Sara and Ms Davies

It was 7.20pm , and Sara was running up the stairs towards Ms Davies' apartment as quickly as she could. She had had a terrible day at work, but knew that tardiness was unacceptable, no matter what the excuse. She smiled as she passed the familiar doors – this was the first time Ms Davies had invited Sara to her house first. Then again, this was only their third meeting at all – and already she was putty in Ms Davies' hands. Sara stood in front of the door, and was about to knock before she remembered her Mistress' words. Be naked – she had willingly agreed the night before, when she was nothing but a whore to the manager of a restaurant – she felt she had no choice, as a dirty little slut – she had to be naked. But, in the cold light of day (or late evening), she realised how embarrassing it would be to be fully naked in the middle of the hallway. She was already blushing, having been recognised by some of the men across the street as the slut at Dino's, where she was paraded about, in just a bra and panties. She sighed, knowing that embarrassment was nothing compared to what Ms Davies could do to her. She unbuttoned her blouse and took off her skirt reluctantly. Did she really need to be fully naked? She pondered again, remembering last night – remembering how she had been abused for wearing a bra and panties. She ripped them off in a flash – she wanted to avoid as much unnecessary punishment as possible. When Ms Davies was angry, it was best to be a good few rooms away. Preferably in another building. She went to knock the door, fully naked, before remembering her place – the floor. She shot to her knees, kneeling before the door – like a good little slut. She smiled to herself – last night, at the start, she had been unsure. She didn't know whether she wanted to be a whore or not – whether she was so inferior that she wanted Ms Davies to walk all over her as her bitch. Tonight was different. She knew her position. She was a tramp – she was below her Mistress all the way, as a dirty little fucktoy to be used by Ms Davies and anyone else she wanted. She proudly knocked on the door, and awaited her Mistress, eyes lowered like a good whore.

Sadly, instead of Ms Davies, a tall, beautiful black woman appeared at the door, and looked down at Sara with bemusement. “Can I help you at all?” Sara instantly jumped. Fuck! Wrong flat! She grabbed her clothes and started to put them on hurriedly.

“Oh, Jesus. I'm so sorry – I must have the wrong house – do you know where…erm…Ms Davies lives?”

“She lives here.” Sara was taken aback.

“Then…urm…who are you?”

“I'm Ms Scott, Ms Davies' friend. You must be Sara – she's told me all about you, my dear.” She looked at Sara and frowned. “Shouldn't you be naked and kneeling, Sara?” Sara looked at Ms Scott, stunned – she hesitated as she tried to get over the initial embarrassment of being naked in front of a complete stranger. Her hesitation was punished instantly, as a hard blow to the face brought Sara back to reality. Ms Scott's expression had changed from mildly annoyed to an ice cold stare. She didn't tolerate delays. “When I say something, you should do your very best to adhere to it. Ms Davies obviously hasn't taught you well enough.” Sara shot down to her knees and started to undress again – if Ms Scott told Ms Davies about her behaviour, she would most certainly feel her wrath once more. Within seconds, she was kneeling before Ms Scott's beautiful legs obediently, her eyes on the floor. Ms Scott smiled softly.

“You got there in the end, Sara. I must say how impressed I am at how you are so indifferent to being naked in public, my dear. That's the sign of a good slut – Ms Davies must have taught you something I suppose.” She opened the door and walked in, her perfect ass wiggling as she walked. Sara still didn't think of herself as a lesbian – she was just a slut really, to be used by man or woman – but she could appreciate Ms Scott as a very beautiful lady. She stayed on her knees, almost hypnotised by Ms Scott's body. Ms Scott turned and smiled at the small naked girl who knelt before her. She pointed to her feet and stared at Sara. “Come here, slut.” Sara instantly began to crawl into the flat, her eyes still lowered. Ms Scott seemed to be nicer than Ms Davies – she wouldn't get annoyed with you if you dared to look up at her, and she wouldn't get annoyed if you dared to not look at her. Often, with Ms Davies, Sara felt she couldn't win – that constantly she was expected to do things she couldn't do. Ms Scott wasn't like that. She looked down at Sara and picked up a crop from the floor, smiling as Sara assumed her position below her.

