• putting their hand on your back to lead you • paying for you • saying “no” in a stern but caring voice • opening doors or boxes for you • giving you reasonable instructions • ordering the food for you • telling you “come here” and/or pointing to the ground in front of them where they want you • fixing up your outfit/appearance (such as buttoning up your shirt or fixing your hair) • lifting your chin up • saying “look at me” •
This 👆🏻❤️
I love these things ❤️
*swoon*
see part one
It had been a year since the Halloween party where your brutish coworker had dressed as Boba Fett and preyed on your girlfriend’s intense dedication to staying in cosplay character. He convinced Slave Leia that her terrorist actions against a sovereign ruler of the former Republic, Jaba the Hutt, could sink the rebellion’s credibility. If the rebels took out sovereign rulers over personal vendettas, could they really be trusted as the torch bearers of democracy? So your girlfriend had agreed to go off with your bully, to an empty bedroom, and begin “proper slave training.” Beaten down by your coworker and told by your girl that, as Han Solo, you were too weak and blind from carbonite hibernation sickness to save her, you sat in the living room, miserable and anxious. You wondered what they were doing and drank yourself into unconsciousness. In the morning your girlfriend woke you up and made you drive her home.
Since then, you had both mostly pretended it didn’t happen. The one talk had been brief. “I’m sorry I got carried away, baby! You know how I am about staying in character! Besides, he just like made me dance and follow commands. Mostly getting him drinks. Being his footstool while he watched TV was the worst of it.” “Um, what kind of dances?” “Nothing! Just like cage dancer stuff. I didn’t strip! I mean, I did sorta give him a lap-dance…But! I told him he had to follow club rules: no touching the girls; they touch you, not vice versa.” You weren’t quite sure that was better but chose to be willfully ignorant and to believe in your girlfriend as hard as you could. You adored her and thinking on your doubts hurt.
She began going to more conventions than ever before. She’d always put a lot of effort into her characters and costumes, engaging in various LARPs and narrative improvs. Usually as a badass female warrior from fantasy or scifi. Nothing too femme or revealing. Yet now all of her costumes were skimpy and she seemed to have singled out every fictional slave girl character, from Star Trek to Mad Max to Elder Scrolls to Gor. You used to go with her when work permitted but now you couldn’t bear it, making weak excuses. She didn’t push you hard to change your mind.
You coworker, “Boba,” wasn’t nearly as reticent about the subject of the party. The next work day after that fateful Halloween party he had come right up to your desk and thanked you for telling him all about your girlfriend’s hot costume idea. “Without you I never would have tried this silly LARP stuff you nerds are always going on about. It was dumb but I can’t say it wasn’t fun. Your girlfriend was really dedicated to her part. Got down on her knees like a real slave and went to work, you know? And it wouldn’t have been possible without your cowardly, weakened Solo. Props, man!” Your only advantage over your bully coworker had been the girlfriend he lusted after and couldn’t have. Then you’d foolishly bragged and gave him the last advantage. You felt so dispirited that when he asked to have you reassigned under him, you didn’t argue. Occasionally he sent you home with a gift “for the Missus.” A few were the new slave costumes she’d go on to wear. All contained long notes she didn’t let you see. Sometimes your new boss was out on work trips the same weekends your girlfriend was at conventions. Weird coincidences, surely.
Friends tried to get you to break up with your girlfriend but you wouldn’t hear them. Nothing was wrong. Eventually your bestie couldn’t take it anymore and made you sit down and click through a gallery he’d compiled. It had posts and photos from various convention message boards. At first you just saw your girlfriend in her barely-there slave outfits. You’d seen that. Maybe not while being hugged so tight by other cosplayers and sweaty nerds, but whatever. She was good at what she did. Screenshots of her posts showed her building up her characters and looking for “slave trainers” and “slave owners” to play with. That made sense, too, really. You couldn’t be a slave by yourself. Cryptic references to how “Master” wanted her trained properly were just artistic flourishes, probably. More photos now showed her holding a sign saying “Train Me! Will work 4 orders.” And other cosplayers holding her leash while she leaned against them devotedly or kneeled at their feet. Some of the men looked a bit like your boss but they wore masks. Those made you feel weird. Surely it was paranoia, though, right? Another photo showed her beaming as various men and women wrote on her exposed skin in sharpie. Clicking through you saw “grope me” on her lower back, “cosplay = consent” on her stomach and “dumb slave” on her forehead. She looked so happy.
