I think I have been objectified for too long...and thusly...rendered inanimate.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Come here slut!”
“My name is….SMACK!”
The back of his hand drove the soft flesh of her mouth into the sharp edges of her teeth and drew blood, again. How did he do that without ever leaving a bruise? Fuck, it hurt. She caressed her cheek and swallowed away the copper taste and gathered her composure.
“Yes Sir.”
His play was rough, it always was, but under his hand, with his pain, she came, and came again, so the sting in her cheek faded and was replaced by the warm glow of servitude, security, and ownership. Exhausted, dripping, tossed in the corner, limbs akimbo, she heard the apartment door close behind him as she fell asleep, wondering if she should get the cut in her mouth looked at in the morning. The factory nurse could look at it and be discrete, without asking too many questions.
Her morning e-mail was waiting for her when she awoke and she dressed accordingly. The corset cinched a notch too tight, her heels an inch too tall, especially for work, but he liked toying with her, and she didn’t mind, really.
Ba-dip! Her phone chimed from inside her purse and she glanced at the floor manager sitting across the desk from her. She knew she had only 5 minutes to respond to the text, and Franklin never talked for less than 20, and he had just barely sat down with his latest complaint about his union rep. She listened with only half her brain as her tongue ran over the strange scar at had formed overnight where she cut her cheek. It felt hard and smooth, and she definitely thought about calling for an appointment.
“Franklin,” she interrupted, feeling the tick-tock of the 5-minute countdown growing louder in her head, “I know Janice drives you crazy, but I have to tell you that we have our monthly meeting with the union next Tuesday. Can this wait until then?”
“Well, the crap they are pulling is bullshit and now it’s a safety issue and….”
The clock in her head stood at 1:10 and counting down. “Franklin. Put you notes together and be ready for Tuesday, we’ll work it out, but right now I have to use the bathroom and you’ve got window frames to finish.”
He stood and shook her hand, :58, :57, :56…..she reached in to her purse for her phone. “Really Franklin, you have to go ‘cause I have to go.” :48, :47, :46….
She kept a hold of his hand and walked out in to the hallway with him to get him moving. Once he was on his way, she scurried around the corner and slipped in to the private, handicapped bathroom and flipped open her phone.
“Left nipple, HARD. I must see the mark.”
With only seconds left she pulled up her blouse and bra in a single motion and crushed her already tender nipple between the thumb and 1st finger joint of her right hand. Aaaiiigh. A tear came to her eye and she felt it run down her cheek. While the nub was still purple she snapped a picture and sent it with just seconds to spare.
“Oh shit.” She looked at her phone with frustration. His text arrived at 9:57, her outgoing text said 10:03. She was late. DAMN YOU Franklin.
Knowing what was inevitable; she switched the camera to other hand and inflicted her punishment, snapped a picture, and waited. While she waited she washed her face and waited more, absent-mindedly soothing the hardening flesh through the fabric of her thin bra and soft cotton blouse. They felt harder than usual, but at least the sensation was dying down.
Her phone vibrated in her hand and she took a shaky deep breath and looked down.
“What are you?”
“A slut” she wrote back
“What?”
“Your slut.”
“That’s right Doll.” The small electronic words cut deep but she hoped for three more. It buzzed again. “You may cum.” Those weren’t the three words she was hoping for.
Her orgasm hit her hard and fast and she gasped and smiled and enjoyed the cool bathroom tile against her back.
When she got back to her desk she felt dizzy with pleasure, so much so that her fingers were still clumsy as she dialed Janice’s number. They made a quite tapping sound on the keys and she thought that it was probably time for a manicure.
Janice was fine after a long talk about the union’s typical beefs, but even with that fire put out and an e-mail sent to Franklin, she didn’t feel any better. In fact, she felt disjointed and decided to visit the nurse. She got to the on-site clinic, signed-in, and waited. She did a lot of that lately. Waited for instructions, for praise, for pleasure, for permission. She was good at it now.
Ba-Dip.
“Take them off.”
Shit. She wasn’t expecting the nurse to be that thorough for a general visit and a strange mouth canker, but she’d rather have kept her panties on for the exam. She asked the desk clerk for the key and he said that it was missing, but that he’d keep an eye on the door for her. She hesitated, but the next nearest bathroom as upstairs and across the storage room and she didn’t want to miss her name if they called her in.
