Training Kitty

Instead of cutting me to the core, her words inflamed my desires. I wanted to cum. Oh, I needed it so bad.

"Oh God!" Ashley moaned as her cunt spasmed in orgasm. "Keep at it. Oh shit don't stop. Fuck-fuck-fuck-"

* * *

Later, the two young women sat chatting, discussing my slavery as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"And when I caught the little bitch fingering there in the bathroom, fingering herself like there was no tomorrow... without permission. I decided then and there to bell my little kitty-kitty."

Betsy idly fingered my clit and tossed the bell to and fro, while I struggled to remain standing.

"Now at home, she isn't allowed panties or behind closed doors. The only sound of the bell I want to here, is a slow jingling sound of a little kitty-kitty working and cleaning. Not THIS sound."

She suddenly worked my clit. Not the idle teasing. But, purposeful. I moaned. My knees buckled. So close!

. . . and then she stopped.

"You know better Kitty. Get out your appraisal booklet."

I could hardly move. My body had turned into jelly. Sexually deprived and needful jelly. But somehow I managed to reach into the top drawer and pull out a small black journal. Could I really do this? I had done it often enough for Ashley, but never in front of anyone else. There was only one way to find out. I knelt down in front of Ashley and with trembling fingers; I opened the journal to the bookmark.

"No, you stupid tramp," Ashley said. "Go over to Betsy. She'll be conducting your appraisal today."

Horrified at the implication. I glanced over at Betsy. She sat grinning like a crocodile.

"Mith Morgan - pleath!"

"Then put it back in the desk. We'll try again in a month or so."

I tried to blink back the tears, but they fell like rain. I wasn't crying at Ashley's cruelty, but at my own failed will to resist. I could leave - it was my choice. She would make me pay, but could she really do worse than this?

"No, Mith..." I struggled with the words. I said what I always said. "I'll - I'll do it."

I walked over to Betsy, my eyes downcast at my feet, knelt, and handed her the journal.

"You'll have to tell her how to do it dummy," Ashley said. "She can't read your mind."

Betsy already had her legs crossed, which made matters easier. I finally looked up to Betsy and said, "You turn your footh like this." I took hold of her foot and turned it so that it was facing straight out. Kissed her expensive high heeled shoe once, and then slipped it off.

...and then I proceeded to mount it.

She jerked her foot away. "What the hell?"

I could feel my cheeks burning. "This is the way I have to do ith," I implored. "Pleath."

"That's the only way she is permitted to orgasm," Ashley said. "Provided she hasn't totally failed my expectations for her work performance."

"Gross!" Betsy giggled, squirming, her foot kept moving, keeping me from finding purchase. "It feels like a wet clam on my foot."

"There IS a wet clam on your foot," Ashley said.

"I don't want my shoes to smell like this slut's cunt," Betsy said.

"I'll clean ith ma'am aftherward," I replied.

"With her tongue," Ashley finished with a laugh.

When Betsy finally stopped squirming, I moved into position, my wet slit over the bridge of her foot, my hands holding her knee. I looked up expectantly. "Now you read my appraithal and dethermine if I'm allowed to - to," I sought find the word.

"Say it," Betsy said.

"H-h-hump your footh," I stammered.

Betsy's eyes gleamed. "This is so wicked," she said, looking at the journal.

"It says here you were caught twice bending at the knee and not at the waist," Betsy said.

"Yes ma'am. I'll try - I'll try to do betther." But it was so hard sometimes. Exposing myself like some sort of slut to everyone who might be behind me at the moment.

"You make her do that?" Betsy asked Ashley.

"Of course."

"And look at this." Betsy said. "Oh this is so hot. It says here that you aren't showing proper enthusiasm for your sexual duties. Your tongue is like a worthless wet noodle."

"I love . . ." I took a breath and continued. "Licking Mith Morgan. I'll do better, I promith."

"Stop your humping." Betsy said. "Why did you hesitate when you said that? It doesn't sound like you like it."

"I do," I lied. Unable to stimulate myself on her foot, my humps bucked the air nonetheless, trying to find purchase. "I like ith. I - love ith."

"You buy any dyke videos?" Betsy said, totally catching me off guard.

I looked up in puzzlement.

"Videos dumbass, you know, movies," Betsy replied. "Someone who loves cunt so much ought enjoy movies about it. Ought to get some really good ideas on how to suck a pussy properly."

Horrified at the idea and caught like a deer in the headlights, I responded with the truth. "No."

"That's a good idea Betsy," Ashley. "We'll stop by the video store on the way home and she can go in and rent one. Mmmmm-maybe I'll let her do it every day on the way home. She's going to get such a reputation."

"Maybe you can let her have a girlfriend," Betsy continued. "That would be something."

"I don't think so," Ashley said. "I don't want her getting any ideas of running off. Besides, I like knowing she's walking around steaming in her own sauces, if you know what I mean."

