Chapter 14

Kevin led me into the room with a firm grip on the leash attached to my collar, his steps echoing through the dimly lit hallway of the pub. Madam Angel looked up from her desk, her eyes scanning over me before lighting up in a predatory smile. She was dressed in a tight, black leather corset that pushed her breasts up and out, leaving little to the imagination, and a short skirt that barely covered her thighs. Her makeup was impeccable, a stark contrast to the sweat and cum stains that adorned my naked body from my recent escapades with the Glory Hole Whore brigade.

“Kevin, it’s so good to see you back,” Madam Angel cooed, her voice as smooth as honey, yet as sharp as a knife. “And you’ve brought your little slut back to me,” she said without looking away from her paperwork, the sound of her voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I knew my place, kneeling at the side of my master, my head slightly bowed. The floor was cold against my knees, but I had grown accustomed to the discomfort. My training to become the ultimate bimbo had reached a point where I found solace in my submission.

As the siblings exchanged pleasantries, Madam Angel’s gaze fell upon me. “Samantha,” she said, her tone a mix of amusement and authority. “You’ve had your fun with the brigade, but now it’s time to service me.”

Without hesitation, I crawled under her desk, my nose level with her bare pussy. The scent of her arousal was intoxicating, and I eagerly began to lick her, the taste of her juices making my own sex throb with need. Each stroke of my tongue brought her closer to climax, and when she finally came, her fluids painted my face. I lapped them up greedily, savoring the flavor of her dominance.

“Good girl,” Madam Angel murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction. She petted my hair, and I felt a strange sense of pride swell in my chest.

“How’s her progress?” Kevin inquired; his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“She’s coming along nicely,” Madam Angel said, her eyes never leaving me. “Such a quick learner.”

My heart raced as she praised me, the pleasure of their approval more potent than any orgasm.

“Before we go,” Kevin said, his voice a low growl, “I want to make sure she has her proper identification.”

Madam Angel opened a desk drawer and pulled out an ID card, holding it up between her manicured fingers. “This should do the trick,” she said with a wink.

The card was a stark white rectangle, the top emblazoned with the words “Angel’s Glory Hole” in shiny, gold letters. The sight of it made bile rise in my throat. This was not just an ID card; it was a declaration of my new life, a badge of shame and service.

The photo on the card was explicit, to say the least. It was a full-body shot; my nakedness laid bare for all to see. The cum that had been smeared across my face during my earlier escapades was prominent, and my QOS tattoo was visible t. The picture was a testament to my degradation, a visual representation of the slut they had turned me into.

On the back of the card was even more mortifying information. It listed my birthdate, my phone number, and an emergency contact number, presumably for when I was too used up to speak for myself. There were two more full-body images, one showing my front, the other my back, both as explicit as the one on the front. My entire being was laid out for anyone with a smartphone to see, a QR code taunting me with the promise of even more humiliating details online.

Kevin took the card from Madam Angel and clipped it to the D ring on my collar, the metal pressing into my skin. “Do you like it, slut?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement.

“Thank you, Sir,” I replied meekly, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. The thrill of their degradation was a strange mix of pain and pleasure.

“Remember,” Madam Angel said, her smile wicked, “that QR code will take you to our pub’s website, where we will be updating your profile with all your ... achievements. You can check it out when you get home.”

“Thank you, Madam,” I murmured, my voice submissive. The idea of my new life being on display for all to see was both terrifying and exhilarating.

As they talked, I remained in my place, kneeling and waiting for further instructions. My mind raced with thoughts of what else they had in store for me, my body already anticipating the pain and pleasure that would come from serving them.

The ID card dangling from my neck was a stark symbol of my degradation, a blatant declaration of my status as their whore. Yet, amidst the throes of humiliation, I felt a twisted comfort in my subservience. It was as if I had been crafted solely for their depravity, my very essence designed to be used and abused by them.

Master Kevin rose to his feet, embracing his sister with a warmth that was starkly contrasted by the cold steel of the collar around my neck. He gripped the leash attached to my collar and I obeyed without hesitation, dropping to all fours to crawl after him. The bells affixed to the chains hanging from my anal plug and ben-wa-balls jingled with each movement, a sonorous reminder of my complete and utter submission to their will.

