Mistress owned

[lowblow emma]

Mistress checked my collar and fastened the leash before she let me out of the car. She’s owned me for over three years now, but she still doesn’t trust me not to run.

She set a fast pace along the sidewalk to the alley that led to the club, despite her sling back heels that she wasn’t used to. She wore the same orange dress she always wore on these occasions. It perfectly set off her dark tan, the thin straps cutting across her broad shoulders, although her tits are so small she doesn’t need them to support her rack. The skirt swung from her wide hips and the frilly trim on the hem tossed with every step. I hadn’t seen her dress, but I knew her thong would be orange as well.

As we walked she plied me with questions.

‘What are you wearing under that?’ she asked, turning and pointing to my blue shirt style linen dress.

‘Nothing, mistress, just like you told me,’ I assured her.

‘And did you trim your pubes just like I told you?’ Her tone mimicked mine.

‘Yes, mistress, I did that this morning.’

‘And your ass, are you sure it’s clean?’

‘Yes, mistress, I checked it in the mirror before we left.’

She’d asked me all these questions already, twice, but I didn’t mind. It wasn’t my place to mind, but I understood anyway, although I wasn’t required to understand. Perhaps I wasn’t even allowed to understand, but since I never told her that I did, she had no reason to tell me I shouldn’t be thinking about it. That’s the thing about being a slave, however hard your owner tries, there’s always a part of your mind that remains private and closed to them. Ultimately, that’s what frightens them and makes them wake in a sweat.

‘And there’s no chance of your period starting?’

‘No, mistress, it’ll be at least another three days. My breasts aren’t aching yet and my nipples don’t throb like they do the day before it begins.’

Mistress stopped, grabbed my tits and squeezed hard, twisting at my nipples before she let go. She was worried, you see. Things haven’t been going well at the gym she runs and she needs the money from renting me out at the club. It’s carnival weekend, which always means higher prizes and good business. That’s not necessarily good news for me, but if it’s good news for Mistress, that’s all that matters.

You may know the gym that Mistress runs; it caters for two types of client, or at least it used to. One type is the serious bodybuilder, like her. They keep coming even when money is tight; it’s a form of addiction, you see. But the others, they were business women who pretended to work out but mainly liked watching Mistress in her hipster shorts and tank top. Most of these women stopped coming when the financial crisis hit, which was a pity because she earned a lot in tips from letting the women stroke her muscles and rub against her hard body, and even more for the special services she performed for some. I’m not supposed to know about that, but I’ve read her account books when she’s busy.

Once we were inside the club, she led me to her favourite booth and fastened me to the bar that ran along the back of the seats. She ordered drinks, orange juice for me and gin and tonic for her. Then we waited. Customers could come and look at the slaves and pay for the services they wanted, provided the owner agreed. Mistress was fussy; she didn’t want me damaged, but she wanted the best price she could get for whatever the customers wanted. My feelings didn’t matter, naturally.

These events always attract a lot of gropers and gawkers, as I think of them, women who just want to get me naked and feel me up. Mistress either shoos them away or makes them pay for their pleasure. Regular customers, though, get this for free, or so Mistress says, although I suspect she just ups the price accordingly.

The most serious of the buyers don’t rush over. They watch from a distance, pretending indifference, and then casually pass by a few times, making it seem like I’m not worth the bother. It’s all a game. They’re easy to spot; even I can do it. This time, there was a new one, someone I hadn’t seen before, although she seemed to know the routine, so maybe I just hadn’t noticed her before. She was wearing low heels and black loose slacks with a loose white silk blouse tucked into the waist band. Nothing flashy, quite the contrast to Mistress in her orange.

Finally, as if she had finally made up her mind, she strode over and stood staring at Mistress, like she was trying to intimidate her. But it would take more than that; she just stared right back and asked in a business like tone what she was interested in. I could hardly believe I had heard her answer.

‘Your ass, hun,’ she said.

Mistress didn’t seem fazed.

‘Let’s get a few things straight here. First, if you’re not interested in paying, move off and make way for serious buyers. Second, my ass is not for hire. And third, I am most definitely not your hun.’

‘I am so sorry, Vanessa.’ So she knew Mistress’s name. ‘There’s been a misunderstanding here. I have no intention of paying for your ass. I’m just going to take it. HUN.’ She added with emphasis.

This altercation was beginning to attract attention, which meant it was time for Granny to wander across. She’s the owner, or maybe just the manager, no one is sure, but she is always here, sitting, watching and intervening if necessary. She must be in her 60s, hence her name, no one knows her real name. She’s short, with an intimidating manner that settles most problems, a right hook that resolves most the rest, and a baseball bat behind the bar for everything else.

‘Back off, Kay.’ So Granny knew who she was. ‘You’re fighting over the bitch, right?’ she asked with a nod in my direction.

‘No, we’re not,’ Kay cut off Mistress’s attempt to explain. ‘I have no interest in the bitch. I’m just explaining to Vanessa here that I intend to have her ass. That’s right, isn’t it, hun.’ Before Vanessa, sorry Mistress, could have her say, she turned to the room. ‘And when I’ve finished with her, anyone is welcome to take a turn. Provided,’ she added, ‘you don’t mind blood, because there’ll be a lot of blood when I’ve finished with this.’ She turned away, picked up her bag, and took out a long, black dildo that she waved in the air.

Fuck. It was huge. Longer and thicker than anything anyone had ever used on me.

Mistress’s response was swift. She stepped forward and swung her right fist. Kay swayed back out of reach while the momentum of the blow spun Mistress to her left. She stopped and turned back, right into a left hook that sent her staggering back. Kay closed with her and sent a swift right hook into her left eye. Mistress backed swiftly away, shaking her head and with a cut over her eye that was seeping blood. She was angry now and rushed at Kay aiming to grapple with, but her opponent sidestepped neatly and tripped her, sending her flat on her face.

