Just Do It! Pt. 03

PART THREE

This is the final part of the story. In Part One, lesbian Nicole ('Nike') becomes bisexual Stella's slave and slut at college, before being cruelly dumped on graduation day. In Part Two, three years later, Nike becomes the live-in slave of Stella and her rockstar husband Jack. But when Jack and Stella go on tour for three months, they leave Nike in the capable hands of ex-pro Dominatrix Meg. Part Three covers events, leading up to the present day.

6. TO THE PRESENT DAY

When Stella eventually arrived back home, suntanned and gorgeous, she behaved as if she'd never been away. She hugged and kissed me like a sister but greeted Mistress Meg with just a cool handshake. It felt like some kind of victory to me. Fifteen minutes later, Meg was gone, never to be seen again.

"Let me examine you." Stella enthused.

I stripped off. My Mistress cooed over my plump boobs. Her thumbs caressed my nipple rings with 'S' and 'J' dangling from them.

"Jack will be thrilled. They look so natural. Big and bouncy. Tits need to be either perfect, like mine, or impressively big. Yours were neither. Now they're awesome. What's it like living with them?"

"I'm getting use to it, Mistress. They sometime affect my balance. But I'm not sore any more. Men seem to like squeezing and pinching them."

"We must get you some new tops. Really lowcut ones that show off your cleavage. So that both male and female visitors can't miss them."

Next, she smirked at the elaborate STELLA heart-tattoo below my waistline.

"Nothing like wearing your heart on your sleeve, darling."

But her greatest excitement was reserved for my padlocked labia.

"Oh my, Nike! How delicious. You know I've always trusted you but, wow, now I can be absolutely certain. Meg said you really can't make yourself cum?"

"No, Mistress. She made me try."

That was true. Without proper access to my clitoris I've never been able to reach orgasm.

"Turn round."

I heard her giggle when she saw SLUT stamped above my anal crevice. Then her thumbs prised my buttocks apart.

"Fuck me, Nike. Your rim's all red and distended."

That was probably true as well. The past week had been busy. I guess that Meg had known that Stella was due back.

"Yes, Mistress. I'm sorry."

She laughed. "Sorry? I'm delighted. Jack's home tomorrow. He can't stop talking about fucking you there. Honestly, with those tits and anal sex, maybe he will dump me for you after all!"

She span me round and held my bare shoulders, her green eyes appraising me. I could see something in them. Something new.

"I'm so proud of you, Nike. Three whole months! And I know what you've been put through. You see I Face-timed Meg most days whenever I could. We tried to break you. But we couldn't. Respect!"

I gulped. I could feel my eyes stinging, tearing up.

She winked. Her blonde hair was mussed and her eyes looked tired. Mr. Jenkins had picked her up and, after an overnight flight, she'd come straight from the airport. Even so, she looked beautiful as always.

"Let's go upstairs. You can help me in the bathroom."

I carried both her suitcases up while she walked ahead. I couldn't take my eyes off her taut backside only two stairs ahead of me. I was thinking how her perfect bottom would never be penetrated. While my slightly chubby one had already been used extensively.

In her bedroom, I helped her undress. Well, basically I undressed her. Adidas trainers, merino socks, cream cashmere tracksuit, bra and finally her thong. The gusset was stained. I put everything carefully on the chair while she lay on their bed.

"Mmm, I haven't bathed in like 48 hours." She sighed. "We had to fly the red eye from Los Angeles to JFK, have a final media lunch in New York, then a farewell fuck with Jack, and straight back to the airport and overnight on BA to Heathrow. Yes, it was First Class, but there are no real washing facilities. I must stink, right?"

She raised her arms and sniffed each armpit in turn.

She did smell a bit. But I wasn't going to tell her.

I knelt at the foot of the bed and touched her ankles.

"No, Mistress. You smell lovely as always."

By now, her head had fallen onto the pillow. She was looking up at the ceiling, knees raised, legs akimbo. I moved my lips to her left foot. Her big toe. It was so dainty compared with Meg's. I kissed it while she murmured.

"Mmm ... oh Nicole ... I've missed you more than you reali ..."

Her voice drifted away. I realised she was asleep. I could tell by her breathing. I sucked her toe into my mouth and waited for her to stir. She didn't. So I slithered my lips up her bare shins. She'd fallen asleep with her knees raised, forming a V. I ran my tongue up the inside of her thighs, careful not to disturb her.

