Florida Submission

The plain looking house was not far away from Ms. Sabrina's faded mansion, set off by itself at the end of a deserted street looking onto a canal, sometimes with a lazy alligator sunning itself on the bank. This seemed to be a failed Florida development, with no other occupied houses nearby. Inside the house, the doors had been removed from all the rooms except Deborah's quarters, and the windows had plastic security glazing inside. Deborah had her own suite, with nice furnishings, TV and internet, and her own bath and closets. The rest of us shared two sleeping rooms and a lounge with battered folding lawn chairs and a bath, plus what I learned was the studio.

Deborah locked the house door behind us, and then took me to the room in the back. "Five, this is the studio, where you will do your internet job for Ms. Sabrina."

I had been surprised at every turn for the last two days, but this was something new. "What do you mean, job? And, Deborah, I need to plan to get back to my real job, I am supposed to fly back tomorrow, when will you take me to the airport?"

She was annoyed, but firm. "Five, you are not paying attention. You left that life behind, and now it's gone. You gave us your passwords the first day, and we have your purse and your documents. Ms. Sabrina closed your bank accounts, paid off your bills from your savings, canceled your lease, and requested a leave of absence from your job. She took a charity deduction for your car, and all your fancy clothing went to a second hand shop. And remember, your card paid for the new clothing we got you the first night."

"Your body belongs to Ms. Sabrina now, and she has to feed and house you, so it's only fair you need to do some work, for this tropical vacation you dreamed of. That's why the photos of you were posted on the Internet." She was laughing out loud as she finished her speech.

She led me into the room furnished with a bed with shiny black satin sheets, a computer with a large flat panel screen, and some low cushions and an ottoman. I saw a large professional webcam mounted on the wall, facing the bed, and the hanging microphone. I was stunned, even before she flicked on the web site home screen: "Sabrina's Sluts/ One on One Chat and Use". The lurid screen featured a dungeon setting, with palm trees outside it, and head shots of each of the five submissives here. My own had my real name, Jennifer, and my real previous home town. Anyone who knew me would see it was clearly me. The photo showed me topless and smiling, apparently ready for anything.

"So, Five, every night you need to do two hours here, just take the calls and do whatever the customers ask for. The $5 per minute they pay goes into your sales account, and of course for that price they can make recordings to circulate forever on the Internet. Start out in your halter dress and heels; it gives them something to look forward to." She tapped a key, and the view changed, to a video shot of the bed here and a blank customer screen. "Here, take your first call."

The computer chimed, and I found the key to press; the customer screen showed three young men, with drinks in hand. "Hey, babe, are you Jennifer? What will you do slut?"

I looked over at Deb, and pressed the key. "You can call me Five; I will do what you want. Tell me what you guys want." I tried to force a smile, watching the counter ringing up their charges.

"You know, show us the tits, slut! Show us everything, and how much you want us." They were at the point of being drunk enough that everything they said seemed hilarious to them. I was on the bed shrugging off my dress, posing, finding new ways to spread myself and touch my body as they hooted and yelled commands, and I kept my gaze on the clock and the counter. The hours went by with more of the same, a continuing series of simulated sex acts and exposure and humiliation, all recorded and broadcast. When Deborah came back at the end of my time, I had 102 minutes and $510 on the clock. Four was waiting in the hall for her turn.

"Every day, Five, sometime, you need to do your two hours. Work it out with the others. Customers pay triple for two girls at once, but for that you need to beg one of the others to work with you."

I was naked now, with my dress and shoes in my hand, as she walked me to the sleeping room. It was very plain, with small dormitory beds and rough sheets. The bathroom was visible, through the open doorway.

"Welcome Home, Five. Have a nice life now."

15

The days fell into a pattern, as my old life became a distant thing. The work was never physically hard, but the training and humiliation were constants. Each of us as submissives offered herself for it, but each woman responded in different ways. Deborah's role seemed to be observing us and keeping us on edge, as Ms. Sabrina used us in different ways. Some of the women seemed to seek the thrill of pain and punishment, and were brought to their own edge with nipple clamps and floggings; some sought out bondage and were often cuffed or restrained as they were used. My own training focused on the humiliation which repelled and excited, me, making clear how I had been brought lower from my educated, professional, cool non-sexual world.

