Lara Swift is Colonized, Robin Ending B

It was autumn, but Lara wasn't much for seasons. She didn't go outside often, her mistress having so many things to keep her busy indoors. Generally on her hands and knees. It was well enough: her agoraphobia had become a lot to contend with. Usually, Robin opted to have Lara wear a blindfold whenever she needed to ride in a car – say when traveling between the salon and Robin's apartment or one of her estates.
	They learned the sensory deprivation was necessary on Lara's first day out from the Institution, when she found herself incapable of setting foot outside. She needed not only a blindfold, but also restraints for her wrists and thighs. Nor was all of this to prevent an escape attempt, but because facing wide open spaces was that unthinkable for the girl now. Robin also put a vogmask on Lara, on the pretense of protecting the girl's sensitive lungs but it just felt like another demonstration of control. The mask kept in place the cotton that Robin would stuff in Lara's mouth. 	Sometimes when Robin was in a bad mood, she would specifically use cotton that had been between women's toe separators and put that in Lara's mouth, giggling at the girl's weak protests and the look of dismay on her gorgeous face.
	The massage went on in silence. Robin was sitting in the chair, carefree, playing with her cell phone while Lara was hunched over with all of her attention focused on the girl's shapely feet. Lara couldn't zone out, or look away, or lessen up on the pressure. Something like that might annoy Robin, and the girl could be very cruel when she got annoyed. That cotton ball punishment was actually pretty light on the spectrum.
	 Another customer walked in, cutting short the massage. Although she liked to monopolize Lara's time, Robin disliked turning away customers. She sent Lara to fetch her pedicure supplies and take care of the girl.
	She only wanted a foot massage, though, so there was no rest for Lara's poor hands as she started right in on the girl's feet, straight out of her leather boots! She wasn't wearing socks, either – it was perhaps the most objectionable thing Lara could think of. The woman was named Leena, she worked at a nearby apothecary and had an account providing Robin with massage oils. She was very pretty, with an almond complexion, dark hair and dark eyes. Her feet were quite different from Robin's – Leena had tiny size 5 feet with shorter toes. There were little flecks of black covering her otherwise smooth, light soles.
	It collected onto Lara's hands throughout the massage, making her stomach turn. At least as much as it could turn within the punishing confines of the corset that Robin made part of her work uniform. And Leena was so casual being around all of this! Completely fine that a poor girl was slaving away over her sweaty feet while she carried on a conversation with Robin about their supply chain. Apparently the price of lavender had gone up, so their usual massage oil was about to become considerably more expensive.
	"Who cares?" Robin said, "I'll keep buying it. I very much enjoy the way it smells."
	Leena smiled and looked very relieved to be keeping the woman's business. Robin continued talking.
	"It's a different experience I am trying to create here. Everything has to be the best. Look at my technicians! Lara here gives the best massage in all of London. Aren't you loving her right now?"
	"I kind of am, actually! Leena said, casting an appreciative smile down at Lara.
	"My feet are really sensitive so it's hard for me to enjoy a massage. She's doing a really good job."
	"Thank you," Lara replied, bowing her head. Then she looked up to make eye contact while continuing the massage.
	Her eyes still had those golden flecks floating around in a scintillating way. They were nigh-on entrancing. Sometimes, Lara and would get lost in the gaze of the woman whose feet she was massaging for a very long time but Leena didn't want that today. Instead, Robin and Leena talked about other things: potential changes to the salon, things in their personal lives. As usual, Robin found a way to humble brag about everything and Leena acted really interested in everything the girl had to say.
	Robin adored the attention. She sat back in her high-backed pedicure chair designed to look everything like a throne, and watched Lara caress and pamper Leena's feet with a bemused grin on her face. It wasn't unusual for Lara to service ten or more women in a single day and sometimes many more than that, if all they wanted was massages.
	They were almost always wealthy. Many were landladies, or successful entrepreneurs, sometimes wives or daughters of someone rich. Lara suspected that Leena was a trophy wife, or else some kind of heiress. She had to get back to the shop though, so Lara helped her on with her shoes and she left without paying – Robin's treat. Then Robin held out Lara's e-cigarette, for her to take a hit.
