Sierra The French Maid
The following story you are about to read is a work of fiction and does not represent real world activities. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. All rights reserved. This eBook or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The following story is merely for entertainment.
BDSM Five Copyright © 2020
Sierra’s encounter on the Bus leads to far reaching consequences living in Austin, Texas. The bus was hot and crowded, and Sierra was pleased that she had managed to get a seat, despite the June sunshine beating fiercely though the window of the Austin, TX city bus. The little black haired girl, who worked as a waitress, took an MP3 player out of her handbag and slipped the headphones over her ears, mostly to distance herself from the press of bodies surrounding her. For the most part, they were the usual mix of city workers, soberly and smartly dressed, if somewhat rumpled by the heat of the day; but the man sitting opposite was rather different. He was a well-dressed individual in his early twenties, wearing a blue suit and tie with neatly-trimmed brown hair.
But something about this man seemed off to Sierra. She shivered whenever she caught him looking at her. The man turned his gaze away from the window and gave her a wink, which seemed to be full of lewd promises. Surely she must have imagined it! She blushed with involuntary embarrassment as the bus got underway, trying to avoid his eyes but uncomfortably conscious that he was still looking her over with interest.
For once, Sierra wished that she was wearing something more conservative, although her attire was perfectly respectable for working in a family restaurant in a way that enhanced the appearance of her attractive young figure: shiny black shoes and fine black tight spandex pants, which displayed her legs to their best advantage. She was acutely conscious of the fact that her black spandex was tightly covering her ass.
Her black cotton shirt and name tag, reading Ground Round, with her name Sierra at the bottom said it all. Sierra wasn’t a tease, but she did enjoy the attention she received from most men. The stare from the man across from her, however, was far from welcome. She tried her best to rub it off listening to her MP3 player.
The bus rumbled on over the molten summer tracks, and Sierra made a deliberate effort to ignore the unpleasant stranger. After all, there was nothing he could do to her. She shut her eyes to blank him out and turned up the volume of her MP3 player. With any luck, he would leave the Bus before she opened them again. As the music found its rhythm she felt better. The stresses of the day began to seep from her body, and the clackety-clack of the bus soothed her into a light doze. She relaxed unconsciously in her seat and put her head back. Soon she was quite unaware of the other occupants of the bus…
The man continued his frank scrutiny of the pretty passenger. On the whole, he liked what he saw. The young girl was in her late teens. She had nice legs and a pretty little tight ass; her breasts would be sweet and tender. He’d been looking for a suitable opportunity for more than a month, and this one was nearly perfect. It was time to see whether or not the device would really work.
The man reached into his pocket and flicked a switch on a small rectangular metal box. The device was a special piece of equipment he had built. Through his research, the device would be capable of interfering with the normal operation of an MP3 player.
Underneath the basic signal of the MP3 player, the machine broadcast its own subliminal message with sounds operating at barely audible frequencies. And Sierra picked them up, her ears and brain absorbing the message, whilst her consciousness remained unaware of the orders filtering deeper and deeper inside her mind. When she reached to scratch her leg the man smiled in secret satisfaction. The girl was taking the bait!
