Dependent

Chapter 9

Codes: F/f, M/f, Exhibition, Teen, D/s, Slavery, Humiliation, Consensual

I dance.  If I ‘m not drunk, you are unlikely to witness it.  As my mother tells it, I was dancing not long after I was walking.  She even enrolled me in a dance group when I was young.  I loved it, but I gave up when I was 13.  At first I made up excuses, then I just stopped going.  I was probably afraid of something, though for the life of me I can’t remember what.  Now I dance just for me, or when my Mistress commands it.

I am dancing now as part of my daily exercise.  It’s also a good way to pass the time.  I whirl and shake across the carpet in front of the television.  My naked body drips with sweat as I push myself.  Mistress has finally given me some clothes to wear, not including the black leather collar I wear at all time.  I’d rather they not stink of sweat, so I dance naked.  My legs sweep high through the air, and I launch myself gracefully about the room.

Mistress is pleased with my cock sucking skills, though I still think I can do better.  Now each day I watch lesbian videos.  Though she still seems to enjoy our love making, I think Mistress would prefer me to be more enthusiastic.  We have not made love in the past few days, so I am actually eager to try out some new techniques. 

It didn’t take long for Mistress to realize she had to ration out my sexual use.  Not for my benefit, but for hers.  She and Master are most in love, but when he can get his dick sucked as readily as he can have me fetch him a beverage, his appetite for love making wanes.  At the end of the day, Mistress enjoys, and often demands, a good fuck from her fiancé.  I was doing a pretty good job of servicing each of them with my mouth, but it is the coupling she needs.  There is some spiritual connection between the two of them that I may never fully understand.

Mistress has also decided I should not come without express permission.  This makes the lonely days longer, but it does ensure I am extra happy when my owners come home.  I have been Mistress Summer’s slave for more than a week now.  I’m not very good at keeping track of time.  The days blur together, and that’s the way I like it.  Technically, I belong to Mistress Summers and Master Lain, but she is the dominant one.  He has always been content to follow her lead, but he is not able (or perhaps willing) to fulfill her need for a truly submissive partner.  I hope I can be everything she needs.

The song I am dancing to ends and I decide to get cleaned up before Mistress comes home.  I walk to the bathroom and retrieve the red bucket from under the sink.  A single pair of full bottomed white cotton panties rest in the bottom.  They are Mistress’ panties from the day before, and I am commanded to clean myself with them.  I fill the bucket with cold water and sit on the tiles next to the small drain.  I lift the soaked panties up to my face and squeeze them.  Cool water runs down my hot face, neck and chest.  Using only the panties, I scrub the sweat from my body.  The used panties are a lousy sponge, but what more do I deserve?  I have a floor to sleep on, leftovers to eat and people who will protect me, maybe even love me.  Finally I dump the buckets contents over my head.  I take one of the bathroom towels and dry my glowing white skin and matted red hair.  Mistress is wise enough to let me use a towel.  The first day of my new life, she came home and found me waiting for her, crisp and clean, but shivering with blue lips from the air conditioned chill. 

When Mistress unlocks and opens the front door, I am waiting obediently in the prescribed place wearing the harem slave outfit Mistress purchased for me.  The costume has long ballooning pants made from a pink, entirely see through, material.  As I kneel with my legs spread wide, the slit that provides easy access to my holes must be quite visible.   I hold my arms behind my back.  The position forces my breasts out for inspection.  The rounded flesh orbs are concealed by a wisp of purple cloth no more substantial than the leggings.  My black slave collar seems out of place with the faux finery. 

I lick my lips and prepare to execute some of the techniques I have been studying.  Mistress smiles down at me warmly.   She kisses me passionately on the lips.  Her tongue invades my mouth.  I close my eyes and pretend I am kissing Olivia Wilde.   I lick and suck on the tongue in my mouth.  Just when it is getting good, Mistress pulls back.   She gives me a single, almost conciliatory, pat on the head and continues past me to the bathroom. 

