Forced into Submission Read online

  “Sara, I wasn’t your mother’s slave. It was a game we played,” I pleaded.

  “Kimmy, take off your clothes,” she said.

  “Sara, this has gone far enough,” I blustered, “I want you to leave right now.”

  “You will address me as Miss Simmons from now on,” she said, as if she hadn’t heard me, “and I told you to strip!”

  “Sara!”

  She jumped up from the couch and slapped me hard across the face. I was furious with rage but my body was betraying me. It liked the thrill of what was happening.

  “Kimmy,” she said, “I have copies of this DVD and others of you performing lots of deliciously degrading acts that I won’t hesitate to use. I also put them on a secure website that I would love to share if you piss me off. I don’t give a shit if it was real or a game with my mother because it’s real now. You belong to me, bitch. Now get your fucking clothes off!”

  I was beaten and I knew it. What could I do? She had enough to blackmail me for life and I knew she would use it. My fingers moved to my blouse and undid the first button..

  “Later we are going to have one of those punishment sessions you seem so fond of,” she laughed.

  “Please, Miss Simmons, please, it was just a game. Please don’t make me do this,” I begged.

  “Shut up you stupid bitch,” she screamed. “My first rule is that you never, and I mean never, speak without being spoken to. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Miss Simmons.”

  “Kimmy,” she purred, “I’ve watched all of the videos my mom made and I know you liked being her slave. I can also see that being forced to strip for me is turning you on so, save the bullshit and get undressed.”

  I hated her. She was right and I hated her. My mind was already racing forward to the degrading acts she was going to make me perform and my pussy was on fire. The ache was physical. I was so wet I could already feel it dripping down my leg.

  “I never understood what my mother saw in you,” she mused, “I always thought you were a stuck up bitch and I hated the way you treated me. Now that little stuck up bitch is my little bitch and I’m going to make you pay for the way you’ve treated me all these years.”

  I continued removing my clothes but when I got down to my panties and bra I stopped. I was embarrassed to be undressing in front of a girl twenty years my junior and I was embarrassed about the fountain that my cunt had become.

  “Take off your bra and show me your tits, Kimmy,” she demanded.

  I flushed with shame but the bitch owned me. My mind wanted a way out but I was trapped in a corner of my own making. I reached behind me, undid my bra and let it slide off my shoulders to the floor revealing my softly rounded but still perky breasts. I wanted to cover myself but I knew she would be angry so I stood with my head down and my hands by my sides.

  “Put your hands behind your head and get your head up, Kimmy,” she commanded.

  I put my hands behind my neck causing my breasts to rise and stand out begging for attention. They got it. She softly caressed them, tweaking my nipples to points that were so hard they would have cut a diamond. I couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped my lips.

  “That’s my little slut,” she crowed, “I knew you liked to be treated like this. Now let’s get rid of those panties, shall we?”

  I pulled down my panties, kicked them away and put my hands back behind my head. I was already learning to anticipate her desires and I hated myself for it. I waited in shame.

  “Spread your legs,” she said, “I want that filthy pussy open for me.”

  I spread my legs and felt the wetness running down them. She walked around me, inspecting me like I was a piece of meat she was considering and then started moving her hands over my ass. I couldn’t help but stick it out for more attention. She stood behind me and placed her hands on my thighs and slowly moved them up into my crotch. When her fingers found my slit the flush of humiliation and desire caused me to tremble violently.

  “Oh my god,” I pleaded silently, “please, please touch me, rub me, oh god.”

  I was quaking with need. I hated her. I hated what she was doing. I hated myself for wanting her but I didn’t want her to stop. She moved her finger lightly on my bud and I felt the beginning of what promised to be the most intense orgasm I had ever had. If being her slave brought me to this it might be worth it. Then she stopped. I quivered with frustration.

  “No, no, no,” my mind screamed, “don’t stop now!”

  “Oh, Kimmy,” she laughed, “you are going to be so miserable being my slave because I am very rarely going to let you have the release you so clearly crave. I plan to keep you very frustrated for the rest of your life.”

