You Never Know

bylipsticked©

I listened in disbelief. My world was crumbling. I couldn't believe it. Denial. Mistress Susan had outlined a life of complete servitude. She seemed so matter of fact that I knew this wasn't the first time she had done this. Everything was planned. Rules were in place. Special items ordered. I was the last piece in the puzzle.

The doorbell rang and I froze in shock. The outside world. Mistress Susan pulled me along behind her, using my cock as her leash. I hurried to keep up. She looked through the spy hole for a moment, obviously recognized the caller, and opened the door. I tried to hide behind the open door, but was pulled out for inspection. Tall grey-haired women stood next to Mistress Susan. She wore a black skirt, white high-collared shirt and high heels. Her thin lips were covered with blood-red lipstick. She almost looked like a strict elementary school teacher.

Mistress Susan looked at her and said, "Mother, I'm so glad you're here. I have the perfect apartment across the hall for you to live. And you can help me train my new bitch. Between us, she won't have a moment free to worry her pretty little head." She pulled me forward by my cock and said, "Isn't that right, Stephanie? Say hello to my mother, Madame Roget."

Before I even had a chance to open my mouth, Madame Roget slapped my face. Her hand felt as hard as her daughter's. "What are you doing on your feet! Get on your knees immediately." I dropped as soon as she gave the command. Almost without thinking. "Now say hello properly, slave." I opened my mouth to welcome her, and barely got out the first word, when she slapped me again. "That's not the proper way for a bitch to say hello to its owner. Obviously, Susan hasn't had the time to train you correctly. I'll remedy that. Now, crawl behind me, lift my skirt and put press your face into my ass. Lick my entire ass crack and then lovingly kiss and rim my asshole. When you are finished, bow behind me with your head touching the floor. That's the proper welcome I expect." I crawled as instructed and put my head under her skirt. She was not wearing panties, only a garter belt and nylons. I pressed my face forward and started using my tongue. She was very sweaty and I licked her clean. Then I worshipped her asshole and returned to a kneeling position behind her.

"Not bad for the first time. I think it's a good thing that I arrived when I did. You obviously need full-time training and Susan will be busy with clients and working the rest of the building." I looked up in amazement at the mother-daughter dominant duo. This morning I was a free man. This afternoon I was the slut-slave property of an overweight unattractive woman and her grey-haired elderly mother. You never know.

It has been almost three months since I became the property of Mistress Susan and her mother, Madame Roget. My former life seems like a dream, as if it belonged to another person. And I guess it did. Everything Mistress Susan told me the first day has come true. I am her bitch, and her mother's also. They both use me on a regular basis. Madame Roget moved into my apartment. She has the bedroom. My other room, formerly my office, is now the office/gym. I sleep chained to the foot of either Mistress Susan's or Madame Roget's bed. Available for nightly toilet service. And of course the morning and evening cunt-sucking ritual. I never know which dominatrix will use me that night. I am still kept in a state of confusion and have gotten used to following orders immediately and without the slightest hint of objection. They both want me to keep working, so during the day I am chained (literally) to my desk. Since my profession as a graphic artist allowed me to work from my home, my clients did not suspect my new living arrangement. Any pay went directly to my new owners. Mistress Susan has several slaves whose income she controls. Aside from sessions as a professional dominatrix, both she and her mother have made themselves wealthy by accumulating financially successful submissives and taking control of their incomes. I never realized the depth of the information that Mistress Susan had accumulated prior to her conquest of me in her apartment. She had copies of my tax returns, client list, bank statements, resume, medical records and internet membership sites. She played with me like an angler landing a fish. I never had a chance. The same was true about the other people in the building she mentioned. Her words at the time were:

"You're not the only bitch I'll get from this building. I have my eye on the brunette in Apt 23. She's almost ready. I give her another two weeks before she's on her knees here. Then there's the guy in 36. He practically salivates whenever I walk by."