She still had her little triangle of pubic hair. It was soft and honey-coloured. Her labia were just as I remembered; puffy, pink and perfect. But my nostrils detected a whiff of fragrance too; fusty, fetid and fishy. What was it Stella had said? 'A farewell fuck with Jack and then straight to the airport'. No real washing facilities.

But, at the same time, she'd called me Nicole. Not Nike. Nicole. My real name. And she said she'd missed me. It was true. I'd won. I'd passed her test.

I lay my head against her hip and fell asleep, as happy as I'd ever been.

***

We awoke four hours later. When Stella stirred, I jumped up. She was looking down at me with a sleepy but quizzical look on her face.

"Were you licking my pussy?"

"N ... no, Mistress. I fell asleep, like you."

"But you wanted to?"

"I ... I did think of it ... but ..."

She stared at me. "But then you smelt it?"

I could feel my cheeks blushing hot. I nodded.

"I bet it's pretty nasty down there by now?"

Checkmate.

I either had to either call my Mistress's pussy nasty.

Or I had to put my tongue in her nasty, fishy orifice.

Suddenly she laughed and rolled sideways, off the bed.

"Come on Nike, run a bath and go make me a coffee."

I sighed with relief. Or rather 99percent of me did.

That sick, tiny germ deep within me was disappointed.

An hour later, I was in the kitchen when Stella appeared in a bathrobe, refreshed and lovely. She no longer looked tired and her wet hair was tied up in a ponytail. Mrs Davis the cook hadn't come back to work yet so I was making Stella a chicken salad.

"So," she began, perched on the counter, "the house looks great. Meg worked you hard?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"And by now you've enjoyed many more male partners than me."

I had no idea how many guys Stella had ever had sex with. But I was pretty certain it was less than a dozen.

"I should think so Mistress, yes."

She chuckled. But it was a nice laugh, not a cruel one.

"Ironic, isn't it? You being lezzie and yet you outnumber me. And by a distance, I might add. You know, I do actually know exactly how many different guys you've been with. Meg kept meticulous notes for me."

She smiled at my expression, my flush of shame.

"I know their ages, jobs, ethnicity, colour, even photos. I've seen them all. Equal opportunities and all that. You've been with guys aged 18. And old men aged 81, and most ages in between. Yep, your tramp stamp's the truth. You really are a SLUT, darling!"

I couldn't deny it. I blushed even redder, if that's possible, and bowed my head.

"Look at me, Nike." She continued, waiting until I raised my eyes.

"I'm never going to tell you exactly how many of them there were. Or which two of the guys you'd actually have recognised from our time at college. I actually Face-timed them both too. It's my secret how many are pensioners and how many were bricklayers. I won't ever show you how unattractive some were or which of the three fucked that cunt of yours on Christmas Day, even though I've got the video."

She lifted my chin and gazed at my face.

"I promise that none of that's important now. Meg was expensive and so were your boobs. All worth it. But everything's history. The only important point is that I set you a test. A serious challenge. And you passed it. With flying colours. I'm proud of you, Nicole."

I blinked back a tear. "Th ... thank you, Mistress."

"Please, sit down and eat with me". She said, jerking her chin at the salad. "And you no longer need to call me Mistress every time you reply. It gets tiresome."

While we ate, she asked me a lot of questions.

"What's anal sex actually like? Really like. Does it hurt?"

"Not really, Mistress. Not after the first few times. It depends on how prepared you are, with lube and gentleness, and obviously after wearing increasingly large plugs ... it's not painful. It's just ... a little ... well, it can hurt your pride a bit ... especially mine."

"Cause you prefer girls?" She grinned, sympathetically. "But pride's not good for you, Nike. Ever since college I've been helping you realise that. You know how that saying goes. Pride will always be the longest distance between two people."

She reached across the table, raised my hand and kissed my fingertips tenderly.

"That's why we're so close now."

We both looked at each other. A bit of me knew I was being manipulated. But most of me didn't care.

"Thank you."

She let go of my hand and winked.

"You know, I could never do it. Let a guy fuck my arse. Yuk. Not even Jack. That's why I'm going to let him fuck yours instead."

"Y ... you won't be jealous, Mistress?"

She snorted.

"Of course not. You mean nothing to him. Remember that Nike. You mean a great deal to ME. But nothing to my husband. To him, you're just a well-trained maid with an arse and mouth he can use occasionally. Don't worry. He already knows how many guys have used you there. He's seen their pics too. So he knows that he's nothing special to you either."

She shrugged, as if she was apologising for that fact.

"I understand, Mistress."

She made a face that reiterated not to keep calling her Mistress. Then she chewed on her mouthful before finally continuing.