This was the first of the hypnotic suggestions, a low-level itch implanted just below the knee. It was a reflex action for her to scratch, her brightly painted red nails finally laddering her tights before the impulse was suppressed. From the compliant pattern of her behavior, the man knew that he had found the perfect subject. Conditions on the bus were ideal for impressing his message. Heat, rhythmic motion and sleepiness had all combined to induce a suspension of higher mental activity, and the bus was obviously naturally susceptible. It had taken less than a minute to successfully induce an initial response. Now he had to make the most of the circumstances to convey his remaining important instructions. The man flicked another switch on his machine and initiated a second phase. Sierra’s programming had begun…
Clickerty, clack, clickerty clack, clickerty clack. Under the intermittent pneumatic hiss of brakes and the higher frequency static of her MP3 player, Sierra slipped into a deeper and deeper trance. She was dreaming now; dreaming of a long slow bath. The sunshine warmed her like hot water, floating her away from the world to a secret place where her lover was waiting. She smiled unconsciously, thinking of his hands on her shoulders, gripping her tightly before moving slowly over her body. It was just as it should be. She was there to please him; there to provide pleasure for his needs. Soon he would use her, would take her and satisfy himself with her. It was what she wanted. She wanted to be useful. She knew that she must never disappoint him. He was stroking her now and she could feel herself getting hotter and stickier. A pleasing moist excitement was building between her legs. She stirred slightly, as though some subdued part of her mind was rebelling against the gathering flood of her emotions. But any awareness of place or time had faded under the onslaught from the MP3 player. Instead she knew that she had to listen carefully.
She had to listen for two words. Listen for a man to speak the words. The man who spoke the words would tell her what to do. He would tell her what she must do. It would be very wrong to resist him. Very wrong. Her lover insisted that she obey the man, and what her lover wanted was what she must do…
Sierra felt a firm pressure on her shoulder again and the headphones slipped from her ears. With a momentary flash of confusion, the little bus shook her head and she blinked sharply, waking up with a head full of disturbing images. The first thing she noticed was that the seat opposite was empty. The well dressed man was gone. The second thing she noticed was that he was now sitting in the seat beside her, and his strong left arm was around her shoulder!
She began to tremble in shock, but before she could open her mouth to scream, he was bending his face to her ear, planting a man berry wet kiss on her cheek and whispering,
“You’re mine now, sugar pie! All mine!”
At a level far below the centers of independent thought, Sierra recognized the words of command. Sugar pie. There was nothing she could do to resist the man who spoke them. She had to obey him now. There was no choice.
“Kiss me, sugar pie,” he said. “Kiss me like you mean it!”
The reluctant bus turned slowly towards him. She was still trembling in his arms, unable to understand what was happening to her. Consciously she hated this disgusting man, but her instincts had been overridden. Although she was still engaged in a silent struggle against his authority, it was a losing battle.
Now the man could study his victim’s face in more detail. She was pretty with a pale complexion, wavy shoulder length hair, a neat little nose and a small mouth. The man almost felt guilty from sensing the hint of fear in the girl’s wide blue eyes, which stared back at him like a rabbit in a cage, but he knew it would pass. He detected the first sign of tears but ignored them, bending forward hungrily to kiss her fully on the mouth. Sierra felt physically sick, but when he instructed her to bend her head and kiss him properly, she did as she was told. The man pushed his tongue inside the young woman’s mouth to savor the sweetness of her muted gasp of protest. She was delicious! His left arm had now taken a firm hold and his hand reached up to grope her breast, applying a little light pressure in a preliminary assessment of the captive flesh. He wasn’t disappointed. Sierra’s mammary glands were softly yielding but firm enough when squeezed—a tasty morsel for anyone who claimed them.
She began to squirm uncomfortably in her seat. How could he have done this to her?
“Come on, darling. This is our stop.”
The man had taken control now, and Sierra found herself swept up and off the bus before she had any opportunity to prevent it. And of course this wasn’t her stop at all; it was the Far East side Austin, TX suburb and it was near the man’s residence. Once he had her on the platform, he indulged himself with another kiss as the bus pulled away. The girl was as good as his! It was time to take her home.
The man hurried Sierra along, almost dragging her behind him so that she stumbled more than once, tottering in her shoes as she struggled to keep up with him. In truth, despite the spectacular success of his experiment, the man wasn’t sure how long the conditioning would last. Only five minutes had elapsed since the young woman had removed the headphones. He suspected that she might soon begin to recover from the initial hypnotic assault, and her individuality would reassert itself. Before that could happen he needed to get her somewhere where he could reinforce his domination.
