The door was unlocked and light turned on much earlier than I expected. I was still tied naked to the bed in the spare room with the penis dildo in my mouth. I had had a disturbed night thinking how my secretary, Tracey, had taken over my life while my husband, Jake, took her as his new mistress.
"We've got to get you ready for work," Tracey said. "Now, I'm going to take the dildo off. If you say one word, it will go back in and that's how you'll go to work. Do you understand?"
I nodded. She took off the penis dildo. It was such a relief that I could move my jaw. I put my hands together and pointed at my lips trying to plead to be allowed to speak.
"Sex slaves are to be seen and not heard. You keep that trap of yours closed unless I ask you something. And then you only say YES, NO or as little as needed. NO questions. Understand?"
I nodded again, with a sinking heart.
She led me to the bathroom. "Go ahead, go to the toilet." I looked at her expecting her to leave. She just stood there. I was always being surprised how much more they could humiliate me. Being watched over while going to the toilet made me feel like less than nothing. I guess that was the point.
Jake came in at this point. Any hope of help from him disappeared as he gave Tracey a big hug, pushed back her robe (my former robe) and started playing with her huge tits. I didn't have any breasts for him to enjoy. But he didn't need to do that right in front of me while I was on the toilet! I was utterly gutted.
He slipped her robe off her gently. "Ah, this is what a real woman looks like." He stroked her breasts and looked at her naked body.
She looked down at herself. "Yes. A much better body than the slutty thing sitting on the toilet." I didn't know why she had to be so mean. All I could do was to sit and take it. Jake left.
"Okay, cum scum. Into the shower you go. Can't have you going into work looking like that."
I got up and into the shower. I instinctively pulled the shower curtain around.
"No, no, slut. I want to make sure you get all the cum off you. I can just imagine you leaving some to enjoy during the day."
Well, I certainly couldn't imagine that! Terrified to speak, I simply did as told. Once again, more humiliation was heaped on me than I ever dreamed. She handed me a new soap and shampoo. They actually felt quite good and soothing to the skin. I dried myself off. She then led me into my, now her, bedroom. She sat me down in front of a mirror and started applying make-up. I was never much one for wearing make-up. She certainly knew how to apply it. By the time she finished, I looked about twenty years younger.
"Yes, that's pretty good. Okay, tit-less (I winched), go to your room. My husband has laid out your clothes for the day."
Again, the crush of reality hit. I was truly being stripped of everything from my old life. I entered the room and almost fainted. There was a short, sexy black dress and red, low cut, short sleeved blouse, a small read purse with chains seemingly all over it and four inch stilettos on the floor. These were much too young for me! I'd look like mutton dressed as lamb. And there were no knickers. With heart racing, I put everything on.
I looked in the mirror and was pleasantly surprised. The shower soaps had nicely moisturised my skin. And the make-up took more than 20 years off my looks, when combined with the clothes. The red top had lovely padding and hugged my torso and showed just a little of my flat stomach as I moved. The dress was incredibly short on me but now showed off my incredible looking legs. One side had a slit so that that, when I moved, my thigh was exposed all the way up to the thin piece of elastic holding it all together. It would make it obvious that I wasn't wearing knickers when the fabric moved. The writs, ankle and neck leather straps were still on me. I might be mutton but I did look like a lamb tart, and a very shapely and convincing one at that.
I had a bit of bounce in my step as I went to find them in the house. Jake was duly impressed. "She's the perfect sex slave toy now. She's just screaming 'Take Me'! Well done, sweaty."
At first I thought he was referring to me as 'sweaty.' That stopped as he gave Tracey a big hug.
I wanted to know about the knickers. I didn't really mind the new look. I just wanted a bit of safety and restraint. I'd have to be incredibly careful how I walked and sat to ensure I wasn't on show, so to speak. I raised my hand to ask.
Tracey looked me with an evil smile. "Do you think I should let her speak?"
"Sure, why not."
"Because I suspect I know what it's about." She looked at me. "Lift up your skirt."
That was like a slap in the face. It was very different being naked in front of her to being told to lift up my dress for inspection. But I did as told.
"That's as I thought. She's wants to know about her knickers."
"You should let her ask," Jake said sympathetically.
Tracey continued with that evil smile on her face. "Not on your life. Let her suffer in ignorance! After all the things she's said and done to me over the years, I'm out for maximum revenge."
My heart sank to the floor. I preferred to think of myself as demanding high standards, correcting when appropriate and disciplining if needed. Jake had been to a few office parties and told me afterwards that most staff did not quite see me that way. I guess I was now finding out just how upsetting I was perceived. I looked to Jake for help.
"Well, I've given her to you so what you say goes." Crushed again. "Well, tit-less tart, best sit down and eat your breakfast." At least it was real food! It also gave me a chance to practice sitting down. This was going to be a long, hard day.
