New Piece of Sandy Foot Girl Epilogue

[imreadonly2]

Joe was feeling inspired, so he added a passage to the Sandy Foot Girl Epilogue, revealing her fate after her auction. He hope you enjoys. No more on Taco Tuesday or the other segments for now!

“I want to check your SRN,” he said, his smile fading as he stepped away.

“Why?” I said, still smiling.

“Because I said so… runaway.” The last accusing word, runaway, was soft, barely a whisper.

I adopted my best breathy Marilyn Monroe / Betty Boop voice as I went into to flirty airhead mode. “Well, the truth is, I do like to tell stories. So, let me tell you another one. I am actually a wealthy, big shot management consultant, and I consult with slave businesses like The Big D. I make a FORTUNE turning the screws on all the poort little slave girls, and on working stiffs like you.”

As I spoke I giggled, giving him my best girlish laughter and ran my finger down his muscular chest, right down to the bulge of his crotch. He did not smile. I was his quarry now, and his expression was dead serious, and chilled me to the bone. It was an intoxicating mix of terror and excitement, as being in the muscular, frowning deputies gun-sight was also thrilling, and I squeezed my thighs together as I relished the incredible sensation of pure slave heat between my legs.

“Truth is, ditzy as I am, I’m the one who devised all of the great marketing ideas about making The Big D more like a livestock market, only for slave girls. Wasn’t that clever of me?” I giggled again, seemingly amazed that I had actually thought of something smart. “Of course, I guess I wasn’t as clever as I thought, cuz’ I got myself up-and-enslaved. Would you believe an auctioneer I trained sold my naked ass right off the auction block on Broadway, the market I designed. And if that wasn’t humiliating enough, Judge Rufus T. Parker, who was the Judge who enslaved me, burned his personal brand right onto my ass cheek. I guess he didn’t like me very much. Would you like to see it?”

Without waiting for an answer I motioned him over behind a wall leading to backstage area. Turning, I lifted my skirt, bent over and touched my toes.

I was wearing a pink thong, which allowed for some modesty, but touching my toes caused my butt cheeks to part, revealing the “makers mark” Judge Parker had permanently burned into my skin, to record forever more his role in my humiliating enslavement.

“Do you like my brand?” I asked. “Judge Parker burned it on personally."

I felt a chill run down me as he ran his finger over the brand. “Judge Parker marked you well,” the Deputy replied. “He is an excellent slaving judge. You should be proud to wear his brand.

As far as I was concerned Rufus T. Parker was a fucking asshole, but bent over as I was, with his hand on my bare ass, I thought it impolitic to share my candid assessment.

Reaching down he cupped the wet crotch of my thong. “You are wet,” he said. “Slave wet.”

“Oh, MASTER!” I said reflexively, groaning with pleasure as he squeezed my hot pussy. Recovery quickly I stood up, and tried to move past him. He didn’t step out of my way, which forced me to press my breasts against him to squeeze past. “Oh, you NAUGHTY boy!” I scolded, wagging my finger in his face. “Touching me in my naughty place, just like I was some dirty little slave girl.”

Laughing, I led him behind back into the public area to continue my tease.

“I’m glad you liked my brand so much, because it hurt so much I passed out!”, I said, rubbing the seat of my skirt and pouting at the memory of the kiss of the iron.

“No pain, no gain. It’s good for a slave girl to feel pain, so she knows her place,” he replied.

“Well, gosh, SOMEBODY was trying to teach me my place!” I said, in breathy airhead mode as I shifted back to my story. Whoever bought me shipped me off to this shitty brothel in Central America where I was in a red-light district. Can you guess what they made me do there, being a professional slaver, and a super smart policeman, and all?”

“Hunting dogs are used for hunting. You were a Pleasure Slut. Naturally, they put you to work as a whore,” he said.

I feigned surprise as I held my hand to my mouth. “Oh, my! How did you guess that the made me a Pleasure Slut? You’re so SMART!” I tittered. “You’re right, of course. I thought I was a big shot executive, with a fancy Ivy League education. But NAKED, and collared, on my knees, with my legs spread and my hands behind my head, I looked like just another Pleasure Slut!” rolling my eyes and waving my hands in the air as I laughed. What a goofy mix up, tee-hee-hee!”

“I don’t think so,” he said, not joining in with my silly bimbo laughter.

I continued in my breathless, Marilyn voice. “Well, don’t ya’ know, they didn’t think it was a mistake either, and they put my skanky ass TO WORK. I locked up in red light district, that had a huge cement wall, with razor wire, and guard towers, and everything! It was next to this gigantic mine, where thousands and thousands of workers dug ore out of the ground day-and-night. The mine was HUGE, and there was an army of miners! They didn’t pay the filthy little buggers much, but they did give them tickets, that they could use in the brothels. And do you know where they put me to work.”

