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slippingblissfully · 2 days ago

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New Girl

CW: Lezdom, light elements of ageplay, hucow, 24/7 service

I - Arrival

Vicky took the news the same way she took everything that came from her Mistress: with a mixture of complete acceptance, anticipation, and the need to do her absolute best to please, to be of use to that marvelous, superior being. Her body almost shivered, but Vicky stopped it in time. She had been trained to perfection, and now, naked on all fours, her Mistress’ perfect feet resting on her back, she knew she would not -could not- move. She was a footstool, not a person. She always was whatever Lucía desired her to be, nothing more and nothing less. Still, she could feel a warm sensation between her legs when she thought of what was to come. She didn’t know if it was her own mind teasing her or the prospect of further obedience- her Mistress’ desires and her own needs were one and the same, her reactions impossible to distinguish from what had been trained into her. That’s why the news made perfect sense.

A part of Vicky wondered, her Mistress’ statement echoing in her mind.

“A new girl will come here. Not like you, of course. You are my property, fully and forever. No, this girl belongs to someone else. An old friend of mine. Apparently, she has something of a rebellious streak- and I’ve been hired to make her… well, as obedient as you. And you, my doll, will assist me. She will obey me, to learn her true place. Her true self.”

Vicky felt something like pride- if objects could feel pride, that is. Of course Mistress Lucía was the best at turning girls into the best, most obedient, most perfectly trained version of themselves. That someone would pay her for the service was only a testament to her skill. But then again, Vicky was Lucía’s masterpiece: and in that perfect obedience, in that need to serve a please above anything else, she found her pride. Vicky was an object. A perfectly crafted object. How could she not feel a tad prideful about that?

She did wonder, however, about the girl that would arrive soon. How did some “rebel” end up in the service of an older Mistress? What need did she seek to fulfill by her servitude? The shifting of her Mistress’ feet on her back snapped her back into reality. She was a footstool. Furniture did not think.

The following day, Vicky was getting everything ready. Wearing her maid’s uniform, which showed off her ample cleavage -enhanced by surgery to make her look like the stupid bimbo she was inside- she got the drinks ready. Alcohol for the Mistresses… and fruit juice for the new girl, as commanded by Lucía.

“She needs to understand she’s a girl. Only her superiors are real women. Time for her to accept that”, Lucía had said. Even in her casual clothes, jeans and a blouse, she shined in an imposing way that made it clear that the statement wasn’t an expression of desire but a promise of what was to come.

The bell rang and Vicky dutifully opened the door, kneeling in front of the classy, modestly dressed in perfectly tasteful black, imposing older woman; thus signaling her own role as a slave to be used. The woman barely deigned to look at Vicky as she made her way in, a young woman one step behind her. Vicky, who should have been looking at the floor, couldn’t help herself and she took a glance at the newcomer.

The first thing that struck Vicky was the girl’s hair. It almost didn’t seem real, with its fiery red hues reaching almost to down to the waist, its coppery sheen and its swaying fullness. It somehow made her imposing, like a conquering queen engulfed by the flames of victory. Her short, white sundress with little pink hearts did a good job signaling what was hidden beneath it. Vicky had to confess to herself that, yes, she was a bit jealous. Sure, the new girl also had big dumb bimbo tits and a face that contrasted with them by its innocence- almost as if she embodied both the saintly virgin and the corrupt whore in one body, but that hair… for some reason it made Vicky feel something strange, dark deep inside her. Something like a need to see this girl broken. Well, her Mistress would take care of that.

“Rose”, the regal, older woman said. “My girl. For the next few weeks you will obey Mistress Lucía as you would obey me. You will serve her and learn everything she teaches you. You will be remade into the perfect girl for your Mommy. And you do want to be better for Mommy, don’t you?”

A second passed. Vicky could see something like defiance flash for a second behind Rose’s eyes, before she responded.

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Well, little Rose”, said Lucía taking a step towards her new pupil, “let’s see what I’m working with. Disrobe.”

Rose turned to look at the older woman, but Lucía stopped her with a sharp tone.

