The Whipped Heiress

As a slave, my bottom is perpetually sore from all the spankings I'm forced to endure. As a result, I've taken to sleeping on my belly. It's just too uncomfortable to sleep with my abused buttocks pressing into the mattress.

So, I woke up naked one Friday morning in Mrs. Bowden's bed. It had been almost a week since Adelfi Day and the marks I'd received from my brutal whipping had all faded. I had been in a deep sleep, but Mrs. Bowden placed her hand on my shoulder and woke me up. I opened my eyes experimentally and then closed them again. I was awake but just barely.

"Wake up, Slave Girl," my mistress said to me. "You're going to want to hear about this."

I opened my eyes once again and softly replied, "I'm awake, Mistress."

A wicked smile spread across Mrs. Bowden's face, and she said, "Remember Irini? She's signed a slave contract. Now she's a slave, just like you."

Irini was an eighteen-year-old brat who tormented me ever chance she got. She was a sadist and I cringed inwardly every time she got within twenty feet of me. Just hearing my mistress mention her name caused me to cringe. But my heart soured at the news that Irini was now a slave. This was the most amazing news I could possibly receive.

"But mistress, how did this happen?" I asked.

"Apparently her mother got fed up with her childish antics," my mistress replied. "She could either sign a slave contract or be cut off from the family wealth and privilege. Irini is a spoiled brat who has never worked a day in her life. Take away her credit cards, her bank accounts, her car, her cell phone, and whatnot, she can't function. She didn't even try to haggle. Her mother got her to sign up for one-hundred days of slavery."

My eyes went wide, and I suddenly felt fully awake. "One-hundred days? That's an awfully long time! Suddenly, I feel sorry for her!"

"Don't," my mistress said firmly. "The way the contract is written up, she's the property of Luiza Grigorova. Luiza is a legend in slave owner circles. By the time Irini is done being trained, the little brat will end up enjoying everything that Luiza does to her."

Then my mistress changed the subject and said, "Go downstairs and find the scullery maid. Ask her to spank your ass until it's good and red. Then come back upstairs and show me her handiwork. If I like the color of the handprints on your backside, I'll allow you to have an orgasm."

Mrs. Bowden knew that I felt uncomfortable being punished by mere servants. Back in my pre-slave days I lived in a household where I gave the servants orders. For a wealthy heiress like me to be punished by a lowly servant was demeaning in ways I couldn't put into words, however I hadn't had an orgasm in almost a week, and I was in desperate need of some sexual relief.

Barefoot, I padded downstairs in search of the scullery maid. I was naked, save for the slave collar locked around my throat, and when the scullery maid saw me, she stared at my naked body with an openly prurient look, fixating on my boobs, my thighs and my bald pubic lips.

Unlike Mrs. Bowden, the scullery maid was not an attractive woman. Mrs. Bowden was a lithe woman with a slender waist, an oval-shaped face, beautiful eyes, high cheekbones, kissable lips, and an elegant neck. The scullery maid had mannish features, with broad shoulders, a thick neck, muscular arms, a square-shaped face and her mouth was a thin line that rarely ever smiled.

Being spanked by such an unappealing oaf would lack the eroticism of being spanked by Mrs. Bowden. I had a knot in my stomach just thinking about going over her lap.

And then, as I ambled closer to the kitchen menial, I noticed that Grace Fuller and Mrs. Nomikou were sitting in the dining room, just a few feet away from the maid. It would increase my feelings of humiliation dramatically if they were to watch while I was spanked.

My head was reeling, and I felt feverish as I approached the scullery maid. She looked me up and down, licked her thin lips and said something in Sklavian that I'm certain was lewd and sexually objectifying. I didn't understand the words, but I felt my face blush hot just from the tone of her voice and the salaciousness of her gaze.

I trembled slightly as I stood naked in front of her and tremulously said, "Mistress, I humbly ask that you put me over your knee and give me a harsh spanking, so that I may begin my day with my buttocks appropriately reddened."

I had to sacrifice a great deal of my pride and self-respect to say that, especially with Ms. Fuller and Mrs. Nomikou sitting just a few feet away, but I said it. It was one of the most difficult things I'd ever done in my life, and I let out a heavy sigh that I had managed to get the humiliating words out of my mouth.

