Lowest of the Low

Oh god! I didn't want to be humiliated again trying to start over again with someone else! I tried asking for different wording pleadingly "A bothuth carth. For hithcouthth. Ah wooh thike ah aphcahshuh ptheth." (A bonus card. For discounts. I would like an application please.) My god! My voice was distorted to Daffy Duck on steroids! Even I wouldn't be able to understand myself if I didn't what I was saying! And I couldn't take this tongue crib off! It was on for months as a "help". I mimed writing. I mimed holding something in my hand.

What started as just another customer in a long shift had turned into an impromptu game of pantomime with a desperate customer. "Uh...you want to write something, but I don't know what. I'll call someone else to help you."

I heard Master speak up behind me. "Miss? I think she's looking for a discount card application."

I was suddenly filled with gratitude for his help. I nodded enthusiastically. "Yeth ptheth!" (Yes please!) I felt so dependent on Master for help. I was being forced in public, yet was being separated from the person who I used to be.

I got the application and stepped aside to fill it out, glancing at the line. Two people after Master were looking at me. Was it pity? Confusion? Laughter? I didn't want to meet their gaze, and filled out the brief application, handing it back to the rep. Once I got the card, I scurried away. I wanted to shrink down and hide somewhere, but my shopping torment had just started.

Master walked by me as I headed for the butcher counter. Under his breath he whispered "Damn slave, you are one sexily gagged bitch!" I could hear the desire in his words. I stopped for a moment and took it in. I was pleasing Master. Just that one whisper gave me all the courage and motivation that I needed to continue to humiliate myself.

I cringed as I pushed the shopping cart up to the man in his 50's standing behind the butcher counter. I took a deep breath and started my plea. I tried to annunciate clearly. The damned tongue crib was right in the way of my tongue! I was so regretting agreeing to braces! "Ah wouh hike selen hundled felftl glams of roh beef pheth." (I would like 750 grams of roast beef please)

He stared at me in confusion, so I walked over to the roast beef, and pointed.

He got it, and asked "How much would you like Miss?"

"selen hundled felftl glams." (750 grams) I held up seven fingers, then five fingers, then made a zero as I flashed numbers at him.

"Seven fifty?"

I nodded gratefully. As he was walking over to the slicer, I heard him mutter to a coworker. "I didn't understand a damn thing she said. Who the hell goes shopping with a mouth full of marbles?"

I glanced back at Master. He was apparently quite pleased with his slave's predicament. I cringed, but when he returned, I gratefully took the meat and fled toward the checkout. Master was beaming a smile. I could only presume it was a mixture of pride of a job well done from the predicament he forced upon me, mixed with the sexual excitement of having me so publicly humiliated. As I passed, he commanded "Hey Tits ask someone which aisle the raisins are in."

I looked at him aghast. I looked around in fear at how many people were around. Master chuckled and moved off to watch. I went up toward the checkout and saw someone who looked like some kind of a cashier supervisor. She was a young woman, maybe late 20's. She was scanning up and down the registers and looking at some paperwork.

I gathered up my courage and walked up to her. "Ethcuth ma. Hah hu hell ma whih ehl he rahthath are ih?" (Excuse me. Can you tell me which aisle the raisins are in?) I looked at her, trying to mentally project my thoughts into her mind. I envisioned the raisins, and mentally pushed the picture. When she picked up her head, her silently stunned facial expression told me that neither one of us was psychic. I could have been asking for the bathroom in Swahili and gotten the same response.

I stammered as I thought how to mime raisins. "Uh... rahthath?" (Uh, raisins?) I held my fingers slightly apart to show something small. "Whih ehl are he rahthath?" (Which aisle are the raisins)I somehow knew that everyone walking by was just staring at the lady who can't freaking' talk. I was so self-conscious and was feeling quite warm. But what else could I do?

Just then a cashier walked up. The supervisor looked at me. "Uh...Justine will help you."

I turned to Justine, a cheerful looking young lady, probably in high school. "Hah hu hell ma whih ehl he rahthath are ih?" (Can you tell me which aisle the raisins are in?)

"I'm sorry. What was that?"

"Rahthath." (Raisins.) I mimed something small, and guessed that Master chose something that was difficult to pronounce with a tongue crib.

"Carrots?"

I shook my head, and she started guessing things apparently at random, looking at my expression to see if she got it right. "Racing? Braces? Haters?"

