Yup, I'm listening to all feedback. Also, I intend this to be a long story, with many parts. Let's see how it goes.
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Chapter 6. Sunday, bloody Sunday
When I came back from the diner, with Carrie's number written across my pubic area, I was slightly shivering. I was just giving up control to this little twerp. She now knows that she could make me do nearly anything she wanted me to. I was controlled by my pussy and she held the buttons to that. I convinced myself that If I did ever develop a semblance of a backbone and stand up to her she'd blackmail me with all the videos she took of me today. Even though I did to Carrie, I didn't want to admit to myself that I wanted this.
As if to reinforce my self persuasions, I could see her recording my walk towards the car. I looked down and I saw how vulgar the writing looked on my body.
Which girl in her right mind would allow anybody to do this to her?
More pertinently, is said girl too far gone if she is aroused by being owned and toyed with in this fashion?
No. I fought back tears. I wouldn't be aroused by being dominated by just anybody. It was Jane. The look on her pixie face. There was something about her. A side of her, and mine, that I didn't know until yesterday. I somehow wanted to please her. To fulfill her dares. Requests. Orders. Commands. Instructions. Rules.
Rules. Where did that come from?
I shuddered.
Her evil grin was replaced by a wry smirk as she closed her phone and started the car. My guts twitched in a slight resurgence of arousal as I buckled up. I didn't even bother dressing. My naked ass stuck uncomfortably to the leather. My vagina squelched distinctly as I re positioned myself. I blushed. The seat was very wet and sticky. And it was my doing entirely.
We were both quiet all through the brief ride back. Sometimes I wonder why we even drive to this place. It is just a mile away. Oh, wait, I thought to myself. Did I now want to do the embarrassing trip on foot? Genius.
Jane didn't say anything, but I could see her lips moving quietly, in an ever present smile as she thought to herself. She had a new toy to play with. Not a half a foot barbie doll but a bimbo who was taller and older than her. I again went into a brain freeze.
I could feel her glancing at me. She knew I was mulling over the events since the game yesterday. I dimly registered her pulling into the basement parking lot of the building instead of the empty lots near the driveway. I felt slightly thankful for that.
The basement was empty except for cars. She got out and reached into the back as I unbuckled. I slowly started focusing on the present. She fished out my top.
She dropped it on my thighs. "Clean the car and then yourself with it dear." I obediently got out and proceeded to soil the only piece of clothing that sufficiently covered me this afternoon with my own secretions. I could feel her inspecting me from behind all through the task. Once the seat was clean, I dabbed it between my thighs to dry myself.
I looked at her, having finished the disgusting chore, the damp top in my hand. She looked back at me expectantly. She was staring as if she was waiting for me to say something. Her lips became narrow. I thought back furiously as to what she expected.
It occurred to me a full minute later. Or so it felt.
The red flag rule. If I didn't suggest something incrementally humiliating to any order she gave me, it was the equivalent of a red flag. A safe word. I almost forgot the devious rule. I was surprised she remembered it. I shuddered at the deviousness of it.
I pushed away thoughts of what she would do if I did raise the red flag. Instead I spent my dwindling brain power coming up with this.
"Can I wear this top back for the rest of the day?"
Did I detect relief in her face? The inscrutable smile soon replaced any trace of emotion. I couldn't believe I said that. That little bit of cloth was now positively pungent. I couldn't imagine bringing it close to my body.
"As your only clothing? Yes you may. And thanks for suggesting that." She said picking up the food and climbing the stairs.
Of course I didn't mean that. This was terrible. I wanted to argue. To rebel. But then, being bottomless in the apartment didn't seem like much after what I had done at the diner.
I pulled my top up by stepping into it. No way was I bringing it close to my face. It was smelling badly by the time I pulled it up to cover my boobs.
I groaned as I remembered April. How am I going to explain this to her? Should I even face her like this. I still couldn't judge how she'd react. In the end I decided I didn't want to risk our friendship.
I then had a stroke of genius. Maybe it was because no one was looking at my pussy. I decided to somehow sneak past her and go to my room. Jane had not specifically ordered me to come up and face April. If she had done that right then, I'd have rebelled. I couldn't care less if she blackmailed me. She'd have to do it in front of April.
I ran up. If Jane had any further of her games to play today, she'd have to text me, I thought wryly.
This was my mini-rebellion. How sick was that?
I don't exactly remember how I sneaked past the pair watching TV and eating food. I didn't think about what explanation Jane gave for my absence. I went up and plonked myself on the bed and pulled up the sheets and went into a blissful dreamless sleep..
I was woken up that evening by the door to my room creaking. It was April. I had my eyes tightly shut, and sheets firmly pulled up. She paused for about a minute, as if in a dilemma to whisper something and wake me up, but then she decided against it and closed the door. I went back to sleep again.
Eventually I got up and looked at the time. It was 7 pm. For the rest of the night I buried myself in my coursework and assignments. I occasionally broke off to check Facebook and get a cautious snack from the fridge.
I still wasn't disobeying Jane for some reason. I didn't even see Jane or April for the rest of the night. Having gotten rid of most of my coursework, I fell asleep again while reviewing a paper for my prof.
Sunday morning. The first thing I did was get rid of my top. It was plastered to my chest. I had to peel it off. I threw it in my laundry basket and took a long shower, washing away all the events of yesterday. It seemed like a long time ago. Sociology research and coursework helped forget.
I came out having dried myself with the spare towel I kept in my hanger. I tugged at my wardrobe door. It didn't budge. I sighed as I remembered. The key was with Jane. I was now terribly annoyed at myself for giving her the key and submitting to her. I tied the towel around me. It covered me sufficiently, considering what I wore yesterday. I still couldn't digest the fact that I obeyed that little bitch and wore that excuse for a skirt to the diner, flashing some strangers. I cringed at the thought and sat on the bed, slightly depressed.
I spent ages there before working up the courage to text Jane. I wanted to demand my key back. I wanted to actually confront her! I felt very different from myself from yesterday. I had grown a backbone overnight. The fact that at the end of the night I hadn't received any sexual satisfaction might have something to do with it.
"Give me my keys." I sent to Jane. I immediately regretted it. "As an after thought, I added: "Please"
I started pacing the room. Why was I so sick? Why did I do all the things she ordered me to do yesterday. I shuddered and cringed. She was outrageous in her demands, and I complied. She made a grown woman go bottomless into a cafe and then forced her to beg to strip and go in again. The fact that I was the woman was just hitting me hard. I had force myself not to cry as I remembered the videos she must have made. Why did I have this idiotic tie between my arousal and self destruction?
Should I seek professional help? I pictured myself explaining my situation to a therapist and cringed again. My phone rang. It was not Jane, but April.
"Hey." I said.
"Hey G," She sounded cautious. "Are you okay?"
