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“You’re just the sweetest little angel! Thank you so much!” “You’re welcome! I hope you have a great rest of your day!” I beamed and waved like I always do, awkward, overly nice movements. I’m jittery. Always. People noticed. Brenda took a step towards me, “Are you okay, little angel?” she asked, a cool hand coming down to rest on my heated skin. Running up and down the ladder, all over the store, and back again really had me sweating. But... everything to please someone else. Like always. I stuttered a bit, taken aback. Yeah, people noticed that I’m jittery and fidgety, but do they ask? Do they care? “I-I... I’m okay. Just a little sleepy, maybe.” I tried to play it off. I tell people I’m tired all the time. It doesn’t mean it’s true, it means I’m depressed and downing edibles like a glutton. “You look a little flushed, angel,” Brenda stepped even closer into my space, her hand still resting on my forehead, “have you been taking care of yourself, sweetness?” I realize I am a little flushed, and not just from all the activity I put into helping this particular customer. The attention of an attractive, older, around 50, woman making my brain go to its happy place. My cheeks suddenly felt super-heated, and I tried to fight a dopey smile by forcing my polite customer service one on. “I’m, yes, I mean...” I was truly at a loss. I never tell people how I am truly feeling, and when I do I play it off, so I don’t feel like a burden. But to tell someone I’ve been taking care of myself? When that’s such a fucking lie? “That’s a no then,” Brenda says, an air of finality stretching around her words. She took me by the hand and led me over to the couch she was lounging and relaxing on as I ran about to try and fix everything for her to get an on-sale lamp that would hang in her marital bedroom. “Come, across my lap. Stick that ass up, little angel. If you had been taking better care of yourself, you would have been able to find one of the two lamps it said your store has.” I was fidgety, but compliant. I wanted this. I had been waiting for what seems like, and actually is, 11 years to get dominated. Humiliated. Hurt. Utterly fucking destroyed and left in a puddle of filth. “No- ma’am...” I tried to keep up the professional attitude, but cracks were forming fast as Brenda’s hand caressed my ass and pulled at my skirt. “It’s mommy to you angel-thing,” Brenda said harshly, then, “Someone get me a fake fern. Let’s discipline this slut. It needs it. Especially from a mommy.” “No... mommy,” I started again, at least to try and defend myself a little bit, “I take care of myself! Today I went to community college and took the first steps to apply!” I was really proud of myself for now knowing my next steps, too. “Oh! Angel, I’m so proud of you! But still- you're neglecting your health and life in other areas and mommy cannot let that slide.” She pulled my hair in a tight fist, yanking my head back at a cruel angle when she finally got my skirt pulled all the way over my ass. “Look at these slutty, filthy fishnets. You wear these because they scream whore, huh? Is this your signal to everyone that they can do whatever they want with you? I mean look, all these customers, your coworkers, your boss-” Brenda took a deep breath. She exhaled. She ripped my fishnets and my undershorts in half to reveal the soaked little pink panties I was wearing underneath. “Looking right at you and your pretty pink and wet panties.” I whined, high, desperate, and strung out—the fatigue of my current depressive episode and feeling like a failure now mixing with the quick on-come of subspace making me willing to do anything to get even any amount of a beating out of this. I needed it. I needed mommy. “Pink panties? Are you just a mushy little baby under all those black clothes, the piercings, and the dark makeup?” Brenda mused as she waited for the fern. She went in again, ripping my panties in half the same direction as my tights and shorts. My pussy, already dripping whorishly, and my asshole, puckered and tight, now fully exposed to everyone in the store where I work. I gasped, breathless, “Yes, mommy... I’m- I’m a-” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. The embarrassment flaming my face, already superheated from the blood rushing to it, making my cheeks all the more pink. I had called myself a many number of things and been called an even bigger number, but this seemed—couldn't she just call me a fuck-doll piss-slave supreme 9000, version 3? Like why did she—the walls of my pussy clenched, slick really feeling like it oozed down my puffy slit and made its way to the tip of my clit. It dripped slowly off, landing heavy on the dusty floor. I shivered. A thwack sound