Daisy Anne's Revenge Walk

The origin of this story is ambiguous, even to me. This is one of my oldest story ideas, story planning in my 'straight' days. Only blooming into maturity due to personal changes, positive ones.

The power of a Dominatrix is most certainly alluring.

Tears rushed down Daisy Ann’s cheeks. She should have left on the mention, faking being ill, not drinking her morning coffee. Her senses have come back, like falling into a nightmare.

She felt less hazy, the sliding moment of the dicks in her cunt, anus, mouth felt harder, sorer. Her stomach knotted at the look of one of the men. It was the same lad that her mistress showed at a dungeon. He was talking to her about sharing Daisy. She cringed in her seat. She hated the feeling of a plastic dick, let alone having a real one in her.

They commented on her small breasts, her no-ass, how her hair was like a doll, shame they couldn’t hypnotise her into a Barbie fuckdoll.

Eventually, they pulled out. Her body shakes. The lad who had his dick in her mouth stroked her hair. She pulled away, wanting to spit the cum she had ingested. He looked confused, and she couldn’t blame him. How can she tell him that she's never wanted this despite hopping on his dick two minutes ago?

When the three left, she lay on the couch, legs next to her chest. Their voices meet with her Dom, thanking her for “her service” and coming again. Their fingerprints, bites, and thrusting moved in her skin. 

“Babe”

She hated being called a babe; she was a grown woman, not an infant. She said yes and mistress as she stood up, head still lowered. 

Her Dom, Mistress Dahlia, came with a brick of money. Brown straight hair, size C breasts, always in clothes, always tight and black. 

“Get dressed! I wanted your Dom session to start just after the sun sets and you’re horsing around.”

Daisy tries to put her head up, asking if she can have something to eat first.

“No, you eat too much as it is. Besides, we’re going to that chicken place to eat”

Mistress Dahlia called herself a switch, but only a sub on her own strict terms and conditions. Daisy remembers the route planned: walk to Colonel’s Cheeky Chicken in latex, Mistress will take one of her favourite blue pills, MindDoll, then go back home, quick fuck before she visits family for the holidays, and Daisy will be by herself for the holidays...minus the day check to calls, minus the spontaneous yet ritual visits.

A phone pinned. Daisy picked it up without much thought. It was the Mistress's phone notification from WhatsApp. On holding it, Daisy saw the message: a location, kisses, emojis. 

The sensation stopped. The sadness froze.

It felt silent, an exhale without a need to inhale.

I must be numb, she thought, I must be losing it. But on looking at her, her Dom painting her nails, she realised, a quiet realisation of that every fuck she ever possessed was gone.