A Suitable Job For A Slut Ch. 03

I had been at college maybe 6 months and it felt like the only significant thing I had learned was how much I hated college. The classes were mind numbingly dull, first year students ended up living in the student accommodation blocks and I loathed d living so close to so many, the constant noise was driving me crazy. I didn't know exactly what I did want but it wasn't this

I started looking for a job because I figured at least I could get a small place and escape the living deal it might make the rest bearable.

As fate / coincidence / whatever would have it, around this time I saw a guy I vaguely knew, not a student but from the neighborhood. He was putting a note up for a housemaid in the library. I spent a lot of time at the library, mostly reading pornographic novels and wondering how I could make those things happen to me. I spent more time doing that than studying. Unfortunately, sluttery it wasn't a degree option.

I guess I'm kind of clever, prettyish, big nipples, smallish tits, a permanently wet pussy, skinny and blonde. I was fairly inexperienced sexually at the time. I had suspected for a while I was a slut but I didn't know how to become the real deal. I loved to suck cock more than get fucked. I'd deduced I was certainly a submissive. I found I was often left frustrated by the gentle nature of the boys I'd had sex with.

The term' housemaid'( which was the job title on the flier) struck me as interesting, it sounded old fashioned and somehow suitable for me. Instead of writing the number down, I hurried after him and got to him before he left the building, he left the notice up but I scored an interview for the vague old times sake. I learned later it was more because he recognized the submissive potential in me. As I've got older, I've noticed Dominant types have an excellent radar for picking out submissives, they often see it before the sub has fully realized it themselves.

The job was in the home of the guy I vaguely knew and his stepbrother, both a few years older than me. They had been left a fairly large house and a comfortable income that they supplemented with engineering work . They had decided to find a suitable 'maid' because they both objected to doing women's work, laundry, cleaning, cooking and so on. I found their honest and misogynic attitude inexplicably arousing. They gave me the job for the same reason the older one had given me the interview. Because they could see what I could be turned into.

At first the rules were almost nothing, the lists of chores not exactly taxing. They did insist on me calling them 'Sir' or Mr..... I could wear my own clothes which mainly consisted of shorts and vest tops, partly because it was easy to clean in them, partly because it was as close as I could dare to actively dressing like a slut, back then I still thought being a slut was a bad thing. I didn't bother with much make-up and put my hair in ponytails. I had never really bothered with bras, partly because it seemed pointless with such little tits and mostly I clicked early guys like to see hard nipples through thin fabric. I was attracted to them both but I wasn't brave enough to act on it. I had no idea how to tell if they thought I was attractive, they treated me nicely but showed no sign of wanting to fuck me. I kept the house spotless, cooked, shopped and did everything they asked obediently.

I'd been going there a couple of weeks, one night while I served them dinner it came up in conversation that I was unhappy at college. They suggested I became a live in at their house and look for something I liked. So I did. My room was in the middle of theirs and I would lie awake at night wondering if they wanted to fuck me, quietly but violently masturbating as I imagined them using me. I had no way of knowing everything I did in that room and my small bathroom was on camera.

I guess my induction really started the day I accidentally broke the hoover. It was kind of old and it was the first thing I'd done wrong. They were nice enough, but explained I'd still have to be punished. I nodded not really understanding, figuring they'd dock my wages for the purchase of a new one.

That wasn't what they meant.

I'd been bent over a waist high table, my shorts yanked roughly down and my legs kicked apart. A brief pause and I heard their belts unbuckling. Both of them belted my naked ass, hard! A moan of disappointment escaped me when they stopped after they'd each given me a few hits. I began to understand. The worst part of the belting was the humiliation of them knowing I wasn't wearing panties and that my cunt was dripping hotly and copiously down my thighs while the punishment was meted out. They didn't mention it but I know they saw and heard the wet smack when the belt landed on my cunt.

I went to bed enjoying the residual pain in my ass, slightly depressed because I figured they couldn't be interested in fucking me or surely they would have done so when my dripping slutholes were exposed for the belting. Again I couldn't understand why the humiliation of being exposed and their disinterest in fucking me arousing . Using two dildos, one jammed deep in my cunt, the other in my ass I masturbated hard, imagining they were inside me until I reached orgasm. I don't remember falling asleep.

When I got up the next morning and went to get dressed, I noticed an awful lot of my clothes had been removed from the closet. Only the shortest skirts and dresses remained , a few pairs of hot pant style shorts, my tightest jeans ripped so they had more holes than jeans. Skimpy tops only. A few pairs of panties in the drawers but my small selection of bras had gone. The area for shoes was also empty. My dildos had gone. I went to use the bathroom and found the door locked as was the one leading to the hallway. Utterly confused I sat on the edge of the bed in my flimsy nightgown.

They came for me about 30 minutes later. Without saying a word, grabbed my hair , ripped the night gown off me and when I was naked, dragged painfully using my hair, into the lounge where I was made to kneel in front of their chairs, eyes down and hands behind my back.

My collar and the future expectations for me were laid out. I didn't have to agree, it didn't seem like a choice thing. Everything they told me was going to happen made perfect sense to me. I felt a sense of security take over me the moment I happily sacrificed all my decision making privileges and become their house cunt.

I was no longer responsible for anything other than obeying and serving them. I would no longer decide what to wear, when to eat. I could no longer masturbate or orgasm without permission. It was up to them to whom I could talk to or fuck. I was to serve every need they had, not just the domestic ones. I was their possession - a set of cockholes, a pet fuckpig . They would feed, clothe and take care of whatever material needs they saw fit.

The collar was pretty, smooth leather and shiny hardware. I wanted it more badly than anything in my life.

