Annabel and Mr. Nash Pt. 07

Aware that Annabel always suffered worst when being humiliated in front of her former peers, Nash had deliberately kept her in the dark as to her destination today - and from the look of panic in her eyes, the surprise had obviously had the intended effect.

With a little coaxing from Alastair, Annabel reluctantly got out of the car. It was quite extraordinary that even after all of the demeaning acts she had been forced to perform in front of her old chums, she was still terrified of facing them again.

In a way, Alastair supposed, this new subservient role was probably worse for her than the obscene sexual displays she had already enacted. Here she was, the former 'lady of the manor', waited on hand and foot her entire life, now being sent to work as a lowly skivvy for her old rival. No doubt, Helen would make her suffer every bit as much as Nash and Mrs. Craddock did - perhaps even more so.

Alastair rang the bell and turned to survey Annabel's latest get-up. With the clear intention of making her an object of ridicule in front of her trendy former friends, Mrs. Craddock had dressed her in a plain gray frock that buttoned all the way up to her neck. The hem however, had been cut away as raggedly as her hair, stopping at the tops of her thighs. She was wearing white cotton panties which were just visible from behind, but, as was all too evident from the jutting outline of her nipples, no bra, and on her sockless feet were a pair of cheap plastic, buckle-down sandals. With her terrible haircut completing the effect, this once fashion-conscious heiress, would be the laughing stock - a fact which clearly wasn't lost on Annabel, judging from her crimson cheeks and anxious, round eyes.

The door swung open and Helen said, "Ah, about time."

Helen was dressed in a pair of powder blue shorts and a yellow shirt which she had tied up to reveal her flat midriff, and Alastair thought she looked absolutely radiant.

Pity she's not another one of Nash's victims, he mused. Then again, if the old bastard ever gets an opportunity, I have no doubt he wouldn't hesitate to ensnare her!

"Good afternoon, Miss Helen," Alastair said, slotting neatly into his professional demeanor. "Your hired help is at your disposal for the rest of the day. Naturally, she will obey your every command - no matter what it might be."

The implications of his words were not lost on Annabel, and he noticed that her legs were quivering. Helen gave her an amused look and said, "Good heavens, Annabel, whatever have you done to your hair?"

Almost cringing with embarrassment, Annabel merely stared at the floor.

"I understand that you'll be joining us this afternoon, Barclay," Helen said.

"As an observer, of course. If Annabel misbehaves in any way, I am to report it back to Darius who will arrange severe corrective measures for her."

"Well, everybody is waiting on the patio," Helen said chirpily. "Shall we?"

Now Annabel did look up, her ample chest undulating rapidly. It was amazing to Alastair that even after everything that had happened to her, Annabel still couldn't get over her sense of abject shame every time she was publically degraded. By now she knew Josh and Trent on a very intimate level, and only a few weeks ago, they had looked on as she had performed naked for them, first as a show pony, and then as a collared dog! And yet, here she was trembling with fear at the thought of them seeing her in this demeaning get up!

They followed Helen through the house, but when she saw her old friends assembled on the back patio, Annabel froze in the French window. Alastair pinched the exposed lower half of one of her buttocks, making her jump.

"Come on," he said, giving her light shove in the small of her back. "It's show time."

Chapter Eighty-Five

Just as Annabel had dreaded, everyone was here - Trent, and Josh, who had already defiled her on two previous occasions, as well as Drew and Samantha, who had also borne witness to her humiliation at the pool party. The only missing member of the old gang was Alisha of course, who, unbeknown to the others, was now going through her own personal hell at Nash's cruel hands. But worst of all, Bobby, her ex-boyfriend, was also present, and was now regarding her with an expression of sneering contempt.

Why is he here? Annabel moaned inwardly.

The last time she had been paraded like a performing animal in front of them at Eddie Yeats' birthday party, Bobby hadn't been there - which was understandable given the degrading level that the woman he had once loved had been reduced to. But today here he was, obviously with Helen's blessing, a willing spectator to yet more of Annabel's pain and degradation.

Now of, course, since Nash had forced Annabel to dump him, Bobby had become Helen's boyfriend. Seeing him now, Annabel felt a stab of jealousy, knowing that while she was forced to share ugly old Nash's bed each night, Helen and Bobby had been dating like a smart, regular couple.

