Janine's Journey

"Well, we had better get started on the slut."

He kneeled down, picked an instrument with a cable running from the back of the handle and carefully dripped some dark colour into a little cup on the top.

Her eyes widened as she realized what was going to happen: She was getting a tattoo. She hated tattoos. How could they do this to her? What on earth was George and John thinking? She tightened all her muscles, but all she achieved was pain from the straps. She also made a lot of protesting noises down her throat. The man just smiled. "If you relax, slut, it will be a much nicer experience for you -- and all you will achieve by fighting will be that the tattoo will be uneven and not very pretty."

He bent down, put the thumb of his left hand just under her hood and pushed up so that the tip of his finger rested on her clit.

The needle began humming and a few seconds later something between a tickle and pain started in the skin above her opening.

She did struggle for a few more minutes, but then relaxed. Realizing that the man, who's almost bald head she was now looking down at, was right: This was going to happen no matter what she did, so she might as well relax. Struggling would get her nowhere.

He worked concentrated for what to her seemed a very long time. The constant hum of the needle being the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

The woman had taken up position next to her and was gently caressed her forehead, alternating using a tissue to dry the tears that ran down her cheeks.

He was not just using the needle on her skin. The tip of his thumb was busy moving over her clit all the time. As much as she tried to resist and think of something else. She could feel how she responded to this slow, gentle tickling. Being totally helpless like this did not help her self-control at all.

By the time he shut off the needle, she was wet and had a quite swollen crotch -- and felt her body give a jerk in the seat as he removed the needle from her skin and his thumb from her clit simultaneously.

Her locked position had not made it possible for her to see what went on between her legs -- and the combination of the needle-pain and the clit stimulation had been one of the strangest sensations, she had ever experienced.

He took a roll of cling film from the trolley, put a few layers over the fresh tattoo -- and taped it to her skin.

He patted her harnessed cheek with an amazing gentleness considering his big, coarse hands: "I am sure you will be happy with the result, dear." He smiled, bend forward, kissed her forehead gently with closed lips. then snapped the gloves off, turned and left the room - leaving the untying to the woman.

Neither she nor the woman said a word while she was unstrapped, ungagged, helped up and got into her clothes again.

She managed a quick glance at the tattoo: Right above her opening was a round Triskelion symbol, and above that -- in a very elegant decorative copperplate - the word: "SLUT" -- following the top curve of the symbol.

She left without a word. Slamming the door unnecessarily hard.

Back in her car she realized that anybody she would have intimate relationships or intercourse with in the future, would see the mark over her cunt.

She spent the evening shouting at George and slamming the doors. Of course, she did not put her cuffs on as usual, when coming in the door, but immediately started scolding George. She made him take her belt off, went to the guest bedroom and locked herself in.

She took a very long, very hot shower and then stood before the mirror looking at herself.

Was this really what she had wanted that evening at John's? If she had known what she knew now, would she had been so insistent in getting into this and letting herself be trained by John?

That and many other thoughts roamed through her mind as she turned in front of the mirror.

She put her hands on her waist. It had been a while since it had moved back to its old circumference after the belt had been taken off. She had a reddish, irritating band where it had been. Using an amble amount of the olive oil, she carefully greased and massaged the reddish area.

She tested afterwards by holding her open hands round her waist -- her fingers could almost meet on each side of her body, and she had to admit it made her sexier looking -- she was now just 'tits and ass' and the contrast to the tiny waist was rather exciting -- even to herself.

She bent down and slid a finger into her anus. Her hands being covered in oil from just having applied it on her body. The finger went inside in with an amazing easiness. She hardly felt it. The plugs had done their job -- and done it well. Her anus was definitely wide and flexible -- a lot of difference from before. She bent a little more and stuck another finger inside as well. This she felt, but it was still quite easy. The third finger was noticeable. Her sphincter clutched round the three fingers. She wondered if the expansion and flexibility was enough. George -- or anyone else -- had not used her for some days.

"What a slut I am', she thought. Here she was, checking her usefulness to satisfy men like it was the most natural thing in the world. She was surprised at the natural way, she did this..

Lastly, she looked at the tattoo. Still covered in clingfilm and gaffer tape, but clearly visible.

Maybe it was not that bad? The Triskelion symbol was about two inches in diameter and the writing on top less than an inch high. She judged the whole thing to be about 5 inches high. She would not be able to wear a bikini swim suit, but her new waist measurement would probably make her avoid that anyway.

It would be a problem should she ever leave George. She would have to find another boyfriend inside the circles of BDSM, but she would cross that bridge, when she came to it -- if ever.

Or she would have to find one of those places that removed tattoos. Should not be that difficult, and the process probably easy as it was basically just a line drawing.

The tattoo was already crusty and looked less defined and nice than when it had been fresh. In between screaming at George, she had looked tattooing up on the net, and knew that it was normal for it to develop a crust, which would come off by itself within a few days -- and then there would only be the permanent ink drawing left.

