Used Bitch

Author's Note:

Mistress Pepper and Sophie are "anonymized" versions of me and my slave-girl. The real me. All of my stories are (or should I say will be) my memories of a session with a sub. Thus, they are true stories. Only in this version details have been changed to protect the sub. I do live in Mobile about 10 months of the year (the remaining two I spend in Nizhny Novgorod, Russia, where my father is from and lives), and almost all of my subs live in Mobile or a bordering county. I'm originally from Baldwin County, next door to Mobile. I moved across the bay to attend USA. As is/did Mistress Pepper. But I'm not a blond. And you'll most definitely have to guess at my bra size!

And remember, the names and such have been changed in this version to protect the slutty.

*****

Session Date:

22 July, 2020

This Story Released:

13 October, 2020

Used Bitch

Prologue:

In case this is the first of my stories you've read, there are a few things I've skipped over in this story since there are several other stories I've written about this same sub. I tend to write a story after almost all of my sessions with my toys. But I publish very few of them online.

My name is Pepper Rodgers. I'm a 19-year-old Domme, living downtown Mobile, Alabama. I have a decently well-stocked playroom in the second bedroom of my fourth-floor apartment (most of my neighbors are corporate types who aren't always around, giving me a lot of privacy, even in the halls and elevators). I also have a decently stocked toybox. I prefer my toys to be older than I am, around 30-42 years old. I prefer men for myself, however not for my toybox. When it comes to toys, I find women and couples to be far more amusing. Single men tend to be needier, and often too clingy. But that doesn't mean I don't have a few of them in my toybox. I do. They just don't have the same chances of getting there as couples and single women do.

I'm petite. Actually more "tiny" that petite. I'm 5' 1.75" and 91 pounds. I'm not bony, though, I've curvy, like a small-sized woman. I have blond hair down to my shoulders and blue eyes. Oh, and my chest is the only place I'm not small. I'm a 32-D, and I'm very pert. Which makes me popular with the boys.

I'm also slightly bisexual. I'm attracted to men, not women. I would never choose a female partner for even a date, let alone for sex. But I'm not opposed to masturbating with a female toy. Sophie happens to be my favorite sex toy to pleasure myself with. Her tongue has two big advantages over my vibrator: one, it's very delicate and tender. Two, no matter how much I use it, its batteries never die at the worst possible moment! It's better than fresh bunny batteries, it just keeps going until I want it to stop. And I don't even have to hold it in place!

When I want sex I never use one of my toys. I never allow a toy touch, or even see, all of me. And I never bring a toy to my bedroom. Nor do I chose a woman. I pick a man, usually one I find in a club or cafe, or wherever. I flirt, dance dirty a little and if he meets my standards, I ask if he's interested in a one-time-only, no-names-exchanged, hook-up. I've never been turned down.

I have a few standards for my hook-ups. I never pick a guy I know or even just see around. And I insist on a cock between 7 and 9" long and 1.5" across, plus or minus a small bit. I won't touch a guy who isn't circumcised, either. I hate the way the foreskin feels inside me. I want to feel that fat head. The dirty dancing gives me plenty of time to tease a guy hard and feel for myself what he's got. It's the only way not to be disappointed. Guys always lie about their equipment!

Sophie is my 19-year-old live-in slave-girl. She's slightly petite at 5'4" and 119 pounds. She's pretty, too, with long honey-blond hair, green eyes, and a 34-B chest. Sophie is extremely devoted to me. So devoted, and so happy as my slave, that despite not being attracted to women, she's a virgin with men. She serves and pleasures only me, and those I give her to. And while I use her, even with my male toys, I won't allow any man to touch her pussy or penetrate her bottom. Those are mine. Only mine. I've owned her since she graduated high school, but I've known her longer. Since about two months after her 18th birthday, which was also about two months before she finished high school.

I have three BFFs, (Isabelle, Reagan, and Ellie) none of whom are into my little games. But all of whom occasionally creep into my stories. After all, they are my BFFs so they tend to be around. Luckily they're not offended by anything they happen to see. They're just not eager for me to put on a show on their account.