A wicked smile spread across her face and then the kitchen menial replied, "Of course, I agree that all slaves should begin their mornings with a red ass, however, you should first ask me properly. Kneel before me with your knees far apart and ask me again."

I had to bite back an angry retort. The woman was deliberately drawing out my punishment and making my humiliation last longer. I wanted to get this over with quickly, so of course, she wanted to take her time and make my humiliation last much longer.

Per her instructions, I knelt with my hands at the back of my neck, my legs open wide, my chest, belly and swollen pubic lips as completely displayed as possible and I asked her once again to give me an over the knee spanking.

"I will do it since you asked so nicely," the scullery maid said, and then she pulled out a dining room chair and sat on it. I crawled across her lap and ended up situated with my bare buttocks directly positioned so Ms. Fuller would have an ideal view.

Then the scullery maid lifted my hips up and parted my thighs, making certain that my bald pubes would be on display as well.

"I must say, I'm jealous, "Grace Fuller remarked. "How about tomorrow you ask

me

to give you an early morning spanking?"

"I would like to do that, Mistress," I said with my ass raised pornographically high and my face awkwardly dangling close to the ground. "As long as Mrs. Bowden approves, I shall request a spanking from you first thing tomorrow morning."

My feelings of humiliation spiked when I realized that Grace Fuller and Ms. Nomikou were sitting close enough, they could almost certainly see that my plump pubic lips were glistening with the juices of my sexual arousal.

I was still sore from the spankings I'd received the previous day, and the very first crack across my ass stung so bitterly, I was unable to hold back my screams.

I had been raised to be a dignified, polished, self-assured young lady, however, as my innocent buttocks were cruelly assaulted, my dignity and self-assuredness were snatched away. I squirmed shamelessly and my eyes welled up with tears as my beautiful buttocks were assaulted by a lowly kitchen menial. I writhed uncontrollably and let out agonized yelps of pain. And just as I felt things couldn't get any worse for me, the scullery maid began to spank the backs of my thighs.

My innocent bottom and my thighs were on fire, but the scullery maid continued to spank me. Her hand cruelly swatted my tender buttocks. And then she found an even more tempting target, the sensitive lower curves where my bottom met my thighs. I twisted and jerked across her lap as the pain mounted. I felt unbearably helpless and without dignity and yet my pussy was still soaking wet and throbbing with desire.

Finally, I was lifted off the scullery maid's lap and made to kneel before her. I was still frantically sobbing when I heard the maid say, "Kiss my feet, slave."

My bottom was a riot of scalding, agonizing pain and my head was reeling. I kissed the detestable

woman's feet, barely aware of what I was doing.

_ _

When Mrs. Bowden examined my stinging backside, she allowed that my buttocks were truly red and that I'd earned the orgasm that she'd promised me.

"Splendid," my mistress gushed as she examined my wounded buttocks. "She did an exquisite job reddening your shapely bottom. I suspect you're in a significant amount of pain right now."

"Yes, mistress," I admitted.

"Excellent," she said as she brushed her fingertips up and down my stinging hindquarters. "It's important for slaves to suffer. It helps to keep them in the proper slave mindset. Now, turn around and face me."

I did as she ordered, and then she tapped the insides of my thighs with her index finger and told me to spread my legs apart and clasp my hands together behind my back.

"Good girl," sha said as I stood naked before her, my pussy indecently exposed to her gaze. "Now, spread your legs even wider. As wide as you can without losing your balance. Stretch those inner thigh muscles, pretty girl. And push your chest out. Display those beautiful breasts prominently."

I did as she ordered, putting my boobs and my plump, glistening pubic lips pornographically on display. It was humbling and shameful the way I was exposing myself to her and then she worked two of her fingers into the gap between my swollen pubic lips and slid two fingers deep inside of me.

"So, slave girl," my mistress said as she explored my moist interior with her talented fingers, "when we return to the United States, will you still be my delightful, naked plaything? Or will you return to being an unapproachable, stuck up, rich bitch?"

One of her fingers located my g-spot and I was unable to suppress a moan as my whole body throbbed with libidinous energy. My chest heaved as I panted and I finally managed to find my voice long enough to respond, "I'll still be your naked plaything, mistress."