“No. Don’t look at her. Look at me. She was quite clear, was she not? You are to obey me until you are good enough to return to your Mommy. So, disrobe. Now.”

And there it was again. That little flash of defiance. Pride. Vicky could feel something growing inside her. How dared this girl not accept her place as inferior to their Goddess? Finally, she complied, and Lucía walked around her slowly, carefully, studying every inch of her naked body. It certainly was a body to behold- even Vicky had to admit that. Lucía, however, looked less than impressed.

“I see”, she said as she squeezed Rose’s naked skin, caressed it, analyzed it like a cattle buyer evaluating a new cow in their barn. “That pretty face, so innocent- and those big, slutty tits of yours… they must have been very useful in your life. Is that it? I’m sure so many people, so many men treated you like a princess… let you get away with doing whatever you pleased. That’s it, isn’t it? So what happened? You got bored, didn’t you? Bored with people treating you like a fucking queen. And you need to be treated as what you are, even if a part of you still feels you deserve better. Well… you don’t. Vicky, get up and come here. We are going to remind this cunt of a few simple facts.”

Like a puppet, Vicky leaped to her feet. Lucía’s orders were absolute.

“That pretty, pretty face… Vicky, slap her. Hard.”

The blonde bimbo’s hand moved before she could even process the command. She had never inflicted pain on someone else- and yet, something inside her drove her to put all her strength into that slap, to wipe the pride off the little bitch’s face, to show her the power of their Mistress. Maybe in another time she might have felt bad about it, but now… it had been an order, and Vicky obeyed. That was all that mattered.

Shock barely had time to set in Rose’s eyes before a second command came.

“Slave… play with this uppity cunt. Show her she’s just tits and holes, and a slave to both.”

That was something Vicky excelled at. She had been trained to perfection, after all. It was her purpose, deep down. To bring pleasure. She knew how to feel a body, how to pinpoint the weakest points, the places that sent shivers down the spine, she knew how to caress, tease, vary pressure, motion and speed to get a pussy nice and wet… and she went at the prideful redhead like an animal. Lucía watched as the first moans escaped her trainee’s lips and, almost with a whisper, started going deep inside her mind, choosing her words carefully.

“See how easy it is? You really think you have any sort of power? Of control? Silly little girl, your body is screaming the truth at you, and you’re to fucking dumb to understand it! It needs you to serve. It wants you to obey. It feels so, so good when you’re being used, doesn’t it? Because it’s what it was made for. You have those big, stupid tits because you were born to be a fuckdoll. That’s all you’ll ever be. All you ever need to be.”

Vicky’s skilled fingers could feel the effect her Mistress’ words were having on the newcomer. The girl was getting soaked, her muscles relaxing, slowly letting go.

“You think you deserve better? That you are more than just a toy for me to play with whenever I wish? Why? Because you are oh, so pretty? Bad news, sweetie: you are a fucktoy and a flawed one at that. You think I didn’t notice how your fucking ass sags? How your legs are too thick? Do you really believe you are so perfect? You didn’t even shave properly! No, you dumb slut. You are just a piece of lumpy clay to be molded. And you want to be molded, don’t you? Your body needs it. You need it. You want to accept your place, deep down. You want to be made better. You want to serve. You want to be reshaped into the perfect little empty doll you were born to be. Your cunt is telling you right now! It loves to obey. It loves to be abused. It loves whatever I say it loves…”

Without warning, Lucía struck Rose’s ass as hard as she could- which, Vicky knew from experience, was really hard. A yelp escaped the redhead’s lips.

“Even pain. Can you feel it? Pain and pleasure mixing inside you? How your body can’t tell them apart? That’s because you were born to serve, little Rose. Let your slutty body take over. Listen to it. It’s all you are. It’s what matters. And it needs to obey. It needs to… kneel.”

Lucía placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder and gently, lovingly yet undeniably pushed towards the ground. Slowly, by inches, Rose found herself going to her knees, her body obeying Lucía almost despite her own will. The way the blonde slave played with her neck, her tits, her pussy… her mind was fuzzy, weak, confused… but her body seemed to know exactly what to do, the feeling of the hand on her shoulder dictating her actions as inevitably as law. When she saw Lucía removing a single shoe, exposing a beautiful foot, she didn’t even need to be told what to do. It was like in a dream: her body went lower, acting on its own, prostrating itself before her superior. It looked like defeat. It looked like a prayer.