The brunette is Apt 23 was indeed on her knees before Mistress Susan in two weeks. Her name was Carol; now she answers to "cunt". Even knowing what was going to happen, I still was astounded at the speed and effectiveness of Mistress Susan's domination. She had gathered considerable background on Carol's finances and sexual preferences. She even had the private notes from Carol's psychological therapist. Apparently Carol had one lesbian experience in college, but was strictly heterosexual. Mistress Susan changed that quickly. Carol was no match for her physically (neither was I), and the threat of continued pain made Carol very compliant. Her bondage was more severe. She was tied with ropes in very uncomfortable positions, usually leaving her cunt, asshole or tits available for easy access. Her tits (36c) were squeezed in tight rubber bands and her nipples pierced and hung with weights. Her cunt was filled with all manner of objects - broom handles, coke bottles, flashlights, cucumbers, and her asshole was abused in a similar manner. Her mouth was assaulted and she almost always had a gag or dildo in it. She was forced to swallow pills that made her more malleable. I have no idea what they were. After three days, "Carol the Cunt" was added to the list of possessions of the Roget family.

"The guy in 36" was no problem at all. He was practically a slave even before he walked into the trap. He was not a prize specimen, but he did have a trust fund income that made him a worthwhile addition. After the first day, I never saw him again. He was sent to another state, to one of the Roget's relatives. I have no idea where, who or why.

Madame Roget continued my training whenever I was not with Mistress Susan. I now cleaned both apartments on a daily basis. I also cooked all meals, which were eaten in my old apartment. The food was ordered over the internet from companies like grocery.com. It was always left outside the apartment door. I became adept at cooking meals to their taste. I would serve all meals as their waitress and eat the leftovers on my knees from a dog dish. I was not allowed to use my hands. I was given water the same way.

Madame Roget decided to pierce my ears for earrings. Mistress Susan liked the way the earrings looked so much that she pierced my nipples and cockhead. Small gold rings were locked in place. Chains linked the nipple rings together and a separate one hung from the cockring. I was locked to my desk to work by attaching both those chains to an eyebolt in the desk. I could not leave my desk until my owner released me. I was also branded. Madame Roget showed me the branding iron. It had been in the Roget family for three generations. It looked like a cattle brand except it was smaller and said "Property of Roget". The pain was excruciating when the heated iron was seared into my upper right asscheek.

I am always dressed as a sissyslut. I have become proficient at makeup. My real hair is growing out, and soon I will forego the wig for my own styled hair. My body is kept free of all other hair. Even my balls are shaved smooth. My cock is kept in a cage made of steel wire. It is locked in place, but prevents me from having an erection. I can piss or be tortured through the cage. The chain from the cockring easily passes through the cage. I have become proficient in walking in high heels. The pain was incredible at first, but I eventually learned to accept it. Three inch heels are for everyday use and the six inch stilettos are for "playtime". My asshole has been trained to accept larger and larger dildos. A buttplug is usually locked in place to keep me expanded. Mistress Susan uses my mouth on a continual basis. I have become skilled at sucking her cunt regardless of the position in which I must perform. I am even used as her douche. I fill my mouth with soapy water and force in into her cunt. I must do this until her cunt is clean. The soapy water I swallow usually makes me sick, but that is not an accepted as excuse.

Madame Roget on the other hand was not as physically overwhelming, but much more of a disciplinarian. I was always bound, and dressed as her slut. The slightest infraction was excuse for me to be bent over, wrists locked to ankles, ass up in the air and caned until I cried. Another favorite of my owner was to order me lie on the coffee table, tie my wrists and ankles to the table legs, remove my cock cage, and whip my cock and balls. She loved to watch my balls swell. The third punishment involved the round dining table. I was forced, face-down on the table. Eyebolts had been attached to the bottom of the tabletop to allow my wrists and ankles to be tied. The table was expandable by placing additional leaves in the top after it had been pulled open. Madame Roget liked to pull the top open, lay me across it perpendicular to the opening, my cock and balls between the open leaves. The top was then pushed together with my cock and balls hanging down. A heavy weight was attached to the cockring. She could fuck my ass or beat it, make me suck her strap-on, or beat my balls by flicking her cane under the table, hitting me from below. I was helpless as the weight attached to the cockring made any movement painful.