Why would she even be guessing these things? We're in a supermarket! Was she deliberately trying to humiliate me? I shook my head no. "Rathhath. Lih rothhath greh?" (Raisins. Like rotten grapes)

"Bread?" She pointed toward the bakery. I shook my head.

"Breath?" I cringed and shook my head.

Justine guessed "Raisins?" I nodded eagerly, and saw Master walking by, smiling and chuckling. He really enjoyed putting me though this. Justine answered "Oh! They are in aisle 13!"

"Thanh you!" (Thank you!) I walked off, especially thankful that this damned shopping trip was done. I would have to have this gagging crib in my mouth for how many months? How would I be able to talk to my friends like this?

Chapter 3 – Display – Tuesday, December 20th

The next day, Master told me to make up Buffalo Wing dip, and have chips, crackers, cheese and pepperoni available when he came home. I was nervous. Snacks meant we were having company.

When Master came home, I crawled up to him and smiled up at his face. "Hello Matheth." (Hello Master.) The tongue crib was still getting in the way of clear speech, so I hoped he still enjoyed it when I greeted him like that. He eagerly smiled down at me. His smile drove my nervousness. I had no idea what he had in mind. Looking straight ahead, I was eye to crotch with him. I felt so belittled, and wanted to be in his good graces. I leaned forward and kissed his bulge through his pants. He chuckled happily, so I gave it a teasing caress with my hand while kissing it again. He moaned out "Oh, you are such a teasing vixen! Strip for me Tits!"

There wasn't much to take off – I was starting to get used to only wearing a nipple-less bra and panties with my knee pads. Skirts got in the way of crawling, shorts were banned, and I wasn't allowed to cover my nipples. I slowly unhooked my bra, and made a show of slowly removing it, making sure that it didn't catch on my delicate golden nipple rings. I sensually caressed my boobs just for his viewing pleasure before letting it drop off onto my dresser. I then hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties, and slid them down a bit, teasingly hesitating and wiggling them with a smile before I revealed my crotch to him. The panties too went onto my dresser, and I was naked but for the knee pads.

"The knee pads can stay on Tits." He held out two rubber wedges, maybe 1" on a side. "Open your mouth, and then bite down on these."

Of course I complied without question, and he placed one wedge on each side of my teeth. As I slowly bit down, the wedges prevented me from fully closing my mouth, leaving my teeth comfortably separated by about an inch and a half.

Master smiled. "I have a gift for you Tits." He held up a bag, and triumphantly pulled out a black leather hood. On closer inspection, it had baby blue doll eyes that stared with doe-like innocence. Below that, ruby red lips gleamed invitingly around a generous size mouth grommet. "Make a ponytail." I duly pulled my long hair up, to the crown of my head, and felt around to be sure to get any stragglers. I bowed my head, and the ponytail was fed through a hole in the hood.

Master looked me in the eye. Remember – Two taps on your shoulder is just me making sure you are OK. If you are ever truly in trouble, your safe word is to start singing or humming any inappropriate tune. I smiled and nodded in understanding. I liked that when Master took control, he also took responsibility for keeping things safe, sane, and consensual.

His smile brightened as he pulled a pair of bullet shaped foam hearing protectors out of the bag. He scrunched them down and slid them into my ears, where they expanded to fit the shape of my ear. Everything became muffled. I could still hear, but not as clearly as before. He grabbed hold of the hood, and my world went black as he slid it over my head. As the hood was fitted into place, I realized that there were no hidden eyeholes. I was totally blind. He started lacing up the rear, and the hood started to shape itself to my head. Soft pads lightly pressed in on my eyes. I took the hint and made sure my eyes were closed. As the lacing continued, I realized I wouldn't be able to even open my eyes to gaze upon the utter blackness of the hood. Pads also pressed on my ears, sealing the foam mufflers inside. As the lacing continued, he must have adjusted something, for my jaw was forced to bite down on the rubber bite blocks that were holding my mouth open. My mouth would be open an inch and a half, no more, and no less until the hood was removed. I was grateful that I could breathe quite easily through the grommet. I felt Master tie off the hood, and a zipper zipped down over the laces from my ponytail down to the nape of my neck. I felt him fiddle with the zipper. I hesitated, and then curiously felt behind my neck. The leather was pretty smooth, and the zipper had a padlock attached.

