Owning Professor Ballard Pt. 09

***WARNING: NON-CONSENSUAL FUCKERY AHEAD***

This story contains elements of coercion, blackmail and body modification in the context of heavy BDSM. Daphne is hereby acknowledged to be a narcissistic sociopath at best or a functional psychotic at worst. I want to portray her as a monster, so don't be surprised when she does monstrous things. Nobody should do any of this stuff to anybody in real life. Now, let the depravity begin.

*****

Daphne sighed in exasperation and stopped dialing. She put the phone down on the nightstand and looked up, a flicker of annoyance flashing across her pretty face. This wouldn't do at all. How could she make such an important call with all that racket going on in the background?

Both Daphne and her slave were nude, the girl just having finished servicing her mistress' pussy with her well-trained tongue. Daphne leaned back against the head board and regarded her slave in the slanting morning light. For several seconds she studied the girl with cool, clinical detachment, a cruel smile playing across her full lips.

The pretty nineteen year-old English major was currently humping herself furiously against the top of Daphne's right foot. She was really going at it, rutting frantically, her thick labial rings jangling jauntily as they danced beneath her. The slave's large breasts were also bouncing up and down merrily, the thick nipple rings tugging and stretching the already distended nipples. The thick black collar with the over-sized red name tag emblazoned with "CUNT" was also jingling in rhythm with the slave's movements. The slave was alternatively mewling and grunting with exertion.

Daphne leaned in and looked more closely at the fleshy interface of cunt and foot. She was gratified to see a good amount of her slave's effluent already coating the curved surface of her foot. She kept the girl in a constant state of arousal by having her edge herself to the brink of orgasm dozens of times per day, but she rarely allowed her actual release. It had been months since the her last orgasm.

Daphne could see that the slave was close now. She was panting loudly, her nostrils flaring like a rearing horse. There was a red flush creeping across her throat and upper chest.

Daphne wavered for a few more seconds, wondering idly if she should actually let the poor girl climax this time, then shook her head dismissively.

She had a call to make.

She snapped her fingers twice.

The girl immediately froze. She stayed perfectly still for several seconds, then her shoulders visibly sagged.

"You were making too much noise, cunt," said Daphne stiffly. ''Better luck next time. Clean up your goo, then go do your special exercises, dear," she added curtly.

With a look of profound disappointment, the slave slowly dismounted Daphne's foot. She pivoted on her knees, then leaned in to lick her Mistress' foot clean. She worked quickly and methodically, flattening her tongue against Daphne's smooth flesh. When the top of the foot was clean, the slave reverently lifted the foot slightly, then curled her neck and leaned in to lick the arch and suck the heel. Finally, she suckled each toe individually, making sure to carefully run her tongue between each digit.

When she was done, the slave slid off the bed on to her knees. She crawled to nightstand and opened the top drawer, glancing up at her mistress gloomily.

Daphne looked down at her slave imperiously, savoring the naked dread radiating from the girl's eyes.

"I think four knochs today," chirped Daphne playfully. "Really give it a good work-out."

The slave's eyes widened, then glazed over in weary resignation. She reached slowly in to the drawer and pulled out the first of the heavy lead fishing sinkers, dropping it on the floor with a hollow thunk. She repeated the process three times, lining up the egg sinkers neatly between her knees. Each one of the dull gray sinkers weighed twenty-eight ounces. She also pulled out a heavy steel carabiner and a one-foot length of medium gauge steel chain.

Daphne did some quick math in her head as she watched her slave in bemused silence. Including the carabiner and the chain, the slut would be pulling close to ten pounds today.

A new record.

The slave squatted at the bedside and expertly slotted the heavy carabiner through all six of her labial rings, then she clipped on the chain, closing the catch with a metallic snick. Finally she reached down and secured each sinker to the chain using the wire leaders attached to each.

When she was finished, the slave closed the drawer carefully and crawled slowly to her corner, the chain and weights dragging loudly on the hardwood floor beneath and behind her. When she reached her appointed spot, she stood on wobbly legs, wincing as the chain suddenly tautened beneath her. Biting her lip, she slowly widened her stance in several awkward mincing hops until her feet were slightly more than shoulder width apart, then laced her hands behind her head.

