her ears and throat were bright red, vividly demonstrating to everyone just how aroused she was.

She did her best to concentrate on her work, checking her emails, responding to a few. The latter made her very happy that SpellCheck was a thing because her trembling hands were making many more mistakes than usual. She silently chastised herself as she had to back the cursor up and even chuckled to herself.

She was concentrating so hard that she was completely unaware of the woman who was now standing behind her and smiling at her efforts.

When that woman leaned in and whispered, “Hard to work when your cunt is dripping wet, isn’t it?” it was her hot moist breath on her neck that made Tanya jump.

“N-n-no!” she sputtered, though she knew it was a lie.

She turned her head and saw that it was the greatly changed Naomi.

Her choice of “casual Friday” garb was even more sexually suggestive than Tanya’s. Tight black leather slacks and a matching leather vest showcasing her curves and blatantly declaring her new Dominant role.

The sight shook Tanya and she stammered, “H-h-hi, Naomi. You kind of surprised me...”

“So you’re saying it’s easy to work when your cunt is dripping wet?”

“N-no... I-I mean...”

Naomi’s laugh had a rather sinister edge to it that only made the poor girl even more flustered.

“Nothing wrong with a girl getting wet, little one. Heck, my pussy is wet most of the time around here these days.”

Tanya’s half smile told the woman that her words had had their intended effect.

“Especially when I’m looking at such a desirable woman.”

Tanya had chosen her outfit to appeal to one of the several attractive men she worked with and it hadn’t even occurred to her that any of the women might also be attracted to her. But it didn’t matter at that moment because she was thrilled to be noticed at all.

“Th-th-thank you, ” she said in a barely audible whisper.

“Thank you, Miss Naomi, ” she corrected.

“Th-thank you, Miss Naomi, ” she answered slightly louder.

Though Naomi was a relative novice Domme she had quickly picked up on the power that words and forms of address had on submissives. And it was clear, when the younger woman looked up and saw the hungry lust in her eyes and then quickly looked down, slightly bowing her head, that it was working.

Though the pretty brunette had had more than a few masturbatory fantasies, they had always been of her being ravaged by men. Usually, she pictured them as a famous film star or celebrity who had taken her prisoner and forced her to be his sex slave. But more recently, especially after the office had taken on a more seductive ambience, it was one or more of the men she worked with.

She had never even considered submitting to a woman. Sure, like many girls in college, she had experimented. Using the excuse of too much to drink as a cover for kissing, fingering, and mutual vibrator masturbation. A few times, though a girl had gone down on her, she was tempted but too shy to reciprocate. But she still often imagined it and thought she might prefer to give more than to get.

A fact that she realized, with a flash of consciousness at this very moment, was the first sign of her natural submissiveness.

The leather-clad woman didn’t move or speak, letting every second of silence cause her prey to ponder their relative positions. Every moment seemed endless and every one brought a stronger and stronger ache to her loins.

When Naomi finally spoke it was a relief, as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

“I think we need a break, ” she said, holding out her hand.

Tanya took it without thinking and was pulled gently but firmly to her feet. She let herself be guided to the employee break room, following in a blissful haze.

It was still early in the workday and as Naomi had hoped, the room was empty. As soon as the entered she spun around and slid her hand up to firmly grasp the other woman’s wrist and pull her close.

The move took Tanya completely by surprise and she gasped as she suddenly found her face inches away from the other woman’s.

“Kiss me. Kiss me now.” she was ordered, and without hesitation she obeyed.

The tongue that pushed through her lips was aggressive and as it explored the sensitive tissues of her mouth she swooned, leaning against the supple leather its owner wore.

Her nipples and loins ached with the sudden onslaught of lust that the other woman’s actions had stirred.

Except for the sex of the other person it was identical to the fantasies she’d jilled to more than once and though the thought occurred to her, it didn’t seem to matter. She wanted to slide down the supple black material onto her knees and offer herself to the woman.

Pushing her back slightly, Naomi put her thumb and forefinger along the base of the her jaw, raised her head until their eyes met. The submissive immediately looked down but the digits slid back along her jawline until they gripped her throat. The hold was not choking but clearly held the promise that it might be.

“Look at me, ” she was ordered. And she obeyed.

The look she met was voracious and her body’s reaction made her wonder whether the pantyliner she was wearing was still adequate to keep her arousal a secret. The Dominant woman’s gaze was intense and it took all her strength to meet it but she managed.

She had never felt more desired or desirable and it made her tremble.

“Do you know what it means to be ‘collared’?” Naomi asked.

Tanya had explored the world of Dominance and submission enough to know what it meant and nodded.

The fingers on her throat squeezed slightly, reminding her of the Domme’s power.

“When you are asked a question you will answer.”

“i-i-i know what it means...” she forced out softly.

“Louder.”

“I know what it means.” she replied, slightly louder.

The fingers tightened. “I know what it means to be collared, Miss.”

The girl’s body was on fire and she repeated, almost breathlessly, “I know what it means to be collared, Miss Naomi.”

The fingers loosened their grip but stayed against her throat.

“Are you wearing anyone’s collar now?”

She had learned and answered, “I am not wearing anyone’s collar, Miss Naomi.”

“Would you like to wear my collar?”

With a lack of hesitation that when she reflected on it later would shock her, she answered, “Yes, Miss Naomi, I would love to wear your collar.”

When her Domme’s hand cupped her loins she jumped and made a short squeak but did not pull away.

“This juicy thing now belongs to me. Do you understand?” she asked as her fingers explored.

“Y-yes, Miss Naomi... it belongs to you.”

“Good girl.”

The two words thrilled her and she beamed with delight.

“That means that for the time being you are allowed to play with yourself but definitely no orgasms without my permission.”

The probing fingers made her moan and she forced out, “y-yes...Miss... Naomi.”

“And from now on, skirts only. No underwear.”

The fingers were quickly pushing her to the brink of orgasm but she managed gasp out an obedient response.

“And you must always ask for permission...”

“y-yes...Miss... may I cum now?”

Savoring her newfound power, the Domme answered, “Not yet. Hold it.”

It was torture but wanting very much to hear herself be called a ‘good girl’ again, she obeyed.

A few moments later she again pleaded, “p-please, Miss...”

Teasing her cruelly, Naomi asked, “Please what?”

“p-please... i-i can’t hold it... please, Miss Naomi... may i cum?” she forced out between shuddering gasps.

Naomi’s voice took on a distinctly hard edge when she growled through her teeth, “You can hold it. And you will hold it. Or I will punish you in ways you cannot imagine.”

Though she was relatively new at being a Domme, she already understood the power of her voice. She wouldn’t punish an untrained slave. That would come later. But she knew it would excite the novice even more to hear the threat.

The poor submissive did everything she could think of to hold it back but eventually she reached the breaking point.

And, of course, the Sadist stopped and took her fingers away.

The moan of disappointment from her new possession made her own cunt drip.

Tanya’s eyes fluttered open and she saw the unmistakably sadistic gleam in the eyes of the woman she’d just surrendered her body to. The look scared her but also made her even more aroused.

Putting her hands on the younger woman’s shoulders she pushed her back to arm’s length and told her, “If you’re a good girl I might let you cum in a day or two. But in the meantime you’d better go freshen yourself up. You look like you just got fucked.”

Blushing, she whispered, “Thank you, Miss. I’ll do my best to earn that.”

By the time she returned to her desk she’d managed to make herself at least outwardly presentable. But the memory if what had just transpired and was the most exciting sexual action she’d had in a long time sat there like a demon on her shoulder trying its best to distract her.

In the sexually charged atmosphere of the office her absence, and that of the openly Dominant Naomi, had definitely been noted.

She did her best to focus on her job but with little success. She kept glancing up, hoping for a sight of the woman who had just claimed her but the only thing she saw was her coworkers looking at her with a mix of envy, lust, and curiosity.

She had chosen her outfit that day as a bold attempt at changing the way she was perceived by the people she worked with. That is, less of a straight, uptight, un-sexual person, and more of the sexy young woman she really was.

She had definitely succeeded but it was as if she’d been swept out to sea by a powerful undertow and was now struggling to keep from drowning in the sea of lust in which found herself. That was why she so desperately sought out her new Domme. She wanted the firm guidance that that woman could give her.

Naomi, after leaving her new charge to freshen up, had immediately gone to Joanna to report the development to her mentor and seek her advice.

Her boss, of course, was already completely aware of what had taken place. The company’s security cameras covered all areas of the building and though they had no accompanying sound, it was easy to see what had transpired.

But there was no reason to mention that to Naomi. She let her novice apprentice excitedly reiterate the events as if she had no idea.

When she had finished her face was as red as if she’d just had a powerful orgasm and then Joanna asked, “That’s great. What’re you going to do next?”

She had been so wrapped up in the excitement of the claiming her first collar that the next step hadn’t even occurred to her.

And her expression made it very clear to Joanna that she hadn’t.

“I’m not sure, ” she admitted.

Prepared for this, Joanna told her, “This is a very delicate moment. How you proceed will define the success or failure of your possession of her.

“I assume you want to turn her into your personal painslut, am I correct?”

Images of the pretty young woman hanging from her wrists as she whipped her flashed through her mind. A fact that Joanna noted through the sudden dilation of her pupils.

“That won’t be hard but you must proceed with caution. Too fast and you’ll scare her away.

“And you must do it in a way that leads her to believe it was all her idea.”

Given the way that her forceful approach had been so readily accepted, this surprised her.

“You said you’d restricted her masturbation and orgasms. That’s very good.

“But now you must build on that.”

Naomi was very glad at that moment that her mentor was so experienced.

“Thank you Joanna. I’ll do whatever you suggest.”

“You need to ignore her.”

“Okay, but why?”

“You want to make her think she’s done something to upset you.”

That strategy made sense to her but led to more questions.

“For how long?”

“Usually a day or two is enough to make her want to crawl to you and beg forgiveness for whatever she did.”

The realization that it would also cause the girl pain struck a chord with the cruel Sadist.

“Eventually, she’ll approach you and ask if you’re mad at her.

“I suggest you don’t answer her directly. Ask her, ‘What do you think?’”

“I love that idea.”

“Just remember, your best tool, your best weapon, is her own sex drive.”

Reflecting on that she left Joanna’s office where she ran into Beth who was headed to her daily task pleasuring her boss.

She stopped her and said, “Do me a favor, will you? When I stop talking I’d like you to look over at Tanya and shake your head and laugh.”

“Sure. But may I ask Miss, what you’re up to?”

“Certainly. I just collared her and I want to throw her off guard so it will be easier to break her.”

“Ooh. That sounds delicious. I’m happy to, and if there’s anything else I can do to help...”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. Now go ahead.”

Beth performed admirably and Naomi could see that it had definitely unsettled her new charge.

‘What did she tell her?’ wondered the newly collared girl.

‘It must have been something humiliating, ’ she thought. She felt her face flush at the thought and was startled to find that it also inflamed her still-excited pussy.

She was kind of useless after that, imagining all sorts of things her new Miss might tell the people whose desks surrounded her. And every one made her more and more horny.

For the rest of that Friday her Miss paid no attention to her, a fact that was driving her crazy.

All weekend she fought the urge to play with her perpetually soaked pussy but the thought of displeasing the woman who had ordered her not to was more than enough to stay any wandering digits.

By the time she got to work on Monday morning she was an obsessive mess. She spent what seemed like an eternity trying to choose what to wear. Her clothes were either boring and conservative or more intended for a club night out.

Finally, faced with being late, she just grabbed a basic skirt, a black mini that was shorter than what she usually wore but not so short to expose her naked cunt. For a top she chose a dark lacy bra, a sheer blouse, and a blazer.