OK, thanks, she said, and she walked past his messy desk and felt his eyes on her ass.
She rounded the corner and stopped through, closing the door behind her and lifted her skirt when she heard the door open.
“I’m IN HERE!” She called out.
“I know.” It was the desk clerk at his leering worst.
“WTF? Get out! “
“Check your e-mail.”
“Oh FUCK, what game was he playing? How had he gotten the timing so right?” The words of the text sizzled in her head, “He has permission to touch you. – Master”
She fought back the shame and turned herself to the mirror and then closed her eyes. His clammy hands were shaking and she just knew he was hard under his hospital issued scrubs. She hoped that he lost control and soiled the light blue fabric, so she spread her legs a little further than necessary.
He pulled her panties down to the floor and then stood too close behind and she smelled the tobacco and cheap beer on his breath. She shuddered and closed her eyes tightly as his hand slowly moved between her thighs. She pressed back in to him, calling his bluff, but instead of pulling back, he cupped her pussy lips and tried to slip a finger inside. She retched and arched her back and pressed harder into his hands, ashamed of the wetness he found. With his first touch, he gasped, came, and cried out in shock. Suddenly, his shame took over and he ran from the small bathroom, the obvious wet spot spreading down his upper thigh.
Ba-dip.
“Did he?”
“Yes”, she tapped back.
“Good little slut. I like sharing you with others.” He texted back quickly as she washed herself as best as she could with the rough paper towels, her skin feeling strange under her own touch.
She straightened her dress and walked out and saw that his desk was empty. She smiled at his ultimate humiliation.
The nurse called her in and began the examination with the usual routine, commenting that her blood pressure was low and that she felt cool to the touch. Her temperature was down a couple of degrees as well. “Odd,” the nurse said, “but not worrisome by itself.”
The nurse looked in her mouth and commented that the scar tissue was oddly smooth and asked how it happened. She lied about playing volleyball at a church social and getting hit which didn’t fool anyone.
“I want to do a full exam,” the pretty nurse said, “It’s for your own good.”
I don’t think that’s necessary. She protested.
“But I do. Take off your blouse and your corset.”
“Why didn’t anyone listen to her anymore?” She undressed and noted the delicate click of her fingertips on the vintage bone buttons. They sounded girlish.
She slipped off her blouse noting where the corset left marks in her skin. The exam began. The nurse looked over her skin, her throat, neck, chest, and breasts, spending an inordinate amount of time on her nipples, and then looked at her back.
“When did your skin start to change?” the Nurse asked.
“I don’t know what you mean.” She replied with a sigh. Fearful of what came next.
“It’s very smooth, and not in the right way, your pores are missing. And the scar tissue in your mouth is unusual. It’s worth keeping an eye on.”
She tried to say something but was ignored as the nurse stood and pulled out the metal stands.
“Into the stirrups please.”
“What? Really?”
“Yes, and besides, I’m the nurse, your just a collection of parts to me, it’s not like I’m getting off looking at your hoo-haw.”
They looked at each other and she knew that the words were complete and total lies.
She laid back, spread her legs, and put her hoo-haw on display.
“W…T….F….?” the nurse whispered.
What’s wrong? She could feel the nurse touching her lips, pressing, caressing, but there was little sensation besides pressure.
A speculum appeared from the drawer below the table and she felt it slide in with much difficulty. The nurse continued to make odd noises of surprise, until she pulled herself up from between the open knees, and stated that it was beyond her role as plant nurse and said that she should see a specialist.
“WHAT’S WRONG?” She demanded, now nervous and on the edge of scared.
“I have no idea,” the nurse said, “it appears that your vaginal lips have merged together, simplified themselves. You wax regularly, right?”
“Well, yes, but not for a week or two.”
“You are perfectly smooth down there, perfectly smooth.”
“I said I wax. “
“No, it’s perfectly smooth, not a follicle, razor bump, or ingrown hair.” The nurse shivered and stood up. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Well, you were just…..”
“Don’t be upset, but while I was doing the exam I was touching your clit and you didn’t react at all.”
“oh”
“I want you to go see Dr. Andrews tomorrow.”
“But Andrews is a head-shrinker.”
“I know.” She turned to leave, “By the way, how does your boyfriend treat you?”
A frown crossed her face but then she smiled, “Oh, I’m his baby doll.”
