The Whipped Heiress Ch 03

Author's Note

: All characters in this story are eighteen years of age or older.

- -

Life as a slave was more of an ordeal that I'd anticipated. It was very demanding, and more than once I felt as if this must be what Olympic hopefuls felt like as they underwent their grueling training.

Well, if they were forced to train in the nude, maybe it would be like what I was put through.

Anastasia took me back to the park to be ogled and objectified some more. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if I was just there to be stared at, but Mrs. Bowden and Ms. Nomikou had a talk and they decided to make certain my level of suffering be increased for my second trip to the park.

"If we get too complacent, you'll get bored," Mrs. Bowden explained. "It'll be more fun if we keep adding new levels of difficulty and shocking you with new outrages and new humiliations. It'll help to keep you on your toes and make your life as a slave more interesting."

I was paraded around naked in public every day and sexually abused by the servants. Such a life was humiliating and sometimes traumatizing, but I could never imagine it becoming boring. Still, my opinion didn't count for anything, so it was decided that new cruelties and degradations would be dreamed up and more of my dignity and pride would be stripped away from me each day.

Mrs. Bowden came along for the ride this time and she rubbed her hand up and down my inner thigh as Anastasia drove us to the park. The drugs they gave me already had my libido stirred up. Having Mrs. Bowden's hand caress my naked flesh just added heat to the fire. I could feel my nipples hardening and my sex beginning to throb before we even arrived at our destination.

"Okay, slave-girl, out of the car you get," Mrs. Bowden said to me after the car was parked. My mistress was dressed in a Navy-Blue business suit with a cute two-button jacket. The way she was dressed and the way she held herself she had an air of authority about her. I was naked except for my slave collar, and I had an air of surrender about me.

With my naked body on display, it took scant minutes before I began to attract a crowd. And as the crowds began to form, Anastasia opened the trunk of the car and began to retrieve several lengths of rope.

"Here's where you get tied up," Anastasia said. "Place your arms behind your back with your wrists touching your elbows."

I could sort of anticipate what was coming next, so it was no surprise when Anastasia took the nylon rope and bound my right wrist to my left elbow and my left wrist to my right elbow. In my opinion, those ties made me adequately helpless, however, Anastasia didn't stop there. Next, she took more rope and used it to bind my arms closer together. No matter how much I struggled I knew that escape would be quite impossible.

"What next?" I asked as I noticed Anastasia readying more rope to tie about my naked body. "I'm already helpless. There's no need for anymore rope."

"It's not always about need," Anastasia explained. "Sometimes, it's about creating a memorable display for the crowds."

Something in the way Anastasia said that worried me, and I soon discovered that I was right to worry. The next thing I knew, Anastasia snaked one rope between my legs and pulled it tightly into the furrow between my buttocks. With Mrs. Bowden's assistance, she yanked it painfully between the sensitive, tender swollen folds of my pubic lips.

The two of them worked together, tying one length of rope tightly around my waist. And then the rope that was yanked up between my pubic lips was tied off to the rope that went around my waist. Then another rope was added with great difficulty to the crotch rope to use as a leash, so that Anastasia could lead me around the park by tugging on it.

"Aaaahhhh,"

I gasped as Anastasia tugged.

Merely walking with the nylon rope biting deep into my labia hurt bad enough, but every time Anastasia pulled on the rope, the rope buried itself even deeper inside of me and the biting sting of the rope hurt even worse. "Anastasia, I can't walk like this," I protested, "The rope is cutting my pussy in two!"

"What

did you call her?" Mrs. Bowden asked admonishingly. "You are to address all free women as

Mistress.

Who told you that you could address Anastasia by her proper name?"

Anastasia and Mrs. Bowden decided that I needed to be gagged to keep me from speaking impertinently and in short order a bit gag was forced into my mouth and buckled tight to the back of my head. The gag forced my jaws to open wide and I soon found myself drooling around the cruel gag that was wedged into my mouth.

I found that being bound and gagged made me feel more like a slave-girl. I was naked, my buttocks and pubic lips were shamelessly exposed, that cruel rope painfully bisected my poor vulva, the gag in my mouth prevented me from speaking and held my mouth wide open, causing me to drool and robbing me of control over my own body.

