Torture By Feather

Last month I finally finished high school, and for a graduation present mom got me my own apartment -- lease paid -- and gave me a generous budget to furnish it. She found me one in Mobile, downtown on Dauphin Street, two blocks from her "spare apartment." While we live across the bay in Baldwin County, mom has kept that apartment for several years just to play around in. So those she plays with wouldn't ever show up at our house or even know where we live.

This place is so perfect for me! I'm on the fourth, the top, floor of the little building. There's an indoor pool, a business center, and a gym in the basement. The ground floor, street level, is all cafes and clubs. The casual places that attract the tourists, and the places with the good bands. It puts me right in the middle of the "action," or what passes for action here. And it's not too far from USA, where I start classes in September. It's a good school, but not one of the greatest. I got accepted to every school I applied to, including mom's alma mater of Auburn and their arch-rival of Alabama. USA is the next best school around, and it's close, and I wanted to stay close.

About four months ago I met Sophie, my personal slave, through a very roundabout introduction. She's two months younger than me, which means she was also 18 then, and like me, she was in her last year of high school. From the first time I met her, she started spending her weekends at my place. Well, then I didn't have a place, but mom let me borrow her spare apartment. Once school ended, I just didn't send her back home to her parents. I didn't ask her. I didn't even tell Sophie she was staying. I just didn't tell her to leave, so she stayed, and stayed with a huge smile on her face. I did call her mom and tell her that Sophie was going to be staying so they wouldn't worry about her. By then her mom was used to me calling and telling her what Sophie was doing.

I'm sure Sophie has figured it out by now. That weekend I had a housewarming party, where all my close friends came over and just hung out for a girl giggle-fest. Sophie served us. But my friends knew about her. They'd met her before. She always serves. The following day I had Sophie prepare a nice supper for guests. I didn't tell her the guests were her family. She figured that out when they arrived. She served our supper. But she also got to spend some time with her half brother and sister. She also got to sit there in silence, while I talked with her parents about her future.

I'd decided that Sophie, who's GPA was about .1 under getting into a decent four-year school (weighted down by the lesser grades she'd gotten before meeting me. Grades like C's, which I would never tolerate.), would be starting at the local community college, then transferring to USA for their veterinary assistant program. Her parents agreed that Sophie would love that career. I know enough about their financial status to know that could pay for her education, but also that it would be a heavy strain on them. When they brought up paying for it, I told them that she's my "girl," and I take care of my girls. I will take care of it. Even though I don't plan for Sophie to work, I want her to have a skill should she ever need it.

It was an unusual conversation. Mostly because while I told them what future I'd decided on for Sophie, and we talked about how that was going to happen, Sophie had to just sit in silence. She didn't get any input into her future. But I knew she'd love it. And the look on her face as she heard it says I was right. I did have her walk her family to their car, ostensibly to cart some leftovers for them, but really to give her a few minutes alone with her mom. The next day her mom text me that Sophie had told her she was so happy with the idea.

It's a little surprising when I get a text from Vicki -- Sophie's mom -- saying she'd like to talk to me about something and asking if I would meet her sometime, no rush. I text her back to let me know what's good for her, I'm just playing around this summer and don't have much of a fixed schedule, other than the two summer classes I'm taking at USA. Call me an over-achiever. She texts back that I pretty much know her schedule, too, work and home, would her lunch hour work for me? I text her back that's fine, when and where, and I'm there. We agree to meet at a Wendy's across from her work.

We chat for a while about Sophie. I can immediately tell that's not what she really wanted to talk to me about, but it is her daughter, and she's not going to pass up the opportunity to chat about her. Even though I'm big into scrap-booking online, and her mom has access to the page, where there are like a zillion pictures of Sophie, too. Such as from Saturday when I'd gone to the beach, Sophie in a new, sexy and skimpy, lime green bikini and her matching collar. The collar that never comes off now that she stays with me.

Finally, she gets to what she wanted to talk to me about. I can tell before she says a word because she suddenly looks a little uncomfortable. She starts with an apology for telling anyone about me, but it was just a couple of her closest friends, and she says, it was Sophie she was telling them about. I tell her I don't mind. While I don't advertise my lifestyle, those close to me know. And I don't make a secret about it. Were anyone to ask, even that cashier, I'd tell them myself, so it's not an issue to me whom she says what to. As long as it's true. She looks a little relieved.