The moment Rose’s lips touched that soft foot, her new life began.

II - Improvement

Even Rose had to admit she was having trouble keeping up. Even after two weeks of daily service, she felt as useless as the first day. On the other hand, Vicky seemed unable to feel exhaustion at all. Dressed in identical maid outfits -or rather, tiny tops and skirts that hinted at maid uniforms- they carefully went all over the house making sure every single corner, every shelf, every inch of the floor was immaculate for their Mistress. Rose even started doubting her own eyes: Vicky appeared to see dust in places that looked, to the new girl, perfectly clean… until the blonde maid pointed out the imperfections in the cleaning, and made Rose do it all over again.

That in itself would have been hard enough, but Rose had some added weight to deal with. Literally. The weights affixed to her wrists and legs made walking, going on the floor, reaching for high places a full body exercise. By mid morning she was usually coated with a shining layer of sweat. She hated it, and yet she couldn’t argue with the results. Her body was getting more toned. She was getting slimmer. Her stamina was slowly improving. She thought about that first day, about the words Lucía had drilled into her mind. She was imperfect. That stung- but also lit a fire inside Rose. She would be the best. She would be perfect.

Of course, they were always ready to serve their Mistress whenever she desired, however she desired. Rose thought, before this new training, that she knew what service meant. She did serve her Mommy, after all. But witnessing Vicky’s level of devotion, her utter selfless ability to do anything, to be anything that was desired of her, left Rose somewhere between admiration and pain for her own inadequacy. She could feel that rebellious streak inside herself, and hated it more and more.

She was tired, lost in thought when Lucía walked in, wearing lingerie and sharp, black heels. The girls got into position: on their knees, chests out, staring at the floor. Lucía walked around the room slowly, luxuriating in her own power, before declaring, simply:

“I want to relax.”

She sat down on a beautiful sofa and with a simple gesture summoned Vicky. The bimbo knew exactly what to do, what to be. She rushed to her owner and got on all fours. A shiver went down her spine as she felt the sharp heels on her back. She was a footstool. Nothing more. It was then that Lucía did something new, something Vicky had never seen her do.

She lit a cigarette.

Rose stared at her temporary Mistress. She had never thought smoking could be sexy, but the way the smoke curled around Lucía’s face, the way her body relaxed with each puff gave her the air of a mysterious, wonderful, terrible goddess. One that fixed her gaze on the new toy.

“Come here. Can’t you see I need an ashtray, you dumb slut?”

Rose felt frozen for a moment. An ashtray? Should she find one? She didn’t remember seeing one in the house. Suddenly she felt cold fear gripping her. Fear of disappointing this perfect woman.

“You really are stupid, aren’t you? I said come here.”

Rose did as she was told, and crawled towards Lucía.

“Good. Now, on your back.”

Rose obeyed. It felt good to have such simple instructions.

“I suppose you’re too brainless to realize you’re too low to be a good ashtray, so I’ll spell it out for you once. Feet flat on the ground. Hands over your head. Now, arch your back. Bridge position.”

It was difficult. It hurt to maintain the position. And yet something took over Rose. A sort of… peace. She didn’t need to think. She didn’t need to do anything but be in the moment. Be the ashtray. Be useful. Every bit of ash that was deposited on her bellybutton only filled that need to serve more and more. Even as her muscles shook, there was nothing else in the world, nothing but the perfect sensation of being an object for her Mistress. She briefly wondered if Vicky got to feel like that all the time.

Rose couldn’t tell how long it took. Logically, it must have been a few minutes. To her, it was both a second and a lifetime. She snapped back to the present when she heard Lucía’s voice casually giving a command and getting up to enjoy the show.

“Vicky, clean the ashtray.”

The blonde slave did as she was told. Her tongue felt warm on Rose’s skin, and somehow the living ashtray felt as if this was an honor- one she had been granted without deserving it. She felt gratitude. She felt joy. She felt empty and blissful.

