tagNonConsent/ReluctanceHumiliated Ch. 03

Humiliated Ch. 03


Chapter 03

Forced into becoming a slut

Tracy felt so humiliated and inadequate she hung her head in shame.

Irene and the two other long-time friends were successful, with professional business careers. Even in college she had been the least bright among these rising stars. As a housewife she had always felt less worthy, though neither of them said anything. Her husband was far wealthier than the three friends, but this left her feeling like a kept woman. She often felt as though she were just a trophy wife, as he was seven years older.

The dreadful act, committed earlier, left her feeling distraught. Being laid so low, Tracy thought she deserved the cruel punishment, meted out by Irene. After such demeaning treatment, she felt thoroughly worthless.

Irene had joked about keeping her around the house, to amuse the household staff. A start in this direction had been made, when Irene's chauffeur roughly used her. She could hardly believe this had happened, but the proof was there, as his cum was still slick on her thighs.

She felt dirty and pathetic.

All her inhibitions, as a responsible wife and mother, had evaporated under an onslaught of abuse. Irene had her thinking of herself as a toy, to be played with and tormented. Irene's self-worth had sunk so low as to believe she was a mere sexual plaything, ready to be given to the household staff, just to keep them amused.

"Look at the state of you. You are such a dirty little slut. You're not good enough to be given to my staff to use," Irene shouted at her. "What have you got to say for yourself, slut?" Irene demanded.

"Sorry, mistress," Tracy whimpered. She tried to shut out everything, unable to think about those despicable acts she had performed. It was all too easy to believe she wasn't good enough for anything at all.

"Not good enough. Explain to me why I should keep your dirty little secret, and look after you," Irene asked.

"I'm really sorry mistress. I don't deserve your friendship. Please don't tell anyone what I did. Look after me, and I'll play your games, please, mistress" Tracy simpered.

"You'll play my games will you? Well, then, I'll keep you as my personal slut. While you obey me, I'll keep your secret. Do you promise to behave, dirty little slut?" Irene asked, with a devilish smile slitting her mouth.

"Yes mistress! I promise to do whatever you want, I'll obey you, honest! Thank you mistress, for letting me be your slut," Tracy snivelled, in complete submission.

Irene looked at her onetime friend, with a look of disdain. The dare-game had been designed to embarrass the woman, though it hadn't been anticipated she would become so pathetically submissive. She thought the woman would have rebelled by now, after being pushed beyond normal limits of endurance.

It was true, she liked to play games. Having this woman so compliant, so willing to obey, was tempting a dark side of her personality. Twice she had nearly relented, almost telling her it was all a bluff, and just a joke. Looking at the snivelling mess, kneeling at her feet, seemed to be too much of an opportunity to miss.

The friends knew each other well, recognising who was dominant, and which of them was submissive by nature. She never guessed Tracy could be totally dominated, and would enjoy being so badly humiliated. They all had a hidden perversity, and this dismal enjoyment of humiliation, was fascination.

"Get up and follow me," Irene commanded.

In a spare room Irene looked through a wardrobe of party costumes. She entertained an exclusive circle of game players, who used the outfits for their nefarious parties. There was sure to be something to fit this new, unwitting member.


Dressed in a saucy French maid's costume Tracy prepared to serve the guests. Irene made her wear a crotch-less pair of panties, which wouldn't have been so bad, except the short hem was held up by stiff petticoats. A pair of shapely, smooth legs was sheathed in sheer nylons, held up by suspender straps.

This was the first time she had worn a corset, and it was securely fastened, pinching her waist tight. The brassy red silk, was trimmed with black lace. With her breasts pushed up into a deep cleavage, it was only the thin lace that hid her nipples.

Tracy felt highly embarrassed to have everything so devilishly on show. Being naked would have been less lascivious. Yesterday she wouldn't have believed it possible to consent to such a humble position, not to mention enduring this rude display of her body. It would have been intolerable serving Irene, let alone a group of strangers.

Tracy tried in vain to keep the crotch together. With every movement the crotch split wide, showing off her secret place. The lawn had been mown bare, so that her denuded secret garden was on show. Whenever she bent forward to serve a seated guest, she heard those behind her, rudely comment on an exposed sex.