“Ms Davies will join us in a couple of moments – she is just out getting some…things for tonight. In the meantime, I reckon you should show me what a good little slut you are. Spread your legs for me, whore.” Sara quickly opened her legs, revealing her pussy which was slowly getting wet. She bit her lip as this total stranger walked behind her and started to examine Sara, every so often grabbing a piece of her flesh and murmuring to herself. She smiled as she knelt before Sara, and started to stroke her face softly.

“Good girl. You know your place – you are lucky in that sense. I've met so many submissives who haven't known it – in the end, I had to show them the way. Sometimes by force. I remember this one girl – about your height, British Indian – who had just moved to the States. She wasn't a lesbian, she wasn't into BDSM, she didn't know I was until one day, after work. We were sitting about, chatting, in a bar. We were getting drunker and drunker – I was getting more dominant, and she was slowly starting to get more submissive. I looked her in the eye and told her about my…practices, as it were. She started to get scared – looking for a way out. They're all scared the first time – I'm sure even you were, little whore. She got up to leave, afraid of what might happen. I grabbed her by the arm, pulled her close to me, and slapped her hard in the face – she burst into tears and screamed for me to let go of her. She should have known better – if anything that turns me on more.” Sara noticed Ms Scott biting her lip now, remembering this episode.

“Fortunately for me, the barman is a friend of mine, and it wasn't a very busy night. The barman's usually turned on by it anyway – he turns a blind eye to it. Sometimes he asks to use the people I capture – as payment for his silence. I usually heartily accept – but, tonight, he wasn't all that interested. I'm not sure why, Nadia was a very beautiful girl and she had a classical English accent – one which made the whole damsel-in-distress scenario more appealing. So she was wriggling about as I reached about for a cloth I had prepared earlier – she tried to spit in my face, impolite bitch. I couldn't have that – I grabbed the cloth and pressed against her mouth as she struggled – within seconds she was unconscious – dead to the world. I moved quickly, stuffing her into the boot of my car – the journey wasn't that long, so there was no chance of the chloroform wearing off before it was over. I took her up to my apartment, stripped her naked and tied her to the bed – gagging her with her own panties – a nice touch, if I do say so myself. Of course, when she woke at first, she was pretty dang angry – understandably. But people go through phases when they are met with a situation like this – after a bit, she knew who held the power – she could tell by the red marks on her breasts and her pussy. I whipped her, beat her, humiliated her, spanked her, slapped her, raped her – I made her my bitch, I made her understand that I was the goddess, and she was but a mortal – nothing. She begged, she screamed, she cried – all in vain, of course. And then, when I had had my fill, I untied her and threw her naked into the hallway. Now, I know what you're thinking, Sara. You're thinking that this woman could have run to the police, she could have ratted me out, and I could be serving time in jail for rape, instead of standing in front of you today. But she didn't. I knew she wouldn't – I can tell when women want to be dominated. There are some who want to be chained up, tied up – they just don't know it. You, for one – and, of course, Nadia. It was only a matter of time before she crawled to my door, knocked on it and asked, very submissively, if she could come in. In fact, it was just twenty minutes later. She was still naked, and was still crying. She knelt there, on my doorstep, and asked me if she could stay. I laughed, pulled her in by the hair, and tied her up again. The next day, she quit her job, and became my personal fucktoy. She hasn't left the apartment since.”

Sara knelt there, amazed at the story. How…how could that girl submit so willingly? She looked down at herself. Actually, she wasn't that amazed. If anything, it was amazing that she wasn't Ms Davies live-in slave by now. She was pretty much everything else. No! Shit! She couldn't afford to think like that! She had only just accepted the idea of being a casual slut – she wasn't quite ready to accept that she was capable of being a live-in slave. She was fine about submitting. Commitment was a different matter. She didn't want to leave her job, for one. And there were so many other matters to consider…she felt a sharp slap on her ass and stopped daydreaming. Apparently, Ms Scott had started talking again, and Sara had not heard a word of it. Ms Scott stood over her and snarled. “I hate having to repeat myself. Don't make me do that again.” She walked over to the counter and picked up a cigarette, lighting it.

