Quick note: This first part is just the introduction. In my mind, it was about three or four paragraphs, but it kind of got away from me and I didn't want to take anything out. I also decided to try my hand at adding an illustration. I'm not the best artist by any means but I thought it was worth adding. The next part will include the actual catfight (and possibly another drawing or two).The SlaveKayla bent down to make sure the second chair was perfectly across from the other. She had already arranged all of the other furniture, dusted and scrubbed the entire room, as well as seen to countless other minutia. Everything had to be absolutely perfect.
She was just about to take her place when
she walked in. Kayla started to turn but then immediately remembered herself and looked down. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her careful work being inspected. It seemed like it was all going well until Kayla glanced her bending down and picking something up. Eyes cast down, it was all Kayla could do to keep herself from shaking in nervous anticipation.
Suddenly, a finger was thrust in Kayla's face. On it could barely be called a speck of dirt, or maybe a crumb. Whatever it was, it didn't belong, it wasn't perfect.
"Open," was all she said. When Kayla opened her mouth, she thrust her finger in it, dislodging whatever the speck had been. "We'll talk about that afterwards."
"Yes, mistress..." Kayla replied meekly.
"Now, get where you belong, slave." There were no names used. Kayla was simply "slave." Kayla had heard others call her mistress Isabelle, but she never dared call her that. To Kayla, she was "mistress."
Distraught, Kayla turned to get into her place at the foot of the chair facing the door. "Now!" her mistress yelled, giving her a hard slap on her ass. Kayla squeaked and rushed over. The thong she wore was the only article of clothing allowed to her and did nothing to soften the spank.
At least it was only one this time, she thought. Then she remembered the crumb and knew that there would be many more before the evening was over.
Kayla didn't have to be told what to do for this part. She knelt at the foot of the chair and waited. After her mistress attached the leash to her collar, she lay on her side, leaning up slightly. Any visitors walking through the front door would be greeted by her mistress sitting regally with a collared, barely clothed slave lying submissively at her feet. The power dynamic was immediately obvious. Despite all she needed to endure when she was alone with her mistress, Kayla had never gotten over the feeling of shame she felt whenever someone new walked in and saw her like that. Her life was humiliating enough
without witnesses to see it.
From what she could gather, her mistress was a leader of a gang that had taken over this part of the town. Other members of her gang would smirk at Kayla when they saw her. Civilians who stopped by to pay tribute would look at her in shock and then pity.
It hadn't always been like this. Kayla could remember the time before all the trouble started. The time when she was in control of her life and belonged to no one. She was a freshman in college, newly on her own. She worried more about her plans for the weekend than what was going on on the news. When it started to spread, Kayla had been worried but still assumed everything would go back to normal. Once it spread to her college and the gangs started to openly rule the streets, it became impossible to ignore.
Eventually, food and other supplies started to become scarce. Kayla had been staying at her sorority house with some of her friends. They always used a buddy system when they went out for supplies, but this time they went further into the city than she ever had and she became separated from her partner. She tried to find her way back, but that's when she saw
her. They were roughly the same age and at 5'8", Kayla was fairly tall and had at least three or four inches on her. Even so, Kayla was scared. She knew at this point that other people could be dangerous. Kayla saw the knife on her belt and took out her own, the only weapon she had. She told her to stay away. The other girl looked her up and down and just laughed before throwing her knife on the ground.
She knew I was weak just by looking at me, Kayla would later reflect.
As the other girl came at her, Kayla tried to swipe with her knife. In less than five seconds, the knife was in her opponent's hand before she dropped that one as well. What followed was some of the worst pain Kayla had ever been in as the other girl battered her. In less than two minutes, Kayla was running for her life. Her opponent had easily caught her and continued her assault. Kayla had been helpless to stop her. Kayla begged and pleaded to be let go, but the other girl was unmoved. In less than four minutes, Kayla was on her hands and knees, kissing her feet as she was commanded, and calling this other girl, "mistress."
Ordered to take off her clothes, Kayla stripped naked, had her hands bound behind her back, had a collar and leash put around her neck, and had been a slave ever since.
How could this be happening, was all she could think as she was roughly led back. While she wouldn't have described herself as tough, Kayla had had no shortage of pride. She never would have imagined that this could happen to her. The shame of being so humbled, of being so completely dominated by another girl, was enough on its own to make her cry sometimes.
It could be worse, she told herself sometimes.
I don't have to forage for supplies anymore. And instead of her, it could have been a man or a group of men like her. That might have been worse in many ways. But at least she wouldn't have felt as pathetic as she did at the feet of her mistress, a girl smaller than her no less.
Thinking about this again, playing the events in her head for the thousandth time, Kayla almost sighed before thinking better. Her mistress punished her for anything even remotely defiant. When she had first surrendered and called her conqueror "mistress," she told herself that they were just words. She would do what she was told and act the part of the slave for as long as she needed to, but never truly surrender, only until she managed to escape.
That vow had lasted less than a day. The beating she had taken at her capture had been painful but now it was time for her training. Every sideways glance, everytime she muttered under her breath, every time she even held her head high or made eye contact, her mistress taught her better. She would twist her nipples, crush her midriff between her legs, stomp on her, punch her soft stomach, give her wedgies.
Her favorite punishment, however, was spanking. She would sit on her chair and order Kayla over. Kayla would have to miserably crawl over and lie down across her mistress' knees. Kayla would try to not cry out but every slap on her ass weakened her resolve until she found herself bawling. As much as it hurt, she cried as much for the humiliation of it. Here not long ago, she had been a popular, beautiful college student that made boys fawn over her, and other girls jealous. Now, here she was, chattel, another girl's slave, sobbing as her ass turned red from being spanked like a disobedient child.