She would do everything to feel like that again.

III - Metamorphosis

After a month of training, Rose believed she knew, truly, the essence of service. She believed that inner spark of rebellion, which still lingered, could be managed. She believed she understood the full nature of her role.

All these things she believed mistakenly.

It was on one particularly warm night that she learned just how deep her inadequacy ran. Lucía had summoned Vicky alone a little while back, and Rose could do nothing but wait for her to be needed. She needed that. She needed to be useful. When she was finally called into the living room, she had no way to know what was awaiting her.

Vicky was tied to a wooden structure Rose didn’t recognize yet was weirdly famiRoser- it was certainly not one of the instruments Lucía had used on her or the blonde slut. However, its purpose became quickly apparent, and Rose understood where she had seen such things. It was a variation of farming equipment. More specifically, to keep cows still when they were being milked.

It was then that a few things clicked into place. Specifically, the mysterious medication Vicky took every day. Rose had asked, worried that her role model might need help; but Vicky had only given her a smile and a simple “you’ll see when you are ready.”

Well, she was seeing it now. Lucía was walking around her bound cow, a whip in hand. Casually, almost as an afterthought, she squeezed one of Vicky’s breasts, and warm milk shot into a small bucket, placed right under her udders. What was most strange was that along with a soft moan, Vicky said simply:

“Moooo!”

Rose understood then what true devotion meant. What true service meant. Even when her mistresses whipped her firm ass, the blonde cow only mooed, as if her brain was only capable of being, fully, a cow for her owner. Lucía looked at Rose and smiled.

“Are you starting to see? Come here, cunt. Time for you to feed.”

She understood instantly. She didn’t need to be commanded to crawl- that much seemed obvious to Rose. She was a pet. An animal. Nothing more. She went under the bimbo, let her soft lips part and took an engorged nipple into her mouth.

It was heavenly. Milk flowed into her and she felt like nothing more than a child, a stupid, ignorant thing to be educated. Rose sucked and Vicky mooed in pleasure. Their Mistress started whispering into the calf’s ear.

“Do you understand now, you dumb fucktoy? She made her body lactate because I wished her to. Her body is not hers, not even at its most fundamental level. Just like your body is not yours. Your mind is not yours. You are whatever your owner wants you to be. You don’t deserve to be more. You are a living doll, nothing more.”

Rose took it all in. As the warm milk entered her body, Lucía’s words entered her mind. They both felt right. They both felt simple, obvious. And with each word, each mouthful of the wonderful milk, every moo that reached her ears, that spark of rebellion grew smaller and smaller.

“Your owner wants you to be her perfect baby girl. Her empty doll to dress up and turn into whatever she desires. She even chose your entire new aesthetic. Your new personality. But you were too prideful to accept it. Do you still have pride? Do you still have that delusion that you are more than just her fucktoy to do as she wishes?”

Rose couldn’t speak, but a moan told Lucía everything she needed to know. The girl was finally ready.

“Pet, unbind the cow and kneel in the middle of the room. Cow, go to the corner and play with that slutty pussy of yours”

As one, they obeyed. As she waited, kneeling, looking down, Rose was ready for anything. She would do anything. She would accept anything. She would become anything for her Owner. That was all that mattered.

“You need to be made clean. You need to return to nothingness. To go back to zero, so your owner may mold you as she sees fit. And you need to finally let go of the last remaining bit of your pride. You may think it’s not there, but I can smell it in you. I see it behind your eyes, still. But don’t worry, little doll. I will make you perfect.”

The buzz of the electric clippers sent a shiver through Rose’s soul. She didn’t have time to fully process it. Instead, her eyes focused on the empty, rubbing blonde in the corner, moaning her soft mooing. And lock after lock of red head fell before her eyes, almost framing the human cow. As her hair was removed, as she started feeling the air on her scalp, Rose felt emptier and emptier. Whatever was left of her past was disappearing with every strand that landed on the floor. And the emptier she got, the more Vicky rubbed, the louder she mooed. Her will, her dignity, her entire sense of self fell, bit by bit, on that floor.

