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Foreword: Both characters depicted here are 18 years or older. I didn’t feel it was important to give them specific ages and my Mistress often refers to me as a girl. As this story was originally written by her directive, I tried to carry over a distinction between Domme and sub through use of language which comparatively glorifies or diminishes characters who might otherwise seem to be equals from the beginning. Call it stylistic preference, foreshadowing, or something else. It is, however, not an attempt to bring minors into my fiction.
The night was cold. She had been watching the building for half an hour. The building’s occupant pulled away from behind the store a few minutes before and the structure had been still and lifeless in her absence. The lights were off and all was silent. Summoning her courage, she slipped out of the shadows and off of her clandestine spy post on top of a trash dumpster. She felt the sand, pebbles, and concrete of the driveway against her feet as she quietly crept across the gap to the store. Taking cover behind a bush, her fingers slipped into the flower pot where she knew spare keys were kept. Vaulting over the railing, she crouched next to the door and closed her eyes as she turned the key. She muttered a curse as the lock loudly snapped open.
Moving inside, she gently let the door shut behind her. She picked up a basket and began stalking through the aisles, putting items she needed in it as she went: canned food, ramen, chips, soda, and bottled water. With her basket full, she prowled through the shadows to the counter. She set it down and hurriedly began dumping the food into plastic bags. Hopping over the counter, she picked up another bag and started scooping cartons of cigarettes into it. She didn’t smoke, but who knows what she could trade them for? She threaded her hands through the plastic handles and started to hop over the counter before she caught a glimpse of a blue backpack illuminated in a ray of moonlight. She stooped down and grabbed it, her fingers fumbling for the zipper. Opening it, she took the plastic bags one by one and poured them in. She put on the backpack and started on her way out before she felt nature’s calling.
Sighing, she turned back into the store and walked into the heart of it. Frustrated she could not find facilities on the first floor, she reluctantly turned her attention to the stairs and to the apartment above the store. Her quiet footsteps faded to nothing as wooden steps changed to beige carpet. Poking her head in one room, then another, she finally found a bedroom. Filled with bed, bookshelf, lamp, windows, and some kind of padded chest, she could see a set of slatted doors — probably a closet — and another room with the door slightly ajar. She moved curiously towards the bed, her fingers barely passing over the surface of the crimson comforter draped over blanket and sheet. Her gaze drifted to the mirrors set up at the head of the bed, providing reflections of the room around her and different perspectives of the bed itself. Tearing her eyes away from her own reflection, she padded over to the next room and sighed with relief as she spied a toilet. Scampering over to it quickly, she lifted her dress and gratefully sat.
As she stood she lowered her dress, still savoring the soft touch of double-ply toilet paper, she glanced around the rest of the bathroom. The shower made her think of the grime on her skin, the shampoo, her clumpy hair, and the deodorant, oh the deodorant. How she longed not to smell the sweat shining where dirt hadn’t settled. She staggered over in a daze, her fingers shaking slightly as she pulled the cap off.
“Spring Breeze. Smells nice, doesn’t it?”
She smiles and nods. “Yes, it does. It reminds me of-“
She turned around, the plastic in her hand across clattering to the tile counter. In the doorway stood the store owner, leaning against the door frame with a slight smile across her face. Dressed in a long sleeved white shirt, black pants, and a black trench coat folded over her arm, she looked every inch the figure of authority and was both awesome and bewitching.
“It reminds you of what?” she prompted, her confident smile ever present.
“L-laundry detergent, ma’am. It reminds me of laundry detergent.”
She held out her hand, palm down, moonlight shining against white gloves. “Give it to me.”
Without turning her eyes away from the strong woman she groped behind her for a moment, looking for where the deodorant had scattered to. Her fingers finally bumping against it, she offered it with open hand to the other woman. Opening it, the woman inhaled intently.
“I’d never thought of it before, but it does now that you mention it.”
While she was otherwise distracted, the girl quickly ducked and sprang towards the door. She felt a slight pressure on her hair before she came to a screeching halt, her head screaming in pain as she jerked backward. Her feet fell from underneath her and she swung backwards, knees skidding to rest in front of the woman.
“I didn’t tell you that you could leave. In fact I-“
“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be in here. I just really needed-“
Her world shook as a white glove flashed out poker oyna of the darkness and struck her cheek soundly.
