Dear reader, when we last looked in on Marjorie she found herself dressed in latex, and locked in a collar, pretending to be a slave for her father. Yes, I know that sounds strange, but please read part one for a full explanation of how she found herself in this predicament.

So I am pleased to inform you that nearly everything else ran smoothly on that first day. Marjorie found she enjoyed talking to the customers. They were asking about things she had tried on and so she felt she could give honest answers. Even the few obvious letches were easy to deal with. The staff all turned out to be really nice. But then she was sure they had all decided to treat her as the bosses wife and ignore the collar and leash stuff.

The only fly in the ointment came after lunch when her dad joined her in the office. She slipped up and started to call him dad once more. There were no staff in the office but he was incensed.

"Marjorie, we have committed to a lie. You assured me you could keep this up but that's twice today you have slipped."

"I'm sorry, but it's harder than I thought." Marjorie was quietly panicking that she may have committed herself to Hell by letting him down, but she could not share that.

"Okay, it must be hard to think about so let's make it second nature. From now on I only ever want you to call me Master. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," Marjorie glumly replied.

"Even at home. All the time, is that clear?"

"Yes, Master, I understand. From now on that is all I call you."

Marjorie continued to worry that she may have condemned herself to Hell and spent the rest of the day fretting. Eventually, just before the working day was over, she came to the conclusion that since she had not deliberately refused or disobeyed she was probably in the clear.

As they drove home her dad broke in upon the thoughts of his daughter.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you today."

"That's alright, Master, I made a mistake. You had the right to be vexed with me."

"That may be so but it's you that are having to make all the sacrifices for my business."

"It's our business, Master. I agreed from the start to help. Plus it's not your fault we are in this situation. Things just sort of happened."

"Thank you for saying so, Marjorie. But it's still you calling me Master with a collar around your throat. I know that must be tough. I'm finding it pretty jarring to have my daughter call me Master."

"We'll get used to it, Master."

"Perhaps, if the business grows, we'll be able to hire a lifestyler to replace you."

"I think that would be ideal but can't think how you would go about it, Master."

"Me neither, dear. I've been thinking more on this and I'm afraid I think it needs to get a bit worse too."

"How, so, Master?" Marjorie was fairly certain the leash was bad enough. How much worse could it get?

"Well, the girls at work think you and I are a couple into BDSM. That you are my lifestyle slave."

"I know, Master."

"So we have to behave like lovers. Lovers into kinky shit."

"Ewe! Really, Master? What were you thinking of?"

"Well, I'm gratified with all the 'Masters' you are dropping. But I think we'll need to engage in some kinky PDA's or our cover will be blown."

"Kinky PDA's, Master?"

"You're playing the part of my sex slave, Marjorie. A little sitting on my lap, acting as if you enjoy it if I spank you, kissing. Nothing overtly sexual, but flirtatious stuff that fits in with work. I mean we are supposed to be a couple who have started a business based on our sex lives. We ought to act as if we are in love."

"I do love you... Master. Just not in a physical way."

"I understand. I'm just asking you to act like you are my slave. Just get into the role a bit more."

"I think I understand, Master," replied Marjorie. Hesitantly she lent across and kissed her dad's cheek. "Love you, Master," she declared.

"I love you too, slave," responded her dad smiling.

"Master, are we doing this at home too?"

"Given how you slipped up with calling me Master I think we need to. Just until it becomes second nature, love."

"Yes, Master," responded a glum Marjorie.

"I think too we need to do some other things at home too, to cover ourselves."

"Such as, Master?"

"Well, we better build a dungeon or playroom in case of visitors. Also, until you've perfected your role, some lifestyle changes too."

"What sort of changes, Master?" This was rapidly getting out of hand. But robbed of the ability to object by Satan there was little she could do.

"I don't know yet. I'll need to do some research on the internet this evening. But, if we live the role for a bit, if you get asked any questions at work, or elsewhere, your answers will be quick and convincing."

"Yes, Master," answered Marjorie.

Later that evening, dear reader, Marjorie's father approached her with a sheet of rules.

"Marjorie, I've done a fair bit of research on the net about lifestyle BDSM. So I want you to follow these rules from now on, please," he said handing them over. Marjorie quickly read them through.


1; You will only address me as Master from now on. You will not use my name unless asked what it is.

2; You will dress in your rubber and PVC gear exclusively. Each morning before dressing you will ask me if I have a preferred outfit. If I state a preference you will wear that for the day. If you want to wear any of your other outfits, at any time, you must ask my permission first.

3; Except for your office chair at work you are not to use furniture. If you need to rest you may kneel* on the floor. Otherwise, you will stand.

4; You will sleep on the floor at the foot of my bed at night. You may make up some bedding to sleep in. You will be chained by your collar to the bed.

