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Deconstructed pt III

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Deconstructed pt III - 8/26/2017 1:22:50 AM   

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“Drivers license, social security card, birth certificate. Cell phone. Credit cards and cash.”
“Yes Sir, thing hears and obeys. Thank You Sir.” thing placed the demaned items, all in a large manila envelope, on the table in front of Him.
it was nervous. it was terrified! thing was nervous, standing here in this coffee shop, standing beside His table, standing before HIM, dressed like this…high heels, ruffled white dolly socks, a skirt that thing had shortened only last night, a skirt shorter than anything it had ever worn…dressed like a slut…No. No, thing thought to itself, not a slut…. dressed like a slave. A slave. Things useless cunt started to drip.
thing was scared, TERRIFIED of doing something wrong, of displeasing Him. Was its skirt short enough? Were its heels high enough?
thing stood before Him, wrists crossed behind its back, knees most carefully NOT touching, toes pointed in. thing knew people were staring, and it was embarrassed – shamed – humiliated. But that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except pleasing Him. Speaking properly was difficult in public, but Sir demanded. A slave must speak properly at all times. Stand properly.
Sir lounged back in His chair, drinking coffee, totally at ease. Aloof, ignoring the stares and glares from the other patrons. Sir just sat there, drinking His coffee. And looking at thing. Evaluating it. Appraising His new property.
“Turn Sideways. Suck its stomach in more, shoulders back, tits out more. Turn its back to Me. Wrists up higher on its back. Never block My view of things ass. Feet a little further apart, toes in a little more. Bend over just a tiny bit, and arch its back more. Turn back around and face Me.”
thing was so embarrassed. And soooooo turned on. its heart was pounding. its face was red, and sweating. it felt dizzy, light headed. it felt like a slave.
Sir slid the manila envelope back across the table to the edge in front of thing. “Pick this up” He said, “and turn around, and walk out of here.”
WHAT??? thing felt as if its heart had stopped. It had displeased Him? It wasn’t pretty enough? Thin enough? It hadn’t obeyed quickly enough? Oh, God!
“…or” He continued, “Ask to serve Me. Ask to be enslaved.”
“Oh, PLEASE S-S-Sir,” thing stuttered, “Please allow thing to be your slave. Sir, it will do anything, it will do EVERYTHING, to earn the, the, the honor of serving You. Sir, please Sir, enslave thing.” The tears were running down its cheeks, but it didn’t even notice. Sir stood up and begin walking towards the door. “Come” he commanded over his shoulder, without even looking back. And, of course, thing followed, three steps behind, wrists still crossed behind its back, eyes downcast.
The other customers in the coffee shop, still staring, still glaring, spoke to each other, whispering, muttering, but all thing could hear were its heels clicking on the floor, talking to it, tapping out a cadence …”en-slaved…en-slaved…en-slaved en-slaved enslaved!”

And here it was, suffering in the darkness, Sirs possession in Sirs dungeon, hoping desperately to earn Sirs collar, and the title of…slave.

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