“The brothels,” he replied. “Go on,” he said, obviously anxious for me to continue.

“They put me in this nasty old room with about 20 other slave whores, with these thin, filthy mattresses all over the floor. The workers had tickets, and they’d use a scanner gun to scan the miner’s tickets. And do you know what those dirty, nasty miners did to me?”

“They fucked you.”

“WOW! You are like a brain-iac! A big shiny badge and a big brain! What else do you have that’s big?” I teased. “Anyway they also gave them these little pagers, and they’d go off in 10 minutes. So they only had 10 minutes to fuck me. They were pretty horny, so most of them didn’t take long, long. But I was REALLY popular, because of my white skin, and nice tits, so I was usually taking at least two, or sometimes three or even four dicks at a time, if I used my hands. And as soon as one guy would get off me, another would get on. All day long! Boy, my mattress really got a work out!” I laughed.

“Good. Pleasure Sluts should be put to use. It sounds like they were getting their money’s worth from you.”

“And how! So I had black people, and the local Indians, and dirty, swarthy Hispanic miners, fucking all my holes, 18 hours a day. But I have to tell you, they had no respect for my education, or white skin, and used my like I was dirty puta, which I sort of was, I guess!”

“I was covered in miner spunk the whole time, and even if I wanted to go out naked in the street and hose myself down, I was usually too exhausted. “Plus when you used the outdoor shower, they sprayed you with delouser and all the guys catcalled you when you tried to rub the spunk off, so why bother? So mostly I just stank like a dirty condom, but what’s a girl to do?” I said, rolling my eyes like the bimbo ditz I was pretending to be. “I thought I’d never get out of there!”

“How did you escape?” he asked.

“Escape? Ha! That’s a laugh. There was a big high wall around the entire compound, like a prison, and even if I got up on the roof of my hotel-whore-tell, the wall was like 20 yards away, and 30 foot higher than the roof of my miserable little shack. Plus on top of the wall there was razor wire, and guard towers, and soldiers with machine guns. Beyond the wall there was this no-whore zone, which was patrolled by these vicious guard dogs, and then an electric fence with more razor wire beyond that. The pimp used to tell us if we didn’t hump hard enough, they’d feed us to the dogs, and we’d be slave chow. And even if I did get beyond the electric fence, I had no money, and I didn’t speak the language, and I was a naked whore covered in miner spunk. Where could I have run?”

“Good point. It sounds like you were properly secured. So why are you here, and not humping for your life in the brothel, like you should be?”

[orflash64]

Was it supposed to end there, was it cut off?

[orflash64]

Also, why is there two chapter sixes in Slave Yoga ,Block Monkey and The Market? Was one supposed to be ch. 7? Or 6A and 6B which is which?

[orflash64]

On Literotica.

[jeepster]

Ahhh! That's a cruel spot to stop that chapter!

[automagix12]

Was the "cliffhanger" ending intended? Or is there more of this fine story to come?

[imreadonly2]

Joe said the last Sandy Foot Girl chapter was mis-numbered. His mistake, and he will fix it when he submits the next chapter, whenever that might be. So there's nothing complex to figure out. Right now Joe isn't writing much, but wants to send the group any short inspirations he has, to keep things going! Here's the end of the Sandy Foot Girl explanation of her escape from the brothel.

“Good point. So how did you get out?”

“Well, that’s the darndest thing!” I giggled. “I have a personal assistant, John Cinders. He’s quite good looking, and he was a management consultant, too, but when his boss got caught cheating on his taxes, he framed John, and John got sent to prison. Boo-hoo! Poor little Johnny! A pretty boy like him in prison… oh they weren’t very nice to him at all. His dance card was busy every night!”

“Anyway, I arranged to have him paroled on work release for me, and I made him my personal assistant. I called him “Cindy”, on account on they made him a bitch in prison, and now he was MY bitch. I worked him very hard, and also made him run personal errands, and fetch me coffee, and give me pedicures, and hand wash my scanties. It was quite a status symbol for me, having a smart, handsome young stud that I could use as my secretary/bitch. And he didn’t dare stand up for himself, because if he did, I’d send him back to that nasty old prison, where he’d have to suck ding dongs, and take it up the ass literally, instead of figuratively.”

“So it turns out after I’d had been there about a week, Mr. Smarty Pants John Cinders figured out what happened, and tracked me down. You can imagine how surprised I was to see him walking into my dirty whore room, wearing his suit and tie, and looking like a million bucks. He walked right by my mattress. I don’t think he recognized me at first, because I was naked, and on all fours, sucking off an Indian, while a black guy fucked me from behind.”

