The Serf

It's a Saturday evening, and I'm out with my three BFFs. Naturally I have Sophie with us. BFF #1, Isabelle, has a date with her. BFF #3, Ellie has a friend with her. Only BFF#2, Reagan, is without a companion in our little group, but she's also the only one of us who doesn't attend USA. The little traitor headed off to FSU (of all the schools!) just because they have a better law school!

We're at the Soul Kitchen downtown. It's a club that serves what I call "sorta-food," meaning pizza slices, burgers, dogs, nachos, and fries. It's not a Soul club, despite its name. It's one of the bigger and better clubs downtown Mobile. They have every kind of music imaginable on one night or another. It's the place where the third rate big-name groups, the best ones that ever come to Mobile, tend to play when they pass through town, regardless of what genre of music they play. It's rock tonight, a local band that's good enough to play the casinos of Biloxi on their off nights. This means about the best level of a band that will play a steady gig here in this town!

We're celebrating. Out beloved Jaguars just whipped up on Jackson State 37-14. Sure, Jackson state is a SWAC team, a clear step down from our Jag's Sun Belt conference, but hey, a win is a win! Just ask anyone on campus! Besides, USA is the third best-known and best-respected of our state's three top-level universities behind Alabama and Auburn. The four of us were accepted at all three of them, we picked USA to stay close to home. But a good football season will definitely bump our repute up a few a notches! We'll never be number one, at least not as long as Alabama hangs on to Nick Saban, anyway. I know, that's football not academics. In Alabama, there's no distinction. A school's reputation is its football team!

I'm known here. This means the bartender knows who I am and knows that Sophie is my slave. And doesn't care that I bring her in on her leash, as I often do, as long as Sophie is game for it. He knows, in general, about my lifestyle as well. I've brought a few toys here over the months I've had an apartment downtown. Here and a few other clubs with music I can stand. I'm not exactly a regular here, but I'm "known." Like most of the bartenders in this little place that Mobile tries to pass off as an entertainment district, he welcomes me. My "little show," of Sophie on her leash, tends to raise eyebrows, which means it draws a few more people in. Which any bartender in a district of bars would love me for. Hence I get better-than-average treatment here.

Tonight the seven of us have a big table, up fairly close to the band and the dance floor. With five cute girls and only two guys at the table, we haven't bought a round of drinks yet. It seems there's always some guy so sweetly sending us a round.

I'm known, among my friends anyway, for my infamous one-time-only, no-names, hook-ups with guys I meet in places just like this. I'm sure I'm known around the club for them, too. I don't care. I don't have, and don't want to have, a boyfriend. I have my live-in slave-girl, Sophie. And I have my friends who really understand me. There's only one thing more a boyfriend could offer me, and this place has an unlimited supply of that. Plus I can shop around, browse the menu, and pick the guy with the nicest equipment for the night. So far, none have ever said no! And I'm seriously thinking about picking one of these guys to scratch an itch for me tonight. I think Izzy knows it, too. She's been trying to point out a guy she says is the cutest in here. He's definitely cute. Now, if he happens to be well-equipped too, he might have a fun night!

It's not the table next to us, it's the one after that, a table that might seat three along the wall that's constantly drawing our attention. There's a middle-aged couple sitting there, which is nothing worthy of notice in here. Our server has already commented on what a jerk the guy is. For her, that's about the worst insult she'll verbalize about a customer. And he is being a complete ass to his girl.

And she's just sitting there, taking it. She looks cowed. Like this isn't a rare night out for her. She just lets him go on berating her loudly and rather obnoxiously. Mostly she just hangs her head. But I've seen more than one longing glance our way. I doubt she's even hearing the music.

I agree with our server. The guy is a jerk. What I'd really like to do is go over and pop him. I won't, I've yet to start a bar fight anywhere. That's so not me! But I would happily give him a piece of my mind. I love my first amendment! After a while of it, I start watching them. It's hard not to. They seem to have more than their fair share of attention. I asked, and our server told me, that the bartender doesn't like him either and wouldn't mind a bit if he took his drinks elsewhere. Not that they'd actually say that to a paying customer, at least one who doesn't start a bar fight.