“Do you have any manners? You are in my house, holding my property, and you interrupt me? Is this the way you were taught to behave?”
“No ma’am,” the girl responded, her gaze torn between the ground and her captor.
“Then why have you acted in such a manner?” came the cool reply.
“I really need to go and since you pointed out I don’t belong here then I wanted not to be.”
“That’s true, but that is not a valid reason. Give me my bag.”
“Ma’am?” the kneeling girl asked, questioningly.
The woman sighed with disappointment. “Put your arms behind your back, bent at the elbow but straight down.”
The girl obeyed, watching her closely. The woman bent over, her free hand grasping the handle of the bag before jerking it over the girl’s shoulder’s suddenly. The girl felt her hair fall back around her shoulders as the woman began investigating the bag’s contents. The woman produced items one by one and sorted them on the counter.
Once she finished, she looked down and asked, “Is there any of this you don’t need?”
The girl looked up, tilting her head slightly as she answered, “The water, probably. I got the soda and Gatorade to drink. I was hoping to take a bath with the bottled water. I guess I could use the water to drink and the other would be the luxury, but they have more calories so they’re better for you.”
The woman gave the girl a studying look for a few moments then handed her an energy drink. The girl took it gingerly and let it rest in her lap. A minute passed before the woman motioned for her to drink it. She popped the tab open and took a sip, trying not to lose the gaze of the proprietor. After three more sips and further encouragement she began to drink more wholeheartedly from the can, her thirst getting the better of her. The woman sensed her lowering defenses and smiled. The girl did not think much of it when she heard the sound of popping plastic but she jumped with a yelp when still cold water was poured over her head from above.
“What was that for?” she asked indignantly, her hands crossing over herself to begin preserving her warmth. The woman shrugged and set aside the now empty bottle before reaching for another. Again she doused the girl with water, using bottle after bottle until she had run out. When the girl tried to move away, the woman stepped forward and pinned her against the lip of the bathtub, her black clad knee pressed against the girl’s sternum.
“What is wrong?” the woman asked, “Isn’t this what you wanted?”
“No, I was going to clean myself with it. Not drench myself.”
The woman quickly refilled a bottle, closed it, and tossed it at the girl. “Show me.”
The girl nodded shyly and poured a little water into her hand before rubbing at a dirty spot on her forearm. She looked up only to find the woman staring impassively down at her. Hesitantly, the girl put more water in her hand and started washing her face, her legs, her feet, anything she could get to without taking off her clothes. Again she looked up at the woman and received the same, even gaze. “Are you finished?”
“I… I can be, if you prefer?”
“Do you only wash what people can see?” she asked, almost playfully though there was an edge to it the girl couldn’t detect.
“Well, no. Could you leave or turn around. Something?”
“Still no manners. Asking me to move from part of my house when you are the one who shouldn’t be here? Tsk,” she chided.
“I’m sorry. Could you just let me leave? I promise I will pay for these later,” she pleaded.
“Not yet. Are you going to finish cleaning yourself or do you want to start cleaning up this mess?”
“I want to finish, I just need some privacy. Can you just step outside for a little bit?”
“No,” the woman answered, slipping her hand inside of a pocket in her pants. “Either do it yourself or I will help you do it.”
“But I…,” the girl replied nervously, shrinking back against the siding of the bathtub. The woman took a step forward and reverently hung her trench over the towel railing before withdrawing something shiny which she opened with a snap. Three steps later the woman was crouching before the girl with one hand in her hair. She pulled her head to the side and slipped something cold under the neck of her dress. The girl tensed suddenly, the metal moving across her skin as she heard the sound of thread ripping before the shoulder fabric loosened and fell free. Frozen with fear, she stayed still as her arm was lifted, the knife inserted into the sleeve of her dress and drawn down along her side to her waist. With just as much care, the knife then slid up the outside of her thigh and resumed cutting. The girl’s absent face instantly came back to life when the waistband of her underwear went slack, her head turning to the woman’s once again with renewed protest. Silencing it with a single finger pressed against the girl’s mouth, she finished slicing through the hem of the dress and put away the blade. Gently, she peeled the dress away from the girl and slipped her underwear over her legs and discarded the severed garments in canlı poker oyna the waste bin. She smiled and ruffled the girl’s hair, then stood and turned on the water. They waited in silence for many seconds. The woman only moving to adjust the water temperature or to check it. The girl didn’t even make an attempt to cover herself, simply looking down at the white tile between her feet.