"Meg says you never managed to orgasm even once, with any of them?"

"That's right."

"So it never turned you on? Even when you got used to it? Not even once?"

I thought it over for a few seconds.

"I liked the humiliation. Sometimes. Kind of. I liked thinking that I was doing it for you, imagining that you were watching us. So at times it turned me on mentally. But never physically. Or sexually. Not enough to reach an orgasm, or even close."

She raised her hand and held up her three middle fingers.

"Meg says you only had three orgasms altogether the entire time I was away?"

That was true. I nodded, unable to speak.

"And how did she let you have them?"

I grimaced. She knew. But she was actually going to make me say it.

"One was on Christmas Day, hooded in front of three gentlemen. I guess you've seen the video. But the first and last were ... when she was sat on my face. Mistress Meg made me lie underneath her and then let me reach down and rub my clitoris."

Stella's green eyes surveyed me a moment, reading my mind. I could see the nausea in hers at the disgusting image.

"And how did that make you feel?"

I shrugged. "Ashamed. Guilty. It wasn't just her appearance. I hated her. It wasn't really any pleasure at all. Just a bit of relief."

She suddenly gave me a conspiratorial wink. Her eyes sparkled like emeralds.

"Whew, I'm relieved. You see my love, I'm not possessive about Jack. No, I actually only feel jealous about YOU. So I don't ever want you getting pleasure with any other woman than me."

7. MY NEW LIFE

Early the following morning, Sir arrived home with three other bandmembers and a female. They were going to continue the Post-Tour Party for a few more days. Staying at Jack and Stella's house.

"Guys, this is Nike. She'll show you up to your rooms."

The bandmembers were all a similar age, mid-30s, but otherwise a mixed bunch. I recognised them from their press coverage. Jack was the lead singer and faraway the most attractive, with his blue eyes, high cheekbones and long, curly blonde hair.

The lead guitarist was more of a typical rocker, with a hook nose, thick stubble and long dark curls. The bass player was a black guy, totally bald and seemingly rather shy. Finally, the ginger-haired drummer was extrovert, with big biceps and a large belly.

The bottle-blonde woman looked like a classic groupie; petite but busty, with a pretty face that had already seen its fair share of Botox. I suspected she was an even bigger slut than me. It turned out she was the girlfriend of the quiet bass guitarist.

I carried their luggage up one bedroom at a time; heavy suitcases, squishy bags, rucksacks and guitar cases. I started with the black bassist and his woman. I opened the door to the room that Meg had occupied until the day before. The Green Suite.

"Nice!" the girlfriend said, admiring the 4-poster bed. "I'm Josie, by the way. My boyfriend's Bill."

"Hello, er ... Miss Josie."

She leered at me. "We've heard all about you, Nike. Seen the pics too. Stella kept us all up to date with your progress.

I reddened. Bill looked embarrassed for me. He fished into his pocket. I think he was going to tip me, like I was an ordinary hotel bellhop. Josie smacked his hand.

"Leave it, Bill. Stella says your free-use for any guest?"

"Er ... I suppose so, Miss Josie."

"Hmm ... I think I'll have you kiss my cunt later."

I rushed downstairs and fetched the drummer's gear next.

"I'm Ginger." He said, helping me with his heavy case.

"Hello, Sir."

I showed him to the Red Suite. He looked around approvingly and then sat on the edge of the bed.

"Red room huh? Appropriate." He flicked his ginger hair.

I smiled politely at his joke.

"Take up Pete's stuff and then come back here, yeah?"

I swallowed. "Yes Sir."

I showed Pete, the lead guitarist, up to the Blue Room. He rushed straight through to the ensuite bathroom without thanking me.

"That was quick." Ginger said, when I returned to his Red bedroom. He was still sitting on the edge of the bed but his jeans and underpants were already on the floor at his feet.

"Blow me, love. I'm always horny after a flight."

I stared at him in shock. But I knew I had to obey.

"Yes, Sir, of course."

I knelt by the bed. His penis was only at half-mast. Swelling but not erect yet. His stomach was like a barrel. Huge but unexpectedly firm. His pubic hair was a shocking bright shade of orange.

"Hurry up, love. I need a bath next, then a kip."

I put my lips around the head of his penis and suckled. It was sweaty and salty but not unpleasant. I'd known worse. I felt his hand on the top of my head, guiding me. He quickly hardened in my mouth.

"Jack says you're queer?" I heard him murmur.

"Mmm ..."

"Don't think I've ever had a blowie from a lezzie before."

