by Ella Ford
She moved again and sat beside CJ, turning her body to face the cringing blonde and stroking her knee with idle detachment.
“At first, I fought against her. Forbade her from seeing Sarah and punishing her harder and harder, a vain attempt to keep her in line. But I soon came to realize that some causes are lost, and that I could not fight against what was becoming increasingly obvious. CJ had outlived my tutelage, and needed to pursue her own desires. With great reluctance, I agreed to release her, providing her with the freedom that she didn’t yet have the courage to seize herself. But there was one condition attached…”
I felt my body tense up, sensing that this earth shattering story was about to reach its climax.
“The condition was that when she inevitably took a maid of her own, she was to break the girl, train her, achieve her undying devotion and then bring her to me. As payment, if you like, for the time I had invested in CJ’s training. Oh, I would offer financial recompense of course. I’m not a monster you know?”
I gasped and Sarah sobbed again. The full realization of what was happening hit home. There had never been any firm foundation, our relationship was built on a lie! I was simply a commodity, nurtured to maturity and then offered up as payment for a long due debt! A burning cloud of anger boiled inside me, threatening to spill out. I felt stupid and wretched, used by someone who I trusted implicitly, someone who I had given the gift of my submission to. I felt my eyes fill with tears and fought to hold them back, not wanting to give CJ the satisfaction of my misery. And then another realization swept over me.
“You… you knew about this?” I said, facing Sarah directly. Her actions and motivations suddenly cast in a different light.
The elfin brunette’s face was streaked with tears, and she struggled to lift her eyes to meet mine. “Y-yes,” she breathed, a barely audible whisper in the overwhelming silence of the room.
I breathed in deeply, pushing back the feeling of betrayal and anguish. “Wh-what if I don’t want to?” I said to Cassandra.
She glared back at me and I sensed that she was about to lose her temper. But her face relaxed and she smiled at me. “Oh Leanne, so naive. If you don’t want to… as I’m sure you won’t… then you can leave. The same as Sarah, or Kaitlyn, or Princess. You are all possessions in name only, the only thing holding you in place is your servitude and submission, your sense of place. You can leave at any time, as you could when you belonged to CJ. But you didn’t… why not, I wonder?”
She offered the question to me and I opened my mouth to reply, but then stopped. I wasn’t sure why I stayed with CJ and Sarah. Maybe now it was a feeling of stability and love, but at first? On that first night in the basement, when CJ told me, didn’t ask me, to lick Sarah’s waiting pussy… why didn’t I turn and run then? Why didn’t I leave after one of CJ’s countless spankings? Or when she forced me to fuck my best friend?
A slow realization began to dawn on me, the ruddy rays of enlightenment illuminating the vast plain of my awareness. I needed to be owned. The lack of agency, the surrender of responsibility, the bliss of objectification. It was something I craved, this feeling of being a commodity. And I knew, at that moment, that I would come to Cassandra and surrender to her, offering my life to her as I had to CJ.
I turned to Cassandra once more and opened my mouth, intending to offer one final word of bold defiance. But my resolve weakened and I gazed at the floor. “I don’t know, mistress.”
If anything, the drive home was worse than the drive to Cassandra’s house. Instead of perfect silence, the journey was punctuated by Sarah’s light sobbing. I stared out of the window at the fading light of day and considered my fate.
I was to be taken to CJ’s where I would live out my final days as her maid, awaiting the arrival of the paperwork that would transfer ownership of me to Cassandra and absolve CJ of this hypothetical debt.
For her part, CJ didn’t talk at all, didn’t even acknowledge my presence. She simply drove us into the darkening night and faced her demons alone.
For the second time, I was awoken by the sound of the small silver bell. But this time it was not daytime. I glanced at my bedside clock and found that it was just gone midnight. I shook my head and tried to clear my thoughts. Had I dreamed the sound of the bell?