The neighborhood outside of his home was well-kept and beautiful. His home was two floors with a front and back yard. A row of old housing was occupied by families and a few tenants, and three vacant properties. The man’s house was painted yellow, with some stains on the side of the house.
A group of young kids were kicking a football around in their front yard on a nice, warm day like today after school. This was the kind of place Sierra always envisioned her married life with her future husband.
The man hustled his catch up the driveway, frog-marching Sierra up the stoop to the entrance of his home before anyone took notice. But it was early afternoon, and the only ones around were those kids playing football.
Reaching the door, she was unceremoniously shoved inside. The place was a tip. Clothes were strewn all over the furniture, including smelly socks. There was a stain on the carpet. Dirty plates on all the free surfaces were mute evidence that no one had washed up in quite a while. A harsh barking greeted their arrival, and a Miniature Schnauzer bounded into the room.
“Down Ron, down boy!” the man said, gesturing sharply at the snarling animal. He noticed with some interest how Sierra quailed in front of the beast. ‘Almost’, he thought, ‘as if she’s more scared of Ron than me.’ In this state Sierra wasn’t really capable of rational thought, but her primitive fear response was still working below the level of his control.
In the kitchen, the man filled a glass of water and took a tablet from a brown bottle by the side of the sink. When dropped it into the glass, the white powdery pill dissolved within thirty seconds. He returned to Sierra and gave her the glass.
It wasn’t a request; it was an order. The man knew the importance of simple commands with no room for interpretation. His authority worked best when exercised in the most straightforward way. She hesitated for a moment, and then drank the water in five or six anxious little gulps.
“Good girl,” he crooned, feeling the beginning of an erection at this new evidence of his growing power over the pretty, black haired girl. Swallowing that water had been an extremely serious error on the part of his prey. With the drug in her system, the silly bitch would be so much easier to condition.
“Now sit down,” he said, clearing away a bundle of newspapers and envelopes from an old leather arm chair. But he had miscalculated the level of Sierra’s submission by a tiny fraction. When he wasn’t facing her directly, she was just starting to find a way to muster her own thoughts. It had started when he was in the kitchen, but a certain residual numbness prevented her from acting, and when he’d returned she’d relapsed for a crucial few seconds. Now, though, something told her that this was her last chance to break free.
“No! I won’t! I won’t!” she squeaked as she turned away and ran for the door. With a heartfelt rush the man followed, his heart pounding. If the bitch got away, he’d be in real trouble! She was already near the door! The click of her shoes on the carpet was accompanied by a little sobbing gasp for breath as she did her best to put distance between them. Her escape attempt might well have worked if it were not for a cruel piece of luck.
Reaching for the doorknob, she caught her breath. She felt the man’s arms grab her brutally around the waist, and she was hauled to her feet. She managed a single scream, and then he turned her around and delivered a stinging slap across the face, which shocked her into silence. Sobbing more loudly now, the captive was easily reclaimed and marched back into his living room. With a quick push she was put in place in the chair, and this time he took no chances, jamming the headphones over her ears and holding her down by the pressure of his arms on her shoulders. She kicked out and tried to punch him, but it was like trying to fight a tiger. Nothing she did seemed to have any effect, and she was getting so tired, so very, very tired… it was easier just to stop now, to relax like the voice in her head was saying. Her hands dropped to her side and she closed her eyes.
The man breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the combined effect of the drug and the MP3 player take hold, visibly smoothing Sierra’s features and overcoming the last vestiges of resistance. In a rather perverse way, her escape attempt had actually expedited the softening-up process, as her burst of adrenaline had helped to pump his drug more quickly through the bloodstream. Now he just had to wait. The cumulative effects of chemical and auditory inputs were doing their job very nicely, but they needed time to work. This was to be a much more thorough process of reprogramming than the relatively light snare, which was all he had managed to use on the bus. This time, he didn’t have to work through the device’s electronic interference and rely on fortunate yet uncontrollable environmental factors. Now he could pump his messages directly into his victim’s mind, which was not to say that subtlety was no longer required, but the foundations of a more permanent architecture of control could now be laid.