It seems like no one appreciates him. More of those close enough to hear him are making a point of ignoring them. It's not what he says to her. I've said all of the same things to subs. I've told them they were fat, ugly, worthless, whores, and everything else. It's not even so much the way he says it. Sure, he's berating her, but I do that to subs as well. It takes me a few minutes to put my finger on what's irking me.

It's not him, it's her. It's the way she seems to be afraid. Not afraid like that he's holding a gun on her, kind of afraid. But more the kind of fear of a woman who believes she'll be hurt if she doesn't please this jackass. And clearly, he's never going to be pleased with her or anyone else. The kind of fear that says she's submitting more from fear than of a deep desire to serve and please him.

And then I see her. The look on her face as she looks over upon Sophie for a fleeting glance. A look of envy. He slaps her, hard, leaving a handprint on her face and tells her to pay attention to him. Again, I would have done the same thing to one of my subs had she not been giving me her full attention. But I've never had a sub tremble in her seat from a slap to her face. That's true fear.

My BFFs are watching the couple, too. Izzy's date and Ellie's friend, our two guys, seem to be about ready to say something to him. Boys! Always wanting to show off for a date! Although I would bet on either of these two against this twerp in a bar fight. None of us have much tolerance for women abusers. Then again, we're women so we have a soft spot for women!

She glances at Sophie again. I see the look on her face. Envious of the leashed Sophie. Almost hungry. And afraid of her man. Almost as if it's a silent plea.

"I've had enough of this cretin," I say to my table. I hand Sophie's leash to Izzy just because she's the BFF closest to me. "Hold on to my slave for a minute, will you Izzy?" I ask. Without waiting for an answer I'm on my feet.

I cross over to their table. I'm tiny at 5' 1.75" and 91 pounds. With him seated I'm bare a few inches over his head. Or at least it seems that way. I don't care. I stare at him. "I speak for everyone in here. We've had enough of you abusing this toy. It doesn't worship you, it's afraid of you. And it looks like with good reason. You don't deserve a toy. I'm taking it."

I turn to the woman, "whomever you are, you belong to me now. You will get up and come with me like a good girl. Say nothing. I haven't given you permission to speak. Obey. Come."

The woman stands, her clutch already clutched in her hands. It appears to be all she has with her. If she has a phone, I guess it's in the little purse.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, cunt!" the guy balks as he rises to his feet, showing me that he's got me by a good foot and a hundred pounds. He turns back to his date, "sit your skanky ass down, bitch!" then he turns back to me, "get the fuck out of here before I kick your ass, too!"

My ass hasn't been kicked since the sixth grade. I might have deserved it though. A girl was always boasting, obnoxiously, about how pretty she was. So I stole her clothes in the gym's locker room, and her towel, and had her searching all over the locker room for something to put on. Naked. Which got her laughed at. Stopped her from being such a braggy bitch, though.

I don't flinch or tremble or back down. I stand my ground. I am a southern girl through and through, and down south, we love 'stand your ground." Out of a corner of my eye I see the woman. She's frozen in place, neither sitting back down nor moving. She just trembles, and has this look of utter "lost" on her face, as if she's not sure whom to obey now. Her eyes dart between the two of us. After a second she moves, taking a step that puts me between her and him.

"I am the 'bitch' who just took your toy from you. That's who I think I am. I think I'll keep it, too." I just grin at him. I can't see it, but I know, beyond a doubt, Reagan is making a video of this. She videos just everything for her Facebook page. She'd never miss anything this interesting.

There are maybe 18 inches between him and me. I see him wind up to sucker punch me. Me! A girl literally half his size! What a loser! Behind me I hear some, more than a couple, of chairs moving as their occupants get to their feet. I doubt this clown has any reinforcements here. I don't either, but it sounds like a few guys don't approve of this moron any more than I do.

But I am a southern girl, through and through. I slip a Taser out of my back pocket. A girl has to be able to protect herself! And Tasers are legal for anyone over 18 and not a convicted felon to carry in this state without a permit. I time it well and step into his punch. As I do, I bring my Taser up. It's not a gun-type; it's the type you have to touch a guy with. Much easier to conceal on a small body. My friend Janelle, a sheriff's deputy in the neighboring county, gave it to me for my 18th birthday. She's a good friend and understands that a girl has to take care of herself. I bring the Taser up, putting it's pointy little metal tips right between his legs. And I push the button.

