While DJ had spent his long weekend frittering away the hours in hedonistic bliss in the city, Emily had been using her time very carefully. First, she’d gotten as far ahead in her academic work as possible, so that any prolonged orders from DJ wouldn’t leave her as behind. Just in case. Then, she’d devoted every other waking minute to making herself a better slave for him.
She’d ordered strippercise aerobics tapes, to keep her fit and teach her moves to arouse him—or, if he so wished, earn him some money. She’d watched hours of pornography, even listened to it on her headphones through the night in her sleep, so she could study the sexiest ways to service a man, the hottest sounds to make. She’d studied all she could about DJ to better get to know him and anticipate his preferences and desires. The internet had been kind.
Emily was a good girl. Maybe not on the surface, but inside. She had to be. (Didn’t she?)
“Come in,” DJ responded to her knocking.
Emily entered, curtsying deeply, showing off her legs, not yet revealing the skimpy little thong she wore for him. (He’d liked a friend’s post about how hot thongs were in September four years ago; she hoped it had been sincere.) “Good morning, sir. Thank you for allowing me to serve you again. Your slut has been very lonely without you.”
Suddenly, the door closed behind her all on its own. Turning, she saw… Ashley Vandoren. Grinning like the cat who ate the canary.
“I’ll bet she has,” DJ said casually. It pissed her off how easily he accepted her servility as a matter of course—but then, that anger was why she was doing this. “You girls have now met officially, I hear.”
“We sure have,” said Ashley. She was wearing a scarf; Emily wondered if it was hiding bruises. Bruises shaped like her fingers.
“Yes, sir,” echoed Emily.
“Well good. Ashley tells me you two got along famously. I’m glad to hear it.” He smiled.
Emily tried not to frown in confusion. Gotten along famously? Emily had nearly choked the bitch to death. Not that she would have killed her, she didn’t think. She just got… well, she lost control a little when it came to people questioning her about DJ. It wasn’t anyone else’s business.
Still, if Ashley had lied for her and the lie made DJ happy, who was she to dispel his illusions? “Yes, sir. Congratulations on finding a girlfriend. She’s very attractive—she’ll serve you well.” There, see how Ashley likes being talked about like his property.
“Well, funnily, that’s part of why I called you down here. So, you serve me, right?”
Duh. “Of course, sir.”
“And you’ll do anything I tell you to do.”
“Absolutely, sir.” How many times had she insisted this? A hundred?
“Good girl.” He smiled, walking over to her and caressing her cheek affectionately. She shivered; she hadn’t realized how much those words, from him, now meant to her. It was like a jolt right into the pleasure center of her brain. Her cheeks flushed, her pussy moistened in response to her master’s praise. An unbidden smile crept onto her face even as the shame of her response caught up with her.
“Thank you, sir. Your servant’s highest pleasure is earning your praise.” Was this true now? It felt true, sickeningly enough.
“Well good, because I finally have a command for you—something bigger than just cleaning the room or putting on a sexy costume.”
“Excellent. Your slut lives to please you.” She wondered what it would be. Doing his homework? Moving in next door to be on more readily available? Doing porn? Turning tricks? She was ready for anything.
“Good. So here it is, Emily—from now on, I want you to obey Ashley here as you do me.”
Anything but that. To be given away, like a tawdry present to his new slam piece.
She glanced past him at the expression on Ashley’s face; it was pure self-satisfaction. Condescension. Malice. DJ didn’t notice any of it.
“Sir, please, your little fuck toy wishes to serve you, make you happy. How can she do that if she is busy serving another?” She put all the pleading she dared into her voice. She couldn’t tell him she didn’t want to; maybe—oh God, please—he could pick up on the desperation in her voice and let her off easy. Just this once.
No such luck. “Serving Ashley will make me happy. She’s my girlfriend now, so instead of thinking of yourself as just being my slut, think of yourself as our slut.”
“You… I… please…” That was as far as she could go, as close as her wicked, selfish, evil, hateful side would let her get to defying him.
DJ gave her a stern expression, like a babysitter scolding a wayward toddler. “Emily, this is how it has to be if you want to keep serving me. I can’t have my own little sex slave on the side while still having a girlfriend and expect things to work out. Either you serve both of us, or neither. You don’t have to stick around—I mean, nobody’s making you do this if you don’t want to.”
He suggested she not serve him, then said she had a choice? It was laughable, almost. If the only way to be a good girl was to serve this beast, conquer her wicked nature, and the only way to serve him was to serve her…
“Very well, sir. Your slut will obey your other slut.”
Ashley’s look darkened. “That’s the last time you call me that, Emily. You’re his slut; I’m his girlfriend. You’re his property; I’m his partner. Get it?”
Emily nodded. She did get it. “Yes… Ashley.”
“Nuh uh, no ‘Ashley’ for you. People might think we’re equals. Privately, you can call me ‘madame’ or ‘mistress.’ Publicly, you can call me Ms. Vandoren.”
“I understand. And… am I to be madame’s slut as well?”
Ashley grinned. “No. I’m not into girls, you little freak. Nah, for me… you’re my toy.”
“Yes mistress. Your toy understands.”
“Now let’s see if you’re a good toy or not, shall we?” Ashley grinned. DJ just sat down and watched bemusedly. “You’re awfully… strong-looking,” she said, itching meaningfully beneath her scarf. “Do a hand-stand. Use the wall if you have to, but only if you have to.”
Emily nodded. “Yes mistress.” She’d been in gymnastics in middle and high school; she was rusty, but it wasn’t that difficult. She managed the maneuver quickly; there was now no more mystery regarding her thong. The dress hung down low enough she couldn’t see, and she was nearly bared to the bra. Ashley paced around her, prodded her a few times to test her balance. She nearly fell, but her determination not to give the bitch the satisfaction kept her in position.
“Wearing underwear, are we? Well that won’t do. Little sluts like you shouldn’t ever have barriers to fucking them.”
“Your toy apologizes, mistress.” She hadn’t been told to move, so she didn’t, straining to hold herself in place.
She could only hear Ashley’s steps, a little shlick as the girl retrieved a pair of scissors and snipped her thong off at the waistband, then tugged it off. Emily’s bare pussy pointed up at the ceiling. She thought she heard the sound of them landing in the trash can.
“Ooooh, you’re nice and wet, aren’t you?” Ashley said, running her fingers across Emily’s moistened slit. “How’s come, Toy? What made you so wet?”
Emily grimaced, glad the veil of her dress hid it. She’d been ordered to obey Ashley as she did DJ, and that meant holding nothing back. At least while he was around. “Sir said that his slut was a good girl. His slut enjoyed his praise.”