She had also checked how to remove a tattoo, and apparently it was not that hard, but expensive and time consuming. The results, she had seen in pics on the net, showed far more extensive tattoo's being removed -- and the result was very encouraging. Should she decide to get rid of it, it was just a few treatments away.

She decided to call it a night, but also that she would keep George on the rack for a while longer, so she checked that the door to the guest room was locked and went to bed.

Having bad dreams and throwing herself around in the blankets for most of the night.

Friday morning, she came downstairs -- naked. George was very quiet and preparing breakfast. He did not look at her.

"Well. Are you going to help me into my belt -- or what?" She said as she handed it to him.

She had grabbed it from its usual place by the door on her way.

"Ehh. Yes. Of course,'. His face reddened. She did not know what he had expected. That she would come down and say she was leaving him or what, but certainly not this.

He worked on the belt.

"Tighter. Tighter. You know where it goes. Look at the marks on the straps -- and see if you can do one more."

She had lifted her hands behind her head, and he worked on the buckles in front.

"Locks, please!" She said when he had huffed and puffed his way through tightening the belt.

He went and go the locks and put them in place.

He had still not uttered a word.

Without further comments, she went upstairs - and came back with two skirts and two blouses: "Which one do you want me to wear? Remember we are going out with John tonight. Ballet and dinner at his place."

He still looked red-faced and confused as he looked from one piece of clothing to the other, then finally pointed. "That one...and that one."

She got into the garments right there, and brought the two spare ones back to the bedroom.

She took her time. Studying herself in the mirror and adjusting the clothes. Then went to the bathroom, and fixed her makeup and hair. She gave herself a big smile, turned a few times making the wide, plaited skirt flow out in a circle and then ventured downstairs again.

When she returned he had made and served breakfast.

For a while the ate in silence.

"Eh. I'm sorry if I have offended you.," he finally said in a very low voice.

"Well -- a bit late for you to say that!"

His face got even redder and he looked down at his fried eggs.

"Well. Not much to do about it now, is there? So, I suppose I will have to get used to it -- and you are my Master." She replied in a friendly tone and with a small smile.

"Would you have done it if I had asked you first?" He said in a very small, low voice.

"Probably not, but that is not the case. Now it is over and done, and I hope it will please you for a long time to come...Master"

"I think so. Have dreamed of giving you a permanent mark for a while, so apart from your rather violent reaction, I am very pleased with it."

She finished her breakfast, got up and kissed his cheek. "See you later, Master. And have a good day."

"You too...slut..."

With an unusual light stride in her heels, she walked to her car and drove to work.

Janine's Journey

by o_girl ©

Chapter fifteen

A cozy evening...

She stopped short a few times during the day. Remembering that she was not going for a weekend of training. Like the previous three weekends.

Several times she smiled to herself as she thought of what she had been through. It was different from what she had imagined in many ways -- but intense -- and she felt quite happy with her present state and situation.

She went over her outburst of rage on account of the tattoo, and smiled. 'Topping-from-the-bottom' as she believed it was called. She certainly had shown George that she was an independent submissive, and that she could regain full control at any time.

The way he had been shocked had both astonished and somewhat amused her, when she eventually had come down from her initial rage during the evening.

She went home, did a quick fresh up, and drove with George for an evening in the theatre with John -- as so many times before.

They saw a ballet: Adolphe Adam's 'Le Corsaire'.

It was in three acts and the plot was basically about some female slaves, corsairs and Pasha's. The lead being a beautiful slave girl that everybody wanted to own -- and everybody loved. As in all these ballet's the villain got cheated in the end and the slave girl got her beloved man.

Along the way there were a lot of confusion, action and fighting -- all danced and played beautifully.

She could not help thinking that the ballet had been chosen for her benefit. Showing that the slave concept was a strong sexual subject -- even in 1858. The ballet loosely based on Lord Byron's poem: 'The Corsair'.

In the long intermission -- between second and third act, they went into the hallway and had champagne and petit fours. Even though there were many women with long evening dresses and lots of jewelry, she found that she got more of her share of looks. In spite of her relatively plain appearance.

John had brought Elisabeth, and at first she had felt awkward at the presence of her, but she acted as she had done all the other times, they had been out together. Soon everybody relaxed -- even Janine -- and conversation flowed like it had always done between them.

Afterwards they drove to a late dinner at John's. He had his usual chef and helpers prepare everything before they arrived.

She only saw the chef once, but the serving girls went to and fro. None of them in any way acknowledging that they had seen her in a very different role before.

They were treated to an opulent 3-course meal - and everything was perfect.

The living room was back to the old looks. The statue in its place between the two posts -- and nothing revealing the ordeal she had gone through in this very room.

They descended on the seating arrangement. She felt strange to sit in a chair, as the last many times, she had been here, she had either been crawling on the floor, or kneeling, naked in front of the seating group.

She managed to relax after a short while. Especially as everybody else acted and talked like they had done before that landmark evening, when she had confessed her secret desires.