5; In the morning and evenings you are solely responsible for preparing all the meals and cleaning up afterwards.  At weekends you will clean the house, do any shopping necessary and do the laundry. The weekend chores will be done wearing a latex maid uniform.**

6; Discipline for transgressions at home or work will be metered out at home on Sunday evenings. It is your responsibility to keep track of all or any punishments awarded.

*You will be taught the correct way to kneel. Once taught you will always kneel this way and assume no other position unless ordered to by your Master.

**You will be provided with a uniform and a latex mac to wear over it when you go out shopping.

Marjorie read down the list in horror. Never, when she had signed Satan's contract, did she envisage her father making such demands. But she could not refuse. Appalling as these new rules were they were nowhere near as bad as being continuously eviscerated with a chainsaw.

Trying to keep any emotion out of her voice she asked, "Discipline for transgressions, Master?"

"We're supposed to be into BDSM remember? So I'll make up petty excuses to punish you. It'll fit with who we are pretending to be. You're going to need to sport the odd bruise or welt. If you don't rock up to work with marks from a spanking or suchlike no one will believe us."

"So you're going to beat me, Master?"

"We are not really going to scene, Marjorie. But yes, the odd crop or whip mark would give the lie more authenticity."

"I see, umm, so how do I kneel then, Master?" Marjorie was aghast at this turn of events but could think of no way to discourage her dad.

"Well get on your knees then." Reluctantly Marjorie knelt in front of her father. "Okay, Marge, spread your knees. According to the websites I've visited slaves do not kneel with their knees together." Hesitantly she obeyed.

"Spread them further, girl. Yes, that's better. Now, unbelievably you are somehow slouching in a corset. Sit straighter. Good, now shoulders back. Better. I want you to cross your wrists behind you now, Marge. That's the idea. Now hold your head up but I want you to fix your gaze upon the floor between your knees. Good girl. Now that is the position I want you to adopt if ever I command you to kneel. Is that clear, slave?"

"Yes, Master," responded a forlorn Marjorie. Despite her best efforts, she started to sob. This was just too much. It was clear now what Satan's trick was now. A future as a sex slave loomed. Worse her master was her very own dad. She had been so stupid to think she could beat Satan.

"Hey, hey, Marjorie. Please don't cry. If this is too much just say the word. We can scrap this business and try something else."

Cold fear struck Marjorie's heart. The rules were clear, she could deny her father nothing. If she didn't pull herself together, an eternity in hell awaited her.

"Master, no. Please, I am happy to continue. The business is doing brilliantly. I don't want you to stop. Certainly not on my account. It just it's been a lot to take in. A bit of a shock."

"Are you sure, love?"

"Yes, Master," Marge forced out a smile for her dad. "You are so right about everything. This will work out. If we live it like this at home, well... As you say, we'll be more convincing if I ever get quizzed at work. I'm sure once the newness wears off at work those girls will have loads of questions."

"Okay, hmm, get up off the floor and give your dad a hug then, love," her dad smiled down at her.

Marge stood and hugged her dad, burying her face in his shoulder to hide the fresh tears.

Dear reader, it saddens me to tell you Marjorie's father, encouraged by his daughters' words held her to them. The collar stayed in place and that night Marjorie slept at the foot of his bed. Albeit wrapped in a duvet and her head resting on a feather pillow. However, there was a heavy chain padlocked to her collar as if she were a sex toy kept close in case of need.

Acting as her father's slave soon became second nature to Marjorie. The poor girl was not enjoying her slavery, but she quickly adapted. Each morning he would release the chain to her collar and she would set about her morning chores. It paid off as expected too. As soon the girls at work started asking questions of Marge had ready answers that were based on fact, not fantasy.

It was clear that the girls had differing opinions on Marjorie's apparent lifestyle. Sadie seemed especially interested and took time to quiz Marge during tea breaks. Joanne was curious too. Though more shy about asking direct questions. When she did though they were usually focused on what it was like to actually be a slave rather than the practicalities of day to day life. Jenny seemed amused by the whole thing. She often as not used whit to josh Marjorie over her apparent decision to become a slave to her lover.

The visible welts and bruises were noted too. The staff quickly picked up on the fact new welts were most likely to be visible on a Monday, and Marjorie was often teased for being 'naughty' over the weekend.

Marjorie was fairly miserable at the turn of events but worked hard at keeping her true feelings hidden. It had never occurred to her that her own father would treat her like this. Satan had tricked her and she had been the perfect fool. Blinded by greed she had been reduced to a slave.

Marjorie would lay on the floor at night, wrapped in her duvet, and wonder what else could go wrong. She wasn't totally without reason to expect things to deteriorate. Two days after her first night on the floor, her dad had presented her with a set of black satin pyjamas to replace the fleecy pair she had been wearing. Then at work, the regular office chair was replaced with a kneeler chair. The sort aimed at people concerned about their posture. Thus she never got to sit normally thereafter.

Each day her dad had chosen one of the kinkiest outfits Satan had provided her, along with her new sexy body. It was clear to Marjorie that this had been Satan's plan all along.