  I heard the words but my brain couldn’t comprehend them. Surely she wouldn’t, would she? I shuddered at the thought but it called to some basic need inside of me.

  “I like that position, Kimmy,” she said. “It shows you off nicely. Remember it because I will expect you to assume it anytime I give you the command ‘display’, do you understand?”

  “Yes, Miss Simmons.”

  “Good. Now I have a few rules to go over that will explain your new position in life,” she said, “but first I want you to go out to my car and fetch my things and the bag of ‘toys’ I found at my mother’s.”

  “But…” I started.

  “Shut the fuck up!” she shouted. “I told you never to speak without being asked a direct question. I plan to whip you for that little outburst. I don’t care that you are naked and that the neighbors might see, go out and get my bags now!”

  I started for the door.

  “By the way, Kimmy,” she said, “I expect you to crawl like the animal you are now anytime your task doesn’t require you to stand.”

  I got down on my hands and knees and crawled toward the front door.

  My Best Friend’s Daughter-Chapter 2

  It was dark outside but both of my neighbors had a clear view of my driveway and the yard lights were on. Sara had parked her car at the end of the drive about 200 feet from my door. I crawled as fast as I could, praying that the old biddy whose kitchen window looked out on my driveway didn’t see me. Mrs. Fitch hated me and would relish seeing me in my present degrading position. As I reached the car I could see her peering out of the window. I ducked behind it and peeked over the trunk. She was still looking out, shading her eyes trying to see better. I crouched down and shivered in the cold air. I was miserable. My hands and knees hurt from the pebbles in the driveway. My hair was hanging in my face and I could feel my mascara running from my earlier tears. When I looked again she was still there. Damn!

  “Kimmy, I’m waiting,” Sara called from my doorway, “The bags are in the back seat. Bring them now!”

  I pulled the back door open and dragged the two bags onto the ground next to me, shielding myself from the biddy’s prying eyes with the car. I was going to have to stand up to carry the bags but a quick peek showed her still at the window. Shit!

  “Now, Kimmy!”

  I jumped up, grabbed both bags and sprinted for the door. Hopefully the old cunt’s eyesight would be bad enough that she wouldn’t put together that her neighbor was running outside completely naked. I burst through the door, dropped the bags, slammed the door and dropped back to my knees. I was so scared and turned on that my heart was racing and a flush of heat was enveloping my entire body.

  “Display!”

  It took me a moment to remember that the command ‘display’ meant I was to assume the degrading position that she had taught me. I jumped to my feet, placed me hands behind my neck and stuck my breasts out.

  “I don’t like to be kept waiting, Kimmy,” my new owner said sternly, “and you are going to learn that one way or another.”

  She walked around me, touching me lightly, caressing my ass and breasts as if they were a valued possession. In spite of everything or perhaps because of it my nipples were rock hard and a steady stream was still running from between my legs.
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  “Take my bag to the master bedroom, leave it and crawl back out here. We are going to have a little spanking session to remind you to obey instantly.”

  I picked up her bag and carried it into my bedroom. I was in a daze. My present situation was horrible but the word ‘spanking’ had triggered a response deep inside me. My body was sending signals that it needed some sexual relief. My hand found its way between my legs and I worked frantically to get over the top. Just a few seconds more. Then, just as my peak was approaching, it was ruined by her screaming from the living room.

  “Kimmy!” she shouted. “What’s taking so long in there? You had better not be playing with yourself. I’m going to count to three and you had better be kissing my feet before I get to three. One…two…”

  I dropped to the floor and scrambled as fast as I could on my sore hands and knees. I reached her and started kissing her dirty sneakers just before the dreaded ‘three’. My mind was in turmoil. How had my life come to this? How had I sunk so low in less than an hour?

