Puppet on a Rope
by Jennifer Harrison
Part 4
Part 4 - DinnerMy life had completely changed. And yet, for the next few days, it all seemed exactly the same. My friend Bethany, the one I had slept with – I was going to say by accident, but it was actually by design, just not my design – had behaved entirely normally, neither being all over me or off with me. it was as if ‘that night’ had never occurred.
And then there was the ‘puppet master’. After abducting, flogging and raping me, before leaving me naked and cuffed to make my own way home, nothing. Not a word! Had he had enough of me, was I just a one-night stand? Surely not, not after spending so long getting to this point, there was so much more he could do to me… I mean, we could do together, as a couple. Obviously…
I checked every night on Skype, on e-mail, on the chat rooms we had frequented, but he was nowhere. He had disappeared, and I felt hurt and distraught, like the first time I’d been dumped as a vulnerable twelve-year-old, by my best friend, just because she wore a training bra and I didn’t!
By the next Friday, I was miserable and feeling sorry for myself, when the computer trilled its siren call. It was him! I dashed across the room, desperate to answer it.
“Good evening, Kelly,” his firm voice intoned, “how have you been?”
“Very well, Sir,” I said meekly, “I… I missed speaking to you.”
“Yes, I’ve been away on business,” he replied briskly, “but I have some time for you this weekend. Are you free?” Free? I didn’t care, I would be free for him! I eagerly nodded into the camera.
“Excellent, I’ll see you at the meeting point in the mall at four tomorrow.” The connection ended and I clenched my fist in triumph. While I had suffered fear, terror and pain on our first meeting I had also experienced excitement, ecstasy, and a huge rush of adrenalin. Now, I was looking forward to our second meeting with both trepidation and anticipation. I was distracted from my celebrations by a knock on the door.
“You. My room. Now!” It was Bethany, beckoning me with a crooked finger, a wicked smile on her face.
“Ooh, what’s up?” I asked, a little surprised.
“It’s payback time!” With a broad smile, I closed my door and walked down the corridor with my friend. From thinking everyone had rejected me, I suddenly felt wanted, desired, and it was wonderful!
I was barely in her room when my best friend pinned me against the wall, her lips crushing mine and her hands all over me, squeezing and fondling my breasts, then moving down, rubbing me between my legs. She quickly yanked my top over my head, breaking our kiss for no more than a few seconds, and moments later my leggings were being roughly pulled down my thighs. I kicked off my shoes and, voila, was naked.
I was surprised by Beth’s forceful, almost desperate, advances, but her excitement and passion instantly had me aflame as well, which was curious, given my previous lack of interest in, even lack of awareness of, Sapphic sex. It was the strength of her passion, her arousal, which turned me on massively.
“Get on the bed, slut,” Beth growled, pushing me across the room.
“Yes, boss,” I said with a smile as I lay down and looked up at her expectantly.
“Call me Mistress, slut,” she said sternly as she stripped out of her own clothes, “you need to show me some respect!” I felt a knot form in my stomach as her commanding, peremptory tone aroused me. But, also, I noted the echo of the words the puppet master had used to me – she was taking control of me, just as he had done!
“Yes… Mistress,” I breathed, my voice almost gravelly with arousal. She climbed onto the bed, straddling me, and raised my arms above my head, just as she had the first time. But now I felt something going around my wrists, and I looked up to see her slipping a noose over my hands and tightening it.
“Beth? What’s going on?” I asked, my voice quavering a little, not with fear, but excitement.
“Shut up, cunt,” she responded, her voice harsh and angry. I looked at her with concern, but the expression I saw on her face could only be described as unalloyed lust – her eyes wide and glistening, her cheeks flushed, her nostrils flared, her lips pulled thin in a determined grimace. I found it such a turn-on, that my scrawny body could imbue such passions in anyone, let alone someone, I suddenly realised, that I loved so much – that thought came as another bolt from the blue, just stoking my arousal even further. I loved my best friend! And I wanted to please her so much!
Having scooted down the bed, she grabbed my ankles and pulled me towards her, making the rope between my wrists and the headboard taut, tightening the noose until the rope bit harshly into my skin. I let out an involuntary yelp, but Bethany ignored me, pulling my leg to one side and slipping another pre-prepared noose around the ankle. When she repeated this on my other leg, I was splayed wide on her double bed, panting in anticipation.
