Sunlight reflected off the shining frames of her shades, and gently settled upon Andrea’s skin wherever her lounge-chair’s umbrella failed to cast its shadow. The cool sweat of a freshly blended margarita dripped onto her knuckles as she lazily sipped at the tart, refreshing drink. There had been a strange, salty, heady taste in her mouth, but that took care of the issue perfectly. Beside her one of her pets—Alayna? Or was it Corrine? One of the redheads. Andrea had a hard time keeping track of their names—clad in nothing but a bra and short shorts, slowly, rhythmically waving a palm-frond over her Mistress; the docile, empty smile plastered on her face matched her vacant eyes. Resting atop her, with her head gently placed against Andrea’s breast, was far and away the Mistress’ absolute favorite of all her pets, Rose. Smiling affectionately, Andrea brushed her fingers through Rose’s adorable little pixie-cut, eliciting a soft coo. Andrea giggled, and in response, the treasured pet nuzzled against her Mistress languidly. Getting to spend every morning like this—in the warm sunlight, tended to by beautiful women and cuddling with her most precious possession—was, to Andrea, simply paradise.

What wasn’t paradise, was the scoff she heard across her, snapping her from her moment of revelry and causing her to glare down her nose at the woman seated across her. While Andrea was happy using her gift to maximize her personal pleasure, her ‘peer’ Laureen Wilcox seemed intent on dominating others simply for the sake of a never ending power grab. 

It sounded absolutely nightmarish. The woman had caught heavens knew how many within her web, and for what? A two percent revenue increase this quarter compared to the last one? It sounded dreadfully stressful all for a few extra hundred million compared to Andrea’s own seemingly boundless wealth. Regardless, until Andrea addressed the problem of her presence, the insufferable woman would be going nowhere. For good measure though, just to make the snooty little bitch stew in her doubtlessly seething anger, Andrea took a long, relishing sip of her drink, taking care to conspicuously groan and shudder in pleasure. She pulled the glass from her lips, swirled the margarita around in her hands for a moment, watching the liquid lazily, then finally, cast her eyes on Laureen. “Is there a particular reason you’re here?” She asked, hoping it was possible to make the disinterest and disdain in her voice take physical shape. 

Across from her, Laureen was Andrea’s opposite perhaps to the point of parody. While Andrea lounged in sunglasses and a bathing suit surrounded and doted upon by scantily clad, blissed out bombshells, Laureen sait with picturesque poise and posture. Her back was rigid as the stick likely lodged all the way up her ass. Her suit was crisp, dirty blonde hair done in an immaculate bun, and her eyes conveyed nothing but a cutthroat drive barely restrained by dwindling patience. “I am here, Andrea, because you requested my presence.” She folded one leg over the other, then placed her hands in her lap, fixing Andrea with an intense stare. “You contacted me to discuss business. Are we going to do so or will you continue to waste my very, very valuable time.”

Perhaps she was slightly tipsy, given that Andrea was already on her fourth drink of the morning, or perhaps she’d simply slept too long, leaving her mind tired and muddled, but Andrea recalled no such event. “I think you must be mistaken. I tend to leave the day to day operations up to my executive team anyway, it’s likely my people simply contacted your people.” 

Laureen firmly shook her head. “You’re trying my nerves, Andrea, this came for your personal email address. Tell me why I’m here.” 

Stirring slightly, Andrea sat up, arousing a gentle groan of protest from the precious little morsel in her lap. “Hush, you,” Andrea cooed affectionately, then ran her thumb along Rose’s cheek. She caught sight of Laureen huffing in disapproval out of the corner of her eye. Returning her gaze to Laureen, Andrea simply shook her head. “Listen, Ms. Wilcox, I don’t know what to tell you. I have no recollection of such an event. You must be mistaken, I sent you no such correspondence, and I haven’t the slightest idea what business we would even have to discuss.”

