It was anything but a Hollywood scene. In sleep her (admittedly fine) body was comically displayed at a 45-degree angle along the mattress. Like Tom Hanks in ‘The Burbs’. A (noticeably naked) leg was bent back at one of her knees. Like a battlefield casualty. And that (golden autumn) hair was a study in chaos at the moment Kelly’s alarm ushered in another Tuesday to be endured. Like that crone in every neighborhood who sweeps dirt from one side of her greasy kitchen to the other…and back again. The alarm kept buzzing. So twenty-four year old Kelly Vaughn responded in a most un-Hollywood fashion.
She gave it the middle finger.
Then silence. Thought. Trepidation. Angst.
Yup. Tuesday.
Kelly allowed the light coverlet to fall from her nakedness as she plodded to the bath. And a face bracing splash of icy water. In the mirror her eyes were still green and at the floor the tiles chilled her bare feet. The nude reflection decided to wait before brushing its teeth and instead flipped both the mirror and the freezing tiles another Italian salute. Middle finger extended.
Back on the bed the coed sensed - despite her ennui - the length of her legs, the heft of her breasts and the allure of her own body. But then Tuesdayish thoughts assailed Kelly’s dark brain. Mother desired to ‘go shopping’ with her after an afternoon anthropology class. Yeeeesh. Daniel had left another two texts on her phone. Presumably in relation to Kelly having ignored the previous three or four. Loser. A shift at the Cynic Scene beckoned for later tonight. And Kelly groaned at the thought of her body being on display yet again for a few verbal appraisals and a few fewer tips. Fuck! And then there was the lingering matter of the internship in Milan. And how - just bloody HOW - Kelly was going to explain to Sara that a probable absence of six months wouldn’t hijack thee most erotic Standing Offer of her life.
FUCK!
Kelly sighed deeply, pinched her light brown nipples awake and - in not a single shred of clothing - headed for the breakfast nook. And the salvation of this morning’s first cup of coffee. But a funny thing happened on the way to salvation. In the form of the two longest, most powerful arms Kelly had ever encountered encircling her torso from behind and bringing her naked, nude body to the hardwood floor. Followed by the largest male hand Kelly had ever tasted pushing cotton wadding past her lips and deep inside her mouth before Kelly even had an opportunity to scream.
“Easy there, dogsbody. Don’t wanna’ bruise what I get to abuse. Easy there, whore.”
(…exactly six months and three days later)
Kelly was in a pair of four-inch heels that once-upon-a-time belonged to Sara Wilkerson. The footwear made it well…not ‘difficult’…but…‘uncomfortable’ to wait upon Mr. Abbot at table. Kelly was well aware of how the stilettos propped up her ass. Equal in import to the fact that she’d been topless for three weeks running. Kelly was aware of all this and more when she bent low upon her humiliating stilts and submitted to sweeping away her Owner’s luncheon.
Kelly was also very much aware that she was smiling.
With a curt twin-knuckle rap atop the table Mr. Abbot signaled to his sex slave that the dishes could wait. Then pushed his hefty bulk - sans trousers - away from the table. With a descending flourish Kelly instinctively dropped all the way to her knees. And was able to sweep away the tresses of her beautiful hair just in time so as to not interfere with accepting the prong of Mr. Abbot’s huge cock as deeply (and as deftly) as she could down her raw throat.
All the while smiling, smiling, smiling.
“Good girl. The eggs were better today dogsbody. All the way in…use…use y-your tongue slut. Sara is appreciative (I can assure you!) when a little oral effort on your part kay-vee soothes my digestion. I said use your fuckin’ tongue slut! Remember all I’ve done for you Kelly! Jesus!”
Twenty-five year old Kelly Vaughn knelt, efforted her throat and grew blissful at the impact her demeaning service was affording the penis lodged in her mouth. Kelly was Mr. Abbot’s dogsbody. His whore. His property. It was true…the fat man HAD done a lot for Kelly’s welfare since that Tuesday in the doldrums. Mother was barely a memory. Daniel had got his assed kicked by a group of men the police described as ‘professionals’. Word was that even the Cynic Scene had closed its doors over issues with a liquor license that had materialized overnight. But - most importantly - Mr. Abbot had arranged it so that Kelly hadn’t needed to take the Milan internship after all.
“Now…before I give you leave to clear the table you USE YOUR TONGUE…and then LOOK UP into my eyes when it’s time for me to cum…then you fucking CRADLE MY LOAD in your filthy mouth until I give you permission to swallow…and then you waltz over there to the other side of this table and LICK CLEAN EACH AND EVERY CRUSTY morsel of maple syrup off of Sara’s breasts and nipples. Or I’m going to lose my temper slut……”
Kelly did all these things and more. Kelly embraced her emancipation. Life was good here. Very little sunlight, for sure…but her ‘three squares’ were hot, wholesome and nutritious. No spiders, no bed bugs, no Daniel. Life was straightforward under Mr. Abbot’s tutelage. Kelly had in fact done so well as a sex slave that Abbot’s men had ceased torturing her only six days after her kidnapping. And Sara hadn’t been used for anal sex in over a month.
A few moments later - when her Owner’s back was turned - Kelly brought herself up from her knees…flicked away a speck of cum from one of her eyelashes…and adjusted the contours of her sexy legs and the heft of her pale breasts atop the humiliating heels she’d inherited from Sara. Performing the role of dogsbody to a tee, Kelly noted how the mingling tastes of Mr. Abbot’s sperm and the maple syrup that had been drying for the better part of an hour upon Sara’s torso made for a lovely menu of submission, servitude and simplicity.
“Clean this place up. Then take the lesser whore to your cage and have her give you the once-over with HER mouth. PUSSY AND ASS! Understand? I’ll expect a full report before dinner. If you ladies hear ‘voices’ between now and then just be advised the lads brought in a pair of sluts from the campus last night. And - as you know from experience - they’re having a grand time getting the new girls into the right frame of mind. LICK HER NIPPLES CLEAN WHORE!”
Kelly licked. Kelly cleared. Kelly cleaned. And then immediately after escorted nineteen year old Sara Wilkerson to her twin bed within the small cage that represented her temporary haven from Tuesdays in this wonderful place. A place where submission wiped away physical pain. A place where Sara could sob her heart out and still see the vital importance in sucking Kelly’s vagina and anus to a state of immaculate cleanliness.
“Baby…I think I look good in your heels. Old Man Abbot can’t keep his eyes off my legs Sara girl. Baby we got it made in the shade! Two or three years…four, tops…and we’ll be free again. But I tell you what Sara…I’m going to enjoy all this attention and all this power until that day comes. Now…girl…do what Mr. Abbot said and give your Kelly a deep, deep butt shine. USE YOUR TONGUE WHORE!!”
