Popularity Ch. 05

On my first day as a slave, I was informed that I would be required to cater to the sexual whims of any OPS employee who desired me.

Of course, quite a few of the OPS employees in the Sacramento office took advantage of the situation. Handlers, IT specialists, security guards, medical staffers, accountants, and physical trainers all used me to satisfy their kinkiest sexual desires.

There was one employee, named Keira, who was interested, but she had to wait in line behind other employees that were above her pay grade. You see, Keira was a receptionist, and a relatively new hire at that. She was the lowest paid employee in the entire building, so her requests to have sex with me were placed at the bottom of the pile. She had to wait until other, more valued employees had their turn with me.

Keira was young, innocent looking, well-groomed and dressed conservatively in a white button-down shirt, black skirt, black blazer, black stockings and black patent leather shoes. She had kind eyes and no matter how I searched her face; I could find no sign of the sadistic tendencies that were commonly on display in so many of the other OPS employees.

Since Keira was so soft spoken and innocent looking, I was expecting her to go easy on me when she got her opportunity to get me all to herself.

Note to self: just because someone looks innocent and harmless doesn't mean that they are innocent and harmless! Appearances can be deceiving!

There were at least a dozen rooms in the Sacramento office where a free man or woman could take a slave to have sex. Each room was different and set a different mood.

The room that a master or mistress chose gave the slave a hint about what might happen during their sexual encounter. One room looked like a gynecologist's medical exam room. It had a gynecologist's chair with leather straps to secure the slave to the chair, wide open and helpless.

Other rooms had more aquatic themes with showers or a large hot tub. Then there was the one that looked like a classroom, with the word DETENTION written across the blackboard in big, bold letters. There was another that had a medical look, with hospital beds, only all the beds had leather restraints to strap the patients down by their wrists and ankles.

I assumed that Keira would find the most innocent of all the rooms and escort me there.

Instead, she escorted me into a room with disconcerting, shadowy lighting and a stainless-steel table. There was also a large mirror that took up almost an entire wall. It reminded me of a police interrogation room.

"Up against the wall," Keira ordered. "Hands above your head, palms flat against the wall, legs spread!

It was an awkward pose. The handlers and trainers call it the 'wall pose' and they teach it to the slaves as it's a pose that leaves the slaves feeling exposed, helpless and vulnerable.

While I held this pose, Keira proceeded to run her hands all over me, from my shoulders down to my ankles, feeling me up. She touched me everywhere, but she paid special attention to my breasts, buttocks and nipples. The way she felt me up mimicked a policewoman frisking a felon. Of course, I was naked so there was zero chance of her finding any hidden weapons or contraband on my person.

Then she snapped on a latex glove.

"You're a bad girl, Alex," Keira insisted. "So, that means we can't trust you. So, we'll have to do random body cavity searches to make sure you're not hiding any contraband. Now spread those legs!"

My legs had already been far apart. Shuffling my feet apart even further, I ended up in a pornographic stance with my anus and moist pubic lips shamelessly on display. Keeping my legs spread so far apart also put a strain on my inner thigh muscles.

I was working up the courage to ask Keira how long I would have to maintain this challenging pose when I felt her fingers on my pussy. She grabbed my labia with one hand, then shoved two fingers deep inside me with the other hand.

"Aaahhh," I gasped as I felt the fingers inside of me. Keira thrust and wriggled her strong fingers, exploring every inch of my sensitive interior while I struggled to remain in position with my hands pressed against the wall and my legs spread indecently far apart.

I moaned and almost immediately felt an orgasm approaching. Keira may have been doing a body cavity search, however as she roughly fingered my aching cunt, it felt more like she was trying to bring me to a wild and screaming orgasm.

I gasped and whimpered as Keira fingered my pussy and drove my levels of desire and sexual need ever higher, making my loins throb with an urgent, ravenous hunger.

"Keep your legs spread far apart," Keira demanded coldly as she continued to torment my sexual core, driving me mad with lust, but refusing to allow me any sexual relief.

I continued to whimper, and my thighs continued to tremble and shake, and just when I thought my orgasm was inevitable, Keira withdrew her fingers. They came out covered with hot, sticky fluids.