My saliva freely dripped out of my widely open mouth. My efforts to swallow it back soon proved to be ineffective. I explored the possibilities of speech. But the sounds that emerged from my gaping mouth were too demeaning. I quickly gave up on any attempts at verbal communication.

I was forced to walk around the park like that, being led by my sore, tortured pussy with Anastasia pulling on that loathsome rope. I was forced to walk past dozens of fully clothed tourists, and Sklavian locals, some of whom filmed me or snapped photos of my painful predicament.

I had never dreamed that I would one day be forced to walk with a piece of rope being pulled up tightly between my poor, sensitive pubic lips. It was painful, difficult and humiliating. I was endlessly grateful when Anastasia unbuckled my bit gag and untied me. She untied my wrists first and saved the crotch rope for last.

"Oh God," I exclaimed as the crotch rope was pulled out. My pussy lips were raw from having that rope biting deep into my tender flesh. I wondered if I would ever walk normal again.

While I was still sobbing from the pain of how Anastasia had abused my poor, tender pussy, she began preparations for my second punishment. As I was rubbing the parts of my body that had suffered from rope burn, Anastasia produced a dog leash with a black leather handle and attached it to my slave collar.

"On your hands and knees, pretty girl," Anastasia said. "You're going to crawl and I'm going to lead you around the park. When I tug on your leash, you crawl forward. When I say 'heel', you stop crawling immediately."

It was demeaning to be led around on a leash and forced to crawl while crowds of curious onlookers pointed and stared. My reddened ass and swollen pubic lips were humiliatingly displayed for anyone who cared to look. I got dirt and grass stains on my knees as I crawled and every now and then Anastasia would order me to heel so one of the tourists in the park could pet me.

The petting would start off innocently enough, with someone affectionately stroking my hair or my upper back, however, petting invariably became sexual, with the delighted tourists cupping my vulnerable breasts, stroking my sensitive pubic lips or even brushing their fingertips across my delicate, pink anus. My entire body became hypersensitive and every stranger's hand that touched me stoked the fires of my libido. Anastasia kept me out there in the park for hours and had me crawl for the entertainment of prurient tourists for what seemed like days.

She allowed two of the tourists to rub sunblock all over my naked body to help protect me from sunburn. At first, this seemed like a kindness, but as the tourists rubbed the oily lotion into my skin, my sex throbbed, and my clit became painfully hard. My nipples ached as they became even more swollen and erect, and moisture leaked from my pussy in copious amounts.

My mother is a millionaire. I've lived a life of privilege, but I can barely remember what that was like now. Now I'm a naked slave and I'm sexually objectified, abused and tormented by total strangers. Everyone around me has a superior social status. I'm shamefully naked with my bald pubes constantly exposed, while everyone around me is well-dressed and dignified.

Anastasia yanked on my leash and had me crawl towards a redheaded woman dressed in Black dress slacks, a black blazer and black leather pumps.

My knees ached as I crawled on my hands and knees with my ass suggestively raised up for all the tourists to see and enjoy. It seemed as if a thousand eyes were openly examining my naked body and I blushed furiously at the thought of how improper and indecent I must look. From the rear my anus and swollen public lips were indecently on display and from the front my naked breasts were hanging from my torso in clear view of anyone who cared to look.

I trembled slightly as I stopped at the dapper woman's feet and allowed her to examine me. She seemed amiable and without malice of any sort, but I had the good sense to be suspicious of her. In Sklavia, just because a person speaks to a slave in an amiable manner and smiles kindly, doesn't mean that slaves are safe around them.

"She's adorable," the congenial redhead enthused as she placed her hand on my head and gently stroked my hair, "what's her name?"

The woman spoke English with an American accent. I'm no expert on accents, but she sounded like she was from the Pacific northwest. She was probably visiting Sklavia while on vacation, hoping to see naked slaves like myself.

Anastasia explained that my name was Heather and that I very friendly and well behaved. She invited the dapper redhead to touch me all over and feel the softness of my skin and the firmness of my muscles.

"See those beautiful buttocks?" Anastasia asked. "Give them a squeeze. Her glutes are impressively firm."

