Mean Girls Rule! Pt. 01

They had started with three narrow gauge rings on each side in the inner labia. If you are looking to use the rings as anchors, you use the thicker outer labia. If your are going for stretching and body modification, you use the thinner and more pliable inner labia. Rebecca was interested in changing the appearance of the slave's vagina, so she had the rings placed on the inner labia.

The slave still carried scars from the belting her husband had given her when she returned home with her new adornments. He had been furious. She was being irresponsible he had said. What if one of the kids saw her naked while she was changing? Was she going crazy?

The slave had quickly calmed her husband down. A good blowjob will do that to a man, but he had still whipped her for it.

Now, he barely noticed the tattoo or the piercings. In fact he barely seemed to notice his wife at all anymore. He had become increasingly remote and distant. He rarely touched her when they were alone together. She knew he had begun sleeping with another woman, of course. The slave didn't mind. She even openly encouraged it. She knew she wasn't good enough for him anymore. Why not let him seek his pleasure wherever he could find it?

Every few weeks, the doctor went back to the piercing parlor to be fitted with successively larger rings. Fat Tony always greeted her with a smile. The doctor always paid with a blow job in addition to the usual fee. The goal was to eventually graduate up to the thickest gauge of 00000ga which was just about a half an inch in diameter.

Once in, the rings were never removed. Their permanent weight had a predictable effect on the anatomy of the the slave's external genitalia.

Rebecca reached out and pinched the doctor's drooping inner labia between her thumb and forefinger.

"Getting nice and stretched out, aren't you, you old slut. You must be dangling three inches with that heavy lock on," she said clinically.

The slave said nothing.

"You still doing your stretching exercises every day? Dangling like I taught you?" asked the pretty young mistress.

"Yes, Miss Rebecca. One hour a day. With the fishing weights. I keep them in my night stand," answered the slave softly, her voice barely a whisper.

Rebecca, pulled firmly down on the lock. The inner labia stretched downward like soft taffy, a full six inches. The slave winced, but did not move a muscle.

"Good, I want to see these dangling down like flapjacks, halfway down your thighs. Got it?" said Rebecca savagely.

She gave the lock a final pull, then released it like a slingshot, watching it bounce up and down crazily for a few seconds before settling back into a lazy arc between the slave's legs.

"As you wish, Miss Rebecca," croaked the slave, choking back a sob.

Rebecca leaned forward and whispered in the slaves ear. Her eyes were twin slits.

"Because I'm going to ruin you down there for your husband forever," she hissed. "That's the point, don't you see? This pussy is not for fucking anymore. I forbid it. I'm going to make this pussy so ugly that nobody will ever want to fuck it again, even after I get tired of you and throw you away."

The slave looked down at the floor and tried not to cry.

"That's going to happen soon, you know," added Rebecca casually. "I'm already getting tired of your freak show pussy and floppy tits. It won't be long until I move on."

The young mistress let go of the leash and began circling the hapless slave.

"In fact, I'm going to make you seduce your own replacement," she said matter-of-factly. "Maybe have you ensnare one of your young, impressionable medical students for me. Maybe I'll give you to her as a gift."

The slave choked back another sob.

"As you wish, Miss Rebecca."

"Or maybe I'll give you to one of the cleaning ladies at the hospital. I've noticed that a certain heavy-set African American woman has been eying you fondly from afar. What would you think of that?"

Tears began to form in the corner of the slaves eyes.

"As you wish, Miss Rebecca," she croaked.

The slave knew Rebecca wasn't bluffing. She reveled in the knowledge that she would eventually be thrown away like a broken doll. The fact that the girl's ownership was only transient made the permanence of the tattoo and body modifications all the more delicious.

The slave was secretly thrilled at how her pussy was changing day by day. She didn't care that her husband was revolted by her appearance. She wore the rings like badges of honor. This was the sweetest debasement she had ever borne. She didn't tell Rebecca, but she often wore the lead weights all day when she was home. She enjoyed feeling them tug and swing beneath her dress as she prepared lunch for the kids or spoke with her husband on the phone.