She crawled on all fours up the bed, pausing to work two fingers into my already-moist cunt, her thumb working its way between my lips and rubbing my clit. As I started to moan, she reached up and clamped her spare hand over my open mouth, continuing to drive me wild with the other. Desperately, I pulled on the ropes holding me down, not to get free but to expel some of the sexual energy building within me. My only reward was the feel of the coarse hemp tearing at my wrists and ankles, a reward which I adored and sought to increase with more urgent struggles.
“Suck on that, bitch,” Bethany growled as she thrust her dripping fingers into my mouth, and I eagerly complied, licking and sucking my juices from her as if they were the finest gourmet delight.
“You disgust me, you filthy whore,” she whispered in my ear, “I bet you’re gagging to lick my cunt, aren’t you?”
“Oh God yes, Mistress!” I moaned, totally turned on by her abusive ‘trash talk’. Moments later, she was sitting on my face, her thighs either side of my head as her hot, wet pussy clamped itself over my mouth.
I tried to emulate what she had done to me, using my lips and tongue on both her stiff bud and in her sopping hole. With my hands bound, I felt somewhat handicapped, but I did my best as she ground her hips against my face, clearly revelling in her total domination of me. As did I, enjoying every second of this ‘forced’ cunnilingus.
It took me an age to bring her off, but eventually I got her there.
“Yes! Yes! Oh God, yes!” she cried urgently, riding me like a jockey approaching the finish line. By that point, I was just sticking out my tongue and letting her bounce up and down on it like a small, pink dildo, until she finally let out a howl that I was sure the whole corridor heard, and released a flood of juices into my face. I lapped them up greedily, wondering if I produced this much gunk when I came. I think not!
She fell onto the bed beside me and, after a few minutes recovery, I saw her pick up her panties and use them to clean the slickness from her pussy and down the inside of her thighs.
“That was pretty fucking good for a beginner,” she smiled, now wiping the excess juice from my lips and chin. As I opened my mouth to reply, she quickly thrust the sodden garment deep inside, stifling my surprised protests. She reached over to her bedside cabinet and took out a nylon stocking, which she tied across my mouth to complete the gag.
“Let’s do a little experiment.” I had no idea what she meant by this, but I was worried.
She moved back to sitting on my hips so that she could play with my breasts, fondling them before leaning forward and sucking on my nipples, bringing them almost painfully erect. Now she took them in her fingers, squeezing and pulling until my breasts were lifted and stretched out. I wailed into my gag as she continued to tweak and crush my nipples, twisting them until tears came to my eyes.
“Is that painful, honey?” Bethany asked with apparent concern. I nodded earnestly.
“Do you want me to stop?” I nodded again, a pleading look in my eyes, wondering what kind of experiment this was.
She reached over to her cabinet again and, this time, returned holding the most enormous vibrator I had ever seen. Made of black rubber, it looked like a cock - rolled-back foreskin, bulbous head, thick veins – but longer and thicker than any cock I’d ever seen. It also had a tickler at the front, designed to stimulate the clitoris and, extending from the other side, what I realised must be an anal probe. All in all, the thing scared the hell out of me!
Ignoring my head-shaking and urgent mumbling into the gag, Bethany put it to her mouth and dribbled saliva from her lips along its length, rubbing it with her slender fingers into a slick, shiny coating. I watched with mounting alarm as she brought it down between my thighs and began to work it into me. I moaned as she pushed it deeper, stretching me wide, impaling me on this monster until it was entirely inserted, filling me more than I had ever been before. The tickler burrowed itself between my labia and pressed down firmly on my clitoris, threatening to squash it. and to complete my violation, my friend steered the anal probe against my sphincter and forced it in, bringing a squeal of protest from me.
As I squirmed my hips, trying in vain to make this situation slightly less uncomfortable, Beth went across the room and returned with a bag, from which she took two clothes pegs. She reached down and turned on the vibrator, which started to not only vibrate but to gyrate inside me. The effect was instantly dramatic, stimulating me in ways I hadn’t experienced before, the anal probe sending the most unusual sensations through me while my clit and vagina were both being massaged incredibly vigorously. I was in heaven, and rapidly heading for nirvana!
My focus was brought abruptly back to earth by a biting pain in my left nipple. I looked down and saw one of the pegs hanging off it, its plastic jaws crushing the sensitive flesh, making me give a stifled cry. A moment later, my right nipple was suffering as well, the pain like a wasp sting, but on your most sensitive place. I tried to shake them off, but very quickly abandoned that as a stupid idea. I looked pleadingly at Beth for mercy, but she seemed to be enjoying herself.