“As I was saying, there are other situations. There are other times when my judgement is wrong, sadly. Five years ago, I had been tracking this guy called Eric for a month. He seemed very submissive – he couldn't bear to look me in the eye at work, he called me “Ma'am” when I hadn't asked him to – he was, in short, the perfect male slut that I had been looking for. So one night, after drinks, we were walking home. I suddenly pin him up against a wall and tell the guy to lick my shoes. He doesn't know how to react, so I grab him by the hair, throw him to the floor and tell him to lick. He's still not doing anything, so I take out my gun – it wasn't loaded, I just feel it helps people to hurry up when they aren't doing what I want – and point it at his head, telling him to start licking. He freaks – he breaks into tears and starts to grab my legs, begging me not to shoot. Instantly, I knew I had made a mistake. This guy was just terrified – he didn't want to submit to me at all. Sometimes it's hard to tell.” Ms Scott took another drag on her cigarette and looked out of the window. “But he had all he wanted to take me to court – sexual assault, threatening use of a firearm – so letting him go would be risky. We couldn't have my secret being out, could we, Sara? So…I drove him, at gunpoint, to a cliff-top. People can lose their footing up there…it's such a shame.” Sara's eyes widened as she realised what Ms Scott meant. “He didn't want to lick my boots in the end. I'm sure he's regretting that now: it was quite a fall. They never did find the body – if they had they would have noticed that he was naked, and his asshole was considerably wider than average.” Sara started to sweat. Suddenly Ms Davies seemed like a much safer option – as far as Sara knew, she had never killed someone. Sara felt very subconscious – she was naked, in the hands of a killer. She felt like screaming out – but hell, if she did, who knows what Ms Scott would do to her? She could easily lose her footing at the top of a cliff…

“Oh, what's wrong, my dear? You've gone all pale! We'll soon sort that out, get some colour back into those cheeks…well…one pair of cheeks at least.” Sara nodded, unsure how to react to Ms Scott's words now. “You know, I love white bitches. I've tried to dominate black girls – I really have – but it never feels right. I feel as though they should be on their feet with me, laughing at some little white bitch. Nadia's not white, of course – lovely Indian skin, which goes a bright purple colour when I beat her enough. Still, I envy Ms Davies. Having a little white whore to play with is a dream – I can have more than one bitch though, I suppose. There are plenty of Caucasian girls out there who like to be chained up and used – I guess I'll find one some day. I was rather hoping Eric would be my bitch. Sadly, it was not to be. Oh well. C'est la vie, and all that shit. I can't complain, really, can I? I've got a little tramp knelt before me, a bitch who knows that I am better than her in every way – that I am superior, as Ms Davies would say. My life…is good, I suppose. Keep your legs spread, Sara.” She quickly swatted Sara's thighs, causing Sara to cry out and spread her legs out further, so that her cunt was exposed to Ms Scott. Ms Scott smiled weakly. “My my. Someone's enthusiastic. But we'll get to that later, Sara. Right now I want to catch up on the day's events.” With that, Ms Scott walked over to the television and turned it on, before sitting down on the sofa, resting her feet on Sara as if she were some kind of piece of furniture. Ms Scott pretended as if Sara didn't exist as a person whilst she watched the TV, apart from when Sara started to tire, and her back began to cave in from the pressure of Ms Scott's legs. Then she would grab her crop and whip Sara's ass whilst muttering insults at her, along the lines of “No good whore…” or “Ms Davies will not be pleased…” The latter scared Sara the most. As frightening as Ms Scott was, Ms Davies still gave Sara the chills. She would shoot up back to her original position as quickly as possible when she felt the crop against her backside – which, as it was tiring, was often. Finally, after Ms Scott got bored of the news and turned to MTV, Ms Davies walked through the door, holding several bags.