Ms. Sabrina had listened carefully during my online chats, and she understood that it was the humiliation that excited my deepest feelings and had brought me here. I was kept as the lowest-ranking of the group, given the last of everything and the most dismal tasks, while only rarely being allowed any sexual satisfaction, which kept me on edge and attentive most of the time. When I was not being used by Ms. Sabrina, she found it amusing to make me beg to be used by one of the others, displaying myself in the neediest ways and being forced to ask for my own hard use.

With my daily internet sessions, my maid service, and my display to guests, I became used to having no privacy and to internalize my shame at the way I was forced to admit to my sexual nature. Ms. Sabrina had Deborah organize a new room for me on the website, as an "online therapist for sexual addiction". Customers logged in to find me sitting on a hard chair, wearing prim vanilla clothing, in front of the bed with the satin sheets. "I am Jennifer, and I am a sex addict." I could see the callers laughing on their screen, as they asked me to beg them for attention, and for their humiliation of m and to do as they told me. And I did.

Deborah had put a menu of choices to the web site, with a new item added every time she discovered something that brought new humiliation and arousal for me. Everything I did online was now kept as an archive video, available to subscribers for replay and copying. The days with Ms. Sabrina and her women had become weeks, and my old life was left behind. When Deborah woke me the next morning, she was smiling and had found some new idea.

"Five, no housework for you today, Ms. Sabrina has found a new place for you that seems to fit what you need. We got a package for you, some new things to wear, for a start." Like the other four women, I was wearing only some casual shorts, a loose knit top, and of course my ever present waist chain and tag. She handed me a large carton, with FedEx tape and labels, and the others watched as I opened it. Inside, I found beautiful professional clothes, my own clothes in fact, from my old life. Expensive soft tweed jackets, pencil skirts, silk blouses, stockings, and the ridiculously expensive shoes I had collected, in soft colored leather with very high heels. The lingerie in the box was mine too, lacy and minimal French and Japanese pieces from the best stores, with my pearls and gold jewelry. Sweaters, expensive casual wear, some formal dresses, and almost everything had some designer label.

"We had someone clean out your closets, Five, when we canceled your apartment lease, and we were thinking that even in this new sort of life you can get some use out of these things. You can put them in the extra closet in my room; I will get them when you need them. Ms. Sabrina wants to take you out today, as a trial. Go get dressed, as if you are still the bank vice president you used to be."

I ignored the looks from the others as I dragged the carton into Deborah's room and picked out an outfit. When I came out, Deborah smiled and the other women looked unhappy. I had found one of my old favorite outfits, a very fine cashmere tweed slim skirt, paired with a heavy silk blouse that draped over the curves of my lacy half cup bra, with sheer stockings and the light colored heels that made me look taller. The cultured pearl necklace and the gold wrist piece completed the look; all that was missing was my expensive Swiss watch and my phone. It felt good, to once again wear lipstick and makeup

Deborah took me outside into the sun, and handed me my big sunglasses. Ms. Sabrina was waiting, in the dark colored car I had arrived in. Deborah held the door open as I slid into the front seat next to Ms. Sabrina.

"You are looking very beautiful Five, almost like the old you that I used to chat with. But let's not get ahead of ourselves here. Show me your tag, Five." Behind the sunglasses, my face flushed. I slid down in the leather seat, until I was able to hike the slim skirt up my thighs. As I slid it higher, and spread my thighs to show more of my fine stockings, I reached between my legs to hold up the gray metal chain I still wore, and the dull brass tag that hung between my legs, with its stamped number 5.

"That's better, keep your skirt up like that until we get there, and remember how I own you now. Open your mouth, too, just as a reminder that you are always available now." I sat like that, lips open, thighs apart, as the car picked up speed. We seemed to be going to some wealthier town nearby, as the houses got larger and the Florida landscape became greener and more lushly tropical. When we pulled into a drive, it seemed to be a small private club, with more white stucco arches and a red tile roof. Ms. Sabrina pulled up under a canopy, and a young parking valet came to her and handed her a ticket as he opened her door. I pushed my skirt down and opened my door to slide out of the car, pressing my lips together again and brushing back my hair. Ms. Sabrina took my arm as we walked into the cool dark entry, and when I saw our reflection in the glass we both looked elegant and wealthy; she was dressed in an expensive casual blouse and skirt, with gilded leather sandals and I looked like her older sister, the banker.