And still uneasy. She has to explain how she doesn't really understand the D/s lifestyle, or why Sophie would choose it. But obviously, Sophie loves it -- she's never without a huge grin on her face -- and since meeting me, she's pulled herself together, gotten excellent grades, and been a joy to be around. She tap dances around the sexual orientation issue, obviously assuming that both Sophie and I are either bi or gay, and Sophie just never said anything. I explain to her that we're both attracted to guys. D/s isn't really about sex, it's about giving everything to someone, allowing the other to make all the choices for you, accepting the other's discipline, and just knowing that you will be so taken care of. It's about getting her pleasure by giving everything to please me, and seeing that she's making me incredibly happy. Sure there are some sexual components to it, if I didn't have her sexuality, I wouldn't have all of her, and Sophie needs me to have all of her, but it's not about gender. It's about her putting herself aside and giving, especially things she wouldn't otherwise do, and seeing the enormous pleasure she brings me by doing it. I surprise her by telling her that I date men, and Sophie has met a few of my dates. But those guys will never replace Sophie, and will never do any number of things I allow Sophie to do for me.

She finally tells me that apparently, her friends have gossiped. No surprise there, I know girls don't stop gossiping just because we add another candle to our birthday cakes. I regularly gossip with a few other ladies, one who is 46, who share my lifestyle.

Yesterday her BWF -- Best Work Friend -- told her that a good friend of hers, after hearing about Sophie, had asked if she would quietly ask Vicki to ask me if I knew of anyone who might be interested in meeting her. She "kind of knows" the friend-of-a-friend. They've met several times, but haven't gotten to know each other more than casually. She tells me that she thinks Sophie might have bumped into her once or twice. Her name is Shelbie. She's 36, and according to Vicki, cute. Vicki knows she's divorced, has been for a couple of years, and has a couple of small kids that bounce between her and their father.

When I ask what Shelbie is interested in, because every domme has things she likes, and doesn't like, to do, Vicki tells me that she doesn't really know. And kind of doesn't really want to. I'm not sure I'd trust it much anyway since I'm getting it fourth hand. I write a short note on a napkin that says: Shelbie, I see you've heard about me. You will write me a letter and tell me who you are and what possible amusement you might offer me. Miss Rodgers. And of course my email.

I tell Vicki to get it to Shelbie. Once Shelbie answers I'll read her email and decide if she's of any interest to me, and if not I'll let some other ladies know that Shelbie is looking. If she interests any of them, they'll be in touch.

Vicki says, a hint of surprise in her voice, that she'd just assumed Sophie was my only slave. I tell her that she is, and there's not likely to be another. But that doesn't mean I don't play around with "toys," for my amusement. Sophie knows that and is often there while I amuse myself with a toy. Usually enjoying the show with me, sometimes doing some of the "work" for me, while I do not mean sex. Toys don't get that. Ever from me, and thus never from Sophie. They get toyed with, but that's all.

That napkin must have traveled at the speed of light. When I check my email that evening, there's a long letter from Shelbie. After very politely asking me not to "completely humiliate her" by outing her secret desires, she sends me a short story she's written, I'd guess around 1500 words and tells me that's her "favorite" fantasy. She adds a few details about her other fantasies as well, but nothing so detailed. I read it all.

She's also included a summary of her schedule, when she has her kids and when she doesn't, and her work hours, which are her only commitments. It saves me the trouble of asking her that. I think for a bit, then text Ellie, my BFF #3 who makes her spending money by babysitting and ask when she might be available to sit some kids for me. She sends me her schedule, and says "please!" I always pay her better than her going rate, and ask nothing crazy from her for it. She knows about me, and has a pretty good guess what those kids mom, dad, or both are going to be doing, but doesn't ask.