“I'm back! Is my whore here yet? Or is she late as always?” She turned and looked at Ms Scott, who was now digging her heels into Sara's back and laughing at the pained expression on the poor girl's face. “Oh. She is here. Glad to see you've made yourself comfortable with her, Alice.” Ms Davies smiled at her good friend, who had acknowledged her arrival with a wave and another jab into Sara's ribs. She wasn't into the habit of calling mistresses by their domme name – she felt it put her on the same level as the subs – and that, considering Alice 's dominant nature, was the worst thing she could do. She remembered a couple of years ago, when she had first met Alice – neither had revealed their lifestyle to each other until they had known each other for a month. Alice had gotten the wrong end of the stick, sadly: she had pushed Ms Davies to the floor and told her to worship the ground she walked on. In a couple of seconds, Alice had a black eye, and soon realised that Ms Davies was perhaps not the correct person to try to dominate. After an angry exchange, the two got talking, and discovered their similarities – they ended the night firm friends, after seducing two hapless men into submission – they revelled in their dominance, using the men as whores and slaves, before dumping them by the side of the road, tied up and with the words “Cum Dump” on their foreheads. It was a good night indeed, and since then, Ms Davies had stayed excellent friends with Alice . It was rare in this city to find a person who used people as she did.

“Well, it took some work, Jenny, but I finally was able to make her submit.” Ms Scott licked her lips, looking down at Sara as she said this. She knew that if Sara had dared disobey her, Ms Davies would be furious. Sara quivered as the two mistresses talked.

“What? What did the bitch do wrong?” Ms Davies looked down at Sara with her usual contempt, thinking of all the punishments she could administer with every wrong foot Sara had made.

“Well, for one thing, she was not naked and kneeling when I answered the door.” Sara opened her mouth in protest – this, strictly speaking, was not true. She had been kneeling naked – she had just got up and dressed again as soon as she saw Ms Scott. Instantly the hand came down – one from Ms Scott on the face, the other from Ms Davies on the ass – and instantly Sara shut up. One mistress was bad enough – she didn't want any more trouble.

“Please, continue, Alice . So my whore was being disobedient – no surprise there. Had to choke the bitch yesterday when she had a tantrum. She forgot her place – let's hope it's not a recurring habit. Anything else I should know about?” Ms Scott smiled and produced a list of fantastic accusations – ranging from speaking out of turn, to attempting to escape, to even trying to attack Ms Scott. Sara listened to the list with horror – none of it was correct, of course – the worst crime she could think of was not listening to Ms Scott, or sagging as a piece of furniture. Ms Davies tutted (rather insincerely) at each of the accusations, until Ms Scott accused Sara of calling Ms Davies a “bitch”. At this, Ms Davies glowered at Sara, who couldn't take it anymore. She knelt up onto her knees and opened her mouth to speak.

“Mistress, please! I would never call my Mistress a bitch – I did not do any of those things!” She received a hard slap from Ms Davies and a cold stare.

“Are you calling Ms Scott a liar?” Sara bit her lip. How could she phrase this delicately?

“Yes.” Ms Davies snarled at Sara, and pulled her face close to her mouth by yanking her hair harshly.

“But, bitch, correct me if I am wrong – which is rare indeed – isn't Ms Scott superior to you? Is that true?” Sara could not disagree with this – she was below Ms Scott – she was a Mistress, and Sara was…well, nothing. She nodded her head reluctantly.

“So why should I believe you, a common tramp, over my dear friend Ms Scott? Why should I do that, slut?” Sara was lost for words, and was suddenly confused. Did she have to accept lies as the truth from people who were superior to her? If someone better than her said it, did it suddenly become the truth? As Sara tried to sort out the problem in her mind, Ms Davies got out her cane and started to beat Sara. “I want an answer, bitch! Why…” Thwack. “…should…” Thwack. “…I…” Thwack. “…do…” Thwack. “…that?!” Thwack thwack thwack. Sara was in tears, her ass red.

“I don't know, Mistress.” She spluttered out the words through her tears, much to the delight of Ms Davies, who put the cane down and looked at her slut.

