The Whipped Heiress Ch. 03

Irini scrunched up her face and was about to launch another verbal salvo at me when a trim woman with professionally styled hair, dressed in a stylish, back dress approached and interposed herself between Irini and me.

"Irini, your mother is looking for you," the posh woman said. "She wants to see you right away."

"But Olympia!" the teen protested, "I've been looking forward to seeing the slave-girl all day!"

"You can torment the slave some other time," Olympia said. "Your mother will be cross if you make her wait."

The headstrong, impetuous teen stormed off in a huff and the stylish lady in black took a glass from my tray of drinks.

"The little baggage has no self-control," the woman said after taking a small sip. "There are people all over this country who enjoy watching naked girls get whipped, but there are certain social conventions and formalities which must be observed. You can't just whip an innocent girl who hasn't done anything wrong."

"She's somewhat fanatical on the issue of seeing girls whipped, Mistress," I responded.

"She's a mischievous, spoiled brat is what she is!" Olympia replied. "If I were her mother, I'd have her stripped naked and whipped on the Public Stage."

"Is that even possible, Mistress?" I asked. "Irini is a free woman, not a slave."

"She's a free woman for now, but that's the sort of thing that can change very quickly. Take away her car, her credit cards and her bank accounts and refuse to give them back until she signs a slave contract...it would take about two or three hours before she agreed to sign."

I had only just met Olympia, but I felt an instant fondness for her. She was tall and majestic and was kind to me. I felt a smile creep across my face as I considered her words. Irini a slave? Could that happen? Could she be whipped on the public stage? And most importantly, would I be allowed to watch along with the other spectators?

The girl really was a sadist. It gave me a small surge of joy to think of her receiving the same sort of stinging pain that she was so eager to inflict upon others.

Olympia seemed dignified even when spoke of her desire to see Irini whipped. I liked her and wished I could talk to her all night; however, she saw someone she knew and before I knew it, she left me and wandered across the room to her friend.

It took time to deplete the supply of drinks on my tray. Most of the people who approached me were more interested in ogling my naked body or copping a feel than sampling the vodka lemonade cocktails on my tray.

"Well, well," a familiar voice said near my left shoulder, "I never thought I'd ever see you serving drinks."

I turned to my left and saw Grace Fuller. She had her phone out and snapped a picture of me just as I made eye contact with her.

Grace Fuller was one of the few people in Sklavia that I knew from my pre-slave days. She was a landscape designer who had done some work for my family. It felt intensely humbling that a woman who used to work for my family to see me naked and doing menial labor.

"Heather, you look so different now that you're a slave," Grace opined. "You look much improved. With all your cool disdain stripped away, you're quite beautiful."

"Was I disdainful as a free woman, Mistress?" I asked, being careful to keep my tone respectful and subdued.

"You said that I was the 'hired help' and there was no reason for a rich girl like you to talk to me. Well, you have to talk to me know, don't you?"

"Yes, mistress," I replied. "I'm sorry I was unkind to you when I was a free woman. I was proud and aloof. It happens sometimes with rich people."

"Well, you're not proud and aloof now," Grace said as she gently placed a hand on my hip. "I like you much better this way. I hope you can remain approachable and humble when your time as a slave is over."

It occurred to me that I would be returning to America after my sixty-day sentence of slavery was over. Grace Fuller would also be returning to America, and she lived in the same locality as me. It was probable we'd run into each other after I regained my freedom.

"I'll try to remain humble, mistress," I replied.

My personality had changed radically since becoming a slave, but once I returned to being a free woman, who knew? I might fall back into old habits. Although, I found myself wanting to hang onto my newfound humility. Grace preferred me humble and approachable, and I found myself now craving Grace's approval.

"I'm pleased to hear that young lady," Grace said as her hand smoothed down to where she could gently cup my left buttock. "But, if you ever backslide and become arrogant, I have salacious photos of you that I could threaten to share with your mother. I'm confident that such a threat would make you humble once again."

A sudden feeling of cold dread spread across my spine. The prospect of my mother seeing photos of me as a naked, libidinous slave filled me with a sort of chilling dread. I felt a simultaneous cold chill and a feverish burst of heat as I considered the very real possibility Grace Fuller could expose my lesbian sex slave adventures to my mother.

