Kate's Ball: Training Kate: The Submission of a Maid, #3

By Ellen Dominick

The party has finally started. Kate, a submissive maid, has been given to an older couple for training. They are going to teach her how submit completely, and not just to them. Today is the big ball, and everyone that's invited can treat Kate as their sexual toy. Toys, whips, collars, and anything you can think of are on the menu. Will she be able to submit to being the party entertainment and getting taken in front of everyone?

Explicit:  This kinky 13,000 word story contains explicit scenes of anal, vaginal, and public sex, exhibitionism, BDSM,  spanking , gangbangs, menage, and the totally domination of Kate by sexy partygoers.  It is of adult nature and meant for readers over 18 years of age.

Excerpt:
I head back into the fray. This time, a young man stops me. He has kind grey eyes and his suit is sleekly tailored. His hair is so thick and honey brown that I want to tangle my fingers in it.
He picks up the paddle.
“What’s all of this about?” he asks. He picks up each thing on the tray, turning them around in his hands. He must be new.
“You can use them,” I say.
“Use them, how?” he asks. Now he has the whipped cream in his hand. He pops the top off and squirts a mountain of white fluff on the tip of his tongue.
“On me,” I say.
His eyes grow large, and he stares at me.
“Wait, really?” he asks. I just smile at him. A red blush creeps up his neck from the collar of his shirt and he starts looking at all of his choices. Then he looks at the whipped cream that is already in his hand.
“I can use this?” he asks, “On you?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Anyway you like,” I say.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kink and a Half Press
• Release date: Aug 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9781501464652

Book preview

The room is suffused with light. Michel’s lips are on mine. They taste sugary sweet. I tell him that I miss him. He hushes me and puts his hand between my legs. I grind against him. He feels soft, so soft against my cheek.

Wake up, sleepyhead!

Isabel and Christine pull me out of bed together. I can still smell myself on my hand. Great, it’s morning.

I let myself be pulled and pushed in their hands. I am handed a toothbrush. I am pushed into the bathroom. It is too early for all of this.

How was your first day? Isabel calls.

I mumble back to her over toothpaste. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror. When I finish, I barely splash my face with water. When I come out of the bathroom, I tell her.

Long, I say. Painful.

Ah, you mean Albert? she says as she undresses me. That would explain those bruises. I guess he likes you.

She doesn’t explain and I am dunked in the bath. The water is so hot that it shocks me awake. I don’t have time to scramble out, because a bucketful is dumped over my head.

I gasp for air.

Oh, sorry, Christine says. Maybe I should have warned you? She laughs and smiles at me. She feels warmer than before. Looking into her eyes, I remember the feel of her. I look away and smile.

It’s fine. I know you guys have to scrub me down.

They wash me again, and use the warming soap. When I reach for Isabel, she slaps my hand.

Master’s orders, she says. No naughty business.

I cock my eyebrows. I wonder why. The heat between my legs grows, and I have to stop myself from grinding my legs together.

Out of the bath. Drying. On with the uniform. Rouge. Makeup. Hair. Collar.

Honestly, they didn’t even need to use blush. All I can think about is my pussy. The feeling of the air against it, cooling the heat just a little. The juices that I can feel collecting, wondering if it will trickle down my legs. Ok, not just my pussy. I keep thinking about my nipples. Every time that Isabel and Christine graze them with their arms as they dress me, they are on fire. They have hardened into two tiny little dots in the pinkness of my large areolae.

I press my lips agains’t Isabel’s, tasting her saliva. She struggles at first, but then she gives in. Her lips open to mine, and I feel the warmth of her mouth. Then she pushes me away.

Not allowed. She smacks my hand with a hairbrush as she says it.

This is going to be a long day.

When I leave them I head downstairs. Right. Breakfast. There is another paper there with a list for me.

Helen will be having a cappuccino today, with madelines. Further instructions for the cappuccino are next to the espresso machines. You can find the madelines in the sweets jar. Albert will be having Greek yogurt with toasted muesli and orange juice. Christine toasted the muesli last night, and it can be found in the pantry. You must squeeze the oranges yourself. Great.

I daydream for a while over the whirring of the cappuccino machine. The house looks so calm now. Birds are chirping outside, and the sun shines on the endless green of their backyard. The kitchen is spotless, except for where I am making breakfast. The room I can see from here looks still, like it came straight out of a catalogue. Was it once rowdy with the noise of children, or was it always like this? Perfect?

The machine has stopped whirring. The espresso has been sitting there so long that it’s gone cold. Well, time to make a new one.

When I finish breakfast, I set everything on the table. I sneak in some food for myself before they come downstairs, just leftover muesli and some coffee.

Then I sit on the floor next to the table. I make sure to open my legs and I sit on my heels, and the warmth there becomes even more distracting. I think of