So Marjorie started assuming the worst and unfortunately was rarely surprised. The shopping trips were Hell. Well, obviously not as bad as 'real' Hell. But certainly no picknick either. Dressed as a latex maid in a rubber trenchcoat with a steel collar locked around her throat. The sneers and giggles, the contemptuous looks from the women and the leering stares from the men. She'd taken to using a patent leather handbag with a large aerosol of mace concealed within along with her purse.

Dear Reader, poor Marjorie was right to fear a downturn in her situation. It got rapidly worse after the small business had been trading for three months. Though the first sign of things getting worse happened at home.

Bent over and grasping her ankles our heroine stoically braced for the blow from the riding crop her father wielded. Two vicious blows had landed so far and a third was promised. She hissed through her clenched teeth when it finally arrived.

"Well done, Marge," consoled her dad, "you took that well."

"Thank you, Master," responded Marjorie reflexively, standing up and twisting to examine the damage.

She was dressed in a short black latex dress and matching latex stockings. All three blows had landed across the rear of her thighs just below the hem of the dress and above the stockings. The welts would last for days and be on clear view for all to see if she wore a short skirt before they faded. Her dad, she was sure, would insist that she did. That disturbed her, though she knew it served the purpose of maintaining the illusion. What disturbed her more was the bulge in her dad's trousers when he whipped her. He never went further but she knew he enjoyed 'punishing' her.

"I've been thinking Marjorie. I'm thoroughly enjoying having you be my slave. I've not done a domestic chore in months, your cooking is excellent and, even if you are my daughter, you are very easy on the eye dressed in your fetish gear. However, I'm aware this must be hard on you. When I proposed the business plan I never dreamed of this situation. So as much as I don't want to, I'd be a liar if I didn't admit I love being waited on hand and foot, I think we can relax you serving me at home now. The guys at work fully accept you are my slave and you know what lies to tell to keep the pretence up."

Marjorie stared at her father in shock. Satan's words echoing in her head, "You may deny your father nothing." He didn't want to stop. He was doing so for her. But if that happened she was doomed to Hell.

"No, Master. You should not deny yourself. I am perfectly happy to continue as your slave." She could not believe the words had come from her own mouth. Suddenly she considered if she had slipped up by saying 'No, Master'. But no, he had said he did not want to stop, and she could deny him nothing.

"What? Really? Marge, you sobbed tears when I asked you to do this. I've been feeling terrible that I even asked. Now you want to keep at it? Explain yourself."

"Master, I cried because I did not know what it would be like," stalled Marjorie. She realised she was now going to have sell her own dad on the idea that she enjoyed being a slave. "The truth is... The truth is I like being a slave. Especially yours, Master. I like being told what to wear. I like what you make me wear too. I bought some of those clothes because I liked them. I couldn't think where I would have the courage to wear them. You fixed that for me, Master. I like serving you too. I like making you happy. I've noticed how much you have enjoyed me serving you. You appreciate the things I do for you. I'm as surprised to hear myself say it but I like being your slave as much as you enjoy my services," Marjorie tried a winning smile to add credibility to the lie.

"You really enjoy being my slave?"

"Yes, Master, I really do."

"Damn! Well, I never saw that coming." Her dad stared at his feet and absentmindedly ran his fingers through his hair. Looking up he asked, "Do you even enjoy the S&M bit too? Do you like being whipped?"

Marjorie's blood ran cold. She knew he did. She knew he would want this to continue too. She could not deny him. Checkmate to Satan. She was fucked.

"Yes, Master, I like it."

"If I asked you to go further, as a slave, you would be willing?"

"As it stands, Master, I see myself as your 'no limit' slave. If you ask me to do something I will do my best to follow your order."

"I'm still your dad, Marjorie. If I asked you to do something sexual, you would do that?"

Dearest gentle reader, Satan's plan was obvious to Marjorie at that moment. The totality of her doom washed over her. She was going to become her own father's fuck toy. It, at that moment, seemed inescapable. She had traded her oafish body for that of a sex siren. The price, the reality, was her new looks would enslave her to her dad. The devil's diabolical plan was indeed truly evil.

Being shown her fate in Hell had not been a clear and concise warning at all. It had been a crack of the whip behind her. It had been the driving force that had propelled her into this trap. For even fucking her own dad, also being his personal latex sex slave, was better than being hacked in half with a chain saw for eternity.

"Yes, Master, I would obey any order you gave me."

Her father stared hard at her. Then saying nothing abruptly turned and left the room.

Marjorie got on with her chores after that, leaving her father to brood. It was clear he was unhappy with how things were and the admission from his daughter. It was something Marjorie did not want to provoke. But later that evening as they sat down to eat the meal she had cooked her dad raised the subject once more.

"So you want to continue as my slave full time?"

"It keeps things simple, Master. We both enjoy it, it makes sense," answered Marjorie trying hard to sound convincing.