Suddenly, the insistent chiming rang through the house again. It was faint and distant, seeming to come from somewhere other than the kitchen this time. I stood and made my way out of my bedroom and down the hall, following the gentle chime. To my surprise, it was coming from the basement, behind the thick white door that was normally kept firmly locked.
I gasped in shock, unsure what to expect. Surely CJ wouldn’t require playtime tonight, not after the events of the day? She was cold and calculating, but she wasn’t a monster. I stepped towards the door and eased it open. The light on the staircase was on and I could hear the sound of movement from down in the basement.
I thought about returning to my room, but the bell chimed once more, reminding me of my obligations. I was being summoned and, while I was still a maid in this house, I was duty bound to obey. I set off down the stairs, measuring my footsteps to avoid making a sound.
As I reached the bottom, I heard a voice. “Come in Leanne, join us.” I gasped, suddenly reminded of my first time in this sultry room. But though the words were familiar, the voice was not. At least not in this context. It was CJ who had invited me in that first time, compelling me to pleasure her bound wife with my nervous tongue. But this voice was Sarah’s herself! I shook my head, my sleepy mind struggling to process the strange twist.
I stepped into the room, pushing open the door and peering around into the dimly lit space.
What I found there shocked me deeply and I gasped, holding my hand over my mouth.
Kneeling on the floor in the center of the room was CJ. The tall blonde was blindfolded and gagged, her hands crossed behind her head. She was completely naked, not even afforded the warmth of stockings and shoes. Her nipples were stone hard and her skin was covered in a light rash of gooseflesh in the chilly air of the basement.
Towering above her was Sarah. The normally timid girl was transformed, wearing a tight leather corset that was a deep crimson color that complemented her pale complexion perfectly. She was wearing black pantyhose and knee length leather boots, with a sharp heel that clicked on the wooden floor as she walked. Her hair, usually a tumbling cascade of dark curls, was slicked back on her head with a gel of some kind and gathered in a tight bun behind her. Her face was thick with makeup, dark eyes and burgundy lips. She looked powerful and commanding, a far cry from her usual self.
I felt myself shudder at the sight of the pair of them, shook by the reversal in roles; aroused by the submissiveness of CJ and the sheer presence of Sarah.
“Come in Leanne,” said Sarah sweetly, and pointed at the floor beside CJ. “Why don’t you join CJ down there,” she added. Without hesitation, I moved across the room and lowered myself down beside the normally intimidating blonde, matching her pose instinctively.
“You’re probably wondering what is going on?” said Sarah and I nodded my reply. “It’s quite simple. CJ and I have talked and we’ve come to an understanding. You see, you, Leanne, are our maid. You were never CJ’s alone to give. We own you equally and it is not within CJ’s remit to give you up to… that woman.” Her voice wavered slightly when she mentioned Cassandra, her hatred evident in her tone.
She stepped over to the wall of implements and began to idly toy with the collection of dildos and whips.
“The more we talked, the more it became apparent that a change was needed. For too long, I’ve watched as CJ lived in the shadow of Cassandra; for too long, I’ve carried the weight of her secret debt. Well, those days are over. I gave CJ an ultimatum. Either she submitted to me, or our relationship was over. She can no longer be trusted as a mistress, not while Cassandra still holds the gun of their past to her head.”
I felt a sudden surge in my pussy, a wave of
relief that I was no longer to be sold to Cassandra and a rush of excitement at the sudden change in Sarah. I wondered whether this had been inside her all along, whether she’d simply been looking for an opportunity to seize control.
“And if Cassandra doesn’t like it, then she come and try to take you herself. I suspect she won’t though - that dreadful woman is only capable of seducing naive college brats and is powerless against a real woman.”
I sensed CJ shuffle beside me, clearly hurt by the obvious jibe.
Sarah released the meaty dildo that she was idly toying with and moved back across to the room, then squatted in front of me. She lifted her hand to my face and curled her fingers under my chin. “So what do you say Leanne? Will you give yourself to me? Be my willing fucktoy?”