My thighs trembled, and my clitoris became achingly hard and swollen. My feverish sexual heat caused me to break out in a sweat and I thrust my pelvis shamelessly onto her fingers. I moaned as she opened her fingers inside me and curled them up against my sensitive walls. Her other hand cupped my sore, reddened buttocks

I rode her fingers, whimpering as I felt my orgasm building, crying out as she squeezed my wounded ass. Then, I whimpered as she pushed a third finger into my pussy. Then her thrusts became more vigorous, in and out, faster, and faster.

"Ohhh! Huh. Uhh. Huhhh. Uh. Aaahhh!"

I could only pant, whimper and make incoherent vowel sounds. My legs shook and trembled uncontrollably, and I almost fell as the strength of my impending orgasm built inside of me. Pain and pleasure intensified as she kneaded my poor abused buttocks with one hand and fucked me with the other.

I tossed my head back as my orgasm hit hard, I thrust my pelvis against her fingers urgently and my juices flooded out of me as I squirmed in the throes of my orgasm. I dropped to the floor, exhausted, panting boisterously. My mistress gently pulled her fingers from my pussy and allowed me to lie there, moaning quietly and occasionally twitching as I savored the afterglow of my powerful climax.

_ _

The next morning, I woke up early. It took me a few seconds to remember that I wasn't in America.

I was naked and my wrists were cuffed together behind my back. The cold stainless steel that held my wrists in their inescapable grip reminded me that I was in Sklavia. I was a slave, and I was legally the property of Karen Bowden.

Mrs. Bowden slept beside me and knowing that I was her property sent a dark shiver of sexual excitement through my lower extremities. Getting up out of bed was awkward without the use of my hands but I managed. Barefoot, I padded over to the full-length mirror and got a good look at myself.

With my arms bound behind my back, I was thrusting my boobs forward shamelessly. My nipples were remarkably hard and erect and seemed to be begging for attention. My pubic lips were swollen and glistening with wetness. Some of my wetness had leaked onto my inner thighs. My face was flush with arousal and my long hair was in a state of disarray that my American friends would refer to as the "just fucked" look.

I looked like a stereotypical slut except for the slave collar. The slave collar signaled to anyone who cared to look that I had no sexual autonomy, and it was my owner who controlled my sex life. I had to be constantly ready for sex, but I didn't have the authority to choose my own sexual partners. My mistress would tell me when to have sex and with whom.

I got lost in my thoughts, carried away by the intense emotions of being constantly naked, objectified and controlled. Then, I heard a familiar voice behind me saying, "Admiring the view?"

I was stunned out of my reverie. I turned around to see my mistress propped up on one elbow with an amused smirk on her face.

"Mistress," I blurted out. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"Don't apologize, dear girl," Mrs. Bowden said cheerfully. "You look quite adorable, standing in front of the mirror like that. I can admire your front and your backside simultaneously. It's quite the visual treat."

I felt myself blushing and then my mistress exclaimed that when my face colored with embarrassment, it enhanced my beauty even more.

Mrs. Bowden then ordered me to pose for her. She had me work my body into various positions, all of them very lewd, most of them with my legs spread pornographically wide. Others involved me arching my back in such a way that my breasts were prominently displayed.

"Beautiful," Mrs. Bowden declared after I'd exhibited my body in every kinky position she could think of. "Now, get into the bathroom. I want to soap you up in thew shower."

Obediently, I padded into the bathroom. Mrs. Bowden turned on the hot water and got into the shower with me. My wrists were still imprisoned in handcuffs behind my back, so I couldn't wash myself. My mistress ended up standing in the shower behind me and washing my naked body once we were both soaking wet.

She grabbed a bottle of bodywash and lathered and rubbed and teased my every inch of my naked body. Her hands roamed all over my back, she washed my neck, then my chest. She lingered forever on my naked breasts, running her slippery hands over my nipples until they felt inflamed, swollen and embarrassingly erect.

"I love how firm your body is," she said as she continued to cup my breasts and rub her thumbs across my excited nipples, "You're so lithe and athletic, it's almost like you're an athlete."

Mrs. Bowden's hands explored my body with unrestrained enthusiasm. I gasped and trembled as her hands played with my body and stimulated my nerve endings. At some point, her slick hands moved down my obliques and glutes and moved towards my loins.

Of course, my labia were shockingly swollen at this point. According to Mrs. Bowden's rules I was forbidden to masturbate, and I was kept naked all of the time. Add to that, the way Mrs. Bowden had played with my nipples, and my poor pussy was soaking wet and throbbing with hungry spasms. The touch of my mistress's fingertips made me moan and tremble. It took just a minimum of effort on her part to bring my tormented body to the edge of a high-pitched, screaming orgasm.