"Please, don't ever share those photos with my mother, mistress," I begged. "My relationship with my mother has never been all that strong. If she sees those photos, our already fragile relationship could be destroyed."

"Oh, Heather," Grace said reassuringly, "you have nothing to worry about. "All you have to do is remain humble, congenial and stay on my good side. If you can manage that, your mother never has to know that those photos exist."

_ _

Later that night, Mrs. Bowden unlocked my handcuffs and told me that Grace Fuller was staying in one of the guest rooms and that I was to go to her and provide her with whatever sort sensual pleasures she desired.

Ordinarily I spent the night in Mrs. Bowden's bed. She enjoyed playing with my naked body and having me lick her pink slit. I was surprised that she wanted to loan me out to another woman for the night.

"Grace is a very charming woman," Mrs. Bowden explained. "She and I have become good friends. And I think that it would be good for you to spend more time with working class people. You shouldn't just be a slave to wealthy women like me. You should be a slave to everyone."

Mrs. Bowden escorted me into Grace's guest room. Grace wasn't in it at the time however, I was ordered to kneel at the foot of the bed and wait for Grace to arrive and inform her that Mrs. Bowden was loaning me to her for the night.

"You aren't going to tie me to the bed?" I asked. "Aren't you afraid that I'll wander off or try to escape?"

"I think we've broken your spirit enough that you won't try to do anything so foolish," Mrs. Bowden replied. "If you try to escape, the Department of Slave Commerce has high resolution photos of you they can give to the police. And your slave collar is locked on your neck, and you can't remove it without the key. So, you'll easily be recaptured and then you'll be taken to the Public Stage where you'll be whipped. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

I assured Mrs. Bowden I didn't want that. Then she kissed me on the cheek, spun around on her heel, and left me alone in Grace Fuller's bedroom. I had been ordered to kneel at the foot of Grace's bed. I knelt with my knees far apart and my hands placed behind the back of my neck. This is an easy pose to hold for short periods of time, however, I had no idea how long it would take for Grace to return to her room and holding the pose turned into a grueling ordeal as it took quite a long time before she made her appearance.

"Well, what do have we here?" Grace said when she finally returned. She had a look of joyous surprise on her face as she looked me over and considered what it meant now that she had a naked slave in her room.

"Mrs. Bowden decided to loan me to you for the night, mistress," I said congenially. "I hope that her act of generosity pleases you."

"Oh, yes," she replied with an enthusiastic smile on her face. "That pleases me very much! This must be my lucky night!"

I was ordered to stand up and then Grace leaned in close and kissed me on the lips. She wrapped her arms lovingly around me and fused her lips to mine. She pulled me in closer and it took me mere moments before I melted into her arms. Since I became a slave, my body was begging to be touched, in any way whatsoever. My body responded positively to Grace Fuller's touch, and it wanted more.

Grace broke from our kiss for a few microseconds and rapidly shed her clothes. She had me help her remove her bra and she removed everything else with impressive haste. And when her clothes were lying in a heap on the floor, she pulled me close and pressed her naked breasts close to mine.

My body yearned desperately to be touched and Grace was eager to touch me. Her hands, her lips, her breasts, her entire body was merged with mine it seemed. I wrapped one arm tightly around her waist and gently stroked her back as we kissed.

Her tongue invaded my mouth and I eagerly let it in. I allowed Grace's tongue to explore my mouth, to slide over and under my own tongue and to excite nerve endings in my mouth I didn't previously know existed. I moaned into Grace's mouth, and I savored the sensations of her touching me everywhere as if claiming every inch of me as her own.

My whole body felt tingly and alive, and it didn't take long before the heated throbbing in my loins was rekindled. My thighs brushed against Grace's thighs and my sex felt even wetter and my clit felt achingly hard.

Grace's kisses had been passionate and forceful at first, but they gradually became tenderer, more affectionate and more lingering. Then her lips separated from mine, and she kissed my naked breasts, quickly locating my nipples and kissing them both and then sucking them hard one after the other, causing me to moan in delirious lust. I felt both my nipples and clit to throb simultaneously, and I lovingly cradled Grace's head in my hands.