The man ran his hand up Sierra’s leg, savoring the feel of her flesh beneath the spandex of her tight pants. She was going to be such a good fuck! He could take her now if he wanted, but patience was called for. Everything would be so much better when she had been exposed to the full length of the subliminal.
“Good things come to those who wait,” the man told himself, enjoying the anticipation of a gourmet chef waiting for a delicious recipe to come to a boil. In the meantime, there was work to be done.
The man took his time looking through her handbag, which sat beside her on the couch. It was a nice red leather handbag and inside was her wallet, cell phone, a USB drive, keys, cosmetics, loose change and credit cards. Looking at her wallet and her driver’s license, he learned that she was Sierra Green, 19 years old, living downtown in an apartment.
Sierra continued to breathe slowly as the subliminal told her what to think. The man sitting at the table took her USB drive and plugged it into his laptop computer, checking the contents on the drive. It was college homework; she was studying to be a teacher.
He opened a Word document on his computer and began to type down all the details, building up a picture of his victim’s life. All of this would be confirmation of the facts he would extract from her later. Then he poured himself a drink and switched on a televised darts match. Sierra needed another hour or so to cook before she was ready for interrogation.
The darts match came to an end, and the man switched the TV off. It was time to ask some questions of his pretty little girl prisoner. He began by removing the headphones, pleased to see that when Sierra opened her eyes they were glazed and unfocused. The man decided that it would be more fun to conduct this session with the girl naked, and in any case, he wanted to see some more of his new pet.
“Stand up,” he said, pleased with her instant obedience.
“Now strip,” he said. “I want all your clothes off. And hurry up about it. I haven’t got all day!” His feigned impatience soon had the anxious young girl pulling the black t-shirt over her head and stripping away her black lace bra. The beauty of this technique was that a part of the subject remained aware of the reality of the situation, but was completely powerless to resist. Her shirt, spandex pants, bra and panties were quickly removed and dropped into a black plastic sack, which he held out in front of her.
He set aside her shiny black shoes.
‘Very nice,’ the man thought as he admired Sierra’s body. Her breasts were every bit as delightful as he had imagined, topped by pretty pink nipples in wide, pale pearl areolas. Her belly was smooth and taut, and her sex, covered by a fine down of black hair, was pleasingly plump and enticing. She was trying to cover her body with her hands but it was quite hopeless, and she gave up completely when he ordered her to sit down and rest her arms on the side of the chair.
“I have a few questions for you,” the man said. “You must answer me truthfully, and you must not try to hide anything from me.”
He pressed the record button on his computer, holding the microphone up to her so that he would have a permanent record of the interview.
“What is your name?” He knew the answer to this one already, as he had read her driving license, but it was just a warm up question. She replied instantly.
“Very good, Sierra. Now your address.” Once again the answer rolled off the girl’s tongue and agreed with details he already knew. So far, so good. The next few questions were also routine, eliciting some background information which would prove useful later. He determined where she worked, who she worked with, the names of her friends and the name of her boyfriend. He had half hoped that she would be unattached, but was not at all surprised that a girl like this had a steady relationship. That would have to change…
After a while he began to ask some more intimate questions. How often did she have sex? When was her last orgasm? Did she deliver oral sex to her boyfriend? What about anal sex?
The questions obviously embarrassed the girl, and she began to blush but she answered them all eventually. The man was happy that she was telling the truth, and to learn that she was a virgin.
“Who am I?” he asked at last, aware of her total ignorance of his name but interested in her answer now that she had reached this state of consciousness.
“You are the stranger,” she said without hesitation. She had no guile or sense of social form, and so she just came right out with the name that had first occurred to her.
“That’s right,” he confirmed with a grim smile, deciding to go along with the name. “But you may call me Master. You will address me as Master from now on. Do you understand?”