Was that really needed? I thought I would ask. "Aaah haa eeaah eeaa?" (Was that really needed?) With the tongue crib and bite blocks in place, my conversation was little more than humming. I listened for a response, but I heard nothing. Did he say anything? Did he smile? Was he even still next to me? I had no way to know.

I stood and waited. I wondered what he was doing. He could be taking pictures. Maybe the phone rang – I wouldn't have heard it. I felt quite isolated as time went by.

I jumped in surprise when someone put their hand on my back. I calmed down as it guided me to walk, and to make turn after turn. I quickly got lost in the house with the excessive turning before the hand guided me to a stop. I felt something large and maybe a foot wide being positioned between my legs. The hands then gently grabbed my shoulders, and guided me down, so I knelt. Whatever was between my legs was maybe 3 feet long. The hands gently urged me down, and I started to sit down on my heels. I jumped in surprise when something pressed on my vagina. The hands calmly urged me down. I slowly lowered myself, and I felt fingers spreading my labia lips open to accept the invader. This wasn't the first time that I ever played with a dildo, but it was unexpected. I was grateful for the generous amount of lubrication on the dildo as it slid further into me. It was a nice ribbed one, about 15 cm long with a nicely rounded prong for my clit in front. I bottomed out on the dildo, and felt around the enormous base. It was a lightly padded semi-cylindrical lump – about 30 cm across, 20 cm high, and a meter long with this fake penis sticking out the top. And here I was impaled on it like some needy bimbo.

A set of fur-lined wrist and ankle cuffs were securely buckled around my wrists and ankles. I loved how Master took care of me, and cared about my comfort. The anonymous hands tugged on my left ankle cuff. A wide strap was pulled over my left thigh, and attached back to the cuff, forcing me to keep kneeling on this obscene phallus. The same procedure was done to my right side...I would be kneeling and impaled on this damned dildo until I was released. My wrists were guided behind my back, and those too were soon together. I couldn't feel how, but I could only guess there was a lock involved. And knowing Master, he was staring and admiring how this position forced my boobs to stand out.

Minutes passed. I tried to look around to see if I could determine where lights were. I tried turning my head to see if I could hear anything - anything at all. I had no idea which room I was in, or where I was in the room. I could be in a hallway or facing a corner for all I knew.

I felt something attach to the top of my hood, and my head was lifted upwards. I knelt up as much as I could to follow the pull. As I reached full upright proper posture, whatever was pulling stopped and was held stationary. My head must have been tied somewhere. Then I felt hands on my ponytail. I couldn't tell what they were doing until I felt it tug a bit, preventing me from turning my head to the left. A few seconds later, I couldn't turn my head to the right without yanking on my ponytail.

I knelt. Time passed. My mind wandered. I relaxed, held in place by my bonds. Did I doze? I don't know. Then I picked up the hint of a noise. Was it a movie? Or maybe it was a big play in a televised hockey game. I could have been a live poker game. I listened intently, but heard nothing. Did I just imagine it? Or was it a subtle shift in the hood over my ear or the sound of my own heart beating? How would I know? Your mind starts playing tricks on you without any input. With no nose holes and the pervasive smell of leather, I had no idea if I was near the food. Were others nearby? Were they treating me like home décor with sight notice, or were a bunch of guys making lewd jokes about me as I knelt here?

Time passed. I knelt there, and relaxed, letting the hood hold my head up. Then the dildo in my pussy came to life and started to vibrate. Oh ^*%$! This beastie vibrates? I felt the vibrations run through my body – they felt so good! So right! There was no outside world and no distractions. I only felt the pleasure of the vibrator teasing me. I started to breathe harder, and then the vibrator sped up. I felt so helpless - I was not only unable to control the vibrator speed, I couldn't even see who had the controls! That idea really excited me – to be so vulnerable, yet so cared for. I started rocking my hips, trying to thrust against the vibrator. I was panting through the gag, and moaning in pleasure. I developed a rhythm, rocking on the pleasure pole.

The vibrator stopped without warning. I wailed a plea into the gag, bucking on it to encourage whoever had the controls to turn it back on. But there was nothing. I wiggled. I tried to stand and move my hands. I heard nothing, and the bonds remained quite secure. I couldn't get the same stimulation, and eventually my excitement dimmed.