"That's the best part," said Betsy. "All you have to do is use one of those internet dating sites and you can find her a new companion every week. They could date at home, where you can keep an eye on the two lovebirds A little kissing and a little heavy petting is all she'd be allowed. I remember when I was a freshman in high school and that was all I could do with my boyfriend. God, it was sexual torture."

"I like the thought of that," Ashley said. "The only thing better than one horny little slut, are two horny little sluts."

"Would you like that little girl? Would you like to have a little play girlfriend? A little pretend girlfriend for you to play kissypoo and little feelypoo games?"

Betsy kept moving her foot, teasing me, taunting me, forcing me to answer. "Yes. Oh God yes"

"You are going to be such a little cunt tease, won't that be fun?" She took off her panties and hitched her skirt up. I could smell the musky scent of her very aroused and wet sex. As she drew me to her, she placed her foot under my sex. This was my second encounter with another woman. I instinctively began to lick. Lick and hump her foot like some depraved sex maniac.

"I said, won't it," Betsy said, pulling me away briefly.

"Yeth," I answered. I kept humping her foot. No longer caring what I said or how I looked.

"Say it."

"I'll be a good little cunth teath."

"What movie will you buy tonight, muff divers or the no boys allowed club?

"No boyth allowed."

"Are you sure?" She pulled her foot away again. "I think you want the other don't you?"

"Muff Divers. I'll rent - I'll rent Muff Divers."

"Will you suck your girl friend's hot little tongue? Will you feel up her boobies? Tell her how pretty she is?"

"Yeth. Yeth." I rode her foot, now slick with my juices. Meanwhile I licked her sex with renewed vigor. She ground against me and pulled me in tight by my pigtails.

"Fuck but you are a good pussy licker. I'm gonna cum real soon. You want to cum little dummy? You really want to have a cummy-cum?"

Meanwhile Betsy had taken hold of my tight-hard nipples and pinched them painfully. I groaned into her sex and continued licking.... Continued humping her foot.

I road her foot like it was a wild bronco. I was all I could do to drink the copious juices that flowed from her sex.

"Fuck - cum - cum - cumming!" she cried, tugging my nipples even harder.

And so was I. Like a flower, my orgasm blossomed; turning my sex into a hot ball of pleasure.

I rode her and licked her. My face and makeup in shambles from her very wet sex. We sat entangled, the cold air from the office cooling our hot bodies.

"Did you girls enjoy yourselves?" Ashley asked.

"Yeth Miss Morgan."

"How about you little Miss? Look what a mess you made. A dirty wet little mess.." she said more firmly. "What will be your name? How do you feel about Wetsy? Betsy Wetsy?"

"I don't play that game," Betsy said. "Besides, I don't mind being licked, but I'm not into girls."

"I don't recall asking you what you were into," Ashley said, then showed her the video recorder, before locking it in her desk drawer.

"You've made a perfect mess out of Kitty's face. How about cleaning it off . . . with your tongue."

"Ashley," Betsy began, a bit of a tremble now noticeable in her voice. "Stop playing. We are friends."

"Soon to be even better friends. Now I suggest you do what I say, or I'll be sure this tape falls into the wrong hands. How would you like that Betsy? Not much chance of being a manager with a tape like this going around, is it? Your father is in politics isn't he? He's a republican, isn't he? I wonder what the voters will think when they see this flick on the internet?"

"Now lick," Ashley said sternly.

Betsy stuck out her tongue and licked my face. She turned to the side, suppressing her gag reflex. I remembered the same thing happening to me, my first time.

She tried it again. This time succeeding.

"I liked your idea of a playmate for Kitty. Not bad for a bimbo like you, but I don't like the idea of her flouncing around getting who knows what. I think you'll make a better - how did you put it? Kissypoo and feelypoo friend. I can't wait to get you dressed and belled."

"Kitty, don't sit there like a bump on a log while she licks around your mouth dimwit. Suck on her tongue."

I kissed her. Sucking on her tongue. I could taste her salty tears mixed with the taste of her musky sex.

"Now play feelypoo with those big boobies. You definitely came out on big end of the stick there, didn't you? Poor Betsy Wetsy isn't going to have half as much fun with your small pointies is she?"

"No," I replied. I could feel myself getting turned on again. I kissed Betsy harder. My hips bucked, as my sex sought out stimulation.

"There'll be none of that Kitty. Not until next appraisal. Then well see which one of you dimwits has earned the right to hump my sexy feet."

Our kiss broke mutually. I stared into Betsy's tear stained face and she into mine. I saw the glint in her eye, and knew that it was mirrored in my own. This was no play-mate. No pretend girlfriend. Sure, we may pretend to be girlfriends when ordered. We would kiss and fondle or whatever else may be required. But, this was no friend. This was a competitor. And come next month, I would do whatever was necessary to be the one humping Ashley's feet.

The End

*

This was my final story. Thanks for the fun.