If someone had told me six months ago that I would ever eat shit, I would have laughed out loud. I'm not laughing now. Madame Roget considers shit a part of a slave's diet. I didn't want to do it the first time she gave me the order. By the time she was finished convincing me, I was begging to be allowed to eat it. Now I don't say a thing. I just get on my knees, crawl to the bowl and pick out a piece. I think the next step is her feeding it directly into my mouth from her asshole. She already had a portable toilet seat in the bathroom to be used when she feels like sitting down to piss, but still wants it in my mouth. She uses my tongue as toilet paper when she pisses or shits. Mistress Susan uses me as toilet paper also, but hasn't required me to eat her shit. Yet.

I have been in some sort of bondage every minute since Mistress Susan collared me. I am rarely alone. Either Mistress Susan or her mother has been close by. Every second of my day is occupied with their tasks. I make no decisions. I have no schedule. I only follow their orders.

They seem pleased with my progress. I have given up trying to resist. They are both so overwhelming - physically and psychologically. They understand me better than I understand myself. Maybe I really always needed this. I don't know that I wanted it, but again, I have no choice. And now I can't picture my life any other way than under their control.

I occasionally see "Carol the Cunt" in Mistress Susan's apartment. She is usually bound, blindfolded and dressed like a cheap whore - heavy lipstick, skimpy tight clothes, and high-heeled shoes. Her arms are locked together behind her in a leather armbinder. It is a single tight leather tube that keeps both arms together and extended straight behind her. The position pushes her shoulder blades back and her tits out. It looks very uncomfortable. Carol never says a word. Her tits have clamps on the nipples which are removed periodically by one of her owners. Carol's pain is obvious as they pull the clamps off. When she is seated, her short skirt barely covers her cunt. Once, when I had gotten a bonus from an advertising client for an exceptionally good job, Mistress Susan removed my cockcage and had me stand in front of "Carol the Cunt". Mistress Susan didn't even say anything. She just snapped her fingers twice. At that signal, Carol immediately opened her mouth and leaned forward, searching for my cock. When she found it, she sucked like her life depended on my cumming. Perhaps it did. It felt so good, I didn't care who was doing it. I came very quickly. Mistress Susan pulled me back and re-attached the cockcage. Carol sat back in the chair. Mistress Susan patted her head, the way you would pat a dog.

"Save your energy for the party tonight." Mistress Susan told Carol. "If you do a good job, I'll let you suck my cunt tonight"

Carol spoke for the first time. "I will, I will" she promised with the first trace of enthusiasm. "I'll make you proud of me. I'll be the best bitch they every saw. I'll do anything for you."

"I know you will, cunt. You're mine." Mistress Susan said matter of fact.

It was hard to believe that Carol was the same woman who I met four months ago. That Carol was arrogant and snobbish. This Carol was a puppet. She clearly demonstrated the Roget family's power to capture, dominate and control.

I still had trouble grasping the extent of their empire. I got hints that Madame Roget had two other daughters, who were operating the same way as Mistress Susan. I had no idea of how many slaves they controlled or the profit generated. I did not even know how long the Roget's had been collecting slaves and their incomes. There can't be that many successful people who could be taken without questions being asked. It was true in my case, but I was different, or was I? The Rogets were certainly successful, didn't seem to worry about any authorities, and ran a professional operation. I didn't have time to worry about it. I was too busy performing my own tasks as their slut.

True to her word, Mistress Susan did use me for demonstrations, and rented me out for special parties. I don't know where the women came from, how they knew about the Roget's or their services. Two women were in Mistress Susan's apartment when I was led in by Madame Roget. I was completely decked out in my slut uniform and pulled me along in my 6 inch heels by the chain attached to my cockring. My hands were locked to the posture collar on my neck. A chain attached to my ankles forced me to take small mincing steps. My lipstick was thick and visible around the dildo protruding from my mouth. The vibrating dildo up my asshole was not visible, but a constant reminder to me. The rest of my attire was standard - bra with big inserts, garter belt, crotchless panties with my cockcage sticking out, nylon stockings, and blond wig. The conversation stopped when I minced in. The women were in their late fifties. Their figures were fleshy, but in fairly good shape. They were dressed conservatively and wore jewelry, which, if real, was very expensive. They did not say anything directly to me, but rather questioned Mistress Susan.