"Keep your legs spread like that," she ordered. "We're not finished yet."

I was panting in frustration and felt deeply humbled when Keira grabbed the cheeks of my ass and pulled them roughly apart. Some sort of cold, thick gel was smeared into the delicate pink flesh between my buttocks, and I didn't even have time to take a deep breath before she plunged a finger directly into my anus.

"Aaaahhhh," I gasped inarticulately as that finger speared me deep. "Keira!"

"That's mistress to you, slave girl," Keira snapped.

"Sorry, mistress," I replied automatically. Somehow Keira had gone from a soft-spoken innocent to a harsh mistress. It was like watching Snow White transform into the evil queen. My heart pounded ridiculously fast in my chest as I attempted to deal with this unexpected change.

It was hard for me to maintain my position with my legs spread so ridiculously wide and that finger moving around inside of me, but I felt Keria's authority overwhelm me. I screwed my eyes tightly shut and gritted my teeth and made a herculean effort to ignore what that strong finger was doing inside me, struggling to maintain my difficult posture.

I breathed a sigh of relief when her finger slipped out, but then I was caught off guard when she thrust into my ass again, using two fingers this time. The fingers went in hard and deep.

"I like those whimpering sounds that you make when you're impaled on my fingers," Keira whispered as she leaned in close to my ear. "Make more of those."

Making more sounds of distress was not a problem. I'm not sure if I could have stifled my gasps and whimpering if I tried.

"Oh! Ah! Aaahhh! Aaaaahhhhh!"

Keira began to jam her fingers brutally in and out of my ass. I felt my legs getting rubbery as her fingers plunged deep inside me. Her strong fingers continued to assault my tight anus, and it felt like rape. At some point, my submissive instincts kicked into overdrive, and I found myself wanting Keira to abuse me. I wanted her to make me feel helpless and vulnerable.

I breathed an audible sigh of relief when the impalement of my ass finally ended, when Keira's fingers slipped out of me. She stripped off her latex glove and said, "No contraband. I was sure a bad girl like you would be hiding something. And here I was hoping to find a pretext for punishing you."

I was still recovering from being vaginally and anally probed and my head was reeling. I wasn't thinking clearly. I'm guessing that it was my lack of mental clarity that caused me to say the words that came out of my mouth next.

"If punishing naked girls is all that important to you, why not punish me anyway?"

The moment the words left my mouth, I knew I'd made a horrible mistake. I raised my head up and looked over my shoulder at Keira. Her eyes were lit up with a curious sort of passion, and a wicked smile spread across her face.

"You presumptuous brat," Keira said. "I'll teach you to get cheeky with me."

If there is ever a book published by a slave, with advice for slaves, in the very first chapter there's going to be a rule that slaves should never say anything to provoke their masters or mistresses into giving them more punishments. Masters and mistresses will give you plenty of punishments without you giving them encouragement.

Learn from my mistakes.

Keira went over to the other side of the room, grabbed a chair and pulled it away from the stainless-steel table. She sat down on the chair, looked at me expectantly, and said, "Come on now, naked girl. Get across my lap."

As I scurried to go over Keira's lap, I got a look at myself in the large wall mirror. I looked frightened and sweaty, but my nipples were conspicuously erect. Yes, I was afraid of Keira, and I dreaded the punishment that was in store for me, but I was also undeniably aroused.

I got across her lap and raised my bottom up, placing my palms flat on the floor. Keira spent a few minutes fondling my buttocks before the spanking, squeezing each individual buttock, testing their firmness, then rubbing her hands up and down the curves of my ass.

"Beautiful," Keira said as her hands took ownership of my hindquarters, "but this beautiful backside will look even better after I've added a splash of color to it."

The very first slap of her hand on my bare bottom stung fiercely, far more than I was expecting. I yelped and squirmed, and then the second blow quickly followed the first. My naked body jerked across Keira's lap; I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out. Keira was a petite girl. She didn't look very strong, but her right arm had quite enough strength to deliver powerful stinging swats to a naked girl's bottom.

Another blow landed, and then another. In the beginning, my pride kept me from crying out. Keira looked like an innocent, little girl. Crying out in pain and sobbing across little Keira's lap would somehow be so much more shaming than sobbing over Mistress Rose's lap or one of the security guards when they spanked me.

