-So would you want to go out someday?- Francis looked again at Monique's bossom. He was putting a great effort not to but his eyes didn't seem to be obeying. The last button of her blouse was just an inch over her breasts, the fabric barely covering her lacy push-up bra. Under the blouse, a burgundy underbust corset compressed her waist, forcing her chest out.

-Go out? Yes. Anything else?- Monique showed him the golden ring she had been wearing on her finger the last years. Her alibi.- No.

-Come on. Nobody here has met your husband. Does he really exist?

-Oh, it's real.- Monique smiled sardonically.- And she,- She emphasized the word “she”.- owns me. Completely.

-Oh, eh...- Suddenly he started to sweat profusely. As the choker and the ring didn't seem to be enough deterrent, she went atraight to the f-bomb.- I better go.

-Bye, then. Have a good day.

Monique intended to refocus on her work but a surge of heat coming from her crotch distracted her too much. The wave had started just after she mentioned the word “owns”. Although the magic word might possibly be “she”. Monique wasn't one hundred percent sure.

She caressed the part of her legs, over her knees, that her new pencil skirt left uncovered, which was quite a lot. Then she touched the waist band of her chastity belt. All her new and revealing clothes had been acquired keeping that in mind and tried to conceal that feature with more or less success. That skirt's waistline, in concrete, was slightly wider and higher. Should someone notice the belt, she would say that it had a medical purpose, scoliosis, as mistress had advised. Her hand went down slowly.

-Monique?- Sofia asked startling Monique.

-Yes?

-You are panting, is everything ok?

-Yes!- The office was a small place.- Thanks, Sofia, I'm fine.- She wondered, what was happening to her, and what was her mistress doing to her mind. Sofia frowned. Those last weeks after her wardrobe changed radically, the guys in general, including her boss, and a pair of girls, started to be a bit more solicitous. The rest of the girls a bit more cold. She remembered how the change began.



She had been ordered to stand. Her hands on her nape, legs spread shoulder length, waist thrusted slightly forward. Around her right ankle, on the floor, the chastity belt laid open. Marlo was using a ruler to take measures.

-Mistress Marlo, may I ask a question?- Marlo owned a clothes shop, aside from the tattoo parlor were Rick worked, plus the sex shop were Monique had bought most of her toys. Carol had sent her there for a change of style, not before making clear that she musted obey every and each of Marlo's instructions.

-Sure, darling.- Marlo measured the width of each breast separately for some reason, using the opportunity to toy with her nipples a bit.

-Why do you have a key for my, eh...?

-Because your mistress trusts me more than you do.- Monique nodded.- Unfortunately for you I have limitations.- She squatted down to measure ankles, calves and thighs.- I cannot insert anything here.- She rubbed the entrance of Monique's pussy with her middle finger. She gasped.- I can toy with this as much as I want.- She pressed on Monique's button.- Monique gasped again, but revealing a more warm range of feelings.- But you don't have permission to cum, do you?

-No, Mistress Marlo, I don't.

-That's so sad...- She had stopped measuring things and was just pressing on Monique's clit again and again.- Such a young pussy at my disposal. I've never tasted any, you know? Shall I...? It my first time. You don't mind, do you?- Monique held her breath. Marlo's tongue lapped slowly all the length of her slit.- Wow, so sweet. More!- She was about to lap a second time but stopped.- No! I'm the mistress here. You will taste my pussy. You will learn to love my pussy! Will you?

-I, eh...- Monique gulped.- If my mistress...

-Yeah, yeah, I know...- She resumed her work.- You don't like me. Because I'm cruel with Rick, right?

-Mistress, I don't...

-You don't...- She cut Monique.- I'm too cruel for you. But what if...? Let's say that you are super in love with a guy, in part because you have specific sexual preferences and his match perfectly your owns. You love him so much that you marry him, ignoring your relatives' opinion. They advise you not to marry him, because you are older and richer. But you are chubby and this guy doesn't like you physically. So you start a diet, and for ten months you cannot eat the things you like. One day a friend of yours tells you that the guy has been dating another woman for six months, and this woman is not much younger or prettier, but happens to be also a dominatrix, and even more strict than you were.- She made a short pause.- What do you say, darling?- She took the last measure, stood, and looked at Monique's eyes.- How angry would you be?

-Quite a lot, Mistress.- Monique didn't try to hide how ashamed she was. She had misjudged the situation.

-I guess so, yes.- She looked down.- I cannot insert anything in your beautiful cunny, darling.- Monique reached down, grabbed the chastity belt, inserted the egg inside her, fitted the belt around her waist and closed the padlock.- Now, darling, I have a question for you and won't accept a refusal.- She hugged Monique tightly, cupped her buttocks squezzing soflty, and rubed her lips against her neck, next to her ear.- May I invite you to a cup of tea?- Monique gulped and nodded. Although Marlo was not her mistress, she was acting on her behalf and that treatment felt very good. Clealy they had been talking a lot. Marlo knew exactly what to do to ignite her fires. As soon as she arrived home she would inform her mistress about how interested she was on the prospect of a possible immediate orgasm. She would not ask for it directly. That would mean that she intended to assert control over her own pleasure and that was not allowed. Her pleasure was entirely under her mistress' control.



While remembered all that, Monique played with her choker, which had to be always visible as far as possible. Her hair musted be combed backwards for the same reason, and to let her face be seen, contrary to her old habit of covering half of it.

-So a woman?- Sofia looked at the curve of Monique's breasts over the neckline of the blouse with a bit of envy.

-What?- The question brought Monique back to reality.- Yes, it's... Yes.

-When did you met her?

-Well...- That brought another memory.



-You are my prisoner now!- An eight years old Carol claimed boldly after shooting at the sky with her plastic Colt. Her denim skirt adorned with a flower pattern showed multiple stains of grass and mud, same as her pink plaid shirt.

-I have no choice but to do everything you say.- The seven and a half years old Monique was dressed with a single piece brown dress, a slit cut on her right leg up to her midthigh. Over her left ear, attached to her hairband, she weared a bunch of feathers. A long string of rope made many loops around her body and the tree were she had been secured. The knots were knots only in name.



-Hello? Monique? Come back.- Sofia insisted.

-Well...- That memory had made her smile.- She has always been there.