I’d been stripped naked before being carried up the stairs and thrown on the bed. Stripped might be too polite a term. My clothes had been torn from...me. My dress in shreds, my bra and panties ruined.“Fuck slaves don’t get to wear clothes,” my Miss had told me as what was left of my garments was tossed aside leaving me with only my pretty pink collar encircling my throat.Sometimes I was her slut or her whore. Or so many of the other humiliating names she called me. Today was different. I was her. However, she, too, had treated me like I was beneath her and far out of my reach, and the worse she treated me, the more my stupid ass liked her. Still though, I secretly would’ve like to have been able to kiss her lovely and full lips and taste them just once, but it never happened, and I knew that it was a case of wishful thinking my part… ~~~~~~ HER My name is Sarah Taylor, and this is a story about how I met the one man who I never thought in a million years would become my husband. From. More

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