“Yes master,” she said. Her voice was soft and subdued.
“Now who are you?”
“No, you are not.”
He cut her off before she could complete her reply, his voice firm and uncompromising.
“You are Sierra. Just Sierra. You’re going to do what I tell you from now on. And I shall be using that pretty little body of yours to satisfy my personal use. Do you understand me?”
The unmitigated cruelty of these brutal words seemed to shock the little black haired girl more than anything he had said before, and for a crucial few seconds as he watched her struggling expression, the man wondered if he had gone too far. Then she bowed her head in surrender and he knew he had really won.
Sitting down on his couch he called Sierra, motioning for her to kneel between his legs as he ran his hands through her hair. Unzipping the zipper of his pants, his hard cock slipped out and he shoved it in her face, Sierra felt the tip of his cock touch her tiny lips as he applied firm pressure to the back of her head, guiding her forward. Sierra shivered as he told her to start licking the tip of his cock. He guided his cock into her small mouth, forming a seal around her lips.
Sierra eagerly complied, helpless to refuse his orders. Slowly licking his cock, her master told her to swallow as he released his white gold into her mouth taking his manhood. Not bad for your first blowjob, Sierra, ignoring the tears rolling down her face. That was just the start as he completely filled her mouth with his white gold, causing some of it to leak out and cover her face.
When he was done with her, he released his hand from the back of her head holding her firmly in place, causing the sweet little girl to fall back, not knowing what to do next. Her master told Sierra that she did a fine job.
Sierra began to sob quietly, but stopped when the man delivered a sharp little slap across her face.
She struggled to her feet and followed him into the bathroom. He ran a cold bath and ordered her in, supervising whilst she ran a sponge over her shivering body. In fifteen minutes Sierra was dry and dressed again, but before she could be allowed to go he sat her down under the headphones again for a final ten minute session. There were some important instructions which had to be delivered….
The man watched Sierra walking back to the bus stop from his upstairs window, her shoes clicking on the pavement like the hooves of a nervous gazelle. She still looked delicious in her black spandex pants and tight t-shirt, which hugged her tiny breasts. He’d taken only her panties as a minor trophy. Already, the young 19 teen year old girl was beginning to forget her experiences in Master’s home, suppressing the memories he had told her to lock away. And there were other significant alterations inside her head. By the time she got home, she would only ‘remember’ a long breakdown on the bus.
The man smiled. Sierra was perfect—just perfect. And he had only begun to work with her…
Sierra is dreaming again; one of those long sweaty dreams which have begun to haunt her nights in the last month. She tosses and turns restlessly in her bed as she imagines the touch of another caressing her skin and fondling her body. If only she can learn to do as she is told, she knows that everything will be alright—that she will be granted her release. But she doesn’t even know who touches her. She has been living alone now for more than a fortnight since she threw Kyle out of their apartment at the end of a terrible argument. It was all over nothing, really, but she felt she had to do it. She couldn’t bear to have him near her anymore.
And so she lies in bed and dreams about the mysterious “other,” and feels herself cooking over the hot flame of desire. Sooner or later, it ends in the same way. Her hand reaches down between her legs, searching for the damp folds of her sex, knowing that she must work herself to obtain relief. And then she wakes with a start, and it is as if she has been scalded by a pan of boiling water. This morning the sensation is particularly powerful and she yelps with frustration, tossing he head back on the pillow and gasping as her body cools. There is to be no reprieve from the simmering torture of unquenched needs. It is time to get ready for the day ahead.
The apartment looks empty today. Almost everything is packed in boxes and crates, ready to be moved into storage. She showers and dries herself down before dressing in her skintight blue jeans, a tight green t-shirt and brown leather boots.
With her pretty black hair up in curls, she naturally stands 4’11”. She is checking her appearance carefully in the mirror, knowing that it is important that she looks her best. Today she is going for an interview for a new job.