“I’ll have you know tha—”

“But, Mistress,” Rose piped up, her voice distant and sleepy.

“Not now, little one.” Gently, Andrea pressed the girl's face into her cleavage, but Rose pressed her head upward against her Mistress’ touch, shaking her head.

“Mistress you did send that email though. I remember, I was there,” Rose insisted. 

“You were?” That earned a simple, slow, dutiful nod from her adorable little pet. “Hmm, I seem to have forgotten then, how curious.” For a few moments, Andrea wracked her brain for answers, and found nothing but foggy confusion. So, instead, she simply shrugged. “Oh well, sorry Laureen, don’t know what to tell you. I’ll have my people get in touch with your people.”

“I can’t believe this,” Laureen spat. “I’m having a hard time even believing this. I mean, which is the greater insult? The fact that you let your slave interrupt me, or the fact that you arranged a meeting between the two of us only to forget why you even did so. You need to straighten out, Andrea. Crack down on this insolent little bimbo you have draped across you and get your shit together, because I won’t forget this. The council will be hearing about my experiences today, you can be sure of that.” 

“Whatever, Karen.” From her chest, Andrea heard the rumbling of Rose giggling at her Mistress’ joke, but before either party could get in another word, they were interrupted by the peppy call of one of Andrea’s other pets. Mellissa? It didn’t matter.

“Mistress!” She chirped, walking toward the trio with a serving tray in hand, a frosty drink balanced atop it. “I have the drink you asked me to bring Miss Laureen.” Just as she passed Andrea and Rose, Rose happened to begin a long, lavish stretch. It seemed the timing was just right for Rose to trip the poor little waitress, sending herself, and the drink toppling forward onto Laureen. At the sight of that uptight bitch suddenly coated in icy daiquiri, Andrea burst into haughty laughter. With a start, Laureen stood, practically frothing at the mouth as she glared down at Andrea. “You listen here you lazy little upstart, I will ruin you for this.” If she had anything else to say, Andrea didn’t catch it. As she spoke, Rose had begun pawing needily at Laureen’s breasts, and grinding against her leg. The sight of her special little pet in heat like that was far more interesting. Without another word, Laureen stormed off as Andrea quietly cackled to herself. She truly had the good life. There was one thing that nagged at her though. 

“You know something, little Rosey? I don’t remember ordering her that drink at all.” 

An innocent giggled rose from Rose’s throat, and she looked down on her pet, smiling affectionately. She reached over to take another sip from her glass. As the liquid touched her tongue, Andrea suddenly felt very drowsy. She closed her eyes.

* * *

Andi sat at her desk, her eyes distant and hazy as she thoughtlessly tapped the keys on her keyboard. Without consciously processing any of it, she finished writing up the documentation she had been instructed to write, attached it to an outgoing email, and hit send. In her ear, someone was speaking. She was on the phone. She heard the words, and some subconscious part of her brain processed them, though whatever semblance of conscious thought she held on to did not understand. The person speaking on the other end paused. This was her cue to reply exactly as she’d been instructed. “Yes, make the arrangements. I’ll sign the official documents when you have them prepared.” Her voice was distant and monotone, the words leaving her lips may well have meant nothing at all. The voice said something else. She hummed an affirmative, and hung up the phone. Her tasks complete, Andi sat motionless, gazing blankly ahead into nothingness, eyes glassy and unfocused. From the corner of the room, she heard a noise, and something compelled Andi to look. Her eyes fell upon Mistress, who immediately commanded the entirety of Andi’s focus. A lazy, dopey smile formed across her lips, her heartbeat picking up and stomach fluttering just at the sight of her owner. 

“You’ve done everything I asked?” She spoke with sharp authority, clear, concise, and efficient, though, not without an undercurrent of affection. 

“Yes, Mistress.” The response came automatically. Andi hadn’t needed a moment to think, or even process her owner’s words. 

