She felt stupid, dirty, foolish, weak-willed, corrupt. The only escape from the self-persecuting thoughts was a yearning review of the sexual acts inflicted on her and how she had, at least, succeeded in pleasing Jones and the little guy. She was somewhat useful after all. She found herself clinging to these types of thoughts. Her obedience to their wishes was useful. The more obedient she was the more useful she was. In the end obedience might lead to even more of these excellent orgasms....

She heard the double doors scrape open once again. She closed her eyes, not wanting to look, not even wanting to hope whoever it was did not sit down. Hope could be crushed. Resigned lack of hope protected her dilapidated emotional framework. It was a house of cards at this point.

Sure enough, the new occupant lazily pulled a chair out and plopped down on its seat.

Another visitor wasn't unexpected by Sierra. A rich doctor like Jones might have a great number of friends and no doubt most would avail themselves of a free blow job. She'd envisioned having to provide more oral attentions and pictured both a best case scenario and a worst case scenario. The best case scenario involved a "handsome" cock not too large and, for all she knew, attached to a handsome man.

She opened just on eye and squinted at the legs of the next contestant she was "supposed" to give a blow job to.

It was the worst case scenario.

That damn "serving girl" with the flaming pussy tattoo.

Sierra guessed she must be done with all her chores. If she was as brainwashed as the others, and Sierra already knew she was, she likely did all her work for Jones for free. Maybe for room and board though. Sierra wondered if the girl spent her nights chained under or against furniture. She wondered if she herself would still be shackled under here later that night or even for how many more nights than just one.

She was sure as Hell sure the girl wouldn't have her own bed. The thought made her wonder. She'd like to see those living -- or enslaved -- arrangements just to satisfy her curiosity.

Sierra knew she was trying to distract herself with these thoughts in order to avoid considering going down on the serving girl. She knew she had to choose either to do it or not. The girl sat there patiently, either tolerant or perhaps enjoying the knowledge of the thought processes going on in Sierra's mind. Sierra knew there were consequences with either decision. Deep ramifications. She did not want to cross that line but she also didn't want to cross Doctor Jones.

He wasn't even here but she still feared him. The cane had left an imprint on her psychologically as well as literally. If she didn't co-operate who knew how long he'd keep her here and she would be punished severely with the cane. Remembering her current expected tally of cane strikes she corrected herself; punished even more severely. On the other hand, if she did co-operate in this twisted program, who knew how long he'd keep her here and she would still be visited by the cane again and again. The thought of being kept as an abused house pet was awful and intimidating. Still, there was a dark heating of lust deep in her belly. The life of a sexual pet, though painful and dehumanizing, would, at the least, be more interesting than her current one.

Sierra tossed her head but the guerilla warfare thoughts clung there.

The serving girl tapped one foot with gentle impatience. Clearly she knew Sierra was down there. That became ever more clear when she skinned off her black bikini bottoms and kicked them in Sierra's general direction. Now she was bare from her solar plexus to her sexy feet.

Sierra looked at those black bikini bottoms lying against her right knee. She thought she could smell pussy emanating from them but admitted the scent could be coming from her own pussy. It was probably coming from both, a pussy scent cocktail. If things went much further down here the air was going to get thick.

Her mind was trying to find a way out but it was a puzzle with no solution.

The serving girl snapped her fingers.

Sierra realized that delay would only cause trouble. Going down on this young woman was stupid, refusing to do it would be stupid, but delaying and then still doing it would be the worst of all. Which was the lesser of the evils here?

If she didn't do it right way it wasn't like she could expect the serving girl would just put her bottoms back on and leave. She'd abuse Sierra as well and then Sierra would ultimately go ahead and do it anyway. Even if she didn't, she'd report Sierra's failure to Jones and who knew how many ways he knew to punish Sierra.

Still trying to buy time she crawled over to the serving girl's chair, purposely making the chains on the shackle clink so the girl would know she was on her way. She was still trying to think of something. Maybe pull the girl down under the table and then overpower her? Sierra was pretty sure she could take the little bitch but then what? She doubted the girl would have a key to the shackles. Holding her hostage would never work.

Sierra felt despair. Hope fled. Her mind was useless, she was useless. Apparently she was good for only one thing: obeying the wishes of others. If she refused to do as commanded then she wouldn't even be good for that.

She might as well look over... the situation. Nervously she got between the girl's spread wide knees and peered at her sex. The tattooed flames did indeed curl directly out from a trimmed red-brown bush of pubic hair crowning a tight slit that shown with wetness.

Sierra was shocked to feel saliva flood her dry mouth. She hadn't eaten or drunk anything since lunch and she'd expended a goodly amount of bodily fluids since then. She was very thirsty. Her body had held a hidden reservoir of saliva and chose now to expend it. The droplets on the girl's labia appealed to her as much as a pool of spring water. Maybe she'd go down on the girl... just to avoid dehydration....

She didn't appreciate the roughness of the serving girl grabbing hunks of her raven hair and jamming her face into the wet pussy but once she tasted the sweet liquid of the girl's juices Sierra forgave her. She didn't even mind terribly when the girl used one hand to push the back of her head forward hard, twisting her nose into the soft pussy flesh, and forcing Sierra to wallow in the female genitalia. Sierra licked automatically and was rewarded with flows of liquid from her mouth and from the pussy, joining and mixing, before she swallowed them back down from time to time. She knew it should be gross but to her it was the nectar of the gods.