“He kept walking around the room, looking totally disgusted, until eventually one of the pimps pointed out the skinny, skanky whore in the corner taking on all comers, or all cummers. Mr. John Cinders looked SHOCKED, ha-ha! But then he got a little smile on his face, and the pimp even got him a chair, so he could watch as the two dirty, stinking miners had their way with me.”

“So John freed you?” the Deputy asked. “I wouldn’t have.”

“Well, that’s a story, too!” I giggled. “He actually used my firm’s money to purchase me from the brothel, and he had a First-Class ticket to fly me back to New York, along with my passport. Naturally, I told him I couldn’t go.”

“Why not?” the Deputy said, looking genuinely confused.

“Ha-ha! You silly boy! That’s the same look he got on his face. Because, dumb-dumb, Judge Parker had signed an enslavement order, which meant that I was still a Pleasure Slut. You can’t put a Pleasure Slut in a First-Class seat, and fly her back to Manhattan, and hand her the keys to a million-dollar condo overlooking Central Park. I told him I wasn’t leaving until Judge Parker reversed my enslavement order, and that he should leave me in the brothel, because I was still a Pleasure Slut, and until he fixed it, I was precisely where I belonged.

“But I don’t understand. That means you had to…”

“Suck and fuck dirty brown cocks all day?” I said, giggling. “Yes, unfortunately, that’s EXACTLY what I meant. I hated it. I despised it. But I was a Pleasure Slut, and that’s what Pleasure Sluts do. Mr. Cinders didn’t understand, either. So I crawled over to his chair, unzipped his pants, and gave Mr. John Cinders the most amazing hummer he had ever had in his life!”

“You sucked your Personal Assistant’s cock?” the Deputy said, looking genuinely surprised.

“He wasn’t my Personal Assistant, you silly-willy! He was an important American management consultant, in an expensive suit, and he had just bought me, and I was nothing but a filthy, cum splattered, whorehouse Pleasure Slut. I looked up at him with AWE as I sucked his dick, and I loved him the way only a slave girl can love her master. After all of the filthy lowlifes I had been sucking off, it was truly an honor to have a great man like Mr. Cinders put his clean, handsome, white pecker in my mouth.”

“After I finished swishing his cum around in my mouth and swallowing it like vintage wine, I suggested he take a picture of me getting fucked, so that Justice Parker would see how horrible conditions were, and would work on getting my enslavement reversed. So he got out his phone, and took pictures of me getting gang-banged by three guys at once, and texted it to Judge Parker, along with a note pleading for him to reverse my enslavement.”

“Did Judge Parker bother to reply?” the Deputy asked.

“Right away. He sent a two word answer: MORE PICTURES.”

“So like a total ditz I told him that sometimes when there weren’t a lot of customers, they made me go out and troll for business. He talked to my pimp, and before you know it, they dragged me off the mattress, sill splattered in jizz. They put me in a pink tube top, and a short skirt, and little booties, and turned me out in the street, like a common hooker. Mr. Cinders filmed me calling out to men as they passed by, flashing my pussy, and begging them to fuck me. Then he sent the film of me street hooking to that evil Judge Parker. How humiliating!”

“I thought for sure Judge Parker would free me, when he saw how I had to humiliate myself like the lowliest of putas. But he just sent back a one-word text: MORE.

“I got so flustered, so like a total ditz I let it slip that sometimes they made me pose in the big picture window of the brothel, that faced the street, to draw in customers, and that it was too bad they couldn’t get a picture of me like that, because that would SURELY convince Judge Parker to reverse the order. Well, I shouldn’t have said that, because he talked to one of the pimps, and quicker than you can say PUTA I was in the window, my face still splattered with spluge, rubbing my pussy as I came over-and-over, while Mr. Cinders filmed it for Judge Parker. Oh, I shouldn’t have said anything! What a stupid airhead I am! It was SO HUMILIATING!”

“After he uploaded the movie to Judge Parker, I sort of let it slip that I spent the first weekend of each month working in the strip club, and that he might want to come back and see me then, after he got Judge Parker to reverse my enslavement order. He said he’d promise to do his best, and said he’d see me soon.”

“So he left you there? In the brothel?” the Deputy said, astonished by my story. “So what did you do?”

“Well, I got fucked, silly!” I said, tittering like an airheaded Pleasure Slut. I spent the next 13 days sucking dirty brown cocks, dirty black cocks, big cocks, small cocks, taking it up the ass, covered in seed. Oh, how I hoped Judge Parker would reverse my enslavement order, and save me from this beastly place!”

“Anyway, when Mr. Cinders finally returned, I was working in the strip club. He actually brought some of my clothes from Manhattan. He said I could either wear them on the trip home, or, if I wanted, I could put them on first and then strip for him.

