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Alexandria binned the diaper, soaked as it was with her squirt, and nervously headed naked to the back yard.
Cameron and Elody had blessedly high fences, but their house was a mansion on a block of mansions, and neighbouring houses on all three sides were high enough to overlook the yard. Alexandria had been so confused and humiliated when she had been out here yesterday washing the windows with her tits that she hadn’t considered whether she might be watched – and anyway, she had had her breasts pressed against the glass – but now she looked up at the neighbouring windows nervously, wondering who might be looking.
The sunlight reflected brightly off the windowpanes. If there was anyone there, Alexandria wouldn’t be able to see them.
There was nothing for it but to hope for the best.
She took the garden hose and turned it on. She didn’t want to wash herself with a hose in the back yard – like an animal – but disobeying Elody never seemed to go well. She just had to do this until Alexandria gave her some clothes, and then she could escape this humiliating nightmare she had found herself in.
She splashed some water from the hose on her body, and squeaked. It was cold! She felt her nipples hardening as goosebumps broke out on her skin. But she had to endure, so she closed her eyes, and turned the hose directly on her body, soaking her face, her shoulders, her tits, her stomach, her arms and her legs. She rubbed at herself with her hand, trying to rub off any hint of sweat, of sex – and, in the case of her tits, of milk.
Then she had to complete the other part of Elody’s instruction. She looked at the hose nozzle. It was unusually thin and tapered for a garden hose, with a rounded end. She realised it would fit very easily into her cunt and, with a bit of work, into her anus. She wondered if the nozzle had been bought specifically for that suitability. Did Elody ever use it on herself that way?
Or… Alexandria remembered Elody’s passing reference to “the last cow”. Had there been other girls here before? Girls who Elody had mistreated in the same ways she mistreated Alexandria?
She put those thoughts aside, turned the hose down to a more modest flow, and then pushed the hose into her cunt. She immediately found herself squealing. It felt so strange, her cunt being forcefully filled with water. After a few seconds she couldn’t bear it anymore, and pulled the hose back out. Water gushed from her cunt. She had to hope that would be clean enough for Elody.
Then it was time for her ass. She turned the hose off completely, then bent over at the waist and slowly worked the nozzle into her anus. Alexandria had rarely had anal sex, and it took some work to convince her sphincter to relax and admit the foreign object. Once the tip was lodged inside her, it felt humiliating and *wrong*. She struggled not to cry.
With one hand, she turned the hose back on, just a little.
Immediately she felt her rectum begin to fill with water. Alexandria had never given herself an enema before, and never felt this sensation. She whimpered, feeling her full rectum pressing against her bladder, and when she could take it no more she pulled the hose out of her ass.
The resulting flush of water was hardly clean, and so with humiliation Alexandria repeated the procedure. Her anus had never been so clean before, she realised.
Once it was done, she re-entered the house. She found a towel waiting for her in the laundry, along with a set of clothes. She gratefully dried herself off, and then examined the clothes on offer.
At first she thought it was the same uniform as yesterday. A maid outfit, crotchless panties, a bra lined with cruel tacks, a bonnet, and locking high heels. But when she put it on – wincing as the tacks bit into her tits, agonisingly painful even though they were in no danger of drawing blood – she discovered this version had a slightly different cut. The hem was a little higher, showing off her butt cheeks and the lowest part of her groin even when she was standing straight. The bodice was a little lower and deeper, showing off more of her titflesh. And there was a thin black collar, with the word TITSY picked out on the front in silver.
How had Elody had a collar with her name on it prepared so fast? There was no point in speculating. She put the collar on, and was surprised by how comfortable its interior – lined with a thin, soft fur – felt against her neck.
Elody had also provided a makeup kit and a brush, with the helpful note, “Make yourself look less ugly, Titsy. I want you to look vaguely fuckable.”