The chain dangled freely between her legs, swinging slowly past her knees, the four weights hanging like over-ripened fruit on a vine. The slave paused for a moment to fortify herself, then looked over at her mistress.

Daphne looked at her watch, then snapped her fingers.

The slave immediately began to gyrate her hips rhythmically, as if using a hula hoop. The chain and weights began to rotate clockwise beneath her in a circular motion. This had the intended effect of markedly increasing the torque and strain on her delicate labia.

The slave was required to "dangle" in this manner for at least thirty minutes each day.

Her special exercises.

Daphne always pierced the inner labia of her slaves. The delicate inner labia were much more pliable than the thicker outer lips, much easier to stretch.

To transform.

Daphne hopped off the bed and walked over to her slave. She leaned down and examined the girl's crotch. The young mistress swelled with pride as she regarded her current slave's most intimate anatomy. She noted that the girl's delicate lips, plump and dainty when she first acquired her, were now stretched and misshapen. Under tension, they hung a full eight inches below the vertex of the her thighs.

Daphne stood up straight and stifled back a giggle. She delighted in the new fleshy appendages she had wrought. Long after she tossed the girl aside, the grotesque contours of her vagina would be an ongoing source of humiliation and despair, a living, tactile reminder of her submission to Daphne. No matter what the slave might accomplish later in life, every time she wiped herself when she peed, she would think of her former mistress. To Daphne, a confirmed narcissist, the concept that her dark and malevolent imprimatur would live on, woven into the girl's most intimate flesh for the rest of her life was intoxicating.

But achieving such good results was hard work.

After only a few seconds, the slave began to grunt in pain. The weight was almost unbearable, impossibly heavy. She began breathing loudly through her mouth, then began to cry softly.

Daphne beamed at her slave, her eyes alight with lust. She reached out and gently caressed the slave's left cheek with the back of her right hand.

''That's a good girl, cunt," she soothed. "I love you like this. Suffering. You are pleasing me. Only twenty nine minutes to go. You can do it, sweetie."

Daphne pulled her hand away from the slave's cheek, noting that the back was wet with the her tears. She looked into the girl's eyes and slowly licked up the salty droplets, grinning wolfishly when she was done.

The student began to sob uncontrollably, her breath coming in great shuddering gasps. Daphne re-arranged her facial muscles into an expression she hoped resembled empathy for a few seconds, then turned away dismissively.

Daphne walked back to the bed. She sat on the edge of the mattress and picked up the phone from the nightstand.

From the corner, there came a low, guttural howl of despair which ascended into a high-pitched shriek of pure, unalloyed agony.

Daphne scowled at her slave in annoyance. She put down her phone and bounded off the bed. Her eyes darted around the room until she spotted yesterday's panties. She picked up the frilly thong redolent with her musk and approached her slave. Wadding them up into a tight ball she stuffed the panties into her slave's mouth.

"Do you mind, cunt," she snapped irritably. "I'm trying to make a phone call here. Keep it down, or you'll get the whipping of your life when you're done."

The slave quickly stifled her sobs, but her shoulders continued to hitch up and down rhythmically as she cried on in complete silence. She had mastered the skill long ago.

The weights spun and danced beneath her.

Daphne ignored her and crossed her legs on the edge of the bed. She opened the phone's keypad dialed a familiar number.

***

Across town, in a nondescript college dormitory room, two sophomore students were engaged in a familiar morning ritual.

Penelope Paine adjusted herself on her roommate's face, then settled back down on to her lively tongue. She had already had two gushing orgasms this morning and was impatiently awaiting a third. The slave provided her mistress with three orgasms every morning. No exceptions.

The young mistress glanced down. Only the lower half of the the girl's face was visible, her jaw muscles bunching with effort as she worked her mouth and tongue frantically beneath Penelope's tender flesh. Her chin and lower lip were already glazed with the young mistress' drippings.

Penelope let her gaze wander idly around the room. The cheap particle-board furniture looked particularly depressing in the morning gloom. Even though the room was technically a double, the young mistress was currently squatting on the only single bed, the slave's bed having been removed months ago. There was a threadbare blanket in the corner where the girl currently curled up at night.

