Slave Parade, Part Three by Joe Doe

[imreadonly2]

Carlotta, bitch that she was, kept the rope riding up into my pussy during my run, creating a sensation as irritating as it was pleasurable. I say pleasurable, because despite my humiliation at the way Carlotta had trotted me through the streets, tied to my own bike like I was some sort of dog she was taking out for exercise, my pussy was soaking wet.

I’d had to take Slave Yoga during my senior year of High School, of course, and had gotten graded for both my student loans. I had told my mom that I was keeping up with my Slave Yoga so that I could get re-graded for my graduate student loans, which I did. However, once the loans were secured, the gig was up, and there was no legitimate reason for me to play slave girl in front of the mirror, except that I enjoyed it.

As I had a large mirror in my bedroom it wasn’t hard for me to continue to perfect my block moves. A lot of girls lose value as they get older, but I had gone from Choice Plus to Prime Minus between college and graduate school. Realistically, I knew my grade wouldn’t get any higher, but the slave training was an excellent way to keep fit, and the challenge of constant improvement appealed to my competitive streak.

I used my earbuds to listen to the commands and coaching, and as my idiot brother listened to headbanger music all day, which meant that no one could hear me repeat my slave mantras. Eventually, I worked up the nerve to sign up for some online classes, taught by actual Prime Pleasure Sluts, that REALLY helped me up my game. I had been really nervous about performing naked in front of my computer, but the instructor had told me she couldn’t help me if she couldn’t see me, and eventually I got comfortable enough to setup a couple of extra cameras.

As you could never be 110% sure who might show up for a class, I kept my settings programmed so that only the instructor could see me. I know guys sometimes signed up for the class just to watch free women or slave girls in training jill off on camera, slathering up their pussies and making slave faces on command. I rather liked the idea of doing it for a stranger, but the thought of performing for someone I knew horrified me. I had worked hard to build up a persona as serious professional woman, beautiful yes, but also brainy. I knew all of that could be erased in an instant if my professors and work colleagues came to see me as just another slave ho with the impossibly wet twat.

My instructor, Hummer, had convinced me to get myself a shock collar, to sharpen my training. Again, I was reluctant, but she was right, and simply feeling the metal prongs dig into my neck made my performance sharper. She started me on a very low setting, but gradually ramped it up, and my obedience scores went through the roof! After a few weeks, I didn’t object when she shared my images with some of the lurkers from overseas. Hummer even sent me a “free” camera that her tech crew could control that could zoom in for closeups. I know the class was probably making money on me now, selling pictures of my pussy twitching through slavegasm to a collection of swarthy lowlifes. My pussy was particularly popular in Iran and Saudi Arabia, who sanctimoniously banned porn but had no problem participating in the ritual humiliation of “American infidel dog bitches fit only for the collar,” was one bearded cleric who was a regular viewer of mine put it. Guys are guys.

This could have gone on forever, as I don’t think mom or dad would have a clue if Vanna White sold it to them. However as soon as Gash entered my bedroom to put away my clothes, and saw the camera Hummer had sent me, the gig was up. She didn’t SAY anything, but grinned at me, and bit her lip to keep from laughing as Mom told her how perfect and smart and dainty her little princess was.

“Taylor studies all the time,” Mom explained. “She never stops.”

“I bet,” Gash replied, as she took the riding crop off the hook on the wall. “Do you ride much, Mistress?” Gash asked, fingering the leather lash on the end of the tip, still wet from my morning exercises.

“Not anymore,” my mom said. “Really, I don’t know why she keeps that old thing around.”

Gash knew, and she gave me a wink after bringing the whip up to her nose to smell my fresh scent.

Things had deteriorated steadily after that. My brother and then my dad were quickly hypnotized by the skanky, cock sucking ho, and after she made herself into the perfect houseslave, even mom became annoyed at my increasingly bold attempts to have her sold or even punished.

“I don’t know why I should whip Gash,” mom would say. “She does more chores around the house in a day than you’ve done in the last year.”

Gash knew I wanted to have her whipped and sold, and although she couldn’t retaliate against me directly, she worked diligently to undermine my position within my family, constantly complimenting my father on how much money he was spending on my tuition. “I can’t believe what you’re paying for her Masters, Master,” she said. “My father thought I was old enough to make him money, not spend it all.”

I had suggested getting my brother’s initials branded on her fat ass for my brother’s birthday. Mom liked the idea, but dad vetoed it, saying that her ass was too perfect. I said we could get a small brand of each of his initials on the inside of her ass cheek, and Dad agreed, much to Gash’s dismay.

I didn’t leave her anytime to cock-suck her way out of her fate, and took her to the auction house right away to have it done, caging her in her kennel and giving her a wild coaster ride as she slid around in the back of my dad’s flatbed truck. At the auction house I took my time picking out the brand, and insisted that each letter be applied one at a time, “to maximize the experience.” I put the wooden stick between her pearly whites, lacing it up, "nice and tight, like your ass." At my insistence, the blacksmith included my brother’s middle initial, and knelt in front of her, smiling and wiggling her little nose as each brand was applied.

“I want you too look at me, slave girl, as the brand burns into your ass, and remember who is in charge. I am in charge, and you are tits and ass.”

Gash REALLY despised me after that, which was fine, as I hated her, too. I made her part her butt cheeks and show her brand to all my friends, and everyone who came to the house, even the mailman. I think he appreciated the show.

I enjoyed teaching the little slut a lesson about power, but Gash was about to teach me how transitory power can be. When things went sideways was when mom pulled me aside for a mother-daughter talk a few days later.

“Gash showed me your performance online, in front of all those men,” mom said, taking my hand. “I’ll be honest with you, Taylor, I was really shocked. Disgusted even! Rubbing yourself that way, and licking your fingers. I was angry at first, particularly when I saw the people you were performing for, but Gash explained that it wasn’t something did, it was something you were, and I needed to love and accept you for who you are. Gash was so kind, and understanding. She loves you like a sister, you know.”

I knew that was bullshit, but the emotion in mom’s voice overwhelmed me, and I started to cry.

Mom embraced me, and patted my back, comforting me as if I had skinned my knee. “There, there, my little angel, let it all out. I love you. I’m there for you, always. I can help you through this. What I want to know is, why didn’t you come to me if you wanted to be a Pleasure Slut?”

I sniveled and cried into her shoulder, both too shocked to speak, and uncertain as to what to say.

"Don't worry. Gash and I are going to help you through this. Gash thinks the first step is to stop all this terrible sneaking around. There's nothing to be ashamed of, if this is who you are, and in any event, shame is part of being a slave girl, isn' tit? Don't worry, sweetie. We are going to help you work through these feelings, and understand who you are."

[jeepster]

That was great! Waiting with bated breath for the next installment!

[Citizen1069]

You should be very careful of the Slave Yoga online classes you take. There was this one online class that recorded all of the students and used that video to show a judge that they had already "self enslaved" by their actions in the class. The teacher offered the class for free, but made a nice profit off the sale of all of the students, and is still offering the same class today.

[imreadonly2]

Definitely. When it comes to slave training and slave grading, FREE can suddenly become quite expensive.

[lovethissite]

Joe: Just re-read the entire series to date and loved it more than after my first reading. Taylor will never live this down and should be put up for auction, after her branding of course. Please continue. This was a wonderful chapter and I look forward to reading about Taylors Parade adventure. Karma is a bitch, and her former family, Gash, and the rest of the town should have fun with Slave Taylor.