At home, Tracy had a maid to serve guests, though they always wore a sensible dress with an apron. If it was a large party, extra help would be called in. With eight guests, expecting to be kept watered and fed she had to be quick on her toes. The short hem bounced around and her breasts bounced upon the low cut corset. Her nipples had to be tucked back in, every time she made it back to the kitchen.

Acting as Irene's maid was embarrassing. Being dressed like a disreputable extra, in a cheap pornography film, was thoroughly demeaning. Having Irene decide what she would wear, stripped Tracy of yet another shred of confidence.

She was already suffering in a state of anxiety, feeling guilty, over the appalling acts she had committed. The present deplorable situation seemed a just retribution. She had acted like a slut, so the punishment fitted the crime.

"Are these on offer?" Derrick asked.

Tracy looked confused, until the young guy pinched one of her nipples. She was bent over with a tray, serving him a drink. Both nipples had yet again popped up over the thin lace. Unable to find the words to complain, she kept the pose, while he fiddled with them.

Everyone laughed as he twiddled both nipples, pretending to adjust an old fashioned radio.

"Be careful the maid doesn't spill that drink over you, Derrick," Irene laughed.

"She looks more like a naughty slut than a maid," he retorted.

"She is that. She's a slutty maid. If she does spill anything, or gives any trouble, give the slut a spanking," Irene announced, to the onlookers.

He let go of a nipple to take his whisky, not wanting to have it fall into his lap, despite the delightful prospect of spanking her.

Tracy's nipples had never been particularly sensitive, though a stranger's rough handling had her at a disadvantage. When he let go, she gasped, from pain and arousal combined.

The raucous crowd could see the maid was sexed up. Their comments left her feeling small, and thoroughly demoralised. Being aroused in the midst of strangers, displaying her body so wantonly, fixed in her mind that she was just a dirty little slut.

Irene observed with relish that she had her friend, in an abject state of submissiveness. The passive attitude, and state of arousal, confirmed what she had thought. It was delightful to know, whatever game she wanted Tracy to play, it would be carried out.

The intensive feeling of submission became overwhelming, as she bent to their whims, fetching and carrying like a humble servant.

"No! I said a whisky and dry, not soda," Mildred complained.

"Sorry ma'am. I'll fetch your drink straight away, ma'am," Tracy hurriedly offered.

With some small relief, Tracy returned to the kitchen, relieved not to be punished over the mistake. It was so humbling to serve these rude people, and to be at their beck and call as their slutty maid. Full of nerves, she served them with trembling hands.

"You stupid bitch, these shoes cost a fortune! Go fetch a cloth, quickly girl," Angela scolded her.

"I'm so sorry ma'am, really I am, so sorry," Tracy gabbled. With a sense of foreboding she ran to the kitchen to fetch a cloth.

On the floor, at the young woman's feet, Tracy rubbed off the gin and tonic. While bottom up on hands and knees, everyone had a fine view of her rear. There were a few appreciative comments over the way her bottom swayed. More of them rudely commented, on her swollen pussy, as it bulged through the split crotch panties.

The feeling of abject misery showed on her face, as she stood before the young woman. From being a wealthy mature woman, she had sunk into the role of a poor humble maid.

"I'm afraid they will never be as good as new. The silly little slut needs to be punished. Michael, you have a strong arm, would you be good enough to carry out the punishment?" Irene asked.

Pinching an ear, as though Tracy were a naughty schoolgirl, Irene dragged her over to Michael. He grabbed both arms to pull her over his knee. He took great pleasure in tearing her panties down.

Tracy yelped from pain, when he swiped her bare ass, with a big strong hand.

"Hold still, you stupid slut," Michael warned her. He reddened the upturned bottom, with slaps to both cheeks. They weren't hard, as they more for effect. He slapped her loudly a few times, encouraged by the onlookers.

Tracy once more stood among the strangers, wanting to rub her sore bottom, though unable to move. Tears formed in her eyes, to silently drop to the floor.

"What do you say, naughty slut," Irene demanded.

"Sorry ma'am. Thank you for punishing me, sir," Tracy pathetically spoke. She had been prompted before the party, over how to behave and what to say, during this game. Although it was expected, the public spanking was still a shock.

As a wealthy mature woman, it was highly embarrassing to be thrashed by a young stranger. In front of an audience it was devastating. Her panties were on the floor by her feet. It was impossible to pick them up in front of everyone.

"Pick them up, and hand them to Michael," Irene commanded.