“You know, I get that it seems bad. I appreciate that you care, I do, but I love and trust my girlfriend. It’s just roleplay. Fantasy isn’t cheating.”
Your bestie left in disgust. You got a buzz on your phone. Bully boss wanted you to work late again, on Halloween. You sighed and texted your girlfriend that you’d have to be very late to the party. She said it was okay. Such a sweetie.
When 5PM rolled around on the 31st and Slave Leia showed in your office, you were confused but delighted. “Hey there Baby! I told you I have to work late. I’m so glad to see you, though! Wait…weren’t we going as
Hephaestus and Venus?” Your girlfriend bit her lip nervously and looked down. “Well, I mean, you couldn’t make it until who knows when…and I got a different offer…and you know I love having someone to LARP with, right?”
That’s when your boss emerged from his office, dressed as Boba Fett again, helmet in hand. “Slave! Do not speak to the riffraff unless I say you can.” “I’m so sorry, Master Fett! It won’t happen again! I’ve been training so hard to be a good slave. Please don’t tell Jabba!” He grabbed her chain leash, jerking it hard. “Hmph, we will see how trained you are. Though I do hope you have some Princess left in you for me to break.” She cooed. “And you, minion! Check that work in triplicate. Make a single mistake and there’ll be hell to pay. You may come watch me in action once you are done. Understood? Good. Now slave, show me your pleasure that I deign to be seen with you.” Your girlfriend went on tiptoe and you watched in horror as she kissed your bully deeply, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning her nearly naked body fully against his.
I was working in an office during summer break from college. It was sort of an internship, but I actually got paid. It was a lot of fun and felt like some good job experience. I was basically a secretary but I got to manage a few people too and they were talking about a real job after I graduated. So I wasn’t worried when my boss called me into his office, until I saw the dour look on his face.
“Please close the door. This is a little sensitive. No, don’t sit.”
I stood awkwardly in front of my older boss as he looked me up and down in my black skinny jeans, black silk dress shirt, plugs and bleached hair. My boss was a bit of a silver fox. His attention made me shiver.
“You know how we monitor the internet traffic of our employees.”
“Wha-…N-no, sir.” I stumbled over my words, blushing.
“It’s in the handbook you agreed to be bound by when you started. You really should read it. There’s lots of…liberties we can take.”
“Oh?”
“Yes…well, more to the point, IT sent word you’d been spending more and more time going to non-work sites. No worries, they don’t see the specifics. It all gets flagged by the system and obfuscated, but I was sent the list to review. Standard practice. I expected Facebook, Twitter, porn. Unimportant stuff we don’t care about. But it seems you’ve been spending hours each day browsing transgender sites. MTF, specifically. Instructional, supportive, some…lewd.”
“I’m so terribly sorry, sir! It won’t happen again! I was still getting my work done, I swear! It was for a friend!”
“Hush, hush. No, no, quiet your hysterics. I’m not firing you. You’ve made me realize that our health insurance doesn’t cover gender transition, or whatever you call it. I’m in talks with HR to get that fixed. Would you like that?”
“Ummm, yes sir, but I’m a temp employee. I don’t get benefits. And I’ll be back in school soon.”
“Yes, about that. Well, what’s more important, being a girl or being a college graduate?”
He had me there. I was quivering. From anticipation, fear, confusion, eroticism. “A g-girl, sir?”
“Good! Glad to hear. No one cares if an airhead secretary finished college. So how about you drop out and come be my assistant full time? Then you can start taking hormones immediately. Don’t even bother to officially drop, actually. Failing out of college will get you so much more in the proper mindset for your new life.” I just nodded, dumbstruck. Some part of my mind screamed at the degradation and sexism, but my libido had teamed up with my gender euphoria and was firmly in control.
“You know I like you, right?” my boss continued. “How much I’ve come to depend on you? It would be cruel to leave me now. I know we were grooming you for ‘better’ things but I think you’ll agree that the real best thing for a dumb bimbo like you isn’t to be a manager but rather my secretary”
I nodded, mouth slightly agape, drooling.