“No answer. We'll punish you later for your multiple cases of insolence, whore – first, though, I'm hungry. I got us some take away, from the Chinese restaurant.” Sara stopped sobbing. She loved Chinese food, and hadn't eaten all day. She couldn't – she was too nervous about seeing Ms Davies. She licked her lips as Ms Davies and Ms Scott walked to the kitchen to get the food – she couldn't wait. However, when they returned with just enough food for two people, Sara started to worry again. They sat down, ignoring Sara, and chatted about their lives – Ms Scott talking about Nadia, and how she “raped” her five times yesterday (Ms Scott preferred to think of every sexual encounter with a slave as rape – made it seem as if the slave wasn't enjoying it, and that she was the only one getting any pleasure from the experience. Often she would make sure she would catch Nadia at her least turned on, to make this fact ring true – she loved the sounds of pain and screams for mercy as the dildo went in – something which could never be simulated), and Ms Davies talking casually about her exploits with Sara – about satisfying the manager at Dino's, and about cleaning a stranger's shoes in the toilet. Sara blushed as Ms Davies explained what happened – often, Ms Scott would call Sara a dirty whore under her breath after every story Ms Davies told. Sara was still waiting for her food when Ms Davies and Ms Scott were eating their fortune cookies – they continued to ignore her, until the very end. Ms Davies suddenly feigned surprise as she looked down from her seat to see Sara.

“Oh my! We seem to have forgotten someone, Alice! There's a hungry little bitch here wanting some food! What shall we do?” They both pretended to ponder over this difficult conundrum, before Ms Davies got up and walked to the kitchen. “I have just the thing!” Finally, Sara thought. Some food. She was not impressed with what she got.

Ms Davies came back in, holding a tin of dog food and a dog's bowl, with the name “Sara” engraved. Sara groaned – surely they wouldn't do this to her? Ms Davies grinned evilly as she placed the bowl in front of her, opened up the tin and dumped its contents into the bowl. “Dinner is served.” She giggled at her joke, and then stepped back to see Sara's reaction – of utter disgust. She couldn't eat that! It wasn't good for her! It had big lumps of jelly and meat – and the stench was positively revolting! Ms Davies looked at her, unimpressed. “Well, you are a bitch, so a dog's dinner you shall have! I thought it was a rather clever pun, whore. Didn't you?” Sara nodded meekly. “Go on, tuck in. You must be starving.” Sara held her breath, and went to pick up a piece of the dog food. Instantly she received a harsh kick up the backside.

“Oi! You're a bitch, so eat like one! Mouth first! No hands!” Sara shuddered, and, sobbing with humiliation, licked a bit of the dog food. Ms Davies was still not happy. “Oh, come on! Put some effort into it, slut! Eat!” With that, she put her foot on the back of Sara's head and pushed her head into the food, holding her face down in the dog food for about a minute. Ms Scott was shrieking with laughter as Sara begged for mercy. Eventually Ms Davies took her food off Sara's head, and bent down to speak to the humiliated girl. “Finish it all. Or you'll be in even more trouble.” With that, Sara started to wolf down this muck, afraid of what Ms Davies would do – much to the delight of both of the mistresses, who were laughing themselves silly at this pathetic bitch. Ms Davies wiped away a tear as Sara sobbed over her situation – at the start of the week, she was just an ordinary girl…now this. Her tears fell into her food slowly – she felt she couldn't be degraded more. How wrong she was…

After the bowl had been licked clean, Ms Davies dragged Sara by the hair into the living room, where Ms Scott was sitting by the television, flicking through the channels. Sara looked confused. Was this her punishment? TV? Her heart sank as Ms Davies got out a smallish rack from behind the couch, and propped it against the wall. She ordered Sara to crawl to her, and then pulled her up by the hair – causing her to shriek out and causing Ms Davies to angrily slap her breasts. Sara stood nervously as Ms Davies secured her arms to the rack, and then her legs. She was utterly helpless – just as Ms Davies wanted her. Now that she was restrained, Ms Davies began to explain the rules.

