I heard about what happened with you and DJ—your little temper tantrum, and him tossing you out on your skinny little ass. I have a good idea of what you must be going through. Lost your job, lost your man, lost your purpose… nothing left but to live out your days knowing that you’re totally evil all the way down to the bone.
I’m going to get him back. You know he’ll take me—he’s cheated on me a hundred times, and we all forgive him everything that the dumb son of a bitch does. He’s too much of a guilty little pansy over it not to.
I’m writing to give you a chance to get back in. You may be an annoying judgmental cunt but having a pet is useful and for some reason DJ seems to like you. I have a plan that’ll end with both of us back at his side. I’m gonna be here all weekend, and I know you know how to find me, so let’s meet and talk it over. I know you’re out on your ass if you don’t take me up on it, so think twice before you decide to throw a little hissy fit.
You can be proud and die wicked and alone in a gutter, or you can suck it up and get another shot at your grand redemption. Think it over.
— “Mistress” Ashley Vandoren
Emily crumpled up the note as soon as she finished reading it. That fucking cunt. Flashes of Ashley meeting a hundred horrible fates danced through her brain, sending a jolt of pleasure direct to her cunt. God she wanted to see that bitch suffer. She allowed herself a few little strokes on her clit as she rode the wave of pleasure, imagining Ashley sold into slavery in a third world country, spending her days being raped by an endless parade of strangers.
God she needed DJ back.
Yet it may well be that the two urges were incompatible. There was no way he’d take Emily back on her own—no apology she could make could cover over what had happened. She’d stood over him, half-ready to try to strangle him to death then and there—and he’d seen it. And that rant, those horrible, evil, truths she’d finally given voice to…
Ashley made a fair point after all. DJ, for all the harm he did, somehow didn’t mean to do it, and he was certainly not the instigator in the worst of the infractions. Those were all the children of Ashley’s brain, a mindscape that was as far as Emily could tell basically Satan’s playground. It may well be possible for someone to convince him that Ashley had done nothing worse to him than he’d done to her, play to his (very) deep-seated humanity. People forgave and rationalized infidelity every day all over the world, especially chumps who really thought they were in love.
It could work. She’d be as miserable as she was before, but… maybe she could make it work. Ashley was too stupid, too greedy not to fuck things up for herself again; all she had to do was keep her cool next time. She’d been so fucking close before! His words, that half-conscious “I love you” still haunted her. The peace, the relief…
All she had to do was out-wait Ashley. Endure the humiliation, self-loathing, destruction of her future… but she would be free again. She might be able to live in her own skin without wanting to crawl out of it all the time.
Then she thought of Ashley, the hell she would surely put Emily through if she joined her little scheme. Having to bury all that hatred for months and months and be a good little slave, obeying and serving and gratifying at master and mistress’ pleasure.
It disturbed her still how naturally those instincts came to her. How wet she got at the thought of obeying, of servicing any cock and pussy put in front of her. Not the cocks and pussies themselves, but of knowing she had been told to pleasure them and providing it. Living on autopilot, not making decisions, just being a sensual part of their consequences.
She fished Ashley’s note out of the trash, uncrumpled it and re-read it. Again. Finished, crumpled, tossed again. Like she’d been doing all day since that conniving sociopath slid it under her door like the chicken-shit she was in the middle of the night. For all the power Ashley had enjoyed over her, in the end, she was still afraid. As well she ought to be.
Emily knew she had to decide soon. It was the morning of Thanksgiving day, and DJ had gone home for break only hours ago. She knew because she’d been watching for him to leave out the window. By the time he was back, she had to be gone. She wanted more than anything to go home to her own family, but with all the pictures and videos that had wound up online of her these past months, her family would definitely never talk to her again. Her boyfriend—now ex-boyfriend—had even heard about it overseas, it had gotten so out of hand.
The way she’d behaved, like the most brazen slut who ever lived, she’d even lost all her friends—who wanted to be friends with a girl who publicly sucked and fucked on command, who dressed like a sexual plaything for no reason beyond providing that person with an alluring view. She hated other people knowing, seeing her behave this way—and absolutely despised anyone trying to engage her on the subject—but she couldn’t blame them for judging. She would certainly have kept someone like this out of her old life, never given them the time of day.
When she was out of her dorm room, she was well and truly alone in the world, which meant living on the street. Or she could…
No. She didn’t have to decide that yet.
At least accepting Ashley’s offer might keep a roof over her head in the short-term until she could make another plan. If Emily could stop herself from attacking her.
Or from falling to her knees and groveling on command.
Maybe read the note one more time, and it’ll sort itself out.
She was reaching for the trash can when there was a knock at the door. It had to be Ashley—none of her residents on her floor would even make eye contact with her these days after how she’d conducted herself, and all but a few were home for break anyway.
Emily hopped out of bed, taking a moment to compose herself as a subconscious habit when presenting herself to her master or mistress. It was time to make a decision.
She would do it. Anything was worth it—the emptiness, the worthlessness inside her was all-consuming, and she would do anything to stop it. She couldn’t live like this—she wouldn’t. In anticipation, she kneeled in front of the door, head bowed humbly, hands cupping her naked breasts. (It was something she’d done for DJ, but by now it was just an instinct, a way of posing to show her total submission.)
“Come in,” she said. She waited until the door opened, her eyes fixed on a point on the ground in front of her. Emily was too afraid that if she saw Ashley’s face she’d try to claw her eyes out of her head.
“I’ll do it,” she said. “Whatever you want, whatever your plan is, I’ll do it. I’ll obey you. I’ll serve you. Tell me what to do to get back into his good graces and I’m yours. Your stupid little slut eagerly awaits your command.”
“Um… how did you know what I came to talk to you about?” Brittney asked.
Well that was unexpected. Brittney looked down where the naked girl knelt on the floor of her dorm room, more than a little shocked by what she walked in on. Emily looked up just as surprised, though she made no effort to cover herself—evidently she’d conquered whatever shyness she once had.
“Oh, I thought… fuck. God damnit. What the hell do you want?”
“You mean you don’t… wait, who did you think I was?”
“Someone else, obviously.” Emily rose to her feet; despite being half a head shorter than Brittney, she was once more impressed with how it felt very much the opposite. “You got five seconds to tell me what you want before I slam the door on your pretty blonde head.”
“Whoa, holy shit, just—easy there,” Brittney said, holding up her hands disarmingly. “All I want to do is talk to you. About DJ.”