It was as though her mind had been read. Knowing her red bottom, and her crotch, with an obvious pair of swollen lips was on show to everyone, left her breathless. She was panting with arousal, after being so ill used. The humiliation had her so stoked up, she was on fire.

With a shaking hand, her panties were waving in his face.

"Take them as a souvenir," Irene laughed.

The others laughed with her, and at the stupid bitch submitting to such a dreadful manhandling. From then on she had to serve them without panties. On top of that, they knew full well what a depraved a slut she was. From then on they treated her with even greater disdain.

When she bent over with a drink, someone would casually paw her sex, while another pinched a nipple. The continuous molestation of her body, kept her on the brink of an orgasm. Tracy couldn't escape the fact, that she was a pitiful pain slut.

"The girl is a degenerate," Simon commented, while fingering her.

"A bit past a girl, it's more like an old slut," Millie guffawed.

"I've thought of a game to play," Irene said, while ringing a clutch of little bells.

"A devilish game as usual," Michael grinned.

"This looks interesting," Clarissa added, among other eager responses.

"It's a naughty quiz! You will discover the reward as we go," Irene laughed.

"Intriguing, as usual," Michael slurred.

Irene gave Mildred a piece of paper with one word written upon it. She had to mime a nipple, without touching her own. It seemed impossible, even when she waved her own ample bosom in Michael's face. At last someone caught on, when Michael pretended to lick her nipples. By then they were impolitely outlined through her silk dress.

"Well done Derrick!" Irene laughed, and everyone applauded. "Now for your reward," she said, handing him a bell. He looked at her, with a bemused look on his face. Irene pointed at the maid, who was quietly standing to one side, waiting for orders.

"Be a good fellow and attach it to a nipple," Irene smiled.

He made a show of pulling a nipple free. With a loss of dexterity, through drink, he took a while clipping the little bell to Tracy's nipple. Eventually the clip was slid over a hard rubbery nipple. Already large, it began to swell with trapped blood, becoming engorged like a tiny penis.

"Ring your bell, slut," Irene demanded.

With a look of abject misery, Tracy shook her breasts, to ring the bell. Of course, everyone laughed at her. They began to sing an old song, 'ring my bell'. Fortunately they couldn't remember the words, so they dried up, and she was allowed to stop the demeaning act.

Another guest started an inebriated mime. Someone murmured the word 'penis', and it was pointed out the maid didn't have one. The others had caught on to the purpose of the game.

"Lips, err, labia," John shouted.

"Well done," Irene smiled, with a devilish glint to her eye. "Hold up that dress, slut," Irene demanded.

Tracy was standing in the middle of the circle of guests, showing off her bare ass and pussy. Knowing what was next, made her shiver with dread. The guy got on his knees before her and pulled on her slippery, swollen lips.

"Open up slut, you know you want to," Irene said. "Come on, push those thighs apart, or we'll be here all night," Irene complained.

John didn't complain over how long it was taking, as he was enjoying playing with the slut. Eventually he managed to clip the bell to her lips. He wasn't too gentle about it either. Tracy gasped every time he pulled on her swollen labia.

"Come on, let's see you flap those lips," Irene demanded. Tracy rocked her hips from side to side, managing to ring both bells in unison.

Another mime was quickly recognised as a nipple. Both breasts were pulled out of the corset, to be rested on the rim. The guy clipped the nipple tight, and stood back to admire her large breasts, with swollen nipples. He weighed them then rang the bells, trying for a tune.

"Jingle bells!" someone guessed.

A woman this time, clipped a bell to her other lip. With little sympathy she shoved it on, causing Tracy to wince in pain.

"Rock them all, up and down," Irene suggested, with a snorted noise of derision.

Bouncing up and down on her toes, Tracy rang all four bells. Vibration through the tight clips tingled both nipples and lips. The already aroused body began a final journey to a climax. In trepidation she realised a deep orgasm was about to overwhelm her, in front of everyone!

"Stop right there, slut," Irene harshly spoke. She slapped Tracy's ass and face. "You do not cum, until given permission," Irene stated.

Tracy felt so shameful, she wanted to die. Everyone now knew she was going to orgasm, and everyone knew she had to have permission! She had been denied all manner of freedoms and this showed just how passive she was. She was Irene's little slut girl, completely at her mercy, willing to endure anything, however immoral and degrading.

