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Role Reversal
MF FF blackmail nc Fdom ds
Jill thought her life was reasonably good. She was married, her husband getting ever more successful. The marriage wasn’t the most romantic – comfort, potential riches, and her middle class father’s approval weighed more on Jill’s mind when she married Oliver – but he was a good lover and kept her in the manner to which she had become accustomed, and she felt she couldn’t ask for much more. Approaching her thirtieth birthday, there were no kids, an idea Oliver kept postponing.
About a year ago, Oliver had come into the money at work. They were now living in a plush villa in suburbia. They had recently purchased a slave – first hand at a State Slavery and Auctions Department auction as well (i.e. no previous owner). She – or it, as Jill, who had found herself getting into the role of mistress of the household, like to call her – was in her early twenties, petite with pale skin and dark hair. Jill herself had a pretty face framed by dark hair, but was more voluptuous in a sexy way.
While Oliver was working through the day, it was Jill that oversaw the running of the household. It was the slave that now did all chores, and Jill set them and kept discipline. Her middle class family had had a slave in Jill’s youth, and that was where she had acquired her discipline regime and her view that slaves were sub-human scum that weren’t worth consideration. Jill made a list of all the slave’s tiniest mistakes, and let Oliver punish her at the end of the day at the whipping post. Jill also from time to time issued punishments, such as denial of privileges like clothes. It is perhaps no surprise then that it was Jill’s idea to treat the slave as a dog, making her sleep in a kennel and occasionally crawl humiliatingly.
And so Jill found herself one normal morning issuing a list of orders to the slave in the kitchen. The slave stood meekly in her usual day clothes of nothing but a pair of plain black briefs.
“Do you understand?” Jill finished.
“Yes mistress.”
“Good, you can start scrubbing the floor then.”
“No.”
Jill was so shocked by her slave’s simple but blatant challenge that she didn’t say anything for a few seconds. She had never had a slave show her no respect.
“What did you say, slave?”
“I said no,” her eyes now rose to meet her mistress’s defiantly. “You can do it, you bossy cow.”
“How dare you!” Jill stuttered, absolutely flabbergasted. “I’ll have you flogged to ribbons for this. Apologise now!”
“No.” She now was walking up to Jill. “You can get on your knees.” She was now stood in Jill’s face.
“I beg your pardon!”
“The thing is, Jill,” she said sarcastically, “I have in my possession a number of photographs of you in a compromising position with a man who is not your husband.”
Jill gasped. She had had a brief affair with a man who worked for the state. He had had a camera, something that only the state used, and had persuaded Jill to let him photograph their activities. Jill soon realised the photographs’ potential damage and had begged him to destroy them. She thought he had. She could only gape at the slave.
“Now Jill,” the slave continued, “the new rule round here is that if you don’t obey my every word, I will hand these pictures to your husband, or even the police.” In Illakia adultery was a serious crime punishable by slavery at the worst. “Kneel, bitch.”
To her horror, Jill found herself collapsing to her knees. It was the only thing she could do.
A shiver of thrill went through the slave’s body at the sudden reversal of roles. Her mistress, her figure of hate that terrorised her daily and made her life miserable was now kneeling in subjugation before her. The mistress had just become the slave.
“Who is your mistress?” the slave, or Ruby as we can now call her, snarled triumphantly. Jill was momentarily lost. Ruby slapped her hard, knocking Jill to the floor.
“You are, Mistress,” Jill sobbed. Power had been transferred, humiliation was complete. Jill was now the plaything of the scum she had maltreated and looked down on. Ruby smiled broadly.
“Well, your mistress would like some clothes. Yours.” Jill looked up pleadingly. Oh what a thrill to see that women beg, thought Ruby.
A few hours later, and Ruby relaxed in her mistress’s clothes as Jill worked hard scrubbing the kitchen floor in the slave’s briefs which were painfully too small for her. Ruby laughed.
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