“I’m so glad you understand! I normally like cute young girls as my secretaries. When I got you I was initially disappointed. And then worried at how much I…enjoyed having you serve me. It didn’t help what a pretty thing you were. I felt very confused since I don’t like guys. Plus, the other upper managers teased me, y’know? ‘Roy, how’s that assistant treating you? Is it true men are better at giving head?’“
“I’m, uh, sorry, sir. I should have, um, told you sooner?”
“Yes, you should have. Trust your boss. I can’t help if I don’t know the truth. Well, the important thing is I know you’re a girl now and I can rest easy. I don’t have to feel weird about wanting to plow you. Uh, sorry. Didn’t mean to sexually harass you.”
“Oh, um, no offense taken. It’s…a little flattering.”
“Just like a girl! You know how many girl secretaries I’ve had that eagerly jumped on my cock?”
“No?”
“Me neither! A dozen? Most of them, in any case. By the end. Girls like powerful, older men. They like being put in their place. Do you?”
God, how did he have me so spot-on? I was just about to cream my panties.
“…yes, sir.”
“See, you’re such a good girl! Who could argue with that? Idiots.”
Tears were forming in my eyes. “*sniff* thank you, sir.”
“What should I call you? Do you have a new name picked out?”
I nodded and spoke meekly, “K-Kendra, sir.”
“Kendra! Lovely name. I’ll get HR on that. Now, Kendra, you’ll get more hours and the chance for overtime, but you’ll make less per hour, of course.”
“Wh-what? But why?”
“Silly girl. Women make less than men. You want to be a woman, right?”
I nodded, dazed.
“Good! Plus it will offset the cost of adding trans coverage to our health plan. Just think of all the supposed men we could be paying 22% less! Sure, there will be migration in the opposite direction, too, but I think our misogynist culture will keep most of them away. And draw your lot like a moth to the flames”
Fuck! He had my number. I was squirming.
“Well I can see I have you intrigued. Show me that big clitty of yours. Yes…now! Mmm, not bad. Though I suspect no one ever mistook it for a real cock. Not just that it’s a bit small for a cock, but everything about you. It just doesn’t add up that you could be anything but a girl.”
Tears were falling down my face as I stood before my boss with my erect clit out. “yes, sir.”
“Mmmm, now strip for me. You want it, right? Good. Now take off all your clothes. Let me see your slutty girl body. Wow, what a perfect canvas for a new girl to start from. I can’t wait to watch it develop. Okay, now I’m going to suck that clit. You’re not to fuck anyone with your clit, anymore, you understand?”
I nodded.
“Good girl. Now only use this pussy back here. If you decide to shrink that clitty and get another pussy, then you can get fucked there, too. But be a good girl. No topping.”
I whimpered as he sucked me. Eventually I was wracked with an orgasm and he let my juices fall all over my stomach and chest.
“Just rub that in. Yes, use your hands. It’ll dry eventually and then you can get dressed. You’ll smell of sex all day, like a proper slut.”
Then he started fucking my ass (um, pussy?). He rubbed some of my own lubrication in there. I moaned with abandon in his office, wondering who could hear.
“Now about those stock boys you manage. I know you like supervising people, but it just isn’t seemly for a good girl like you to be ordering men around. Even if they are just teenage layabouts. It would damage their morale. But, I’m not a cruel man. And I’ve overhead that they like you; in fact, they want to get you in a dress and bend you over as I am. Clever boys. So I’ll let you still work with them. It’s just that the only commands you can give them will be mine. Any input you have for them will be more of a…suggestion. As men, young and immature though they may be, you are to respect their greater aptitude for logic and critical thinking. If they countermand or question you, thank them for their input. If they try anything…well, understand it’s good for morale. Got it?”
“Y-yes, sir! Fuck! How are you so good at this?”
“Thanks, Kendra. I have decades of experience bringing impressionable young girls to heel. Now, we’ll send out an office-wide email Monday congratulating you on your new position, letting people know about your name and pronouns, and letting everyone know that if they need anything at all that you are here to help anyone in any way you can. Sound good?”
“Fuck! Ahhh. Yes, sir!”
“You might want to apologize to the stock boys for ever putting yourself over them. I’ll set up a meeting, okay?”