When I reach the bathroom, Mistress is already stripping out of her work clothes.  I am already naked.  We step into the shower together, and I am ready to begin washing her skin even as she is still adjusting the water temperature.  Mistress doesn’t like hot showers, and I am rarely under the stream of water anyway, as such it is a cold job for me.  Both my owners enjoy my services in this area, though Mistress prefers I wash her, and Master treats me more like a waterproof bath toy.  When she is done showering, I dry Mistress off gently.

Still naked, Mistress sits on the toilet.  She perches on the edge of the seat, and I kneel, between her legs.  I open my mouth and press it against her crotch.  A thin trickle quickly becomes a strong tide, and my mouth fills with hot, horrible, urine.  I struggle to drink the piss as fast as it is forced into my mouth.  Pausing, Mistress hooks two fingers up my nostrils and pulls my head back from her snatch.  By now I know what she wants.  I sit with my mouth open and held high, rolling my tongue around into the pool of golden piss.  There is so much to drink, and by time I finish it feels like I have drunk two or three bottles of water.  My stomach (which thanks to my exercises has become firmer than it has been in years) swells to make room for the human waste.  I use my tongue to clean Mistress’ delicate parts thoroughly.  She pushes me away before I can get creative. 

She makes me sit and watch (and smell) as she relieves herself.  Mistress promised me I would be allowed to use her toilet paper, if I served her in that capacity.  That’s probably the worst deal I have ever heard of, and my aversion of scat made me reject the offer immediately. 

“You told me how you started drinking your own pee during high school, but you never said why.”

I hang my head in shame.  The unique stink fills my nostrils and I am conscious of the amber excrement sloshing around in my belly.  I wish I had not been so open on the night we filled out my slave contract.  Mistress laughs at how quickly I get intoxicated and she tells me I would be a cheap fuck.  

“It was something I could do in my room, late at night, without letting my parents know.”

“But why did you do it?”

I shrug a little, and feel tears well in my eyes.  “Because I didn't work hard enough, and I wasn't brave enough.  I thought I could punish myself and maybe that would make me work, but it didn't.  All it did was relieve some of the guilt I felt about being so worthless.”

“You're not worthless Kylie, you just have different needs to ordinary people.”

Mistress gets up and heads to her bedroom.  I gather up her work clothes and place them in the laundry basket, except for her panties.  The panties replace the set in my slave bucket.  After tidying the bathroom I get dressed and follow Mistress to the bedroom.  The potent air conditioning batters the light material of my harem slave costume.  Mistress sits in front of her computer.  She is wearing comfortable around the house clothes.

Mistress is busy checking her email and is about to begin checking the numerous websites, blogs and forums she tracks.  I know she doesn't like to be disturbed while doing this.  When my entry seems to go unnoticed, I kneel down beside Mistress' chair and strike a sexy subservient pose. 

“What do you want, my little whore?”  Mistress asks when she finally notices me.

Does she have to ask? 

“Mistress... I...”  How do I ask another woman if she would like to have sex with me?

“Oh you want to come is that it?”

“Yes Mistress.”  It’s been two days since I last came.  I have been a chronic masturbator for some time, and a two day dry spell would be uncommon enough, but coupled with my highly sexualized situation, and it seems unthinkable. 

“Well you cannot.  I have a special evening planned and you will just have to wait.  If you would like, you can masturbate on my bed, but if you come you will earn yourself a hard caning. 

When Mistress says a hard caning, it is understood to mean a caning that I will not enjoy.  As I suspected, a light working over with a cane, coupled with much stroking and teasing, is very exciting.  A thorough welt raising beating is admittedly almost as exciting, but the pain is not worth it.

I crawl onto the bed and begin rolling my breasts and stroking my pussy.  If I can't cum, playing with myself is just going to frustrate me more, but it is still a nice distraction.  I have heard my owners talking about when they intend to pop my cherry.  Apparently, Mistress wants the honor for herself and I have been told to expect a long hard fuck just as soon as she purchases a strap on.  I sink fingers into my slit as I think about getting torn open by a plastic cock.  Being fucked thusly by another woman just seems so scandalous.