“OK, slut. We're going to play a game. Have you ever played drinking games, whore?” Sara nodded her head. She was confused, but still didn't like the sound of this. “OK, this is kind of like one of those games. We're going to watch a couple episodes of Friends , whore.” Sara groaned again. The one thing worse than being chained to a rack in the same room as a sadist and an apparent killer was sitting through an hour of that drivel. “But we're going to have fun with it, bitch. Every time Chandler is sarcastic, I'm going to put a breast clamp on you. If he does it more than twice, I'm going to pull them off and start again. Every time Phoebe plays the guitar, I'm going to cane your stomach ten times. Every time Joey does something stupid, I'm going to pinch your nipples. Every time Ross does something nerdy, I'm going to spit in your mouth. Every time Monica says something to do with cleaning, I'm going burn you with Ms Scott's cigarette. Every time the audience laugh at Rachel, I'm going to bite you on the tits. And if one of them kisses…I'm going to take this dildo…” She picked up a dildo, and started to line it with Tabasco sauce, “…and I'm going to ram it up your ass.” Sara stared, wide eyed at Ms Davies. This was going to be hell – her body was in the hands of six actors and script-writers. She stared at the television nervously as the episode started up, every so often looking at Ms Davies, who was smiling at Sara wickedly. Just a couple of seconds went by before Phoebe picked up her guitar and started to play – much to the horror of Sara, who started to scream out as Ms Davies caned her bare stomach ten times. Sara lowered her head in anguish after Ms Davies had finished – before Ms Davies pulled up her head by her hair and stared at her.

“I forgot to mention – after every action, you will thank me. Understood?” Sara nodded reluctantly, but then started to squirm again as Ms Davies grabbed her head and ordered Sara to open her mouth – Ross had just said something nerdy about dinosaurs. Sara wept as Ms Davies spat into her mouth, continuing her degradation.

“Thank you Ms Davies.”

“You're welcome, whore.” She flashed a smile, and the torment continued. Sara moaned as Rachel made a joke – Ms Davies smiled as she lowered her head to Sara's breasts, opened her mouth and then closed in on her tits, causing Sara to squeal out.

“Thank you Ms Davies.” Sara had barely enough time before Chandler said something sarcastic – suddenly a breast clamp dug into her tender flesh, causing her to scream out – Ms Scott was loving it. She tried to thank Ms Davies, but before she could, Joey had done something moronic – and she felt her nipples – already in a tight spot as her breasts had been clamped – being tugged and pulled mercilessly. She started to sob her thank yous, as Ms Davies struggled to keep up.

“Hrm, this is harder than it looks. Alice , could you give me a hand?” Ms Scott jumped at the chance, and walked over to Sara, who was now crying with pain – she had a breast clamp on one of her tits, her nipples were sore and red, welts were growing on her stomach – she was crying uncontrollably. The hits continued to ring out – Ross said something, then Joey, then Chandler – instantly Sara felt another breast clamp on her other breast by Ms Davies, and was ordered to open her mouth by Ms Scott as she tugged her nipples. All the while, Sara was thanking these evil women as they laughed at her pain. Monica suddenly blurted out things about cleaning, and rapidly Sara felt a burning pain like no other as Ms Scott casually pressed her lighted cigarette against Sara's flesh several times. Sara tits were bitten again, her stomach was beaten – the punishments blurred into one as she moaned out her thanks to her mistresses. She began to go dizzy with pain – all these horrible things happening to her at once – she screamed out, begging for them to stop now.

Then, suddenly…nothing. Both Ms Davies and Ms Scott stopped, looking at Sara, who was battered and bruised like she had just been in a war. Her breasts were bleeding, her nipples were raw, her stomach was bloody, and her legs were covered in cigarette burns. She swallowed the last of Ms Davies' spit, and looked at her, wondering why they had stopped.

“Fucking commercials.” Ms Davies sighed, and flicked Sara's breast, causing her to scream out. Sara's face was red with tears – she looked at Ms Davies, begging her to let her down, to stop this horrible pain. Ms Davies grinned. “We've still got forty-five minutes to go!” Sara moaned in anguish, her body unable to take anymore of this. Ms Scott looked at Ms Davies, and smiled wickedly.

