Karla’s Descent to Hell - The beginning - 1 of 3

I am 18 years old. I have my first job, I drive my car and I read a lot. I liked watching girls, lesbian girls. Things have changed a lot since then. I loved to see very feminine lesbian girls like me, still in the closet or sometimes a little more open. I’m a lesbian fem, white, with a proportionate body, my breasts delicately full, amber brown eyes, dark hair and a bright smile. I liked to dress up in jeans showing my attractive legs: a shy teenager looking for other girls.

When I walked the streets, men often turned to see me and undress me with their eyes, but I don't care about them, I never respond to their calls or suggestions. Straight women just hated me as a potential contender, a temptation to their boyfriends or they were envious of how I looked sometimes. I didn’t care. I was only interested in girls or mature women, married or not. I looked at their eyes and their body language, how they reacted to my presence. Some were embarrassed when they realized I knew what they were thinking (too shy like me), others did not like to be discovered but sometimes both could not hide their attraction to me. Others were smiling and waiting for my next move and there were some who came directly to speak to me.

I loved to insinuate myself in clothing stores, lingerie departments, exclusive women shoe stores and boutiques. There I found lesbian or bisexual girls. The shoe stores were particularly good. I tried on various pairs of shoes, specially the ones that made my feet look desirable. Straight girls hated me because they worked a lot with me and I didn't buy. But there were girls who helped me to try on the shoes just to see how I looked. That was one of my favorite places. I showed my legs with confidence and without danger: they could not avoid that their eyes would look at them. It was time to cross my legs several times so that they could see for a moment my shaved pussy barely covered by a small thong. They’d start to feel nervous. The worst was when I asked them to adjust my shoes to my feet. All of my detected lesbian saleswomen did it, but in different ways. Some did it with shaking hands as one of their fingers touched the skin of my feet, then I moved my leg to offer them my other foot and suggested my hidden treasure. Some got nervous and needed more effort, others smiled with their eyes and praised me (future telephone number exchanges if I overcame my shyness) and finally the discreet ones but with open signals for a sexual encounter. The latter stroked my feet and showed their clear desire to tickle my soles: they and I knew it, but no one else noticed. I was already a safe prey if they wanted to be predators of my body.

The clothing stores were uneven: too many people or different saleswomen, not so good, but it was still possible to do some flirting there. The best were the exclusive women's boutiques especially those with lingerie. I joked with the girls and went in and out of the changing rooms each time to ask the opinion of the saleswoman, so that they would see me in a skirt, tops, bras and, of course, sexy and revealing clothes when I was driven by desire and not fear. Once I found my lesbian girls I began to visit the boutique frequently, more and more promising, but in the end any date or exchange of numbers was frustrated by my fear: they made me crazy, crazy with desire for them. I just loved it. My favorite was an elegant boutique on Madrid's exclusive Preciado street. I was always attended by two beauties. The two salegirls, a red haired and a brunette, were female lesbians who probably hid the fact that they were lovers. They devoured me every time I entered with her eyes, undressing me with open gazes. At just 18 years old, Ginger was beautiful, slim, petite, red-haired, with blue eyes, and short hair. I really enjoyed watching them, going back and forth to the changing rooms where I would force myself into a slow private striptease for them. They couldn't touch me and they were very desperate to do so, but at the last moment they always took a step back. For Ginger and the other young woman it was like a long orgasm denied by me each time without realizing it.

One day I went to the boutique to see them again but this time the second girl, a beautiful Mexican 28 years old, welcomed me. "Hi, I'm Gabriela ... I'm the owner. Welcome." She had an impressive body worthy of showing off on a beach, a 1.65 meter mestiza latina beauty and very elegant: class and personality I had never seen before.

I did my clothing request routine and they were both all smiles. When I was almost finished, wearing designer pants and a "daring" top to cover my breasts, Gabriela approached me: "You are one of our best customers, Karla, would you like to see our exclusive collection? It is not for sale yet, but we can make an exception for you. " I said yes.

"Then come to our special showroom" and she led me to the back of the boutique. I didn't know the room, so Gabriela let me in first, followed by her and Ginger. It was spacious, with three mirrored walls and the ceiling as well. The fourth wall was a large closet with wooden doors, closed. Near it was a rack with clothes. Ginger, the little English redhead, started showing me the most beautiful and daring clothes I have ever seen.

I was distracted and in a second, Ginger and Gabriela grabbed me. Gabriela took my arms and my hands, Ginger by the neck. "What the fuck? What are you doing?" I screamed.

"Don't pretend you're not doing what you're doing to us," Gabriela said. "You know perfectly well Karla. You've been watching us since the first time you came in. Now is the time for you to know us close up, you fucking bitch."

I screamed at the top of my lungs: "Help, help, someone help me!" As I fought with all my might, kicking, screaming, trying to get away and be free. I am attractive but slim, and Ginger and Gabriela's strength and height gained in seconds. I started crying and begging,

"Please let me go, if you want my money to take it away, but let me go."

Gabriela became cold, severe with a voice of steel: "No way, Karla, you must enjoy our collection and special services. Now shut up bitch! " She took my mouth with her hand pressing hard, distorting my lips and making them ugly to the extreme.

"Now we will transform you into our new bitch. You are not the first baby trained here. We have very private clients. Maybe in the end you will become one of them", Gabriela said.

"Oh, she doesn't agree with our proposal", said Ginger.

"She will", answered Gabriela."It's only a matter of time".

" You must learn, Karla, that we take what we want and we desire you, asshole ", Gabriela said.

I tried to free myself but once again I failed.

Ginger opened the wooden closet and suddenly all the BDSM paraphernalia appeared inside: handcuffs; black, white, red clothes; gagballs, strapons of all sizes, even thin and thick ropes, but, curiously, they had no whips or instruments of torture.

"Oh, you noticed, Karla," said Gabriela. "The worst pain is the fear of pain. In the long run, the best bondage is psychological: humiliation, degradation. Pain alone is for amateur dominants. Humiliating slaves is more perverse and we're going to sexually distort you, Karla. You won't recognize yourself".

Ginger moved quickly and produced a king-size mattress that looked comfortable enough to lay on the floor. They threw me over there and tied me up like jungry panthers. I was a perfect X of meat, spread out on the mattress. My wrists were tied tightly with thin ropes, a bit uncomfortable, but I felt like the ropes would really hurt if I struggled to free myself. My ankles were also tied with thin ropes, they would only cut my skin if I resisted hard. If there was to be any pain involved, it would be self-inflicted by my stupid resistance.

When I was a perfect X on the mattress, Gabriela pulled a professional Rambo-type hunting knife from the closet. "I won't cut you, Karla, but if you don't obey me and fight, my pulse may tremble", Gabriela said. "Your first task as our lesbian sex slave is to NEVER stop looking at this knife until I tell you". Then she slowly started cutting my clothes: first my bra, then she cut up my expensive designer jeans. And then she saw my thong ... "You stupid bitch, did you think we wouldn't notice your provocative teasing without consequences? What an asshole!", said Gabriela.

To be continued

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