It is the most amusing thing I've ever seen. He drops, straight to the ground, peeing himself even before his butt is on the floor. Only then do I step back from him. He sits a second, getting control of his bladder, and twitching. Around us a round of applause breaks out. I very quickly glance around and see about a dozen guys who ready to step in and teach this creep a lesson about mistreating pretty little ladies. As he's getting his wits back, the server comes over to him and drops his check on him. Literally drops it right on him. Talk about a not-too-subtle hint!

It's maybe a minute later. The woman is standing in the same place, just behind and to the right of me, clutching her purse, her head down and demurely silent. But I swear I see a hint of a smirk on her face. And she's not trembling now.

A cop, in uniform, walks over. I'd just seen him talking to the bartender, and watching something on Reagan's phone. That would have to be the video I knew she'd get. He asks me if I'm alright. I say I'm fine. He looks down at the guy who's managed to drag himself about halfway to his feet. "One, pay up and go somewhere. Two, go to Metro. Pick now." By Metro the cop means the infamous Mobile County Metro Jail, a notoriously filthy jail in a state known for filthy dungeons passed off as jails. Not a place you'd go if you have a choice. Any choice. He grumbles about it, trying to get the cop to see it his way, that he was just protecting his girl and I cruelly assaulted him. The cop laughs and says "since you're still here, I guess you want to spend the weekend in Metro." the creep tosses some money on the table and starts walking, kind of stumbling, towards the door. He makes a comment about it not being over. The bartender tells him "don't come back." The band stopped playing with the punch. About a third of the crowd is on their feet, most of them singing a chorus of "Hey, Hey, Goodbye!" or a slightly less polite improvisation on it, as the guy hobbles out. I hope he's gotten the message that he's worn out his welcome here. The cop asks me again if I'm okay. I reassure him that I'm fine. Then I turn to the woman who is still standing in the exact same place. "you may go if you wish. I'm sure this officer will ensure you get home unmolested by that turkey-butt. If you wish to leave, go now."

She doesn't move. She doesn't speak. She stands there. The officer sees that, and he follows the guy out. Probably to make sure he walks away. And doesn't drive away, or just plain drive. DUI is a felony in Alabama. Cops might overlook an assault, which is another way of saying attempted battery, a swing that missed, but they won't overlook a DUI. I don't doubt this cop wouldn't mind getting that guy on an open-and-shut felony, either.

Seeing that the woman hasn't moved, I assume that's her choice, she doesn't wish to leave now, while it's safe to do so. And she certainly doesn't wish to go find that chicken-poop date of hers. I point to the empty chair beside Sophie. Not mine, but the one on her other side. "Go sit there beside my slave. She will show you how to sit like a lady. I'll deal with your bottom later."

"Yes... Ma'am?" she says in a very demure and quiet voice, her tone saying she's unsure how to address me. She doesn't hesitate to walk over and doesn't drag her feet getting to the seat. When she gets there, she takes a second to look at Sophie, a little gleam in her eyes, before she sits. She copies Sophie's posture exactly. She sits with her eyes forward and her mouth shut.

I take my seat. The band resumes their set. Drinks, fries, and nachos appear on our table. Around us I can hear a few guys commenting on "that had to hurt." I assume they mean the Tasing to creep-o's balls. Guys are always so sensitive about those! Whoever send this round sent one for the new woman as well. It's given to her and I tell her she's free to sip it. The server here knows to bring my table soda water flavored with fruit and nothing alcoholic, so I trust that whatever was ordered for us, the server stuck to the unwritten "girl-code" and brought me what I wanted to be brought. She's good about that.

I don't talk to the woman much. I mostly tell her that I will "deal with her bottom later," and that she should sit there, enjoy the drinks and music, and behave "her little butt." She does all of that. She never shows that cringing fear, the trembling, or a bit of unhappiness. She looks almost relaxed for a bit. And she's very polite to me when I do speak to her. Humbly polite. Clearly this woman is a sub, and I'd somehow just known she was, and has some experience "on bottom."

We're there about two more hours before the band's set is over, we've drunk our fill, and the chili fries have mysteriously vanished... As we go to leave, Izzy and Ellie both say they're heading off with their "friends." I'm sure they have... something in mind. I ask Reagan if she'd like to come back to my place. She accepts. I have Sophie's leash for the walk back. I tell Sophie to take the woman's hand and "bring it with us." I don't even know the woman's name yet. I haven't asked, and she hasn't spoken without being spoken too. Such good manners! Hearing my instructions, she holds a hand out offering it to Sophie. Sophie eagerly takes it, and I lead them out. We walk back to my place, where my car and Reagan's are parked. It's only a couple of short blocks.