Modest compared to what she’d worn the previous Friday but still sexier than her usual garb.

But really all she cared about Naomi’s approval.

But it never came. The office was busy, and there she was, dressed in a leather vest and skirt that showed off her curves, but she seemed to take no notice of Tanya.

She seemed to visit every other desk in the open plan office but not hers. Occasionally she’d speak to one of the others who would look at her and smile or laugh but that was it.

And it was close to actually driving her insane.

Finally, she saw Naomi heading towards the break room and seized the opportunity to follow her.

She watched from the door as her Mistress prepared herself a cup of coffee and desperately wanted to say something, but froze.

She felt like throwing herself to her knees and begging for Naomi to speak to her but couldn’t get up the courage.

Naomi sensed her presence but kept her back to her, methodically taking her time to prepare her coffee, knowing that every second she made her wait was torture for the girl.

She was tempted to reenact Friday’s encounter but resisted, savoring the idea of the agony she knew she was inflicting.

She finally picked up her cup and turned around to face her. She said nothing, just watched as she took a sip of her coffee.

Tanya’s stress was palpable but she was so nervous she couldn’t speak.

Naomi finally started towards her and the door but barely acknowledged her at all. Tanya instinctively moved aside to let her pass, bowing her head in submission.

And just as she got close whispered, “I was good over the weekend, Miss... I did what you wanted... I didn’t touch myself.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

’That was it?’ thought the girl. ‘No, ’good girl’?

But before she could assemble a coherent response she was alone again.

The rest of the day was much like the morning. As were the next day and the two that followed.

Every one an agonizing 8 hours of seeing her Miss interact with everyone but her.

Finally, it was Friday again and she chose to go all out. She wore the gauzy see-through blouse but no bra and rolled up the top of her skirt, shortening it so that it barely covered her aching loins.

The moment she took off her jacket the office grew almost completely silent as one by one they all turned to check her out. She didn’t acknowledge them but her body sure did and she could feel the moisture that seeped out of her soaking the fabric of her chair.

She managed to get a small amount of work done but again was glad she ran it through an editing software before she sent it.

Though when she looked up from her computer she didn’t see anyone staring, she felt the hair on the back of her neck telling her that she was being studied. Her mind, as it had been all week, drifted to dark fantasies.

She fantasized about being strung up by her wrists in the middle of the room as the people mocked her cruelly. Laughing at her, calling her a slut and a whore, and suggesting nasty things she probably did.

She pictured Naomi standing behind them, stroking herself through her leather slacks and smiling. That led to her imagining herself crawling to her, begging her to let her lick that delicious organ and offering her body as payment.

She did try to distract herself by composing some business emails but it was useless. She was very happy they weren’t sent when she noticed she’d typed ‘cunt’ instead of ‘cost’ and twice typed ‘sex’ instead of ’six.’

On her lunch break she often joined the two guys she’d previously fantasized about but today, right before then, she watched Naomi approach them, take them aside, and say something. Upon which the two handsome young men looked at her and laughed and then went out to lunch.

Desperate, she texted her new owner and asked, “Please Miss. I REALLY need to talk to you. May I join you for lunch?”

She watched the other woman get the text, glance at her phone, and put it back in her pocket without answering.

The sight made her want to cry. She must have done something to make her angry but couldn’t figure out what it could have been. She had no appetite and spent her lunch hour at her desk, lost in thought and trying to figure out what she had done to offend.

That was the first time she pictured herself being punished.

Yes, her fantasies had all been about being submissive, but they were all about sexual subservience, nothing more.

‘Please, Miss. I don’t know what I’ve done to upset you but whatever it was I know I deserve to be punished for it, ’ she imagined herself saying.

The actual punishments she imagined were vague. She hadn’t quite reached the level of wanting to be whipped and a spanking seemed too intimate.

The rest of the office, except Naomi, were together at lunch and of course she was the focus of their gossip. Most were surprised at the sudden change in the normally quiet and conservative young woman. But compared to the other changes that had recently taken place there, it was comparatively mild.

Naomi had received a text from Joanna inviting her to join her in her office while she was receiving her daily servicing from Beth. Beth had become a bit lackadaisical in her daily duties and her boss had decided it was time to correct that.

The miscreant was kneeling in the area to the right of the desk, nude, with her forehead pressed against the floor and Joanna’s bare foot atop it.

Beth’s wrists were shackled in leather and her forearms were tightly joined in a basket pose.

“Hello, Naomi. I’d like your help with a little problem here.”

The sight of the two women thrilled her to her core. “Sure, Joanna, anything you like.”

“My problem is that this stupid cunt has forgotten why she’s here. Forgotten that by letting her pleasure me I’m doing her a favor.”

“That is a problem. What’s your solution?”

She pointed at her desk where a coiled single-tail whip lay. “That.”

Naomi picked up the shiny braided leather weapon and ran her fingers over its sensuous surface.

Using such a vicious tool was something she often fantasized about when she masturbated and looking at the unmarked flesh of the groveling slave before her made her very wet.

Beth would normally have wondered what “That” was but the pressure of the Mistress’ foot pushing her face into the floor as well as, if not more so, the realization that she had disappointed her was all she could focus on.

“I’m going to let her try one last time to convince me that giving me pleasure is the most important thing in her life.”

Beth’s mind was full of things she wished she could say: apologies, pledges, pleadings, and promises. But she knew she dared not speak unless given permission.

“And, to make sure she never forgets her duties again, I’d like you to use that on her for as long as it takes to make me cum.”

The two Dominants shared wicked smiles that showed they both knew she would resist cumming for as long as she could.

Releasing her submissive’s head she dropped her slinky black skirt and backed up and sat on the leather-covered sofa. Spreading her legs she summoned her slave with a finger, though by then the girl had already been approaching on her knees.

Just as her head leaned down to the glistening cleft below Joanna’s neatly trimmed bush, she nodded for Naomi to strike.

She lashed the meter and a halt of braided leather over her shoulder hard and missed completely.

“Less force, more aim and flick your wrist.”

The second try landed, catching the supplicant’s left side hard enough to make the girl flinch but barely left a visible mark.

It took six more tries before the biting lash landed near its intended target. And even then they lacked the impact she wanted.

But it seemed to have a positive impact on the girl giving head judging by their boss’ flushed face. Joanna nodded in an encouraging way and Naomi’s blows increased in strength and frequency.

The sight of the criss-crossing red lines thrilled her and as the moisture in her loins grew, so did the power in her punishment. Since coming out as a Domme she had imagined what it would be like almost every time she masturbated. But it was even better than she expected.

Though stifled by the wet folds of the cunt she was eating, Beth’s squeals grew in intensity with each succeeding stripe. Joanna’s expression revealed that the ‘correction’ was having its intended effects but also that she was determined to hold her orgasm back.

There was soon almost no unmarked skin on the ass and lower back and so the whip was aimed at the area above the folded arms between the shoulder blades. The first lash landed with a satisfying “CRACK!” that caused the girl to arch her back, raise her head, and before Joanna could force her head back down and cut it off, let out a sound that was equal parts scream and moan.

Pulling the girl’s hair, Joanna growled, “How dare you stop?!”

“Give the bitch ten more, right in the same spot, ” she instructed her accomplice.

The serotonin intoxication felt by the novice Sadist was a better high than any drug she had ever tried. She brought the lithe single tail down along the girl’s spine again and again with no more than two inches separating their outer borders. Her screams were muffled by her Dominant’s using a fistful of her hair to hold her mouth against her wet and swollen vulva but Naomi savored every one.

Her cunt was flooded and she felt like she was about to cum and that even the lightest touch on her clit would send her over the edge.

When the sixth lash broke the skin and a tiny row of red drops of blood appeared she nearly swooned.

The last four didn’t break the skin but splattered the drops in a pretty pattern that stirred her even more.

Her boss’ expression showed that she was struggling to hold back her orgasm and the two sadistic women traded evil grins.

Joanna held up three fingers and then pointed at the crotch of the woman kneeling between her legs. Her accomplice nodded, knowing exactly what she wanted.

She waited for a sign and when she got it, she lashed the snake-like weapon up into the blushing vulva of the slavegirl. It landed on the moist flesh with a resounding “SPLAT” and evoked a keening howl that seemed loud even though largely stifled by the swollen pussy she was pleasuring.

Naomi paused, letting the agony of the blow work its potent magic.

Teetering on the edge, Joanna nodded again and the whip struck again, its split leather tip catching the end of Beth’s enlarged clit, prompting another animal-like howl.

And, Naomi noticed, prompting a gleaming stream of wetness down both the slave’s thighs.

“The painslut loves it, ” she laughed in a tone that was reminiscent of an evil Disney queen.

It was true. The long-suppressed submissive Beth was in erotic heaven. She cared only about pleasing her boss but every strike from the nasty braided leather was like a jolt straight to her aching cunt.

Joanna was unable to answer but her face made it abundantly clear that it was time and with her skill with the single-tail near perfected, she brought it up hard into the glistening folds and watched as her mentor stiffened and then convulsed with her powerful orgasm and filled the slave’s mouth with her ejaculation.

Beth knew better than to slow or stop. Once the dam had been broken with her first one, a string of three or four would quickly follow. But usually after that, her pussy over-sensitized, she’d push the supplicant away.

Beth was disappointed that the whipping had stopped. As bizarre as she knew it was, she was getting as turned on by the pain as she might have been by fingers or a vibrator. One or two more lashes and she would have cum.

But even that frustration and the painful knowledge that this was the lot of a sexslave and painslut, was itself perversely thrilling.

After she had caught her breath, Joanna offered the services of her slave to Naomi but she declined. Instead she requested that she find some excuse to summon Tanya into the office to see the aftermath of what had just happened.

Smiling at knowing what her apprentice had in mind, Joanna used her cell phone to call the young woman and ask for her week’s sales figures.

Surprised to be summoned via her telephone instead of the intercom, nevertheless, she gathered her files and made her way to the boss’ office.

Though the details were not generally known, it was common knowledge in the office that Beth’s daily visits were definitely sexual in nature. Her returning to her desk with her face glowing, her make-up smeared, and sometimes decorated with the juices of her boss’ cunt left little doubt among the erotic imaginations of the staff.

Joanna sat behind her desk, her naked lower body hidden behind her desk, when the young woman entered.

She approached the desk where her boss was holding out her hand for her reports with a little trepidation. She had allowed her desires to distract her and though her sales figures were adequate, they were not at her usual level.

Joanna took the papers without even looking up and the girl watched nervously as she scanned them. She stood shifting her weight from one foot to the other and tried to keep from trembling.

And then she heard a moan from behind and turned to see a tableau that was the last thing she could have imagined. Her new Miss was sitting on the sofa in the short black leather skirt and leather vest that nicely outlined her curves. She wore an expression of extreme satisfaction, as if she’d just been well and thoroughly fucked.

Kneeling before her with her forehead on the carpet was the naked form that she recognized as her coworker that she was shocked to see had been marked with more stripes than she could count. With a twinge of jealousy she assumed that her Miss’ expression was a reflection of the kneeling slave’s oral services.

She was shocked at the number of weals and marks that covered the supplicant’s body but also noticed that the folds of the girl’s pussy were glistening with the signs of her arousal.

She felt her body responding in kind and wondered, for a split second, whether she would be willing to surrender to such torture in service for her Miss. But just as fast, marked by the sudden hot flash she felt in her loins, she knew she would.

She fought back the urge to tear off her clothes and throw herself prostrate at Naomi’s feet.

So rapt was she that Joanna had to say her name twice to get her attention and take back her sales paperwork. Tanya took the papers and thanked her boss but as she headed to the door her hungry eyes were fixated on the two women in the sadomasochistic tableau.

