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some bath salts and peeked around the door. She was still languishing on the bed. I figured she was probably listening for the water to stop which meant I had maybe a minute before she’d get up. I ducked back inside the bathroom. I only needed thirty seconds. I buried my hand in my pussy and started stroking my clit frantically. “Oh my god,” I thought, “here it comes…oh my…”
    “What the fuck are you doing?” Sara screamed, grabbing my wrist and removing my hand just milliseconds from oblivion.
    My body rebelled like an addict denied his drug of choice. I had needed that orgasm badly. I was lost. My world compressed to where it seemed as if I were at the bottom of a very deep well with just a pinprick of light and distorted sound reaching me. Someone was slapping my face and screaming at me. Reality came back.
    “You little slut,” she said in the coldest voice I had ever heard, “I am going to punish you for this. I had thought that I’d scare you a bit with my talk of finding a ‘permanent solution’ but actually let you earn some indulgence every month or so. No more. Your little defiance has pissed me off. I’m going to find some kind of very permanent chastity device to put on you and your sentence is one year. One year, Kimmy, and if I catch you again it will be two.”
    My brain refused to process what she was saying. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. How had this happened to me? I’d gone from an independent, hip single woman to a slave with no rights in less than a day and all because my best friend had made some videos. The thought of a year without being able to touch myself was terrifying.
    “I love that look, Kimmy,” she purred. “That look of horror and disbelief. I’ve watched those videos so many times. Mom could always bring that out it in you. You craved that feeling, didn’t you, Kimmy? Being completely helpless, forced to service my mother and then spanked whenever she felt like it because she could do whatever she wanted with you. But, it was always a game with you two, wasn’t it? She always let you off the hook at the end, didn’t she? Not any more, Kimmy, not any more. The spankings are going to be real from now on with no pot of gold at the end of your rainbow.”
    She reached over, turned off the water, climbed into the tub and sat back.
    “Start at my neck,” she ordered, and take your time.”
    The bath was torture because I used to do the same for her mother but somehow it had always ended with the two of us in bed making love. This was as if she was Cleopatra and I was some servant girl who didn’t even rate a second look much less a word of kindness.
    After I fixed her breakfast she had me kneel next to her chair while she ate and read the morning paper. The doorbell rang at precisely ten o’clock.
    Looking up from her paper with a smile she said, “Answer it, Kimmy.”
    I crawled to the door and opened it to the beaming face of Mrs. Fitch. She walked right past me as if I weren’t there and went into the kitchen.
    “Good morning, Sara,” she bubbled, “I’m here to help.”
    “Good morning, Helga, right on time I see,” Sara laughed.
    “What can I do?”
    “Sit down and have some breakfast, Helga, and we’ll talk.”
    Mrs. Fitch sat down. I served her some coffee and toast and resumed my place kneeling by my owner’s chair while they visited. Once in a while one of them would hold out a morsel for me to eat but otherwise I was ignored. When they finished eating the conversation turned to me.
    “I need you to watch her for most of the day,” my owner said, “as I have to wind up my mother’s affairs, arrange for the movers to bring my stuff here and look into what might be available to keep her straying hands at bay.”
    “So you were really serious about that,” Mrs. Fitch gasped.
    “We had a little incident this morning that hardened my resolve,” my owner stated. “I caught her trying to play with herself and it pissed me off.”
    “Did