Inside the club, we turned left down the hall and pushed open a heavy wood door with Spanish hardware, past a sign: 'Room 2, Everwell Party'. There was a small group of women standing by the French doors to the patio, with a white-jacketed waitress serving tropical drinks from a silver tray. The women were all about early 30's, younger than I was, and all had the natural Florida look of big hair and light makeup over their balanced tans, all dressed in some variant of expensive casual wear.

Ms. Sabrina seemed to know everyone, and she drifted into the group smiling and chatting easily, keeping her hand on my arm. I was more formally dressed, as if I had come from my downtown investment office. I felt Ms. Sabrina's nails tighten on my arm, and I smiled harder and listened, nodding my head and trying to blend in. I faded back into attention when I heard my name."...my newest staff member, this is Jennifer Fivre, yes, pronounced 'Five', I was able to recruit her from up north and she is helping to get our new web hosting business off the ground now." I looked up quickly, to focus on the smiling blonde with what seemed to be very real, very heavy gold jewelry and wide eyes that Ms. Sabrina was chatting with.

She didn't introduce her friend, and I wasn't sure what to say, but I made a smile and tried a "Hello, nice to meet you." The woman didn't respond, but her eyes flicked over me as she turned back to Ms. Sabrina. Her smile broadened, and she did the eyes wide, fake smile move again. "Sabrina, do you still have those Saturday entertainments at your place? I remember Jack and I used to go once in a while, and you always found the most amazing- staff members. I always wondered how you did that." I felt the blush creep up my neck and my ears were suddenly hot.

Ms. Sabrina smiled, but kept her grip on my arm. "Yes, Charlene, I still have my special weekends sometimes. If you find the right people, they are happy to be part of it; the challenge like giving any party is the balance of elements, and finding that edge between boring and inspiring. Once you find the key, you can release some interesting ideas." She moved her hand from my elbow to reach up and cup my breast in my jacket, taking a good feel of its shape and fullness. Her eyes locked on mine, as I looked back and did nothing. Charlene was sipping her umbrella drink and watching closely.

She reached up to open my jacket, and slide it back off my arms to hold it. "Ms. Fivre here is turning out to be a special find. Everyone has something they want, or need, and what she needs seems to be this. Take off your blouse, Five." Charlene looked at her, then back at me, with her head tilted a bit to the side, wondering what I would do.

With my face flushed, I worked the silk covered buttons on my creamy silk blouse, from top to bottom, and pulled it out of my skirt. With my eyes on Ms. Sabrina, I slipped off the blouse and handed it to her. I was the only one in the small group to be undressed at all, standing in my skirt and heels and lacey half-cup French bra, the one I had imagined saving for a new lover. I felt my nipples harden, and I tried to suck in my tummy and stand taller. A shorter waitress came by, offering more drinks, and her eyes washed over me as she decided to ignore the situation and move on. Ms. Sabrina smiled at Charlene and at me, as two of the other women drifted over. She was holding my blouse, finding the Chanel label, and realizing it had cost me almost a week's salary, back in my other life.

The two younger women moved closer, to stand with Charlene, still holding their drinks but laughing quietly to see me like this. Ms. Sabrina leaned closer to me, speaking quietly. "Now the bra, Five, and give it to Charlene. You won't need it again here."

I reached down, to open the front clasp bra, more humiliated to be undressing myself in public than to have things taken from me. My older breasts sagged a little as I lifted the lace cups away and shrugged off the bra, and I felt my arousal as usual. One of the laughing women opened her small purse and leaned closer, holding the lipstick she carried. "Very pretty, but I think she needs more color, Sabrina." She reached out to run the wine-colored lipstick over the lip liner I had worked hard on earlier, and then colored burgundy circles around both of my nipples, in a clownish way. Charlene chuckled, and Ms. Sabrina joined in.