After she left the two Sadists shared a chuckle at the look of desperation in the novice’s eyes.

“You’d better start her training or someone else, like me, will snap her up!” Joanna laughed.

She knew, or hoped, that that was a joke. And though she had savored watching the girl she had claimed suffering with her desire, she knew it must end.

Excusing herself she went straight to Tanya’s desk where she picked up the sales papers and without really at them said loud enough for her coworkers to hear, “These figures are very unsatisfactory. I need you to come into my office right now and explain yourself.”

Though her tone was intimidating Naomi could not hide the sparkle of lust in her eyes.

Lowering her eyes she sputtered, “Y-y-yes, Miss. I’m very sorry. I’ll be right there.” Outwardly she appeared embarrassed but inwardly she was thrilled and could feel a gush of wetness in her loins.

She followed her Miss into her office where she closed the door and ordered, “On your knees.”

Without hesitation, she obeyed.

“Have you obeyed my orders from the other day?”

“Yes, Miss. I was careful.”

“Good girl. I’ll bet your wet little cunt is just aching for attention.”

The use of the word cunt, as well as the truthfulness of the statement made the younger woman blush prettily as she nodded her agreement.

In a flash, Naomi’s hand slapped her across the cheek with a resounding noise. “When I ask you a question you will answer, ” she growled.

Never having been struck before the blow stunned her but also sent a rush of blood to her pussy.

“y-y-yes, Miss, ” she whispered.

Another slap and, “Speak up, bitch!”

Another first, being called a bitch, made her middle ache with need.

“Yes, Miss. My cunt is aching for attention.” Another first, calling her sex organ a cunt, she noted.

“That’s better, ” the Domme said, gently stroking her still-stinging cheek.

“You do understand that serving me is not about satisfying your needs or your pleasure, don’t you?”

“Yes, Miss. I am here to serve your needs and give you pleasure.”

This was going to be easier than she thought.

“What do you think about what you saw in Joanna’s office?”

She was unsure of what to say and hesitated for a moment before answering, “It looked very exciting...

“I wanted to be in Beth’s place... giving you pleasure.”

Naomi smiled. “What do you think she did?”

This threw the girl off since it seemed so obvious. “Lick you while she was whipped, I guess.”

Chuckling, she answered, “Yeah, I guess it looked like that. But it wasn’t my pussy she was eating out.”

“But you looked so, um, satisfied... so turned on... so beautiful...” she added softly, the last word barely audible.

“Oh, I was turned on, that’s for sure. But she was giving Joanna head, not me.”

The girl glanced up with a quizzical look.

“I was the one who gave her all those stripes. That’s why I was so turned on.”

The memory of the other girl’s vividly marked body was one she would never forget. Learning that her Miss was the one who had whipped her and that it had turned her on so much surprised her and gave her pause. ‘Will she be doing that to me?’ she wondered. ‘Will I be able to take it?’

As if she were telepathic and reading her mind, Naomi told her, “Don’t worry, you horny little slut. I’m not going to do that to you.” Adding ’today’ in her mind.

Crossing to her desk she pulled out her swivel chair from behind it and sat down facing her new collared girl.

“Look at me, ” she ordered, spreading her legs.

The short leather skirt rose up her thighs, revealing her nicely trimmed bush and the fat lips of her vulva that still glistened with her juices.

She’d never openly looked at another woman’s pussy before but she was enraptured.

Sliding to the edge of her chair and pulling her skirt up to her hips, she ordered, “Crawl over here.”

Exactly as she’d pictured in her mind in her masturbatory fantasies, she crawled slowly toward that, as she’d come to think of it, promised land, that sexual Eden. Her eyes remained focused on that crotch in a way that was not missed by her Domme.

When she was close enough to the smell the delicious aroma, she paused, unsure of what to do. Unconsciously she was licking her lips, a movement that was duly noted by the other woman.

“Sit back on your heels and open your legs.”

Thrilled at being ordered, she complied.

“Put your hands on your thighs, palms up.”

Instant obedience.

“This is called the ‘Present’ pose. Normally you’d be naked but for now it will do.

“Sit up straight and bow your head as if looking at the floor a half meter in front of you.”

This was nothing new to the girl. Since she’d been collared she had spent a lot of time browsing the internet reading about Domination and submission. And more than once adopted the pose naked at the foot of her bed imagining the woman whose beautiful vulva now stared her in the face looming over her.

“Good girl.”

As with any submissive, the desire, no, the need to hear those words would drive her do things she could not yet imagine.

The lust in the young woman’s eyes was palpable and Naomi used it against her, saying, “Beg me.”

She didn’t hesitate and softly implored, “Please, Miss... may I... um... lick you?”

“Louder. And try to convince me to let you.”

“Please, Miss, may I lick you? Please?”

“Lick me? Lick me where?

“Tell me explicitly what you want.”

Blushing even more than she already was, she took a breath and asked, “Please, Miss, may I please eat you out?” She surprised herself with that last phrase. Though familiar with it, she’d never used that vulgar expression.

“Better. But it sounds like you’re just asking, not begging like I told you to.”

Getting into it now, she took a deep breath and spoke. “Please, Miss. Please let me eat your beautiful pussy. Please... let me make you cum. I’ll do whatever you want if you let me... please.”

“What will you give me if I let you?”

This threw her for a second. What could she offer the woman who already all but owned her?

Recalling the image in Joanna’s office, she suggested, “I’ll let you whip me...”

She couldn’t believe she’d actually said that. That she had offered this sadistic woman her body to whip just so she could give her head.

“Let me?

”Don’t you get it? When you accepted my collar you gave me your body to use however I wanted.

“If I want to whip you, I’ll whip you. If I want to bend you ever your desk in the middle of the office and cane you, I will.

“If you’re not willing to do whatever I want, you’d better just get up and leave and I’ll remove your collar.”

The idea of just being dismissed shocked her. That was the last thing she wanted at this point.

“Yes, Miss. I’m sorry. I belong to you now. Please don’t send me away.”

This was going to be even easier than she had at first thought. “Okay, slave. Get your mouth on my cunt. You have three minutes to get me off or you’ll be punished.”

She didn’t need the extra incentive but the idea really excited her. Leaning forward she gave the wet labia a tentative lick.

It was the first time she’d tasted another woman and it was intoxicating. In seconds she was exploring every nook and cranny of the woman’s vulva. She had never given another woman head before but she knew what she liked and tried to imitate that.

Pausing briefly, she asked, “May I use my fingers?” before immediately continuing.

Knowing that even as aroused as she already was that the girl would have a hard time meeting the three minute deadline and wanting to save the girl’s first punishment session for a more private time and place, she assented.

“Yes, you may use your fingers. This time.”

The girl thrust two and then three and then four of her fingers into the tight confines of the woman’s pussy, enjoying how it made it spasm. And then she found the swollen clit at the apex of her labia with her tongue and sucked it between her lips to bite it gently. The shudder that coursed through her Miss’ body told her that she was on the right track.

Fucking the woman’s vagina with all her fingers harder and harder and nibbling that engorged clit, she soon brought the woman to the brink. She thought of trying to prolong it but had no idea how close to three minutes she was so she just pushed the woman over the edge into an orgasm that shook the woman’s body and made her moan.

Filled with joy at being allowed to please her Miss, she kept on, feeling the woman cum two more times before she was pushed away.

Assuming the presentation pose, she said, “Thank you, Miss.” And she knew she really meant it, that she was grateful for being allowed to pleasure her Miss.

After catching her breath the older woman told her, “Good girl.” And reaching down used her hands on the sides to pull the girl up into her lap and kiss her own juices off the girl’s lips.

Tanya cuddled into the woman’s soft curves and expressed her thanks. “I’m glad I pleased you, Miss. It was my first time.”

Punctuating her words with gentle kisses, she told her, “Well, you’re certainly a natural at it.”

“I just tried to do what I liked done to me.”

Noting the lack of honorific Naomi gave her cheek a slightly soft slap, adding, “Miss.”

Embarrassed at her mistake, she added, “Yes, Miss. I’m sorry Miss.”

“You get one of those for free since you’re new at this. Forget ever again and you’ll be punished.”

She shuddered inwardly at the thought. Not out of fear but rather excitement.

Leaning back slightly she looked at her new charge and said, “You’d better go to the Ladies room and freshen up. Your pretty face looks like you’ve been sucking a cunt.”

All the girl heard was the word ‘pretty.’ Hearing that her Miss thought she was pretty filled her belly with butterflies. And though disappointed that this first sexual moment together was coming to an end, she rose from the woman’s lap and standing before her with her head bowed, said, “Thank you so much, Miss. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.”

Smiling, Naomi told her, “Okay, my sexy little good girl. You’d better get back to work before I rip off your clothes and fuck the shit out of you.”

“Any time, Miss. Any time, any place, Miss, ” she said smiling as she left.

Most of the office was still at lunch so she was able to make way to the restroom unobserved. Looking into the mirror she saw why she’d been told to go there. Her lipstick was smeared and though didn’t wear a lot of makeup, what little she did wear was a mess.

But she saw the joy she felt in her heart in the sparkle in her eyes.

Refreshed, she returned to her desk and though still quite horny, was able to focus more on her job than she had been and was quite productive, setting up several appointments and even making a sale.

At the end of the day as she was glowing. Pleased with the work she had done and basking in the knowledge that she was owned.

She was gathering her things and getting ready to put her coat on when Naomi appeared and handed her a slip of paper.

“That’s my address. Be there at 7 o’clock wearing only that coat.

“You’ll be spending the night.”

And before she could even agree she was alone.

Naomi had spoken to her boss and gotten a few suggestions for things she might need for this first encounter. She also gave her an address for getting those things and told her, “It’s a private shop and only accessible by reference. You’ll need a password. This month it’s ‘groveling.’ Let them know you’re a friend of mine and they’ll give you a generous discount.”

The store was called Madame S and identified only by a black door with its name in 5 cm tall silver lettering. Above it and on both sides were cameras and next to it a speaker above a keypad.

Even before her finger reached it, a woman’s voice crackled and asked, “Password?”

Upon hearing her answer she heard several mechanical sounds as bolts on the other side unlocked it. ‘Whew... pretty serious about their security here, ’ she thought to herself.

The heavy door opened on well-oiled hinges and she was greeted by a lovely young woman who wore a wide leather slave collar and little else. A leather g-string, leather wrist and ankle shackles and thick gold rings in each of the proud nipples on her small, firm breasts.

Head bowed submissively, she offered, “Welcome to Madame S, Mistress...” leaving a blank space at the end quite clearly.

“Naomi, ” she answered.

“Welcome Mistress Naomi. My name is Sparrow, ” she continued. “May I ask who has referred you to us.”

“My friend Joanna. We work together.”

“Ahh...” the girl sighed. “The wonderful Mistress Joanna. We love her here. Any friend of hers is very welcome here.”

“Thank you, ”

Adding, “Please follow me, ” she pulled aside a thick purple velvet curtain revealing a well lit and well stocked emporium of goods that seemed to address the needs for every aspect of Sadism, masochism, Dominance, and submission one might be into.

Following the girl she noted with a smile that the girl’s pert butt was well striped with what looked like the marks of a recently applied whipping.

“Looks like someone has been a naughty girl.”

Turning around and seeing where she was looking the girl smiled and said gaily, “Oh that? That’s just where a client was trying out a few of the whips.”

That was a kind of mind-blowing revelation for Naomi who still relatively new to this scene.

“You mean if I want to buy a whip I can try it out?”

“Of course, ” she answered with a smile. “Usually our clients bring their own subs or slaves to try them on. But if not, me or one of the other girls will happily make ourselves available.