brought me hurtling out of my intense focus on my cunt, and I threw a quick glance behind me, as best I could. Someone had brought Brenda the fake fern. She was holding the end with the foliage in her fist, aiming for my ass with the stem. The metal stem, with only one layer of green tissue paper wrapped around it. “Look at you fucking drip. You really are the sweetest little angel-slut, aren’t you? You will count and thank mommy after every hit,” Brenda chuckled, “You’re so desperate for this. It’s incredible.” I pushed my ass up, excited to meet the blow and uncaring for looking as desperate as she knew I was. I was happy I got a direction easy enough to be followed. A tangible goal to meet. Count and thank mommy. I heard the onlookers cheer and then all my breath left me in one swift punch. It felt so fucking good. All I could feel was the pain. All I could focus on was the searing heat and the inevitable welt left behind in its wake. I blinked hard, trying to stifle the ringing in my ears. Then, everything rushed back in like I had been falling forever and had finally hit the concrete under me. “One. Thank you, mommy,” I choked out, never one to disappoint, even lost to a pleasure I had never known. My feet skidded apart, the smooth floor squeaking under my Vans, since there was nothing to catch my legs from spreading: my skirt slid up and my fishnets and shorts in tatters. The changing of my stance showed more of my swollen pussy to everyone gathered around the spectacle of me getting caned in public. “Good job, angel,” Brenda said over the gasps of the viewers who were treated to the sight of my cunt. The second hit landed across my pussy lips, and I screamed out a breath. I was quick to control myself and obey my commands, but the burn lasted far longer than the burn on my ass. I loved it. It kept up like this until I counted and thanked mommy for hit number 25 through sobs and hiccups and shakes. Mommy dropped the fake fern. I hoped my boss would let me keep it since it was already covered in my juices. My cunt was on fire. I was sure it was a deep, welted purple and that it was going to hurt so fucking bad on the bike ride home, but shit. I did not give a single fuck. I was blissed out. No thoughts, just a head full of clouds wanting to do anything to please. Or to cum. Or to get someone to cum on me. Mommy directed me to kneel in front of her. This time, I couldn’t help the dopey smile. Maybe one day a Dom will train that out of me, but until then, everyone will get to know how happy being good makes me. Being obedient makes me. “What a good little thing,” Mommy plays her fingers across my lips, and I open up, trying to get them inside my mouth. I’ll take anything at this point. I have never been this turned on in my life (maybe besides the first time I tried you know what) even when I was taking testosterone. “Wow angel, you really are something. Something of a filthy fucking whore. Look at you! Taking the service part of customer service too seriously!” Mommy’s words were mean, but her tone of voice was so sweet and nice. I watched as she unbuttoned her tan capris and I salivated but didn’t move to start licking at her. I was waiting. Like a good thing. She chuckled down at me and then pulled her Victoria’s Secret rose gold bikini panties down as well. Her cunt was hairy like mine, and I smiled again. I was always self-conscious about not shaving before hookups, but it was just too itchy and too much work to shave for what was always bad sex. And now, the good sex I’m having not only includes my hairy pussy, but hers as well. “Ask for it, angel,” mommy said as she beckoned me closer and retook the claw like hold of my hair. My buns were completely destroyed. I could only imagine what my makeup looked like. I could feel the streaks of tears and eyeliner painting the mess of my face. In the back of my head, I could tell it itched, but I had so many more important things to be doing then. Like asking nicely to eat mommy’s pussy. “Mommy may I please eat your pussy, mommy please,” I started to plead instantly. I’m not ashamed nor am I above it. “Please let me lick you. Please let me make you cum.” “Oh! Listen to you,” mommy positioned her pussy a tantalizing centimeter above my lips, “Little thing, I hope you can use that mouth to my liking or I’m going to take this fern to your clit- directly.” I moaned, brokenly, half hoping she does it anyway, because I know I’m going to give it my all, and my all in pussy eating, well, it’s pretty good. “Goon, slut,” mommy said, and I dove in. I was quick to lick a thick stripe from her hole to her clit, earning a shaky breath from mommy that I relished in. I then trailed back down to her hole, making it as sloppy and wet as mine was. I nip at