“Do you want me to stop now?” she smiled, her hand by the end of the vibrator, ready to switch it off. I finally understood her ‘experiment’ – would I endure the pain to receive the pleasure? What a cruel so-called friend! Screwing my face up against the growing discomfort, I hesitantly shook my head.
Each peg seemed to stall my burgeoning arousal as it was applied. Soon I had a row of five pegs in a line across each breast, making them feel as if they were on fire. Bethany started applying them across my stomach, pinching up a fold of skin and then clipping on a peg to hold it and torture it. I soon had two lines, each starting just below a breast and marching down towards my pussy.
“Just three pegs left now, honey. Do you want me to stop?” she taunted, knowing how close I was, how much I needed the release of tension and pent-up energy which the vibrator would shortly bring. I knew things were about to get much worse, but I couldn’t let her deprive me now, not now. I closed my eyes and shook my head urgently, desperate for the final crescendo.
I cried out as I felt first one, then the other, lip of my cunt pegged, leaving just one more to be closed. I knew where it was going, she knew where it was going, even my cunt seemed to know where it was going as I hovered tantalisingly on the edge of orgasm. As I felt the spring-loaded jaws closing around my clitoris, pressing, squeezing, the pain level rising, rising, becoming unbearable… I screamed in agony, and ecstasy, the climax ripping through me as she released the peg and left me thrashing desperately in my bonds, cumming hard, so hard that I thought I was about to lose consciousness.
I was still spasming through the final throes of my orgasm when I felt the pressure being relieved, the pegs coming off, the ropes being untied, the gag coming out…
“It’s okay, baby, it’s all over,” Bethany cooed soothingly in my ear as she held me close, “calm down, honey, you’re safe now, no more, no more…” As her hand stroked my hair and her words calmed me, I drifted off to sleep…
###################
When I awoke the next morning, the pegs were gone, the vibrator was gone, the ropes were gone and the gag was gone. But the memories remained, not only in my head, but in my body, like muscle memory, the feelings, the echoes of the pain and the pleasure. And I could feel a warm, soft body next to me. I was content, blissfully so.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Bethany purred in my ear as she nibbled on it.
“I think you may be overpaying,” I joked, “I’m trying to work out what the hell is going on with me. Am I a bondage freak? Am I a pain slut? Am I gay? Am I Bi? I just don’t know.”
“You say it like those are bad things,” she chided, “anyway, who cares? If you enjoy it, just do it!”
“If you say so,” I smiled, turning to her and pressing my lips against hers, feeling her immediately respond. The kiss lasted a long time, and was soon accompanied by groping hands and exploring fingers, on both sides.
“What are your plans for the day? We could… do something.”
“I have to meet… him,” I said with a blush.
“Ah, the mystery man!” Beth said mockingly, “that’s a shame, I thought we could spend the day, doing… stuff.” She rolled on top of me and smooched me aggressively. It was a long smooch. In fact, I only managed to escape about three in the afternoon, and we did a lot of ‘stuff’ in that time.
So I was rushed and a bit flustered by the time I got to the mall. He was waiting for me, looking very relaxed. I thought he looked very attractive, if you like the older man – I hadn’t before, but I was coming around to the idea.
“Hello, Kelly, you look a little nervous, are you okay?”
“It’s the effect you have on me, Sir,” I confessed, “I’m wondering what you’re planning to do to me today.”
“Don’t worry, little puppet,” he smiled, “we’re just going to do a little shopping and then go to dinner. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, Sir, that sounds… wonderful.” Oh, how naďve of me to think it would be that simple!
He took me first into a very upmarket dress shop, one I’d never set foot in because I knew I couldn’t afford anything in there. When we went in, rather than looking at the clothes, he hustled me directly to the changing rooms.
“Go into the cubicle and take off your clothes,” he ordered, “then hand them out to me. I’ll find you something to try on.” I looked at him in astonishment, but his face was impassive, and eventually I obeyed. I pulled the curtain across the front of the cubicle and stripped out of my top, leggings and shoes. I held them out around the edge of the curtain and felt them snatched away, leaving me staring at the grey material in front of me, feeling terribly vulnerable.
As I kept looking at my watch nervously, I heard other customers come and go, and he still didn’t appear. At last, after twenty minutes, the curtain was drawn back, but instead of him, I found myself faced by a surprised young shop assistant, staring at me as I tried to hide my nakedness. She wordlessly handed me a dress and pair of shoes, before quickly closing the curtain again.