“Most are satisfied with one or two free lashes... but they sometimes get carried away. Then we ask for a $500 gratuity.”

“Wow. That’s great and quite reasonable. But doesn’t your Dominant mind?”

“She might... if I had one...”

‘Was that a tone of regret in the young woman’s voice?’ Naomi wondered.

With a sweep of her arm Sparrow asked, “Where would Mistress Naomi like to begin?”

Though sorely tempted to move straight over to the section where a variety on whips, paddles, canes, crops, and other impact items and try them on this cute girl’s ass but she resisted and instead went over to the cuffs, shackles, and slave collars.

Exploring a few with her fingers she tried to picture Tanya wearing them and hanging by her wrists as she danced under her Miss’ lash. “I can’t make up my mind. Any suggestions?”

Holding up her wrists, Sparrow explained, “These are quite nice. They’re padded on the inside so your slave can safely hang from them for an hour without them cutting off circulation.”

Turning them to show their buckles, she added, “And as you can see here, they can fit a padlock so that only you can remove them.”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll take a set just like yours.”

“Ankles too?” she asked raising her leg.

“Yes, please.”

The clerk selected two pair and excused herself to fetch a shopping basket.

Rejoining her customer who had moved onto the collar section she watched as the woman handled several of them and put them back.

The experienced clerk sensed her client’s uncertainty, “Would Mistress like a suggestion?”

“I think that would help.”

“If I might ask... is your submissive a newbie?

“Yes, very much so.”

“I don’t mean to embarrass you, but is she your first?”

“Yes. I’m a little new at this, I guess it shows.”

The clerk was experienced enough to know better than to agree. “Not very much. I guess you’re a natural.”

“There’s just so many choices.”

There were over a hundred. Made of every imaginable material: leather, steel, cloth, and what looked like rubber. In a huge variety of colors, some decorated with sparkly gems, others with spikes, every length from a centimeter up to more than ten.

“There are types for every need. Perhaps you should think of more than one.

“For instance... these are for training a new slave.” Taking it down from its hook she showed Naomi the inside, “These metal plates on the inside are designed to send an electric shock. You can control the intensity through an app on your phone.”

“Ooo... that sounds fun!”

“Well, for you at least.”

“Not so for the person wearing it, I guess.” she laughed.

“Would Mistress Naomi like to test it?”

“Sure.”

“Let me get my phone. It has the app on it.”

Returning with it, she handed it over. Pointing at the symbols on its face she explained how to set the intensity, how to set up a random pulse or a measured one.

“The collar I have on is the same kind. All you have to do is push the red...”

ZZZZZTT!! the collar buzzed and Naomi watched the clerk with interest as the her body stiffened and her eyes went wide.

A moment later, her face flushed, she gasped, “thank you, Mistress Naomi.”

Both women felt a rush of wetness.

Looking into her eyes intently, Naomi held her finger over the red circle. “I think I definitely must have one of these, but let me make sure.”

Sparrow knew the woman’s intent but only nodded, “As Mistress wishes...”

Naomi tapped the button several times in rapid succession watching the girl twitch as her body was jolted again and again. Smiling evilly, she brought her face close and stabbed it again.

The girl did her best but still a small squeak escaped her lips and she steadied herself against the display waiting for a shock that never came.

Adding the new collar to the basket she added, “Perhaps another one for everyday wear?”

“That’s a good idea.”

Holding up two very different ones, she asked, “Which would you prefer, something that declares to the world that they’re an owned slave or something that only someone in the know will recognize?”

The more obvious one was polished leather with four large D rings and the word “SLAVE” in silver on the front. Naomi thought about how exciting it would be to make Tanya wear it to work for a second before pointing to the basket for its inclusion.

The other one was a circle of round steel with a single ring. Its catch mechanism at the back was almost invisible and needed a special tool to unlock it. Unless someone was previously made aware of it, it would just look like pretty necklace. It too went into the basket.

And, at the girl’s suggestion, a braided black leather leash.

Next she was guided to another aisle that was filled with an absurd variety of dildos, butt plugs, and other phallic devices.

“Do you intend to stretch their assholes?” Sparrow had learned long ago to never assume someone’s gender, Dommes came here with both males and females. But the answer she got clarified it.

“I don’t think she’s been fucked in the ass. She’s pretty straight-laced.”

(In fact, Tanya had been quite roughly taken there by the first Dominant she hooked up with online. But it had been the only time.)

“Then perhaps a set of these?” holding out a set of four black rubber butt plugs of increasing size.

Turning them to show their bases she pointed out a connector at the base that could be used to blow them up with a small hand pump like those used with blood pressure cuffs.

“How tall is she?”

“She’s about your size, about 160 centimeters, I guess.”

Swapping them for a different package, she pointed out, “These are slightly shorter. Better for someone our size if we have to wear them for a whole day.”

The thought of her sub squirming in her chair at work with one of these stretching her tight ring was a delight and they were added to the basket.

In the same aisle were row upon row of dildos in every size, color, and material imaginable.

Seeing her expression the girl selected one and said, “This is one of my favorites.”

It was a double ended one that she demonstrated could be bent into a variety of shapes. “It allows you and your sub to fuck each other at the same time.”

“Maybe in the future, ” she said, moving over to a selection of strap-on harnesses. Her eyes were drawn to several leather ones adorned with studs and spikes.

Sensing, by that interest, the Domme’s lust to inflict pain she commented with a rather theatrical shudder, “I’ll bet those hurt a lot when you’re getting fucked.”

And one with a ring of chrome spikes around where a dildo would be fitted went into the basket.

“These, ” she gestured at several next to the straps, “apply pressure against your clit when you thrust.”

Picking one made of black latex, Naomi added it to the rest of the toys already crowding the shopping basket.

Moving along the aisle the clerk asked, “Does she make a lot of noise?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

Reaching the gags, she explained, “If she chatters, then one of these...” pointing at the ball gags, “will suffice.

“But if she screams...” gesturing at several that were clearly designed to fill someone’s whole mouth, “these will keep her from scaring the neighbors.

“And these two can both be enlarged with the same hand pump as those butt plugs.”

Picking the one that was less phallic-shaped, she added it to the basket that the sales clerk noted happily was going to bring her a very nice commission.

The final aisle was dedicated to impact devices. Whips and paddles and canes and crops and more that made the Sadist’s eyes glisten.

Immediately she went to the several single-tail bullwhips, taking one down, running her hand over its supple braided length before uncoiling it and swishing it back and forth.

The clerk maintained her smile but inwardly clenched her gut at the idea of the woman testing it on her.

Looking for one with same action as the one she’d perfected in Joanna’s office she tried two more before finding its match. When she turned to add it to the basket she saw the clerk bent over and holding her ankles, her shapely rear end presented for the lash.

After a couple of swishes through the air she added two stripes to those already decorating her fair skin. They weren’t hard but their placement at the very sensitive crease between the top of her thighs and her pert bottom brought a gasp from their owner.

Watching with dread she saw the Domme looking at the variety of riding crops. They were mostly black but a couple were scarlet and one was deep violet.

She tried out several, swishing them in the air back and forth and then putting them back.

Sensing her uncertainty, the clerk stepped over and chose two, one red and one black. Handing her the red one she explained, “This one is more flexible. It has a stinging touch.”

With that she turned and placed her hands behind her head, interlacing her fingers, and presented her bottom for a test.

After a couple of swings she managed to land its leather tip where she wanted, leaving a short red mark on the outside-most curve of each cheek.

Satisfied, it too went into the basket.

“This one is more “thuddy.” It will leave ridges that will make your slave’s sitting quite uncomfortable for a few days.”

With a sigh that was audible to Naomi, she turned, bent over, and grabbed her ankles.

It came without the warning sound of the others and drove the air from her chest in a moan. But she managed to hold her pose.

The sight of the stripe turning from white to pink to red was more than a little thrilling and with difficulty she resisted adding a twin and placed it in the basket.

“Thank you, Mistress, ” Sparrow said softly, genuinely happy that there was no second stripe.

Next were the sections of paddles and straps. With relief she watched the budding Dominatrix skip the former and move on to the straps.

There were leather tawses, thick 5 cm wide straps, and some longer ones that looked temptingly vicious.

She took down one of the former. It was heavy leather about 4 cm wide and split down the middle for two-thirds of its length. Its handle seemed as if it had been molded to fit her hand perfectly.

She had seen them used online. Often by a sadistic beauty named Queensnake who had a penchant for making girls cry. It was short enough to be easily controlled but long enough to wrap around its target’s curves to catch the side of a breast or a belly.

And from the moment she’d seen one make a girl scream and cry, she’d longed to use one.

Sparrow’s face drained of much of its color when the woman turned towards her with a wicked gleam in her eyes. She was definitely going to earn that $500, she knew, and so she played it out

“May I make a request, Mistress?” she whispered, barely able to force the words out.

“You may.”

“Would Mistress please secure me to something before she uses that? I’m afraid...” she paused for dramatic effect and continued, “I may not be able to hold a pose for you.”

“Where would you suggest?”

Picking up the basket she said, “This way please, Mistress.”

Naomi hadn’t noticed the curtained entry to another area when she arrived. Entering it she saw large showroom with a variety of devices designed for attaching people to.

“We hold co-ed munches here several times a year.”

Seeing her customer’s quizzical look, she explained, “They’re get-togethers for folks who are into BDSM. You’re welcome to bring your slave to the next one. It’s in three weeks.”

“That sounds interesting. I’ll definitely think about it.”

“And of course it’s our furniture showroom. Everything you see here was custom built by our in-house craftspeople.”

Naomi walked around the room, running her hands over the polished wood, steel, leather, and vinyl, picturing her new slave or this salesgirl strapped down and begging for mercy. It stirred her loins almost as much as whipping Beth had.

Sparrow was well aware of the many hungry glances cast in her direction as she was pictured strung up on them. She had no way to gauge this woman’s sadism and judging by the look in her eyes she knew it was going to be rough.

And, she found, her pussy was very, very wet.

“I want to hang you by your wrists... if that’s okay...”

“Anything Mistress wishes.” Walking over to the wall she threw a switch and a steel cable with a loop on the end came down from above. When it was about a meter and a half above the floor she stopped it and walked over and held out her cuffed wrists and a pair of carabiners.

As they were joined to the loop she explained that throwing the switch in the other direction would raise the cable.

With trembling hands Naomi moved the switch and watched as the girl’s wrists were slowly raised past her firm white breasts, past the smooth skin of her shoulders, past her pretty blue eyes and her short black hair and then above her head and lifting her until she stood on her delicate toes that accentuated her former-gymnast’s lithe body.

Her skin shone with her perspiration, generated by a mix of fear and arousal. Her belly ached with her desire for what was about to commence.

Sparrow had come to terms with the fact that she was a pain slut. She didn’t need to be hurt to get off but she had long ago discovered that it made her orgasms so much better. She never tried to analyze why. She figured that nothing good would come from doing so and would probably take the fun out of it. She was aware that coming into puberty just at the time she’d was training for the Olympic trials and taking ballet and was constantly chided by her coaches to “work through the pain” probably had more than a little to do with it but she really didn’t care.

She had found a job that fit her perfectly and paid very, very well. She did have an unsatisfied longing to be taken, collared, and enslaved but that could wait.

She kept her head raised, meeting the Domme’s eyes. It was not how she had been trained and she secretly hoped that this admittedly new Dominatrix would take it as a challenge and punish her for it.

The look of lustful hunger she saw in those deep brown eyes was one she was familiar with and loved to see.

Naomi had often masturbated while picturing a girl hanging from her wrists and dancing under her lash and would have eagerly paid two or three times as much to make this girl scream.