Soon, she felt completely empty. Completely at peace. Soft and ready to be remade. As Lucía shaved off every bit of hair from her body, Rose felt more and more like a newborn, like a baby, like a being that depended entirely on the will of her superiors.

“Soft and smooth. Perfect to become the little girl your owner wants. But she doesn’t want just any slave toy. No, she wants you to become something very particular… and you will do it, won’t you, doll?”

“Yes, Mistress Lucía.”

The words escaped Rose’s lips without her even thinking it.

IV - Graduation

Vicky had set the stage perfectly. At the command of Lucía, she had purchased colored lights to give the ceremony a bit of ambiance, and she had chosen the finest champagne for the women to celebrate. Champagne, she knew, she didn’t deserve to taste.

The older, regal woman sat comfortably, ready to see her new property. Lucía was confident in what she had achieved, and had Vicky between her legs, serving her perfect pussy as she chatted with her friend, not even paying attention to the dumb blonde that was doing her best to bring her pleasure.

When the time came, Rose entered the room. It was hard to believe this person was the same girl that had come into the house a month or so earlier. In many ways, it wasn’t.

It wasn’t just the clothing: black leather corset, latex boots with spiked heels, no underwear, her perfectly smooth pussy visible to everyone, a choker around her neck. It wasn’t the makeup: dark, heavy, with black winged eyeliner and deep, red lips. It wasn’t the wig: jet black like a raven’s plumage, glinting with an almost blueish tint. It was the way she moved, the expression on her face, the rebellion that now was just a mask, just an outfit to be worn and changed at her owner’s whim. Her entire being embodied the fantasy of a goth bimbo, a dark yet obedient angel. She embodied that fantasy just as she could embody any fantasy. She was hollow inside, ready to become whatever was required of her. It was time to show, fully, what she had become. Rose smiled with mischief. She went down to the floor and slowly opened her legs before running a finger to show off how soaked her obedient cunt was.

“Mommy…” she pleaded with a voice between a poor, vulnerable girl and a skillful seductress. “Look at me, my Mommy, my Owner, My Goddess. Look at your little girl… I’m so sorry, Mommy… sorry I wasn’t good enough to serve you before. Sorry I didn’t realize sooner what a fucking piece of fuckmeat I am. Sorry I thought I was more than just you fuckdoll, your object, your total slave to do whatever you please, whenever you please! Because that’s all I am, Mommy. I am nothing. I am just whatever you tell me to be. I believe whatever Mommy tells me to believe. I do whatever Mommy tells me to do… anything at all… I don’t exist. I am only holes and tits and slutty lips and an eager tongue… I am your furniture and your plaything and your sex toy and your pain addicted slut! I’ll do anything you say, with anyone you say. Rent me out if you want. Sell me if you get bored of me. Change my tastes, my look, everything about me whenever you wish. I only exist for you, Mommy… I am nothing… I am nothing… I am nothing…”

The girl was right on the edge, but the women knew she wouldn’t cum unless told to. Her face was a mixture of pleasure and pain and complete need for approval. She wasn’t just desperate to serve: she needed to obey just as she needed to breathe. There was nothing else behind her eyes. There certainly was no spark of rebellion left.

Lucía smiled and turned to her friend.

“Money well spent?”

The older woman licked her lips, ready to take home her new, perfect pet.

“The best.”

V - Mommy Knows Best

The house felt bigger, somehow- or perhaps Rose felt smaller, more like a pet, more like a pretty piece of decoration. As the women entered the living room, Rose instantly went on her knees, head down, chest out, ready to do whatever Mommy desired. She had no other need, no other impulse but to serve and obey. What she didn’t expect was to discover that she indeed still held the capacity for surprise within her heart.

“My slutty little toy…” said Mommy. “Go to your room. There… you’ll know what to do”

“Yes, Mommy”, answered the doll.

Rose crawled to her room. Inside, she saw something she didn’t expect, and yet, that something made perfect sense in her mind. She was empty. She was clay to be molded. And there, neatly placed on the bed, were the garments of her new self. A new self that would last as long as Mommy desired.