"I suppose I ought not to be surprised. You're wearing your own fetish gear. You've been parading around in collars since you were sixteen, plus all the piercings and tattoos as you got older. Hmm, I need you to help run the business, so I'll be your master for you, slave. But there are going to be changes going forward.

Hiding her incredulity at the way her dad was twisting things she responded with a simple, "Yes, Master."

"From now on discipline will be handed out in the playroom rather than the dining room. I may have furnished the room to add body to a lie. But if we are making the lie truth we ought to use the facilities don't you think?"

"Yes, Master," answered Marjorie once more. She was waiting for the sexual element. It hung in the air unsaid, a giant bull elephant in the room. She concentrated on her food waiting for her dad to continue.

"Marjorie, you know you look just like your mother when we first met."

"I do, Master?"

"Well, you're actually a wee bit fitter and you are dressed way more provocatively. But I see so much of her in you."

"You want me to replace her, Master?" She knew it was a mistake to say those words as soon as she uttered them. His face turned scarlet while his knuckles turned white as he gripped his cutlery in anger.

"Marjorie!" He bellowed.

"I'm sorry, Master," she blurted. "It's just... I see you're trousers bulge when you're whipping me. I can see it arouses you. I thought... Umm... I don't know what I thought. This whole thing is fucked up. I just want you happy. I want you to be happy, Master."

"I'm your dad, girl."

"You're a man. A lonely man. You've clearly been enjoying having me as a slave."

"I get urges, it's true. But I know what's right. Yes, I have been aroused. You in rubber, with your mum's eyes and smile. But I've not taken advantage of you. You're still my daughter, girl, even if my dick gets confused some times."

"Yes, Master."

"Which brings us to what you said. You see me differently?"

How could she answer this? Her deal with Satan loomed over everything. Things were so twisted. She had to navigate a moral path that did not land her in Hell, or break the contract. An action that would have the same effect. Despite what her dad had just said she was sure Satan wanted her to be her dad's sex slave for real.

"You ordered me to call you Master. Gave me rules to live by. Most who do these sorts of things are lovers. I now know what it's like to be a sex slave, except the sex bit. I know you are my dad. However, I feel that you are my Master. I obey your orders. I defer to you in all things. It's actually a nice way to be. Everything's simple. The clothes are fantastic. I feel loved and I hope you feel loved by me.

"I saw your arousal and assumed you'd want to act on it. If I was wrong I apologise. Master, I truly want you happy. Nothing makes me happier than fulfilling your every wish. I yearn to please you. I want nothing more than to sate your desires. I, as your slave, will obey any order. Any order. This is my oath to you. I trust you implicitly to do the best for me. I know you love me. This collar around my throat means you love me. When I say 'yes, Master' I'm saying I love you.

"You asked me a hard question. But the simple answer is I'll obey. Master, I will always obey."

"You really identify as my slave?"

"Yes, Master." She didn't of course but it would explain the slavish desire to obey. She was being forced to paint herself into a box.

"Marjorie I don't think I can make you happy as my slave. While I'm happy to be waited on, enforce the rules and such, you'll still be my daughter. It will only be an act."

"Master, just let me obey. Allow me to serve you. Let me fulfil your commands. You've been ill for so long. You are having a reprieve. Let me serve you and I'll be happy. I'll admit I did not know I would feel this way when you asked me to pretend to be your slave. But I genuinely enjoy this lifestyle."

"Well just remember if it gets too much you are allowed to say no."

"Master, I'll keep that in mind." 'But it's not you stopping me,' she silently added in her head.

Dear reader, the rest of the meal was consumed in silence and the slave, for that was how Marjorie now saw herself, was allowed to clear and wash up after.

As she washed the dishes she examined her reflection in the kitchen window. Would the collar around her throat ever be removed, she mused. Her dad clearly liked her dressed in latex. Was he going to keep her dressed this way permanently, or would he tire of it? It seemed a shame that just a few weeks after being given an amazing wardrobe, and the body to wear it, that she should be limited to just a few fetish outfits.

Whether his resolve would crumble was now her chief concern. He still saw her as his daughter. As long as he did she was probably safe. But the longer she served him dressed in latex with a collar around her throat... Would his memory of her as his daughter fade with time? She just did not know.

She looked down at the barcode tattoo on her hand. She had still been unable to log back into change the details. But now in hindsight at how things were working out, it was clearly a part of Satan's plan to turn her into an incestuous sex slave. She had been so naive to think she could outfox the devil himself.

The tag was still in place too. Nothing she had tried would cut the short silver chain from her hood to the tag. She had briefly toyed with cutting her flesh to remove the piercing. But, ultimately, she lacked the courage to do so.

Gentle reader, it saddens me to tell you that things deteriorate further for poor Marjorie. As she discovered at work the next day.

She and her dad had just settled into the office when Sadie entered and approached her father. Marjorie with no client online this early listened in to their conversation.

"Hi, Boss, could I have a word about some of the slower moving lines?" Sadie enquired.