I breathed deeply, taking in the cloying scent of her into my nose and throat, rich leather and exotic perfume. Then I blinked and met her gaze. “I already have,” I whispered.
She smiled warmly, a fleeting glimpse of the winsome woman that she used to be, maybe still was. Then she stood and walked back to the wall of sordid sextoys.
“CJ, on your back. Show Leanne that pretty pussy of yours.” CJ responded instantly, sitting down first then swinging her legs around and lowering herself to her back, spreading her knees wide apart and revealing the dripping chasm of her pussy. “Leanne, don’t just stare at it. Eat it!” added Sarah with a hint of impatience in her voice.
“Yes, mistress,” I said and dropped my head between CJ’s legs and began to devour her hot sex. The blonde moaned through the ball gag and dropped her hands to my head, gripping my hair tightly and pulling me forwards, deeper into herself.
I allowed myself to drawn, surrendered to her tight grip. Even though our dynamic had changed, I still craved direction and guidance. I thrust my tongue forwards and lapped at her, licking the wet lips of her labia and plunging deeper inwards, seeking out the tight entrance of her hole. Then I forced my tongue into her, pushing her open and exposing her with my probing advance. She cried out, a muffled scream of pleasure, and arched her back upwards.
Suddenly, I felt a presence behind me and glanced back. Sarah had taken up position between my legs and was gripping my hips tightly. Then, without a single moment of hesitation, she thrust something into me, a strap on dildo like the one that I had used on Princess, but wider, longer and applied with less consideration for my tender pussy.
I screamed out and lifted my head from CJ’s wet mound, then felt a sharp slap on my ass as Sarah spanked me sharply. “Back to work you!” she cried out and laughed. A sudden rush of pleasure flooded my body with its radiance. The intoxicating thrill of submission, the debilitating waves of electricity that were rushing out of my stretched pussy as Sarah pounded me and the heady cocktail of CJ’s lust, rich and vital and brimming with femininity.
It was all too much, and my mind raced to process the endless torrent of sensation, feeling the inevitable presence of my looming climax, barreling over the horizon and towering above me, demanding acknowledgement. I turned into it and accepted its advance, allowing it to roll across my body and engulf my thoughts, thrilling at the sheer power of the rising ball of pure pleasure.
I came easily that first time with Sarah in control, as did CJ. Our bodies releasing themselves to the deluge of ecstasy that washed over us and threatened to engulf us. But it wasn’t the last time I came that night, each agonizingly overwhelming orgasm better than the last, strengthening the tested bonds between the three of us.
In time, we struggled up the stairs to bed. Bodies wasted and spent, exhausted by the hours of pleasure and pain, we collapsed together, naked limbs tangled together, cooling skin slick with drying perspiration. Sleep came, and with it, contentment, the sense that things were right again.
Because everything changes, but some things are constant. I began by submitting to CJ, but that changed, and I now submit to Sarah. The circumstances of my possession are different, but the constant of my obedience remains. For I was born to this, born to be a maid, born to serve.
THE END
Collecting Beth, Shy Intern
by Ella Ford
Chapter 1: The Viewing Room
Now
“Hi. Miss Ross? Miss Claudia Ross? My name is Elise Cole, I work at the Midtown Herald.”
The pretty brunette peered at me through the open door, her large green eyes flicking between my face and the house beyond, straining to see inside. She looked younger up close, perhaps twenty two or twenty three. Petite and toned, with high cheekbones and full lips. She wore a smart pink business suit, with a tight pencil skirt that hugged her shapely waist and thighs. Her outfit was completed with tan pantyhose and matching pink pumps with an open toe. She had the appearance of an older woman, or at least a younger woman who wanted to project a professional image.