  “I’m thinking that I’m not going to be able to trust you alone, am I, Kimmy?” she laughed. “I’m thinking that you might play with yourself regardless of the consequences if I give you the opportunity, won’t you? I’m thinking that I’m going to need some sort of permanent solution for those times I will have to leave you alone, won’t I?”

  “Permanent solution?” I wondered. “What does that mean?”

  “Open the bag, Kimmy,” she ordered.

  I opened the bag and my heart rate went up fifty beats. Inside were all of the familiar ‘toys’ that her mother and I had used when we had played our games together. I hated what I knew was coming but my body remembered the delicious pleasure of being spanked and cried out for it.

  “Where to begin…” my tormenter mused. “So many choices. But then we have all the time in the world, don’t we my little slave? We have time to re-enact every single one of the punishments on the videos and then invent some new ones. Let’s start with the ping pong paddle and you draped over my knees.”

  She picked up the paddle, moved to the couch and sat down, waiting expectantly. I slowly crawled over to her and lay over her lap with my ass in perfect position for the rain of blows she was going to inflict with her right hand. She rubbed the paddle lightly over my bottom.

  “Oh, Kimmy,” she gushed, “you have no idea how many orgasms I’ve had picturing exactly this scene since I found those videos. I know my mom told you she destroyed them and well… …she did! I found them and copied them before she destroyed the originals. Wasn’t that clever of me? Now you are my slave and I can torment and frustrate you forever! We are going to have so much fun!”

  Her words inflamed me. I was moaning and sticking my rear out begging for the paddle to inflame me further. When the first blow hit it shocked me. She was stronger than her mother and was putting real power into her swing. By the fourth slap my moans had turned to distress and I was crying and begging her to stop.

  “We’ve just begun, my little slut,” she said. “This won’t be one of those wimpy spankings my mom used to give you. You are a real slave now and you will be punished properly when you anger me. Besides it really turns me on to hear you scream.”

  I was screaming in real distress when the doorbell rang. She stopped and pushed me off of her lap.

  “Answer the door, slut,” she said.

  I looked at her. I couldn’t answer the door like this. She couldn’t expect me to answer the door like this. I opened my mouth to speak.

  “Shut your fucking mouth and go answer the door, Kimmy,’ she said sternly, “and you may stand when you do.”

  I crawled to the door, stood up and opened it. I stood with my body behind the door and peeked around it. Standing on my front step was my bitchy neighbor Mrs. Fitch.

  “Um…hi, Mrs. Fitch,” I stuttered, “can I…uh… help you?”

  “Kim, what’s going on?” she asked.

  “Uh, nothing, Mrs. Fitch…uh, I’m…uh entertaining a friend,” I managed to stammer out.

  “Kim,” she said forcefully, “I demand to know what is going on. A few minutes ago I saw you naked out on the lawn and when I came over to ask about it I hear you screaming. What are you up to?”

  “It’s nothing, Mrs. Fitch,” I said, “we’re just playing a little game. Please go home.”

  I had her convinced. I could see the hesitation in her eyes change to indifference. She was just turning away when the bitch who owned me said, “Invite her in, Kimmy.”

  I whirled and looked at her. I pleaded with my eyes for her to please not do this to me but she just smiled and said, “Now, Kimmy.”

  I turned back to Mrs. Fitch and with a dismal heart said, “Please come in, Mrs. Fitch.”

  As Mrs. Fitch entered I closed the door and sank to my knees. My shame was overwhelming me. I couldn’t move. Mrs. Fitch was dumbstruck.

  “Hi, I’m Sara,” the bitch said walking toward Mrs. Fitch and extending her hand.

  “Uh, hi, uh, I’m Helga Fitch, what’s going on?”

  “Nice to meet you, Helga,” the bitch said smoothly, “why don’t you sit down in the living room and I’ll explain. Kimmy crawl to the living room and ‘display’ for us.”

  Could it get any worse? Standing in that stupid position with my tits out, totally exposed in front of two women whom I hated? Mrs. Fitch took her time walking around and inspecting me. I guess she was a bit embarrassed as she didn’t fondle me. I could tell from her labored breathing, however, that something about having me in this position was turning her on and I doubted that my reprieve from having her clammy hands on me would last very long.