I send Shelbie a short email. Shelbie, this is a one-time-only, yes/no offer. Should you wish to submit yourself, you should understand that I demand total submission. I will own you, your body, everything. You will not have a choice about anything. I will tell you nothing, except what you will do. You will completely belong to me. I will use you for my whimsical amusement, and I assure you I won't care an iota whether you enjoy it or suffer through it. Only that it amuses me. You will have no privacy, no modesty, no anything. You're just a toy for me to amuse myself. I NEVER tolerate any questions from my toys. So don't ask any now, either. If you accept, I will summon you when I wish to use you for my entertainment. You will come. You will do as you are told without question. When I tire of you, I will dismiss you. Until then you are not free to leave, only to amuse me, serve me, please me, or whatever I fancy doing with your body. Shall I summon you and see if I can find some way for your skanky body to amuse me? Yes or no only, skank.

I get back an email with one word "YES" in a font that has to be about 200-point. It fills the screen on my laptop. I guess she liked my offer. So I text Ellie.

Then I forget about Shelbie. She emails again, the very next day, saying how excited she is. I send it back to her with an "automated" reply telling her "All emails to Miss Rodgers require prior permission. This unauthorized email is being returned to you unread. Now, behave your naughty butt." She tries again and gets the same fake auto response.

Monday, Ellie is waiting for her when Shelbie leaves work. She works only part-time, getting off at 1:00 pm so she can be home when the school bus drops her kids off at 2:30. Ellie easily spots her, few are leaving at that time anyway, and Shelbie provided a decently accurate physical description.

Ellie assures me that she followed my instructions exactly. That was for her to simply walk up to Shelbie and ask her if she was Shelbie. Once she said yes, Ellie was told to tell her "Miss Rodgers wishes to use that body for her entertainment. Get in the car, say absolutely nothing, and behave, skank." I'd asked Ellie not to say anything else. But I did predict that Shelbie would resits a little, saying that her kids were due home. Ellie just repeated the line until Shelbie resigned herself and obediently got in the Uber. Ellie text me en route that Shelbie seemed "very squirrely" and uncomfortable not knowing anything!

When they arrive, Ellie has to ring the bell downstairs to get into the building, so I'm waiting at the door when they come out of the elevator. Shelbie tries to greet me. She gets "Miss Rodgers. It's nice---" out before I slap her face and tell her that I didn't tell her to speak to me. "Skanks only speak when spoken to, and then only to answer far more politely, humbly, and formally respectfully than you've ever been. Now if you understand that, say 'yes, Ma'am.'" Once she does, I let them both into the apartment.

I quickly back Shelbie up until she's standing with her back to the wall. I tell her to spread her feet just enough that her thighs aren't touching, and get her hands behind her back. Then I tell her that she's here to amuse me, nothing else. She is to look forward. It's none of her business what anyone else is doing. She'll stand like that whenever told to stand, and now she'll wait until I tell her what to do.

I call for Sophie and she obediently hurries in and kneels beside me, "Yes, Mistress." She says in a soft and sweet voice. She completely ignores Ellie and Shelbie. Only I matter to her. I tell Shelbie to give Sophie her purse, then her shoes, socks, and sunglasses. I ask her if she has anything else, besides her shirt, jeans, bra, and panties on. She tells me no. I send Sophie to "lock this skanks things in the cabinet." And Sophie hurries off, returning with nothing.

I've already told both what to do, so I don't need to say anything while Shelbie can hear. Ellie makes an excuse, saying she has to leave now, she has a date to get ready for. I tell Sophie to show her out. Well out of Shelbie's sight, Sophie slips Shelbie's keys to Ellie, which Sophie took from her purse while putting it in the cabinet. Ellie gives me a good friendly hug, then another for Sophie, complimenting Sophie on being such a good girl, as always! Then she's gone.

I know that Ellie is going straight to Shelbie's house. She'll let herself in and babysit her kids until I'm done with Shelbie. She'll take perfect care of them, she always does. But Shelbie won't know that. She won't know anything. I want it that way. She's going to learn, a fast hard lesson, what it really means to completely surrender everything to someone. I'm pretty sure that she's actually going to like it.

Ellie has 40 minutes to get to Shelbie's house, which is only about 15 minutes from my apartment, so I'm confident Uber will have her there well ahead of the kids. Mobile isn't that big. So I put Ellie and the kids out of my mind and ignore Shelbie while Sophie fetches me a piping hot cup of my coffee creating of the day. I relax on my love seat, which gives me a perfect view of Shelbie standing and lightly fidgeting. I know she's worried about her kids, what is going to happen when they come off the bus and mommy isn't there. Sophie kneels and serves me my coffee.

