Soames's Submissives: Cori

Corisande breathed deeply, remembering. It had been so long since Soames had left. The last night he'd made a surprise visit, Cori had come in, dejected somewhat, from the supermarket.

A project at work was not getting done fast enough, and of course although Cori was head of the group, she sometimes let her employees slack off and bully her. And then, of course...the work didn't get done on time.

So Cori had bought her own flowers at the store, an unusual thing for a fairly attractive (still at forty) gal to have to do.

But it was just to cheer her up a bit, and she'd been surprised, and secretly gratified by Soames being there when she'd gotten in.

"H-hello Soames, it's good to see you."

"What's this? Carnations? From whom?" Soames had snatched the flowers out of Cori's hand. He'd then casually kicked her knee and she'd dropped the groceries, and instantly had to go down on her knees to grub around, picking them up.

"I, I just got them I--"

But, after Cori had dropped her stuff in the kitchen, Soames pulled her to him and ordered her to eat one of the flowers while the rest of the bouquet was being fed down the garbage disposal.

Soames slapped Cori's face a few times, enjoying how his big hand could make her little chin swing back and forth.

"Guess what I found, honey. I was at a flea market with Bonnie--"

Oh, how Cori hated Soames's other girlfriends. Soames often made Cori serve them, and it wasn't pretty.

"And I found a big leather strap like your grandpa used to thrash you with when you spent your college summers with him. Take down your pants, honey. It's party time!"

Normally, after a painful whipping, Cori would blow Soames, and lend him some money, and then after he left, she'd kneel on the kitchen floor frigging herself in the nude.

But Soames told her this time that he was moving to Dubai...

And Cori had begged him to reconsider, "I know you're leaving with a rich submissive...but I will pay you more to stay here, I really will."

Soames had then slapped Cori's face so hard her mouth bled. "Don't you castrate me!"

But then she sobbed, apologizing for her impertinence, and then Soames hugged her and advised her to find someone else.

"It will be good if you grow as a submissive, you don't seem to function well going independently, Cori old girl."

Luckily, Corisande, at odds for a bit, talked to a friend at the Tawse Society, a hard-core submissive called Syri.

It was Syri who told Cori about Miss Pratt.

"Have you ever submitted to a woman besides Soames's slutty girlfriends...and of course your sisters?"

Cori had told Syri about her sisters.

"No, I'm heterosexual, I don't really feel an attraction to women, but I did experiment a little in college."

Cori thought of when she'd been working at a deli for DeShawn, a big burly black girl. DeShawn had correctly perceived that Cori was financially fine and was just working to expiate liberal guilt.

Thus, DeShawn had slashed Cori's back and buttocks behind the dumpster every week and then demanded that Cori turn her paycheck over to DeShawn.

And if Cori's check, delivered from the head office, was not sealed, DeShawn had also used her broken car ariel across Cori's bare nipples!

The rest of the staff in the deli had enjoyed watching the naked white girl bounce and writhe as DeShawn had worked her over...did that count as experimentation?

Syri listened to this curious story with some aplomb.

"My next question would be, would you be willing to pay for a good session?"

Cori was hurt. "I'm pretty cute, Syri. Don't you think? I can see why some fat, bloated dude has to fork out to a dominatrix but why me?"

Syri was quite amused by this.

"Believe you me...I'm, as you know, a former "Mirabella" model, thoroughly heterosexual, and I dropped nearly ten thousand dollars in the homely Miss Pratt's coffers over the past seven years...eaten her cunt a thousand times."

Syri's husky smoker's laugh made Corisande a little nervous. This Miss Pratt was homely too, was she?

"Cori, you need to learn your journey. You should go meet Miss Pratt."

Syri was a wild girl, and she had her own pastry and catering business. Cori had always admired Syri and she now decided to bite the bullet.

When Cori showed up at Miss Pratt's door, she was quite dismayed at the sight of her hostess.

Miss Pratt was a short, pudgy, flat-chested woman of about forty, with thick glasses and a hearing aid.

What could Cori do to explain why she was here? She thought of this as she sat in Miss Pratt's parlor, sipping tea with gin it.

"It's just that after monitoring my staff, looking after my career, being a junior warden at church, and the head of ten committees, and of course making sure Mom is okay in assisted living, I need someone to answer to, you know?"

Miss Pratt nodded, she looked up as a nude woman came in. The girl was quite beautiful, but her head was almost completely shaved.