The fact that the physical changes would remain years after the girl had gone made the transformation even more meaningful. Years from now, all Victoria had to do was look between her legs at the loosely twisted flesh of her sex, to be reminded that she had made herself a willing whore for a mean girl. This was absolute surrender, the ultimate degradation, a gift that would last a lifetime.

Rebecca abruptly slapped the slave on the rump.

"Stop day-dreaming, cunt," she barked. "Eyes forward. Stand up straight."

The slave stood up more erectly and looked straight ahead. She hoped Rebecca would hit her again. She wondered if she would be whipped later. She hoped so. Maybe Rebecca would have the man do it. He had a stronger hand. Her entire body was thrumming now.

This was what she craved. This was what she needed. Even now, as the girl mocked and taunted her, she could feel her arousal growing. Soon, her essence would leaking down her thighs in thick, shiny rivulets for all to see, an irrefutable physical manifestation of her own depravity.

As if on cue, Rebecca bent down and pinched the slaves pussy lips again.

"Oops, starting to leak already, I see," said the mistress. She paused and sniffed the air. "God, and you smell rank. What a fucking slut."

Rebecca tested the consistency of the drooping labia between her thumb and finger.

"These are looking even puffier than usual," she said suspiciously. "You haven't been letting your husband fuck you, have you?"

The slave looked aghast.

"Oh no, Miss Rebecca. This is your pussy. Nobody fucks it. Not ever!"

Rebecca regarded the slave cooly.

"When's the last time you had a cock in my pussy?"

The slave paused, adding up the time in her head.

"About three months ago, Miss Rebecca. That's when you told me I was no longer allowed to fuck my husband."

Rebecca paused.

"Oh, the poor dear. I hope he's not feeling too deprived," said the young mistress in mock sympathy.

"Oh no Miss Rebecca. He's fine. I suck him off twice a day, morning and night as you ordered. He doesn't even have to ask. If he's in the mood for fucking, I let him use my ass, just like you told me."

Rebecca released her grip on the slave's swollen labia and stood up straight. Just then, there came the sound of approaching footsteps and Thomas walked in to the room, carrying two drinks. He ignored the standing slave and handed a glass of Chardonnay to Rebecca, kissing her lightly on the cheek. Finally, he turned to face the naked woman. He eyed her cooly.

He was dressed in a well-cut charcoal suit with a gleaming white shirt and burgundy tie. It was obvious he had gone straight from the office to pick up Rebecca for their date. He was a big man, well over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He had the bronze, chiseled features of an avid sailor. He exuded strength and confidence. At forty-four years of age, he was much older than Rebecca, but he was still a very capable lover and was very well endowed. He had unbelievable staying power. The slave had watched him fuck Rebecca for over an hour at a time on dozens of occasions.

"Aren't you going to greet Master Thomas?" asked Rebecca primly

The slave quickly dropped to her knees. She repeated the ritual of kissing crotch and feet with the man, then, still kneeling offered herself to him.

"This slave presents herself for use, sir," she said softly, looking straight ahead.

The man stared down at the kneeling slave, a thin cruel smile on his face.

"We were just discussing her pussy training," said Rebecca cheerily. "I'd be interested to know what you think of her progress."

Rebecca looked down at the slave.

"Stand up, cunt and show Master Thomas your pretty lips," she said curtly.

The slave stood and resumed her inspection position, thrusting out her pussy toward the man.

Thomas took a long pull of his scotch, the bent forward and looked closely at the distended labia. He gently flicked the dangling lock once, then stood up straight.

"I think it's gross," he said in a decidedly disinterested tone, then took another sip of his drink.

Rebecca squealed.

"Oh, that's wonderful, Thomas! That's exactly the look we were going for. So, you wouldn't want to fuck that thing, right?" asked Rebecca. She was practically jumping up and down with delight.