"Of course, Sadie, what's the problem?"

"Well, I've been looking through things and the products that are underperforming all have one thing in common."

"Go on."

"It's all the stuff not actually modelled by Marjorie."

"Ahh, you mean the sex toys and the like?"

"Yes."

"Well, when I was shooting the stuff at the start of the business I didn't want the site to be too lewd. Yes, I know what we are selling, but there's a question of taste."

"I can see where you are coming from but I think some of the items could be modelled tastefully. If the correct camera angles are used. Implied nudity and implied intercourse. I agree that there need be nothing gratuitous."

"I'm really not sure Sadie," replied Marjorie's father as he nervously glanced over at her.

"Boss I'm quite a keen photographer myself. If I could borrow Marjorie and Joanne for two to three hours this afternoon I could show you what I can do?"

"You'll need the permission of both women."

"Okay... Umm, delicate question, given your lifestyle. Do I ask you or your slave."

"Silly me, quite right. She does as she's told."

"So I don't have to ask her, just Joanne?"

Marjorie silently cursed at this. Her dad had just painted himself into a corner. So more of her anatomy was going to be posted on the site. Plus she was probably about to be modelling all the things her dad had been too shy to make his daughter wear or use.

It actually got much worse as her father, perhaps trying to appear more dominant after the earlier slip, turned to his daughter.

"Slave, I want you to help Sadie in the studio. Be on your best behaviour. Obey every command Sadie gives you as if it were direct from me, do you understand."

"Yes, Master," retorted Marjorie hiding the cold fury she felt inside as she stared at the gloating face of Sadie. She was going to have to obey Sadie as if she were her Mistress and it was obvious the woman was plotting something.

"In fact go with her now. Log off on the customer care line it won't get busy until America wakes up. It'd be better if you do this thing now."

After acknowledging the command Marjorie made her way over to Sadie, who led her downstairs and over to the area of the shop floor that was Joanne's domain.

"Hey, Joanne, are you at a point you can break away and help me for a bit?" Asked Sadie.

"Sure, what do you need?"

"Marge and I are going to do some new product shots for the slow-moving items. See if we can't spark up some interest in them."

"Okay, what do you need me for?"

"Modelling if you are up for it. Boss was clear though, volunteer only."

"So I get to be famous like Marge? What would I be modelling again?"

"Mostly it'll be Marge doing the modelling. Will need you to help demonstrate those items that take two to use."

"So I'm going to be a dominatrix or a slave, like Marge?"

"Which would you prefer?"

"Slave."

"Let's go find you a collar then shall we?"

"Yes, Mistress," grinned back Joanne.

The three women went to the studio where Sadie took command.

"Okay, ladies I'm going to be switching between video and stills on the fly. So I'm going to need you to act and obey like slaves. Obviously, that's normal for you Marge but Joanne I will need you to call me Mistress when I give you instructions."

"That's cool," smiled the woman. "Do I get a nome de plume like Marge?"

"You do. Anything spring to mind? Keep it tasteful mind you, this is still the company site we'll be posting to."

"Umm, obviously I haven't given it much thought before. Marge, did your Master have any alternates before settling on Em?"

"Sorry Jo, if he did he didn't share them with me. But Toy, Pet or just Girl would do. They're demeaning without being lewd."

"You could call me Girl if you like?" Said Joanne to Sadie.

"Okay, Girl it is," acknowledged Sadie, "now you two strip naked while I go get the products we are going to be modelling.

Gentle reader, what followed was three hours of hard work. But Marjorie was aware of a significant difference to this shoot as opposed to the ones conducted with her father. Sadie seemed to relish the role of dominant almost as much as Joanne revelled in being a slave. She certainly reacted strongly to Sadie locking a collar around her throat. Thus while very few overtly sexual acts were performed an atmosphere of lust or sensuality infected the proceedings.

Unlike her father, Sadie wasted no time at all in placing nipple clamps upon her. Equally shots of butt plugs installed, up close were considered fair game, as Marge's face was not in the shot. In fact, Marge was fairly sure Sadie even made a video of Slave Girl inserting a butt plug into Slave Em's rosebud.

Girl was also equipped with a strap on harness and posed multiple times with different dildo's installed about to take Em.

While Marjorie had to trust that the pictures would meet with her dad's approval the poses and positions the two girls were put in were extremely intimate.

Aside from Joanne's obvious pleasure at being collared several other events stood out as significant to Marjorie. The first was Sadie's scrutiny of Marjorie's tattoo's. Especially the bar codes of which Marge was asked to explain. Ascertaining they did not actually scan properly, but threw up a password request, Sadie mumbled something about photoshop and carried on.

Then early in the shoot, Sadie discovered her reflection was visible in both slaves collars. She solved this by raiding the stores for a catsuit and a pair of thigh boots. With both girls acknowledging orders with submissive, "Yes, Mistress's," this only added to the sexual tension in the air.