“Get in,” she said quietly. She lowered her hand, took the girl by the arm, and helped her into the shower. The girl didn’t protest when she felt shampoo lathered into her tangled hair, when a moveable shower head was brought over to rinse it out, or when the woman took a bar of soap to her body and began to scrub it clean without any audible concern regardless of where the strange woman’s hands went. She barely gasped as it passed between her legs, earning her a knowing look from the woman. When she finished cleaning the girl, the woman took her by the arm and stood her up. She handed the girl a bottle of conditioner with the simple directive to use it while she went and fetched something. The girl nodded once and took the bottle, pouring some on her head and more on her hand. The woman left her standing in the bathtub, working the conditioner into her tangled brown mane. The woman returned several minutes later, flipping a switch as she entered. She had changed into some kind of unitard which shone black and red in the new overhead light. The girl leaned over and braced herself against the wall, blinking her eyes deliberately to help them adjust to the sudden change of illumination. The woman now held a can of shaving cream and some razors. Sitting on the toilet cover, the woman drew one of the girl’s legs up onto the rim of the tub and began lathering cream. The girl, not wanting to break the silence which the strange woman had seemingly maintained with care, said nothing. Working deftly, the woman cleared first one leg and then the other. The girl started to step into the water stream to rinse out the conditioner when the woman gripped her solidly and pulled her down so she was sitting the tub’s lip, facing into the shower. The woman carefully but firmly pulled apart the girl’s legs and began trimming the pubic hair with her knife. The girl’s eyes were locked with fear on the glint of metal, working very closely and very quickly near her nethers. Satisfied in her work, the woman re-sheathed her knife and lathered between the girl’s legs before that too was depilated. Tracing her fingers over her handwork, the woman probed for strips she had missed and eliminated them before standing the girl up and patting her gently on her rump.
“Rinse your hair. You may dry yourself off with a towel from the rack. If I’m not back by the time you are finished, kneel on the dry floor mat and wait for me. You may wrap yourself in a towel if you are cold,” the woman said before turning around and walking out of the room.
“Yes ma’am,” the girl responded as she stepped obediently into the stream of water. She massaged her head and ran her fingers through her hair, straining the coaxing to follow the flow passing around it. When she finished she shut of the water and stepped forward with an open mouth to capture the run off from the depressurizing head. Laughing quietly to herself over ‘Waste not, want not,’ she bent down and removed a matte of hair from the drain cover. She shook each of her feet as she exited the tub and deposited her hair in the waste bin before she retrieved a towel and started to dry herself off. Turning the towel around she wrapped up her hair and wrung out some of the moisture which clung to her before she returned it to the rack. As she knelt she wriggled an ear and stretched out her senses in an attempt to catch a trace of her… host, benefactor, captor? She wasn’t quite certain of anything beyond the fact she was intrigued by the woman. The girl waited there for some time, wishing to get up but not daring to press her luck any further. Finally the woman came back. In her hands she held a beige dress.
“Put it on, unless you want to just stay there naked like a…,” she said, trailing off. “Never mind. You may have it, either way.”
The girl reached up and took the dress. Turning it around a few times, she found the back and some cleverly hidden buttons under a side panel on the front. Quickly she undid them and slipped into the clean garment, relishing how soft and fresh it felt particularly against her cleanly shaven skin.
“Now, to business. You may take those with you when you leave. I won’t press charges and I obviously wasn’t using them. I can write it off as a business expense and deduct it from my taxes, so you don’t need to worry about that. What I do want from you is for you to join me for dinner. Rather, I want you to make me dinner. You will stay the night, and I will let you leave in the morning. Does this sound unfair to you?” she said with an indecernable look upon her face.
The girl nodded meekly in response and started to move around the woman before she was stopped.
“Say it,” she interjected sternly. In a lighter tone, she continued, “Use your words. I know you have them.”
“Yes ma’am,” she replied, eyes slightly averted.
