by Emily Tilton
Sally made up her mind that she would ignore the pain. She opened her eyes and tried again to part the two sides of the webbing. She located the tab that would let her pull the Velcro open, and then another shock stung her neck, much stronger. She cried out, and stumbled toward the enormous man in the suit, who caught her easily and held her in place, turning her to face Judy and then letting her go to stand in front of him, terribly conscious of his looming height behind her.
“Put your hands down, Sally,” Judy commanded. The pain at her throat continued, intensified. With a sob, Sally obeyed, dropping her hands, and instantly the pain went away.
She realized then that at some subconscious level she had come here—that she had responded, from the moment Master Eric, whoever he might be, had given her his first shameful command—on the assumption that these people would never consider harming her. Sally didn’t think that idea had anything to do with some narcissistic conception of her value to the world; rather, the whole thing had obviously come about because they needed her to do something for them.
For a moment, when the collar had given her the first shock, she had wondered whether in fact they might, on the contrary, feel no compunction about hurting the governor of Madison or even killing her. That in turn had brought on the present realization—that she hadn’t thought for an instant of the frightening possibility, and why.
As soon as the idea occurred to her however, she also understood that the shock this horrible collar delivered actually did her no harm whatsoever. It didn’t even hurt very much. The sensation at the base of her throat simply made her so terribly uncomfortable that she wanted it to stop, and she couldn’t imagine even letting it go on for as long as it took to unfasten the Velcro, if she could make it cease by obeying Judy.
Judy? Or...
Judy hadn’t shocked her the first time, Sally thought, because it had happened at almost the same time the older woman had let go of her hands. The big, dark-haired man hadn’t done it either, she felt certain, because he had just put the collar on her and had his hands out in front of him.
Was it Master Eric? Watching from somewhere? A shudder went through Sally’s whole body.
“It’s time to take off that expensive suit, Sally Donaldson,” Judy said. “You’re not going to be wearing pants from now on, either. Once you get back to your mansion you’ll put on a pretty skirt for your master. Whether you get to wear panties under it is another question, but your behavior so far makes me think probably not. Panties are for good girls.”
Sally closed her eyes again, her fists clenching and unclenching. She had never realized how much she hated the word panties until this moment. A girl—a young woman—shouldn’t have to call such an essential garment by such an embarrassing name.
“Did you hear me, Sally?” Judy asked.
The device on Sally’s collar shocked her again, at the first, mild level. Sally whimpered, hearing the puppy-like sound as if she stood a foot away, observing and listening to, yes, a puppy being trained by her master.
“Yes!” she cried.
“Open your eyes, girl,” Judy said. “And you will call me ma’am.”
Sally obeyed, as far as her eyes were concerned, but she also said, “What?”
Her collar activated again, with a more painful jolt than the last one, though still not at the level she had received the second time she had tried to take the collar off. Another pitiful little yelp came from her throat.
Then, immediately, she said, “Ma’am! Please... please, ma’am!”
“That’s better,” Judy said. “Now stop wasting my time and take off your clothes, Sally.”
Another shudder passed through Sally’s body. That involuntary gesture brought out a little moan with it, too, for she suddenly realized that inside the wretched panties that it seemed she would be punished for wearing she had gotten terribly, unaccountably warm. Every muscle in her frame seemed tuned to the electric frequency of the horrid collar, and to her dismay the thought of being shocked again—of the unseen master using some device to send another jolt of current to her throat—made her clench, down there.
Sally’s brow furrowed deeply in concentration as she tried desperately to press down her consciousness of her unwanted arousal—the same kind of wayward sexual need she had to her mortification felt the previous night on the rug in her office, obeying the voice at the other end of the phone, but much, much stronger. She looked at Judy’s black shoes, sensible flats for a professional aesthetician, and she started to shrug her jacket off.