Tentatively reaching out she stroked the taut skin alongside of the girl’s ribcage making her shiver. Licking the young woman’s perspiration from her fingertips, she muttered, “Mmm... delicious.”

Tracing her fingers over her victim’s body she savored the goosebumps that covered her skin.

“Are you nervous?” she asked. “Is that why you’re sweating?”

“No, Mistress... excited.”

“Do you have a safe word you like to use?”

“Red, Mistress. But I hope I won’t need to use it today.”

“I think that depends on how strong you are, ” she growled, taking the girl’s stiff left nipple between her thumb and forefinger and crushing it cruelly, “doesn’t it?”

Wincing, the poor girl whispered, “y-yes, Mistress... I only hope I hope I don’t disappoint you.”

Crossing behind her, Naomi paused to savor the beauty she was going to mar. Hefting the vicious tawse, she swung it back and forth as she tried to decide where its first stripe should land.

In the end she couldn’t resist the firm cheeks of her cute ass. To get both curves at once she moved to the girl’s side.

Sparrow glanced over for a second before lowering her chin and closing her eyes.

And her world exploded.

Naomi had struck with the power of all her pent-up lust and its effect on both was dramatic, soaking their loins.

While one gasped and tried to absorb the pain the other leaned in and watched as the broad stripe appeared across the various stripes already there.

Softly Sparrow said, “thank you, Mistress...”

Moving around to the other side she ordered, “Look at me.”

Obeying, she saw her raise her weapon and realized what her target was and closed her eyes in an attempt to ready herself.

“OPEN. YOUR. EYES.”

The look of fear in her eyes was like a splash of gasoline on the fire in the Sadist’s belly.

The two women held each other’s gaze in a bond like that of predator and prey.

She clenched her teeth as well as her stomach muscles but knew there was no way to prepare for the blow that cut across her belly with its two tails biting right above her mons.

She managed to stifle her scream but not the tears that filled her eyes.

As the agony spread through her she managed to force out another “thank you, Mistress.”

Stepping close she pursed her lips and used them siphon the tears from her cheek.

“Mmmm... so delicious...” she murmured.

It was, for the masochist Sparrow, unique, and incredibly erotic, “thank you, Mistress. May I have another?”

Unable to believe that this dazzling creature had not yet been collared or taken as a slave and was begging to be whipped again.

Stroking the erect nipples on her pert breasts, she asked, “How about trying it out here?”

Though slightly amused that the woman was still calling it “trying it out, ” the idea of her striking those two very sensitive nubs made her gut clench with fear.

“There’s only one way to be sure...” she said with a faintly sarcastic tone and intentionally leaving off the Mistress honorific.

She knew that that slightly flippant answer would be paid for with the pain she craved but was not prepared for its intensity.

Naomi was certain the girl was trying to provoke her and thought that deserved a lesson.

Stepping back she swung the brutal strap of leather twice at the girl’s right breast. The first was a little below its target but the second was perfectly placed, the split end of the tawse bracketed the tiny erect nipple exactly as she wanted.

Its impact was dramatic, evoking a short scream before the girl cut it off.

The Sadist watched fascinated as the sensitive flesh changed color as the blood rushed into it.

Reaching out she lightly pinched the erect tissue, causing the masochist to moan out a “Thank you, Mistress...”

Aroused as much as she’d ever been before she stepped back and repeated the blows on the other breast, landing them both just where she wanted.

This time she pinched a little harder, eliciting another moaned thanks.

With her other hand she explored the girl’s vulva and was delighted to discover that it was soaked.

“I wonder if a couple of lashes here would make you cum...”

As it was, her fingers were already bringing her very close.

She stepped back and ordered Sparrow to spread her legs which the horny girl obeyed as much as she could while on tiptoe. She gave a couple of practice swings to gauge the distance but before she could strike she heard a voice at her elbow:

“I think you have tested that device quite enough.”

Turning she saw a tall and stunning woman dressed in leather.

“Hello. I’m Maria, the owner of Madame S. And you are...?”

Naomi introduced herself and mentioned her boss.

“Ah yes, Joanna. She’s one of our favorite customers.”

Eyeing the suspended clerk, she said, “I’m sorry but we do have a limit here. And I don’t think anything would be added by whipping this painslut’s cunt and making her cum.”

Naomi was frustrated but understanding and replied, “Yes, of course, Maria. I understand.”

Sparrow hung frustrated on the edge of orgasm listening to her being discussed as if she wasn’t there. It was humiliating, which is why it turned her on so much.

“Are there any other things you’d like to shop for today, or can I check you out?”

Wanting to maintain a good relationship with a store she knew she’d be shopping at regularly, she said, gesturing at the overflowing basket, “I think that will hold me for now.”

Smiling widely, Maria said, “If you’ll follow me...” But before they went back through the curtain she paused at the switch on the wall and used it to raise her employee so that she was no longer able to touch the floor.

Turning to face Naomi she smiled and said, “That will take our little pain slut’s mind off of cumming for a while.”

Taking one last look at her and savoring the look of distress on her face, she turned and followed the willowy proprietor through the curtain leaving the aroused submissive dangling by her wrists.

As a young woman Sparrow had figured out that she could make herself cum without touching herself by clenching her abdominal muscles and pelvic floor on and off. They were by no means as powerful or even as satisfying as those achieved by direct stimulation, but they eased her sexual cravings.

Unfortunately for her, she needed to be able to brace herself against something either while sitting or standing, to make them happen. And as she was, with her feet 30 cm above the floor, that was impossible.

The brief encounter, with its few tastes of the pain she craved, had already made her juices flow

and her cunt ache for release and, had the customer followed through with the tawse on her pussy, would have cum.

Even though she knew it was futile, she tried several times to use that passive technique but it only served to make her more horny.

So all she could do was hang there, lost in a crimson cloud of pain and arousal and the humiliation of being a painslut whose only worth was feeding the sadistic needs of others. That was a common subject for her musings and daydreams but it only turned her on even more.

“I just spoke with Joanna. She tells me you’re about to start training your first collared slave. That’s so exciting! I still have fond memories of my first one.”

“I’m looking forward to it, that’s for sure.”

Placing the overflowing basket on the counter, she began to ring things up. They weren’t cheap. In the passion of the moment, more than a little influenced by the sexy sales clerk, Naomi had chosen some pretty high-end items. She watched as the total crossed one thousand dollars while Maria made small talk, complimenting her on her selection.

It was much more than she’d intended when she’d entered and that was even without the $500 gratuity for Sparrow.

As if reading her mind, Maria commented, “This is quite a bit of money. I assume you’ll be making your slave... or is it slaves? pay you back in some way.”

She had just been thinking how hard she was going to be using these new toys on her new sub’s so-far-unmarked body.

Paying with her credit card, she asked, “So, how do I get invited to the next munch?”

“You don’t need an invitation but if you fill out one of our contact cards, we’ll send you a reminder.”

Glancing at her watch she saw she would only have about an hour to get home and get ready for her novice guest.

On the way home she made up her mind as to what she was going to wear: a leather bustier corset and thigh-high stockings and boots. She was undecided as to whether to wear panties though, but eventually came to the conclusion that being permitted to see her Mistress’ cunt needed to be earned.

At exactly 7 p.m. her phone chimed and a glance at her doorbell camera app saw the younger woman in a trench-coat shifting her weight nervously from one foot to the other. She was also chewing on her lower lip in a way that the Domme found quite endearing.

Through the doorbell she addressed the nervous submissive, “Right on time. Now let’s make sure you obeyed my other order.

“Lose the coat.”

Seven p.m. was still well lit in the summer and as she had been approaching the address she’d seen lots of neighbors out and about, walking their dogs and socializing.

“Here? Now?” she asked, her trepidation showing in her quavering voice.

“You have two choices. Either obey me or turn around and take your sorry cunt back home and never speak to me again.”

The coat immediately fell to the concrete front steps.

She was pleased but still intended to punish her for her hesitation.

“Present.”

After the threat of expulsion, the thought of strangers seeing her nude humiliation didn’t even enter her mind. She followed the coat to her knees, landing painfully on her knees and taking the position she’d been taught.

She had to fight the urge to lift her head when the door opened to see the face of woman who she had been fantasizing about for a week, but managed. Her view was of a pair of shiny black leather boots and she made her Domme smile by licking her lips unconsciously.

The right one was raised and offered with the words, “You may.”

Eagerly, she bent forward and licked the bitter-tasting leather as if it were the most delicious fruit.

Her movement caught the attention of a couple walking past with their dog and they turned to take in this strange tableau.

“You’re being watched. Make me proud.”

The girl responded by taking as much of the tip of the boot as she could and fucking the back of her mouth with it.

The couple stared in shock and both pulled out their phones. He, to record, and she, to call the police Naomi guessed. Withdrawing her boot, she crouched down and put the new leather collar on her new slave’s neck and buckled it snuggly. It was tight enough to make its presence always known without restricting her breathing.

The girl found it more than a little thrilling.

“I guess we’d better move inside before the cops show up.”

She clipped the leash on to a thick D-ring and turned and walked inside. She didn’t need to tell her submissive acolyte to crawl, she just knew.

After closing the door, she told her, “In the future you will only enter naked on your knees.”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress, ” she answered, her excited voice barely more than a whisper.

Yanking on the leash she lifted her chin up, leaned down and slapped her sharply across her left cheek.

“When you speak to your Mistress, you will do so clearly and loud enough to be heard.”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress, ” she said, more audibly.

Putting her hand down, she told her, “Good girl.” and turned and walked briskly away, forcing the girl to scramble after her on her hands and knees. She led her into her living room where she used the leash to position her in front of a luxurious leather sofa.

Sitting down, she instructed, “Forehead and forearms on the floor.”

The submissive quickly obeyed and was told, “Ass up.”

“This is kowtowing. It is how you will present yourself to me.”

She was familiar with the term as a synonym for obedience but had never thought she’d be actually doing it. It was more than a little demeaning and that added to her already deep arousal.

She felt the Domme’s foot on the back of her head, pinning her to the ground. It was a mix of scary and thrilling that she could not have found a border between.

“Today was intended to be a test. To see whether you’re worth taking the time to train into an acceptable slave.”

The bowing girl started to speak and was immediately silenced with increased pressure from the boot pinning her face to the carpet and a growled, “You will not speak unless spoken to...”

“You’re definitely not starting off on the right foot... or should I say knee?” smiling slightly at her cruel joke.

“Before we go any further I want you answer these questions. Yes or no.

“Do you offer yourself, including your body and mind, to become my property?”

“Yes, Mistress.” she answered, her voice muffled by the carpet.

“Do you understand that if you displease me, or disobey me, you will be punished?”

“Yes, Mistress.” with each response she could feel herself falling deeper under this woman’s sway.

“And, that I may choose to whip you, torture you, or otherwise hurt you just for my pleasure?”

Ever since their first encounter in the break room she had known that this would happen. She had pictured it often and it made her loins ache to imagine it.

“Yes, Mistress. I exist to please you... my body is yours to use for your pleasure.”

“If I think after today that you will do, I’ll give you a contract to sign spelling this all out.”

“Thank you, Mistress. I hope I can earn that honor.”

“Before anything else, you have a punishment coming.”

The girl was taken aback and very much wanted to ask what she had done but knew better.

“Get up, ” she ordered, with a firm yank on the leash that choked the girl slightly before she could reach her feet. Using the leash she led her into the dining where she roughly pushed her face down across the heavy oak table.

“Since this is your first punishment, you may grab the edges of the table. Do not let go or I will have to start over.”

She did not find it easy to keep a stern tone of voice, as excited as she was, but managed.

“Do you know why you need to be punished?”

“No, Mistress, I’m sorry. I don’t.”

