Welcome to my world where all women are lesbians and all lesbians are squirters and absolutely everyone is in to heavy BDSM. This story contains elements of consensual humiliation and a lot of sex. Our heroine continues to be degraded in her own home by her precious mean girl and her lover as a new dynamic emerges. As always, comments are welcome.
*****
Dr. Victoria Reynolds was beginning to get nervous.
The middle-aged slave was currently naked, collared and plugged and kneeling on the carpet next to the coffee table in her own living room. She shifted slightly on her knees, feeling the familiar weight of the thick, metal rings adorning her vagina and nipples. The small gold bells affixed to her nipples tinkled musically whenever she changed position. The heavy brass lock threaded through her six labial rings dangled between her legs.
The slave glanced at the clock on the mantle. She had been waiting for the couple she was hosting for over five minutes now.
What was taking them so long?
The slave was giddy with anticipation. She had just been informed that she would be allowed to masturbate for the amusement of her young mistress and her lover, Thomas. She was looking forward to it immensely. Rebecca, her twenty-seven year old mistress, had not allowed the slave to cum for almost two months.
The slave's pussy was already tingling in anticipation. She could feel her desire dripping down the insides of her thighs. Unconsciously she turned herself slightly toward the corner of the table. The broad mahogany surface of the black table was lacquered and smooth, but this one corner was chipped and pitted, pock-marked like the surface of the moon. A wave of self-loathing washed over the slave as she eyed the stark, physical evidence of her own debasement.
Finally, there was the sound of footsteps, then out of the corner of her eye, the slave saw the man enter the room, carrying a champagne bottle and two glasses. She was careful to keep her gaze on the floor. The man ignored the slave and placed the champagne and glasses on the table and sat down heavily on the couch, blithely placing his wing-tipped clad feet up on the table.
The mother and housewife in the slave wanted to scream at him to get his fucking feet off her nice coffee table, but of course the slave said nothing. She had strict instructions from her mistress: the slave was not permitted to speak to the man during their sessions without her permission.
A moment later, the slave heard the sound of Rebecca's high heels clicking on the hardwood floor behind her. The footfalls softened as the young mistress gained the carpet of the living room.
"Here's your key, darling," said Rebecca cheerily, setting down a large glass bowl filled almost to the brim with amber liquid on to the coffee table.
The slave looked at the glass bowl for several long beats. She knew immediately that it contained urine. She could smell it. She could see the gold key to her lock twinkling at the bottom of the bowl.
Rebecca sat down on the couch and crossed her legs nimbly. She reached out and took Thomas by the hand. The slave looked up at the couple expectantly.
"Do you still want to jingle your rings for us, Dr. Reynolds?" asked the beautiful young resident mildly. "Put on a good show?"
The slave looked over at the bowl, then back at her mistress.
"Yes, Miss Rebecca," she answered softly.
The young mistress beamed down at her.
"Let's play a game, Victoria," said Rebecca smiling down at the slave. "I call it 'choose or lose.' Basically I will give a choice of two tasks to complete. If you successfully complete one of the tasks, you can masturbate for us tonight. If, on the other hand, you decide that the tasks are both too onerous and you decline to complete either one, then you will lose the privilege of getting off tonight and I will add two months of additional enforced abstinence."
The slave remained still, staring at the shiny key at the bottom of the bowl. The lock dangling between her legs felt heavier than ever.
"Do you want to play my little game?" asked Rebecca playfully.
The slave looked up at her young mistress.
"Yes, Miss Rebecca," she said sheepishly.
"Wonderful," said Rebecca, reaching behind her back and producing a long plastic straw. She handed it to the slave.
The slave stared at the straw in her hand, then over at the bowl. Her eyes widened in panic.
"Choice number one is simple: drink the entire contents of the bowl in fifteen minutes or less," said Rebecca evenly.
The slave looked over at the large bowl. She estimated it contained more than two quarts of urine. The slave looked up at Rebecca bleakly.
The young mistress smiled down at the kneeling slave.
"It's a mixed brew, mine and Thomas's," she said casually.