With every garment she put on she felt her demeanor change more and more. She would embody what her Mommy desired fully. She would be her fantasy perfectly. That was what mattered. Mommy didn’t need to tell her who to be. The clothing and the wig made the point exceedingly clear. Rose took a moment to observe her new hair, and all she could do was to admire Mommy’s diligence. Surely her owner had looked at many pictures from long ago- before she had dyed her hair red, before she had been consumed by pride- to perfectly match her natural hair color. It made her feel naked, in a strange way.

In her bed, Mommy waited, expecting to be delighted- and indeed her wishes came true in the best way possible. When Rose walked into the bedroom, what Mommy saw was not the goth slave that had entered the house a few minutes earlier. No, indeed what she saw was a different person altogether.

Dressed in her beautiful, short white and pink dress, her knee-high socks, her cute shoes… her hair in two perfect pigtails, her makeup junt hinting at a youthful blush… Rose was everything Mommy could ever dream her to be at that moment. A perfect mixture of pure innocence and the potential for that innocence’s shattering. And her eyes… wide, loving, trusting, bright like the moon. Her smile had the purity of unconditional adoration and the kind of love reserved for those a person would trust their life to. She was the embodiment of the babygirl Mommy had always imagined, while her natural curves added just a bit of perversion, of temptation. It was a role, sure, but one Rose had made entirely hers. At that moment she was that obedient, innocent girl her Mommy desired… and being whatever Mommy desired felt better than anything in the world.

The older woman smiled.

“Give Mommy a hug”, she cooed.

Rose skipped towards her Mommy and launched herself into her arms. She felt safe and happy in a way she couldn’t explain. She felt hands holding her body tight… then slowly roaming over it, caressing it, exploring it… a soft moan escaped Rose’s lips and her Mommy leaped at the opportunity it represented.

“What’s wrong, my doll?”, she asked playfully.

“I feel funny, Mommy”, said Rose, embodying her role to perfection.

“Funny? Where?”

“Down… down there, Mommy…” blushed Rose.

She immediately felt Mommy’s finger brush against her cute cotton panties, and her breathing started to quicken, her heart beating like a drum in anticipation. The finger soon went in front of Rose’s eyes, glistening under the light.

“Look at this, babygirl. Your little pussy is getting so soaked already! You know who gets wet like that? Little sluts, that’s who!��

Rose feigned horror.

“Mommy! I’m sorry… I don’t know why… am I being a bad girl?”

“It’s not your fault, my little doll. Your pussy is just a slutty hole, that likes it when older women touch it. But you need to learn that being a little fucking slut has consequences. And I will teach you.”

“Yes, Mommy. Please make me better! I want to be good, so good for you!”

Almost in the blink of an eye, Rose was face down on the soft bed, her wrists and ankles bound with incredible skill. She wriggled a bit, but was determined to take her punishment like a good girl. She felt as her skirt was slowly lifted, her panties pulled down to her knees. Mommy was taking her time, enjoying every second.

“Mommy…”, mumbled Rose.

“Shhh. This is for your own good. Slutty girls get punished. You understand that, don’t you, my little toy?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

Time stretched into infinity, and every second made Rose’s body become more and more sensitive, ready to fully feel anything Mommy chose to make her feel. The anticipation was making her pussy leave a wet spot on the mattress, and feeling that spot against her skin only made Rose feel like a dumb animal in heat… which only served to make her wetter and wetter… she fought the urge to move, to somehow grind against that mattress that now smelled of her own degradation.

The first stroke of the paddle hit her light lightning. She deserved it. She deserved whatever Mommy chose to do to her. Stroke after stroke, her ass grew so hot it Rose felt she couldn’t take anymore- while knowing she would take anything for Mommy. Pain and pleasure became one and her mind went blank. She was a doll. All she could do was feel, accept, obey.

Before she knew it, Rose’s head was being pushed down into the wet spot on the mattress. She could smell her own perversion, and loved every second of it.

“Lick it clean, pet”, ordered Mommy.

Rose’s body obeyed.

VI - Cocktail Hour

Once the guests settled in, they couldn’t take their lustful eyes off the maid- and they didn’t try to hide it one bit.