In less than a day, all thought of escape or resistance had been beaten out of her. Now all she concerned herself with was obedience and pleasing her mistress. Pleasing her and pleasuring her.
That first day as a slave was the first time she had lay with another girl. After a particularly long spanking session, for some act of defiance or disobedience, she had ordered Kayla on her back. Kayla would always remember this moment as when she completely surrendered, body and mind, and admitted that she truly was a slave.
Her mistress had knelt down beside her and grabbed both her breasts. "See these? These are my boobs now. I own them. Whose boobs are these?"
"They're your boobs, mistress..." Kayla replied in the way she had been trained.
"And this cxnt. This is my cxnt now, isn't it slave?" She asked as she put her hand in between Kayla's legs.
"Yes, mistress. It's your cxnt now, mistress..." Kayla had had to reply, in between sobs.
"And that ass I just spanked. Who does that ass belong to?"
"It's your ass, mistress..."
She had leaned in, staring right above Kayla. "Who am I?" She asked softly.
"You're my mistress..." Kayla , whispered back, terrified.
"And who are you?" Kayla could feel her breath, their faces were so close.
"I'm...I'm your slave mistress..." she had responded, barely audible.
"That's right, bitch. You're my slave. I fucking own you." With one hand, she had started to fondle, Kayla's breast again. Only it wasn't Kayla's breast, it belonged to her mistress now. "You're my fucking property. And now you're going to see exactly what that means."
With that, she had stood up and took off all her own clothes. Kayla looked up in fear and disbelief as her mistress lowered herself on top of Kayla's face. "Now, eat me out like the pathetic, little slave you are."
I am a pathetic, little slave Kayla thought bitterly, remembering. Kayla hadn't even considered resisting. She closed her eyes and started licking her mistress. Then she felt a slap before being ordered to open her eyes.
Kayla had miserably looked up then. She could see the underside of her mistress' breasts and her face right above them. Her mistress stared down at her with a domineering smile that said
I own you. Eyes red from crying, her tongue unwillingly inside of another woman, everything about Kayla's face had said,
I am owned.
And from there, they moved on to other parts of her body. Kayla found herself licking her mistress' breasts, sucking on her erect nipples. She spent seemingly hours on her feet, moving her tongue from heel to her toes, sticking her tongue in between each and sucking each toe individually. She made Kayla lick the ridges of her hard stomach and lap at her belly button. She even seemed to get off at having her lick her armpits, giggling the whole time.
Kayla had stopped crying after awhile and wore the dutiful, submissive expression that she had come to know so well since. She couldn't have said how long she had spent servicing her mistress. It seemed endless, licking and sucking on seemingly every square inch of her body. Kayla had at this point given up any claim to self respect, pride, or dignity. Had she had any, she would have lost it when her mistress leaned on the wall and ordered her to tongue her asshole. Even after everything, this had still caught Kayla off guard and she felt fresh tears coming down her cheeks. Not even considering being disobedient, Kayla buried her face in between her mistress' cheeks and stuck out her tongue. Her mistress had alternated between gyrating her hips and standing still, letting Kayla push her tongue in as deep as it would go. This was the ultimate in subjugation and Kayla couldn't think of a more degrading act. But she did it anyway. She had been broken.
That day and night had been Kayla's first of many as a slave. She slept on the floor chained to her mistress' bed. In the morning, she would prepare her mistress' breakfast and wait on her to finish so she could eat the scraps off the floor. She would then comb her mistress' hair, do her nails, and anything else she was ordered to do. Even such mundane tasks like filing another girl's nails were perilous for Kayla, however. She knew that any mistake, no matter how slight, would be punished. She had once accidentally pulled on her mistress' hair while trying to untangle a knot. By the time her punishment was over, she couldn't sit for several days from the spanking she had received.
During the day, she was usually left alone while her mistress hunted for supplies. She was usually kept on a long leash chained to the wall, but even when she wasn't she was far too afraid to try to escape. Kayla would then attend to her own appearance. Her mistress was fanatical about cleanliness for her slave and demanded that Kayla be hairless everywhere except her head, eyebrows, and lashes. She would occasionally inspect Kayla to make sure she was compliant. The last time she found an errant pubic hair, she had painfully plucked it out and made Kayla eat it. Fortunately, that had left Kayla unable to sit for only a day.
Her mistress also demanded complete cleanliness in the house they occupied and the majority of Kayla's day when she was left alone was dedicated to maintaining that. She would spend hours on her hands and knees scrubbing at every nook and cranny and ensuring that the entire house was spotless. As tedious as it was, Kayla looked forward to it everyday as it was time spent away from
her. When she did return, Kayla was always filled with dread. She was first expected to greet her mistress by going to her hands and knees and kiss her legs and feet. After that, she would wait in nervous anticipation as her chores were inspected. Punishments would be meted out and Kayla would then wait to do whatever was commanded of her. More often than not, the night would end with Kayla's tongue inside the other girl.
If her mistress felt she had been a particularly good slave, she would occasionally get Kayla off by fingering her, a privilege completely forbidden to Kayla. Her mistress had made that clear to her on no uncertain terms. It was her mistress' cxnt now and Kayla wasn't allowed to touch it without permission.
Often when her tongue was in her mistress' pussy or ass, she would wonder what it would be like to be her, to exercise complete dominance and have another girl so completely under your control. Kayla hated what she had become but was desperate to please. Her mistress had conquered her and now exercised complete control over her life and her body. She couldn't even call them her life or her body anymore. Her mistress owned her completely and Kayla would wonder what that must be like.
This was the way of the world now. The strong conquer the weak. Her mistress was strong and Kayla was weak. As much as Kayla would have liked to consider herself strong, she knew it would be a lie. And here she found herself again, lying at her mistress' feet, her subservience ready to greet whoever her mistress had invited over.
The slave at the feet of her mistress