Our path led us through the dimly lit corridor where the other members of the Glory Hole Whore brigade had gathered in small clusters, engaged in hushed conversations. Their eyes lit up with a mix of excitement and malicious glee as they spotted me. Only hours prior, these same individuals had subjected me to a barrage of degradation, forcing me to pleasure them with my mouth and tongue in the most intimate and degrading of ways. As I slithered past them on the cold floor, my face flushed with a mix of arousal and embarrassment, their cruel whispers and taunts echoing in my ears.

Finally, we approached the back exit, where the bouncer who had so easily allowed my descent into this twisted world still held his post. His eyes widened as he took in the spectacle before him: my naked, trembling form, adorned with bells, crawling obediently behind my master. He couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of the proud woman who had entered earlier now reduced to this pathetic state.

Master Kevin brought me to a halt before the bouncer, his hand resting possessively on the back of my neck. “You know what to do,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction.

I looked up at the towering figure of the bouncer, my eyes pleading for his mercy. “May this slut serve you, sir?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The words sent a shiver down my spine, a potent cocktail of fear and desire.

The bouncer’s expression shifted from amusement to excitement as he nodded. “I would never say no,” he replied, his voice gruff with lust.

With trembling hands, I reached for the bouncer’s pants, pulling them down to reveal his thick, hard member. I leaned in eagerly, taking him into my mouth, my tongue swirling around his shaft as he groaned in pleasure. The taste of his arousal was potent, a reminder of the power he held over me in this moment.

As he approached climax, I felt his grip on my hair tighten, the pain sending a jolt of pleasure through my body. His cock pulsed, and he released his seed into my waiting mouth. I did my best to swallow it all, my cheeks bulging with the effort, but some inevitably escaped, trailing down my chin like a perverse necklace.

With a final, lingering kiss to the tip of his cock, I pulled back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Thank you, sir,” I murmured, feeling the warmth of his cum on my face.

Master Kevin approached, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in the sight of me kneeling before the bouncer. He opened the trunk of the car, revealing a small, cramped cage. “Get in,” he ordered, his tone devoid of any warmth or compassion.

I crawled into the confined space, the bars of the cage digging into my skin as I attempted to find a comfortable position. There was none to be had. With a click, the door was locked, sealing me in darkness. The car ride to my home—our home, though it was clear that it now belonged to them—was an agonizing eternity. My thoughts were consumed by the anticipation of seeing Mistress Nina again. It had been far too long since she had last used me, my body craving the exquisite pain and pleasure she so expertly delivered.

The engine’s purr grew quieter as the car came to a stop, and I heard the crunch of gravel beneath the tires. The trunk popped open, and the cool night air hit me as I emerged from my metal prison.

On shaky legs, I crawled out of the trunk, the bells chiming a mournful tune of submission. I was then led to the house, made to wait outside like a dog as Master Kevin disappeared inside.

The anticipation grew stronger with each passing second, my body yearning for the sweet torment that only Mistress Nina could provide. As the door opened and I was beckoned inside, I felt a thrill of excitement, mixed with a hint of trepidation. I knew that whatever awaited me within those walls would be both agonizingly painful and deliciously erotic, a dance of dominance and submission that I had come to crave more than anything else in the world.

With a tremble in my step and a burning desire to serve, I made my way into the living room. Mistress Nina’s dark, alluring presence filled the space as she lounged on the plush couch. Her velvety black feet, perched delicately on the coffee table, beckoned me closer. The sight of them, adorned with pastel white nail polish that starkly contrasted with the deep richness of her skin, made my mouth water. Master Kevin, her devoted partner in depravity, took his position beside her, a smirk playing upon his lips as he watched my approach.

Assuming the pose that had been drilled into me, I spread my legs as wide as they would go, exposing my soaking wet pussy to the cool air. My hands clasped tightly behind my head, elbows jutting out to the sides, and my breasts thrust forward like an offering to the gods of humiliation. My entire body quivered with anticipation, each muscle straining to be worthy of their attention.

Mistress Nina’s gaze swept over me, a smile of pure satisfaction lighting up her features as she took in the sight of my desperate obedience. I felt a warm rush of pride as she nodded her head, a silent command that I knew all too well. Like a well-trained bitch, I wiggled my way across the floor, my knees scraping against the unforgiving surface. Each movement brought a new wave of pain, but it was nothing compared to the agonizing pleasure that awaited me at her feet.