One of the women noticed part of my gray metal waist chain, riding above my skirt at one hip, and looked at Ms. Sabrina. "Skirt too, Five; you look awkward half dressed like that." I unzipped the soft tweed skirt and slid it down over my hips, to step out of it. I folded it and handed it to Ms. Sabrina, who noted the Saks label and smiled. I was standing now in a circle of women, all younger and prettier, wearing only heels, stockings and panties. The flat metal chain lay over my hips and curved under my older belly, with the tailing chain passing through my panties to hang between my things. The curious woman reached down, pushing my legs wider, to read the tag and laugh out loud. 'If lost return to Ms. Sabrina', and a phone number. Perfect." Just as I did online now, I kept my hands down and let them look and touch as they liked, which was all I deserved.

"Five here is very seldom allowed any release, I discourage self-pleasure by my staff, but perhaps today might be her lucky day. If

she begs all of you to agree, of course. Panties off now, Five, show the ladies how you are feeling." As I pushed the lace bikini panties lower, the chain slid free to clink between my legs. They laughed as I asked, and as they made me describe just how I was feeling and how much I needed this. I kept begging, since I was seldom allowed to speak now, as they led me outside to the sunny terrace, to sit on the wide railing, with my legs spread wide and braced on two chairs. Several more women joined the group, as I was allowed to finger myself, to show my wetness, and to tug at my own nipples now coated with the wine lipstick. As I begged and displayed myself and touched my wet flesh I saw Ms. Sabrina off to the side, in discussion with one of the waitresses. When I came, it was a heart-pounding, body-tensing event that shook me, and they laughed more at the way I clearly needed it.

As the women drifted away, bored with this adventure now, Ms. Sabrina returned. "Here, clean yourself up, then you can thank the ladies and we will go." I began to wipe up my juices with the cloth she handed me and realized they were the rags of my designer clothes, which she had sliced up with a knife from the kitchen. Nothing was left; she walked me through the room and back outside to the valet parking attendant naked, wearing only my scratched heels and damaged stockings now.

16.

Ms. Sabrina loved the feedback she got from her group of friends, so along with the web sites my new role became the outcall erotic toy, the elegant older woman available for humiliation and amusement. Each time, she had me dress in my reduced older wardrobe, and go with her in the car, to make an elegant entrance. Sometimes it was to another club, sometimes to a large home, a high up apartment.

This time, I was surprised when the car brought us to a dock at a marina. We had been brought to a very large power boat, one which you had to call a yacht, where a caterer was unloading party supplies. I tugged down my skirt as I slid out of the car, wearing a sleeveless linen sheath with gold jewelry and tall wedge heels; I saw now why I had not been given the usual stilettos, these were boat shoes. Ms. Sabrina took my arm and walked me up the gangway, to look for her contact person.

"I have to go find Andre, the organizer of this party, so Five- stay right here. Put your hand on the rail and don't leave this spot." She moved me to the cabin wall facing out onto the deck, where a teak rail ran along the passage. "Stay." As she turned away, the men busy loading the bar supplies and wine moved past us, and I saw them whispering.

I was standing, waiting, as I did so often now, with a hand on the rail and looking out at the water and the fleet of costly boats. Two of the caterers came back, headed to the dock for another load, but stopped in front of me. "I've heard of you, the one they call Five. My girlfriend is a waitress at the club." He had a grin, and his companion was smiling. I had nothing to say, and kept silent as he reached out to touch my arm. The two of them shifted, to put me out of view from the dock, and his hand slid over to cup my breast in the slender linen dress. I kept my hand on the rail, looking down, as he used both hands to fondle my breasts and roll my hardening nipples. The other man cupped my ass, and slid his hands over my thighs as I said nothing. His hand moving over my thin dress stopped, when he felt the chain I wore under it.

"So it's true, what Laura said; you are a slave of some sort?" He reached down to lift my dress, sliding it up my thighs to my hips, where they could both see I wore no panties, and the chain with its brass pet tag swinging between my legs. His hand went higher, to find me wet, and he fingered me roughly. My face was red, but I moved my legs wider apart and said nothing, with my hands at my sides. I was no longer the cool professional woman; I had been re-trained by Ms. Sabrina. I held the rail, and for a few moments they both fondled me and laughed, before they went on with their work. They left me with my dress wrinkled and halfway up my thighs, and I was blinking back silent tears when Ms. Sabrina returned.