Part III: A Day in the Life of Carrie

Carrie was on her knees in front of the managing partner in his large office. He had a fistful of hair and moaned softly as he slid his manhood in and out of the warm, wet mouth. Carrie had done this enough times to hear the change in the pitch of his low noises and know that she would soon be swallowing a large shot of cum. She prepared herself and, within seconds, he shoved his massive cock as deep as possible and fired his load. Though his forceful ejaculation had quickly filled the woman's mouth with semen, Carrie had to open her mouth as wide as possible and wait patiently to catch her share.

Carrie eagerly ate every glob of goo as it dripped from her mother's severed esophagus. After a moment, her boss removed Cassie's head from his shaft and handed it to her daughter. He watched in amusement as Carrie stuck her tongue into the dead woman's open mouth to retrieve as much of his seed as possible.

"Don't forget the bottom," he told his slave was a trickle of sperm oozed out the preserved head's open throat.

"Yes, sir," Carrie responded obediently as she turned her mother's head upside down and slipped her tongue into the cummy hole.

"Good, girl," he smiled as he patted the top of her head patronizingly. "Now you can go clean my toy off for next time."

"Of course, sir," Carrie responded as she stood and straightened her skirt - it was early enough in the day that she still had her clothes on and for some reason she didn't understand, the managing partner never made her strip.

Of all the people in the office there were only two who never made use of Carrie's sexual services and he was one. She had thought that the only reason he hadn't taken advantage of her that first day was because he had already spent two loads in her mother. But since that day he still had never made use of her. She had caught him eyeing her multiple times, even before he had demoted her from lawyer to sex slave, but apart from watching her eat cum out of her dead mother's mouth, he behaved like a perfect gentleman towards her… and she wished he'd stop.

In her previous lifetime, when Carrie had been an up and coming lawyer, she had been attracted to him. He was middle aged and handsome, but what really drew her attention was the air of power he projected. Of course, now that she'd seen the size of his member, that certainly played a role in her desire. She understood his refrain when she'd been a real employee, but why was the man who had stripped her of her status not only as an attorney, but as independent woman, (soon even as a person) denying himself her body.

What baffled her even more was that he frequently called her to his office to assist him in making use of his favorite toy. Whenever she was summoned, Carrie knew to immediately open the bottom, and largest, drawer in his desk, and remove the special item kept there: her mother's severed head, Cassandra's mouth frozen forever in open anticipation of her master's cock. She would lube the protruding tongue with warming gel, then shove the pretty trophy onto her boss's engorged member. She would work his cock until he neared orgasm, then he would either order her to finish, as he had today, or she would have to jerk him off so his cum would cover Cassandra's face. Then he'd watch as Carrie ate the sperm from her mother's face. Either way, Carrie ended up with a meal of sperm without the pleasure that could come with earning it herself. When he was finished, he would leave it to Carrie to clean his trophy so it would be ready for next time.

Carrie failed to understand why he preferred to use her mother's dead head instead of her warm, soft flesh.

Carrie started towards the door.

"Oh, one more thing, Carrie," the managing partner said.

"Yes, sir," she replied with her hand on the door.

He crossed the room and kissed her gently on the forehead. "Happy birthday, Carrie."

"Thank you," she replied with a warm smile. For a moment as she walked back to her own office, she was reminded of what her life had once been. But the moment quickly passed.

Every day Carrie would start with the same routine she'd always had: hair, makeup, suit. She would walk out her door looking the professional she had always dreamed of being, with the one obvious exception of the dog collar. As she went down the street, into the building that housed her firm, up the elevator to the office, she ignored the curious glaces her one mark of servitude drew.

When she reached the firm, she would walk to the office. It had become a morning ritual for every member of the firm to fondle, grope, squeeze, or smack some part of her body as she passed by. When she reached her office, she had nothing to do but wait. She would watch everyone in the office as they busied themselves with mountains of paperwork. Carrie's desk was bare. All of her former clients had long since been reassigned to people who were still lawyers living the life she'd worked so hard to earn and then had taken away.

It wouldn't be long before one of these people came to put her to work. She had been humiliated the first time a former equal had simply walked into her office, pulled out his dick, and pushed it in her mouth. However, Carrie had quickly come to realize that she now had no purpose here but to provide sexual pleasure. With nothing else to do, she came to welcome nearly every visitor, as it alleviated her boredom. Over the ensuing months, she eventually came to embrace her new role. She no longer studied cases, now she studied the preferences of everyone in the office. Her desk drawers were no longer filled with office supplies, but rather with toys, hand cuffs, leashes, chains and ropes, vibrators, gags, whips, and all manner of bondage objects.