“Really?” And she left.
The drive home was quiet as she worried. He called out to her as the garage door closed behind her.
“KNEEL!”
“Oh fuck”, he was in one of his moods.
She stepped out of her shoes and prepared herself.
When he was done with her she asked permission to shower and fix dinner. He granted her request.
The hot water stung at first but then she adjusted and it faded to the background. As she washed, her anus stung under her soapy hand, but then, that pain faded too and she smiled at the smooth firm skin of her ass. She spread and soothed the soft lips of her vagina and yes, it was perfectly smooth, but so abused at the moment that she could barely feel them. There had been so many sore spots these past months, hand shaped bruises, pinches, slaps, punishments and rewards, some were on her skin, others on her heart. But each one was soothed under her soapy hands, but tonight she distant from herself.
Her nipples had stayed un-naturally hard and her skin felt strange under her hand, and when she went deep between her thighs she felt tight and resistant, a reaction to his pounding, she supposed, so she let it go, barely admitting to herself that she hadn’t cum once during his session.
“What are you?” He called out his question from the living room, not even bothering to get off the couch.
“A slut,” she shouted back, then corrected herself quickly, “your slut.”
“What are you to me?”
“Your toy.”
“Who owns you?”
“You do. Do with me what you will.” And he did, night after night.
It was well rehearsed ritual. She dried, then dropped her towel and stepped into the living room and posed before him.
“Permission to go to bed Sir?”
“Granted.” He said as she bent forward, barely registering as he kissed her on the head, “Do something about your hair, it feels strange.”
“Yes sir.”
She looked at herself in the full-length mirror before turning off the lights. Smooth skin, perfectly firm breasts, rigid nipples, a hairless cunt, a smiling mouth, flawless hair, all shaped for his use. Months in the making, she began to realize she had become just what he always wanted.
She laid in bed, barely feeling the silk on her skin. Unable to sleep, not wanting sleep, she pulled her laptop over and brought up her on-line profile. It was time to change her alias to something more fitting her role; something that reflected just what she had become.
“Barbie3634 your changes have been saved. Will this change be permanent?”
She wept, and clicked “YES”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“My name is….SMACK!”
The back of his hand drove the soft flesh of her mouth into the sharp edges of her teeth and drew blood, again. How did he do that without ever leaving a bruise? Fuck, it hurt. She caressed her cheek and swallowed away the copper taste and gathered her composure.
“Yes Sir.”
His play was rough, it always was, but under his hand, with his pain, she came, and came again, so the sting in her cheek faded and was replaced by the warm glow of servitude, security, and ownership. Exhausted, dripping, tossed in the corner, limbs akimbo, she heard the apartment door close behind him as she fell asleep, wondering if she should get the cut in her mouth looked at in the morning. The factory nurse could look at it and be discrete, without asking too many questions.
Her morning e-mail was waiting for her when she awoke and she dressed accordingly. The corset cinched a notch too tight, her heels an inch too tall, especially for work, but he liked toying with her, and she didn’t mind, really.
Ba-dip! Her phone chimed from inside her purse and she glanced at the floor manager sitting across the desk from her. She knew she had only 5 minutes to respond to the text, and Franklin never talked for less than 20, and he had just barely sat down with his latest complaint about his union rep. She listened with only half her brain as her tongue ran over the strange scar at had formed overnight where she cut her cheek. It felt hard and smooth, and she definitely thought about calling for an appointment.
“Franklin,” she interrupted, feeling the tick-tock of the 5-minute countdown growing louder in her head, “I know Janice drives you crazy, but I have to tell you that we have our monthly meeting with the union next Tuesday. Can this wait until then?”
“Well, the crap they are pulling is bullshit and now it’s a safety issue and….”
The clock in her head stood at 1:10 and counting down. “Franklin. Put you notes together and be ready for Tuesday, we’ll work it out, but right now I have to use the bathroom and you’ve got window frames to finish.”
He stood and shook her hand, :58, :57, :56…..she reached in to her purse for her phone. “Really Franklin, you have to go ‘cause I have to go.” :48, :47, :46….
She kept a hold of his hand and walked out in to the hallway with him to get him moving. Once he was on his way, she scurried around the corner and slipped in to the private, handicapped bathroom and flipped open her phone.
“Left nipple, HARD. I must see the mark.”