Every blow of her hand inflicted a fresh sting on my bare skin. I closed my eyes tightly, gritted my teeth and writhed with every blow.

The pain mounted as the blows continued, and I realized that at some point I had started crying out in pain. The pain grew more intense as Keira's blows began landing lower down, striking the tender spot where my buttocks joined up to the backs of my thighs.

"Aaaaaaghhhhhhhh," I cried out, thrashing violently on her lap, but Keira just wrapped her left arm, also way stronger than I expected, around my waist, to keep me from rolling off her onto the floor.

I kicked and squirmed and made shamefully loud noises of distress as Keira's impressively strong right hand inflicted more painful, stinging slaps to the backs of my thighs. My face was soaking wet with tears, and I was amazed by how much pain little, petite Keira could inflict with just her bare hand.

The stinging blows stopped, and then Keira demanded, "How's that? Better than Broughton?"

Lorrain Broughton was one of the OPS security guards. She'd had the opportunity to use my body for her kinky desires on three different occasions, whereas Keira was just now getting to play with me. I think the security guards were being guaranteed more time with the slaves than the office staff and Keira probably resented that. And since she couldn't beat up the security guards, she took out her frustrations on my poor, innocent bottom.

I assured Keira that she spanked me better than Broughton or any of the security guards. That seemed to make her happy, but she wasn't done with me yet.

"Your bottom looks even sexier now, with some color," she said. "But it could be redder. What do you say to twelve or thirteen more swats?"

I didn't have a ready reply to that question. My bare bottom was already a riot of stinging pain. Thirteen more swats would be agony.

Although, I'm pretty sure it was a rhetorical question. Before I had a chance to formulate an answer, Keira began spanking me again.

The room was filled with the rhythmic sound of Keira's hand sharply slapping my naked backside and my pathetic, girlish cries of pain. Tears flowed freely down my face and my throat felt raw from screaming. And yet, the pain felt deliciously sweet and agonizing at the same time. When the spanking finally ended, my sex was moist, and my clit was achingly hard and throbbing.

I remained there, naked across her lap, sobbing and wiping the tears from my face.

"Now, get over to the mirror," Keira ordered. "I want you to get a good look at the marks I put on you."

I padded over to the large mirror and turned so that my ass was facing the glass. Looking over my bare shoulder, I could see that my shapely ass was quite red. Keira hadn't gone easy on me, and her handprints overlapped each other, creating one angry, red blush across both my buttocks and the backs of my thighs.

"Those red handprints and the tears welled up in your eyes really enhance your beauty. You should be spanked every day just to maintain the color."

"Yes, Mistress," I said, and I felt a soft, wet pulse in my loins. I was naked, exposed, with a tear-stained face, and my ass felt like it was on fire, while Keira was fully clothed and imperiously giving me orders. It made me feel vulnerable, inferior and submissive, and something about that was stirring up my libido and making me feel deliciously controlled.

The next thing I knew, she was standing right in front of me. She wrapped her arms around me and let me cry on her shoulder while she nuzzled my neck and nibbled on my earlobe. I could feel the buttons of her shirt pressing into my naked torso as she held me close. Something about the feeling of her clothed body against my naked flesh made me feel more like a slave, and that added fuel to my sexual arousal.

"You make me happy," Keira whispered into my ear. Then her face brushed gently against mine before she found my lips, and suddenly we were kissing.

Keira was a passionate, diligent kisser. My sobbing eventually stopped, and I melted in her arms. I felt Keira's tongue as it attempted to invade my mouth, and I parted my lips wider to allow her access.

I moaned into Keira's mouth as her tongue slid intimately across my tongue and explored. I allowed her to explore as much as she desired and felt my pussy throb more urgently as I allowed her more and more access to my body.

We made out like a couple of amorous teenagers, and at some point, her hand slid between my legs and found my glistening wet pubic lips. She massaged my swollen labia, moving her fingertips across my sensitive flesh in a circular, clockwise motion. Then her thumb pressed against my clit, causing it to urgently throb while two of her fingers slid wetly into my vagina.