Near the end of the shoot, Sadie broke out the steel chastity belts. Marjorie was locked into a custom item her dad had ordered but never locked her into. Joanne was locked into an adjustable item after a quick session with a spanner to adjust the fit. Luckily Marjorie was allowed to lock herself into her belt, and so the tag and genital piercings did not come under scrutiny.

After the shots needed had been taken Sadie did not remove the belts but moved on to shooting some items that secured the two slaves together. Eventually ending with a gag with two straps that held the girls in a forced gagged kiss.

Finally, happy she had all the shots she wanted she released the slaves from the gag and threw Joanne a small figure hugging latex dress.

"You can stay in the belt and collar until I'm sure I don't need to reshoot anything, Girl. Put the dress on and return to your department."

A grinning Joanne put on the dress and departed the studio with a, "Thank you, Mistress," thrown over her shoulder.

Sadie turned to Marjorie after the girl had departed, "You know, I don't think she'd be unhappy if I kept her locked up in that stuff."

"I think you are right, Mistress," agreed Marjorie. She was secretly delighted at this turn of events. Could Joanne be persuaded to replace her as the face of the company?

"Okay, Marge, let's get you ready before we go show your Master the raw pictures," instructed Sadie.

"Yes, Mistress," responded Marjorie knowing she had to obey. She quickly asked, "Do you want me dressed for the office, Mistress?"

"No, slave, I want you naked. I need to discuss those barcodes you have tattooed on you."

"Yes, Mistress," answered Marjorie. Uneasy at what that could mean and the ease at which Sadie had slipped into calling her slave. Added to that was how her dad would respond to Sadie as a dominatrix and his daughter nude bar a chastity belt.

Sadie then compounded on that by cuffing her wrists together behind her and attaching a leash to her collar.

"You know," stated Sadie, "when you and your Master arrived on the first day, and he led you in on a leash, I knew then I had to try it. Feels great to have you at my mercy. I can certainly see the appeal of owning a slave. I'm definitely going to see how far I can go with Joanne. But you... Your Master said you had to obey my every command. Do you have any limits?"

Fear gripped Marjorie's heart. What was she about to be ordered to do? "No, Mistress," she answered as she had to. Would the wannabe dominatrix take that as a green light?

"You'll do anything I say?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Kneel!" Marjorie dropped to her knees and adopted the position she had been taught.

"Wow! That's... That actually quite impressive. So you've been trained to kneel that way?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"If I ordered you to eat me out?"

"I would obey your order, Mistress."

"After which you'd go tell your Master what I made you do. I don't think so..." Sadie stared down at the kneeling slave. Clearly plotting something. "Tell me," she asked, "are you a literal or faithful slave?"

"I like to think I'm both, Mistress."

"Hmm. Does your owner sleep around or are you two monogamous?"

The question discombobulated Marjorie. She'd anticipated being ordered to do some sort of sex act for the woman. She actually had to think about the question.

"Master has the right to do as he pleases, Mistress. I, as his property, have to do as I'm told. As far as I know, he has slept with no one outside of our relationship since he collared me. I honestly do not know how he would react if I fucked someone else." Sadie did not need to know Marjorie's Master had not slept with her either. So far it looked like that was the only reason Marjorie's tongue was not buried in Sadie's snatch.

"Okay... So, hypothetically, if I ordered you to help me bed your Master, and not to tell him I had done so. What would you do?"

Marjorie's heart raced. What did she have to do? This moral maze was getting so complex. Her own dad, as her Master, had ordered her to obey Sadie's every command as if he had said it. Satan had said she would lose, and go to Hell if she denied her dad anything. She had to do exactly as Sadie commanded or else she would be deliberately disobeying her dad.

"Mistress, I would do exactly as you ordered me." Marjorie wondered as she spoke if there was a silver lining to this. With Sadie in dad's bed and Joanne possibly in a collar could she be free of the role of a slave?

"Really!" Grinned Sadie. "Okay then, I command you to help me bed your Master. I forbid you to tell him I ordered you to do so. I also forbid you to tell him that you are helping me or anything else to do with this. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress. I am your co-conspirator."

"Good girl, slave. So what does he like? How would you suggest I get his attention?"

"Mistress my Master has a latex fetish. He also gets turned on whipping or spanking me. Go up dressed as you are. If he is unhappy with any of the pictures, or with the way you've used me, suggest he punishes you. I can't promise you it'll work, but it'll certainly press some buttons."

"Yeah, I don't want to be a slave like you. Oooo, I know. We'll forget the barcodes for now. If we get you dressed so he does not know I've got you locked up. You can serve him enough drink to get him suggestable at home. When he goes to use you and finds he can't he'll call me over, for the key. I can turn up dressed to impress and join in in the fun you two were about to get up to."

Marjorie did not think the plan would work, given her dad did not fuck her. Which gave her problems. Sooner or later Sadie was going to raise the subject of her tattoos with her dad. Sadie was going to be pissed if her dad did not call Sadie over. Yet Marjorie could not tell her dad why she was belted and get him to do so. Plus she had to encourage her dad to invite the woman over, and get him sozzled because she had to obey Sadie's orders. There was one hope perhaps...