her lips and then burry my face back into her hole, my nose brushing against her clit. Mommy was grinding and rocking down hard on my face. My neck was tilted painfully back and there is a crick that is beginning to form, but that’s not what I was focusing on at all. I went for the main course: I flick my tongue quickly over mommy’s clit while I suctioned with my cheeks. That got me the loudest moan yet, and an even tighter grip on my hair. “Take it, slut,” mommy hissed and shoved my face forcefully into her warm, juicy cunt. ‘Lap it like a fucking dog, bitch.” And like with all commands, I obey. I took a broad swipe at her clit and quickly followed it up with many more like it. Drool was sliding down my chin and neck, making the slide of my lower face against her hole all the more smooth. This seemed to be the trick for her, and she circled her hips, meeting my licks while smearing her slick all over my flushed face and greedy open mouth. “Stay where you are and take my fucking cum,” she snarled, and I could feel the jumps her hips were making against my mouth. I knew she was on the edge. I didn’t change anything about what I was doing. I kept the same pressure, speed, and technique. One thing I know: if someone with a cunt is close, do not change it up! They might have to start all over. It was only moments until I felt mommy squirt her orgasm all across my face. It dripped down my chin from my panting lips and collected with the drool on my neck and collarbone. I shivered at the feeling of the slick cooling rapidly on my skin. Mommy pulled back with a rough pat to the side of my head. My face, chin, and neck covered in cooling squirt, my untouched pussy touching the dirty floor, my clothes in tatters, and my jaw locking up: I sat, trembling and dazed, in the middle of my workplace, watching as the woman that just caned me and used me like a sex toy left a yelp review of the store. “Very good customer service. J will go above and beyond to make sure you get exactly what you want. Looked in the back twice and then called around to have another store pt it on hold for me! Oh and—it will let you cane it and use it like a slut toy in the middle of a busy store. What a wonderful employee. I am a very satisfied customer.” Brenda read aloud her review and tears, now of humiliation, real utter humiliation, gathered in my eyes. It also throbbed in my cunt. I hadn’t cum yet and hearing that people would be able to read about what an easy whore I am made me want it even more. I hung my head, trying to hide my face from the customers still watching, but looked back up when I felt a hand in my hair. It was gentle this time. Comforting. “You did such a good job, angel,” Brenda said, smiling down at me. “You’re so good, so pretty, so nice to hurt.” “Thank you, mommy,” I whispered bashfully, because manners are good to have and when people do things for you, you need to thank them. It’s the right thing to do. “Thank you for caning me and using me to squirt. I needed that.” “You’re welcome,” mommy smoothed a hand down my tear and makeup-stained cheek, “Don’t touch yourself until you get home and don’t change a thing about your appearance until then as well. You’re a filthy whore- you already looked like one, so own it.” “Yes, of course mommy,” I answered, elated to receive more orders. A happy heat filled my tummy and I found myself smiling up at Brenda again, “Thank you for disciplining me, mommy.” “You’re welcome, sweet little angel, now behave, or I’ll have to come back and set you right again,” she gave me one last smile, then made her way to the exit, off to pick up the hanging lampshade that would replace the wall sconces in the bedroom she shares with her husband. And I... I was left in a pathetic puddle, in one sense quite literally, on the floor. I was still hazy. I was shaky. I saw people milling around to watch what I would do next. My boss is there, trying to straighten some of my clothes, but mommy had said not to, so I stopped her. Politely. I finally had orders, I sure as hell wasn’t going to disobey them now. I tried to get back to hanging the pins I was putting away when Brenda first asked for my help, but someone stopped me, another customer. I had seen him in the crowd. Immediately I put on a smile, “Hello, how are you? What can I help you with today?” “I was looking for the HP sauce, but I couldn’t find it,” he said. “Oh, I just had a customer yesterday asking for that same thing, but when we found the place it would be, we were all sold out. I’m so sorry, but we usually get new shipments on Tuesdays, or I could look up the inventories at our other stores for you?” I, even after enduring all that, am still trying to do anything for anyone... what can I say? I’m a fucking people pleaser.