	 Far from being polite or flirty, this was part of another restriction Lara's old nemesis put on her: while working in the salon, she couldn't operate her own e-cigarette due to vague health reasons. It was preposterous: clients could vape as they pleased within the salon! Robin encouraged it.
	In fact, she strategically placed Lara's own vape on the manicure table of each client Lara serviced, with the implication that it was for the client's use. It still contained the addictive, proprietary juice that the Institution made and it was certainly helping to create repeat customers. The vape was especially popular among Lara's younger customers, who found it highly addictive while completely denying the severity of it. Part of this was because the experience was so entangled with Lara's excellent massage skills.
	Consuming good drugs while having their feet worshiped was a thrill for many. It made them feel powerful, and a few of the bolder ones even commented on it to be met with knowing laughter. For some, it really interested them that the girl doing their feet was once an aristocrat, now reduced to this. It was definitely an experience women enjoyed, and told their friends about to share it.
	To distract herself, Lara focused on different things. One was striking to watch different women discover the vape in particular. Lara was forbidden to comment negatively on it, even as it played out in front of her. Seeing their use ramp up and up until they were buying a vape of their own and an ounce bottle of fluid from Robin. Although it didn't have the same super-addictive properties for Lara's clients as it did her, they definitely caught on to it quick.
	She was the only one who sold the Institution's e-cigarette juice.The enterprising girl had asked them to change the flavor a little bit of course; even if Lara still switched back to the disgusting flavor of Lord Errol's cigars when she got off work. But if paying customers were going to be using Lara's vape, it needed to be as sophisticated as the essential oils the girls used for their massages. Robin opted for a floral scent with subtle notes of tea tree oil. Lara came to associate it with her mistress, and there were reminders of it in every room of Robin's vast estate.
	Very few of the clients would even think to offer to share the vape with Lara, so she would resort to asking them for it. Women would give her puzzled expressions when Lara asked them for a hit. They invariably found it strange but then highly personal and empowering. "There's something so beautiful about it," a woman said one day.
	Lara's home life was even more demanding.
	Robin had her own characteristic way of manipulating Lara's behavior. It was much more unpredictable than things were at the Institution. Sometimes Robin would be sweet to Lara, smiling and kissing her on the nose after a lengthy session of oral sex. Or complaining about days where she did nothing as Lara massaged her back and shoulders at the end of her own 14 hour work day. Then, without warning, Robin would snap at Lara over something minor.
	"Jeanette gave you a four star rating today, Lara. Could you tell me a bit about that?"
	Anxiety and dread came riding into her mind. Every useful thought fled as it dawned on her how trapped she was, here in Robin's drawing room, at the wealthy girl's mercy. Disappointing Robin was worse than anything for Lara right now, for reasons beyond the spanking or prolonged orgasm denial it would undoubtedly bring.
	True to what Dr. Wu had said, getting criticized for misbehavior triggered the worst feelings in Lara. The lowest despair she felt in that awful place was here with her again, inescapable. And over something as simple as a four out of five star review! This sort of anxiety attack could have been brought on just as easily if Lara had forgotten to clean beneath the toe straps of one of Robin's many pairs of sandals.
	"I-I-I'm not sure, Lady," Lara murmured. She was kneeling to the side of Robin's sofa, with her cheek resting on its cushion near Robin's bare feet.
	Lara raised her head.
	"Actually, she made a comment about my immigration status," Lara admitted.
	Robin smirked.
	"I don't see what is so hard for people to understand! Kelley and Rachel caught on immediately. And I think most of our friends have come around to it, don't you?" Robin asked.
	"Yes, Robin," Lara answered.
	The sadistic girl seemed unsatisfied. She kept digging.
	"What did you tell her?"