Finishing their coffee and turning to drinks -- and after the chef and his helpers had left, the conversation got serious.

"Well, Janine. Now you have been through your first month. How do you feel?"

"Exhausted, worn down a bit, different and somewhat happy -- strangely enough."

Her answer had come spontaneously and fast -- and as a small surprise to herself.

She looked from one smiling face to the other. Grateful that they had all done quite a job of helping her with the transition.

As no one spoke, she continued: "It's been an amazing journey -- all of it. I do not think I expected it to be quite like that!"

She lifted her coffee to her mouth as a signal that she had finished with her statement. Waiting for comments.

John put down his Cognac: "What was best and what was worst?"

She gave it a few minutes while thinking hard.

"Taking the last first: I think being treated like a dog came as a surprise for me -- and took some adjustment, but I can see now that you needed a 'crash course' to get me 'rebooted'. My knees are still sore from all the crawling though!"

The all laughed, and she continued: "I think the best has been the improvement in our sex life. Not that it was bad before -- just boring and I had a hard time getting an orgasm. Now I almost get one at the slightest touch."

Again, her remark made the company laugh.

"During the training I had several times, where I found it very hard. First to be with a stranger: Frederick. I had never thought of or done anything like that -- and then in some kind of public setting, but I had no choice -- so it was exciting in a very sensual way."

"Well. We needed you to transform from a 'one man's lover' to a slave. One that do anything -even the most intimate thing on her Master's orders. A kind of gentle way of doing so, was to have one man initiate you into that concept -- and it seemed to work. Later you were giving Blow Jobs at that club like you had done nothing else all your grown life -- and not once protesting!"

"...ahh..yes, that was another really hard thing to do.."

There was a short pause when everybody nodded. Then she continued: "In fact I also had problems seeing Elisabeth in her new role. As well as I have had 'adjustment' problems tonight of seeing her in her old role."

Elisabeth answered. "I suppose it was difficult as we know each other so well -- and you had never seen that side of me -- or even suspected that I was John's number one submissive when we are alone?"

"No. Exactly, and you did give me both the verbal and physical treatment -- rather a bit of a shock!"

"...but you seemed to like it, or at least adjust to it almost immediately. That surprised me. I was worried you'd say: 'Go on Elisabeth. We're friends. Behave yourself' or something like that."

"It actually never crossed my mind. I suppose I was in a state, where it felt natural for me, so I just complied."

Elisabeth gave her a very big smile.

"Another thing!", Janine said. "I felt terribly shy and afraid walking home from here. In that cape. The Armstrong's next door got more than one surprise. It was terrible while it was going on, but when I came home, I was ready to explode...again. Very arousing actually!"

"That was the general idea," John said with a big grin, and she could see on George's face that he certainly agreed.

"How do you like your 'new' body then. Have you had any reactions from people? At work f. inst.?" John asked.

Again, she had to think for a minute before answering: "A little ambiguous I think. On one hand, I am quite fond of my waistline. Makes me feel sexy in a new way, and I suppose the rear expansion was necessary. Not that it was particularly pleasant, while it happened, but now that it is done, I find that I have a whole new area of pleasure so I like it, and will keep it expanded, flexible and open of course."

They all again nodded at her reply.

"My change of wardrobe and makeup was another thing. I think my colleagues and boss got more than one surprise each time I appeared at work, and had gone a step further in dress, hair and makeup. It was hard, but I think I managed to convince them that I was in the process of a positive change to my appearance. They seemed to like it at least the men did!"

They all laughed.

"Now! The tattoo is something else. You all know perfectly well that I am against tattoo's, so I was not very pleased to get one -- to say the least. Now that it is there, I suppose I will have to live with it and get used to it, and should I have regrets, even tattoos can be removed. Although I have heard that it is by no means a pleasure to have done. So, for now, it stays."

She had been looking at George while she spoke and he had been busy watching his drink on the table.

"Good," John said. "Anything else you'd like to comment on or ask us?"

"Not at the moment, thank you. I suppose I should be grateful for your help, and thank you all for participating -- so it is hereby done."

"I do wonder if I have become a slut though? Normally that is not a very pleasant label to wear."

John smiled again: "By no means. For you it might be considered an 'honorary' title. You are George's submissive, slave, slut -- and apparently adapting to that role nicely and feeling at home being so. I do not think it will turn out to be more of a problem for you than it is now. You have to get more used to it. 4 weeks of being addressed as such is not enough for it to become a habit. Took Elisabeth almost six months before she recognized herself as a slut."

"I see. Will just have to wait then, as I am not quite sure I am comfortable with it yet."

"No. of course not, but since we are all present anyway, then strip and get on your knees for us. So, we can all admire your body and new tattoo!"

She rose and did as told -- sitting with her knees spread, her hands behind her head and her eyes directed at a spot about a meter or two in front of her.

The already long evening became very long before she was home in her basket on their bedroom floor...

The end..or the other end...

o_girl