“When you were told to remove your coat, you did not obey immediately.”

Recalling it, she answered softly, “Yes, Mistress. I am very sorry...” adding in a whisper, “please punish me.”

The Domme had decided on the lighter, springy riding crop for the girl’s first punishment even before any transgression had occurred. She had seen its effect on Sparrow and thought it would e a good introduction.

“You will count each one and say, Thank you, Mistress, may I have another.’

“If you do not count each one promptly or forget the number, I will start over.”

Naomi had not even thought about how many lashes she was going to give her before she had the lithe body presented for its punishment. The traditional ’six o’ the best’ did not seem to be quite severe enough for an initiation and she thought that as tempting as it was, twenty-five was a bit too much.

The sound of the crop swishing through the air made its target’s belly muscles clench but none of it could have prepared her for the searing blow that cut across the firm pale flesh of her ass.

Though she cut it off quickly, she could not repress the squeal that escaped her lips.

She breathed in quick short breaths as she adjusted to the entirely new sensation.

Naomi watched in aroused fascination as the submissive’s body reacted to the pain. Every detail- the white knuckles gripping the edges of the table, the firm cheeks clenching and shuddering, the rising and falling of her upper body as she tried to slow her breath, her leg muscles flexing, served to stimulate her sadistic nature.

She gave the girl several seconds but did not receive the verbal response she had ordered. And so she struck again with the fiberglass crop, the blow landing about a centimeter above the first.

The response was a moan, a verbal mix, it seemed, of arousal and suffering. The breath was quicker and the muscles seemed to struggle to take it.

For Tanya, it was a step into a world she had imagined but could not have really prepared herself for. She had never been spanked as a child and except for that failed hook-up with the wannabe Dom, never been struck. He had spanked her but it had seemed like he was hesitating, treating her like a porcelain doll, afraid to really get into it.

(It had been his first D&s experience and it showed.)

When the third blow came it sent a new warmth to the center of her being. She had read in her online studies of BDSM that pain and pleasure were two sides of the same coin but until that moment she had never been quite certain it was true.

By the fourth she could feel her vulva swelling and growing moist.

By the fifth she was as turned on as she had ever been.

Seeing the girl’s obvious arousal, Naomi reminded her, “This is not for your pleasure. What have you forgotten?”

Only then did she understand and she blurted out, “Five. Thank you, Mistress, may I have another?”

“Five?” Naomi growled. “You haven’t been counting.That was number one.”

Releasing her grip Tanya turned her head to protest and meeting the glare of her Domme instantly realized her mistake.

Through gritted teeth Naomi hissed, “Listen, you fucking stupid cunt. That’s three mistakes in less than 20 minutes...

“If you want to stay and be my slave you’d better get your act together.

Or... you can just go get your fucking coat and leave.”

Again, that threat was more conducive to her correcting her behavior than the worst caning she might get. She grasped the table and placed her forehead against it and whispered, “I’m so sorry... Mistress... please keep punishing me...”

“If you hesitate or disobey me again, it’s over. Can you get that through that dense skull of yours, you dumb bitch?”

Her voice almost breaking she sobbed, ”Yes, Mistress.”

“So here’s how it works- for the first infraction, hesitating when I told you to drop your coat, you’ll get five lashes.

“Second, for not counting as I had instructed, I’m doubling that to ten more.

“And for letting go of the table I’m doubling that and adding twenty.”

In her endorphin clouded brain the numbers held little meaning. And since she was determined to stay and earn her place at her Domme’s feet, really didn’t matter.

Naomi switched to the considerably heavier black crop before resuming.

“Listen up, bitch, This is how it is going to work. For every act of disobedience or hesitation, you will be punished. Each day will start fresh but the penalty for each additional act that day will be doubled.”

Shocked at the threat and at the words used to address her, nonetheless, she could feel her center growing very warm and her pussy very wet.

“Now count!” the Sadist growled as she brought the heavier riding crop down across both of her cheeks.

The blow fell hard, making its target scream but the managed to gather herself and with white knuckles and gritted teeth, forced out, “One. Thank you, Mistress, ” almost forgetting to add, "May I have another?" but catching herself and saying it with more enthusiasm than she intended.

The next was just as hard and caught her at the top of her thighs right where the curve of her firm buttocks met them. The pain cut through her as if she had been struck with a red hot rod of iron. She had never realized just how sensitive that spot is and before she managed to cut it off, a loud scream escaped her throat. She choked out a, “Two. Thank you, Mistress... May I have another?”

The reaction was of course noted by the sadistic woman wielding the crop. She would return to that area often in the coming days.

Tanya was more prepared for the third, which came across both cheeks, parallel with the previous ones and allowed it to send a jolt of pleasure to her clit. “Three. Thank you, Mistress. May I have another?”

The last two she delivered in quick succession and again the girl started a scream that she barely managed to choke off before counting and giving what sounded like genuine thanks.

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind a small voice complained, “this is wrong... this isn’t what you wanted...”

But that almost subconscious whisper by the roar of the nearly overwhelming lust that was wracking her body. Not only had the pretty young woman never experienced such arousal, it had never occurred to her that it was possible.

Naomi smiled at the site of the glistening moisture that was dripping down the girl’s slender thighs.

Unable to resist, she plunged four fingers into the suffering slave and balled her hand into a fist, evoking a low, keening moan.

Her mentor and everything she had read in her relatively short time exploring her role as a Domme suggested that it was best to keep punishments separate from sexual S&M. It kept the submissive from intentionally trying to provoke punishment, topping from the bottom as it was known.

But her sadistic impulses pushed all those thoughts out of her mind and she began to fist-fuck the tight cunt. Slowly at first, withdrawing her clenched fingers all the way out and then driving them back in with a slow but forceful pressure.

She smiled at the effect on her victim’s body- her skin glistening with sweat, her lithe body convulsing with the mix of pleasure and pain, her struggle to keep her grip on the table, and the animal-like grunting as the knuckles reached her cervix.

She fucked her fist in and out at a steady pace, savoring the clear signs of an approaching orgasm.

“I would never have guessed that mousey little Tanya, the girl who a couple of weeks ago was dressing like a school marm, would turn out to be such a fucking painslut!” Naomi laughed.

“That’s not what I am!” she screamed in her mind. “I-I’m n-not...”

And yet, at her core, she knew that the fist pounding painfully against her cervix, was the most exciting and most arousing sexual stimulation she had ever experienced.

Unconsciously she began to thrust her hips back what little she could without letting go of the far edge of the table to meet her owner’s balled fist, increasing the pain as much as possible.

The Sadist spotted this and turned her hand so that the second knuckle of her middle finger met the sensitive entrance to the girl’s cervix. Each thrust brought an animal-like grunt and a shiver that shook her whole body.

Naomi picked up the pace and watched the effect it had on her new toy.

“Don’t you dare cum without my permission, ” she growled.

Both women knew it was an order doomed to failure.

“p-p-please...”

Pressing her knuckle against the sensitive entrance to her cervix she turned her fist and used her other fingers to vigorously stroke her victim’s g-spot.

“Please what, bitch?”

Tanya was barely able to think, much less speak, but she gasped out, “p-p-please... Mistress... may I cum?”

“Why should I let you? What have you done to deserve it?”

She could tell her slavegirl was struggling for an answer and added, “What will you do to earn it?”

“i-i-i d-don’t know... anything you want...”

“That’s not much of an offer. I already can do anything I want, can’t I?”

Her answer was a bestial grunt, “Yes, Mistress... anything.”

And at that moment she lost the battle and her pussy erupted, spewing her juices around the fist that all but filled her womb.

It was easily the most powerful orgasm she’d ever felt in the fourteen years since she had discovered masturbation.

And it was not over.

Naomi was very aroused not just by the sight of her struggling slave’s cumming but by the thought of how she was going to punish her blatant disobedience.

She kept working her fist in and out and made the girl cum again and again until the girl collapsed against the table.

She too, felt the strenuous effort and noticed for the first time how much the unusual posture and movement had made her muscles ache.

Withdrawing her fist she saw that it was coated with several streaks of blood. It excited her but also made her concerned. She enjoyed hurting the girl but didn’t want to damage her.

Reaching under her arms she stood her upright, paying no attention to the moans it elicited from the semiconscious younger woman.

Sweeping her up into her arms she noted how light the lithe body was and for some reason that pleased her. She was surprised to feel the girl’s arms around her shoulders and her head nestling up against her as she whispered, “Thank you, Mistress...”

She carried her into her large shower and lay her down on the cool tile. She was gentle but noted how the hard surface made her face wince.

Stepping out, she peeled off her leather outfit and then joined her, turning on the shower. Quickly she lowered the temperature and then directed the spray towards the younger woman.

It evoked a high pitched squeal from its surprised target who shook her head trying to get the water out of her eyes. For a second she was disoriented but was quickly brought around by the painful stripes she was sitting on and the aching empty feeling in her pussy.

Instantly aware of what must have happened and terrified that she might have disappointed her Mistress, she threw herself at the woman’s feet and, wrapping her arms around her lower legs, began pleading for forgiveness.

Stunned, the novice Domme crouched down and gently raised her slave’s chin. The girl looked down, unable to meet her gaze.

“Look at me, ” she ordered.

Shyly, the submissive met her stare and was surprised to see how warm and caring it was.

“Listen, little girl, you have nothing to be forgiven for.

“If anything, I should apologize to you.”

Seeing the quizzical look she continued, “I pushed you too far too fast.”

The younger woman started to protest but was silenced by a very passionate kiss. She let the aggressive tongue sweep her away on a wave that was as much love as lust.

When her Miss Naomi finally broke the kiss she found herself speechless. She was full of things she wanted to say but couldn’t seem to form any coherent sentences.

“I’m the one in control. I’m the one who is supposed to protect you. Even if that means protecting you from myself.

“If you’re at any fault at all it’s for being too fucking sexy... and too fucking pretty.”

The slavegirl blushed very prettily, and with a shrug and a smile answered, “I’m very sorry, Mistress.

“I’ll try to be less so in the future.”

The pair shared a gentle laugh and kissed again and when they stopped she added, “Thank you, Mistress, for the best sex I’ve ever had.”

The Domme grinned and answered, “There you go again. Now I have to put on the new strap-on I bought today and fuck the shit out of you.”

“If you have to, Mistress, then I guess you have to, ” she answered, adding, “All my holes belong to you.”

That was all the encouragement the Sadist needed. Standing, she shut off the water and gestured for Tanya to rise too. She took a fluffy towel from its bar and ordered, “Hands over your head.”

And then vigorously used it to dry her, being especially rough on the stripes that had now become sensitive ridges.

Satisfied, she clipped a leash onto the woman’s collar and tugged on it to direct her to her knees and then, without a word, led her from the bathroom and into her bedroom.

For Tanya, the transition from a high-functioning corporate employee to a creature of pure response was a liberation she hadn’t known she was seeking. In the office, every word was a calculated move, every gesture a strategic play for respect. But here, stripped of her autonomy and guided by the tug of a leather leash, the noise of the world vanished. The crushing weight of expectation was replaced by a rigid, beautiful protocol: obey, respond, and exist solely for the pleasure of another. It was a psychic shedding, a dream where the only requirement of her existence was to be used.

As she knelt on the plush carpet of Naomi's bedroom, the silence of the house amplified the rhythmic thumping of her own heart. The shift in power was absolute. She felt small, exposed, and utterly insignificant in the best way possible. The anxiety that usually dogged her—the need to be perfect, the fear of failure—had been incinerated by the searing memory of the riding crop. Now, there was only the singular, driving desire to be a "good girl, " a label that felt more like a title of nobility than a description of behavior.