The woman led her internet casino guest to a kitchen. Though it bore no clear signs of repeated use, it was kept quite well. The girl began rifling through the refrigerator and pantries, taking stock of what was available and desperately wracking her brain for what she knew how to make. Deciding that well executed would probably be better received than daring and bland, she grabbed for a few cans of chili, sour cream, and cheese. She rinsed the cans and opened them, pouring them into a saucepan to cook. Emptying that into a bowl, she quickly spread the cream over the chili and sprinkled a layer of cheese over the top. Unable in her search to find ordinary chips, she grabbed a bag of bagel chips. She fetched two glasses and filled them with water before loading everything on a serving tray and taking it into the next room. The woman was seated at the table, a single candle lit to one side. The girl eased the tray to her hip and offloaded everything, leaning the tray on its edge against the wall when she was done.
The woman smiled politely, “I apologize, I usually eat alone. Do you mind sitting or kneeling on the floor while we eat?”
The girl shook her head. Sighing, the woman gently cleared her throat and the girl quickly blurted out, “No ma’am, I don’t.”
“Good. Then let’s eat,” she said, a smile once again returning to her face.
Time passed and the two of them ate in relative silence. When they had finished, the girl cleared away the table and transplanted the remaining mixture into plastic containers so she could start washing the dishes. When she finished, she followed the woman back into the bedroom.
“Take your dress off, you don’t need to sleep in that tonight,” the woman said without looking at the girl.
“Do you have something I could wear instead,” the girl responded, her gaze leaping to the television as it sparked to life.
“I’m sure I can find you something,” the woman answered with a laugh, picking something up from her bedside table.
The girl compliantly disrobed, her eyes never leaving the television. Suddenly, she felt something cold and heavy around her throat and a metal snap shortly there after. Her hands skirted about her neck in an attempt to figure out what the woman had just put on her. She felt a metal band with a ring connected to it with chain leading away towards one of the posts.
“No need to worry, dear. The collar is more to make sure you don’t leave tonight while I’m asleep. I’ll unlock both it and you in the morning. Now relax and watch some television, the remote is to your right. Turn it off before you go to sleep. Good night.”
The girl thought to protest but the woman had already shut her eyes and tucked herself in. Sitting at the foot of the bed, she held the remote for a few seconds before deciding that she didn’t need the luxury of television if she needed to make certain she shut it off. Clicking the power button, she set the remote up on the bed and lay down on the carpet. Sleep quickly took her.
When the girl opened her eyes, she was bathed in light. She sat up and looked around for the woman, panicking when she was no where in sight. She spun around feverishly before realizing she was no longer bound and leashed to the bed. Standing, she noticed her dress hung neatly in the doorway with a new pair of underwear and her bag leaning against the door crowned by a piece of paper. Walking over, she quickly dressed and picked up the note before slinging the bag in place. Examining the page, she read.
“Good morning, girl. I hope you will find everything is in order, except the cigarettes. You don’t smell like smoke and even if you do, you should stop. Now to set expectations. You may leave now. If I find you like that again, I will be charitable but I will not be merciful. On the back, I have written a list of shelters you can go to and temp agencies you can find work at. I think you are a sweet girl and I would not mind seeing you again some day but I do not want to find a thief as well. Good day.”
The girl smiled and kissed the words, folding it up and placing it in the ID slot of her bag before skipping out the door. One week later, she returned to the woman’s store. She quickly loaded her back with durable foodstuffs and razors. As she hopped over the counter after fetching a fresh load of cigarette cartons, the bell above the door chimed and the woman stood in the doorway. Angrily, she locked eyes on the girl and strode over to her. Taken aback by the ferocity being displayed towards her, the girl shrank backwards and began to apologize but it fell on deaf ears. Fingers laced through her hair and closed to a vice grip. The woman stormed upstairs to her bedroom, her captive in tow. Without a word, her fingers found the hidden buttons on the girl’s dress and stripped her bare. The woman bent down and quickly produced a line of rope which she tied around the girl’s wrist, looped around a banister on her bed, and secured to her other wrist. Finally pausing, the woman glared at her for what seemed like a painful eternity before leaving the room and closing the door behind her. The girl wasn’t certain how long she remained there, restrained and vulnerable. She trembled gently, fearful of uncertainty as much as the woman’s wrath, silently considering the mistake of returning. Finally, the woman returned. Her stride was less hasty, her eyes less inflamed, but her hand brandished something long and black.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32