“Perhaps we should change the rules a bit. If someone kisses, instead of getting that dildo up your ass, we will untie you, stop playing this game and take you to the bedroom. How does that sound?” Sara jumped at the chance. She nodded happily – anything to stop this horrible experience. The show began again, and the torture continued – the breast clamps were yanked off after another sarcastic comment from Chandler – Sara's stomach got redder as Phoebe played the guitar – Ms Scott even started to cigarette-burn Sara's face after Monica made more cleaning comments. Sara continued to thank them, until, at long last, two of the characters kissed. Sara screamed out in joy, and Ms Davies and Ms Scott reluctantly untied her, threw her to the floor, and dragged her to the bedroom. Sara smiled happily…until she saw what they had in store for her here.

Ms Davies and Ms Scott had both put on huge strap-ons, and were standing before this poor girl with huge grins on their faces. “Open up wide, bitch. Ms Scott will take your mouth, and I will take your rear. And we hope you like it hot, whore. We've put some extra hot sauce on these strap-ons, just for you.” Sara started to whimper, and shook her head as Ms Scott tried to put her strap-on into her mouth.

“Oh, dear, slut. Why do you choose to be disobedient at the worst times?” Ms Scott smacked down on Sara's back, causing her mouth to open, allowing her to force in the huge plastic penis. Sara choked on it – it was massive, and it was burning her mouth. She had no choice but to accept it though – Ms Scott was thrusting as hard as she could, raping her mouth. At the other end, Ms Davies had spread Sara's ass cheeks, and was about to thrust her “cock” into Sara's wriggling, struggling ass, before she noticed how white Sara's back was.

“Tut tut, slut! We can't have you having a red stomach and a white back! What would people think! Don't worry, Mistress is here to sort it out for you!” She picked up her crop and started to whip Sara's back, making her scream into Ms Scott's penis. She wasn't expecting that – it was pure agony! She started to cry again – being spit-roasted by two women after being essentially beaten up and tortured by them was not what she had in mind. She was in hell – her mouth was on fire and…as Ms Davies thrust her cock into her ass, now her ass was as well. She started to wriggle and squirm even more, before she felt the smack of the crop again on her back. Tears rolled down her face – she couldn't win. It was horrible.

“Look at me, slut! Look at me!” Ms Scott ordered Sara – her big, brown eyes looked down on Sara. Sara noticed for the first time the same anger that was in her eyes – it was just like Ms Davies – very determined. It automatically made you feel inferior – which was what you were, Sara assumed, if you were in Sara's position. Her brown hair was flowing down past her shoulders, and her breasts, held up now by her latex corset, jiggled with her thrusting motion. “Look at your goddess, whore! Look at your superior, you white cunt!” She laughed at Sara again, before finally climaxing – she shuddered to a halt, just as Ms Davies was cumming as well. Sara felt the two pull the cocks out, and collapsed to the floor, exhausted. Ms Davies and Ms Scott fell onto the bed, also extremely tired. Ms Scott got out her cigarette again and took a drag on it. “We must have you two over to see my slut. I had a really great time, Jenny.”

“Think nothing of it. Sluts are there to be used, after all.” The two laughed at the expense of Sara, who was lying on the floor, leaking out all sorts of fluids and writhing about in pain. At long last, she got back on all fours and raised her hand weakly.

“Yes, what is it, bitch?” Ms Davies had obviously lost her patience with her.

“Mistress, I was wondering if I may leave now. It is late.” Ms Davies laughed.

“Oh, my, slut! What makes you think you get to choose if you leave or not? I'll be the judge of that, and I say you must stay.” Sara's face fell.

“But…where will I sleep?” Ms Davies stared at Sara, got up, and dragged her back to the living room. She threw her onto the rack, securing her arms and legs in nice and tight.

“Here seems like a good enough place, whore. And, just to make sure you don't snore during the night…” She produced a ball gag and stuffed it in Sara's protesting mouth. “…there we are! See you in the morning, slut! Don't let the bed bugs bite!” Ms Davies giggled as she walked away, turning out the light and leaving Sara, tired, beaten and sobbing, to wonder whether this slut lark was such a good thing after all.