Alexandria blushed, but did as she was told. She made herself up as if she were going on a date with a man she very much wanted to fuck – bright red lipstick, shadowed eyes, rouge. It wasn’t appropriate makeup for a workplace, but she knew that was exactly what Elody wanted from her.
She had thought she had looked like a “porn maid” yesterday, but when she looked at herself now in the mirror on the laundry wall she saw nothing but a big-titted fuckdoll.
A fuck-*cow* she corrected herself. That was what Elody would call her. A disgusting big-uddered fuck-cow. A grotesque whore with oversized mutant fuckbags.
And as she stared at her tits in the mirror, entirely without thinking about it, her hand went to her pussy. With the high skirt hem and the crotchless underwear, she didn’t even have to adjust her clothes to find her wet slit, and sink her finger into it, searching for her clitoris, rubbing it eagerly…
She jumped. What the fuck was she doing? Masturbating in the laundry? Getting off from being dressed up in a humiliating outfit for the amusement of a cruel woman? Was she *insane*?
She hurriedly jerked her hand away from her crotch and re-entered the main part of the house.
She knew she should find Elody now, to report. Or just get started on making breakfast, which was the next task that Elody had set for her.
But if she did that, she’d just get caught in another cycle of demeaning tasks, cruel punishment, and domination.
She had to act now, while she had the chance. She was dressed like a slut, but it was better than being naked.
She ran for the front door of the house, opened it, and escaped out onto the street.
The last time she had been out here, it had been night, and she had been cycling on the demeaning child’s tricycle. Now it was daylight, and she was free to run, so she ran.
It was run that lasted precisely half a block. There were still seven-inch stripper heels buckled to her feet, and Alexandria had very little practice in walking in them, let alone running in them. She tumbled to the grass, bruising her knees.
Her first instinct upon landing was to crawl. She was sure that Elody or Cameron would be chasing her, and she wanted to get away from their house as quickly as she could, by any means she could.
But she told herself she was being silly. She dusted herself off, stood, and continued onwards – walking now, as far as she could safely manage in the ridiculously high heels.
She wasn’t sure where she was going. Not back to her house – it wasn’t hers anymore, since the government had seized it. But surely she must have other friends – friends who would let her stay with them, without requiring her to be their maid, slave and sex-puppet. Friends who wouldn’t be repulsed by her oversized tits.
She set out vaguely in the direction of the local shops. There was a payphone there – although Alexandria hadn’t quite thought through how she would pay for a call.
In the end it didn’t matter, because she didn’t make it anywhere near the shops.
About five blocks from Cameron and Elody’s house, there was a brief whoop of a police siren from behind her, and a moment later a police patrol car with two uniformed officers inside pulled up alongside her.
“Hey there, sugar,” said the cop on the passenger side, leaning out the window. “Where are you off to this morning?”
“The shops,” said Alexandria, truthfully.
“Uh-huh,” said the cop. “Banking some money from a john, are you?”
Alexandria didn’t understand what he meant.
The car pulled to a stop, and both officers got out and approached her.
“I think you’d better face the car and put your hands behind your back, sugar,” said the cop who had been the driver.
“What? Why?” asked Alexandria.
“Don’t play dumb with us, sweetie,” said the first cop. His name badge read “RAMONE”. “We know a streetwalker when we see one.”
“No!” protested Alexandria. “I’m not…”
But the second cop – whose badge read “BOSKIN” – grabbed her by the shoulder, spun her around, and slammed her against the door of the police car.
“I’d encourage you to comply, sweetcheeks,” he said, as he pushed her hard against the cold metal.
“You don’t understand!” protested Alexandria. “I’m a maid.”
“Sure you are,” said Ramone. “A fuck-maid. All dressed up to clean the fuck-mansion.”
Boskin pulled on Alexandria’s hands, and she heard a click as he cuffed them behind her back. Then his hands began to wander up and down her body – squeezing her tits briefly, then patting her stomach and sides, before moving down over her butt, her sides, her groin…
She squeaked as his fingers found her bare pussy, spread her pussy lips, and then slipped into her fuckhole.