With only seconds left she pulled up her blouse and bra in a single motion and crushed her already tender nipple between the thumb and 1st finger joint of her right hand. Aaaiiigh. A tear came to her eye and she felt it run down her cheek. While the nub was still purple she snapped a picture and sent it with just seconds to spare.
“Oh shit.” She looked at her phone with frustration. His text arrived at 9:57, her outgoing text said 10:03. She was late. DAMN YOU Franklin.
Knowing what was inevitable; she switched the camera to other hand and inflicted her punishment, snapped a picture, and waited. While she waited she washed her face and waited more, absent-mindedly soothing the hardening flesh through the fabric of her thin bra and soft cotton blouse. They felt harder than usual, but at least the sensation was dying down.
Her phone vibrated in her hand and she took a shaky deep breath and looked down.
“What are you?”
“A slut” she wrote back
“What?”
“Your slut.”
“That’s right Doll.” The small electronic words cut deep but she hoped for three more. It buzzed again. “You may cum.” Those weren’t the three words she was hoping for.
Her orgasm hit her hard and fast and she gasped and smiled and enjoyed the cool bathroom tile against her back.
When she got back to her desk she felt dizzy with pleasure, so much so that her fingers were still clumsy as she dialed Janice’s number. They made a quite tapping sound on the keys and she thought that it was probably time for a manicure.
Janice was fine after a long talk about the union’s typical beefs, but even with that fire put out and an e-mail sent to Franklin, she didn’t feel any better. In fact, she felt disjointed and decided to visit the nurse. She got to the on-site clinic, signed-in, and waited. She did a lot of that lately. Waited for instructions, for praise, for pleasure, for permission. She was good at it now.
Ba-Dip.
“Take them off.”
Shit. She wasn’t expecting the nurse to be that thorough for a general visit and a strange mouth canker, but she’d rather have kept her panties on for the exam. She asked the desk clerk for the key and he said that it was missing, but that he’d keep an eye on the door for her. She hesitated, but the next nearest bathroom as upstairs and across the storage room and she didn’t want to miss her name if they called her in.
OK, thanks, she said, and she walked past his messy desk and felt his eyes on her ass.
She rounded the corner and stopped through, closing the door behind her and lifted her skirt when she heard the door open.
“I’m IN HERE!” She called out.
“I know.” It was the desk clerk at his leering worst.
“WTF? Get out! “
“Check your e-mail.”
“Oh FUCK, what game was he playing? How had he gotten the timing so right?” The words of the text sizzled in her head, “He has permission to touch you. – Master”
She fought back the shame and turned herself to the mirror and then closed her eyes. His clammy hands were shaking and she just knew he was hard under his hospital issued scrubs. She hoped that he lost control and soiled the light blue fabric, so she spread her legs a little further than necessary.
He pulled her panties down to the floor and then stood too close behind and she smelled the tobacco and cheap beer on his breath. She shuddered and closed her eyes tightly as his hand slowly moved between her thighs. She pressed back in to him, calling his bluff, but instead of pulling back, he cupped her pussy lips and tried to slip a finger inside. She retched and arched her back and pressed harder into his hands, ashamed of the wetness he found. With his first touch, he gasped, came, and cried out in shock. Suddenly, his shame took over and he ran from the small bathroom, the obvious wet spot spreading down his upper thigh.
Ba-dip.
“Did he?”
“Yes”, she tapped back.
“Good little slut. I like sharing you with others.” He texted back quickly as she washed herself as best as she could with the rough paper towels, her skin feeling strange under her own touch.
She straightened her dress and walked out and saw that his desk was empty. She smiled at his ultimate humiliation.
The nurse called her in and began the examination with the usual routine, commenting that her blood pressure was low and that she felt cool to the touch. Her temperature was down a couple of degrees as well. “Odd,” the nurse said, “but not worrisome by itself.”
The nurse looked in her mouth and commented that the scar tissue was oddly smooth and asked how it happened. She lied about playing volleyball at a church social and getting hit which didn’t fool anyone.
“I want to do a full exam,” the pretty nurse said, “It’s for your own good.”
I don’t think that’s necessary. She protested.
“But I do. Take off your blouse and your corset.”
“Why didn’t anyone listen to her anymore?” She undressed and noted the delicate click of her fingertips on the vintage bone buttons. They sounded girlish.