“Good plaything.” Without another word, Mistress crossed the room in a few long, purposeful strides and condescendingly scratched her plaything behind the ears. Andi’s legs gave out, and she fell forward into her Mistress, who caught her, then guided her onto her knees. “I have a new task for you, dear.” Chuckling low in her throat, Mistress tilted Andi’s chin upward, forcing her plaything to look up into her Mistress’ eyes. “It’s been nearly a full two hours since you last made me cum. And I’ll start to get impatient if I wait any longer. Make use of that tongue and those lips for me,” she commanded. 

Nothing else needed to be said. Andi breathed a contented, dreamy sigh of “yes, Mistress,” and immediately got to work removing her owner’s pants. The entirety of her attention narrowed to one singular point: making her owner feel good. Before Andi even had time to process her own actions, she had removed Mistress’ pants, and slid off her already damp panties, exposing Mistress’ perfect, sopping wet pussy. It was like a void, a beautiful, perfect abyss that swallowed up all that Andi was save a good, diligent, mindless pussylicker. As she leaned forward, and pressed her lips to Mistress’, Andi’s awareness of the world around her plummeted. She no longer felt the ground beneath her, felt the cool air around her. Nothing mattered but fulfilling her true purpose. Eagerly, Andi dove forward, burying her face in Mistress’ crotch. 

There, she felt whole. She felt as though she’d found her true place nestled between two soft, plump, pillowy thighs. Nothing had ever tasted so sweet as the taste of obedience she found between Mistress' legs. Somewhere above her, somewhere that sounded so far away now, Andi heard her Mistress begin to moan and gasp in time with the flicking of her tongue. Her face was coated in the hot, slick secretions of her Mistress’ warm, wet nethers. And as Mistress grew louder, she allowed the sound to carry her away, off to an even more distant, more vacant, more mindless place. One where she could simply be a toy fulfilling a purpose. Just a good, obedient plaything doing what her very existence revolved around. And it was heaven. 

She let the last remnant of conscious thought slide away, and the good, docile plaything felt nothing but the raw, unimaginable pleasure of obedience drowning all thought. For minutes on end, plaything’s tongue explored the ins and outs of her Mistress’ wet folds. She licked along her labia, sucked her owner’s clit, worked her tongue into her owner as far as it would reach. And, after minutes imperceivable had passed, Mistress finally gasped, clenched her legs, and collapsed forward onto her knees as orgasm rocked her body. Panting in recovery, Mistress raised her eyes to capture plaything’s gaze. “Good girl,” Mistress purred. The concentrated pleasure of Mistress’ praise overwhelmed plaything, leaving her helplessly twitch on the floor in pleasure. A cool, condescending laugh left Mistress’ lips. “Oh dear. That helpless around me already, hmm? You’ve taken so well to your conditioning. I do love seeing you like this. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” Standing Mistress lightly grasped plaything by the hair and forced her gaze upward. “I’m sure you’re already aching to have me finish you off. To bind your will to me for the rest of your days, aren’t you?” 

There was no doubt in plaything’s head what she wanted. “Yes, Mistress! Please! Own me forever, never let me go!” 

Another sharp, condescending laugh pierced the room. “Absolutely precious. I can’t wait to watch that pathetic excuse of a domme persona melt away for good when I make you realize what you’ve become. I think I’ll record it, so I can forever save the memory of the light in your eyes going out one last time. But I’m basically talking to a wall right now. You’ll just happily go along with anything I say, won’t you.”

“Yes, Mistress,” plaything beamed. 

“Well, that’s all the use I can make of you for now. I’ll have one of the servants collect you later. For now, cum, don’t stop until you pass out.” No sooner had the words left Mistress’ lips, did plaything’s entire body erupt in rapturous pleasure. Mistress gave a sweet, condescending smile, then turned to walk away. With each step Mistress took away from plaything, more of her mind shut off, until there was nothing but the feeling of her entire body lighting up in all-consuming pleasure.