"You're soaking wet," Keira said as she felt up my pussy. "I am so lucky to have such a libidinous slave! You get soaking wet from being spanked?"

"It's my submissive nature," I explained as she continued to finger my sex. "Being helpless, vulnerable and overpowered by a woman like you excites me."

"Ooh," Keira enthused inarticulately. That sound was an indication of how wholeheartedly she approved of the way that I got sexually excited at being spanked.

I was naked, in a police interrogation room, while a fully clothed woman probed my wet sex with her fingers. I envisioned what I must look like, naked, red-assed, my hair in disarray and my face stained with tears and my legs spread wide so Keira could work her fingers deep inside me.

And with that visual image in my head, my orgasm built inside of me and gathered strength. I moved my hips and pelvis in a lewd, shameless manner without even meaning to. I thrust my sex into Keira's fingers, straining for greater contact, like I was some sort of wanton slut. I felt abused, demeaned, excited and exhilarated all at the same time. Being raped by Keira's fingers after she mercilessly reddened my ass was both humiliating and arousing.

Beads of sweat broke out on my naked body as I neared orgasm and I found myself adoring Keira's mastery over me. I wanted to be Keira's naked plaything. I felt like I deserved to be punished and used by her.

My orgasm came suddenly, a wave of pleasure washing over me and sweeping me helplessly along. I threw my head back, screamed boisterously and shut my eyes tight. It occurred to me to wonder if there was someone on the other side of that mirror watching me. Weren't mirrors in police interrogation rooms designed to allow people on the other side of the glass to watch interrogations?

"Uhh! Huh! Aahhh! Aaahh! Unnhh! Aahhh! Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!"

I gasped and panted my way through an orgasm that seemed to go on for hours. Wave after wave of libidinous bliss thundered through my body until I was totally spent.

When Keira removed her fingers from my pussy, they were glistening and coated in my juices. She brought her hand up to my mouth and I parted my lips submissively so I could suck my juices off her fingers. I had never thought of my mouth as an erogenous zone, but as Keira's fingers invaded my mouth and brushed repeatedly across my tongue, the whole experience seemed so intimate and sensual.

Keira and I looked into one another's eyes as I dutifully licked and sucked and kissed her fingers and hand. I felt so humiliated and aroused as we kept staring at one another.

* * *

Being a slave isn't about feeling safe and secure. It's about being awash with feelings of fear and helplessness. The exquisite thing about that is that the delicious feelings of fear and helplessness dramatically inflame my sexual arousal. Since I became a slave, my nipples are always hard, and my sex is constantly throbbing with wet, hungry spasms.

Once more I wondered: was I a natural masochist? Did my indoctrination to slave life simply bring out something that was already inside of me? Or did the OPS have proven methods for turning good, decent people into submissive pain sluts? Or was my new body deliberately designed to become sexually aroused in response to bondage and punishments?

And still there was nobody I could go to for answers, so I just continued muddling forward, trying to endure in my new life as best I could manage.

One of the women who kept me swept away on a tidal wave of delicious fear and helplessness was Mistress Rose. Mistress Rose was a regular visitor, about thirty-six years old, with high cheekbones, red hair, custom tailored clothes and a propensity for punishing naked slaves.

I adored Mistress Rose. I adored it when she used the paddle or strap on my bare bottom. I found the pain to be delicious. So, when she arrived Saturday morning and said she wanted to borrow me, my heart pounded in my chest and I waited eagerly to see what she would do to me this time.

Almost immediately she had me turn around and place my hands behind my back so she could handcuff me. With my wrists secured behind me my feelings of helplessness and vulnerability ramped up, automatically triggering a soft, wet pulse in my loins.

"It's good to see you again, Mistress," I said breathlessly.

That earned me a warm, passionate kiss and then the redheaded mistress said, "It's good to see you too, dear. Are the cuffs tight enough?"

"Another notch, if you want," I answered, wanting to show my willingness to submit. She stood behind me and clicked the cuffs even tighter. It was unreal how excited this made me. I was naked while she was clothed, I was bound with metal cuffs biting painfully into my wrists while she was free to do whatever she wished. It was frightfully illogical, but these unfair contrasts in our status made my pussy throb with maddening need and anticipation.