I lay on the soft bed for more than an hour, playing with myself and keeping my body in a state of desperate need.  Distracted by her online activities, Mistress is nonetheless amused by my shameful antics.  I am riding the cradle of Mistress' large L shaped pillow, rutting my moist gash back and forth across the lace edge-work like a bitch in heat.   My arms wrap around one end of the pillow and I embrace it like a lover.

“No welcome for me today?”  Michael asks as he strokes the small of my back.  The unexpected sensation forces me to press harder against the pillow. 

“I'm sorry.”  I apologize breathlessly.  “I didn't notice the time.”

“You're busy.  No don't get up.  Keep fucking that pillow.”  Michael says as he searches through the bag he carries.  I hope I haven't missed an opportunity to suck his cock. 

“You brought it?”  Lisa asks him.

“Yes.”  

I look around to see what they are talking about.  I must look a sight with my face and breasts flushed rosy pink and my breathing heavy.

“Come with my Kylie.”  Mistress commands.  She stands and holds a hand out towards me. 

“Yes Mistress.”

I take her hand and she helps me rise from the bed.  She leads me from the bedroom to the bathroom.   I wonder what's in store for me now.

“We need to get you ready.”

“Mistress?  Ready for what?”

“Kneel down in front of the toilet.”

Surely she can't want to pee in my mouth again?  I can still feel her piss sloshing around inside me. 

Lisa walks over to the bathroom sink and begins unpacking items from a dusty makeup kit hiding in the overhead cabinet.  She sets the items down about me, and then sits on the toilet.  Mistress instructs me to finger myself while she applies my makeup.  She also orders me to hold still.  I struggle to comply with both demands.  The fingers on my left hand slide between my engorged sex lips, while I tweak my nipples, hard, with my right hand.  Immediately it becomes apparent to me that Mistress intends to do a thorough job.  I have never used much makeup before, but Lisa seems quite proficient.  My knees hurt from kneeling on the tiles long before we finish. 

When finally we leave the bathroom, I find Master sitting down on the couch with the remote in one hand.  By his other hand rests a slim black camcorder, and he is completely naked.  He looks up from the television as we enter the room.  I notice how his hands slide towards his crotch and try to hide his nakedness.  His eyes widen as he studies his freshly pimped slave girl.

Mistress tweezed my eyebrows, darkened my eyelashes and applied a generous cover of mascara.  Flicking my tongue gently across the top of my lower lip, I can taste the new red lipstick. I turn my hand over and look down at my nails.  Mistress decided to paint them, and my toenails, black.  Coupled with the eye shadow, my choker and my naturally pale skin, it gives me a distinctly gothic look.

Master looks me up and down appraisingly.  I can tell he approves, and his subconscious efforts to hide his nakedness become even feebler. 

“I like what you have done with her.”

“Thank you.”  Mistress smiles and places a kiss on my cheek.  “I'm thinking of keeping her this way.  I think it suits her pouty bitch nature.” 

I have been attracted to the Goth look (in girls only) for some time now.  My mother would never have let me out of the house dresses like this (well certainly not naked!), and I never experimented behind her back.

“Are you pleased with your new look, whore?”  Mistress asks me. 

“Yes Mistress.”

“Very good pet.”  She gives me a short sharp smack on my puffy sex.

I look nervously at the camera resting on the couch.  “Mistress?  What are we doing?”

“You are going to give your Master a nice sloppy blowjob,” Lisa picks up the camcorder and flicks the view screen open.  “and I will record your efforts.”

The reality of the camera makes me hook my fingers together in front of my exposed pussy.  “Mistress, I don't think I can do this.”

“You said you were comfortable with this when we talked.”

I didn't remember much of that night, so I was in no position to correct her.  Honestly the idea of being filmed giving a blowjob is exciting, but think of all the people who may one day see it.