When you have no sight, so movement, no stimulation at all, you lose your sense of time. After what may have been a few minutes, my stimulation resumed – the vibrator. My body focused on my crotch, and the vibrations. I started panting again. It felt so good! It was like I was in my own private cocoon, enjoying a secret rendezvous with a battery powered friend. The vibrator sped up. I was so excited, and time had become meaningless. There was no sound, no sights, only the pleasure from the vibrating penis. A few light moans left my lips as I bucked into the penis. I ground myself into it shamelessly as my juices mixed with the lubrication already there.

The damned vibrator stopped dead again. I squealed into the hood! I bucked against the vibrator. Was Master the bastard doing this to me? Or was there someone else? I was so close! The vibrator was turned back on and I was so grateful to whoever did it. I wanted to orgasm so badly! I started to buck and shake as my orgasm built up. The vibrator went into overdrive, and I my body spasmed as the orgasm crashed over me. My ankles strained at the straps holding me kneeling. My wrists yanked again and again at what held them firm. I tried to move my head. I was yanking on my hair, and it hurt so much, but I just couldn't stop through my orgasmic bliss. I tensed and came in a squeal.

I panted. I could hear my breathing through the grommet. I felt so right. It was my first real orgasm in many months. I was so grateful to Master for allowing it for me. Just as you can't tickle yourself, I find that it takes someone else to really pleasure me. I kneeled in place, perfectly happy and relaxed as time passed.

I might have dozed again. I have no idea in the post-orgasmic bliss. I became much more aware when I felt my hood being lowered. It was unlocked, unzipped, and I felt the pressure easing off of it. I blinked in what seemed to be bright light. When my eyes could focus, I saw Master's smiling face. I looked around. The snacks had been eaten, but nobody else was around now. Clearly hours had passed. It was late. "You did very well Tits. You were quite popular..." He smiled all the wider, recalling something that must have happened. "Some recommendations were made...we'll have to do this again."

He seemed very pleased with me as he released my hands and ankles. I could see a glint in his eye as he blatantly stared at my naked body. I didn't know what he was looking for, so I reached up to my boobs and started to caress them seductively. I looked up at his reaction, and I couldn't tell – dumbfounded? Bewitched? I think I short-circuited his brain. I continued caressing my boobs, and I could envision drool forming as his mind tried to grasp the concept of the boobs dancing in front of him.

He barely moaned out an "Oh...Tits...come with me to the bedroom." He started to back away, never keeping his eyes off of me.

I felt honored. I wasn't generally in his bedroom. I followed behind him on my knees, continuing to run my fingernails teasingly over my boobs, lifting them, and letting them tickle and tease for his viewing pleasure. I feigned innocence as I idly played with my nipple rings, flicking them up and down with a fingernail.

He backed away, up the stairs, and finally sat on his massive bed, still mesmerized. He reached over into his nightstand, and fished out a bottle of massage oil as I crawled up to him. His face was locked in an eager, hungry grin as I took the massage oil, and let a thin drizzle fall onto my breasts, playfully running the stream over one, then to the other.

Master's expression looked like disbelief that he was lucky enough to be allowed to watch my show. Maybe he was thinking something else; maybe the fireworks in his brain were preventing conscious thought. I would never know, but I didn't want to disappoint him. I traced my fingers in the massage oil, and made a show of inhaling the pleasant lilac scent. I caressed my breasts, letting them slip out of my hands, lifting them and letting them slide. I traced a figure 8 around them, highlighting how my hands moved effortlessly over the slick skin.

I looked down and Master had a quite insistent looking bulge in his pants, trying hard to burst through. I ran a finger over it, and Master groaned in excitement. It looked downright uncomfortably penned in. I unzipped his pants, and fiddled with his red boxers until his penis proudly sprang forth. I was inspired, and rubbed a breast against it. He thrust as best as he could against it. So I caressed my boobs, and rubbed a breast against it again. He thrust again.

I spread my breasts around his penis, and then gently squeezed them together, wrapping his penis in slippery boobs. He groaned and leaned back to give me as much access as he could. I gripped my slippery boobs as best as I could manage, and started bobbing up and down his penis. He stared and moaned. He seemed amazed every time I went down and his penis poked forth from my cleavage. I humped up and down on him, and then he put his hand on my head and guided it to look down. No sooner than I had done so that gooey sperm shot forth and splattered a trail from my cheek between my eyes and up my forehead. I gently came to a stop as Master collapsed.