"Well, lookee here," Josh smirked. "It's Cinderella!"

Despite her best efforts, Annabel could feel her cheeks burning. She was becoming accustomed to being made to look and act like a moron, but to have to perform in front of her old friends again was, she knew, going to be another huge blow to her already-shattered self-esteem.

"Did you cut your hair yourself?" Samantha tittered.

Standing foolishly before them, it finally hit home just how far she had fallen. They were all studying her with a mixture of amusement and pity - the once proud Annabel whom they had all envied was now nothing more than their submissive plaything, and with a heavy heart she knew that they were going to get their pound of flesh today.

Helen, who was still standing beside her, reached across and pinched Annabel's left nipple through her dress, causing her to flinch. "Dear me," Helen said. "You're all hard! Are you excited to be here?"

Because of her unwanted enhanced libido, Annabel could not dispute the fact that her nipples were indeed erect - Nash kept her in a constant state of arousal these days - and the way they were straining against her frock made it plain for all to see!

"Not wearing a bra either," Helen noted. "Do you like showing off your titties in public?"

Blushing furiously, Annabel looked at her feet and shook her head.

"What's that? We couldn't hear you."

"No," Annabel mumbled.

Helen suddenly grabbed Annabel's shorn hair and jerked her face upward. "You will address me as Mistress Helen from now on!" she snapped. "And that goes for everybody else here. It's either 'mistress' or 'master', do you understand?"

"Ye... yes, Mistress Helen!" Annabel gasped.

"Good. Now I'll ask you again. Do you like showing off your boobs?"

It was useless. There was only one answer that Helen was going to accept. Yet again, Annabel was going to have to collaborate in her own debasement.

Her eyes stinging, Annabel uttered, "Yes, Mistress Helen."

"You see?" Helen announced to her keen audience. "I told you she's always been a slut."

Annabel bit her lower lip and tried not to make eye contact with any of them. Quite apart from the shame and despair that she was experiencing, to her horror, she suddenly needed to visit the bathroom. God forbid that she should wet herself in front of everybody now! While she was fretting over this, Helen produced a pair of scissors from her back pocket and brandished them in front of Annabel's face.

"I see you've already made some crude adjustments to your frock," Helen said, lifting up the ragged hem so that everyone could see Annabel's white cotton panties. "So I'm sure you won't mind if I make a couple more."

It was as much as Annabel could do to keep her hands by her sides as Helen pulled the front of her dress out and then snipped a hole in it. As the material drew back into place, one of Annabel's hardened teats poked out - much to the mirth of everyone watching.

Helen then repeated the procedure on the other side, so that now both of Annabel's nipples were absurdly exposed. But Helen wasn't done yet. Tugging on one of the openings again, she deftly worked the scissors around until the hole was a good five inches across. Then she pulled Annabel's nipple, making her gasp, and worked her entire breast out into the open air. Helen quickly did the same to Annabel's other breast, leaving them both bobbing comically free in the open air.

Trying to block her audience's laughter, Annabel wondered how she was possibly going to be able to get through this afternoon. After months of abuse and torture at the hands of Nash and his cronies, it was still the public humiliation that hurt her the most.

"Now," Helen said, "we need to do something about your ridiculous shoes. Take them off."

Aware of her naked breasts hanging obscenely downward, Annabel bent and unbuckled the cheap plastic sandals as instructed. While she was doing this, Helen went over to the gravel pathway that encircled the house and scooped up a handful of small, sharp stones.

"This will help you to stay focused while you work," Helen said, dropping several stones into each of the shoes. "Now you can put them back on again."

Miserably, Annabel started to slip her right foot into its sandal, but Helen said, "Not that one. Put it into the left shoe."

Somebody sniggered, and Annabel briefly looked up at Helen, but knowing that Barclay was on hand to report any acts of disobedience, she despondently forced her right foot into the wrong shoe. It took some effort, and her toes were pinched painfully, but she finally managed to get it buckled up. After she had, with equal difficulty, succeeded in squeezing her left foot into the right shoe, Helen ordered her to straighten up. Now there was physical pain to add to her emotional hurt as the hard pieces of gravel bit into the soft, under flesh of her compacted feet.