Finally, I reached her, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I pressed my face against the warm, soft flesh of her toes. They smelled faintly of jasmine and the scent of my own arousal, a potent mix that made my head swim. I took one of her toes into my mouth, sucking it greedily as if it were the most delicious treat I had ever tasted. Her skin was like silk against my tongue and I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through me as I worshiped her in this degrading manner.

As the video began to play, I was transported back to that fateful night at the party. The sounds of my own whimpers and gasps filled the room, a stark reminder of the humiliations I had endured. Yet, instead of pain, I felt a strange sense of belonging, a warmth that spread through my body and settled in the pit of my stomach. This was who I was now, a creature that lived to be used and degraded.

The scenes from the pub played out on the screen, a montage of my most painful and degrading moments. The glory hole session, where I had been nothing more than a hole for the use of any man who cared to stick his cock through, was particularly humiliating. My cheeks burned with a mix of shame and excitement as I remembered the way the anonymous cocks had filled me, stretching me beyond what I thought possible. Yet, even in the throes of my degradation, I had found a twisted joy in serving them.

The video’s end signaled my return to reality, and I scurried back to the position of a good little slut, eager for whatever came next. My Mistress and Master exchanged a knowing look, and I could feel their power radiating off them in waves. They owned me, body and soul, and I would do anything to keep their favor.

“Back in position,” Mistress Nina’s voice was a whip crack in the silence, and I eagerly complied, my body a canvas for their twisted art. My pussy ached with need, begging for the painful release that I knew was to come. I waited, my breath shallow and quick, as they decided my fate for the evening. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, but I knew that the pain and humiliation that awaited me would be a sweet balm to my tortured soul.

The cold, emotionless tone of Mistress Nina’s voice sent shivers down my spine as she spoke, “You’ve served well as a slut these past few days, but mistakes demand retribution.” I knew there was no point in arguing or pleading; resistance was futile against my owners.

“Yes Mistress,” I whispered, my voice quivering with dread. I had come to accept the reality of my existence—a mere plaything for their sadistic whims.

“What do you think should happen to a disobedient slut?” she asked, her question echoing in the stark silence of the room.

“They should be punished, Mistress,” I replied, my voice a mere echo of its former self.

Master Kevin, took over the conversation, his voice a blend of amusement and authority, “So, you agree you should be punished, Samantha?”

“Yes Master,” I affirmed, feeling the fear coil tightly in my stomach.

He gestured to a side table with a box, “Crawl over there and get the box for me.”

On all fours, I obeyed, my heart racing. The box was a symbol of their control over me, filled with instruments of pain and humiliation. I placed it on the tea table, revealing its contents: a bonded sheet with columns of degrading punishments, and three dice, each a different color.

Master Kevin explained the rules of their twisted game, “The sheet holds your fate, with three columns detailing where you’ll be punished, who’ll do the honors, and where it will happen.”

Mistress Nina picked up the narrative, her eyes gleaming with delight, “The dice are color-coded to match the columns. Roll them, and we’ll see what your pathetic bimbo brain can’t even calculate—your punishment.”

With trembling hands, I picked up the dice, feeling a strange mix of fear and arousal. I rolled the first one, a pink one for the body part. It landed on a 2—my breasts. My heart skipped a beat as panic set in. The blue die for the punisher was next; it showed a 6—a stranger. They chuckled at my fear. The red die, which determined the number of hits, came to a rest on 1.

“It seems you’re going to be punished in the entry foyer,” Mistress Nina announced, her smile wicked. “And the weapon of choice is the cane, 12 hits total, 6 for each of your pitiful tits.”

The mere thought of a stranger’s hands on me, delivering pain to my sensitive flesh, was almost too much to bear. But before I could fully process this horror, the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the pizza delivery boy—my appointed tormentor.

Mistress Nina’s eyes sparkled with glee, “Looks like your punisher has arrived. How convenient.”

My cheeks flushed with humiliation, knowing I was about to be punished in such a public, degrading manner. The thought of a stranger, a young, fit boy, laying eyes on my naked, trembling body filled me with dread. Yet, there was an undeniable thrill in knowing that my suffering would bring them pleasure.

Master Kevin opened the door, and the delivery boy’s eyes grew wide when he saw the scene before him. “Your payment is already inside, young man,” he said, gesturing towards me. “You’ve been selected to help us with a little game.”