Once we get to my apartment I stop the woman just inside the door and point her to an empty place along the wall. She stands there, not seeming unhappy about it. More as if she's accepting of it, and hopeful. I keep this little place devoid of furniture just to "welcome" subs to my apartment. I send Sophie to make a pot of coffee for us. Reagan and I sit on the sofa while she shows me the videos she's made. Which are already on her Facebook feed. There's the one of me Tasing the jerk. And she has one of him hobbling out of the club, clutching his balls, to a resounding chorus of disdain. She sends me both.

Sophie serves Reagan and me a cup of coffee. She serves it on her knees, offering it out atop upturned palms in a very humbly subservient display. With the widest of smiles on her face. I thank her, lightly stroking her head for a moment to make sure she knows I'm very pleased with her tonight. The woman stands quiet, but I know she's watching everything. I can see it. And I can see the look on her face. It's one of such high hope as if she's praying her lottery ticket is the magic one just before checking that last number.

"Well, let's see my new toy." I say turning to the woman. "give my slave every single thing you have." I smile to Sophie and tell her to "put this toy's things up." She eagerly hurries over and stands off to the woman's side with a hand out.

She's about 35 or 36 I'd guess by looking at her. I'll find out later if she stays. If she isn't happy with me and my style, I'll boot her in a second. I'm not that mouse-turd. I don't use fear to control my subs. My subs are on their knees by their choice or gone. She's taller than me, maybe 5'6" or so, but has a lean and curvy look to her. I'd guess around 125 pounds. She has very short, "boy short" black hair. But it looks good on her, not butchy as it doesn't a lot of women.

Tonight she's wearing a red knit stub dress with short sleeves that covers her to about mid-thigh with medium-high-heels. It's nice and definitely date-appropriate. Unlike many women, she doesn't start with her shoes. She pulls her dress off first, without even a blush. Then again, it's just us girls in the room, too. She hands Sophie the dress, which leaves her in her heels, a pair of skimpy fire-engine-red lace panties and a matching bra. The bra is next in Sophie's hands. Then her panties. Her shoes are last. I wonder if he dictated that to her, to save those shoes for last. Men have this thing about naked ladies in high-heels. Of course I would have her in spiky-high-heels for that.

She stands with her arms at her sides, showing us an unimpeded view of her frontal nakedness. And still has that so-hopeful look on her face and its smile that she tries to hold in, but still shows. And it's nervousness in her eyes as if she's afraid that she might not measure up to my standards now that I have a full view of her in good lighting. After all, she's around 15 years older than I am. Women can be sensitive about their bodies! Reagan has seen enough in my apartment that this doesn't bother her one bit. After all, it's just a naked girl. Sophie has been naked plenty with all of my BFFs around her. Sophie's pretty and I love to show her off.

It lets me see that my initial guesses on her height and weight were close, if not spot-on. It lets me see her oval face with its high cheekbones and softened features. She has some pretty dark brown eyes, a slightly wide nose, and a wide mouth with full light-pink lips. And I can see a glimmer of a bright smile behind those lips. I can see a lean body with a flat stomach and a well-defined curve to her waist. Lean arms and legs with just enough fat that they look very feminine and shapely instead of too-lean-bony. And skin that's tanned a barely-noticeable light olive-bronze.

It lets me see her breasts, too. Not too big, I'm guessing she's a 34-C, which is about a perfect size for her frame. Not saggy or hanging, either. Just shapely and large, not too-pert or rounded, like "falsies" would be, either. Nor are they pointy. They're more like half oranges on her chest with the rounded side downward, then her chest gently sloping outward to meet the far rim of that rounded bowl. It leaves a small crease where they meet her chest. And she has some slightly wide dark-pink nipples surrounded by proportional rings of color a scant shade lighter. Those nipples are standing out rick-hard for me, too, letting me see that they have a very slight rounding to their tip which gives them an equally slight edge-rim to their top. They look like they'll be fairly firm, like a hard wet sponge, in my hand.