Chapter 8: The Sweet Revenge

The next morning, as Samantha’s eyes flickered open, she found herself still trapped in the cold, steel embrace of the cage. But instead of the cruel gaze of her Mistress, she was met with the sneer of Derik, her handler. He unlocked the cage door, releasing her into his clutches. “Your Mistress is busy,” he sneered, “but don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.” His eyes glinted with a sadistic glee that sent shivers down her spine.

He shoved a crumpled piece of paper into her trembling hands. “These are your new marching orders,” he said, “straight from the boss herself.” Samantha took it, her eyes widening with each new line that she read. It was a list of rules, each one more degrading than the last. He pointed to the first one. “Read it out,” he demanded, his voice thick with excitement.

“I will call all superiors ‘Sir’ or ‘Madam’ and my owners ‘Master’ or ‘Mistress’, no matter where I am,” Samantha whispered, her voice shaking.

“Louder!” Derik barked; his eyes gleaming as he set up a camera to capture her humiliation.

“I will always obey my Master and Mistress, and if they tell me to, any other superior person!” she shouted, her cheeks burning.

He nodded, pleased, and pointed to the next one. “And this one?”

“I will never ... never ... have an orgasm without the permission of my owners,” she stumbled over the words, the very idea of her own pleasure being so thoroughly stripped away making her feel sick.

“Good girl,” Derik said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now, read the rest.”

One by one, she recited the rules that were to govern her life. No privacy in her most intimate moments. No dignity in how she dressed or moved. Her body, once her own, now just a plaything for their twisted games. The rules were explicit, R-Rated, and deeply dehumanizing.

1. Call all higher-ups ‘Sir’ or ‘Madam’ and owners ‘Master’ or ‘Mistress’.

2. Obey Master and Mistress without question, and anyone they tell you to obey.

3. No coming without owners’ say-so.

4. No peeing or shitting unless they allow it.

5. Eat only what they give you.

6. Wear tight, slutty clothes to show off your body.

7. Naked when you’re by yourself.

8. Crawl around like a dog in the house, unless told otherwise.

9. Backyard’s your bathroom now.

10. Every hole’s for their use.

These were just the basics, Derik assured her with a smirk. More would come as they saw fit. As she read, she felt her world shrink, her identity crumbling under the weight of their perverse whims. But she knew there was no escape, not from these chains or the deep, twisted desires they had for her.

Derik was elated by Samantha’s obedience; he yanked her on the leash into the backyard. There, a pit of his sadistic creation awaited her, designed for her to piss and shit in full view of the cameras he’d set up. The blush of embarrassment painted her face crimson, but she obeyed, squatting and releasing her bodily waste as instructed.

Upon finishing her degrading act, he lashed her leash to a sturdy pole. An enema kit stood tall beside them, a tool of his twisted games. “Time for an internal cleaning,” he announced, shoving the cold nozzle deep into her ass. The flow of fluid began, filling her up like a balloon ready to burst. He forced her to run laps, the water sloshing within her, before granting the mercy of evacuation. He repeated this cruel ritual thrice, ensuring her asshole was pristine.

The garden hose followed, a frigid torrent that made Samantha shriek as he blasted her with cold water to wash away the filth. Once she was dry, he allowed her into the house, where she prepared his meal. Like a dog, she ate her scraps from a bowl at his feet.

Before she could escape to her job, he had one more degradation in store. He presented a medium-sized butt plug, a symbol of her subjugation. She took it into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked it clean. Derik’s grin grew as he watched her get it wet with her spit. She then bent over, offering her gaping asshole to him. With a smack of his saliva, he pushed the plug in, feeling her tight hole fight back until it gave in with a pop.

Her face contorted with pain; she struggled to stand with the plug lodged deep inside. Dressed as a police officer, she waddled to the door, her ass full and her dignity shattered. The walk to the office would be agonizing, but she had no choice. She was his bitch now, and she knew it.

Samantha’s office drudgery was a stark contrast to her past, where she had relished in the sweet taste of power as she orchestrated her ex-lover’s destruction. Now, she couldn’t even piss without permission, a stark reminder of her newfound servitude.

Her owner’s command echoed in her mind, a cruel reminder that even basic bodily functions were now under their control. She’d beg, squirming in her seat, until they allowed her to relieve herself. The plug in her ass was a constant, unwelcome intrusion, a stark symbol of her degradation. Initially a source of pain, it grew to be a perverse source of pleasure, invading her with each subtle shift of her body.

Post-lunch, she stumbled into the bathroom, the plug still lodged firmly in her ass, and caught a glimpse of her reflection. Gone was the glamorous starlet; in her place, a mere object for sexual gratification, a tool to be used and discarded at their whims. The stark reality sent a thrill through her, making her cunt throb with need. “Whore!” she whispered to herself, a smirk playing on her lips. “No, I’m not just a whore. I’m a pathetic, submissive fucktoy.”

Her self-degradation grew as the plug continued its merciless dance within her, a silent testament to her utter lack of self-worth. Yet, she found a twisted satisfaction in her new role, her soul craving the very humiliation that had once repulsed her. She reveled in the pain, the pleasure, and the deep, unyielding need to serve her masters.

Few days had elapsed and she grew increasingly comfortable as Derik’s submissive slut at home, while maintaining her Police officer facade at work. Using her authority at the precinct, she had incarcerated more troublemakers, yet at home, she remained the one confined.

It was April 28th, her birthday, and she craved nothing more than to serve her master after a mundane shift. Upon returning, Derik presented a small box containing a new butt plug. She smiled, thanking him, feeling a sense of submission she had grown accustomed to.

Mustering courage, she gazed into his eyes, “Will you fuck me, Sir?” Her voice quivered with need, revealing the depth of her subjugation. Derik, thrilled by her utter breakdown, asked, “Where does my whore want it?”

“In my ass, Sir,” she replied, fully aware of his intentions.

“Good girl,” he said, “but today is special. We’re going to a pub first.”

He instructed her to wear the most scandalous outfit: a tight, semi-transparent tube top that barely concealed her breasts, a micro mini skirt that left nothing to the imagination, and towering 8” stilettos that would make walking a challenge.

Before they entered the car, Derik demanded she bend over. He inserted the new, large plug into her ass, securing it with a cruel twist, ensuring she felt every inch of her degradation.

“Are we forgetting something?” he sneered, his smile a twisted mockery of kindness, and Samantha’s stomach knotted in anticipation. “My clamps, sir,” she murmured, the words barely escaping her trembling lips, her voice a faint whisper of hope amidst the looming dread. “Ah, how astute of you to remember,” he purred, brandishing a clover clamp with a chain attached.