“Yes! Mmmmmm.”
“Mind if I cum in you?”
“Please! P-please, sir! Give me your cum!”
“Good girl.”
Your wife Kimi loved
you and only wanted to help. She saw the way you were still traumatized by
memories of your high school bully, even after all these years. To be fair, he
had done some wild shit to you: encouraging you to john the wrestling team just
to torment you daily with brutal take-downs, pantsing you at a pep rally and encouraging
the cheerleaders to mock your small pecker (a couple had improvised a cheer),
getting you drunk and writing “dick slut” on your forehead in sharpie, the
list went on. It affected your confidence…even in bed. She figured if you could
just meet Adan as an adult, the fear would dissipate. Either he’d have matured
and apologize profusely or he’d be some immature man-child and would thus not
be worth fearing.
What your wife didn’t anticipate was that he’d act very
contrite and agree to go home with her to apologize to you ASAP, only to then convince
her to fuck him in your marital bed long before you arrived from work. Though
Adan had enough stamina to fuck her until you came back and found them. From the living room you
heard her moaning and calling out about how much bigger, better and harder he
was.
It was all the “apologetic” stories he’d told her about bullying you that
had done her in. He sounded so ashamed as he detailed hurting and humiliating her husband. Kimi couldn’t understand it, but hearing about you being mistreated drover her libido wild. She asked for more stories, more details. By the time he’d gotten to kicking your ribs in while you
writhed on the locker room floor after a good beating and how he’d then pissed
all over you and left you there with no change of clothes, well, by then her panties were soaked and she was writhing quite
a bit herself. Your old bully noticed and looked Kimi square in the eye, telling her to show him her tits. Entranced, she quickly nodded and pulled her top
down. The rest flowed naturally from there.
You burst into the room with no plan, just pure adrenaline.
“I’m! So! Sorry! Babe!” Your wife cried out to the cadence
of his thrusts.
“Get off of her!”
“Is that what you want, Kimi? You want me to stop fucking
you because your sissy, limp-dicked husband says so?”
Kimi moaned out while Adan insulted you and then looked
sheepishly your way. “No, M-master.” Then she lowered her head and whispered, “I’m
sorry.”
That was pretty much the end of your marriage, as you
watched your high school bully Adan cum unprotected in your wife’s pussy. She whimpered
and told him what a superior fuck he was and how this one afternoon of passion
had been better than years of sex with you. You heard that a lot in the coming
weeks. It seemed he needed a place to stay and Kimi quickly volunteered your
bed. They both got a thrill out of you watching their fuck sessions,
humiliated. To be fair, you were largely humiliated by how hard it got you.
One night your wife asked you to present your hands. She
took your wedding ring and gave it to Adan. He just laughed and pulled hers
off, too, throwing them in the trash. “I own you, bitch, but I don’t need a
ring to prove it.” She melted into his arms.
Adan soon had you running all his errands and serving him
like a maid. A slutty maid. He even got you an outfit to match (on your credit
card). Sometimes he’d call you home for lunch, while Kimi was at work, to suck
him off. He trained you into a good BJ queen. He’d also make you play
fluffer to him in between rounds fucking your wife. Kimi loved that. You all
did.
You slept in the guest room, of course. You didn’t see Kimi
much. Certainly not in a sexual or even romantic context. To your wife you were
basically just Adan’s toy and a live-in maid. Occasionally Adan would come in
late and make you suck him off. It was amazing he could still get hard, let
alone blow such large loads down your throat. After a few months he moved on to
fucking your ass, both late at night and during your special lunches. You hadn’t
been allowed to come for a long time when he suddenly wrapped his fingers around your
cock while fucking you from behind. “That’s a good boy. You have a nice little
dicklet. You like that? Yeah? Come for me. Now.” You came on cue, exactly when he
asked.
One week Kimi had to go out of town on business. Adan fucked
your holes savagely and sent photos to your (supposed) wife. Yet…he also fell
asleep in your new bed, spooning you. That made you feel tingly. You realized
your trauma from Adan’s high school beatings had washed away at some point
during the months he’d spend stealing your wife and domming you. Strange but
true.