I also have a circle of five other women friends, all of whom are Dommes as well. Andrea (26), Janelle (35), Colette (39), Diane (43), and Olive (44). we usually get together every couple of weeks for coffee and a little chat about who's doing what to whom lately. We sometimes share, or loan, our toys to each other, but not that often. Sometimes we do a favor for each other, such as providing something different for a toy. Mostly we do what girls do: we gossip.

Chapter 01: Meet The Bitch

I'm between classes, around 2 in the afternoon, when I get a call from Jenny. She's one of my mom's BFFs. And she's the mother of my BFF #1, Izzy. Izzy who was born a mere two months after I was, and who grew up with me. We were always back and forth between our houses, so I know her mom well. And she knows me.

She tells me that her husband called her and asked for a favor. A man he works with has a request. She knows him, too, and his wife. They've been friendly for a while now.

But she didn't know his wife has a "kinky side," as she puts it to me. But she's not surprised they hid it from everyone. She was the toy of a man in the next county over, which means Escambia County. That puts him in Pensacola, Florida. Until yesterday, that is. She had been telling him that she wanted a session. Finally, he emailed back and told her that he'd grown bored with her and wasn't interested in seeing her any longer. Since she read that email, she's done nothing but cry. She didn't even make her two children breakfast this morning, just sulked and cried.

Her husband knew that Jenny and her husband knew my mom, who is rumored to be a Domme. She is, she's just a little quieter about it than I am. He asked his friend if he would do two things. Ask, or have Jenny ask, my mom if she would see his wife or refer him to someone who might be interested. And second, never mention it to anyone, ever, even under torture!

Jenny says she called my mom first and asked. Mom's willing, but she's not available until the weekend. She suggested that Jenny call me. I might have time sooner. And from what little she'd heard, I might be a better fit for the woman anyway. Plus, I'm in Mobile now, not Baldwin county where she, and mom, live.

Jenny asks if I'd be interested in talking to the woman, or at the least if I'd do her a favor and mention her to "the kinky girls." It's what Jenny calls my, and mom's, Domme friends. I tell her to have the man call me. No promises, but I'll talk to him. I doubt I'd get anything more than marginally coherent pleading from his wife. I tell her that I have 30 minutes before my last class. He may call now, or this evening. She thanks me and quickly gets off the phone, saying she'll pass the message immediately.

Her husband must pass it just as quickly. It's only three or four minutes before my phone is ringing again. And this time it's a number I don't recognize that's calling me. I can guess who it is. And I'm right. He quickly introduces himself, and cautiously asks if I know what he's calling about.

"Well, Jennifer didn't give me your name, but I will assume you're calling because your wife has a need for a little dominance in her life, and you're being a good husband and helping her to find it." I think that about says it.

He must, too. Now that he knows I understand, he becomes comfortable talking to me about his wife. He tells me about her previous owner and how just abandoned her. But I have to ask a lot to get any real information from him. Not that he's particularly shy about telling me, he just doesn't know what to tell me.

According to him, his wife seems to "get the itch" about every two or three months. When she does, she'll email him and warn her husband that she has. Then, he'll summon her for a session, or rarely tell her to be available in her home for it. She seems to enjoy, according to him, spankings, kneeling, being verbally humiliated, being "shown off naked," but privately, being penetrated "everywhere," putting on little shows, being tied, being teased, being humbled "like a servant," being embarrassed, begging shamelessly, "things being done to her breasts and other places" (which apparently means things like nipple clamps), and especially very strict discipline during her sessions.

He knows that much because he usually is allowed to watch the sessions she's had in their home. But he does not participate beyond being her audience. Nor does he wish to. However, a few times, He left her unsatisfied for him to "take care of" after He left. And he loved that. She was "especially active" then. I'm sure he means that, in guy-speak, she "fucked him like a minx," he just doesn't want to say that to a girl and sound like a pig. As if I haven't heard it before.

He tells me that his wife is a total basket case without a Dom in her life and that he would like someone to "see" her ASAP. Then he asks a little about me. Good boy, at least he cares who he's asking to whip his wife.

I tell him the essentials. That I'm a 20-year-old Domme, originally from Foley, now a student at USA. That I have a number of my own toys, many like his wife who only likes to play every so often. That I have four years of experience. And that for over a year now I've owned a 19-year-old slave who will be accompanying me to visit his wife. I add that the majority of my toys are his wife's age. I prefer them between 30 and 45. He must like that. He asks if I'm willing to "meet" his wife, and how soon I can make the time.