I take it and sip it slowly. "Shelbie, in case you haven't figured it out, you now belong to me. I own you. Forget everything going through your worthless head. You are nothing. You have nothing. You're just a toy I bought." As I sip my coffee I run down a few of the basic rules for her, warning her now that I don't tolerate any disobedience from my toys. That she's to as she's told when she's told, at a normal speed. Dragging her feet, going slow, those are just wastes of my time, and I don't like that. She's never to hide anything. Not her body. And not herself. Whatever I ask, she answers with the full truth, no matter how embarrassing that truth might be for her. Once I've told her enough to not get herself spanked in the next few minutes, I tell her to undress. "Which means that you will stand right where you are and take that blouse off, fold it up neatly and give it to my slave. Then the same with your bra, jeans, and panties in that order. When you're naked, you'll stand just as you are. Undress now, skank. Sophie, please go fetch her clothes."

Sophie hurries to get over there and waits as Shelbie takes her blouse off. She's dressed in what I call the "mom look." A loose blouse, and somewhat loose jeans, just enough make-up to look as if she's trying to look good, but not a lot of fanciness to her. Once her blouse is off, I see the look continues with a plain beige bra, modest, but comfortable, like a woman would wear when she knew she wouldn't be seen in it and just wanted to be comfortable for the day. As her jeans come down, I see a pair of simple, inexpensive and modest cotton panties, that scream comfy-on-a-budget. Sophie ends up with those, too.

Once Sophie has all of her clothes, Sophie comes and kneels, then asks me if it would please me for her to lock those in the cabinet as well. I send her, and she's back quickly. I ask her if she knows Shelbie, and she tells me "I've seen her a few times, Mistress, I think she knows my mom." I'm glad that Sophie recognized her. I'm sure hearing that Sophie knows exactly who Shelbie is will make her a little more uneasy.

But now I have a full view of the naked Shelbie. She's pretty much as she described herself, which was as a 5'6", 130-pound woman with natural medium-to-dark red hair down past her shoulder and blue eyes. "Moderate" in her "chest." Which I can now see means smallish soft rounded breasts topped with very faint pink wide nipples, surrounded by huge rings of the same barely-noticeable pinkness. Nipples that are as short as they are wide, swollen hard now, but standing up just barely, like little rounded tips on those mounds that hang just slightly loose on her chest. She's thin, with a nice curvy figure and flat stomach, which is an unexpected treat for me; with two kids, I'd expected a looseness to her stomach. I can see that she has a dense untamed bush of curly red hairs a few shades lighter than on her head. But it's not wild, her bush seeming to grow into a rough triangle with only a few hairs in the creases of her thighs. She has a wide mouth, framed with nice lips a decently dark shade of pink. But what I notice most are the zillions of freckles that liberally dot her body, most noticeable on her upper chest, fading off as the descend until they're light-but noticeable on her face and thighs. She's definitely a cutie, and I'm certain that she must get enough offers for dates.

I leave her waiting as I finish sipping my coffee. It's intentional on my part. I know she's going crazy thinking about her kids. I want her to know that I'm in no hurry. That I'm not concerned about how long she's standing there. I want her to know that I won't hurry my amusement, and whatever commitments she might care about, don't interest me.

Once I finish, Sophie takes my cup back to the kitchen. I wait for her to get back before I rise up and walk over to Shelbie. Sophie demurely follows, staying a step behind me, with her full attention on me. I reach my hand out to Shelbie's chest and cup one of her small mounds in my hand. A little squish tells me they're spongy firm like a hard sponge would be, in my hand. I stroke over her nipple, which can't be sticking up more than about 1/8th inch above the rounded tip of her boob. I easily feel that it's as hard as a stone. "What size are these tiny things, skank?" I ask her, holding the breast in my hand loosely and teasing that nipple with my thumb.

"34-A, Ma'am," Shelbie answers reluctantly, a little embarrassment to her voice.

I release her breast and leisurely stroke my hand down her stomach. It lets me feel the firmness of her muscle and lack of much fat there. The stomach of a nice healthy woman. And her skin is still youthfully taut. I definitely like what I feel. More so as fingers slip through her bush, finding those hairs not hairy but soft and furry.