"God, she looks so stupid," Trent chuckled.

"Why don't you try them out?" said Helen triumphantly. "Take a walk around the pool."

Feeling their eyes boring into her, Annabel winced as she set of on her absurd and uncomfortable little journey. The shoes were so tight around her toes, that combined with the painful stabs of the stones, she could manage little more than a tentative hobble.

"Come on!" Helen called after her as she made her way awkwardly around the pool. "You're moving like an old woman! We haven't got all day!"

As terrible as this current ordeal already was, Annabel unexpectedly found herself thinking back to the last time she was here, when Nash had made her behave like a childish idiot, culminating in her stripping off her bikini in front of everyone, then being spanked, and finally submitting to that degrading 'spit-roasting' by Trent and Josh. On that occasion, everyone had been initially shocked at Annabel's dramatic retardation. Now they were all well prepared for it, and were also evidently relishing the prospect of a long, and for Annabel, miserable afternoon.

Chapter Eighty-Six

Helen watched in delight as her onetime rival shuffled around the pool, her red face etched in pain, and her large, wobbling breasts, ludicrously poking out of her dress. In all the years she had spent in Annabel's shadow, she had never remotely dreamed that she could wield such power over the formerly stuck-up bitch. And boy, was she going to make the most of it!

She looked around at her friends who were all avidly following Annabel's labored progress. Judging from their faces, this new-found power had conjured up similar sadistic urges. She had no doubt in her mind that, no matter how despicable the acts Annabel would be forced to perform today, nobody was going to object to them.

Annabel finally completed her circuit of the pool and stood meekly before her tormentors. Unable to look any of them in the eye, she kept her clenched fists by her sides and stared at her comical footwear.

Helen reclined on the chaise-longue next to Bobby and said, "You are going to have to work faster than that, you lazy girl. From now on, you will carry out your orders at the double. If you keep anybody waiting too long, you will suffer the consequences. Understood?"

Head down, Annabel nodded, and then remembered to utter, "Yes, Mistress Helen."

"And you will always look at whoever you are addressing!" Helen barked.

Slowly, Annabel raised her face in Helen's direction. Despite the deep servile conditioning she had received, there was no denying the slight glint of venom showing in her eyes. So much the better as far as Helen was concerned!

"Good," Helen said. "Now come over here and kneel down beside me."

Annabel nervously approached her ex-friend, and then gingerly dropped to her knees. Helen rummaged around in a bag beside her chaise-longue and produced two little silver bells. Alastair leaned forward for a better look and saw that they were both attached to wicked little serrated clips, which Helen proceeded to attach to each of Annabel's puffed-up nipples. Annabel drew in a hiss of breath as each clip bit down on her delicate nubs, and from the way they were being squeezed flat, Alastair guessed that her attention had now been momentarily drawn away from her sore and crushed feet.

"There," Helen said, patting Annabel on the head. "Now we can't lose you. Consuela has prepared some finger-food, which you will find in the kitchen. Bring it out to the patio table."

Looking almost grateful for the chance to spend a moment away from everybody's scrutiny, Annabel rose and started to walk gingerly towards the French windows.

"Annabel," Helen said, feigning weariness. "What did I just say about being lazy? Run, damn you!"

*

As Annabel sped past him, biting her lip from the pain in her tortured feet, with her tinkling breasts bouncing crazily, Alastair realized that this just might turn out to be one of Annabel's most terrible ordeals so far. Helen was a real bitch, and she was obviously deriving a great deal of sadistic, and even sexual pleasure from her erstwhile antagonist's debasement. He himself was sporting a hard-on that was impossible to conceal, but if he had guessed correctly, Annabel's 'duties' this afternoon would almost certainly involve erotically servicing all of the men present at some stage. All except Bobby, of course - Helen was definitely not going to allow that!

While Annabel carried plates of food back and forth between the kitchen and the pool patio, her ex-peers settled into casual conversation as if this was any other normal weekend gathering. Watching them, Alastair observed that although they were pretending to ignore her, every so often one or the other would shoot her a furtive look as she passed. It was a similar atmosphere to Eddie Yeats' birthday bash prior to Annabel's 'dog and pony' performances - Alastair recognized that they were trying to make her feel like a worthless nonentity, even though she was in reality the star attraction. It was a cruel game of role-play, and despite the fact that Annabel was the reason they were all here, it was important to keep up the pretense that she really was nothing more than the hired help.