"Mistress, what if my Master sates himself with my mouth and demands the key tomorrow?"

"Well, it's up to you to act extra horny and in need of his cock. Make sure he is super turned on. Dress provocatively, get him boiling, wind him up. When I walk through your front door I want your Master gagging for pussy while yours is under lock and key. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mistress," capitulated Marjorie. She was clearly going to have to work fast to untangle this mess.

Sadie then had Marjorie dress in the clothes she had been wearing at the start of the day. A latex mini skirt and a snug off the shoulder woollen top. The only undergarment, a corset was replaced with a black PVC bra as the chastity belt was in the way.

Sadie remained dressed in the catsuit as they returned to the office. Marjorie returned to her desk silently, donning her headset but holding off logging in so she could hear how the pictures were received by her dad.

Sadie had to politely cough to draw attention to herself, Marjorie's father being engrossed in the file he was reading. Looking up his eyes nearly bugged out on stalks at the sight of Sadie clad in latex.

"Why are you dressed like that, Sadie?"

"Oh, I was showing up in reflections. Seemed easier to dress the part than commit to hours of retouching pictures."

"Oh, I see, very sensible."

"So do you want to look?"

"Now?"

"I could leave the memory card with you, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit I'm keen to see what you think. Besides, the girls are still ready to reshoot if you spot any errors..."

"Give me the card then and get a chair."

Sadie handed over the card from the camera and drew up a seat. A long period of silence followed in which the only sound was the sporadic click of a mouse. Eventually, Marjorie's father spoke.

"These close-ups are Marge or Jo?"

"All Marge, Sir, though the hands are Jo."

"I see."

"That's clever, I'd not thought of doing that... You know I'd forgotten we sold those."

"So far we haven't."

"Well, these pictures should change that."

"You like?"

"So far, very good. Oh, now that's worked very well."

"Thank you."

"You'll crop this bit out?"

"All these pictures are unedited. Obviously, I'll pick the best and clean them up before uploading them."

"Oh, the chastity belt! She does look hot in it, don't you think?"

"Oh, I agree, I kept her in it for the following products."

"Ahh, the double strap gag. Now the only reason I didn't shoot Marge in that..."

"...was you didn't have Jo to hand."

"Quite. Did she enjoy the experience?"

"That's a hard yes. So much so she's dressed in latex and collared still."

"How come?"

"Well ostensibly so she is ready to quickly do any reshoots you may require. However, I got zero resistance to that and, as I commented to Marge, I'm fairly certain she'd be happy to be kept that way."

"Really? Hmm. Okay, Sadie, if you have the time get these ready to replace the current product shots. I'll replace them when you have them and those video files ready. These are really good. If they have the desired effect would you like to reshoot the catalogue?"

"I'm not sure I'd have the time to do all of it."

"Sadie how about we start up a marketing stroke sales department with you at the head? If you're too busy with your old role we could look for someone new. You can have Marge under you and perhaps, if the business grows, Joanne too."

"That would be fantastic. Would I work up here?"

"Yes, but I'd also need you to run a trade stand at expos and trade shows. It would mean some time on the road and dressing pretty much as you are in public at the events."

"Oh! I'd not thought of that. I'd need to make adverts too."

"Which is why I'm giving you Marge to help."

"Yes! This will be fantastic. Thank you."

"I'll see if I can massage the accounts to reflect the rise in your position too."

"Thank you very much."

"Okay, I'll leave this with you. I'll talk to Jo and Jenny about your new role. Again, this is really good work. Well done."

Sadie, smirking as she glanced at Marjorie, left the office. Marjorie looked over at her dad to find him staring at her. She knew she had to be careful now. There were now two people giving her orders. They were not of one mind but if she disobeyed either she could end up in the pit with the chainsaw. However, now there was light at the end of the tunnel. With Joanne in a collar and Sadie wanting to bed her dad it could be she could stop playing at being a slave. It was going to take some inventive storytelling and manipulation to get there though.

"Did you hear all of that, Marge?"

"Yes, Master. You want me to work with her?"

"I've got two invites to trade fairs on my desk. I'll need you there modelling the wares."

"I understand. Master, there may be a problem on the horizon."

"Oh, what?"

"It concerns my tattoos."

"I saw them in the pictures. I've always liked the dragon. Why are they an issue, love."

"It's a bit of a story. But the short version is the tattoo artist gave me the shoulder sigil and the barcodes free of charge. Claimed he was showing off as no other tattoo artist could draw ones that actually scanned."

"They actually work?"

"Sort of. Umm, this is sort of embarrassing."

"Why, girl?"

"Okay, before you hit on this business idea I had an interest in kinky sex. You noted yourself I'm wearing a lot of my own fetish wear."