I was desperately craving sexual release; however, she took her hands away from my inflamed pubic lips before I could achieve orgasmic relief. She then proceeded to move her soapy hands down my thighs, leaving me groaning with intense sexual need.

When my mistress was convinced that I was clean, we got out of the shower, and she proceeded to dry me off with a towel. When we were both clean and dry, Mrs. Bowden got dressed, but I remained naked. Slaves in Sklavia aren't allowed to wear clothes, and Mrs. Bowden wasn't going to allow me to break Sklavian law.

Then, she mentioned me that Grace Fuller had asked my mistress for permission to spank me this morning. Of course, my mistress graciously granted her request.

"So, I may as well send you to Grace," she said as she fetched a key and unlocked my handcuffs. "Run along, darling, and make sure to move your hips when Grace spanks you. It's much more entertaining when a slave girl squirms and bounces as she's spanked."

I ran along.

The door to Grace's room was open and she was sitting on her bed tying her boots. I timidly knocked on her doorframe to get her attention and when she looked up, I timidly said, "Good morning, mistress. Would you prefer to spank me now, or should I come back later?"

I was a member of the upper classes, an heir to a multi-million-dollar fortune. Grace was a member of the working classes, she worked for a paycheck. She was my social inferior, and it was unnatural for me to be subservient or submissive to her, but I found myself desperately craving her approval and willing to do anything to please her. How messed up was that? She beckoned me forward and my heart went pitter-pat in my chest. I felt a surge of joy when she smiled at me.

I was naked except for the slave collar around my neck and Grace wore a black turtleneck, black pants, and stylish black leather boots. The stark contrast between her attire and mine was not lost on me.

I happily padded over to where she was sitting and stood there, waiting for permission to go over her lap. Grace was in no hurry to get started and she placed a hand on my hip, leisurely running her fingertips up and down my exposed skin while she admired my taut abs and my bald pubes.

That hand leisurely traveled down to my hip and explored the curves of my buttocks before traveling down lower, feeling the smooth flesh of my thighs and the firmness of my leg muscles.

"You're a very good slave, Heather," Ms. Fuller assured me as she fondled my naked flesh. "You're so obedient and so adorable. I'm so happy that your mistress is willing to share you with me."

Grace Fuller ordered me to spread my legs further apart and by the time she was satisfied with my stance, I felt vulnerable and very exposed, with my thighs obscenely far apart and my swollen pubic lips lewdly on display.

She made my plight even more mortifying by feeling up my inflamed pubic lips from front to back before using her fingers to ease my labia open. My pubic lips were swollen and sensitive and I gasped when she touched me there.

"You are so beautiful," Ms. Fuller assured me as she eased her fingers a little more inside me and pulled my sex open as wide as she could, "Try not to squirm."

I whimpered as she pulled my tender labia apart and spread my sex wide open. She took an inordinate amount of interest in my sex, diligently examining my pink slit and then thrusting two fingers inside my vagina and exploring my moist interior, probing as deep as she could go.

My sex was already wet before Grace slid her fingers inside of me and I whimpered and panted as I felt her fingers explore. My vagina muscles spasmed and I felt an erotic throbbing in my loins as my sex was invaded by those strong, inquisitive fingers.

"Oh, Heather, you're dripping wet," she said as she continued to probe the most intimate part of my female anatomy.

"Sorry, Ms. Fuller."

"Don't be silly, Heather," Grace admonished me, "Slaves are supposed to be blatantly sexual creatures. I think that it's adorable that you're soaking wet. I'm so lucky to have such a fully sexualized creature at my beck and call."

Then she gripped me by the hips, turned me around and slapped me sharply on the ass. I flinched slightly from the blow and then she said, "Your glutes are so firm and high, they're a joy to touch. I just wanna play with them all day."

Then, she pulled my buttocks apart and brushed a fingertip across the sensitive flesh of my anus, "And your anus is so pink and soft, like a cherry blossom."

I gasped when she brushed her fingertips across the delicate flesh of my pink cherry blossom. Grace proclaimed that the sound of me gasping was sexy, and she was determined to elicit as many gasps from my young lips as she could manage.