The American tourist grabbed my sore bottom and squeezed both my left and right buttocks, feeling the muscles beneath the skin. Anastasia gushed about my body, explaining how I was slender, but I had excellent muscle tone. The redhead then proceeded to feel me up everywhere, testing the firmness of my thighs, calves, adductors, obliques, biceps, triceps and forceps.

I was being assessed like horseflesh and I found it to be dehumanizing, but as a slave, I couldn't complain. I remained on my hands and knees and allowed the woman to examine me as if I were being examined at the slave market by a potential buyer.

Then, she switched tactics. Instead of judging my muscle tone, she placed a hand between my legs, and I felt her fingertips stroking my pink slit from the bottom to the top and then back again. My sex throbbed and I trembled from the intimate contact and then I gasped as she plunged two fingers into my vagina and probed my moist interior. I felt myself instinctively clenching down on her fingers and I silently hoped that she would continue to pump her fingers inside of me until I achieved climax.

Sadly, she withdrew her fingers from my needy sex and exclaimed, "Good Heavens! Her vagina is soaking wet!"

"Yes, she's easier to control that way," Anastasia explained. "We give her drugs that keep her in a state of constant sexual readiness and then we ration her orgasms. We only allow her orgasms as a reward if she's well behaved and obedient."

"That's clever," the American tourist commented. "Using that approach, I imagine you have a very well-behaved slave."

"Oh yes. We control her supply of orgasms, so she'll do whatever we want. She's totally dependent on us for the sexual release she so desperately craves."

Anastasia discussed the most intimate details of my sex life with a total stranger, and all I could do was listen and squirm with embarrassment. It was demeaning, but if I were to complain or interrupt, I would be severely punished.

_ _

By the time I was returned to the estate, I was sweaty and had grass stains and dirt on my naked body. Mrs. Bowden told the maids to clean me up, but not to use the bathroom facilities inside the house.

She decided that I was being given too much dignity and privacy by being bathed in a bathtub inside the house, with the door closed. After putting some thought into it, she decided that the maids should use the outdoor shower to clean me up, and the gardeners, kitchen staff, delivery people or anyone else on the property were welcome to watch as the maids soaped me up and rinsed me off.

Before I was led to the outdoor shower, my wrists were helplessly tied behind my back. I felt that it was unnecessary to tie me up just for a shower, however the maids informed me that I looked "fetching" when I was tied up and helpless therefore the ropes were necessary.

The maids soaped me all over, however they spent and inordinate amount of time lathering up my boobs and my pubic lips. And the maid named Katerina decided that it was important to thoroughly clean my anus. I squirmed as the maids focused their attention on these delicate portions of my anatomy.

I moaned when they focused their attention on my delicate, pink pubes. My sex throbbed urgently as they rubbed me vigorously between my legs, however they refused to give me any orgasmic relief. I spread my legs pornographically wide and begged the maids to show me some mercy. My whole identity became my intense sexual need and I shamelessly whimpered and begged the maids for some relief. The maids loved listening to me beg, however, they wouldn't give me an orgasm as they enjoyed seeing me in a desperate, lust-crazed state. They washed every single inch of my swollen labia and even worked some soapy lather inside my pussy, but they cruelly took their fingers away from my sex if they felt I was getting too close to achieving an orgasm.

_ _

Later that week, Corrina Nomikou threw a party and invited dozens of her friends and business associates. She wanted to show me off and I think she also wanted to embarrass me by bringing in an army of people to examine my naked body and unapologetically grope me.

Most of her friends were women, although some of her friends were male. Every single one of them were given opportunities to cup my breasts, play with my nipples, squeeze my buttocks, finger my sopping wet pussy or smack me on the ass.

The kitchen staff prepared trays of drinks and finger food and sent me out into the main hall to serve Ms. Nomikou's guests. It was humbling to mingle naked among such dapper, well-tailored guests and serve them while I was barefoot, naked and bound. To make matters worse they seemed far more interested in me than the items I carried on my tray. I was ogled and objectified by both men and women.

Her guests were wealthy businesswomen, wealthy heiresses, fashion moguls, fashion models and famous Sklavian performance artists. It was a who's who of the wealthy and famous in Sklavia. I'd been invited to parties like this back in America. However, I'd never been made to serve drinks or parade around naked at those parties.