The dress was black, shiny, stretchy, and I realised it was latex – basically fetish clothing, not quite what I was expecting or hoping for. But it was clear this was what he expected me to wear and, with no other option, I squeezed into it. it wasn’t easy – I’m not fat by any standards, but the material was so tight, I struggled to get the dress on. It clung to me like a second skin, showing the contours of my body underneath – my nipples stood out, the slight swell of my stomach was obvious, even my belly button could be seen. It moulded itself around the cheeks of my bum, and the hem came only an inch or so below my pussy, no matter how hard I pulled it down. The dress had a halter neck which left me with a bare back and a deep, plunging neckline.
I checked myself out in the mirror and I have to say I was impressed. You could probably have put that dress on a sack of potatoes and it would look good, but I looked really sexy! I checked out the shoes and found that they were also what you’d probably describe as fetishwear – two-inch platforms and six-inch stiletto heels, with lots of straps. I had to sit to put them on, and when I glanced up at the mirror, I realised that if I did this without a great deal of care, anyone in front of me would be able to see straight up the virtually non-existent skirt, getting an eyeful of my bare pussy – I would have to be careful if I ever wore this in public!
I pulled back the curtain and looked around for ‘Sir’ – I really had to find out his name! – so that I could show him how I looked, and to get my street clothes back. I found him out in the main part of the shop, which led to some embarrassment as I found myself being stared at, examined, probably judged, by the half-a-dozen shop assistants and customers.
“Very nice,” he said appreciatively, “we’ll take it. Could you cut out the labels, please.” The older woman, probably the manageress, approached me with an icy smile and a pair of scissors to remove the price tags.
“I can’t wear this out there!” I hissed as he handed over a credit card, “it’s… rude, Sir!”
He ignored me and, once the transaction was complete, walked out of the shop without a backward glance. I hesitated – although it was late afternoon, the mall was still busy with young and old, couples and families, groups of teenage boys and girls – knowing that I would immediately be the centre of attention. But, again, I really had no choice, and I would already have to hurry to catch up with him as he strode away. I felt ridiculous as I skittered along, heels clicking on the polished tiles, flushing bright red as I felt heads turning and eyes swivelling. I pulled repeatedly at the hem of the skirt, convinced it was riding up to expose my bare buttocks. But that was probably the saving grace of the latex – it was so tight on me that it stayed where it was put. It might be tantalisingly short, but as long as I didn’t sit or bend, it would remain that, just a tease.
“Do you like this one?” I’d noticed that we’d entered another shop, if only because I was feeling relieved that I could now hide behind the shelves, but I hadn’t really paid attention enough to see what kind of a shop it was. Now, he was holding up something pink, with sparkly coloured glass beads inlaid into it. I looked around and realised we were in a large pet store, and that he was holding a dog collar.
“I… don’t understand, Sir,” I said, confused, “why does it matter what I think?” Why did I care what he bought for his dog?
“Because you’re going to be wearing it from now on.” I looked at him in horror, but there was no laughter in his face. This was not a joke.
“What?” I exclaimed, unbelieving, “I can’t wear that!”
“No, you’re probably right,” he nodded, putting it back, “too garish. How about this one?” He picked up another collar, this one thick and black, with shiny metal studs.
“Please, Sir,” I whined, “don’t make me! it’s… too humiliating!” I was, once again, ignored as he strode towards the checkout, with me trailing miserably behind him. I hoped I would be able to talk him out of making me wear it, or maybe just behind closed doors, or only when we were alone…
“Thank you,” he said to the cashier, before turning to me, “there you are, darling.” He handed me the collar, and the implication was obvious – put it on now, or else. I looked at him in silent pleading, but he just looked back at me and waited. Feeling a little sick, I unbuckled the leather strap and placed it around my neck. I saw the eyebrows of the guy behind the counter shoot up and a smile come to his face as he watched me fasten the dog collar.
“It looks lovely,” Sir said, taking my arm and leading me back out into the mall. “You’re doing very well, puppet, just one more stop before we go to dinner.” Oh Lord, I thought, what now?! This whole thing was a nightmare, everything designed just to embarrass and humiliate me!
I was still being distracted by the knowledge that people were staring at me, and by the time I realised that he was taking me to a hairdresser, we were already inside. It was a large and busy place, four chairs, all occupied, with a couple of customers waiting, a buzzy atmosphere of conversation and background music. I took a seat nervously, while he went over to a woman who looked like the manageress and started chatting, looking over at me occasionally.
