I Own You Now

“we're going to get a long juuust fine. As long as you do whatever I say.” Bianca said it casually, typing on her smart phone.

“What? No! No way!” Amy seethed with rage. There was no “I'm leaving right now to demand that I be assigned a different roommate. Have a nice life but stay the hell away from me.”

Amy turned to march away, only to stop cold when she heard a voice she recognized. Her own.

“I'm a little slut,” the voice was saying. Amy spun back around in horror. Bianca was holding up her phone, playing a video. In the video, Amy was sitting on the floor of the girls locker room pinching her nipple with one hand and slowly pushing a melting cherry Popsicle in and out of her bald pussy.

“All I want is dick, bu...but none of the boys want me because of...ugh...because of my boy-chest,” her voice in the video said. Amy watched in horror as her former self started to moan and arch her back, fucking herself harder and harder with the Popsicle until she spasmed in a powerful orgasm that made her eyes roll back into her head. “Oh my god,” a voice said from off camera, “she really likes it.”

Amy remembered that day, just a couple months ago after gym class. The video didn't show how she had been blackmailed to cooperate, nor how she had cried with shame when they had made her clean the Popsicle afterwards. It just showed her making herself cum and looking like a depraved slut. And maybe she was one—despite the discomfort of the ice cold Popsicle and the hard tile floor, despite (or maybe because) her shame and humiliation, that had been the single best orgasm of Amy's young life.

“It would be a shame,” Bianca said, “if that were the first impression the whole school has of you, wouldn't it?”

“You...you wouldn't.”

“Oh, I think you know me better than that, Boy-chest. It's so helpful that the school provides a list of e-mail addresses for all the students and faculty, isn't it?”

Amy started to sop, uncontrollably, “but...but...this was supposed to be my fresh start!”

Bianca slapped her hard. “Oh, don't worry, I won't ruin your life unless you make me. If you follow my rules, we can keep it to ourselves that you're a little humiliation slut.

“Wha...what rules?” Amy sniffled, frightened.

“Simple. You. Are. Mine. You do everything I say. Everything. Without question. You do my homework, you do my laundry, and most importantly, you humiliate yourself for my amusement whenever I want. I'll punish you when you displease me, or when it would entertain me. And, of course, you tell no one. From here on out, no matter what I make you do, if anyone else sees you'll pretend it was your idea and you're having fun. Understand?”

Amy nodded, she did understand. She was going to be in hell for the next 4 years—so why was it making her feel horny?

“Good, now unpack and get ready. We've got a big night ahead of us.”

“What's happening tonight?”