Tracey and Jake left first, after telling me to clean up. I always expected, well I guess now I should say demanded, her to be in before I arrived to ensure she had all my work lined up for me. Today, though, I wish she had come in with me.
Cleaning up on four inch heels was a real trial. I was again glad for the chance to practice as I had never worn such a thing. By the time I left, I was rather expert at walking and sitting. In the purse were my keys, travel card and a simple non-smart phone. They left me with no money, credit cards or means to get money. That was disappointing and worrying. Yet more of my former life was being stripped away. There was nothing I could do. I slung the purse over my shoulder and walked out the door with as much courage as I could muster. What I hadn't expected were the looks, from both men and women. I was strangely turned on by how their eyes followed me. I'm sure tongues would have hung out of mouths if we hadn't been in public.
Standing was much safer than sitting down. But after a few stops, my feet became tired from the heels. I carefully took a seat. It was a shock to feel the fabric on so much of my leg. I was sure some of my butt was on the seat fabric as well. This sent pins and needles through me. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. A few of the men sitting opposite me noticed my discomfort. I quickly buried my nose in a paper to avoid their leering stares.
Then I got a wicked idea. I let my knees drift apart. As my legs moved out, I could feel the very short skirt move up my thighs. I couldn't see their eyes but I could hear their breathing. I was certain that some of my bush must be visible to them. I almost had an orgasm! Fortunately, my stop arrived. I smiled as I got up to see them almost collapse onto the floor as they leered at me. I turned for the door. I could feel that the skimpy skirt had moved up my waist. I could tell my butt was fully exposed. I gave it a bit of a wiggle as I got off the train. My only disappointment is that I couldn't see their faces. I pulled the skirt back down as I got off the train.
My mood changed when I got to the office. Vicariously turning on men, and possibly even a few women, on a train that I didn't know and would never see again was one thing. Walking into an office full of colleagues looking like a tart was quite another. I had to pluck up all my courage to enter the building and walk into the office.
To say there were some intakes of breath and muttered comments is an understatement. I felt like I had walked into a football stadium with all eyes on me. Some of the comments were very complimentary, though with an edge: I didn't know that old bag could look so good; now she looks the bitch that she acts, etc..
I did my best to concentrate on the work of the day. Tracey was acting normally, though I suspect she was enjoying my discomfort. We are a satellite office of a much larger organisation with 20 or so mostly male employees. Tracey and I went in for our 1100 meeting with the head of our office. Her eyes bored into me as I tried to pull my skirt down as low as it would go. We had very different management styles and I am sure Delores never really liked me.
We conducted our business as usual. I got up and headed to her officer door when she stopped me cold in my tracks.
"Helen, are you wearing knickers under that slutty outfit of yours?"
I had no idea what to say or do. She had frequently spoken to me in a harsh voice when we clashed. But it had never been personal. And what was I supposed to say, that I'm not wearing knickers and have become a real slut? I saw a wicked smile appear on Tracey's face. I decided to lie as I couldn't imagine Delores ever finding out.
"Of course I am," I snapped back, trying to assert some authority.
"Then why is there some pubic hair on the chair you just sat in?"
I looked at the chair and just about fainted. There were a few hairs showing up boldly against the white fabric.
"Take off that dress and prove that you have knickers on," Delores demanded.
Blood started draining from my face. I looked at her as sternly as I could. "Look, sorry about the hair. I'll sort that out. But I am not taking this dress off. That's not a reasonable thing to ask of an employee."
With that, I felt my dressed being pulled on the side and then a snip. Tracey had used a pair of scissors to cut the elastic holding the dress on me and pulled it way. I was left standing there in the stilettos and the red blouse. I'm sure my face turned the same colour.
"This is out of..." I started to shout in my fury.
But Delores cut me off. "You lying bitch. Coming to work dressed as a common whore is your prerogative. I don't care what you get up to in your private life. But I'll not have you lying when I ask you a question." She opened her drawer and threw something onto the desk. "If you want to keep your job, you're going to take this shaving kit, walk out that door and shave off all that disgusting hair you're showering around the office. You can then go knicker-less like some low-life slut all you want around the office and you want leave mess."
"You've got to be kidding," I yelled. "I'm not walking out into that office with my, my, my (suddenly the words blurted out that I thought I'd never use) hairy cunt on display to all and sundry. They're my subordinates. I have my dignity and position to protect!"
"Delores, ma'am," Tracey said obsequiously, "I think I can help you assert your authority."
"Do it," smiled Delores.
With that, Tracey pulled up my blouse and grabbed the chain that was still connected to my nipples. She pulled on the chain sending pain shooting through my body.
"Now, you little disobedient slut, you're going to do everything Delores tells you to do, aren't you," Tracey demanded in a stern voice.
"Yes, yes," I pleaded. "I'll, I'll do as she says and (pause as I realised what I was going to have to do) walk out there and shave my pussy."
"Are you happy with that, Delores?"