"Are you sure he's clean?" The blond asked.

(They would have been more concerned if Mistress Susan's apartment hadn't been immaculate considering her sloppy attire.)

Madame Roget answered. "Just call the slut, it. It's definitely not a 'he'. And yes, it's clean. I make sure of that myself."

They were not about to question someone who looked as severe and confident as Madame Roget on that score.

"Any limitations?" the brunette inquired.

Mistress Susan smirked, "None. If you break it, you bought it. If you want either my mother or myself along it will cost extra, but you might consider the show worth it. We're very creative."

"No, that's okay. I think we can use it just fine."

With that comment, Madame Roget pulled my chain and led me back into her (formerly my) apartment. Financial arrangements must have been finalized, because the next night I was dressed in new all-leather undergarments - bra, garter belt, neck collar, wrist and ankle cuffs. My hands were cuffed behind me and locking 6" stiletto shoes were locked on my feet. The two women I had seen previously came to pick me up. I saw that they were both dressed in all-leather outfits also. The blond had on thigh high boots with sharp-pointed spurs that made a noise when she moved. A long monk's cape was placed on my shoulders, the hood covering my head. The garment reached to the floor, hiding my heels. A leather blindfold was tightly fitted to my head. To check if I could see, Mistress Susan had one of the woman slap me. It took me by surprise, and my cheeks stung from the blow. I almost fell down. Since someone was holding taunt the chain attached to my cock, I could have been really injured. This was not a good omen for me. My cock cage was left off so they could use me any way they wanted.

The evening is a blur. I was given some drug that made everything seem unreal. I can't say much more about the evening other than I left, seated in the back seat of a car and returned in the truck, in the fetal position. Those women got their monies worth. My balls were swollen, my nipples were sore and throbbing, my asshole was on fire and I must have been covered in welts and heel-marks. There are a few clear memories. I remember spurs digging into my back as a woman locked my head with her thighs. She must have used my tongue for 5 orgasms. I'm sure she was the blond who picked me up. She whispered in my ear just before the trunk lid was closed, "When Susan is tired of you, you're mine. That's a promise."

I much preferred Mistress Susan and Madame Roget. Better the devil you know. It was the difference between owning something and leasing it. At least the Rogets wanted to use me long term, although Mistress Susan did say "You break it, you bought it." She thought of me as her property and had trained me to think of myself the same way.

Last week I made an interesting discovery. I overheard part of a conversation between Madame Roget and a trust officer at a bank. At least that's my guess. They were discussing someone's assets. After hearing that, it occurred to me that the Rogets might be getting information on whom to devour by learning about their trust funds or inheritances. Then they could narrow down the list to people who were alone and still further to those who had any submissive traits. It didn't tell me how they picked me, or some other people in the building, but it fit the guy in apt. 36. I didn't have a trust fund, but fit the other criteria. Then I remembered that my ex-wife had worked in a bank. Maybe she had mentioned my name to someone involved and they knew I would fit the rest of the "slave" profile. Maybe it was even on purpose. I'll never know. But at least it made some sense to me. Regardless of how it happened, I now belong completely to the Roget family. The combination of physical and mental torture, drugs, brutality, humiliation, sexual stimulation, conditioning and deprivation has changed me. My self-image is of a slut. I must obey my owners. It gives me pleasure to be used by my masters. I will do anything. There is no act too humiliating, nothing I will not do or have done to me. I am docile, submissive, obedient, and trained. Two women I never would have looked at twice, now are at the center of my universe. I long to worship their bodies, to eat and drink their waste, to be used for their pleasure and comfort. My bondage is unnecessary now. I wouldn't escape if I could. Where would I go. They have made me into Stephanie the Slut. I am their bitch.

Another four months have passed since I last wrote. More changes have taken place. Mistress Susan decided it was time to make more permanent changes to me. I was drugged and delivered to a clinic for some cosmetic surgery. I now have breast implants (36D), collagen injected lips, and a liposuction-narrowed waist. The physical recovery period was painful and intense. Mentally, I feel both humiliated and thrilled by my appearance. I am more useful to my owners and feel even more under their control.

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