"Hell no," said the man with disgust.

The slave said nothing of course as wave after wave of self-loathing washed over her. She was in heaven. She dearly loved to be degraded in front of Rebecca's lover. This was exactly why he was present.

Rebecca turned her attention to the slave's breasts. She reached out and cupped both globes proprietarily.

"What about her tits? Don't they look like they're sagging more lately? And look at those nipples. Aren't they freakish?"

The man eyed the slaves breasts over the rim of his glass.

Both nipples were pierced, of course. The rings were the same exact diameter as those adorning her vagina and had been up-sized according to the same schedule. Similar to the labial rings, the nipple rings were worn permanently, allowing gravity to do its work.

The nipples, which had already been fairly large at baseline, we're now enormous. The areolae were as big and round as saucers. The nipples themselves were stretched over three times their initial length. The reddish brown nubbins of flesh dangled down with the weight of the metal rings a full two and a half inches.

The breasts themselves had also started to succumb to the permanent traction of the heavy rings. Six months ago, they might have been described as firm or even perky. Now they were hanging almost flat against the slave's chest wall like compressed pancakes.

A small golden bell was attached to each nipple ring.

"They look more like udders, than tits," said the man caustically.

Rebecca smiled.

"That's right! That's it exactly!"

She turned to the slave.

"Get down on all fours and ring your bells for us, dear. I want to really hear them chime."

The slave quickly dropped to her knees, then fell forward on to her hands. She began to rock her shoulders back and forth and sway her hips to create momentum. Her pendulous breasts began to sway beneath her. The bells began to ring.

She felt a high heel dig in to her rump.

"Louder, you old cow. And let me hear you moo!" hissed Rebecca.

This was a new one.

The slave picked up the pace of her movements. The bells rang more loudly. Then she began to moo softly.

She felt a hard slap on her left ass cheek. The plug shifted uncomfortably in her ass under the force of the blow.

It was the man.

"Louder, Flossy," he barked cruelly. "I want to really hear you. Like your udders are full and you need a milking."

The slave mooed more loudly. The bells sang on. The lock dangled and swayed back and forth between her legs as she swayed her hips lewdly to keep the momentum going.

"Mooooo! Mooooo! Moooo!"

Both the man and woman laughed uproariously above her and sipped their drinks. They actually high-fived each other a couple of times.

This was a new low. Victoria Reynolds had never felt more humiliated in her life. Just that very morning, Dr. Victoria Reynolds had rounded on patients in the hospital, making life and death decisions. Now, here she was on her hands and knees in her own home, naked, collared, plugged and pierced and braying like a farm animal for the amusement of a junior resident.

She was also about to cum.

The lock swaying beneath her as she rocked had created a cadence of subtle friction between her dangling lips and some slight tension on the hood of her clit as her skin was stretched with each long arc of the lock's movement. The slave mooed louder and began to focus on the building sensation of impending release.

It had been so long.

The slave knew she would be punished if she came, but she didn't care. The sensations between her legs were too strong. The added frisson of her acute humiliation was just too much to bear. She was going to explode at any second.

It was the sheer volume and fluidity of her own lubrication that thwarted her release. The man looked down casually and saw a long thin runner of clear, viscous fluid stretching unbroken from the slave's distended labia to the floor.

"Oh, God, she's dripping all over the floor again, Rebecca," he said in disgust.

The slave continued to rock back and forth. She mooed louder.

She was so close.

"That's enough!" shouted Rebecca firmly. She could see by the expression on the slaves face that she was close to orgasm.

The slave continued to rock and moo, louder than ever. The rings tinkled. The bells chimed.

"I said, that's enough!" Rebecca shouted again.

The slave ignored her. She was almost there.

Abruptly Rebecca reached down and grabbed the slave by the pony tail and jerked her head back, looking her in the face.

"Don't you dare!" she screamed into the slave's face.