In the cabinet by the side of the bed there is a small brown bottle of pills. Sierra opens it and takes out the last one, swallowing it quickly. The pills have become an important part of Sierra’s daily routine since she went on prescription. She can’t quite remember why she is taking them, although it must be something to so with those periods of intermittent mental confusion, which she is now experiencing on a daily basis. Sometimes she forgets things, or just gets a bit muddled up. It would be so much easier if only there was someone to tell her what to do. Of course, those special MP3 files help.
Before leaving for her interview she sits down in her chair and puts on her headphones, sitting her ass comfortably on the chair as she listens to her MP3 player. Soon her breathing has slowed and her eyes close as a tide of static and subliminal messages flood her brain. The sound is soothing and pure as it washes her mind, washing her clean of any distracting thoughts…
The phone rings, and she removes the headphones and answers it in a sleepy daze.
“Yes… yes… yes, sir. I’m ready.”
It is time to leave. She checks her handbag and locks her apartment before hurrying to the bus stop. She doesn’t want to be late. It is very important that she get this job—after all, she has already resigned from her previous job and paid off her lease. She has burned her bridges, and now she feels a little anxious about the forthcoming interview—what if she isn’t good enough? She knows she has to try hard to please her new potential employer.
When she gets off the bus at the East Side bus stop, she doesn’t remember anything of her previous visit. Looking at her surroundings, she finds herself in a high class neighborhood, feeling uncertain that she could even get a job in a place like this.
Sierra feels that this place is too good for a girl like her!
But she has to go through with it. She makes her way to the charming home around the corner and knocks at the door. The Master answers with a nasty grin, and for a brief second she seems to recognize him. Then the moment passes and he is just a stranger to her, eyeing her lovely body.
“H.. Hello”, she manages nervously, whilst the insolent man looks her up and down with ill-disguised interest. “I’ve come about the job. I’d like to be considered for the position of maid.”
“You’re late—I was expecting you fifteen minutes ago, but you’d better come in then,” he finishes brusquely. “I suppose I should see if you are up to the job.”
As he shuts the door behind her, the Master is exultant. One slice of hot totty safely delivered! Sierra looks so pretty in her smart city clothes; he can hardly wait to undress and touch her again. And she obviously can’t recall her previous violation. By the time he lets her have those memories again it will be far too late for her to do anything about them…
The interview begins. The Master can sense Sierra’s nervousness in the way she crosses her legs, and her blue jeans reveal the tightness of her ass and a delicious expanse of thigh. He swallows convulsively as he begins his questions.
“Do you know what this position entails?”
“Well.. I just thought.. I mean.”
“Don’t think,” he interrupts sharply. “I do the thinking here. Let me tell you… If I choose to employ you as my maid, I shall expect you to cook and clean around the home. You must keep everything spotless and tidy, and you must be available to work at all hours of the day and night. There are no holidays and there is no free time. Do you understand?”
“Y.. yes,” she answers meekly. She looks around the room, more than a little daunted by the prospect of cleaning here. There is rubbish everywhere, and the sink is full of unwashed dishes.
“Good. You will be expected to wear a uniform which I shall provide for you. On occasions you will be called upon to perform special services, which will be clearly explained at the time. These are reasonable conditions, do you agree?”
“Well, I suppose so, I mean…”
It seems that she is on the verge of tears, but the drugs and the remote conditioning have been very effective, and despite the outrageous nature of his ‘terms’ Sierra caves in before the Master’s demands. Of course, as of yet she has no idea precisely what those demands will mean, but the little black haired girl has progressed so far along the road to submission that she doesn’t think to question further.
“Good. Now, there is something else you must understand. I require complete and instant obedience to my orders. Nothing less with be accepted. If I find that you have failed to fulfill any of my requirements, you will be punished. I do not tolerate careless behavior and I will accept no excuses. Do you understand?”