Oh God, what did he have planned for me now? I had been growing my hair long since I was a kid, my mum had always told me what beautiful hair I had, virtually forbidding me from getting it bobbed, only allowing a regular trim to remove split ends. Now, he was going to get them to do something awful, just to prove to me that he was in charge, in control. They came over to where I was sitting.
“Kelly, this Sheena,” he said, the woman smiling at me. I forced myself to smile back. “I was just describing how I’d like your hair, and she wanted to check you were okay with it. Could you set her mind at rest?” I felt sick in my stomach – she was obviously not comfortable with what he’d suggested, and now I had to tell her that whatever he said went. I had to admit my subjugation.
“I… I’m happy with whatever you decide… Sir,” I stammered, trying to give her a re-assuring look. The woman didn’t look convinced, staring at the collar around my neck..
“Well, if you’re sure, dear,” she said doubtfully, “we’ll be with you shortly. Just let me know if you change your mind.” This last was said sotto voce as she leaned forward, a hand on my arm.
We waited in silence and, a few minutes later, I was in the chair and wrapped in a gown. Sheena was going to do the job herself and had a set of electric clippers as she approached me. I looked around at him, the puppet master, but he was reading a magazine, unconcerned, uninterested, confident I would not ‘cause a fuss’.
I hate short hair on a woman, in the same way and for the same reason as I hate a shaved pussy. It seems to be a denial of mature womanhood, an infantilism imposed either by the woman on herself or, as in my case, by the man on the woman. A power thing.
As I was thinking about this, resentful and angry, Sheena had moved in front of me, blocking my view in the mirror momentarily, and started to work. As she stepped away…
“Oh, fuck!” I gasped. This wasn’t going to be the boyish pixie cut I had been dreading. Instead, she had shaved a line across my head above my ear, exposing the scalp!
“Are you okay, dear?” she asked with genuine concern. My mouth was hanging open, my eyes glazed and shining, my mind numb.
“Y-yes, it’s… fine,” I managed eventually. I watched in horror as, over the next ten minutes, I was sheared like a fucking sheep! When she had finished, Sheena held up a mirror behind me, showing me the extent of my baldness. I had no hair anywhere on my head, just a light ginger stubble across my scalp. Oh. My. God!! I looked like a convict!
I staggered back out into the mall, shell-shocked, reeling from what had just happened.
“Why so glum, little puppet?” my tormentor asked, cupping my chin and lifting my head, “you look wonderful! So sexy! Just as I had imagined you when I first saw your picture. I have transformed you into my own, submissive little sex kitten!”
I suddenly found myself assaulted by conflicting emotions. I was horrified that he had manipulated me to the point that even my appearance was dictated by him. But at the same time, I found his obsession with me, verging on the unhealthy, even perverse, to be exhilarating – the idea that anyone could want me this much was an incredible ego boost. Okay, it was a different version of me, one I’d never imagined, but it was intoxicating to be so wanted. What was I going to do? What should I do? What could I do? At the moment all I could do was follow where he led.
As he hailed a taxi and opened the door for me, I realised my immediate problem was to get in the cab without flashing the driver, not an easy task. I think I managed it, but I still saw him staring at me in the rear-view mirror, making me blush and hide my face.
We arrived at the restaurant, a place called Discretion, and I could immediately see it was an expensive place with rich clientele. Was he rich, I wondered? When we went in, it was clear he was a known and respected customer, so I guessed he probably was rich. We were shown to a private room – I had no idea restaurants even had such things! – which just contained our table for two.
“When my dinner guest arrives, show them through, would you?” The maitre d’ nodded and left, closing the door.
“Your dinner guest, Sir?” I asked, confused, “I thought I was your dinner guest?”
“You’re my puppet, Kelly,” he said with a smile, stroking my cheek, “you’re here for my entertainment, my pleasure, rather than for engaging conversation.” My eyes widened as he took a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and reached for my hand.
“What are you doing, Sir?!” I gasped, not believing what was going on. He closed one of the bracelets around my wrist.
“Preparing you,” he said, turning me around and locking my wrists together behind me. “Now, kneel down by my chair, like a good girl.” Rather stunned, I went down on my knees by the chair he was near.
“Open your knees. Wider.” He pushed my legs apart with his foot until my thighs were spread wide and I was panicking that the hem of my dress would ride up and expose me completely. Luckily, the latex stretched but remained in place – just.
I was in turmoil. What was going on? Who was coming here? What did he want from me? I heard the door opening, I saw who was walking in, and I was horrified.