“Crotchless panties,” reported Boskin. “Definitely a whore.”
“You probably had a rich john last night, honey,” said Ramone, “but he should have sent you home in a taxi. Rich folks around here don’t like seeing whores on their streets. It brings down the property values.”
“I’m not a whore!” wailed Alexandria.
Boskin fucked his fingers in and out of her pussy, and then pulled them out and showed them to Ramone.
“Jesus, she’s dripping with fuckhoney,” he said.
“Check her ass,” replied Ramone.
Boskin worked his hand under Alexandria’s panties and shoved a finger, lubricated with cunt juices, into Alexandria’s anus. She tried her best to resist, but when she felt it penetrating her sphincter she gave an involuntary slutty moan.
Both the cops laughed.
“She’s a whore, all right,” said Ramone.
Boskin pulled his finger out of her ass, then lifted his hand to her face and pushed it against her lips.
“Clean me off,” he demanded.
Alexandria had no choice but to open her mouth and let his fingers in. She blushed at the mixed taste of her pussy and ass, but obediently sucked her juices off the cop’s fingers until he was clean.
“What’s your name, sugar?” asked Ramone.
Alexandria opened her mouth to say “Alexandria” – and then paused. They hadn’t recognised her – but if they realised they had Alexandria Everton, business tycoon, dressed up as a slutty maid, who knew what they would do? Tell the press? And besides, there were those ongoing investigations of her business, and the threat of criminal charges. Did she want those investigators to know that she’d been arrested for prostitution? Did she want to fight the charges from a jail cell?
So instead she gave them another name – and in her confused, humiliated state, she used the first one that came to her mind.
“Titsy,” she said. And then blushed, realising what she had said.
The cops laughed.
“Titsy, huh?” asked Boskin. “Did your mother give you that name?”
Well, obviously not. No woman would name their daughter that. But she couldn’t admit to giving a false name, so…
“No,” she said. “I had it changed.”
“Why?” asked Boskin.
“Because…” – she struggled to think of a reason, but there was only one that made sense. “Because of my big tits.” Her blush deepened.
“Last name?” asked Boskin.
And now that she had told them she had deliberately had her name changed to Titsy, she was stuck for a last name. She couldn’t say “Everton”. And if she had changed her first name to Titsy, then…
“McMelons,” she said. “Titsy McMelons.”
The cops laughed uproariously.
“That’s priceless,” wheezed Ramone, slapping his knee. “Titsy McMelons. I love it.”
“Hey,” said Alexandria, “shouldn’t you be reading me my rights or something?”
Boskin shoved his fingers back between her legs. They found her clitoris, and he pinched it, hard, making her yelp.
“Whores don’t have rights, sugar,” he said. “Best you learn that, if you’re going to whore in this town.”
“What are you talking about, Boskin?” asked Ramone. “Sure they have rights. They have the right to be raped. They have the right to be treated like fucktoys. They have the right to be slapped. They have the right to swallow when I cum in their whore mouth. Right?”
They both laughed.
“Listen, Titsy,” said Boskin. “Here’s how it works. We take you down to the station. We have a little fun with you, and you show us how you’re sorry to be a whore, and how much respect you have for a man in uniform. Then you get your phone call. Your daddy or your lawyer or your pimp or whatever can come pick you up, and we drop charges, and you make sure you’re not caught in the rich folk district again. Understand?”
Alexandria understood what they were saying. They were going to take her to the police station and… rape her.
But afterwards they would let her go. And not charge her.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “I understand.”
“Good bitch,” laughed Boskin. “Get your sweet ass in the car, and let’s go have some fun with you.”
Alexandria did as she was told – and soon the car was rolling away, with “Titsy McMelons” cuffed in the back, on her way to a police gang-rape.
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