A hanging tag engraved on one side with THIS CUNT IS OWNED by and their details. The other side was etched Fuckpig, a pair of matching leashes sat with it. It locked in the back and they each held a key. Just looking at it sitting on the table as they explained made me weak with excitement. My cunt was dripping visibly onto the carpet before they even put it on my neck.

The took me with brutal force as soon as the collar was locked onto me. I'd never really understood the saying 'fucked like an animal' but I learned it quickly that morning. They forced me to eat their assholes before they rammed their heavy cocks into me, beating, choking and spitting on me while they mercilessly fucked my holes for what felt like hours, pulling out of one and going straight into another, when they'd had enough, I was discarded, thrown down onto the floor while they emptied their bladders into my mouth and gaping, spunk filled asshole.

I was barely able to move when they'd finished with me - just stayed there, lying helplessly on the floor, bruised, sore, dripping with cum and piss and begging for permission to orgasm.

I finally understood. It took just that simple act of collaring to turn me into the bitch cunt I was destined to be.

I had no need to look for work as I'd planned. My main focus was to make sure they had everything they needed but I was still expected to make myself useful and profitable in other ways suited to my status. Sometimes during the day, I'd get a call telling me to be ready because someone had paid them to come and use me. Mostly sucking dick. I loved how the strangers (to me anyway!) would knock, enter and force me to my knees, often right there in hallway, use my throat and leave again.

My room was altered. The dividing walls at the sides replaced with a barred gate arrangement - like a cell between their bedrooms on either side. I was no longer allowed to use the toilets. Animals go outside when their owners allow them to.

They hand feed me from their cupped palms most of the time. It draws attention in the same way my collar and leash do when we go out for dinner. I find it interesting how often people brave or curious people will ask about the set up. I am always happy to explain that they feed me like an animal, because I'm a fuckpig.

Most of the staff in the places we go know us and my drinks in those places are always 'Slutinis', made so by the addition of spunk from a bartender or waiter... They feed me that way at home as well but sometimes I have a bowl on the floor like a pet should. I have a water bowl and my room has a pet bottle that fixes to the bars - like rabbits have- but I don't need to use the water bowl and bottle much, I'm kept very well hydrated with all the piss and cum that gets supplied to me through the day.

They pick my clothes out daily.They insist I wear make up, red lipsticks and dark eyes that smudge when they spat, pissed or spunked on my face. I rarely got to wear shoes because I didn't need to leave the house much unless they are taking me somewhere. They felt that shoes gives cunts ideas above their station.

I go about the day dressed as they decided, sometimes I get instructed to change. Whatever I'm wearing my collar is always in place. In the house I was usually just wear shorts, they like me to wear those but no top. I have to open the door without getting dressed if anyone knocks or I am punished. I can't get away with anything. The house has cameras everywhere I am always being watched. Of course I tested the camera claim, pulling a robe on for the postman one time and masturbating without permission once. For covering up I was whipped so badly when they came home I really couldn't sit or walk comfortably for two days. For the masturbation I was tied to a frame and my cunt was beaten with the riding crop until it was too sore to even stand the slightest touch and then left on the frame and fucked relentlessly for hours, the loads of spunk stinging my punished clit until I was sobbing with pain and eventually, when they'd got bored with beating and fucking me I was denied permission to orgasm for 7 days.

Another thing they did soon after taking possession of me was mark me. A brand of their initials on my ass and one that says 'Owned' on my cunt mound. A 'urinal and cum dump' tattoo on my inner lip. 'Cock Whore' and 'Cum Slut' on my wrists and 'fuckpig' on the back of my neck above my collar - I like those tattoos the best because everyone can see them and know what I am.

The branding excited me the most overall though - not just the pain of having applied. The way it made me feel like the animal they'd turned me into...Being taken into the barn on my lead, strapped to the wooden frame and the sizzling metal making me scream louder than I believed possible. The small group - my owners and the guys from the farm where I was being branded stood watching the process and laughing at my helpless screams and soaking wet cunt as the irons were applied, first to my mound, then on the side of my ass, despite the indescribable agony I was still begging for permission to cum. When I was done the small group were happy to cool the burn with streams of piss.

My owners are proud of the branding and often order me to show it to people. I know I should feel humiliated when they demand I show it in public but I'm not. Of course they didn't like to spend more money than was necessary on me, so the tattooist and the branding guy made an arrangement to use my holes to cover the costs.

I was surprised they didn't insist on getting my small tits fixed but they decided to leave them as they are. They think I have enough there for the purpose of hurting - which is the only good use they can see for any woman's tits. They agree it is humiliating for a slut to have small tits and regularly mock the size of them while they torture them. The younger likes to put pictures of my pathetic tits up online so the world at large can join in with humiliating me on that score.

I rarely get called anything but Cunt now, to the point I don't automatically respond to my given name anymore. I get a little wet every time I hear them call me Cunt. Especially on the occasions they feel they need to introduce me to people - 'this is our little Cunt'.

If anyone had told me I'd love every aspect of being reduced to such depravity I doubt I'd have believed I'd fall this far into it or that it would make me so happy. Even when I was in the library craving domination I never imagined I'd crave some of the things I'd be required to do or that I'd want to live this 24/7. I thought I'd like being fucked and maybe partly controlled by one man. Now, it doesn't feel right unless I'm being used by at least two men.

I thought I'd hate having to do things like eat my owners assholes or being used as a urinal by every man that visits our home and needs to take a piss. I thought I'd be ashamed of sucking stranger's cock for money and being branded a whore. I was wrong, those are the things I beg for the hardest and the things that make me feel most validated.