I ask about her schedule and their kids. Because their kids are little, and thus I won't visit her while they're in the house. Not even asleep. He tells me that the kids have some church function on Wednesday nights, which is tonight, from 5 until 7. A neighbor usually takes them and returns the after ice cream, around 7:45 or so. And he tells me their schedules for the next couple of days.

I ask what time he'll be home. He says he gets off a 4:#0 and will be home by a quarter till five. But if it helps, he can take an hour or two off and be home earlier. I tell him not to. But I am free tonight. I don't tell him that I was planning a long, relaxing soak in a bubble bath while Sophie washed me, and attended to me.

I tell him that I will be over shortly after five. But he is not to mention anything whatsoever to his wife. Not even that he tried to find someone to see her, much less that he did. I will text him about two minutes before I arrive. When I do, he is to find her immediately, wherever she is, whatever she's doing. He is to tell her, very directly, "Miss Rodgers is coming to meet your worthless butt. You are to come with me and wait for Her." Take her to a chair in the kitchen, with nothing in her reach, and tell her "sit here and wait for her. She said you will not move, nor will you speak until you are told to." Then he's to leave her there. As in go somewhere where she will neither see nor hear him. And meet me at the door.

I warn him that I can't say what's going to happen after that. Not that I care if he knows, but I don't know. It will all depend on how she reacts to me and things. When I can see something has a good effect on her, I'll continue in that direction. If it doesn't, I'll move another.

Then, I call Nikolai, a Dom I know in Pensacola, and ask if he knows the man she used to serve. Nikolai laughs and calls him a "sooka." Literally, it translates to "bitch," but in Russian, it can mean so much more. Like "asshole," or "fuckhead." I speak Russian well. I'm half Russian, and I've spent some time there. I get it. I get that I'll never see him at one of Nikolai's parties, too. And likely don't want to. Nikolai tells me that the man is basically a control freak who wants women to worship him, not a Dom. I get that, too. He doesn't care about his subs. He just wants them to stroke his ego. Not to share a mutually enjoyable experience. Yeah, "sooka." I don't bother to get his number, as I first planned to. I no longer care what he thought of her.

They live in Daphne, which is fine by me. I know it just as well as Foley. It's not far from Foley at all. And it has some good shopping. A few minutes after five, I text him. Mike: I am assuming our phones have the same time on them. I will be at your door at exactly 5:15, please open it before I have to knock. Thanks, Pepper. A minute later I get his reply. Dana is heading for her chair now. Thank, Pepper.

I'm there two minutes early. Several seconds before the time, he's waiting with the door open as I'm walking up to. Sophie, off her leash but wearing her collar that never comes off, follow me with a small duffle bag of toys for the night. I greet him and introduce myself just as "Miss Rodgers" in case Dana can hear me. I introduce Sophie only as "my slave." But that's all I ever call her. "slave," not Sophie. He accepts that, and I think he remembers that I told him he's not to tell Dana anything about me, not even my first name, now or ever. He agreed to that.

He shows me to the kitchen. It's not huge, but it is decently sized. Then again, this is Daphne, and poor people don't live in Daphne. I don't think they build especially modest houses here either. It's that kind of city. He has a chair about smack in the middle of the room. With it's back to the archway into the kitchen. It has Dana staring at the range! Oh, it is so perfect! Maybe he sees the grin on my face when I see it.

I take my time walking around to where Dana can see me. Letting her hear my footsteps coming, but not see who is coming. Finally, when I'm in front of her and she can see me, I see some surprise on her face. I know she just assumed that I'd be older than I am. No one ever thinks of a college-girl Domme, except guys making porno movies, that is. But the truth is Domme is what I am. I always have been and always will be. It's me. I just understood myself a little earlier than most do. Plus I haven't changed, so I'm still dressed like a college girl. Casually.

I like to set the tone right from the first word. "I am Miss Rodgers. You are the utterly worthless bitch Dana Jacqueline, who just got herself left in the gutter by being so worthless. As of now, I own you, bitch. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Miss Rodgers," Dana says softly, her voice having a decent accent that sounds to me like a mid-western farm girl.