“Ah, Bethany, so glad you could come,” he said as he rose to embrace my best friend.
“It’s good to meet you at last,” Beth replied as they exchanged kisses on either cheek, “Kelly's told me so much about you – NOT!” They both laughed at that, before he sat back down, and Bethany turned to look down at me. There was no surprise, no concern on her face. She was smiling!
“Kelly! You look incredible!” she gushed, “I love the hair!”
“It does look good,” Sir chipped in, “thanks for suggesting it.” What?! This was Beth’s idea?!
“Beth? What’s going on?!” I demanded, my voice rising, “how could you? You know how much l-“
“Be quiet!” he barked, the anger on his face frightening me into silence. “Speak when you’re spoken to, otherwise shut up! We don’t need to hear from you!” I felt hurt by his stinging words, dripping with contempt. It was all just a fresh humiliation, especially in front of my friend. I looked to her for some inkling of support, but saw none - it seemed that she was fully signed up to the idea of me being treated this way.
I watched silently as they ordered, blushing furiously when the waiter came in and, quickly and unobtrusively, ran his eyes over my body.
"So," Bethany said, placing her elbows on the table and leaning forward eagerly, "tell me all about yourself. I'm thoroughly intrigued to know your background, what you do, and how you managed to snare my friend Kelly here." I was uncomfortable with just how comfortable she was with the situation, but she had asked the right questions - I wanted to know all those things as well, starting with his name! I turned to him in eager anticipation.
"No problem," he responded affably, "but let me sort something out first." He reached into his pocket and took out what looked like an iPod with earphones. He leaned towards me and pushed the buds firmly into my ears, slipping the player into my cleavage.
"This will keep you entertained, puppet," he smiled, "while the grown-ups talk." He flicked the switch and thumping bass music was pounding in my ears. I could hear nothing! All I could do was watch impotently as they resumed their conversation. Bastard! I would learn nothing about him, while my best friend would know everything! It was so unfair!
The first course was served and Bethany and the puppet master began their meal, completely ignoring me. I felt like I was the pet dog, staring up longingly, and hungrily, from my place on the floor. I looked from one to the other, noting their smiles as their lips moved in conversation, but I heard nothing. I felt utterly demeaned by my exclusion, treated as if I was sub-human or something.
Bethany lifted a forkful of her salad and, unbelievably, held it out to me, beckoning me towards her encouragingly. I looked at him, as if for direction, and he motioned with his head for me to go ahead. I didn't want to accept this offering, realising just how humiliating this treatment was, but I was afraid to anger him by being defiant, and also I was pretty hungry, having eaten only a slice of toast all day. So, reluctantly, I shuffled forwards on my knees and then leaned forward to take the fork in my mouth. The food tasted good, although there was a metaphorical bitterness to it. Bethany loaded her fork again, and I took it more quickly this time. She held her glass of water for me, and I gratefully drank, realising how thirsty I was. There was a bit of bread next, and then she leaned back in her chair, indicating that this part of my ‘meal’ was complete. Feeling desperately ashamed of myself at what I had just done, I moved back to my original position.
When the main course arrived, I saw that they were both having steak, and I felt my mouth watering. When the puppet master offered me a morsel of the succulent meat, I didn't hesitate, enjoying the flavour as the food almost melted in my mouth. They both fed me several times, and I quickly lost my inhibitions about being fed like a dog. Even when the waiter came in to top up their wine glasses, I didn't refuse the offered fork, though I was sure it was only being done to embarrass me further. My face was burning, but my stomach wouldn't be denied!
When the meal was finally over, he took the earphones and music away, enabling me to hear what he had to say.
"Bethany and I have been discussing what to do with you, puppet," he said, "I travel a lot on business, both here and abroad, and I can't really give you the attention you deserve. So I have proposed, and Bethany has agreed, that she will act on my behalf in controlling you. From now on, you will obey her as you would me. Remember the consequences if you disobey, they will be the same, whichever of us you disrespect. To make the relationships a little clearer, from now on you will call me ‘Master’ and her ‘Mistress’. Do you understand?"
I looked at him, and then at her, in disbelief. She was my best friend! How could she do this to me? He was turning me into some kind of slave, and she was not only going along with it but, from the look of glee on her face, revelling in it. I was in trouble - a lot of trouble.
"Yes, Master," I said sullenly, knowing I was defeated. "Yes… Mistress."
End of part 4
Copyright© 2014 by Jennifer Harrison. All rights reserved.