Tanya stayed frozen in a posture of absolute supplication, her eyes tracking every deliberate movement of the woman above her. The room was dimly lit, casting long, flickering shadows across the walls, but the focus of her entire universe was the rhythmic clicking of buckles and the sliding of leather straps. She watched in fascination as Naomi fitted the strap-on harness around her waist, the dark material contrasting sharply against her skin. Naomi worked with a clinical, predatory precision, adjusting the tension of the straps with a series of sharp tugs that pulled the apparatus tight. She ensured the base of the artificial phallus was seated precisely against her clitoris, creating a constant, humming pressure that would jolts of pleasure straight to her clit when she was fucking Tanya.

The sight of the prosthetic—thick, uncompromising, and designed for total invasion—made Tanya’s breath hitch. It wasn’t just about the physical act to come; it was the visual confirmation of Naomi’s intent. The harness transformed Naomi from a lover into an architect of pleasure and pain, a commander of the flesh. As Naomi tightened the final strap with a decisive snap, she looked down at Tanya with a look of possessive hunger, the kind of expression a collector might have for a particularly rare and fragile piece of art they intended to break.

Naomi paused, her gaze drifting down to the faint, drying smears of blood on her knuckles. The sight had been intoxicating in the heat of the moment, but as the adrenaline leveled off, a flicker of genuine concern surfaced. She knew the internal landscape of a woman’s body was a delicate map; to push too hard, too fast, was to risk a tear that would end the evening in a sterile emergency room rather than a sweat-soaked bed. The vinyl toy of the strap-on was an uncompromising instrument, and the vulnerability of Tanya’s current state—shaking, overstimulated, and physically spent—made the idea of a vaginal invasion feel almost reckless.

She stepped back, the leather of her harness creaking in the silence. She looked at the girl, who was still vibrating from the aftershocks of her orgasms, eyes wide and pleading. Naomi’s expression shifted from predatory to calculating.

Naomi let her gaze linger on the curve of Tanya’s hips, observing the way the girl’s muscles trembled in a state of permanent, electric tension. The vaginal route was well-trodden tonight, and the blood on her knuckles served as a reminder that the body has limits. But there was another path, one that promised a different kind of surrender—a total, visceral yielding that went beyond the physical.

She stepped closer, the chrome spikes of the harness glinting in the dim light, and asked, "Have you ever tried anal?"

Tanya’s mind flashed back to a series of sterile, desperate encounters from her early twenties. Back then, she had viewed her anatomy as a fortress to be defended, a sacred geography where the vaginal entrance was a prize to be hoarded for a husband who would never come. She had treated anal sex as a strategic loophole—a way to experience the friction and fullness of intimacy while technically maintaining the "virginity" her Sunday school teachers had insisted was her only currency. It had been a practice of convenience and religious anxiety, a secret kept in the dark to satisfy a conflicting need for purity and pleasure.

The illusion of that purity had shattered during a blur of cheap tequila and loud music in a college dorm room, where the lines of her carefully constructed fortress had finally collapsed. Since that night, the act had felt like a relic of a confused past. But as she looked up at Naomi, the rigid expectations of her youth felt like a distant, irrelevant skin she had already shed.

“Yes, Mistress, ” Tanya answered, her voice ringing clear through the bedroom. She didn't whisper this time; she didn't hesitate. The memory of the riding crop was a phantom heat still radiating across her skin, and the fear of another set of lashes—or worse, the threat of being cast out—pushed her toward a desperate, absolute honesty. She wanted to be a perfect instrument, a mirror reflecting Naomi’s every desire, and if that meant opening herself up in the most vulnerable way possible, she welcomed it.

Naomi watched the transformation in the girl’s eyes. The hesitation had vanished, replaced by a focused, wide-eyed readiness. It was the look of a soldier awaiting orders or a devotee at an altar. The shift in Tanya’s posture—from a trembling heap to a rigid, hopeful supplicant—fueled Naomi’s own hunger. She liked the way the threat of punishment had sharpened Tanya’s resolve, turning her fear into a fuel that burned with an intense, erotic energy.

“I think your cunt needs a rest, ” Naomi murmured, her voice dropping into a low, clinical hum that vibrated in the small space between them. She stepped back, the leather of her harness creaking, and looked down at the flushed, trembling skin of Tanya’s thighs. “So, ” she added, patting the center of the mattress with a sharp, commanding slap, “up here, on your belly.”

Tanya didn't need to be told twice. She scrambled forward, her movements frantic yet precise, sliding across the sheets until her stomach pressed into the cool fabric. She collapsed into the position, her hips instinctively arching upward, offering herself to the air. The transition was jarring; one moment she was a supplicant at Naomi's feet, and the next, she was a piece of livestock, stripped of her sight and reduced to a series of sensory inputs. The smell of the high-thread-count linens mixed with the musk of their exertion, and the sudden chill of the room hit her exposed back, making her shiver.

Naomi didn't rush. The pleasure for her lay not in the destination, but in the meticulous architecture of the restraint. She reached for the shopping bag from Madame S, her fingers brushing against the heavy, premium hide of the cuffs. As she lifted them, the leather gave a soft, expensive groan. This was the moment she had played over in her mind since the first time she’d seen Tanya walk into the office—the transition from a woman with a career and a voice to a creature of purely physical responses.

She started with the wrists, guiding Tanya’s arms behind her back. The contrast was striking: the pale, trembling skin of the submissive against the stark, midnight black of the leather. Naomi tightened the straps with a slow, deliberate precision, savoring the way Tanya’s breath hitched with every click of the buckle. She didn't just secure her; she crafted the tension, ensuring the cuffs were snug enough to remind Tanya of her helplessness with every heartbeat. Then came the ankles, the leather biting softly into the skin, stretching Tanya's lower body into a permanent, vulnerable 'V' with her legs pulled to the lower corners of the bed where she'd improvised with a couple of old belts.

The act of binding was an intimate conversation, a way of saying *you are mine* without ever needing to speak the words.

Tanya lay there, her breath coming in shallow, jagged hitches, feeling the sudden, absolute surrender of her autonomy. To be splayed open, anchored to the lower corners of the bed by leather and steel, was to finally be stripped of the exhausting performance of her professional life. There was no longer a need to manage impressions or navigate corporate hierarchies; there was only the cold air on her skin and the terrifying, electric anticipation of what Naomi would do next. Every nerve ending was screaming, tuned to a frequency of pure vulnerability. In this state of exposed helplessness, she felt a profound sense of arrival, as if she had been traveling toward this exact moment of total erasure for years.

Above her, Naomi paused, her chest heaving in time with Tanya’s. She looked down at the girl—not as a colleague or an employee, but as a masterpiece of submission. The sight of Tanya’s arched back and the frantic pulse leaping in her throat sent a surge of possessive heat through Naomi. It was a visceral, intoxicating tableau: the modest co-worker of nine days earlier reduced to a trembling, bound creature, offering every inch of her body up as a sacrifice to Naomi's whim. This wasn't just about power; it was about the breathtaking beauty of Tanya’s willingness to be broken. The sight of her, so utterly surrendered and desperate for direction, fulfilled a dormant hunger in Naomi for a devotion that was absolute and unquestioning.

Naomi reached for the bedside table, her movements slow and deliberate, ensuring that Tanya’s gaze remained locked on her every action. From the depths of a mahogany drawer, she produced a tube of AstroGlide. She didn't apply it quickly; instead, she held the tube aloft for a moment, letting the clinical white plastic catch the dim light. Standing in full view, Naomi squeezed a generous, glistening dollop of the lubricant onto the head of the prosthetic, smoothing it down the length of the shaft with a steady finger. The sound was a wet, rhythmic sliding—a visceral precursor to the invasion that followed. Tanya watched with wide, dilated eyes, her breath hitching at the sight of the slicked surface, knowing where it would be aimed and thankful for its lubrication.

The silence in the room became heavy, pressurized by the anticipation. Naomi didn't immediately move to position herself; she allowed the image of the lubricated dildo to sear into Tanya’s consciousness, turning the act of preparation into a psychological torture of the most exquisite kind. She wanted Tanya to visualize the sensation, to feel the phantom pressure of the lubricant against her own skin before the actual contact occurred.

Naomi descended slowly, shifting her weight until she was kneeling between Tanya’s splayed legs. The position was one of absolute intimacy and absolute control; from here, the vulnerability of the girl was laid bare, a landscape of trembling skin and desperate longing. Without a word, Naomi reached out, her fingers coated in the cool, viscous lubricant. She didn't simply apply it; she mapped the area, her touch light yet purposeful. She smeared the lube in slow, rhythmic circles around the tight ring of the sphincter, feeling the instinctive flinch of the muscle and the subsequent, shuddering release.

As Naomi’s fingertip finally pressed inward, testing the resistance, a violent shiver raced through Tanya’s entire frame. It wasn't just the coldness of the gel or the sudden intrusion of the digit; it was the psychological weight of being opened, of being prepared like a piece of meat for a feast. Tanya let out a broken, high-pitched whimper, her hips instinctively trying to arch away and toward Naomi at the same time. Naomi lingered there, circling the interior wall, enjoying the way the girl’s breath came in ragged, syncopated gasps. She could feel the heartbeat of the woman through the thin veil of skin, a frantic drumming that signaled a total collapse of composure.

Naomi shifted her weight, leaning forward until her chest nearly brushed the small of Tanya’s back. She planted her palms firmly against the girl's ribs, pinning her to the mattress with a heavy, possessive pressure that anchored Tanya in place. With a slow, deliberate movement, Naomi positioned the slick, plastic phallus between the cheeks of Tanya’s backside. She didn't push inside yet; instead, she began to slide the length of the toy up and down the cleft, a rhythmic, teasing friction that played with the very edge of the opening.

The effect was immediate. Tanya’s glutes spasmed in a series of involuntary, electric tremors, the muscles clenching and releasing against the hard plastic in a desperate attempt to either push it away or pull it deeper. Each downward slide felt like a promise, and each upward retreat felt like a denial. Naomi watched the way the skin flushed a deep, bruised crimson, fascinated by the visceral reaction of a body that no longer had a mind to negotiate with. The sound of the lubricant slapping against skin filled the quiet room, a wet, metronomic beat that signaled the end of the teasing phase.

As the plastic head of the prosthetic pressed firmly against her entrance, Tanya’s mind drifted, momentarily untethered from the present. She thought of the boys from her university years—clumsy, eager things who had treated her body like a map they were too terrified to actually explore. They had been so breathless with excitement just to be permitted entry that they had bypassed any semblance of foreplay, relying on a meager amount of spit as a lubricant. To them, the act was a sprint toward a finish line; they would surge forward with a frantic, shallow energy, peaking after fewer than ten strokes. Then, almost instantly, the connection would break. They would scramble away, rushing to the bathroom to scrub away the smallest specks of her waste, leaving her suspended in a state of high, dry, and agonizingly unfulfilled horniness.

That memory of inadequacy made the current weight of Naomi’s presence feel like a revelation. There was no rush here, no clumsy scramble for a quick release. Naomi was an architect of tension, treating Tanya’s body not as a trophy to be claimed and discarded, but as an instrument to be tuned. The slow, rhythmic sliding of the lubricated plastic against her skin was a deliberate contrast to the frantic inadequacy of her past. Here, the silence was filled not by the sound of someone rushing to the bathroom, but by the steady, possessive breathing of a woman who intended to stay until every nerve was exhausted.