	"She said I was a traitor to my country for surrendering my British citizenship and my title. Especially to a Chinese woman, which is seen as a triumph across their country and a permanent blow to ours. Well, she did not say that part but she clearly meant it. She is threatened by the influx of money from China, I think."
	Lara was trying to change the subject to something Robin enjoyed talking about. If the blonde girl just started talking about markets, she would--
	"Should we reach out to her, and see what it takes for us to get five stars?"
	"...Yes, Lady."
	"If you can convince her to change her rating, I will not punish you."
	This was a mercy. At least in Robin De Eresby's terms.
	Lara was punished when she failed to meet Robin's goals. Or just when Robin was in a bad mood. Or whenever she made a mistake, or a pedicure service took too long. Lara was even punished for things that weren't her fault. It was a constant indignity, facing Robin De Eresby as a cowed servant girl bending for the strap or sometimes, her bare hand. A hand Lara had manicured, massaged, and waited upon earlier that same day!
	It was immediately obvious that Robin got a sexual thrill out of abusing Lara.
	Often, Lara's torments became a sort of foreplay for the blonde girl, forever strengthening the link in both of their minds between pain and sex. Robin delighted in assaulting Lara's backside until the girl was begging for mercy; then as terms of surrender, Lara would kneel down and worship at her shrine.
	In lovemaking, Robin was uniquely cruel.
	 "My feet are getting a little cold," Robin said in her pampered brat tone.
	"Could you warm them for me?"
	Lara smiled, and nodded, and took Robin's bare feet between both hands, gripping as much of them as she could. Then she put her beautiful face nearer to Robin's feet and began blowing hot air on them, focusing on her toes to begin with. She wriggled them appreciatively. Each slender toe moving with as much grace as beauty in a gentle wave. Part of being Robin's foot warmer was complete focus on her dainty feet. Lara's mind would drift as she performed this demeaning job, but perhaps due to her proximity to Robin's feet, all her thinking went back to her time at the salon.
	It was better than thinking of the Institution, at least.
	The tattoo on her ring finger was one of many perpetual reminders of her time there. An locus for all of her hypersensitivity. As her own warm breath blew across its surface, it sent pleasant shivers down her spine. The pink fog didn't matter in this moment: she could see Robin's entire body quite clearly and certainly her feet. Soon Lara's entire left hand was buzzing in a nice way, and the sensation traveled throughout the rest of her body. Her thoughts became dirty, despite her mind's protests.
	Because Robin and the Institution controlled Lara's pleasure as much as they did the girl's pain. The tattoo on Lara's back made a perfect footrest for Robin – during oral sex or just whenever Robin wanted to sit with her knees bent. It drove Lara mad, feeling Robin's toes caress the too-sensitive ink on her back while she performed the most intimate servitude for her former friend. It would make her channel all her frustration into licking Robin's clit better, bringing the heiress to orgasms as quickly or as slowly as she wanted. If she slowed down, Robin might grab her hair as a non-verbal queue to try harder.
	If it didn't suffice, Robin's favorite riding crop was nearby. That would come into play if she wanted longer sessions. Even for all her training and practice, Lara's mouth burned with exhaustion after 30 minutes of lapping at Robin's mewling pussy and swallowing all of her girlcum.
	"Lick me. Rabynya," Robin whispered, placing special emphasis on the word "rabynya."
	Lara planted a long kiss on each of Robin's feet, then began moving her way up her ankles, her calves, her bare thighs. "Rabynya" meant slave in Russian, so the Tomb Liberator's legal name could be said as Slave Lara. It was exactly her fate: she continued this obsequious behavior day in and day out because Robin was the absolute dictator of her mental health. If Lara showed too much signs of resistance, why, the Institution would gladly re-admit her for a refresher treatment!
	Robin was already wet. Apart from the bland food, Robin's pussy was pretty much the only thing Lara tasted anymore. That and the food Robin would sometimes allow Lara to eat from her plate. Lara snaked her tongue across Robin's clit, followed by a deep kiss.
	Robin moaned. She liked to be loud during sex.
	"You're just a little pain slut now, aren't you?" Robin asked.