The huge man behind her helped her with the jacket, but that unwelcome aid only made Sally realize that he still stood behind her—that he would see her undress. She raised her eyes to look at Judy, who gazed calmly back, arms folded across the chest of her white coat.
“I’ll do it, but...”
Sally’s voice trailed off as Judy raised a warning eyebrow. The young governor’s right hand went to her throat in a reflex learned very well indeed over merely the last two minutes.
“Ma’am! I... I’ll do it, ma’am, but...” She turned to look over her shoulder at the man in the suit. “Please... ma’am, please send him away?”
The look on Judy’s face sent the blood rushing to Sally’s cheeks. The blonde woman didn’t quite sneer, like a villain in a movie, but her mouth quirked and her eyebrows went up in an expression that Sally could read only as that of a maternal figure who has begun to lose her patience with a naughty girl’s protests.
“Vic is going to stay, Sally,” Judy said. “You need to get used to being naked in the presence of the men and women your master has decided should see you that way.”
Sally felt her face crumple as another little sob burst from her chest. “I don’t understand,” she wailed. “Why... why do I have...”
She had no idea how to finish the question, but to her surprise a sympathetic look had appeared in Judy’s eyes.
“Why do you have a master, now, Sally?” she said. “Is that what you’d like to ask?”
Sally nodded miserably. She found that she had brought her hands to her throat, to touch the hard plastic corners of the device her master had told them to put there, to help her learn not to misbehave. As soon as she became conscious of having her fingers there, she pulled her hands away, as if the thing had shocked them, though it had in fact remained quiescent now for a while.
The compassionate expression on Judy’s face grew even softer, and her mouth curved into a slight smile.
“It’s hard, I know. You may touch your collar, as long as you don’t try to take it off. It’s important to remember that you have it on now, so that when we let you go, later today, with a different kind of device to ensure your obedience, you remember what the collar feels like.”
Sally’s eyes had gone wide. “What... what does that mean, ma’am? A... different...”
“You’ll see,” Judy said. “Go ahead and take off your blouse, now, and I’ll tell you more about why you have a master.”
Sally put her hands back on the collar for just a moment, as if—the thought made her wonder if she had begun to lose her mind—she wanted to see if Master Eric, wherever he might be, would punish her for touching it rather than obeying Judy immediately.
A shock did come, just a little one, not to her fingers of course but to her throat, so that she yelped and, quivering like a leaf, moved her hands to the back of her neck to undo the pearl button there. She stared again at Judy’s shoes as she began to raise the blouse over her head. Every exhalation came with a little whimper now—more noises like those of a puppy learning to please her trainer.
“Good girl,” Judy said, as if she could read Sally’s mind. “That’s a very unattractive bra, though.”
Sally felt her face burn as she pulled the blouse all the way off and Vic plucked it from her grasp. Her bra was functional: black nylon, a bralette really rather than a bra since Sally had so little to support. She looked down at it, her forehead creasing, and then back up at Judy, to find tha
t the hard, judging expression had returned.
“You have a master, Sally,” she said in a voice that matched her face, “because you need a man to teach you about what a girl like you should wear, among other things. We’re going to send some lingerie home with you, and you’ll wear it when you’re told to.”
Sally pulled her lip between her teeth. She had her hands out in front of her tummy, and she saw them tremble as a humiliating wave of arousal washed through her body at the mortifying thought of lingerie. She hadn’t worn any underwear she would have called lingerie since the night Joe had taken the pictures.
“Take off your shoes and then your pants,” Judy said in a matter-of-fact tone of command.
What choice did she have? Sally gave another whimpering sob and kicked her shoes off, then, with eyes closed, reached for the zipper of her pants. The sound of the zipper being pulled down seemed much too loud in the silence—something about knowing that Judy and Vic watched her undressing so intently, at the command of a man she had to call master, did that.
Judy tsked, and Sally couldn’t help opening her eyes to see the blonde woman—as Sally had feared—looking right at her beige panties.