I expected her to jump on Mistress, but instead she reached under Mistress’s dress and grabbed hold of her thong. Mistress kicked and squirmed to stop Kay pulling it off, but without success. She was left on her back, her skirt up over her hips, her legs splayed and a vicious look on her face. Kay stood looking calmly down at her, waving the thong in the air. The message was obvious: that would save her taking it off later.

Mistress rose slowly, her eyes never leaving Kay’s, a look of determination on her face. I’ve see that look a few times before and it always meant trouble. On one memorably occasion it meant trouble for me. Kay stood calmly until Mistress was almost upright. Then she lashed out with her foot, but Mistress must have been expecting something like that, as she grabbed Kay’s leg and moved in, bringing her knee up into her crotch. Kay grunted and grabbed hold of Mistress’s short cropped hair, and smashed her face with a headbutt. Mistress released her grip on Kay and staggered back, blood streaming from her nose. As she was shaking her head, Kay took hold of her dress and ripped it down the centre, leaving it handing in tatters from the straps.

As Mistress was tearing the dress off her shoulders, Kay kicked off her shoes and casually removed her skirt and slacks. She was wearing full pants and bra in maroon. No lace or silk, nothing skimpy or revealing, just good quality that flattered her body.

For a while both fighters stood looking at each other. Now that I could see Kay’s body, it was obvious that she was strong and muscular too. Mistress would need to get in close and personal in order to use her weight advance. She must have realised that too, because she rushed Kay and grabbed her in a fierce bear hug. Kay saw her coming and raised her knee, but the impact didn’t stop Mistress, who squeezed and crushed her opponent, oblivious to the pain that must have been burning in her pussy.

But despite the pain Mistress was causing, it would ease as soon as she realised Kay. If she wanted to win this contest, she needed to make a lasting impact. As the thought came into my head, she tripped Kay who landed on her back on a low table with Mistress’s full weight crushing her. She cried out in pain, as the table cut into her spine. Mistress immediately seized the advantage, pulling Kay off the table and throwing her face down onto the floor before dropping with her knee in the small of her back.

It looked like she was going to win this contest. Kay was winded and in a lot of pain; everyone must have been thinking the same as I did at that moment. But we were all wrong, because Kay had a weapon none of us took into account: she began to speak.

‘Is this the best you’ve got, Vanessa? All brawn and no brain, just a lump of muscle. You can’t get a woman unless you own her. Just look at your body, go on, take a look at yourself. Why would anyone want someone like you, with your leathery skin and tight little cunt? Tight ass too, you’ll squeal like a big with that dildo fucking you.’

On and on, she went, all in the same vein. Mistress was getting more and more riled as Kay spoke. She just couldn’t let her words wash off her. And that was her undoing. She pulled Kay off the floor and spun her round, only to be hit by a flurry of blows. Stomach, head, tits. She tried too fend them off, but they came too fast and from too many directions. In the end, it became embarrassing to watch, which was when Granny stepped in, carrying her bat.

‘That’s enough, Kay, step back. She’s lost; do what you must.’

I couldn’t see Mistress’s face as Kay strapped on the huge dildo, but I could see she was shaking and there was urine dribbling down her legs. Some people were watching open mouthed at the sight of this strong, proud woman being reduced to a slave herself. Others turned away in embarrassment at the sight. Kay took a bottle of lube from her bag and drizzled a small amount onto the tip of the dildo, which she spread into a thin film.

I could feel my juices running down wetting my seat as I watched her push Mistress over the back of a chair and take aim. She dragged the dildo along her crack and teased it around her hole. Then she pushed, one long, powerful thrust, forcing her ass wide open and penetrating as deep as she could go. Mistress – I still thought of her like that and not as Vanessa, although I was sure she could never be my Mistress again after what was happening – arched her back but didn’t scream.

Kay withdrew slowly and then thrust deep again. Mistress’s whole body was shaking in response, but still she didn’t cry out.

The next thrust was faster and more powerful. Mistress could control her pain any longer. The smack of Kay’s belly banging into her ass rang round the walls to be echoed by Mistress’s scream of pain.

Faster and faster the thrusts came, until Kay was breath was rasping from her exertion.

‘Go on,’ she shouted, ‘you know what you’ve got to do.’

I didn’t know what she meant, but Mistress must have understood because she shook her head and the pounding continued.

The sweat was running off Kay’s tits now. The pair seemed locked in a titanic struggle for supremacy with neither prepared to give way.

For a second time, Kay called out to Mistress, but again she shook her head.

Kay now slowed right down, so slow that I could see the blood staining the shaft of the dildo. Each thrust was almost lovingly delivered, allowing her a chance to recover her breath, or so I thought. But it was not long before I heard Mistress moaning. I knew that sound; I heard it every time we fucked. She was going to cum. This was the start.

And I was right. As the moans continued, so Kay’s movement responded, until Mistress was screaming at the top of her voice and Kay was pumping her in a fury. Mistress was on the verge of cumming. But then Kay stopped, stopped and withdrew the dildo until only the head was up her ass.

‘Go on,’ she shouted at Mistress, ‘go on, you know what you have to do. Just do it.’

That was when I heard words I never thought I would hear.

‘Yes, yes, you’re right, I’m your bitch, take me please, take me.’

Kay beamed in triumph and thrust hard and fast into my Mistress, whose body began to shudder and shake as she bellowed and howled.

At last Kay stopped and stepped back, the shaft of her dildo now streaked with blood. She pulled off the straps and waved it in the air.

‘Right, who wants a go while this bitch eats me out?’