Each day, Carrie would spend the first hour or two in mind numbing boredom waiting for someone, anyone, to decide they needed a release. When the first person came to her door, she would now instinctively reach for whatever she knew they would most likely want to use on her. As often as not, Carrie would end up bound to her chair or desk or the hooks that now studded her office wall for the express purpose of restraining her. She would feel the sting of a whip on her back or buttocks. Or the bite of tiny clamps on her nipples or clit. She would have a cock shoved in one of her holes or have feminine legs wrapped around her head. When they were finished with Carrie, she would be left sticky and naked, sometimes still bound, to await the next person.

Sometimes an important client would be invited to visit Carrie in her office. Many were nervous about the idea of fucking someone in their lawyer's office so it fell to Carrie to initiate the encounter. She had never had any problems making the first move, but where before it would mean flirting or subtle contact, it now usually meant stripping, dropping to her knees, and unzipping their pants.

There was one person she had come to count on servicing nearly everyday… Samantha. It wasn't enough for her to have taken Carrie's job - her future. She wanted to lord it over her fallen foe. While others enjoyed reminding Carrie of her subservience, no one relished humiliating her like Samantha. She would call Carrie into her office, order her to strip and lay down, then Samantha would sit on her face to be eaten out while fucking her with various office supplies. Or she would tie Carrie to a chair and masturbate her with a powerful vibrator until Carrie's clit could take it no more. When Carrie begged her to stop, she would shove a ball gag in her mouth and continue torturing her cunt while fingering her own until Carrie's suffering had given her a satisfying number of orgasms.

It was Samantha who had the idea of screwing hooks into the wall in Carrie's office so that she could be bound to her own wall. It had become her favorite game to gag and blindfold Carrie, then tie her spread eagle to the wall. She would then whip Carrie or zap her with a cattle prod and masturbate to her stifled cries. Samantha would finish by fucking her helpless victim with a huge strap-on which had purchased shortly after Carrie had been made the office slut. Carrie suspected that she'd bought it not only because she enjoyed causing Carrie pain, but because Samantha had always wanted everyone in the office to know she was the one with the biggest dick.

But, as much as she hated giving Samantha pleasure, Carrie had come to enjoy licking her clit and having the massive dildo invade her. But not for the reasons anyone might expect.

The only other exception, besides the managing partner, to everyone at the firm enjoying access to Carrie's incredible body was her friend, Lauren. Despite Carrie's reassurances that she would gladly get on her knees for Lauren, her friend had resisted her advances. Carrie didn't know whether her refusal to give in was just because she was steadfastly heterosexual or whether Lauren still harbored respect for her despite the fact that she left the office every day with disheveled, torn, or even missing clothes, but wearing her coworkers' sexual secretions.

Carrie could understand a straight woman's rebuffs of a lesbian liaison, but it still frustrated her that her desire for Lauren would go unrequited.

Carrie was vexed by the fact that the two people at the firm who attracted her most were the the only two who denied themselves her body. Whenever another member of the firm, especially Samantha, bent her over a desk, Carrie fantasized it was the managing partner's massive penis inside her. And whenever she had her face buried in the crotch of one of her female coworkers, again especially Samantha, she imagined herself pleasuring Lauren's shaved sex.

Carrie may arrive at work everyday looking clean and professional, but she left disheveled and covered in sperm and vaginal fluid. As she rode the elevator to the lobby everyday, the other professionals who worked in the building always got a good laugh. It hadn't taken long for the whole building to learn of the slut lawyer. The lift was frequently crowded with people snickering at her. Carrie ignored the laughs, cat calls, and wondering hands.

Frequently, one of the partners would decide to take Carrie home for an evening's entertainment. When they did, Carrie usually found herself being led from the office on a leash. If Samantha took her home, then Carrie could count on not only being leashed, but led naked with her hands bound behind her back. On a few occasions, Samantha had blindfolded her as well, forcing Carrie to rely on the leash follow her. Of course, Samantha took juvenile pleasure in occasionally running Carrie into wall or door. Carrie knew it wasn't just an immature prank, but a small reminder that Carrie was entirely at the mercy of a woman who reveled in her vulnerability. If Carrie went to Samantha's home blindfolded and bound, then she knew she'd remain that way all night. Samantha and her man would have total control of her. Carrie didn't mind being used by Samantha's partner, he wasn't a bad guy. Too good for the woman he was with, in Carrie's opinion. But having to obey Samantha's every word, not just because she was a slave, but being made dependent on her completely was almost too much.