  “Wow!” she exclaimed, “what is she your slave or something?”

  “Not, or something,” my owner said smugly, “she is most certainly my slave.”

  “How…what…what was all that screaming I heard?”

  “Well, Helga,” my owner said, “she just became my slave today and I…well I was just starting to explain her new life to her. You know, the rules and all, and I thought I would start off with a spanking to let her know who is boss and the importance of obedience and…well you kind of interrupted us.”

  “You were spanking her?” Helga gasped incredulously. “She lets you do that?”

  “Helga, she is a slave. I can do what I want.”

  “Oh my god,” Helga said, “oh my god. Can I, uh, can I…uh spank her too?”

  “Would you like to?”

  “Do you know what that little bitch did to my roses one night with her car? She came home drunk and…”

  “Helga!” my owner shouted, interrupting her, “I get it. The stuck up little slut needs a lesson. Be my guest and pick out something you want to use from the bag.”

  Helga started rummaging through the bag frantically.

  “Helga,” my owner laughed, “take your time, we have all night.”

  My Best Friend’s Daughter-Chapter 3

  Mrs. Fitch picked out a leather belt and doubled it in half. As she swished it through the air the look on her face was frightening. Sara’s mom had used that belt on me a few times but only when she had been truly angry and wanted to really teach me a lesson. It hurt. It hurt but it still excited me. The juxtaposition of arousal and fear was overwhelming my senses and I started whimpering deep in my throat.

  “That’s right, little bitch dog,” Mrs. Fitch sneered, “you are going to be whipped. I am going to listen to you howl.”

  She lashed out with the belt and caught my right ass-cheek. It hurt so badly I did howl. All I could think of was to crawl away from her. She chased me around the room raining blows down indiscriminately on various parts of my body. Eventually I was trapped in a corner with nowhere to go so I turned and grabbed her around her thighs which made it awkward for her to get a full swing at my ass. I was crying and pleading with her to stop.

  “Is my little bitch sorry?” she asked.

  “Oh god yes, Mrs. Fitch, please, please stop,” I begged.
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br />   “Really sorry?” she asked while the belt continued to snap at my rear.

  “Yes, please,” I sobbed.

  She grabbed my hair with her left hand and pulled my head under her skirt, rotating my face so that it was buried between her legs.

  “Show me how sorry.”

  “Wh…what?” I stammered.

  She let go of one end of the belt and swung the free end so that it wrapped itself between my legs, striking my cunt. I yelped into her panties.

  “Oooo…” she moaned, “like that, yes, show me like that.”

  I rapidly learned that if I gave her what she wanted that she forgot to use the whip so I gave her what she wanted. When she came she shuddered for a moment, let go of me, staggered to the couch and collapsed. My ass was on fire but so was my pussy. I had to find a way to get a few minutes alone. I needed some quality time with my right hand.

  “Wow,” gushed Mrs. Fitch to Sara, “she has definitely sipped at that cup before, hasn’t she?”

  “Yes,” my owner said smugly, “she was my mom’s slave and she was trained well.”

  “How did she come to be yours?”

  “My mom died and I inherited her,” my owner said.

  “But…but she lives here and I’ve seen her coming and going and…”

  “Yes, well, that’s all done now.” my owner laughed. “I think when my mom died she thought she was free but let’s just say she um…changed her mind.”

  Mrs. Fitch looked down at me quivering with shame and said, “That is…wow… your own slave, I mean for real, wow! What do you plan to do with her?”

  “I plan to train her to serve me. To bathe me, cook for me, dress me, undress me and perform special little personal chores… like what she just did for you.”

  “Are you going to take her away?” Mrs. Fitch asked plaintively.

  “No, Helga,” my owner chuckled, “I plan to live here.”

  “Are you going to need help?”

  “What do you mean, Helga?”

  “I mean I live next door and all and I could…”