Adan started calling on you more often for lunch meet-ups. And he started kissing you. His kisses were sweet and passionate. Whenever Kimi was away for a night he slept with you or called you to the master bed. He told you to stop calling him Master, though. “That’s Kimi’s thing. Just call me Adan. Or Daddy.” He winked.
Seven months after this crazy mess had started, Kimi (still technically your wife), had another business night away. Adan ordered you to meet him at a
fancy restaurant for dinner. Your treat. Getting tipsy on cheap table wine and
giggling at his dumb jokes, you wondered if he liked you too? Surely not. He
just wanted a nice meal and a hole to fuck. That’s when he pulled out a small box
and presented it to you. Your stomach was in free fall. You opened it. It was your
wife’s wedding band. You just looked at him. He opened his palm and revealed
your wedding band before slipping it on his ring finger. He took Kimi’s and
placed it in front of your finger. “Will you?”
Tears in your eyes, you reached across the table and pulled
him by the lapels to your lips. Scattered nosy onlookers cheered, soon joined
by everyone. Sitting back with a big grin, Adan finished putting the ring on
your finger.
When you started dating your girlfriend she had warned there would be “complications”. You were obsessed and madly in I love so you agreed to do “whatever it takes” to be with her.
That’s when she sheepishly brought out The Contact. It said someone named Lucas Tipton owned your girlfriend’s body and was entitled to “ravage her whenever he so pleases.” What the hell?! He was her ex, she explained. She’d been into his kinks and so signing away her bodily autonomy had just seemed really hot at the time. Nothing in the contract had forbidden her from dumping the asshole when she grew wise to his womanizing. Unfortunately, according to the rules, only he could release her from her obligations.
Surely this wasn’t legal? “No,” she replied, looking away, “but my Papa brought me up to respect men and always honor my agreements and promises. I hate it, I do, but I just can’t dishonor myself and my Papa by turning back on my word. He may not keep his promises, but I do. I can’t sink to his level. I know this is weird, but…can you still love me?” Of course you could. You had no choice but to love her.
That’s how you ended up with a girlfriend who fucks her ex more than she does you. Oh, at first she tried to keep parity, but more and more these days she’s just too tired and sore. You hate it, but you love each other. And you respect her sense of duty and trust. Sure, sometimes you wish it was a little less… Like when she earnestly thanks every cat-caller for their compliments and complies with their demands that she “twirl for me, show me what you got.” Or how she abandons you at the drop of a hat when her ex texts her a booty call. Or worse, the appointment she has to get a clit piercing and tramp stamp tattoo reading ‘Luke’s Bitch’. But what can you do? “I’m so sorry babe, but he owns my body; I take that seriously. And it’s not like I’m not his bitch. But I’m your love, honey.”
Hah !
(Source plz ?)
thats just mean – love it
It had been a mistake coming to the beach with Jessica and her friends. I knew she hated me. But I didn’t know anyone in town and so when she suddenly invited me for an outing I jumped on it. They all were acting too nice. They didn’t even mock me for my accent like usual. Though they couldn’t seem to help themselves from disparaging my ‘prudish’ bathing suit. Did my culture not believe in sinful bikinis, Jess asked. Jake and Molly sniggered. Idiots.
Eventually I needed to pee and was glad for the excuse to get away. Molly pointed me in the vague direction of the shower house. There were only showers… As I anxiously walked around looking for bathrooms, I felt hand brush across my back and then a click sound. I’d been ‘brushed’ often enough on the subway to know that confronting a creep was no good, so I just reached back to swat the hand away. But I found a rubber tube? I spun and my bathing suit was pulled downward by the bike lock that was suddenly locked around my suit and the fence. I cried out and reached to cover my breasts, just barely catching the clink of a key dropping into a strange box nearby and a figure running away.
Was that…Molly? And was this Jake’s bike lock? I knew they didn’t like me, but this was a bit much. After a few minutes I couldn’t find a way out other than removing my bathing suit to go get the key from the box. Then I could unlock my suit. Fortunately I was behind the shower building where no one seemed to go. Covering as much as I could, I shrugged out of the suit and crawled over to the box. I could feel the cool ocean breeze all over my naked skin. Even on my…embarrassingly wet pussy. I was practically dripping! Why?!