Victoria finally stopped moving. She looked up into Rebecca's face for a few seconds, then began to cry. Rebecca released her hold on the pony tail. The slave hung her head between her shoulders and sobbed quietly.

Suddenly, Rebecca turned tender. She began to stroke the slave's hair.

"There, there," she cooed softly. "It's okay. It's perfectly natural, dear. Of course you want to cum. Nothing to be ashamed of, but you need to ask permission, sweetie. Remember, I own your pussy now. It's up to me when I let it cum," she added gently.

She stood up straight and regarded the slave.

"How long has it been, Victoria, since I allowed you release?"

The slave remained on all fours, staring down at the floor.

"Almost two months, Miss Rebecca," said the slave bleakly.

"My, my, that is a long time," replied the young mistress in mock consternation. "But you'll be happy to know I was going to let you cum tonight anyway. I have a little game I want to play."

The slave looked up sharply.

"Really?" she blurted.

Rebecca looked at the slave and scowled, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry. I mean really, Miss Rebecca?" asked the slave, chastened.

"Yes, really. See, I have your key right here," said the Rebecca evenly, holding out the small golden key. "I was just waiting for the right moment."

Rebecca paused for a second and looked up, shaking her hips lightly back and forth as of testing the strength of her knees.

"I think I'm ready now," said the young mistress cryptically. "All you have to do is ask."

The slave pushed herself up on to her haunches and looked up at her mistress, then over at the man who was watching the conversation with interest. She hesitated for a few seconds, wary of a trap.

At last, the slave spoke.

"Can I please cum, Miss Rebecca?"

"Now, now, slut. Use the proper form, please. You know you don't get to cum like a real woman," said Rebecca archly, smiling at the man.

The slave paused again for several beats before speaking again.

"Can I please jingle my rings, for you, Miss Rebecca?" the slave asked softly.

Rebecca smiled.

"You sure you want to do it, cunt?" she asked.

The slave beamed up at her mistress, nodding her head eagerly. Rebecca was reminded of a puppy begging for a treat.

"Oh yes, Miss Rebecca, please. I'll do anything. I'll put on a good show for you, I promise," chirped the slave earnestly.

Rebecca's smile widened.

"I'm sure you will, cunt. I'm sure you will," said Rebecca. "I'll tell you what. Why don't you crawl into the living room and wait for us? I'll be there in a minute with your key."

Victoria crawled quickly out of the foyer toward the living room, her leash dragging behind her. When she was out of earshot, the man turned to Rebecca.

"You're really going to let the old cunt cum? What's the occasion?" he asked between sips of his drink.

Rebecca walked away toward the kitchen.

"Follow me," she said over her shoulder.

When they got to the well-appointed kitchen, Rebecca began to open and close cabinet doors rapidly.

"What are you looking for?" asked the man, mildly interested now.

"Aha! Here it is. Perfect!" Rebecca exclaimed, holding up a large clear glass mixing bowl. "This will do nicely."

She placed the bowl on the counter, then held up the key. With a theatrical flourish, she dropped the small key into the center of the deep mixing bowl, where it clattered loudly.

Rebecca picked up the bowl and held it in front of her with two hands.

"I'm in the mood for testing limits tonight," she said, smiling mischievously.

"What did you have in mind?" asked Thomas playfully. Rebecca had his full attention now.

The pretty young mistress paused for effect, then looked up at the man and batted her eyelashes seductively.

"Tell me, Thomas, do you by any chance have to pee?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with merriment.

The man regarded Rebecca blankly for a few seconds before it sunk in. He smiled broadly.

"As a matter of fact, I do," he said, reaching for the bowl.

Rebecca maintained her grip.

"Not so fast," she said brightly, stepping toward the nearby powder room.

She shifted the bowl to her left hand, opening the door with her right.

"Ladies first," she said, stepping into the bathroom with the large bowl.

"Don't worry," she added, as she closed the door behind her. "It's big enough for both of us."