Fortunately, Carrie didn't have to endure that indignity often. This was still a very busy law firm and it's employees were usually too involved in work to dedicate an entire evening to playing with her body. Most evenings Carrie left her office a hot mess, braved the elevator of obnoxious and handsy professionals, and just acted like she was ignoring the awkward stares of strangers on the street as she made her way home to serve Hilary.

When Carrie reached her office, she found another of the firm's female attorneys, Amanda, seated in her chair, nude from the waist down, touching herself. "There you are, Carrie. It's about time. I've been waiting almost five minutes."

Carrie knew it would be useless to object. Amanda could clearly see that she was carrying her mother's sticky head by the hair. Everyone in the office knew what that meant. Having to wait was just be a flimsy excuse to cause her some pain.

"I had come to simply be eaten out, but now I think you should be punished for making me wait," Amanda said with a smile that was mostly playful.

"Yes, miss. I must be taught a lesson," Carrie responded. She lay Cassandra's head on her desk and immediately began to stripe as Amanda searched her desk drawers for a toy that struck her fancy. It didn't take her long to decide.

Once Carrie was naked, she was ordered to open her mouth wide. Amanda propped her mouth open with a ring gag. Carrie was ordered to stand with her back to the wall of her office that was studded with steel hooks, before being ordered to her knees and to reach behind her and grasp her ankles.

Amanda quickly knelt and cuffed wrist to ankle on each side and secured the cuffs to the wall. Finally she clipped a leash to the collar Carrie had been commanded to always wear. She pulled the leash up until it stretched Carrie's neck as far a possible without strangling her. Amanda took up a stance directly in front of Carrie and shoved the girl's face into her snatch.

While the leash was carefully positioned to allow Carrie to breathe almost fully, as Amanda pushed her forward a few inches to a place where her tongue could reach the wet slit between her legs, the collar became tighter. The auto-erotic effect of barely being able to breathe was compounded by the taste of Amanda's juices and the sounds of her pleasure. Carrie quickly grew so aroused she was certain the carpet beneath her must be getting damp. She longed to have something, anything, inside her, or to have anything she could rub against her clit, but she couldn't even rub her knees together. Carrie could do nothing to ease the agony of unfulfilled arousal as Amanda cried out in glorious release time after time.

When Amanda had finally gotten her fill, she released Carrie's head and allowed the girl to try and catch her breathe as much as possible with the leash still holding her. Amanda knelt by Carrie. "I know that turned you on. I know what a slut you really are." She lightly touched the inside of Carrie's thigh. "Look how wet you are. I'll bet you'd like a little help, wouldn't you?"

Carrie nodded. She felt Amanda's fingertips lightly trace a path up her leg and around her shaved mound, but not actually entering her sex.

"Well, Carrie, do you want me to press your little button?"

"Yeth… Yeth pleathe," Carrie drooled through the gag, desperate for an orgasm.

Amanda traced her finger around the rim of Carrie's slit, but was careful not to touch the sensitive flesh. Her teasing brought Carrie close to tears. She was so near a sweet orgasm, she knew the game Amanda was playing. She'd have to let the girl have her fun, then have her own when Amanda grew tired, released her, and left. Or…

Carrie was certain a single touch could make her cum. She mentally tracked the course of Amanda's fingertip around her pelvis. She waited… then thrust her hips forward quickly.

Amanda's fingers barely grazed her most sensitive spot. The touch sent a electric thrill through Carrie, but it wasn't enough. Amanda withdrew her hand. "Now, now Carrie. That was very wrong. It's not for you try and get an orgasm for yourself. It's for your masters to decide whether or not you've earned one. I was getting around to giving you what you want, but after that selfish display, I think not. In fact, I think I'll just leave you as you are, so you won't be able to pleasure yourself once I'm gone."

'Fuck!' Carrie thought. Amanda started to leave. "PLETHE!" she pleaded. "

Amanda stopped. "It seems that you should have learned your place by now. I think I'll let everyone know that you're in here with a waiting mouth, but that you have forfeited the chance to cum today."

Amanda was true to her word. Carrie spent the entire day bound to her wall. Nearly every one of her coworkers paid her a visit for her oral services, but no one would grant her satisfaction. Carrie thought she would lose her mind from the inability to quench burning between her legs.

The brief parts of the day when she didn't have cock or cunt shoved in her face, Carrie was left to stare across her office at the birthday card the one person who still saw her as a person, Lauren, had left on her desk early that morning, her mother's severed head she still had to clean, and the large calendar Samantha had posted on her wall which starkly reminded her that this would be her last birthday. Her final birthday and rather than receiving gifts she was being denied want she had come to view as one of life's essentials.

The date marked at the end of her calendar mocked Carrie also with the thought that she had only weeks left before she would meet her Dolcett fate.