Victoria's Journey

Victoria woke not to the gentle light of morning, but to the sharp, rhythmic slap of leather against leather. She blinked her eyes open, her body aching in a dozen places, but a deep, comforting warmth from the bed and the memory of a gentle touch had soothed her into a rare, peaceful sleep. But the person standing over her was not the gentle girl from the night before.

This Yumi was a different creature entirely. She had showered and dressed. She was wearing a crisp, form-fitting white blouse and a short, pleated tartan skirt that barely grazed her thighs, the epitome of a schoolgirl fantasy. But that's not what got Victoria's attention; it was the riding crop she was slapping across her leather-gloved hands, the sound a sharp, menacing percussion in the quiet morning air.

"Up, bitch. You're taking advantage of my kindness."

Victoria sighed, a wave of despondency washing over her. Had last night with Yumi been a dream? A brief, cruel illusion of comfort? Was this the same gentle girl who had bathed her and held her? It couldn't be. The transformation was absolute, terrifying.

Victoria climbed out of bed, even in her bare feet. She stood two inches taller than the teenager, but that didn't seem to bother Yumi in the slightest. The girl’s eyes were hard chips of obsidian.

"Knees, bitch. Now," Yumi commanded, her voice sharp as the crop she held. "And thank Mistress Yumi for her kindness."

Victoria hesitated for just a second. A flicker of the old her, the CEO, the woman who commanded boardrooms, stirred deep inside. She could slap the shit out of this little bitch. She was thinking of doing just that when Yumi's leg moved with shocking speed and precision. Her knee caught Victoria hard, right between her slightly open legs, a sharp, explosive impact directly on her most sensitive flesh.

Victoria screamed, a high, choked sound of pure agony, and fell to her knees, her hands instinctively grabbing her crotch. Yumi grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head back painfully.

"Bitch," she hissed, her face close to Victoria's, her breath hot and angry. "When my sister and Master Richard aren't here, you will do as I say. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Victoria gasped, tears of pain springing to her eyes.

Yumi pulled her hair harder, forcing her neck to an agonizing angle. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, Mistress Yumi." The words were torn from her throat.

Yumi clipped a leash to Victoria's collar and pulled. Victoria was forced to let go of her injured crotch and follow the teenager like a dog, crawling on her hands and knees, the pain shooting up her inner thigh with every movement.

Yumi led her to the kitchen first. She pushed a dog bowl full of cold, lumpy porridge across the floor in front of Victoria. "Eat breakfast. No hands, slut."

Despite herself, Victoria was ravenous. She hadn't eaten since the morning before the party. She lowered her head, her pride a distant memory, and took a big lick of the cold, slimy porridge. The taste was foul, vaguely metallic, and salty. She spat it back out, a splatter of white goo on the clean floor. Without thinking, she shouted, "What the fuck?"

Yumi's response was instantaneous. She put a leather-clad foot on Victoria's back and pushed her down, her face hovering just above the mess she had made. "Eat your breakfast," Yumi said, her voice dangerously low. "My sister added her special ingredient just for you. She said you had enjoyed it before."

Victoria was instantly reminded of when Akiko had pissed on her and left her lying in it on the cold bathroom floor. The memory made her stomach churn. The "special ingredient" was obvious now. "Now eat it all. Now. Be good."

Victoria put her head forward, her licks less enthusiastic, each one an act of supreme degradation. She forced herself to swallow the cold, foul-tasting mixture, her stomach heaving with revulsion.

The rest of the morning was a litany of humiliations. Yumi watched as Victoria cleaned the already pristine house, using every opportunity to punish her with the crop or just remind her who she was. A streak on the window earned a sharp slap on her buttocks. A misplaced cushion caused the crop to flick against the soles of her feet. Yumi's taunts were constant, a stream of verbal abuse that chipped away at what little was left of her spirit.

Finally, the house was clean. There was only one room to go. The room where she had been on display and used like a fucktoy. The room still smelled of sex and sweat, a stale, cloying scent that made Victoria's stomach clench with remembered trauma.

Yumi stood behind her as Victoria knelt on the threshold. "This room smells like you had a good time, slut. Did you have a good time?"

Victoria didn't answer. She couldn't. The memory was too raw, too painful.

A sharp, stinging slash across her back made her jump and cry out. "Did you have fun?" Yumi repeated, her voice hard.

Victoria knew there was only one acceptable answer. She had learned that lesson well. She lied, her voice a hollow, defeated whisper. "Yes, Mistress Yumi."

Yumi chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Look, you have some tips." She picked up the tip jar from the previous night and poured the contents on the floor in front of Victoria: two-pound coins and one ten-pence piece, plus three used condoms and a handful of empty condom wrappers. The items scattered across the floor were a pathetic testament to her value.

"Ahh, the slut can't even buy a cup of coffee," Yumi sneered. "Clean this all up."

Yumi turned and left, leaving Victoria on her knees amidst the debris of her own violation. Tears fell from her eyes freely, hot and silent, as she picked up the used condoms with her trembling fingers, trying not to gag, wiping up the sticky mess with a cloth, her heart a cold, heavy stone in her chest.

Once the room was spotless, Yumi returned. "Good," she said, a note of satisfaction in her voice. She sat on a low armchair, spreading her legs. She wasn't wearing any underwear under her tartan skirt. "Now, you will thank me for my kindness."

Victoria crawled to her and positioned herself between her legs. She knew what was required. She used her mouth, her tongue, her lips to give Yumi the orgasm she demanded, her movements mechanical, her mind disassociated. Yumi's hands were in her hair, guiding her, her moans of pleasure a final, cruel confirmation of Victoria's complete and total submission.

Afterwards, Yumi made her shower, watching her with a critical eye. Then, she locked the chastity belt back in place, the click of the lock a sound of finality. She dressed Victoria in the clothes Richard had brought for her: a cheap, thin blouse that was practically see-through and a ridiculously short skirt. She supervised as Victoria made her face up with the cheap makeup, applying layer after layer of garish color, and then sprayed her with the cheap, overpowering perfume.

"Come," Yumi said, leading her to the front door. Victoria sat in the passenger seat of the Audi, a wave of relief washing over her. At least she was getting a ride home. But as Yumi pulled out onto a main road, she suddenly indicated and pulled over to the side of the road, right next to a bus stop.

"That bus comes every hour," Yumi said, pointing. "It will take you to Chatham. Change buses there, then get on a bus to home." She handed Victoria a small bag containing a bottle of water and some extra cash.

"Get out."Victoria stared at her, her mind blank with shock. She got out of the car, standing on the pavement as Yumi sped off without a backward glance. The cool air made her nipples point out through the cheap, thin blouse, a blatant advertisement of her slutty appearance. She looked at the bus stop, a forlorn figure in ridiculous clothes. And that's when the rain started to fall, a cold, steady drizzle that soaked her thin blouse and plastered her hair to her head, leaving her shivering and alone, a public spectacle of misery.