Grace licked and suckled my nipples, getting them shamelessly wet and extraordinarily hard, reddened and erect. They were so hard and swollen that they ached. I whimpered and panted, but Grace controlled my nipples and did what she liked with them. I was just a slave and could do nothing to stop her.

The more she lavished attention on my nipples, the more my loins tingled and suffused with feverish sexual heat. I gasped and panted, but Grace refused to take me all the way. My pubic lips became wet and swollen and my clit became painfully hard and peeked out from its hood.

Then Grace put a hand in between my legs. She painfully pinched my swollen labia and then she roughly kneaded my sex until my breathing became labored and interspersed with gasps. Then she suddenly inserted a finger deep and forcefully into my throbbing wet sex.

"Aaahhh!"

I let out a girlish gasp and then Grace withdrew the finger only to impale my sex again, this time with two fingers. And this time it felt as if she was probing even deeper into my sensitive sex.

"Aaaahhhh," I gasped and then Grace withdrew and shoved three fingers forcefully into my sensitive vagina. She thrust her fingers into me roughly, forcefully, again and again, making me moan, pant and sob. Harder and harder she worked her fingers into me and then just as I was on the verge of a potent orgasm, she grabbed a sensitive nipple with her free hand and pinched it cruelly just before the jarring explosion of libidinous pleasure erupted from my loins.

The delicious pain of my nipple being tormented only seemed to add to the intensity of my final, mind-shattering orgasm, and I let out a wanton, indecent cry that was so utterly loud and passionate, my scream may well have been overheard by every person on the estate.

The orgasm washed over me and swept me helplessly along with it. I was overpowered and my body trembled as my sex throbbed in hungry spasms and contracted around Grace's strong fingers. I spread my legs even wider, yearned to feel even more submissive and vulnerable to my Mistress Grace. For several delicious moments I gloried in the sensation of Grace's fingers deeply penetrating me and forcing my body to submit to her.

I was still impaled on her fingers when she kissed me on the mouth once again. I moaned and kissed her back as much as I was able. I was physically and emotionally drained and could barely control my motor functions anymore.

My body was permeated with post-orgasmic bliss and my breasts heaved as I panted. I rested my head on Grace's naked shoulder and I felt utterly safe and content in her arms. The enormity of the orgasm I had just experienced shattered all my preconceptions of Grace Fuller. I was now enamored with her. It was as if she bewitched me with her talented fingers and her seductive tongue and made me her naked and loyal plaything.

For a long while the only noise in the room were the sounds of my labored breathing. Then, I broke the silence by saying, "Mistress, when I return to America, will I ever see you again?"

One of Grace's hands drifted down to cup one of my sore buttocks and she inquired, "Would you like to?"

"Oh, yes," I replied dreamily, "I would like that very much."

For a while we just held each other with Grace's naked body pressed lovingly into mine. She told me that she was a very lucky woman that a sexy teenager like me wanted an older woman like her. I told her that she was clever and talented and knew how to use me and manipulate my body better than I did. I delighted in having her hands possess my naked body and I wanted her to do so again and again.

Grace kissed me and played with my nipples again, rolling the pink nubs between her thumbs and index fingers until they were swollen and erect. I moaned into her mouth and soon my pussy was throbbing with need again.

Grace hugged me affectionately and then she reached between my thighs and felt my pubic lips once again.

"Are you going to finger me to orgasm again, Mistress?" I asked and began to writhe as her hand stroked my sensitive labia and made them even more swollen and tender.

"Just the opposite, my greedy little slave-girl," Grace replied, as I squirmed my hips shamelessly. "Now you're going to get down on your knees and use that tongue of yours to service my pussy."

I eagerly dropped to my knees. I found myself wanting to be submissive to Grace and kneeling before her and pleasuring her womanhood with my tongue was an excellent place to start.

Grace stood over me, her puffy, pink pubic lips just inches from my face and said, "So, there's a tradition in Sklavia. Slaves who perform oral sex on their master of mistress are expected to do well. If they do poorly, they get punished. If you do an inadequate job of licking my pussy, do you feel I should punish you for it?"

It was the sort of question that should have filled me with dread, but I found it to be strangely thrilling. A wave of desire passed through me as I felt the weight of Grace Fuller's dominance over me. I felt as if I belonged to her even though my slave contract specified that I was the property of Karen Bowden.