Penelope sighed and wriggled her pelvis almost daintily, savoring the familiar tickling sensation of the slave's nose brushing against her delicate rosebud, then resettled herself on her perch with perfect, practiced equipoise. She was facing the slave's feet, the girl's legs splayed out before her.

"Good girl," Penelope cooed. "That's it. Let me feel that tongue go deep. All the way in, pudge."

Penelope felt the slave respond immediately, her tongue darting upward and inward, wriggling like a living thing.

Such a good slave.

Penelope smiled, thinking of the day she had claimed and named her. It had been the beginning of second semester of freshman year. Her first roommate had been abruptly pulled from college by her Mormon parents when they found out Penelope had seduced her and was passing her around to the other girls in the dorm. Her new roommate, randomly assigned, had turned out to be a pretty farm girl from Nebraska.

Her name was Nadine. She was a straight-laced petit little thing with a cute, pixie face, ginger hair and just a hint of baby fat around her belly and hips. She had milky white skin and full breasts. She was a nice enough girl, her only annoying quality being that she talked constantly about her long-term boyfriend who was going to school in another state.

Penelope hadn't planned on enslaving the girl. It had just happened.

The first week of class, Penelope had caught the naive girl ogling her body surreptitiously after she got out of the shower. She tried to look away, but Penelope had caught her out. It was not the first time it had happened since they had moved in together.

Penelope didn't mind. Not at all.

The young mistress had simply turned around and locked the door, then let the towel fall to the floor. She stood naked in the middle of the room and faced her new roommate.

Penelope Paine was a stunning brunette with high cheekbones, straight white teeth and full lips. She had piercing blue over-sized eyes. She stood five feet, seven inches tall and weighed one hundred and fifteen pounds. Her breasts were large and firm, her stomach flat. Her legs were lean and lithe. She wore her long raven hair in a pony tail down her back. She kept her pubic hair completely shorn.

But the most distinctive part of her appearance below the waist, the thing that her roommate had been stealing furtive glances at all week, was her tattoo. She had a large yellow chrysanthemum inked upon her bare vulva. It was a beautiful piece of work. Pudge had also been stealing glances at her tramp-stamp, a much more crudely executed series of black swirls and waves on her lower back.

Penelope was not what you would call a nice girl. She was crude and vulgar and a bit of a spoiled brat. She was hyper-sexual and domineering in bed. Her own pleasure always came first.

In high school, Penelope could have had her pick of boyfriends had she been so inclined. The boys had been constantly chasing her and generally making a nuisance of themselves ever since she had hit puberty.

As it happened, however, Penelope Paine liked girls.

Lots of girls.

Her sexual appetite was voracious for one so young. By the time she arrived at college, Penelope was a seasoned connoisseur of women. Her conquests had included wholesome cheerleaders, frumpy teachers, preppy soccer moms and happily married wives of a certain age. Penelope only engaged with straight women. She loved the look in their eyes when they finally surrendered and crawled between her legs. Penelope had left quite a motley crew of jilted, but very satisfied lovers behind when she shipped off to college.

The straight Nebraska farm girl never stood a chance.

Penelope had stood nude in the center of the dorm room, without a hint of self-consciousness. She flipped her hair back and regarded the flustered farm girl.

"You want to see my pussy, pudge?" Penelope asked mildly.

The name had just popped into her mind unbidden.

The shy girl just stood there, gaping. Penelope took a step forward.

'Aren't my lips pretty?" she added, smiling coquettishly, placing her hands on her hips.

The girl just continued to stare at her, speechless.

Penelope looked down at her vulva and began fingering the edges of her tattoo with her right hand.

"Or is it my tattoo? You want a closer look?" she asked innocently. "When you eat my pussy, your eyes will be right up next to it. You can count the petals while you lick."

The girl stood like a statue, paralyzed with fear.

Penelope took another step forward. Her roommate retreated until the back of her legs bumped up against the dresser.

"Well, pudge, do you want to eat my pussy or not," she asked icily.

The roommate looked frantic now, her eyes darting around the room wildly. Her hands reached backward and found the closed drawers of the dresser. Nowhere to run.

Penelope walked up to her and cupped the smaller girl's chin with her right hand, tilting her gaze upward until their eyes met.

"I asked you a question, pudge," she said evenly, staring straight into her roommate's eyes.

