Sally turned Pt. 04

"So you see, pretty, it's our pussy now - ours to play with, ours to touch, ours to fuck, just exactly as we please. So no more panties from now on, ever - at least, not unless we tell you to. We'll give you pleasure, of course we will, but when we want to - not to suit you, pretty - although it is often nice to hear a lovely girl like you beg, so don't stop trying."

And she put a finger to the end of my nose and squished it, just a little, as if I were a cute four year old, and I loved it, even as the hot blush rose to my cheeks.

"Now, keep your hands there for me pretty, I'm going to be cutting near your lovely tits, and I want you to keep very, very still.."

She was back again with the scissors, starting at my chest now - 'what?' I had to take myself in hand, stand still for her, let her do as she will with my best party frock. I found I could get a sort of reflection in the glass of a painting, and gradually it became clear - she was cutting three panels out of the front of the dress - a large central one, down from the collar to the outsides of my breasts, then a curving vee downwards to the centre of my cleavage, exposing the top of my bra. A smaller triangle over each shoulder, leaving only a diagonal strap on either side from the collar to the outer edge of my bust. Then she was behind me, doing something similar, making the dress half backless, as far as I could tell. Looking at the image in the glass, I appeared to have been transformed - from a demure summer party frock, my dress was now a sort of punk fetish version of itself, the preppy collar now more of a choker, the vee cutout directing the eye to my breasts, the shortened skirts exposing most of my thighs - my legs looking longer than I'd ever imagined them.

And then, snick, snick, snick, the bra straps were cut (the most expensive lingerie I'd ever owned, worn about four times, now trash), and my breasts were swaying free in the much loosened bodice of the remains of my dress. My stiff nipples were clearly visible, poking through the thin fabric, even in the half mirror of the glass frame, and most of my cleavage was now on show.

Her hands came onto me again, from behind now, one at my breasts, the other between my legs, and I was moaning again almost at once, hearing her laughing at me, softly, in my ear;

"Well, well, little Sally! Sir James told me that you were a wild one once he got you started, despite the 'butter wouldn't melt' way you carry on, but I didn't think you'd be quite so - " and here she did something rather decisive with the hand in my pussy at that point, and gripped my left breast very tightly, hurting me just enough, in just the right way, to unhinge me, and I groaned loudly, starting low and ending almost on a squeal as she laughed again; " - quite so easy to conquer as this."

And with that she was gone, not just from me, but walking into the kitchen, saying something in a low voice to the girl, whom I'd forgotten all about, leaving me stranded in every way - skirt bunched up, one breast hanging out, sex soppy and hungry for more, mind reeling, tears and laughter and sexual noises all expressed at once, without restraint, as I shook, not daring to release my arms from where they were, as if welded, behind my back, lips trembling, belly fluttering, breath heaving, knees weak; all my efforts going into just staying upright, into not freaking out completely as the reality of what had just happened to me sank in.

I was so frightened, all of a sudden - the depth of what I was being sucked into growing in my mind - this was not just office sex - this was mind games, power trips, humiliation, manipulation - and I was excited about it, fascinated by it, eager for it now, none of which stopped it from being terrifying, and for what seemed like the fourth or fifth time that day I was suppressing hysteria, holding myself together in the face of a great unknown that was clearly going to ravage me - that a large part of me wanted to be ravaged by, even as I knew it would probably destroy me.

And then I was unable to stop myself sinking to my knees, breathing hard, biting my lip to keep from moaning incessantly, needing her back, needing her strength, her certainty, unable to face it on my own, so that I was unbearably grateful to hear her returning, even as it became obvious from the sound of voices that the girl, Gata, was with her - would see me like this; even this I would bear, would accept, in return for Ms F's presence.

"Oh wow! I see what jou mean!"

And she was pointing at me, gorgeous, elegant, sexy, immaculate, laughing at me, my tits out, my hair mussed, my dress so obviously hacked about, rucked up between my legs, make-up smeared, tears in my eyes, lips puffy from the biting.

Ms F was tutting at her, telling her off for being mean, but with a grin that showed she didn't mean it, and I was crying then, real tears, soft, helpless, rolling down my cheeks. no sobs, no outrage, no anger, just acceptance that this would be my lot, that I was happy with it in some weird way.