I held out my hand and smiled warmly. The girl took it and we shook. I noted her manicured fingers, polished to the exact shade of red that her lips were painted. Out of curiosity, I flicked my eyes downwards and glimpsed at her toenails through the thin gauze of her hose. They were painted the same shade. I smiled inwardly, relishing the girl’s attention to detail.
Elise noted my subtle scrutiny and blinked in confusion. “Uh, you called our offices. About your collection?”
“Ah yes,” I replied, extending my warm smile and stepping backwards out of the doorway. “Won’t you come in?”
Elise Cole smiled back at me and seemed to relax. She nodded and stepped past me into the spacious hallway of my house. “I’m excited to see it,” she said nervously, with no real conviction, “your collection, I mean. If it’s half as extensive as you say, it’ll make a wonderful piece in our Collectors Corner column. We don’t get many doll enthusiasts around here. Mostly it’s just stamps or coins, you know?” she added with a frown.
“I can imagine that could get quite boring for a talented girl like you,” I replied, never once letting my smile falter. I wanted Elise to feel perfectly relaxed and at ease.
The girl flushed and cocked her head to the side. “I’m sorry Miss Ross, have we met?” she asked. “I get the impression that you know me, and you asked for me by name when you called the office.”
I touched a reassuring hand to her shoulder. “Not that I am aware of my dear. I am simply an avid collector who enjoys your column. Won’t you step inside the living room? I can put some tea on if you wish?”
I gestured towards the open double doors on the right, guiding Elise away from the closed room on the left. Not yet.
“Thank you, but I’m a little pressed for time. Can we just get straight into the interview?” she said apologetically as we stepped across the room.
“Of course, how rude of me to keep you from your business. Let’s take a seat and we can begin.”
I waited for Elise to sit down on one of the ornate, antique seats in the living room. I had modest tastes, despite the ostentatious size of my house, but I had a special weakness for such pieces of furniture and allowed myself the indulgence once in awhile.
“You have a lovely house, Miss Ross,” she said as she rummaged in her bag and retrieved an old fashioned looking notepad and pen.
“Thank you Elise. And please, call me Claudia,” I replied, moving to sit on the sofa.
The girl looked up at me and smiled, absentmindedly crossing her legs over one another, her soft pantyhose causing an audible swish as her thighs rubbed together. “Okay, let’s begin. How long have you been a collector?”
I paused and thought back to that night in Vegas, so long ago but still burning bright in my mind. “About three years.”
She paused to scrawl something in her notepad. “And what made you begin collecting dolls?”
I narrowed my eyes in thought and leaned my head to one side. “I like to take care of things, to be responsible, you know?”
Elise’s mouth curled upwards in a smile and a particular expression flicked over her face. I knew what she was thinking - aging widower, no kids, r
egretting her life’s choices, turns to collecting to fill a void in her life. She nodded sympathetically. “What period are the dolls in your collection from?”
It was my turn to pause. “Modern, mostly modern,” I replied with a wry style.
The reporter looked momentarily confused and I realized that my answer had been strangely cryptic.
I cleared my throat. It was time. “Elise, I think it’s time I showed you my collection, wouldn’t you agree? I can answer any question you have in the Viewing Room?”
Elise blinked. “Y-yes, of course.”
I stood up and straightened my dress, gesturing back into the hallway with a friendly smile. Elise nodded and followed my lead, the quizzical expression on her face suggesting that she suspected all was not quite as it seemed. She had no idea.
We reached the hallway and I brushed past the young girl, noting the delicate scent of her perfume and quick cadence of her breathing. She seemed nervous, intimidated by the imposing double doors of the closed room before us.
I paused before the doors and gripped the handles, then turned to her and offered her a reassuring smile. “I call this the Viewing Room. It is an indulgence of mine, a place to show off my collection to interested parties. I hope you enjoy it.”
With that, I swept open the double doors and moved aside to allow Elise through, never once allowing myself to lose sight of her face. I wanted to see her expression, to gauge her reaction and anticipate her actions. These first seconds were of vital importance for the coming hours.