Pushing the thought away, I reached my hand inside to get the key. The interior of the box felt weirdly small and metallic. And the more I groped around, the smaller it felt. Finally I grasped the key and yanked my hand out. The box came with it! Or, part of it. The sides fell away and I found my wrist encircled by both the top of the box and a handcuff! Which was bolted to the concrete?!
Now I was done for. Here I was, at the beach, in public, and somehow both naked and chained to the ground. Ughhhh. I should have just called for help at first but it seemed embarrassing. Now it was so much worse. And my pussy was on fire! Ugh. Not to mention I had to pee. I held off for long minutes, but no one came by and I couldn’t bear to call out. Maybe I wasn’t thinking straight, but this situation was crazy. So…I just peed. Right where I crouched, all around me. The puddle was big.
That’s when I heard Jessica, of course. “Chan-chan! Where are you? Where did you go my sweet chinadoll?” Ugh. “Are you lost? Did you fall in? Oh! There you are, Chan-chan. Oh my, what a predicament. Is this how your people use the bathroom? I’m afraid that’s not considered appropriate here. Crawling around in your own urine. Very foul.” Molly and Jake were bowled over laughing. “But no, I really should be more accepting. If this is what makes you comfortable, I won’t shame you. In fact, I’ll join you.”
With that Jessica dropped her bikini briefs and walked out of them. Her foot flashed forward, kicking me over into my own puddle. I exposed my body trying to catch myself. Jessica stood over me, one leg on either side. I tried to tell her this was all a big misunderstanding, but I only managed to get a few words out before her golden stream cut me off promptly. It splashed all over my chest, my face, got in my hair…my mouth. I swallowed instinctively. Gross. Though actually it didn’t taste like much besides warm water.
“O. M. G. The bitch swallowed it. I guess this really is an honor for her. Jake! Molly! Get over here and show her some respect.” Jessica sat on my chest and held my nose while Jake and then Molly peed in my mouth. She wouldn’t let go until I swallowed it all. My face burned. And so did my aroused pussy.
Your best friend is training your girlfriend to be his perfect slut
You’d told your best friend in confidence that your gf, the girl of your dreams, had turned out to be really hesitant and inexperienced in bed. At first the fact that she turned so many guys down made her irresistible. But after months of wooing, and being elated to finally get her, you were kinda let down. She was so hot and you loved her, but what could you do?
Your best friend decided to “help.” He sent screenshots of the convo to your girlfriend. At first she didn’t believe him. So they met up and she looked through his phone to prove it wasn’t just photoshopped. She cried a lot but your friend held her and reassured her. She could learn to be better at sex; that’s what everyone did. But she said she was too mortified, too embarrassed to ask you for tips now. She didn’t even think she could bear to have sex with you at all now, knowing how you felt.
Your “friend” told her that he would help her gain the confidence and skills she lacked. He was good at it; he had had practice. She’d heard of his reputation, right? “Yes, they call you the ‘virgin slayer.’ I always thought it was disgusting, but now I just feel…like a silly, inadequate prude.” No worries, he told her, he’d make her far more than adequate. By the time he was done with her, she’d be the best lay her boyfriend had ever had.
—–
Months later, your girlfriend told you she was ready to have sex again after she’d taken some time off. But again it was disappointing…for her. Now you were the one who was too hesitant and inexperienced. She’d been fucking your best friend nonstop this whole time and she craved a man who knew what he wanted and took it.
That night she cried in his arms and begged him to help her again. She loved you. “Please, teach him to fuck, too?”
And that’s how you ended up handcuffed to your bed, being fucked in the ass by your best friend while your girlfriend gave you tips. “That’s it, legs apart. Get in a rhythm with him. Notice how he holds and guides your hips to help match his thrusts? Follow his lead. Good girl. Now feel how he reaches between your legs to give your boy-clitty some stimulation? Sometimes a girl needs the help, okay? Mmm, I can see you are feeling how nice it is. Remember that. Okay, so we’re going to keep you from cumming but I’ll remove your blindfold so you can watch him fuck me and see how a real man does it. If you’re good, I’ll remove the gag so you can learn to eat me out after he cums. Awww, are those tears of gratitude? You’re so welcome, baby, I love you too.”
No one needs your permission to use you when you are a slave …
The things you agree to when horny… Some have consequences.
ProblemCollectionLove 