Hot Flash! Yes, Daddy...

The first Sara was aware of was the pain. Nothing sharp and unendurable, but a low ache that accompanied every motion as her eyes blinked open and she stirred in the mass of satin sheets. Her hand lifted slowly to her forehead, pressing against her temple as she combed her memories for something to inform her current situation. She squinted against the light, though it was soft, a yellow-ish light that came from a lamp on a table near the bed. 

She remembered the club, and being there with Carol, who had been grousing about her new job and the way the upper management of the office had been eying her like a piece of meat. Not surprising, Sara thought, considering Carol was possessed of a remarkable figure that she worked to maintain. Despite a larger chest, she had a flat and toned stomach and slender legs. When she wore just the right dress, she resembled a model more than an administrative assistant. With her straight brown hair styled to look professional, she was certainly capable, but her looks often got in her way.

Sara had been half-listening, staring at someone across the bar. She remembered seeing him (Daddy) staring at the pair of them as they perched on the tall stools of the bar table. He was handsome, a few years older than either Carol or Sara who had yet to count thirty candles on their cakes, but the way he stared at them, fixing them in place, made Sara uncomfortable. When she looked back at him, she felt as if the sounds of the bar dimmed and she was trapped in his stare until she could focus on Carol’s complaining tirade to bring her back to reality.

The rest wouldn’t come. There was nothing after that, and even the fragments of the time just before were in disarray. She eased herself up in the bed, sliding easily along the similarly satin sheets beneath her. When she looked down at herself, she was firsts truck by the weight of hair spilling around her head. Her hair was normally fairly short, neck-length, usually kept in a cute bob, and now her dark hair had turned a very pale blonde, with curls at the ends. She lifted the ends of her hair to stare at it, her lids blinking heavily. It hurt so much to try to think of how wrong this was. She abandoned her curiosity to evaluate the rest of herself. Her waist was pinched in a white lace corset, the cups of which lifted her less-impressive bust, giving her more volume than she would have boasted without it. The bottom of the corset threaded between her legs, and garter straps hung from the end, securing in place the white silk stockings that covered her legs. She looked, she thought, like how one of the mannequins in lingerie store window displays looked. 

She had to move. That much, she knew. Beneath the fog that swamped her thoughts, she could find her sense of fear rising. She did not know where she was, nor what had been done to her. She had to get out, call the police. And what about Carol (Carrie)? 

She shook her head. These random thoughts were like flares shooting across her brain, derailing her train of thought. She slipped from the bed, and now she could feel her long hair tumbling down her back. When she stood, she wobbled and collapsed back onto the bed again, wincing. She crossed her leg, placing one foot on her knee and she gasped. Her foot was curved into a pose suitable for high heels, but any effort to flatten her feet made her hiss in pain. She scanned the floor by the bed and saw a pair of white patent heels and she slipped her feet into them, the curve of her feet fitting more naturally into the lifted heel. 

Proper young lady.

Yes, she felt better with the heels on. Proper. 

Sara moved more easily now, and some of the worry she felt was melting away, though she was following the wall of the room, searching for some sort of door. The only one she could see was open, and led to a small bathroom with a sink and toilet and shower, the counter around the sink littered with brushes and tubes of lipstick and jars of cream. She thought to ignore it, but something drew her inside.

Pretty for Daddy.

Yes, she wanted to be pretty. Sara stood before the mirror, slack-faced, as her hands moved mechanically to apply the foundation to give her face an almost-porcelain appearance, then the blush that would give her cheeks their rosy look. Then, the red lipstick that would make her lips shimmer with crimson light. She teased out her lashes and lined her lids carefully until she had created the perfect mask of doll-like innocence.

So pretty for Daddy.

She felt pretty, and soft. Seeing her face, her light blonde curls, the way her face seemed to rest in a happy, dazed expression – it all made her feel so safe and warm, like she was in the arms of a lover (Daddy). 

She turned when the door clicked open, part of her commanding her legs to run, to push past her captor and flee to some sort of safety, out of the madness of this room and-

Daddy entered, Carrie in tow. Around her neck she wore a pink leather collar, buckled at the front with a clasp attached. Sara followed the leash affixed to the collar to Daddy’s powerful hand, and she reached up to her throat, realizing a collar of her own rested there, and she had never even noticed it. 

“Good morning, Sara. Don’t you want to give your sister a kiss?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said brightly. Automatically. The words were out before she could scarcely conceive them.

She rushed to Carrie, who looked remarkably like her, dressed in the same elegant and intricate lingerie, the same powdered face, the same light curls. Yes, they looked like sister. Were sisters, if Sara’s impulsive thoughts could be trusted. Carrie was opening wide her arms and Sara fell into them. She smelled the faint aroma of makeup and perfume on Carrie, and when their lips met, their tongues eagerly found one another’s and danced together. Sara felt her pussy respond instantly. Yes, this was right.

“How does my Sara feel?” Daddy asked, stroking her hair as the kiss between the faux sisters ended with a wet smack.

“Better Daddy. I woke up so confused!”

Sara’s voice felt high, almost comically feminine, and yet she knew this was her. She was Daddy’s special girl.

“It’s been some time since we did some training. Sit, Sara.”

Sara fell to the floor, kneeling there. 

“Sara sleep,” Daddy said, and everything went blank, the way it did when Daddy was giving her special orders. She loved this time, when her mind grew still and she knew she would wake up in her sister’s arms, and they would please Daddy until night came and they were sent to their rooms for bed. 

His words echoed in her thoughts until they were her thoughts, and Sara was once more Daddy’s special girl.