“Can you imagine? How HUMILIATING! To have to put on my business clothes, just like the ones I’m wearing now…”

I fingered my jacket, and let the Deputy form a mental image.

“And then get up on stage, and strip down BARE naked for a roomful of shouting men, including my personal assistant? All my beautiful clothes, in a pile on some skanky wooden stage, while I finger myself for a room of jeering drunks, shouting at me in some foreign language I can’t understand. Can you imagine my humiliation?”

“I can,” the Deputy said. Glancing at the bulge in his pants I knew he wasn’t lying. “So did you go home with him?”

“No, silly! I asked him if he reversed my enslavement. He said he had, and had gotten an appellate court Judge to declare it null, and sign a full reversal. It wasn’t easy, because they almost NEVER do it, especially in Texas. But money talks!”

“So you went home with him?”

“No, Deputy Dumb-dumb! I wanted JUDGE PARKER to reverse the enslavement. Judge Parker had enslaved me, and I wanted him to sign the reversal.”

“But legally, if an appellate court judge reversed your enslavement…”

“NO! I wanted Judge Parker to admit it. I wanted him to admit I was never a Pleasure Slut. Don’t you see? I had sucked his cock. He had burned his damn ‘maker’s mark’ into my butt cheek, marking me like I was hog, or pewter cup. I wanted Judge Parker to admit he was wrong.”

The Deputy looked confused. “So what happened?”

“I put on my street clothes, and then got on stage, and stripped down naked in front of Mr. John Cinders. Then I fingered myself, and let him stick a dollar in my twat. He filmed it, and sent the movie to Judge Parker, so he could see me blush, and see the tears in my eyes as I had to strip for the man who had once been my gopher. Then Mr. Cinders took me into a private room, and fucked me like I was just a fuck-hole, a nameless, skanky Pleasure Slut. It was SO humiliating!”

The Deputy offered me his handkerchief as a tear ran down my cheek at the memory of my shame.

“And that wasn’t even the worse part. Like a total airhead, after he finished fucking me I told him that the next day I was going to be in … a slave girl sex circus. A circus where I’d have to perform, live on stage! Oh, it was dreadful. I can’t even describe the perverted things they made me do, and did to me, all under the crack of the whip!”

“Perform? What… what did they make you do?”

At this point, I whispered in the Deputy’s ear. The hardened, experienced slaver and law enforcement professional looked SHOCKED.

“The worst part was that Mr. John Cinders watched. He watched me perform in the sex circus! And he filmed it, and sent it to that awful Judge Parker. I thought for sure he’d release me then. But he didn’t. What a big, fat meanie!! So Mr. Cinders left, and I had to go back to sucking cock, and trolling for customers, and stripping, and… the sex circus.”

“It took weeks and weeks and a lot of money to get Judge Parker to reverse the order. I don’t know why it took him SO LONG, especially when Mr. Cinders sent him a video of me crying, and explaining that every second he delayed meant another cock in my mouth, or ass, or hot, wet slave pussy. Tick-tock! Tick-tock! But Judge Parker didn’t seem to be in any hurry at all.”

“Finally, Mr. Cinders bribed him into signing, and John arrived to rescue me, like a knight in shining armor. I loved him so much in that moment. I showered in a proper hotel, and walked into First Class looking PERFECT, much like you’d see me now. You’d never know I had been a Pleasure Slut…except for Judge Parker’s mark, of course. John proposed to me on the plane, and I accepted.”

“I love happy endings Did you and John get married when you got back to New York? Did you get him paroled?”

“No, silly. Once we landed in New York, I was in charge again. I was furious with him, for fucking me, and making me suck his cock, and strut around in the street for him like a whore, and then leaving me to perform in that awful sex circus. I talked to a Judge, and him enslaved, and sold to a gay S&M sex club. Cindy took FAR too long to rescue me, and really took advantage of me, treating me like I was some lowly Pleasure Slut. Now he is going to have to pay the price, and it's my turn to relish his humiliation. Forever. I still go to the club, and I've even had him lick my pussy a few times. Then I watch him perform on stage with the other gay boys. He looks quite miserable, but he really puts on quite the little show.”

THE END, FOR NOW

[gary]

love it!

[Scman493]

Thank you for the addition. I've taken this story so many ways in my head since the last Epilogue and oddly enough you included several aspects of my own continuation of the story. Love the self degradation of our heroin. Just love this type of story with a educated and well off women succumbing to her own perverse desires. A sort of "moth to flame" scenario. Thank you for writing.

[jeepster]

Great continuation ! Love everything Joe does!

[lovethissite]

Wow again. Loved it of course I hope there is more sometime but thanks for this.