“Lisa, I don't think...”

A vicious slap silences me. 

“That's right bitch.  You don't think.  You suck cocks and lick cunts.  I know you are up for this, and I don't have time for the shy act.  Get on your knees and start sucking cock now or I will cane your sexy ass blue.”

Her encouragement is enough to get me on my knees between my Master's legs. 

“Mistress, shouldn't I wear a mask, or something?”  I look up at her hopefully.

“I want people to see you, pet.  We intend to post all your videos on the Internet.”

ALL my videos?  “But Mistress, our friends could see me like this.” 

Lisa laughs out loud.  “Oh Kylie, you are such an idiot.  We have already sent pictures of you to pretty much everyone we know.  All of our friends know about your new living arrangements.   The guys have been bugging us to make a video for a week now.”

Was she telling the truth?  Of course she was; she had no reason to lie.  How could I ever face my friends again?  They consider Michael and Lisa pretty low on the social totem pole, so where did that leave me?  On my knees I guess.

“What do you want me to do?”  I ask; resigned to lie in the bed I have made.

“You have watched enough pornstars give head.  I want you to tease his cock for awhile, show off some of your tricks and then suck down a yummy load of slut milk.”

The camera begins running.  I try to block it out.  I place my hands on Master's thighs and bring my red lips down to the tip of his cock.  I’ve never done this with lipstick on, it’s different.  With my lips touching the fat cock head, I circle my tongue around it.  I roll down his foreskin further, and work my tongue around the delicate purple ridge.  It would have been better (for me) if he had washed his penis before we started.  I have no right to complain.  Mistress has gone to a lot of effort and I must do my best.

I ration out the time I can spend on each step, taking the best estimate of how long Master can hold his load.  Like a dance I begin stringing together individual steps, all leading towards a very literal climax.    I stiffen my tongue and stroke the cock up and down it, pleasuring its underside and the little notch. 

When I feel Michael is too far along, I leave his pink bud alone and lick my way down the shaft of his rod.  I plant little lipstick kisses on his shaft before tonguing his sweaty shaven scrotum.  The camera is right in my face as I take one of his balls into my mouth and suck on it.  Anyone who sees this will understand what a whore I am. 

When I return to working on the tip of the penis, I purse my lips together and use the thick member to fuck my mouth.  I press my head onto the cock until it parts my lips, then I draw back.  My lips are forced wide to accommodate my Master's ample dick. 

I am forced to skip a few more tricks lest Michael come before I demonstrate my deepthoating.   I press his meat against the back of my mouth and compose myself.  I will not choke.  I can do this.  Slowly at first, I press my head down.  I let the beast slip into my wind pipe and force more of it inside me.  Like magic, inch after inch of the cock disappears into my little mouth.  My lung capacity has never been great, asthma as a child maybe.  I pull the cock from my mouth, and ignore the slobber I leak onto my breasts.  My success drives me on, and I continue to deep throat my Master's cock.

Finally, I hear the signs of an oncoming orgasm and go to pull the prick from my throat.  My Master has over ideas.  He takes hold of the back of my skull and holds me.  He even manages to pull me further down his shaft.  I have enough air, but the fear begins to cause a panic within me.  Despite my feeble struggles, he will not be denied this.  His cum fills my throat and at last I gag.  

By time I pull my head free, my eyes are streaming tears.  I suck down the cum blocking my airways.  Small splutters of spit and cum fly from my mouth.  My panic fades and I rest my head on my Master’s thigh.  Mistress pats me gently on the head.  I rest while she shows Master the quality of the video.

“Ok whore, it’s my turn now.”

I look up and see my Mistress lounging sideway on the couch.  Her legs are spread wide, exposing her wet pussy.  She was clearly excited, and the look on her face was one of absolute, unmitigated victory.  She thinks she has caught me, and that she has me right where she wants me.  If it makes her happy, I won’t spoil it for her, but as I breathe in the strong smelling cum staining my lips, I know I am right where I want to be.