At one time I was the social equal if not the superior to every person on Ms. Nomikou's estate. Now, I was beneath all of them, even the kitchen staff were above me. I had dropped down so many more levels than I had ever thought possible.

In the past few days, my pride and my dignity had all been stripped away and now I was nothing more than a naked sex object, accepting of my new role, to be ogled, abused, punished and violated. The aloof heiress was gone now, replaced by a humbled, obedient sex slave.

Serving drinks to well-tailored, coifed, urbane women while you yourself are naked and handcuffed is an extremely humbling experience. The more elegant the women surrounding me looked, the more naked and vulnerable I felt. I felt shamed, exposed and humiliated, however, I was also overwhelming with potent sensations of arousal. My nipples were embarrassingly erect and would not stop pointing, and my sex was so wet that moisture was leaking from it and coating my pubic lips and inner thighs.

The women I was serving seemed polished and refined at first glance, and even at second glance, but that didn't stop some of them from grabbing my ass from behind and copping a feel while I was focused on the guest in front of me. It was done with a sort of quiet dignity and if my ass wasn't so tender from the many spankings I'd received that day, I might even have welcomed the attention.

The kitchen staff were far less reserved in the way they treated me.

The kitchen staff were coarse and abusive. They would yell at me in Sklavian and give me orders that I couldn't understand. There was one of them who would grab me, bend me over a stainless-steel table and mercilessly spank my ass while the other members of the kitchen staff would laugh and cheer. Then there was the woman who would kick my legs apart and force her fingers deep inside of me. The drugs they give me keep me in a constant state of sexual arousal, however this woman would probe my vagina until I was moaning, panting and feverish with lust. And when I was trembling with desire and on the verge of an insanely powerful orgasm, she would pull her fingers out, grab me by my scalp and force me to stand up.

Typically, that's when I would be given a new tray of drinks and be sent out of the kitchen to mingle with the guests.

The party went on for hours and the kitchen staff had many opportunities to abuse me. By the time the evening was over, my backside was throbbing with scalding pain, my clit was agonizingly hard and swollen and my pubic lips were soaking wet. Of course, many of the wealthy guests made fanciful comments about the conspicuous moistness of my pussy and the painful, red handprints all over my ass.

Just when I thought I couldn't possibly feel any more defeated, disgraced and objectified, that bratty teenage girl, Irini wandered up to me and snatched a drink from my tray.

"Should you be drinking that, Mistress?" I asked. "You're only eighteen and that has alcohol in it."

I didn't want to get into trouble for serving alcohol to a teenager, but Irini haughtily informed me that the legal drinking age in Sklavia was fourteen.

"Slaves shouldn't be questioning the actions of free women anyway," Irini said. "I'm still hoping to see you whipped someday. I'm watching you, and at the first sign of disrespect or disobedience, I'm going to demand that you be punished."

Irini was a true sadist, even her mother said so. She wanted to see me suffer, and I had approximately two more months left in my slavery contract. Irini was going to have plenty of opportunities to see me punished. I'd avoided whippings since Irini and I first met, but my luck couldn't hold out forever.

"Doukissa says that if slaves aren't whipped regularly, they become impertinent. She says that whipping slaves should be considered preventative maintenance to keep them properly humble."

"I've only been a slave for a few days, Mistress," I replied, "and I was whipped shortly after I arrived. The whip marks faded after a couple of days, but I remember how intensely painful they were."

I tried to walk away from Irini and serve drinks to some of the other guests, but the wicked teenager darted out in front of me and blocked my path after I traveled just a few steps.

"If you were to talk to Mrs. Bowden, and request a whipping," the teenager said, "I'm sure she'd take you out and have you publicly whipped."

I was forced to stop abruptly when Irini stepped out in front of me, nearly spilling the drinks. It was intensely frustrating dealing with the little sadist, and I was already feeling overtaxed after just a few seconds with her.

"Mistress, slaves never request a whipping," I said as respectfully as I could. "The pain is just too traumatic. If you'd ever been whipped yourself, you'd understand."