“I suppose for hygienic reasons,” Judy said, “your master will allow you to keep that sort of underwear, but you’re not going to be wearing it often from now on.”
Sally hung her head, as some part of her that had detached itself and begun to observe the scene as if from a distance snorted in disgust at the submissive response. She had her pants at mid-thigh, now, and she felt a terrible conflict between the urge to pull them up again, to cover the shame of her panties, and the need to strip them off, so that Master Eric wouldn’t shock her.
“You have a master, Sally Donaldson,” Judy said severely, “because a girl like you, a dirty girl who has naughty pictures taken of her, should learn to please a dominant man with her body, whether that means wearing a pretty bra and pretty panties or it means gratifying his hard cock when he decides to fuck you with it.”
“Oh, God,” Sally whispered, and now she couldn’t help it: she pulled up her pants and started trying to raise the zipper, even though she knew precisely what would happen next.
It happened: the sting at her neck, still not as bad as when she had tried to take the collar off, but enough to make her yelp. More important, she understood, it hurt enough to make her immediately reverse her action and pull her pants down, drop them, and step out of them.
“Sally,” Judy said, with what sounded like sadness in her tone. Sally had closed her eyes yet again, and now she opened them, blinking tears away and gazing at the older woman with what she knew must appear a very woeful face.
Judy shook her head. “Sally, you are learning, I can see, but your master wishes you to be a good girl for him, and if you can’t learn to obey me, you’re going to have a very difficult time this morning.”
Chapter Eight
“Go ahead and get her bra and panties off,” Eric told Judy and Vic over the comm link. “It’s time for her whipping. Use the shears.”
Instantly Vic had his hands on Sally’s bare upper arms, locking them in place. Judy pulled a pair of blunt-nosed safety shears from the pocket of her white coat.
“What... what are...” Sally started, but whether because her native intelligence made it impossible to misunderstand the mortifying situation or because the turmoil in her body and mind rendered rational thought—let alone rational speech—too difficult, her voice trailed off. Her eyes, though, followed the shears with their blue plastic handles as Judy brought them to the governor’s creamy chest with its ice-cream scoop mounds where pulses of pink betrayed Sally’s terrible confusion.
“No... please...” was all she could get out, then, at the soft snipping the shears made as they cut through her right bra strap. She trembled at the touch of the other woman’s hand as Judy took hold of the fabric in her fingers to steady it for the cut. Her arousal went to 9, and her galvanics, which had spiked just a moment before, trended rapidly downward.
Judy cut the left bra strap, her eyes on her work, and then she moved her hand to grasp the right cup of the black nylon bra, low down near Sally’s breastbone. The shears opened and slid up, until the center of the young governor’s bra, the last place holding it on her, came inside their blades. The woman in the white coat raised her eyes to meet Sally’s frightened gaze, and then she cut cleanly through the fabric as Sally gave a pitiful cry with the revelation of her sweet little breasts, their tiny pink nipples fully erect.
The bra, pulled cleanly away, dropped to the floor as Judy turned her attention downward.
“You can’t,” Sally whispered. “Please... ma’am... please, I’ll take them off.”
“It’s too late for that, Sally,” Judy said, looking up again into the girl’s pink face. “You won’t be needing panties for a while anyway, if I know Master Eric. Even if he puts you in something sexy for his own enjoyment, these ugly panties aren’t the kind of thing you’ll be wearing anymore.”
Judy thrust her right hand inside the waistband of the beige briefs, and Sally cried out. On Eric’s screen, the number in the corner jumped to 10, briefly, then settled to 9, then went to 10 again as Judy gathered the fabric and pulled it roughly so that she could cut through first at one side and then rapidly at the other.
The capta in the white coat ripped away Sally’s ruined panties and dropped them atop the girl’s bra.
“I’m going to whip you now, Sally,” Judy said. “Your master told you not to wear panties, and you almost told your chief of staff about your first training session last night on the phone. Then you tried to get out of coming here to start the new life your master has planned.”