"If you feel that I have failed you, I shall gladly accept whatever punishment you feel is fitting," I replied. I was carried away by my feelings of abject submissiveness towards her. I had become smitten with her as she displayed the perfect combination of wicked dominance and loving sensuality as she handled me.

"What a perfect response," Grace replied, smiling down at me. "You do realize that even if you do an excellent job, I may still punish you, merely because if gives me pleasure."

That frightened me slightly. Slaves fear punishments, but sometimes we find them to be darkly exciting. My sex throbbed at the thought of being punished by Grace Fuller. Maybe I was delirious as my body was still thrumming with post-orgasmic ecstasy, however, the sensations of fear and vulnerability of knowing that Grace could punish me, and I was helpless to stop her ignited a pulsing fire in my loins.

My buttocks were already sore from the cruel spankings I'd received earlier that evening, and I should have been dreadfully afraid of any additional punishments so soon.

But when Grace threatened to punish me, I felt a thrumming sense of sexual excitement and I recklessly decided that I wanted Grace to make good on her threat.

"Mistress, if it gives you pleasure, you should punish me. It is a slave's duty to provide entertaining diversions for her mistress. Use and abuse my body in any way that gives you pleasure."

"If you keep talking like that, I may reach climax before you ever work your tongue into my vagina. Your submissive attitude combined with your exquisite body and that sweet, innocent, girlish face absolutely makes me melt. You don't even realize the potently seductiveness that you're using on me, do you?"

"Slaves are supposed to be captivating sex objects, mistress," I replied.

"Well, you've succeeded in becoming that," Grace replied. "Perhaps after you've licked me to orgasm, I'll punish you simply because it would be entertaining to see you writhe and scream."

My head swam at her words, and I found myself falling in love with her. It was insane, I know, but the more she spoke of punishing me, the more I adored her. She was just a landscape designer, but I found myself wanting to be her naked plaything, to be possessed by her, to be objectified by her and to be punished for her entertainment.

"If you punish me, I'll try to scream prettily for you mistress," I said in a sweet, innocent, demure, little-girl tone of voice. Grace sucked air in through her teeth and gave me a look of utter adoration.

"I have a leather strap in the top drawer of my nightstand," Grace said. "Crawl over there and fetch it for me."

My heart leapt happily in my chest, and I crawled swiftly. Being punished by Grace would create a powerful emotional bond between us that I urgently wanted. I opened the drawer and removed the leather strap. It was long and thin and looked like it could inflict a wicked degree of pain on a naked girl's skin.

"That's a good slave-girl," Grace said as I retrieved the cruel strap from the drawer. "Now carry it to me in your mouth."

I held the leather strap in my mouth and crawled on my hands and knees to Grace. It was a deliciously erotic scene with Grace mastering me and me being utterly submissive. Grace took the leather strap from my mouth, smiled and said, "Good girl."

With Grace standing ominously over me, holding her wicked leather strap, she ordered me to begin lapping at her pussy. I took her firm, high buttocks in my hands and pushed my face into her beautiful pink slit.

I eagerly worked my tongue across the swollen folds of her pubic lips. First, I licked at the pink labia on the left, then the puffy labia on the right, then the slippery cleft in between.

Grace's sex was seeping moisture even before I began to work my tongue between her legs. I attempted to lick away all of her leaking juices before I focused any of my attention on her clit or her g-spot. I used smooth, slow licks, starting at the bottom, near her asshole and working my way up to the top. Grace's sexual juices had a buttery taste to them and for some reason I found that to be exotic and thrilling.

Grace began moaning almost from the first lick. I took this as a compliment and felt rather proud that I was doing well enough to make her moan. I adored the sounds that were coming from her mouth and once I had licked all traces of fluids from the exterior of her sex, I worked my tongue inside of her and probed her moist interior. Her moaning became much more intense at this point, however, she insisted that I should focus my attention on her swollen clitoris.

"Oh, God," she gasped when I licked the hood away from her swollen clit and her legs seemed to go wobbly. She dropped her leather strap and grabbed onto a nearby chair in an apparent effort to keep from falling down. I lapped at her clit lovingly, marveling at how hard her pink nub was. Her whole body trembled as I repeatedly brushed my tongue against her delectable clit, and I knew it wouldn't be long before she climaxed.