I began sucking properly, rhythmically, yoyoing my head in his lap.

"Not bad for a rug muncher." He chuckled.

I heard a knock on the door.

"Come in!" he said.

The door opened. I heard heels.

"That was quick."

It was Stella's voice. I felt her standing right behind me.

He laughed. "As I told her, I'm always horny after a flight."

Stella bent over and pulled my hair away from my forehead. I could see her profile in my peripheral vision. Her breath was hot as she whispered in my ear.

"Make me proud, Nike. Just do it!"

***

Those three days of the Post Tour afterparty introduced me to my new life. In a way, I was treated well. I became one of the gang. I ate, drank, laughed and partied with the band, just like I was a fun groupie to have around. Nobody mistreated me like Meg had.

They genuinely seemed to admire my 'improvements': my piercings and tattoos, big boobs and labial padlock. They played a lot of poker for large stakes. I sucked them off while they focused on their cards. I got used to performing blowjobs in public. I swallowed a lot of cum. I even munched Stella's and Josie's pussies at the card table. Only Bill declined.

Ginger kept pestering Stella to unlock my labia but she refused. So, each night, in the privacy of their bedrooms, Ginger and Pete both fucked my arse instead. And only then, when I was stretched and gaping, did Stella summon me to her bedroom.

"Okay, Jack," she said, "your turn."

I got on all fours on the carpet and he tugged my cheeks open.

"Fuck me, Stel. Look at that. It's like a frigging cavern."

I heard them kissing, whispering, teasing, chuckling.

Jack wasn't only the leader of the band. He had the largest cock. Despite Ginger and Pete having gone first, it took him several attempts to wedge his in me. I grunted as he bottomed out against my buttocks.

"Shush, Nike."

Stella was squatting beside us. Her breath was hot in my ear. I felt her fingers toying with my swaying boobs, tugging on my nipple rings. Then she was tongue-kissing Jack above me.

"Mmm ..." she murmured, "this is the only way I enjoy anal."

But when it was time for the band to leave, I got a surprise.

"Here you are, love. Thanks. Great fun."

Ginger was holding a wedge of banknotes secured by an elastic band. I looked over at Stella. She just smiled and nodded.

I took the cash. Then Pete did the same thing. He shoved a similar wad of notes into my palm.

Finally, most surprisingly, Josie held out a pair of ornate earrings with amber stones. She winked and gave them to me.

"For your nipples."

I looked at Stella again. She stepped forward and kissed me on the lips.

"You know, free-use doesn't always have to mean for free, Nike. Our friends are welcome to tip you. Remember I told you I had an idea that would provide you with some spending money one day."

***

The next few months were happy ... and yet ...

At night, I would think back to our college life. In those days we used to refer to me as her 'servant'. But in truth, back then I was actually her slave. Now the reverse applied, we all thought of me as their slave, but I felt like a valued servant. I no longer lived in fear that Stella would send me away.

Yes sure, I still worked hard, rising early, doing chores as their maid, staying up late, performing intimately for Stella, Jack, or both of them as a couple, whenever I was required. I was restricted to providing only my mouth, fingers and anus. My labia remained padlocked except for twice-weekly hygienic cleansing and my one monthly release with a dildo or cucumber.

Their friends and guests visited. I served drinks, waited at table, washed and dried, helped Mrs Davis prepare their meals. I was only loaned out twice. Both times to women.

"It will be good for both of us." Stella announced. "To help you remember how to please women. And to help me learn to cope with my jealousy of you."

Izzy Brooke!

Stella could hardly have come up with a harder test. A bigger humiliation. Izzy was the worst of all her college friends. She was bitchier than Stella with none of her charisma.

"I'm going to Paris and Rome for a week with Jack. You'll spend five days over at Izzy and Toby's as their maid."

To be fair, it wasn't as bad as I'd feared. It was mostly housework. Long dreary hours tidying, sorting and cleaning their overstuffed apartment, readying it for sale. They were planning their wedding. Izzy clearly had no interest in offering me to Toby. She only made me lick her pussy once, one afternoon when he was out. It was rushed and I suspect only to impose her dominance. On my last day, as I was leaving, she let the truth slip.

"Well, at least the apartment looks better." She stared at me with narrowed eyes. "It would have been much more fun if Stel had given me a free hand."

The second time was for several hours with an older, black lady who was only ever referred to as 'Mrs X'. It was a sexual ordeal but, again, I sensed that the woman's hands had been metaphorically tied by Stella. It could have been a lot worse.