Sally’s eyes had gone very wide, and now she started to struggle against Vic’s grasp. Eric gave her a shock at the lowest level. She whimpered and stopped moving. She took her lower lip between her teeth, and her forehead creased deeply. The 10 on Eric’s screen flashed, and the line showing muscle tension jumped to show that the young governor’s pussy had just clenched very hard.
“Please,” she tried. “Please, ma’am. I’ll be... I’ll be good?”
“You will certainly be better, from this point on, if I have anything to say about it,” Judy replied coldly. “But that will be because you know that when you are promised a whipping, you will receive a whipping. Go to the table over there and get upon it, on your back. Your master wishes you disciplined in the diaper position so he can see your bottom and pussy clearly as you learn your lesson.”
“The what?” Sally asked, fear clearly audible in her voice, though the 10 flashed again in the corner of Eric’s screen.
Vic let her arms go, and Sally turned to look over her left shoulder at him, a troubled expression on her face that seemed to plead for the huge man to call a stop to this terrible scene—or at least to tell her that diaper position couldn’t mean what Sally already knew it meant.
“I think you know, Sally,” Judy said calmly, walking toward the massage table a yard or so away. She patted its black vinyl surface with her right hand. “Come here, dirty girl. You need to start getting used to being a girl whose master knows what she needs. You know you’re going to have your bottom whipped, now. Don’t make it worse.”
Sally’s hands went to the collar. Eric timed the shock he gave her then so that she would feel that she had brought it on by the very thought process, stimulated by Judy’s reference to him, which had conjured up the shadowy image of her unseen master. Sally yelped, her eyes still fixed on the massage table and her feet unmoving.
Judy had nonchalantly turned to the counter near the table. She pulled open a drawer and took out a pink punishment strap, two feet long and made of stiff, stitched leather.
“No,” Sally whispered.
“Come here, Sally,” Judy said, her voice suddenly hard as iron.
“No... please,” Sally said, turning again to Vic and finding him just as implacable as ever. For a moment she seemed almost surprised
that he hadn’t grabbed her to haul her over to the place of punishment. Her arousal dropped to 9.
Then the close-up on Eric’s screen showed her eyes widening with the realization that Vic had no need to employ that kind of force. Again Sally’s hands went to the collar, and again, just as she touched it, Eric shocked her once, at the lowest level, then again, one notch up on the touch slider displayed on his phone.
10. The numerals flashed. Sally turned back to the table, and Judy standing calmly with the strap in her right hand, its business end resting on her left palm. She gave a little cry of fear and discomfort.
“No... not... not that way?”
She meant, Eric felt sure, the way she had so clearly pictured the diaper position in her mind, and how it echoed the posture she had adopted in the filthiest of her dirty-girl pictures: her knees high and her feet higher, her pussy and her anus shamefully exposed and terribly vulnerable.
Eric nudged the slider up one click, to the point where the shock would actually sting a bit, and pressed the red button for a single heartbeat.
Sally cried out and jerked her hands away from the collar. She turned her head wildly, looking in every corner of the room, and up at the ceiling, as if she could somehow see the cameras through which her master watched her.
Eric pressed the button again, for the same brief-but-long-enough interval. Sally emitted a little whimper as her pussy clenched, the 10 flashing yet one more time, and she practically ran the ten feet to the table.
“Ma’am... ma’am, please...” she breathed, as much to herself as to Judy. The naked girl, the governor, tried awkwardly to pull herself onto the table, which stood just high enough to make the task a tricky one.
Vic had come up behind her, though. He took her around the waist without force and boosted her up lightly. Again the 10s flashing showed that Sally Donaldson had just experienced more arousal than she had ever known before. She turned to look anxiously at the big man in the dark suit as he moved her effortlessly onto her back, his left arm now under her knees.