"Marge, we discussed this Yesterday. You're in your mid-twenties, woman. I'm not going to start judging you now. Is this a discussion for work though?"

"There is a time factor after that shoot, Master. So getting to the point. The round logo on my shoulder is called the triskelion and represents BDSM."

Her dad's eyebrows raised but the rest of his expression remained passive, "Go on," he encouraged.

"The barcodes are the real issue though. They do scan and they link to a register of slaves."

"You are kidding me!"

"No, Master."

"Why the fuck have you left it until now to tell me?"

"When you did the first shoots I kept them covered or turned away from the camera. I was not able to do so with Sadie. There's another problem with them."

"What?"

"When the tattoo artist did my shoulder I was cool with it. Figured it may get me some sexy lover tied to my bed. Umm, you get the idea." Marge's blush at this point was real, even if the rest of the story was playing fast and loose with the truth. "But I didn't ask enough questions about the barcodes. I think the guy said something like, 'Trust me, Marge, they're as cool as fuck,' and I let him do them."

"So when did you discover what they were?"

"When I got home, Master. At first, I was horrified. I was going to storm back and demand a cover-up. Then I started playing with the registration form. Typed a load of shite in for fun. Even uploaded some pictures. Pictures, Master, I would be embarrassed for you to see. So eventually I set the profile to password only and made plans to return to the shop. Only when I did it was closed down. He was gone and I've been unable to find him."

"What was he called?"

"Gave me some bull about being called, Lucifer. I'm getting the idea it was fake."

"Hmm, well they're done now. If people can't see them..." His eyes went wide as the penny dropped, "Oh, yeah I'm being slow. Why would I, your Master, not want them to work?"

"Exactly, Master."

"What did Sadie think of them?"

"I thought she was going to bring them up just now," lied Marjorie. "But I'm guessing the better job offer made her reconsider raising a personal point with you about your slave."

"That makes sense. Hmm, show me these tattoos."

"Yes, Master." This was unexpected. If the belt was spotted..." They both scan the same, Master, the hip one would require me removing my skirt."

"Knickers?"

"No, Master."

"Humph, well the one on your hand will do." Marjorie got up and crossed the office to her father's desk. She held out her hand so he could inspect the tattoo. "Well I can see why he boasted, those lines are pin-sharp and straight." He pulled out his phone and aimed it at Marjorie's hand. The phone pinged.

"What's the password then?"

"It doesn't work, Master, that's the problem. If it did I'd have changed the details and told you all about it. I was only keeping quiet because I was ashamed of what I had entered."

"I understand love. I know you've had these tattoos for some time. What have you tried entering the password on?"

"Master, my phone and my PC."

"Well, tell me what it is and I'll see if I can help."

"Yes, Master. Upper case S, the number four, lowercase t, the number four again, lowercase n, the number six hundred and sixty-six."

"Really?"

"I was going through a goth, satanism is kinda cool phase, Master. Please don't judge."

"Well, I am in."

"Really! Please, Master, let me delete things before you see..."

"Oh, too late. Oh my!" Marjorie flushed crimson in shame.

"Please, Master."

"No, girl, the damage is done. I may as well sort this out now I'm in. How much of this is true? Are you bi?"

"Yes, Master."

"'Kay, you've confessed to me you're submissive and enjoy S&M so we can leave that unchanged. Hmm, fetishes for latex, steel bondage, sensory deprivation and anal intercourse. Is that true?"

"Never tried sensory deprivation, Master. Like reading stories with it in though."

"So that's a yes then. Oh, but you are most certainly not a novice. What other ranks are there... Oh look, there's you, 'no limit lifestyle slave'. Ah, but now you are owned. Oh, that's neat, having listed you as Owned Property new fields for me to fill in have appeared... There, now those scanning your barcode will know you are mine. So now that is accurate we can change the accessibility."

"Please, Master, delete the picture of my privates."

"In good time," her dad replied tapping at the phone. "There changed the password while I was at it. Something less cheesy and harder to hack."

"Master, there's a cooldown period after a password change. You may not be able to delete the picture now."

"Really, let's see. Damn it won't go. No error message though. Let's try adding a new picture and deleting that. There's that one of you in full latex that ought to tie up with the fetishes section. Well, it accepts new pictures, Marjorie. But I can't seem to delete anything. I can rearrange stuff though so I'll upload some pictures from the first shoot, and the new one, and burry the rude shot at the bottom of the pile."

"Can't you just turn off access, Master?"

"No, Marge, as you pointed out yourself. That would lead to too many hard questions."

"Yes, Master, I understand. Can I know the new password please, Master?"

"I don't think so, girl. Your earlier failures to re-enter plus your desire to delete some of the info. I'll keep that with myself going forward."

"Yes, Master, I understand."

"Now go back to your desk and see if some customers are waiting. I'll sort this out now."

Dear reader, we will step away once more. But we will return again soon to check on Marjorie's progress. Since she was foolish enough to Deal with the Devil.