They were all older women, all dressed immaculately in their own style, wearing their best jewelry, their finest garments. This was, after all, a special occasion indeed-, even if they playfully refused to say it out loud. Rose watched Mommy laugh and mingle. God, she was so wonderful. But the girl didn’t have time to gawk: she had to serve, after all.

Rose’s outfit had been crafted with a special artistry. It was a maid’s uniform, sure, and a sexy one at that- but it also had a frilly skirt that hinted at the innocence of a little girl’s favorite dress, knee-high socks with decorative bows on them, and a cute, pink set of panties that peeked from under her skirt with the slightest motion. It was a strategic masterpiece, designed to tease the senses while giving off a certain element of taboo, of a specific perversion. And Rose understood, on an primitive level, exactly what her role in the evening was.

It was a silent dance at first, a game of seduction and restraint. It started with the “accidental” touching of Rose’s ample cleavage as she served drinks, a subtle grazing of her thighs as she walked among the guests, an errant hand brushing against her buttocks. She knew what to do, and ignored the throbbing between her legs that begged her to simply go on her knees and worship these goddesses. She knew she had to be their prey, make herself as oblivious as possible, let them play their role as she played hers.

Soon the guests were abuzz, praising Mommy for her wonderful babygirl. “So cute!”, they said. “So well-behaved!”, they cooed. None of them said out loud what they were really thinking when they looked at Rose. Seeing Mommy’s keen approval of their praises, they took a step towards their goal.

“Come here, you sweet thing!”, one said, patting her lap. Rose did as she was told, her every movement a dance of simple, pure innocence. She sat on the guest’s lap and pretended to ignore the way the guest’s eyes were drawn to her breasts, the way her hand roamed from her waist to her thigh, the way the guests took in the scent of her neck. It was hard to keep her own pussy in check, to keep playing her role- but she’d be what Mommy wanted her to be.

“No fair!”, whined another guest. “You can’t keep such a sweet thing all to yourself!”

The new guest gestured Rose to go to her, and the doll, like a pet, skipped to where she was told to go. This woman was bolder than the first. Her slender fingers brushed against the cotton panties, and Rose failed to hold back a soft sigh. The woman smiled and whispered: “Does that feel good, little doll?”. Rose could only nod her head. She could feel her thinking becoming more and more blurry and fuzzy, weakened by the eyes on her, the way her body was being used simply as entertainment. When another guest called her over, she started moving before she even realized what she was doing.

Among the cocktails, the conversations, the laughs, Rose was passed around from older woman to older woman. She just let them do whatever they wished with her. That was her only purpose. Some fondled her big tits. Some focused on her pussy, skillfully pushing her panties aside. Some preferred to caress her legs, her face, her lips. Rose was on fire yet completely powerless inside. She was just a doll. The words echoed in her mind. Just a doll to be played with, dressed up, turned into whatever Mommy desired. And Mommy chose who got to play with her doll.

It was as if someone had diLucíad up something inside Rose’s brain. Her body was more sensitive than ever, almost as if every inch of her skin was as wonderfully receptive to pleasure as her clit. Soon she was shaking, trying to hold back the need to kiss these women’s feet, moaning softly like some dumb, horny animal. The women could see Rose’s arousal, smell her vulnerability. They too held back as much as they could, but the air itself was thick with the scent of sex, the primal desire to conquer, to possess, to use. They all knew the little game could not last much longer- and indeed, it didn’t.

It started with a spank. Not a playful one: a strong, firm, painful slap right on Rose’s right buttcheek. That one act caused her to moan loudly, lustfully, signaling to everyone that the babygirl was ripe for the taking. It was as if a dam had collapsed.

Rose was pushed to the ground. It felt right, to be lower than all these superior beings. Whatever they chose to do to her, she would accept with all her heart. She deserved nothing more. She was no longer a person, and she knew she’d never go back to pretending she was worthy of anything more than what real people desired of her.

As she felt hands ripping her clothes off, grabbing her body in a frenzy, turning her into just a piece of fuckmeat, Rose felt, more than ever, that she was home.

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