Irene handed the last piece of paper to a guest. She wriggled her ass at everyone, for them to easily guess the next humiliation to be inflicted on the stupid, slutty maid.

Tracy couldn't bear to watch. She heard the word that condemned her body to a further humiliation, and clenched her cheeks together. It was obvious what part of her body was to be insulted next, though how, was a mystery to everyone.

Irene produced a dildo, with a bell attached to one end. Everyone laughed and clapped. It was with difficulty that a winner was decided upon, after so many had shouted, 'asshole'.

Irene picked a young, innocent looking guy. He smiled sheepishly, looking shy.

Tracy looked at the wicked looking, black butt plug, and clenched her cheeks. Her shoulders betrayed the silent sobs. She lowered her head, trying to hide in long hair to save face, trying to shut out the tormenting crowd.

"Relax your asshole, slut, otherwise it will hurt," Irene warned her.

The young guy massaged her crack with grease, finally easing a finger into her brown, crinkly hole. He reamed her with two fingers, before pushing at her hole with the butt plug. He was gentle with her, but it was till going to hurt her virgin hole. He had to push hard, to get its head past her tight asshole.

Tracy whimpered throughout the ordeal. Feeling it pop into her bottom, elicited a gasp of pain. It was physical pain, as well as mental anguish, from having this humiliation witnessed by a raucous crowd. She let go a pathetic whimper.

Given a moment or two to recover, Irene soon had her performing. "Wiggle that ass, slut," Irene demanded. "Walk across the room, sway those hips, slut," she directed.

The ringing bells became a torment, for the rest of the evening. Each of them in turn had her attempting a tune, by wiggling her body. The feel of the butt plug in her ass couldn't be ignored. Her exposed body betrayed her sexual arousal, as she paraded around between them.

It wasn't long before everyone had drunk enough, and either phoned for a cab or had a chauffeur pick them up.

Tracy had to tidy up the mess, while Irene directed her over the simplest of tasks, rubbing her nose in the lowly status as a slut maid. It was all the more demeaning to be ringing the obnoxious bells, with every movement.

"It's late, you had better prepare for bed," Irene told her slut.

"Oh! Mistress," Tracy whined. She wanted to say more, but knew better than to blurt out something, without permission.

"Yes, my dear little slut, what is it?" Irene asked.

"My husband will be wondering where I am. I need to go home, mistress, sorry mistress," Tracy whimpered. She had been holding onto this thought for the last hour. The thought of going home, and at last escaping this hell, had got her through the torment.

"Your husband has been phoned, and informed you are staying with me. So, for the whole weekend, you are all mine. I have such interesting games for you to play. We, I mean I, will have such fun," Irene chortled.

She understood why Tracy didn't just run off. It wasn't because of the revealing clothes and nasty bells. The woman stayed because she had been completely subdued. The stupid woman hadn't yet accepted the fact of enjoying the humiliation, or rather needing it, which were two separate things.

The hurt look on her face revealed, she still felt it was all a punishment. As she still went along with it, proved to Irene, her friend needed the humiliation, in some vicarious way. She had watched how aroused Tracy became, from the dire treatment dished out, and couldn't help planning more diabolical games.

"Please, mistress," Tracy said, looking up at her onetime friend. She was squatting on the floor, at her feet. It was another rule she had to obey.

"Go on, tell me, slut," Irene yawned.

"Something's happened to me, mistress. It's not just a game, I've changed, I mean, you've changed me," Tracy thoughtfully spoke.

Irene bent forward to stroke her hair. "What's the matter little slut. I've just brought out of you something that was there all along. Don't fret, just do as you are told, leave everything to me," Irene told her.

"Please mistress, it's wrong, I shouldn't be like this. I'm horny all the time. You made me show off my body to your friends. You forced me to play along in those grubby games. I've behaved like a slut with them. It just isn't right," Tracy complained.

At first Irene thought the woman's limit had been reached, and that she was readying to walk out. Instead she just sat there, wallowing in the calamity she brought upon herself.

"There, there, sweet little slut, your mistress will look after you," Irene teased. She loved rubbing it in, by treating her like a stupid slut. The woman's face looked so crestfallen, she almost felt sorry for her.

"You've got to let me leave, mistress. I'm sorry, mistress. I really am," Tracy earnestly said.

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