“Y.. y.. yes”
“Good. And now that I have explained what is to be expected of you, you had better tell me why you think that you are capable of working for me. And don’t bother to lie to me—I know when silly young women are trying to con me.”
The Master finds Sierra’s pathetic floundering for words highly amusing, but he doesn’t let it continue for too long. In the face of such an absurd request, the young woman’s efforts to comply are stimulating her consciousness, and if he isn’t careful she might break out of the conditioning. No. It is enough to see her struggling like playing a fish on a line. The exhaustion alone will make it that much easier to reel her in. And to continue the process, he stops her thinking again by returning to straightforward questions and answers.
“Alright—that’s enough. Let’s see if you’ve prepared yourself properly.”
The Master goes through a checklist of all the things he has asked Sierra to do via the telephone over the last few weeks. Each one was designed to help extract her from society—to cut out her friends and to prepare her for a new life as his maid. A maid who will be expected nowhere and missed by no one. A maid who can be his slave to own, and who can be used exactly as he wants.
The answers are most satisfactory. The rent is paid up and the lease on her apartment is cancelled. Sierra’s bank account has been closed, and she counts out all the cash she has withdrawn and passes it over to him—it was her life savings; money she won’t miss.
The first step to helping him control Sierra more easily.
“Well, everything seems to be in order,” he says at last. “You can start straight away. And to begin with I want to introduce you to a friend of mine.”
The Master goes over to a cupboard by the window and returns with a thin bamboo rod, which he twirls between his fingers like a grotesque parody of a bloated cheerleader.
“This is my friend Mr. Cane, got it?”
Sierra nods her head, slowly looking up at him.
Sitting down on the couch, he says, “You need to find out what Mr. Cane will do to you if you are naughty. Let’s call this a little lesson, shall we? Stand up and bend over my lap, with your back facing me. Now!”
Sierra gets to her feet and leans over his lap, looking down at the floor and cowed by the authority of her new boss. He is soon touching her smooth neck, holding her down over his lap.
“You’ll have to exercise some to make your limbs more supple,” the man complains in muttered undertones, although in truth he is very pleased with the speed and lack of hesitation in Sierra’s response. He runs his other hand up the back of her legs, suddenly feeling her ass touching her jeans of her bottom, and then yanks her jeans down to her knees.
A thin pair of lacy black panties cover her for only a few moments more before they are pulled down to her knees. Sierra’s bare bottom is every bit as interesting as he remembered, and today it will suffer a more severe punishment than the simple spanking he delivered the first time around. He swishes ‘Mr Cane’ through the air for two or three experimental strokes, enjoying the way Sierra’s buttocks clench and relax in involuntarily anticipation.
She is terrified and trembling, and cannot see why she has found herself in this awful predicament. But to disobey this horrible man is somehow unthinkable—she just has to let him chastise her. And perhaps, in truth, she does deserve it. She was late for the interview, after all.
The first blow catches her unawares as she is reviewing her guilt. It lands full across the widest part of her bottom and makes her squeal in anguish.
“Quiet bitch!” the Master says, and Sierra is reduced to a soft sobbing as he delivers another five strokes, each one creating a bright red line of agony across the girl’s soft bottom. She will remember this punishment for some time to come – that is for certain!
When he has finished, he strokes the freshly beaten flesh, tracing the lines made by the cane and making the girl quiver convulsively. And then he moves on. His hand probes between her thighs and finds the hot well of her sex.
To his immense satisfaction it is moist with shame and stimulation. A little gasp of mingled anguish and embarrassment interrupts the low, whimpering commentary of her humiliation. It is precisely this effect that he is looking for and has been seeking to produce. The subliminal MP3’s, the drugs and the hypnosis, which have been self-administered under the guidance of his telephone instructions, have all worked most effectively to bring the lovely black haired girl into his home, and he now owns her body.