"Good," I tell her firmly, still keeping voice soft, too. "I don't know what Mr. Dobbs taught you. He is not part of the local Dom and Domme network. You will listen closely. I will tell you once what to do. You will do it. I will give you instructions the first time only that even a goldfish has the brains to follow. Hopefully, you can somehow manage, too. Is that clear to your stupid bitch brain?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Dana answers. Her voice is still soft. But not I can hear the first tinges of nervousness and excitement in it.

"Stand. Rise to your feet. Spread them about a foot's-width apart. Stand up straight. Eyes forward. Hands at the small of your back. And behave. Behave meaning stand quiet and still. Do that now, bitch."

"Yes, Ma'am," Dana answers quickly as she begins to rise. She stands exactly as I told her to.

"Good bitch. Now you know what I expect when I tell you to stand. Do not stand any other way. Ever. Unless I tell you to.

"Now undress. That means to squat down and take off your shoes and socks. Tuck the laces in your shoes and put them neatly beside that chair, then fold your socks neatly and start a pile on top of your shoes. Then, start at the very top of your head. Take off the highest thing on your body. Fold it neatly and add it to the pile. Then start again at the top of your head and go down to the highest thing you have left on your body and take it off. And so one until you are as naked as the day before you were born. You may not leave anything on your body. Not so much as a hairpin. Not even those wedding rings. Nothing at all. You will not turn your back. You will not make any effort to cover, hide, or shade any part of your body. You will undress at a normal, every day, pace. When you are naked, you will tell me you are naked and stand until you are told what to do. Is that too much for you, bitch, or do you understand what you are going to do now?"

"I understand, Miss Rodgers," Dana tells me. I hear both the nervousness and the excitement starting to rise in her voice, too. I guess she likes me so far.

Dana, I can already see, is a fairly average 30-something housewife and soccer mom kind of woman. Or so she looks. She's about average height, a hair on the tall side, maybe 5'7" I guess. And I'd put her weight at "proportional," maybe 145 pounds or so. She has straight hair the color of honey hanging down to her the tops of her shoulders. At the bottom, it seems to develop a little body that makes it look fuller than it is. It frames a slightly ovalish face with very soft and gently-rounded features. I can some deep green eyes beneath honey-colored eyebrows that tell me this is clearly her natural hair color. Then a slightly small and softly-rounded nose. And then, an average mouth that's neither wide not narrow. But it is framed with some soft and plump full lips in a rather light shade of pink.

I can't see too much of her figure yet. She's wearing slightly loose-fitting faded jeans and a bushy black blouse today. But I can see that she's not too heavy. And that she has a curve to her waist. And a very ample chest. All of which I'll soon be seeing in fully-immodest detail.

She actually puts her hands on the top of her head and starts moving them down her body after she gets her shoes off. They stop at her neckline, where they meet the blouse. She unbuttons it, not showing much shyness yet, and slips it from her shoulders. She folds it, squats down, and adds it to the pile. Without her blouse on I can see a little necklace on a thin chain around her neck. And I can see that she's wearing a deep blue bra with enough lace to it that it looks like something she'd wear for her husband. It nicely accents her breasts, leaving a lot of cleavage bare. I just can't tell if she's as pert as she looks, or if the bra is holding those huge mounds up. We'll see. Soon. It won't take her long to get that necklace off.

It doesn't take long. And then, her hands are back on the top of her head, moving down again. It's slightly amusing to see how literally she's following the instructions. But I am so not going to fault her for her diligence. Her hands stop on her shoulders when they reach the narrow straps of her bra. She slips the straps off her shoulders. Then I see her hands going up behind her back. She hesitates for a fraction of a second as her eyes suddenly avert to the side. Then she unclips her bra. I see it fall from her body to hang in one hand as she brings it to her front and starts folding it.

It leaves her naked from the waistband of her jeans up. Which is not the normal way a woman undresses. She'd leave her bra and panties for last. Especially now. Especially since Dana can see that I am clearly inspecting her now-bare breasts with my eyes. That's something that no woman cares for. To have her body so openly sized-up by another woman with a critical eye. Like any woman, it makes Dana feel a little shy and uneasy. And on Dana, it shows. Her hands, not quite fumbling, do take on a slight unsteadiness as she folds her bra up.