In acting out his part as Annabel's chaperone, Alastair felt no need to join in with their play-acting, and he contented himself with feasting his eyes on Annabel's absurdly-clad figure as she hurriedly served their food and drink. As she jogged around, breathing somewhat heavily now, her movements became increasingly awkward and jerky as she attempted to alleviate the pressure on her feet. This had the effect of making her exposed breasts bounce around even more wildly than ever, filling the air with the merry tinkling of her little silver bells.

*

The bodily anguish was bad enough - the searing fire in her nipples, the agonizing stones digging into the soles of her feet, the stabbing pain in her cruelly squashed toes - but it was their laughter and their juvenile, mocking remarks that almost succeeding in reducing Annabel to tears.

"She looks like a little milk cow with those little bells!"

"Her udders are big enough!"

"I'd swear they've grown bigger since last time. I wonder if she's ready for milking?"

"Look at her shoes. Doesn't she know her right from her left?"

"I always knew she was a bimbo!"

Intellectually, deep inside of her, she knew that she was the victim here, but who could deny the truth of their hurtful comments? With her ruined hair, her ridiculous dress, her painful, silly-looking plastic footwear, and her naked, jingling breasts, she really had to look imbecilic beyond belief!

And she was allowing them to belittle her, wasn't she? There was the promise of money and freedom somewhere in the future - isn't that why she was in this shameful situation right now? She did have a choice, didn't she? If so, then maybe she deserved everything that they did to her.

When everybody had received their first drinks, Helen said to her, "Stand to attention, legs apart and hands behind your head, until somebody requires your services."

Under a black cloud of despair, her nipples and feet aching terribly, and the growing pressure in her bladder reaching worrying proportions, Annabel humbly complied. Feeling utterly valueless, she watched her erstwhile friends chatting contentedly together, a fashionable crowd of young men and women without a care in the world, of which, once upon a time, she had been a very central part.

Chapter Eighty-Seven

"Hey you, I need a refill!" said Trent, waving his glass.

Annabel didn't move at first, and by the time she had registered that she was being summoned, it was too late to avoid Helen seizing the opportunity.

"Daydreaming on the job? I think that calls for a punishment, don't you, guys?"

There was a general chorus of assent as Helen rummaged in her bag again, and then pulled out a red leather flogger. Alastair could only guess as to what other kinky delights the bag contained, but it was certainly evident that Helen had indulged in a little online shopping in preparation for today's fun and games.

"Trent, as you are the injured party, would you mind administering the spanking?"

"It would be my pleasure," Trent said, taking the flogger. "Come on sweetie, bend over."

Annabel looked aghast at the flogger in his hand, and then pleadingly at Alastair.

"Don't look at me," he grinned. "These good people are you employers today."

Her already flushed cheeks turning even redder, Annabel turned around and half-heartedly offered Trent her rump.

"Not like that!" Helen snapped. "Bend right over and touch your toes."

Annabel let out a barely audible breath, and then did as she was told, her trimmed dress rising up over her buttocks and exposing her white cotton panties.

"Christ! I'd almost forgotten what a lovely butt you have," Josh sighed.

Alastair had to agree that she presented a most delectable sight, with her ass in the air, and her naked tits dangling in front of her face. Even her ex-boyfriend Bobby was leaning in for a closer look!

"Give her six of the best, Trent," Helen said. "And make sure she remembers them."

There was a loud crack as the six tails of the flogger wrapped themselves around Annabel's thighs.

"Ow!" Annabel shrieked, her head coming up and one of her hands reaching around to her behind.

"Stay in position," Helen warned her.

Thwack!

This time Trent had a better aim, and the leather tails snaked around Annabel's ass cheeks. Again, the poor girl howled in pain. The third and fourth strokes followed in rapid succession, and now Annabel was shaking her lovely round ass, her breaths coming in choked sobs.

Swish!

Number five landed on her smooth thighs again, leaving behind a series of pink welts.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Annabel?" asked Helen.

"I.. I'm sorry... for being so lazy..." Annabel sniveled.

"Good. It had better not happen again. Last one, Trent."