The Art of Submission
By Helotage
Chapter 8: The Longest Day
Mollie had errands to run and chores to do. She did her laundry in the basement of her building along with a few other residents. There was a guy she often saw there who was always trying to chat her up, so she was sure to wear tiny running shorts and a tight white tee-shirt to do her laundry. Her tits were more on display with no bra. The guy she was hoping to see was not there, but there was a woman about her age who seemed most offended by Mollie’s look and glared at her with contempt and scorn, which Mollie realized she was enjoying. She was becoming a masochistic slut.
A middle-aged white guy with thin hair and a sagging gut was down there with his laundry as well. She knew that he was recently divorced and had a reputation for hitting on young women too aggressively. When everyone else had left, Mollie sauntered slowly over to him, stood close, looked up into his eyes, and then fell to her knees in front of him. He jumped a little. “What the hell are you doing?” She cast her eyes down submissively from her prone position and replied, “what do you want me to do?” This man who had embarrassed countless women in the building with his unwelcome propositions looked about befuddled. He nervously backed away, grabbed his laundry bag, and muttered, “you’re crazy” as he headed out the door. Mollie knelt there silently with her head down as others cycled in and out until the bell rang on her drier.
Mollie wore the same outfit to go shopping. Lots of people stared and leered at her, but no one approached. It was weird. Here was an attractive young woman just about begging to be used, and everyone seemed put off. Cowards!
Maybe wearing the iron collar was a bit much. Cowards.
After a naked lunch from her bowls on the floor, she decided to take another excursion to where she might be more appreciated. She walked to the antique store where she had purchased the sculpture, this time in the same tee shirt and shorts but without the iron collar. A full morning of public gawking and disdain was enough although she figured the look would be welcome in the store.
The statuesque woman was there helping other customers. Roger approached Mollie. “Back for more rare items? Can I help you?”
Mollie asked him about possible special properties of the sculpture. At first he acted confused and tried to evade the question, but then he admitted that it affected some people profoundly. Others had less intense experiences, almost none at all. He himself had some mild reactions, which is why he wore gloves and wrapped the sculpture before picking it up to be crated. “She,” he declared affectedly, indicating the tall woman, “doesn’t seem to be entranced at all.”
Just then, the woman came over to Mollie. “You’re back! What a surprise,” she added sarcastically. “I figured we would see you but just not so soon. Are you content with the sculpture you purchase? Is it everything you dreamed?” She emphasized the last word for effect. Mollie got it.
“I was hoping to check out more of your special collection.”
“Of course.” The woman had on black leather pants and a black satin blouse daringly open. She had no bra, and her breasts jutted obscenely. It was a hot look. Her shoes were high heels, not quite as daring as the stiletto boots. She turned to lead Mollie to the secret room, and Mollie found herself staring at the woman’s shapely ass encased in supple leather. She had never stared lustfully at another woman’s ass before.
As they entered, the woman asked what Mollie might be looking for.
“I don’t know. I saw last Sunday that you had some outfits. I was hoping for something leather and, you know. And I love the iron collar, by the way. Thank you. But I was hoping for something to wear out that is not so, well, so.
The woman laughed mirthlessly and opened a drawer in a cabinet. Inside was a twist of leather garments. Mollie did not even know what she was looking at. The woman confidently reached in and selected a soft black leather bra top and matching bikini bottom. “This outfit will fit you just fine. You can’t go swimming in it of course, but you won’t want to.” She then lifted a black leather collar from the wall. It was much thinner than the iron one and had silver studs all around it. There was no buckle, but it had some sort of locking mechanism. The woman held it in front of Mollie as if checking the size and then deftly slipped it around her neck and under her hair to lock it behind. It fit perfectly.
“There you go, Mollie. Just what you need.” She tugged the little ring dangling in front.
Mollie looked surprised. “How do you know my name?”
The woman scoffed. “The sculpture told me, of course.” The shocked look on Mollie’s face betrayed all her emotion. The woman chuckled. “You used a credit card to make your purchase. I took an interest in you. That’s how I know your name.”
Mollie flushed with embarrassment as the woman carried her leather outfit to the counter to ring up. Mollie was still wearing the collar. The items were expensive. Mollie could not keep this up if she wanted to pay rent, but she charged them anyway. “Think of it this way,” the woman advised. “Maybe you are making an investment in who you have really been all along.”
As Mollie was preparing to leave, the woman said boldly, “I would love to see you in that outfit.” Mollie’s heart skipped a beat. The woman added, “come back tomorrow when it is quieter. Sundays are more appropriate anyway, don’t you think?”
Mollie’s two encounters with the woman in black had left her lightheaded, but she didn’t even know the woman’s name. Mollie wore her new collar as she walked home. Some people openly stared, but all Mollie cared about was what was in the bag. As soon as she got home, she stripped and put on her new outfit. The woman was right. It fit perfectly. Mollie set up her phone to take some more photos.
When she had taken all the angles she could manage, she went over to the sculpture, knelt, and placed her hands on it.
The two women handed her over to the man with the whip and left. There was no sign of the others. Her body was throbbing in pain and pleasure as the man grabbed her iron collar to pull her close. Again in French that she could somehow understand the man whispered, “now you know your true nature.” Mollie cast her eyes down and nodded. The man walked around her naked body, inspecting her. “You arrived here with a beautiful body and lovely alabaster skin,” he said, “but your flesh looks best covered in welts and bruises and cuts. With my whip I have sculpted your body into an even more appealing form.”
Mollie stared at the floor, luxuriating in the shame. Her body was shivering with anticipation, and her mind was slipping into a state of permanent servitude. She knew it. She just needed a small nudge to embrace eternal sexual slavery. “What do you want from me, my master?” She hardly recognized her own voice. It was so tiny, so broken, so desirous.
The man gripped her small face in one strong hand and pulled it toward him. “I want you to get me another, someone who is very close to you.” Mollie would not disobey. She knew then her mind had been broken just as surely as her body had been. Her master was in full control. He owned her body and her will.
“Your wish is my command, master, but how should I find another? How will I know who will please you most?” She thought of some of her friends. There were some hotties in her group. Guys always flocked around Bonnie with those huge tits and pretty face. Cindy still had an athlete’s body from her days in college track and field. She was gorgeous and sexy, full Sicilian with olive skin and black hair. She had seen Cindy naked in the gym shower many times with no arousal. Now she was overcome with lust at the memories. Which friend should she bring her master?
“You will know,” was all he said.
She was kneeling in front of the sculpture again. That was the first waking dream that did not involve sex or rape or torture. She had had a conversation. That is all. In some ways it was even more erotic and depraved than the other times. She would betray a friend into sexual slavery. She slipped a hand into her supple leather bikini bottom and masturbated thinking of Cindy’s naked, wet body until she came.