Rebecca stood up and stepped around the kneeling slave and the coffee table, walking to the center of the large living room. She began to pace slowly back and forth. The slave craned her neck and tracked her young mistress with her eyes.
Thomas remained seated. He looked at his watch. He appeared bored.
"Becca, is this really necessary?" he asked impatiently. "Why not just let the old cunt get off, so we can go upstairs and fuck like regular humans?"
"Now, now, Thomas," replied Rebecca silkily. "Where's the fun in that? She hasn't even heard her second choice yet."
Rebecca stopped pacing and sat down on the edge of the coffee table. She patted the kneeling slave on the head.
"You do want to hear what's behind door number two, don't you sweetie?" she asked breezily.
The slave hesitated for a beat, then replied.
"Yes, Miss Rebecca."
"Oh, that's great. I can see you're going to be a good sport, Victoria. Your second task is a bit more complicated. You can start it tonight, but you'll have to complete it tomorrow."
"Yes, Miss Rebecca," said the slave.
"Remember when you introduced me to your next door neighbor, Marta?" asked Rebecca slyly.
The slave was immediately put on guard. Rebecca visited her home frequently, even when friends and family were present, under the pretense of being mentored by the veteran surgeon. After all, the younger doctor was a surgical resident and Victoria was a respected attending vascular surgeon. Why wouldn't Dr. Reynolds take Rebecca under her wing?
As a result, Rebecca frequently attended dinner parties at the older physician's house and was often included in other activities with her circle of friends. On these occasions, the two women treated one another with respectful collegiality. No one would have suspected in a million years, that they were mistress and slave. Every now and then, they would discretely disappear into a powder room for a quick tongue session when the need arose, but for the most part they played it straight.
It was at one of these lawn parties a few months earlier that Rebecca had been introduced to Marta. She was a a curvy cheerful fifty-something neighbor who favored mannish clothing, thick-soled black boots and crewcuts. A successful sculptor who made her fortune decades ago, she carried her legendary sexuality like a badge of honor. Her arms were covered in tattoos, many of them overtly sexual in design.
"I'm the neighborhood bulldyke," she had said to Rebecca casually as they shook hands.
Rebecca matched the firmness of the woman's grip, then admired the large tattoo on her forearm. It portrayed two shapely brunettes lovingly entwined in the sixty-nine position.
"That's an interesting tattoo," said Rebecca, releasing Marta's hand.
Marta looked down at the tattoo and shrugged.
"You know what they say. You are what you eat, sugar" she had replied coyly, then looked over at Victoria. "Been trying to get in Vicky's pants for years now, but she's not having any of it," added the burly woman, smiling conspiratorially. It was obvious that the older woman was drunk.
Victoria had turned crimson at the remark.
"Marta, please!" hissed Victoria, "I work with these people. Take it easy on the wine, won't you?"
"See what I mean?" said Marta, looking at Rebecca appraisingly. "She's no fun at all, a complete square."
Then the large woman had placed her left hand on Rebecca's right elbow.
"What about you, sweetie?" she had slurred. "You seem like a firecracker. Nice young doctor like you, I could teach you a thing or two."
Rebecca had eyed the older woman's hand cooly for a few seconds before reaching up and gently prizing the fingers from the crook of her arm.
"I don't think my boyfriend would appreciate that," she had responded playfully.
"Oh, well. Suit yourself," Marta said dismissively, already perusing the crowd for other potential conquests. "But if you change your mind, you know where I live," she had added indicating the large Tudor house next door.
The slave was snapped back to the here and now when Rebecca reached down and twisted both nipple rings fiercely, setting her bells ringing loudly.
"I asked you a question, cunt," she snapped down at Victoria.
"Yes, Miss Rebecca. Sorry. Yes, I remember, Miss Rebecca," she responded warily.
Rebecca paused for a few seconds, then reached down and cupped the slave's chin with her right hand, tilting her face upward until their eyes met.
"Your second option is to call Marta right now and invite her over for coffee tomorrow morning," said Rebecca archly.
The slave looked up into the younger woman's eyes, a pained expression on her face. She could see where this was going.