The girl had begun to shake then, just a fine little tremor, but Penelope had caught it. That's when she knew she had her.

The poor dear's lips were actually trembling when she finally found her voice.

"I'm...I'm...not..." she had stammered.

"Hush, pudge," Penelope said gently, putting the tip of her left index finger to the girl's lips. "You're nothing yet, silly. You've been nothing your whole life, but you are going to be my little pussy slave aren't you?"

"No. I mean I'm not..."

"Shhh," Penelope had calmed her. "I know what you are, pudge. Be still."

Penelope removed her left index finger from the girl's lips and brought it down to her own glistening pussy.

Turning a new girl always made her wet.

There was an audible sloshing sound as Penelope plunged the finger deep inside herself, then began to slide it in and out slowly. Pudge tried to look away, but Penelope held her chin firmly, continuing to stare in to the girl's eyes.

"My pussy is the sweetest thing you'll ever taste, pudge," she said huskily. "Don't you hear it, pudge? It's getting all squishy for you. It's calling you, pudge."

There was another liquid plop as she withdrew her finger. She raised it up in front of pudge's face. The digit was gleaming in the soft morning light, coated with Penelope's essence.

Penelope let go of her roommate's chin. The girl didn't move.

"Open," said Penelope sternly, some edge in her voice now.

Pudge stared back at her for several beats, her eyes sparking with a hint of defiance, then a look of almost imperceptible acquiescence passed between them. They both knew who was in charge now. Why fight it?

The farm girl closed her eyes and opened her mouth slowly.

Penelope inserted her finger into her roommate's mouth and left it there.

"Look at me, pudge."

The girl's eyes popped open and stared at Penelope over the finger in her mouth.

"Suck."

The girl hesitated for a moment, then began to suck Penelope's finger.

"How does it taste, pudge?"

The girl interrupted her suckling.

"Good," she said softly, then attempted a wan smile.

Penelope smiled back, her eyes glinting cruelly, then slapped the girl's left cheek with her right hand. Hard.

"I didn't tell you to stop did I, cunt?" Penelope snapped.

The frightened farm girl flinched, her left hand rising reflexively to cover her stinging cheek. A single teardrop fell from her left eye.

Penelope raised her finger again.

The girl stared at Penelope for several seconds, then her eyes cut away and she looked at the finger in front of her face. She opened her mouth and engulfed it slowly. She began to suck and lick the digit more enthusiastically.

Penelope watched pudge for a full minute, saying nothing. When she spoke, her voice was cold and firm.

"I own you now, pudge," she said coldly. "You will address me as mistress when we are alone. Understood?"

The girl answered around the finger in her mouth, now fearful of stopping even for a second.

"Yeth...mithress," the slave slurred.

Penelope smiled.

"I expect total obedience, pudge. If you falter, you will be punished."

"Yeth...mithress," she answered again, softly.

"Good girl, pudge. Now it's time for your reward."

Penelope withdrew her finger, wiping it casually on both of pudge's cheeks, then walked slowly over to the bed, her hips swaying lasciviously in the soft morning light. She sat down regally on the edge of the mattress and spread her legs.

"Strip," she commanded firmly. "Then come over here and get acquainted with my pretty pussy."

Pudge hesitated for only a second or two, then began undoing her blouse, her fingers fumbling at the buttons. In a moment, she was completely naked. She began to walk over to the bed.

"On your knees, pudge. Crawl to me," ordered Penelope.

Pudge got down on her knees and looked over at her new mistress. For a moment, she seemed to waver, looking a bit disoriented, as if waking from a dream.

Penelope snapped her fingers.

"Move it, cunt," she barked.

Pudge flinched, then fell forward on to her hands and knees and began to crawl...

That had been almost eighteen months ago.

Penelope snapped out of her reverie and looked back down at pudge's body sprawled out before her.

Nadine from Nebraska wasn't pudgy anymore, that was for sure. Penelope had literally whipped the slave into shape. The baby fat that had earned her her pet name was long gone. Now, she was ripped, lithe and hard-bodied.

She was also pierced, tattooed and permanently hairless below the neck.

Penelope reached down and hooked both index fingers through the thick steel nipple rings adorning the girl's breasts and gave them a gentle tug, like a rider slowly reining in a skittish horse.