Her nipples had piercings, and in each, there were little half-pound lead weights.

The girl was carrying a tray of tea and various cookies.

"Ah yes, comestibles. Paige here is like you. She runs an entire information tech department at a bloated corporate behemoth."

Paige gave Cori a brief smile after putting down the tray, and left the room. Cori could see recent red scars on Paige's full buttocks.

"She doesn't work here?"

"Well, not for a living. I let her serve me two or three times a week, janitorial and waitress duties. Two hundred dollars an hour."

"That's really a good amount of money, for such work."

"Yes, but lately she's had to put it on her Visa card, I don't know how long she can continue to afford coming by to clean. What do you think of the shaved head?"

"It's a shame, she looks like she could grow some pretty hair." Corisande remarked.

Cori thought of how, after they roomed together in grad school in their early twenties, she'd been bullied by her sisters--Chanel, Chiffon, and Chablis. (Indeed, Cori had been christened "Charisma Corisande" but with the luck she seemed to have in life, she'd gone by her middle name much of her life.)

Cori's sisters had generally treated her like a punching bag, she felt. And the haircut thing brought back a nasty memory.

Once, after seeing Brad Argenteuil, the Buchanan High tight end toying with Cori's pretty blonde tresses, Chanel and Chablis had thrown Cori down and cut off much of her hair, giving her a sort of Mohawk, which of course got Cori thrown off the cheerleading squad.

Cori's sisters were always jealous of Cori's beauty.

Especially Chiffon, who was a bit flat chested. Sometimes, after watching the way boys looked at Corisande in the school hallways in a tight cashmere sweater, Chiffon would go a bit bonkers when Cori got home.

Cori remembered Chif assaulting Cori, tying her to a tree in the back yard, stark naked, and then Chiffon whipping her bare breasts with thorny brambles and carpet beaters.

Chiffon had screamed "I hate you, you cow!" at Cori as she'd flailed away. But it was no use, Cori was still stacked.

The folks had paid for Chiffon's boob job in junior year, but still she never looked as beautiful as Corisande.

Chanel had not really resented Cori's looks, but she was always mad that Cori, a bit of a dreamer, would do silly things like lose car keys or not pick up dry cleaning.

So Chanel, although a year younger, would exasperatedly order Cori to flip up her miniskirt and pull down her panties and bend over an old barrel in the cellar.

Chanel would beat Cori with the vacuum cleaner cord, and then send Cori to look for the keys around the house, and give her another whipping for every hour she couldn't find them.

And Cori knew she was absent minded and that her sister was lovingly just trying to wake her up a little.

Chablis, the oldest, was also the scariest sister. Chablis was a manic-depressive, a bipolar bitch.

Chablis would come home and be chattering a mile a minute, and exercise her rage by beating the crap out of all the sisters, but Cori got the most of it, because Cori, a Suicide Hotline volunteer, would try to reason with her insane sibling, and get her nose punched as a result.

Cori shivered as she remembered when Chablis had come in one night and dragged Cori out by her ear into the back yard (in December) in only a nightie...

Chablis had then turned the hose on Cori, after which she'd warmed Cori up with Grandpa's Blackwood cane...and then, of course Chablis had wandered off, chattering to herself, and Cori, covered in welts, had had to talk her nutty sister into coming back in the house.

"You think you're so beautiful, bitch" all the sisters said, and it was true.

How was it Cori's fault that she was so pretty? It was true, there was some difference in her parentage, Mom had slept around a bit, and while the other three were clearly their father's children, Cori's dad, a swarthy biker, had put quite a bit in the gene pool for Cori...

Cori's friends often asked her why she didn't fight back against her sisters.

Part of it was because Cori's parents would have been finished in their small town if it had been known that Mom fooled around, and so Cori felt guilty that she was better looking and frankly a lot smarter than her sisters.

Not only were Chanel Chablis pimpled and overweight, and Chiffon a chain smoker by seventh grade, none of them had quite made it through college, but Cori had gone through to an M.B.A. on full scholarship...and it made her feel badly sometimes.

As Cori had never really learned to fight, she was in for it a lot of the time. It wasn't that she was in bad shape. She was a basketball, tennis, field hockey and track star, but could never harm another person.

While in grad school she'd fallen into a local BDSM society, the "Thumbscrew Kids."

There Cori had met DeForrest Kenseth, otherwise known as Frosty.