	Lara moaned 'yes,' while getting increasingly swept up with eating the wealthy girl's pussy. She was Robin's pain slut, her pleasure slut, her employee. Sometimes it felt like lover too. At least as much of a lover that a girl like Robin could ever have, for all her malice.
	"I cannot believe my life!" Robin exclaimed.
	She had a blissful smile on her face. Lara suspected that she would be here a while. She slowed down reflexively – if she didn't pace herself, this could be much worse for her. Robin was unbelievably picky about how Lara serviced her sexually.
	"I have the former Lady of Abington and my personal rival Lara Swift, working for me now. Massaging my feet... Licking me whenever I want. Forever... It's like a dream come true!"
	Then she giggled, and mussed Lara's hair affectionately.
	"You used to think you were so much better than me, didn't you?" Robin gloated.
	Now the verbal abuse was starting. Lara's own pussy reacted to Robin's dominant attitude pretty much reflexively. At least it wouldn't be long until Robin came, if she was so excited as to abuse Lara this way.
	"I remember when I tried to rest my feet in your lap, and you were so offended! That look you gave me. Mmm!"
	The blonde girl lost her train of thought, letting out a sharp gasp as Lara flicked her clit using her stiff tongue. This was Lara's effective form of protest: making Robin lose her mind with pleasure, distracting her. She had spent all that time in the Institution learning the art of performing oral sex on women. To this day Lara retained that annoying addiction to masturbation, and now she knew exactly why To channel it into this.
	Robin laughed.
	"And I pay you nothing! You make me SOO much money! I love it! Even if I didn't have my money, I could just live off of you."
	She started to run with the idea.
	"We could do that! Let's leave London. We can move to a college town somewhere, and I'll open a salon there. Ooh! And we can rent a house, and sublet the rooms to... students in need."
	Robin's hand was tangled in Lara's hair now, with a grip verging on painful. The college house was an idea she had explored before: cheap rent and on-demand laundry service, cooking, cleaning all provided by a submissive little slave girl. Lara in an apron and gloves, sorting through womens' laundry and serving their every need.
	 And all Lara could do was to lick Robin's cunt, which demanded all of her focus anyway. She was mindful and present, noticing every subtle taste and sensation rather than trying to block them out or speed it up. Miss Galkowska drilled it into her: to always be present during lovemaking. A sort of emotional labor they foisted upon her to get more enjoyment from her servitude.
	Robin let out a long sigh and nearing her first climax.
	This was Lara's life now. She was no longer Lara "Swift" Abington – that life seemed like an impossible dream. She had signed it all away, and agreed to a lifetime of stringent micromanagement and sexual servitude to the girl she hated most. All her property was gone, and she wasn't even a legal citizen anymore. This put that much more power in Robin's hands. A casual remark about shipping Lara off to China was usually enough to get her to surrender to some particularly bad indignity. Or to spur her into harder work at the end of a twelve hour day.
	Robin couldn't get enough of humiliating Lara, and of tightening her grip around the waifish girl's body and soul. Most of Lara's old friends were gone or kept away deliberately for fear of 'worsening her mental state.'
	Sometimes it seemed like an addiction; that Robin truly got high on all of this. Like she would never be satisfied from her need to punish and control Lara in the most intimate ways imaginable. She had nearly infinite resources to use in her dark pursuit, and had made inroads that Lara couldn't believe.
	Lara understood the depth of her submission at this moment as she felt Robin's girlcum flood into her mouth. With her entire soul, Lara wished that Robin would come to love her genuinely. And out of that love, to treat her better. She did not wish for revenge, or for her money and title back. She wished for love, and from perhaps the world's cruelest woman. A woman that no one but Lara could tolerate long enough to love. She hoped that her servitude would convince Robin to love her.
	This struggle gave Lara Rabyna's life meaning and filled her with resolve, even though she knew how absurd and tragic it all was. Was it the Institution that forced her to think in such a way? Would she ever achieve the end to her struggle? Would Robin?
	Does anyone?