Denied any sexual release through the subliminal programming since she started listening to her many training programs, she has been kept in a state of building frustration and taught to expect punishment. Now she will learn to associate pain with pleasure, but more importantly, to associate obedience with pleasure.
He can’t wait any longer as he goes about removing her brown leather boots, following the jeans and panties laying across his lap. “Get up and take off your shirt and bra!”
Feeling shameful, Sierra did as she was told, not wanting to be beaten again by her Boss whom she eagerly obeyed. Standing naked in front of her Boss, he grabs her by the arm and guides her into his bedroom.
Standing in his bedroom, he frees his swelling organ from his underpants.
“Lie on the bed and spread your legs a little now,” he tells the black haired girl, and when she tries to straighten up, he forcibly bends her over again so that her bottom is displayed to its best advantage. He enters her easily, relishing the sensation of her tight tunnel clasping his member with an involuntary spasm of pleasure. His hands grasp her hips and he pumps in and out, making her gasp in unwanted gratification. Then, at the last moment, he utters the fateful words…
“You’re a damn good poke Sugar pie!”
When she hears the key phrase, first implanted in her brain via her own MP3 player on the Bus so long ago, it all suddenly floods back. Sugar pie…
In a rush, Sierra’s memories return. She recalls all the lurid and horrible details of the Master’s first conquest of her body. She realizes exactly how he has continued his manipulation of her, and how he has brought her to this beautiful estate, a place she could only dream about.
Where she is without friends or allies, and at his mercy.
For a brief moment, the veil cast by the drugs and the subliminal programming plus all past hypnosis planted deep within her mind is torn aside, and she screams. Then the Master comes—spending deep inside his pretty black haired victim and bringing her to a simultaneous orgasm of mind-shattering power. And when it is over, the young woman slumps in surrender, understanding for the first time that this man has now gained complete control over both her body and her mind. All that is left to her now is to speculate in fear as to what exactly he plans to do with them…
Sierra couldn’t believe how she gotten herself into this, but then again, she had no control over it. Lying in bed naked, she is held close as he fondles her breast for a little while and tells her about her future.
He is speaking softly to his small frame, black haired girl he just acquired that afternoon. “As promised, I plan to employ you as my maid. And you will cook and clean for me, working twenty-four hours and seven days a week and anything else I require from you.” He spoke harshly while instructing her to kneel on the floor naked.
Walking over to his nightstand, he grabs a light pink leather collar and then returns to his sweet little 4’11” girl, then says, “With this collar I mark you as my maid, Sierra!” He buckles the collar around her tiny neck. “Great. Perfect fit.” Not speaking to Sierra in particular, as if she wasn’t there, he strokes the back of her shivering head.
He looks down at her as Sierra bows her head, casting her eyes down. “You will wear what I tell you. The same for eating, sleeping, and while working for me. You will refer to me as Master!”
When they finished, Sierra was led to another room down the hall from her Master’s bedroom. This room was made up like a little girl’s room, with pink walls and lacy curtains, with silver bars on the window. And along the far wall was a large pet bed in the corner.
Next to the closet was a tall, straight-back wooden chair. The closet doors were open, and the closet was full of little girls’ dresses. Lots of frills, lace, trim and ribbons, all pink. And short-trim black french maid uniforms with short skirts, which would fit Sierra perfectly.
“Time to get some rest, girl. Go over to your little bed and go to sleep.” He watches her helplessly obey his words as she curls up into her pet bed, wearing nothing but her new collar. “Tomorrow is a new day and we will begin your strict training!” he says to her, watching as she falls asleep. He closes the door to his little maid’s bedroom.
Months turned into a year since Sierra was captured and trained to become her Master’s sexual Maid.
After all those months of listening to subliminal messages and undergoing hypnosis, Sierra found her place serving her Master at his side.
The story you’ve read is fictional, but the fact that you could use Dream Girls subliminal messages to train yourself a loving Maid could be a reality.
Written by Trainer81