Frosty was an accounting major but what was more interesting, at least to Cori was that Frosty served as a bisexual master.

Frosty a slender African American, was a chastity key holder to a number of students of either sex.

Cori had been inflamed with an intense desire during one of the first meetings of the Thumbscrew Kids.

Once Cori was listening to a timid M.F.A. candidate discussing how he had to visit Frosty and orally service him eight or ten times a month and maintain straight A's in order to receive the key to his belt for a brief onanism once every sixty days.

"It' s not so easy." Willoughby, the Fine Arts sub said. "Not only does Frosty deny me for an extra month if I get B's, but if they go below B's Frosty uses a razor strop on my bare buttocks. Sometimes he whips my penis with a straightened coat hanger."

"And he's not cheap. I took an extra student loan out and used my Aunt Hetty's trust money for Frosty, telling my folks it was for tutoring...Frosty got the tribute." The timid boy beamed. "But my parents are thrilled with my being on the Dean's list."

Cori had never had trouble with her grade point average, but this Frosty fellow's indifference and seeming contempt entranced her. Cori had met Frosty and taken him to dinner, surprised by the articulation of a man who'd grown up in Watts, Los Angeles.

"Yes, my mother was a junkie, and most of my brothers and sisters are dead or in jail, but I learned my English through PBS comedies such as "Are You Being Served?" and got my tutoring from an old Jewish man down the hall in our tenement, which lead to this college scholarship."

Frosty went on to discuss his peculiar views on the BDSM relationship.

"You white kids have never really had any discipline--"

Cori had doubted this was true in her case, but she'd listened eagerly.

"And so, to keep from spending your lives masturbating, you must pay me to lock you up. It's sort of sad, really."

"Is it terribly expensive?" Cori asked despondently. "To lock up and do the key holder thing. I'm a scholarship person too, Master."

Frosty had smiled at Cori. "You are a peachy little thing. I might give you a special deal."

Corisande came to Frosty's place some nights later, and as they'd sat in the living room, Cori suddenly noticed a somewhat obese woman kneeling naked in the corner, her gargantuan buttocks protruding, with not a few bruises.

"That's Trinette" Frosty said, smiling.

"Trini is a spoiled suburban lard-bucket. She's the daughter of a haughty socialite type, and Trini's beauteous Mama criticized her lovely daughter's propensity for excessive cupcakes, and the rich daddy indulged his obese princess in every other way, causing Trini to be somewhat confused."

At the question in Cori's eyes, Frosty elaborated, laughing. "Trini didn't know whether she was a princess or a pig. And she still doesn't, and I have to help her emotionally sort it out."

Hearing herself spoken of so mockingly, Trinette began sobbing softly, burying her chubby face further in the corner.

"Trinette was a bookish girl in school, mocked by her socialite mother, but the poor thing tried her best to entertain boys...

She was the whore of her prep school, and then was dropping to her knees in the cloakroom to service the male wallflowers at Mount Holyoke freshman mixers.

Frosty had whistled at the fat woman who had shuffled around on her knees to cower in front of the clothed Frosty and Corisande.

Trinette stared into the shag carpet as Frosty continued his tale.

"At some point, Trini was servicing every man on the Mount Holyoke campus, which led to a nervous breakdown, a stay in a mental hospital, and then her transfer to this campus.

Ah, but the problem remained. How to keep her from being a bigger fool than she was? Of course the answer was intense discipline and humiliation."

Cori watched quietly as the tears rolled further down Trini's pudgy cheeks.

"This is Trini's apartment. Again, the girls in her dorm quickly made her a scapegoat and the boys used her mouth as a relieving massage instrument.

So her daddy got her this nice little place, and then Trini joined the Thumbscrew Kids and invited me to live here as well."

"Rent free?" Cori asked, in some horror. "But Frosty, you keep her nude and in the corner all the time? Not much of a deal, if you ask me."

Cori felt a bit rude talking about Trini as if she were an object, but found it difficult to give this chubby heiress any sort of real respect.

"Most of the time" Frosty said, pushing Trinette's shoulder with the heel of his boot. "She knows what she needs."

Trinette came to life, and took Frosty's boots and socks off and began massaging his toes and arches.

"Girls like Trini have to be reminded regularly about what bales of shit they really are. I've worn out canes and belts and wooden spoons on her grotesque butt-cheeks trying to keep Trini from being officious and rude to sales people and others in the service industry. I think it's really been good for her ego reduction."