The first touch was not a puncture, but a promise. As the rounded tip of the prosthetic met the tight, trembling ring of her entrance, Tanya felt a sudden, violent surge of emotion that defied the clinical nature of the act. It was a wave of something vast and shimmering—a cocktail of elation, adoration, and a bliss so acute it bordered on spiritual. For a fleeting, breathless second, the word *love* flickered across her consciousness. It wasn't the romanticized love of poetry or the companionate love of a long marriage, but something more primal: a total, devotional surrender to the person who held the key to her undoing. In that moment of contact, the boundary between pain and pleasure dissolved, leaving only a shimmering sense of belonging.

Naomi felt the shift in the air, the way Tanya’s body ceased its frantic vibrating and instead leaned back into the pressure, inviting the invasion. With a slow, steady application of force, Naomi pushed. She didn't rush the entry; she savored the resistance, feeling the muscles of Tanya’s sphincter stretch and then finally yield with a soft, wet sigh. As the shaft slid home, filling her with an uncompromising fullness, Tanya let out a sound that was half-sob, half-gasp, her forehead pressing hard into the mattress. The sensation was overwhelming, a colonization of her internal space that made her feel seen and known in a way no gentle intimacy ever had.

Naomi didn’t just drive into her; she orchestrated the friction. With every slow, agonizingly deliberate withdrawal, the base of the harness shifted, the rigid plastic and leather pulsing against Naomi’s own swollen and aching clit. It was a symbiotic torture. As she pushed Tanya further into the mattress, the device hammered a rhythmic, blunt pleasure into her own anatomy, turning her act of dominance into a visceral, physical craving. She was the architect of this collapse, yet she was being dismantled by the very machinery of her own desire.

Tanya was no longer aware of the room, the dim lighting, or the leather cuffs biting into her wrists. Her world had shrunk to the singular, thumping point of impact where Naomi’s will met her flesh. The fullness was absolute, a heavy, stretching presence that seemed to reorganize her entire internal geography. Every time Naomi retreated, Tanya felt a desperate, vacuum-like pull, a psychic need to be filled again, making the eventual return of the shaft a shock of pure, white-hot electricity.

The base of the harness didn’t just touch her; it pulsed, a heavy, rhythmic throb that synchronized with the friction of the prosthetic. Every slow, agonizing withdrawal of the shaft created a vacuum of tension, only for the leather and plastic to hammer back against Naomi’s swollen clitoris with the force of a closing trap. It was a visceral, recursive loop of pleasure. Naomi felt the sudden, violent urge to abandon the slow cadence and simply drive herself into Tanya with a blind, frantic speed—to lose herself in the wet slap of skin and the desperate gasps of the girl beneath her.

But she resisted. She tightened her grip on Tanya’s ribs, anchoring herself not just to the body, but to the power of the moment. This was the coronation of a new dynamic, the precise second where a colleague became a possession. To rush the climax would be to waste the exquisite torture of the buildup. Naomi wanted to savor the tremor in Tanya’s thighs and the way her breath hitched in a permanent state of suspension. She wanted this feeling—the absolute, undisputed possession of her first true slave—to stretch out into an infinite, shimmering line of desire.

Tanya’s mind was a storm of conflicting impulses. The pressure of the prosthetic was an anchor in a sea of white noise, and every fiber of her being screamed for the slow, agonizing torture to accelerate into a frantic collision. A plea formed in the back of her throat—a desperate, guttural request for Naomi to stop being an architect and start being a ravager. She wanted to beg, to shatter the silence with a plea for total annihilation, to tell the woman above her to simply take everything until there was nothing left of Tanya but a shaking, breathless shell.

But as the thought crystallized, a new, sharper instinct took hold. To beg was to ask for a favor; to remain silent was to offer a sacrifice. If she was truly to transition from a corporate colleague to a creature of pure response, she had to master the most difficult art of all: the stillness of the object. She realized that her desires were irrelevant to the protocol of this room. If she was to be Naomi’s masterpiece, she could not be the one to dictate the pace of the brushstroke. With a conscious, shuddering effort, Tanya clamped her jaw shut, swallowing the plea, deciding that the highest form of her submission was not found in the asking, but in the absolute patience of the waiting.

Naomi paused, her weight shifting as she surveyed the landscape of Tanya’s back. In the dim light, the skin was a map of recent conquest; the faint, crisscrossing welts from the riding crop had ripened into a deep, blooming crimson, contrasting sharply with the pale fragility of the girl's spine. There was a visceral beauty to the markings, a tangible record of the hour's discipline that made the air feel heavy with a sense of ownership. As she watched the skin pulse with a slow, rhythmic heat, Naomi felt a sudden, sharp craving for something more permanent than a bruise. A riding crop was a tool of precision, but it lacked the sweeping, orchestral violence of a lash. She made a mental note—a command to her future self—to ensure that a heavy leather whip or a set of stinging rawhide thongs remained within arm's reach for their next encounter. The image of those red lines extending across Tanya’s thighs, framing her submission in a border of fire, was an aesthetic she found herself unable to ignore.

With a slow, predatory exhale, Naomi returned her focus to the immediate friction. She abandoned the clinical pace, allowing her own mounting desperation to dictate the rhythm. The slow, agonizing withdrawals shifted into sudden, forceful lunges. Each impact of the harness against Tanya’s backside was accompanied by a wet, slapping sound that echoed through the quiet bedroom, a percussive beat that signaled the collapse of all restraint. Naomi’s breath became a series of ragged gasps, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of Tanya’s ribs, anchoring her to the sheer force of the momentum.

As Naomi drove forward, one of her fingers strayed from the curve of Tanya’s ribs, inadvertently brushing against a breast. The contact was brief, but the nipple—already sensitized and stiff from the cold air and the adrenaline of the encounter—reacted with a violent jolt of electricity. Tanya let out a sharp, broken gasp, her entire body arching upward as if she had been struck by a live wire. The sensation was an unexpected spike of intensity, a sudden focal point of pleasure and pain that threatened to derail the rhythmic momentum of their collision.

Naomi felt the gasp vibrate through Tanya’s skin, and the reaction ignited a new, predatory curiosity. She didn't have a whip in her hand at this moment, but she realized she possessed an instrument just as effective: her own strength. Shifting her grip, Naomi abandoned the ribs and clamped her fingers around the rigid peak of the breast. She didn't tease; she squeezed with a sudden, crushing force, pinning the nipple between her thumb and forefinger and twisting with a deliberate, agonizing precision.

“Y-y-y-yesssss, ” Tanya sighed, the word fracturing into a dozen desperate pieces as the sudden, sharp pinch of Naomi’s fingers sent a bolt of lightning straight to her core. It wasn't a word of agreement—there was nothing left to agree to—but a visceral, guttural admission of defeat. The sound was small, wet, and utterly broken, leaking out of her as her forehead pressed harder into the linens, her entire world narrowing down to the crushing grip on her breast and the relentless, sliding invasion of the vinyl.

The stutter in her voice was the sound of her professional identity finally disintegrating. The polished saleswoman was gone, replaced by a creature whose only vocabulary was a series of rhythmic, desperate affirmations. Every time Naomi twisted her fingers, Tanya felt her resolve snap a little more, the pleasure of the pain acting as a catalyst that pushed her deeper into the void of submission. She was no longer thinking in sentences; she was thinking in sensations: the cold air on her back, the heat of the friction, and the divine, terrifying weight of the woman claiming her.

Something shifted in Naomi. The sound of Tanya’s voice—not as a plea, but as a shattered, guttural surrender—triggered a dormant, darker impulse in her soul. The carefully constructed facade of the "architect" collapsed, replaced by a raw, predatory hunger. She stopped calculating. She stopped pacing. She simply surrendered to the own internal darkness, abandoning the slow torture for a brutal, rhythmic conquest.

Naomi’s hips began to drive forward with a sudden, violent intensity. Each stroke was harder than the last, a relentless hammering that turned the soft sounds of the room into a wet, percussive symphony of collision. She wasn't just filling Tanya; she was claiming her, attempting to erase every boundary between them through sheer, uncompromising force. The leather of the harness groaned under the strain, and Naomi’s own breath became a series of jagged, hungry snarls.

The rhythmic violence reached a crescendo, the boundary between them vanishing as Naomi shifted her weight forward, committing every ounce of her strength to the final, crushing descent. In one fluid, punishing motion, the prosthetic was driven home to its absolute limit. The sudden, total depth of the invasion was punctuated by a sharp, biting sensation as the chrome spikes embedded in the base of the harness pressed firmly into the sensitive skin surrounding the sphincter. They didn't puncture, but they clamped down with a cold, clinical precision, marking the territory of the intrusion.

Tanya’s scream was muffled by the mattress, a guttural sound of shock and ecstasy that vibrated through her entire frame. The spikes acted like an anchor, locking the two women together in a moment of static, agonizing intensity. The pressure was immense, a ring of fire that seemed to weld her to Naomi’s will. As the spikes dug in, Tanya felt a paradoxical sense of completion; she was no longer just being used, she was being branded by the very instrument of her submission.

The internal clock that had been ticking in Naomi’s mind since the morning meeting—a steady, rhythmic accumulation of tension—finally hit the zero hour. She had spent the day cultivating this hunger, staving off the inevitable crest of her own desire while she meticulously dismantled Tanya’s composure. To hold back had been a strategic choice, a way of sharpening the edge of her own pleasure until it was almost unbearable. But as she looked down at the shivering, branded mess of the woman beneath her, the discipline of the "architect" vanished. There was no more reason to delay the collapse.

With a sudden, decisive movement, Naomi released her grip on Tanya’s nipple, leaving the skin there tingling and hypersensitive. In one fluid motion, she shifted her weight, sliding her body forward and diving beneath the arch of Tanya’s hips. She didn't just move; she surged, wedging herself into the narrow, electric space between the mattress and the girl’s trembling thighs. Her hand searched blindly for a heartbeat, then found its mark, her fingers locking onto the swollen, pulsing knot of Tanya’s clitoris.

Naomi’s fingers locked onto the pulsing center of Tanya’s desire with a predatory precision. The synchronization of their bodies had reached a fever pitch; the rhythmic thud of the harness against Tanya’s backside was no longer just a physical act, but a metronome for a total psychological collapse. Naomi leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of Tanya’s ear, her voice transforming into a sharp, commanding blade that sliced through the haze of pleasure.

She didn't just speak the command; she timed it to the violence of her hips. With a sudden, forceful thrust that drove the shaft deep into Tanya’s bowels, Naomi barked, "Cum!" The word was a physical blow, a trigger that sent a shockwave of involuntary contraction through Tanya’s walls. Before the echo of the command could fade, Naomi withdrew and slammed home again, punctuating the second strike with a guttural, "For!" Tanya’s body buckled, her mind fracturing under the weight of the demand, her internal muscles clamping down in a desperate, instinctive rhythm. “Your..." thrust... "Mistress!” Naomi grunted.

Tanya shrieked, the words, "Y-y-yes-s-s, thank you, Mistress!" tearing from her throat in a jagged, desperate harmony with the slamming of the harness. The phrase wasn't just an acknowledgment; it was a surrender of the last remaining barricade in her mind. As she spoke the word *Mistress*, she felt the final thread of her professional composure snap. The realization that she was no longer a peer, no longer a colleague, but a creature owned and operated by the woman above her, acted as the final catalyst.

At that exact moment of vocal submission, Tanya’s body betrayed her in the most absolute way possible. A violent, systemic shudder ripped through her frame, starting at the base of her spine and radiating outward to her bound fingertips. The orgasm didn't arrive as a wave, but as a landslide—a crushing, white-hot collapse that left her gasping and blind. Simultaneously, Naomi felt the internal walls of Tanya’s body clamp down in a series of frantic, rhythmic spasms, gripping the dildo with a desperation that mirrored the girl's mental break. The synchronization was perfect; the verbal obedience and their physical climaxes collided, fusing Tanya’s identity to her role as a slave in a single, explosive instant.