He saw her doing this, and bought her, on the spot.
She wasn’t really on the scene, they were just swingers having an adventurous night, but he offered her and her man so much money that she said yes, for a month.
At first, she didn’t get it — just thought he was a rich guy who wanted good blowjobs and a bit of dressing up.
When she finally realised that he was serious, she became hysterical, and had to be restrained.
She was wild for three days after that, screaming, raging. He kept her in soft cuffs, made sure she couldn’t damage herself or anyone else. Naked, possessed, she was a magnificent creature — utterly without inhibition. It was difficult to hold back from forcing himself upon her.
On the third day, in one of her calm periods, she asked if he could remove the restraints.
“Happily — but what if you go crazy again? You’ll hurt yourself, or smash something.”
He watched her swallow down a salty response, make herself look at the floor, breathe a couple of times. When she looked up it was obvious that she was holding herself to make the most of her pretty tits — blushing a little — it was the first time since he’d bought her that she had bargained with her body.
Her voice was softer;
“I .. I just can’t .. can’t do this. I .. I need to .. to have some . some little freedom? I .. I know I need to .. to please you. If ..if I promise to .. to tell you before I go .. crazy, so .. so that you can .. “ she raised her cuffed wrists, linked to the broad leather waspie that was locked in place; “ .. so you can put these back on. Would ..would that be ok?”
Freed, she cried a little, softly, then a lot more. He watched her.
Eventually, she stopped, and there was silence. He read his book.
She cleared her throat.
And then again. He looked up;
“Did you want to speak, pretty?”
She hated him calling her that, which was why he persisted.
He watched her shake her head — clearly suppressing the urge to say something rude, and then she made herself smile, smile for him, knowing she must please him if she wants anything at all;
“Um .. can .. can I ask a question?”
“You may, pretty.”
This time a little blush and a real smile, a tiny girly flounce. It took effort for her to say what she needed to say, and he was patient, until;
“Um how .. how .. how much longer — more .. more of this will it take until .. until ..” — controlling herself was clearly very hard work, but she maintained her position, kept her voice even — “ .. until I’m .. I’m a proper .. um .. slave .. you know, properly um .. b-broken — s-slave g-girl.”
He left the silence to grow, looking at her, soft, but relentless, while she blinked back sad tears, her eyes unfocused, having accepted that she has lost something, lost it for good, until;
“Oh, I think you’re there already, pretty. So lovely; naked, quiet, asking to speak, holding yourself so nicely for me — showing me those titties so sweetly. Yes, definitely a slave girl — but with plenty of room for improvement.”
Another deliberate pause, then;
“For instance, I would expect those thighs to be really obviously open — offering me your little slit whenever you can is definitely a requirement.”
She almost laughed, almost sobbed again, controlled herself again, and then, slowly, trembling a little, raised her buttocks and, a trifle inelegantly, opened her legs, blushing.
Another little giggle / sob, and then she spoke again;
“Will .. will you really .. w .. whip .. me?”
No hesitation, voice normal;
“Yes, at least once a day for some time to come — plus punishment, plus times when I simply fancy hurting you.”
Enormous impact; her face twists but she makes an obvious effort to retain her position and her promise.
After that, her collapse is swift and helpless.
Three weeks later, she calls her husband, and tells him in a tiny voice that she won’t be coming back, that she has given herself over, that she’s no use as a wife anymore, that she’s nothing but desperate cunt. She sends him a picture to help him understand:
The man is angry, but after coming to the house and seeing her transformation for himself, fucking her and whipping her too, he rather easily takes another large chunk of cash and signs an NDA after a quickie divorce.
The whipping affects her dreadfully, really destroys her. It inflames him and he sometimes surprises himself with his cruelty.
Somehow, though, she is utterly accepting of his right to hurt her, never resists or shows anger, always sweet when he rams his hardness into her after throwing the whip aside, kissing him softly through subsiding sobs as he fucks her savagely, the tears still wet on her face, offering, opening herself to him without reserve.
She does get tearful every couple of weeks, when something reminds her of what it was like to have a life, or some particularly repulsive older guest uses her in a way which degrades her more than usually.
But mostly she fucks like an angel, with soft eagerness to please, and the slutty schoolgirl costume still reliably gets her hot.
When she has a special favour to ask, she gets dressed up in it, and does everything she can to get him to rape her.