Frosty had stretched.

"And then on the other hand, her shoulders are a little straighter and her head's higher when she goes to class, with a more normal idea of who she is--no more or less important than anyone else, instead of this nonsensical idea that she's the piece of shit that the world focuses on."

"I taught Trini to serve men and women, and you've never had your cunt licked until Trini has been between your legs, isn't that right, lard-bucket."

Fresh tears appeared on Trini's round face, but she nodded silently as she continued to rub Frosty's feet, and incredibly, to suck his toes.

"Trini avers to be in love with me, wanting no one else, but despite her professed heterosexuality, I've been teaching her to take whippings and corporal punishment from bar sluts I bring home,.

Yes, and teaching Trini to give the low-class girls extensive vaginal orgasms with her merry mouth."

Frosty laughed again, and Corisande noted with some revulsion that Trini was redoubling her efforts on slurping the dirt from his toes.

"And since I have taken Trini's vibrator and locked her nether lips up, she must work towards a release date, and of course she has all these tasks to do. Show Cori your chastity piercing...your locked twat, Trini."

Trini had given Frosty a pleading look, and Frosty had responded by flicking his lit Marlboro at her right nipple.

Crying harder in abject humiliation, Trini had opened her thunder thighs further and used her thumbs to push her clitoris out for Corisande's inspection. And indeed, there was a ring and tiny padlock hanging there.

"All day long, I get that Trini ran her vibrator over her wee-wee, to the neglect of her grades." Frosty had said, lighting a fresh cigarette.

"Trini sucked much dick in school but of course she had to rub her own pud for any possible pleasure. I locked up her clitty so we wouldn't have all the self-centeredness."

Trini resumed her operations on Frosty's feet, and Cori was oddly aroused at the fat woman's mindless devotion.

"Earning her orgasms keeps her fat, ugly mug on my wiener, and lots of other people's genitals, and then sometimes when I feel generous I give Trini her key and let her rub one out for me."

Another pleading glance, and Frosty laughed in the fat woman's face. "No, no finger fun for you today, Trini.

You have finals to study for and whippings to take. Why don't you make your bloated body useful and bring myself and Miss Corisande a couple of Sam Adams."

Cori had had to admit at the time she'd been somewhat turned on by the desperation in Trini's watery eyes.

To have your orgasms stopped until you please a thuggy intellectual like Frosty just seemed too good to be true.

When Trini had returned with the beer on a tray, one of the bottles wobbled about and Frosty had stood, forcefully taking the tray from the fat woman. He set the tray on the coffee table, rose again and slapped Trini's face, hard.

"You slop around here like a gross pig, Trini, and it makes you look horrible and embarrass me in front of my guest."

"Master, you make me wear high heels when I'm serving--"

Cori noted with astonishment that it was true, although Trini was naked, she also was wearing black six inch high heels.

"Yes, and you look ridiculous in the heels, emetic in fact. Bend over the sofa arm I'm going to give you a few with the split tail."

Corisande had been amazed at how Trini's hands had covered her moth, teetering on her heels. "Please, oh please, Frosty--"

Why doesn't she just order the guy out? Cori thought, though she found herself getting even more excited.

Trini could easily call the campus cops and evict Frosty in a minute. But the African American master seemed to have the entire business under his thumb.

Frosty grabbed Trini by the ear and dragged her, as she nearly stumbled over the heels, until they got to the side of the couch, and he'd pushed her over the armrest, fetching a split tailed tawse from behind the coffee table.

Cori had watched the leather come down thirty times as Trini had screamed, and then the fat woman had been sent to bed early sobbing by her exasperated master, who of course, was still laughing behind his eyes.

Cori had felt she should be horrified, but had found her panties drenched, as she'd watched Trini's fleshy buttocks jiggle when the tawse had savagely crisscrossed, again and again.

Within a few weeks, Cori's clitoris was locked, and certainly she'd stayed that way, in Frosty's service.

He'd come to meet her sisters, and forced Cori to disrobe in front of them, and given them tips on Cori's "home discipline."

Cori had been humiliated and aroused...she'd been kept on a strict schedule, getting only 90 day masturbation times, except of course during her year in Paraguay, when Frosty had refused to mail the key...

Yes, and she'd had to stay locked and c haste the entire nine months, carefully avoiding the inviting glances of handsome Latino men.