She slipped off her blouse noting where the corset left marks in her skin. The exam began. The nurse looked over her skin, her throat, neck, chest, and breasts, spending an inordinate amount of time on her nipples, and then looked at her back.
“When did your skin start to change?” the Nurse asked.
“I don’t know what you mean.” She replied with a sigh. Fearful of what came next.
“It’s very smooth, and not in the right way, your pores are missing. And the scar tissue in your mouth is unusual. It’s worth keeping an eye on.”
She tried to say something but was ignored as the nurse stood and pulled out the metal stands.
“Into the stirrups please.”
“What? Really?”
“Yes, and besides, I’m the nurse, your just a collection of parts to me, it’s not like I’m getting off looking at your hoo-haw.”
They looked at each other and she knew that the words were complete and total lies.
She laid back, spread her legs, and put her hoo-haw on display.
“W…T….F….?” the nurse whispered.
What’s wrong? She could feel the nurse touching her lips, pressing, caressing, but there was little sensation besides pressure.
A speculum appeared from the drawer below the table and she felt it slide in with much difficulty. The nurse continued to make odd noises of surprise, until she pulled herself up from between the open knees, and stated that it was beyond her role as plant nurse and said that she should see a specialist.
“WHAT’S WRONG?” She demanded, now nervous and on the edge of scared.
“I have no idea,” the nurse said, “it appears that your vaginal lips have merged together, simplified themselves. You wax regularly, right?”
“Well, yes, but not for a week or two.”
“You are perfectly smooth down there, perfectly smooth.”
“I said I wax. “
“No, it’s perfectly smooth, not a follicle, razor bump, or ingrown hair.” The nurse shivered and stood up. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Well, you were just…..”
“Don’t be upset, but while I was doing the exam I was touching your clit and you didn’t react at all.”
“oh”
“I want you to go see Dr. Andrews tomorrow.”
“But Andrews is a head-shrinker.”
“I know.” She turned to leave, “By the way, how does your boyfriend treat you?”
A frown crossed her face but then she smiled, “Oh, I’m his baby doll.”
“Really?” And she left.
The drive home was quiet as she worried. He called out to her as the garage door closed behind her.
“KNEEL!”
“Oh fuck”, he was in one of his moods.
She stepped out of her shoes and prepared herself.
When he was done with her she asked permission to shower and fix dinner. He granted her request.
The hot water stung at first but then she adjusted and it faded to the background. As she washed, her anus stung under her soapy hand, but then, that pain faded too and she smiled at the smooth firm skin of her ass. She spread and soothed the soft lips of her vagina and yes, it was perfectly smooth, but so abused at the moment that she could barely feel them. There had been so many sore spots these past months, hand shaped bruises, pinches, slaps, punishments and rewards, some were on her skin, others on her heart. But each one was soothed under her soapy hands, but tonight she distant from herself.
Her nipples had stayed un-naturally hard and her skin felt strange under her hand, and when she went deep between her thighs she felt tight and resistant, a reaction to his pounding, she supposed, so she let it go, barely admitting to herself that she hadn’t cum once during his session.
“What are you?” He called out his question from the living room, not even bothering to get off the couch.
“A slut,” she shouted back, then corrected herself quickly, “your slut.”
“What are you to me?”
“Your toy.”
“Who owns you?”
“You do. Do with me what you will.” And he did, night after night.
It was well rehearsed ritual. She dried, then dropped her towel and stepped into the living room and posed before him.
“Permission to go to bed Sir?”
“Granted.” He said as she bent forward, barely registering as he kissed her on the head, “Do something about your hair, it feels strange.”
“Yes sir.”
She looked at herself in the full-length mirror before turning off the lights. Smooth skin, perfectly firm breasts, rigid nipples, a hairless cunt, a smiling mouth, flawless hair, all shaped for his use. Months in the making, she began to realize she had become just what he always wanted.
She laid in bed, barely feeling the silk on her skin. Unable to sleep, not wanting sleep, she pulled her laptop over and brought up her on-line profile. It was time to change her alias to something more fitting her role; something that reflected just what she had become.
“Barbie3634 your changes have been saved. Will this change be permanent?”
She wept, and clicked “YES”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A longer piece, written for a woman who went beyond "friend" almost the minute we met. A friend I worry about, care for, fret over, and contemplate on a regular basis.
This is for her, inspired by her, and I hope, worthy of her.
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