by Ann Summers
The thought of Jacqueline on the bottom of this three-person pile-up, crushed by the weight of Karl’s body which was in turn weighed down by Jenna’s thrusts, caused Jenna’s nipples to harden: one rogue nipple escaped from her dress and stuck out between two red chains. She used the reins to pull Karl’s upper body back, so that his hips were stuck in between hers and Jacqueline’s. With every thrust, Jenna felt her own pussy grow hot and wet, and the drumming in her clit grew more rapid and urgent. The tiny nub of plastic, carefully designed to stimulate either side of her clitoris but teasingly not touch the bud itself, was doing its job.
Underneath her ministrations, she could tell that both Jacqueline and Karl were desperate to come. Karl’s body was subject to a series of violent convulsions, while Jacqueline’s rubber-clad arms and legs were flailing and clutching at thin air as her whole body tried to resist the inevitable climax. Jenna looked at her audience, a sea of writhing bodies pressed against the glass, and arched an eyebrow. As one, they understood her unspoken question: should she show mercy to her slaves and let them come? Their contorted faces told her that they too were desperate for the release that only she, Jenna, could give them. She felt like a goddess, holding in her hands the power to unleash something that gave a complete new meaning to the word multiple orgasm. Throwing back her head, so that her dark snaky curls tumbled down her back, and raising her arms so that her splendid round breasts were clearly visible through the lines of her dress, she uttered a single word.
‘Come!’ she commanded, and they did. All of them. Not just Jacqueline and Karl, whose convulsions and juices she could feel and smell as they surrendered to the most intense orgasms they had ever had, but also the sea of bodies around her tensed and relaxed as their own orgasms engulfed them. Eyes were closed, lips were parted, strangers clutched at each other’s mouths and breasts, wanting to connect with as much flesh as possible to intensify this shared orgasm. Jenna felt as though she were the conductor of a mighty orchestra of human bodies and that this was the crescendo, the highlight of her symphony. It should have been the biggest power trip of her life.
But then she saw him: unmoved and unmoving in the midst of a sea of orgiastic bodies. He was wearing a tight black T-shirt that showed off his broad, muscular chest, and an iron mask in a vain attempt to disguise his identity, but Jenna would have recognised the set of that jaw and that rich, caramel-coloured hair anywhere. Alexander Louth folded his arms and remained impassive while all those around him were overwhelmed with sexual pleasure. Jenna’s own orgasm, which had been building at the tip of her clitoris, suddenly subsided and vanished as though it had never been there. Every fibre of her being wanted to call his name, to pull her dildo out of Karl’s bulging, meaty ass hole, to abandon her two favourite slaves, but the one thing a dominatrix can never do is lose her cool. And the one person Jenna did not want to lose her cool in front of was Alexander. She called the shots in these games; there was no way she was going to let him humiliate her. In the time it took for her to even have these thoughts and blink, he was gone again.
Jenna unstrapped her harness from her thighs and left the shaft still sticking in Karl’s arse. It would not do him any harm to be humiliated while it remained there for a couple of minutes. Knocking on the glass, she selected a slack-jawed young man whose build and face reminded her vaguely of Alexander and beckoned him into her mistress’s chamber. Pulling her leather panties to one side, Jenna ordered him to lick her until she came. Briefly he dropped to his knees, hypnotised by Jenna’s clit, his gaze occasionally darting towards the other side of the bed where Karl still lay on top of Jacqueline in her gimp costume, a big red dildo sticking out of his behind. The stranger was an obedient slave, and as his tongue flickered deftly and eagerly over her clit and probed the outer edges of her cunt, Jenna felt that fugitive orgasm return to her, as the tension began to build in her thighs and pelvis.
‘Suck it, slave,’ she said in her best dominatrix voice. The man between her legs obeyed, creating a tiny vacuum on her clit which finally brought forth the hot, wet, preclimactic flutterings that told her orgasm was now inevitable. But instead of opening her eyes and gazing at the sea of adoring faces on the other side of the glass, Jenna found that all she wanted to do as her orgasm washed over her was to close her eyes and pretend that the lookalike between her legs was really Alexander Louth, debased, obedient, the arrogant and powerful man transformed into Jenna’s willing slave.
CHAPTER EIGHT
JENNA FELT NERVOUS when she entered the office on Monday morning. She was sure Alexander had been in the club, and just a couple of weeks ago, she would have come right out and asked him what the hell he thought he was playing at. But she didn’t feel able to. Alexander was doing something to her, robbing her of the one thing she’d always been sure of: her ability to kick ass in any situation. As the day wore on and his face remained as inscrutable as ever, her resolve not to mention the incident strengthened. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. If he wasn’t going to play by her rules, she sure as hell wasn’t going to play by his.
Instead, she was super polite and deferential. She didn’t quite stoop to Kerry and Josh’s level of timidity, but she ceased all her suggestive behaviour and poured all her energies into working for Alexander. The harder she worked and the better results she got, the more dismissive and rude he was. The more he distanced himself from her, the more she wanted him, so the harder she worked to distract herself and prove herself. It was a vicious circle.
She soon found herself working late with him three or four nights a week. It nearly killed her to be so close and not barge into the office, straddle him and order him to fuck her, but she held her ground. Thank God for Barrington, Karl and Jacqueline, all ready and willing for her to take out her frustrations on them at the end of another long working week. They had grown tired of her talking about Alexander, but Jacqueline and Karl never tired of her binding and blindfolding them as she tongue-bathed their flesh, brought down a lash, teased them to the point of orgasm, walked on them in high heels, and Barrington was always at the ready when she suggested a horizontal workout. She was even resorting to domming Simon again: whenever Alexander really pissed her off she’d call Simon and demand that he be naked and hard in his office (and then not turn up for an hour). And then there were the procession of faceless slaves in clubs … Jenna wondered just how many bodies and minds she would have to master to satisfy the lust Alexander had awoken in her.
The side effect of Jenna’s hard work was that the department and Alexander’s career continued to rise and rise. Her reputation as a spin doctor and speech writer was growing, and Simon assured her it was only a matter of time before she was poached by an even more successful MP – a member of the Cabinet, perhaps. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
Work, home, gym and clubbing blended into one another as Jenna continued to play as hard as she worked. The surface of her desk was tidy but the space underneath it was out of control. Books, CDs, magazines, crash helmets and motorbike leathers, gym kit and shopping piled up under her desk. There was a pair of crystal-encrusted handcuffs she was saving for Karl and a strappy peephole leather garment she had bought for Jacqueline. It was made of thin red and black leather straps and looked rather like a swimming costume, if a swimming costume bit into the flesh and exposed the breasts, back, belly, ass and pussy, that was. In times of stress, Jenna would open the bag and caress it, promising herself that when she finally forced Jacqueline into it, all her tension would melt away.
Until the day she looked underneath her desk and the bag had gone. Jenna’s blood ran cold. Surely the cleaners wouldn’t have it, and Kerry or Josh would never go under her desk. There was only one other person with access to it: Alexander. She rummaged frantically under the desk, looking for it, and a shiver on the back of her neck told her that he was watching her. She looked up.
‘Looking for this?’ he said, his full lip curling into a sneer. Jenna was surprised and ashamed to find that
she was shaking. ‘I could sack you. What if a visitor found this? Having this kind of crap in my office is just asking for a scandal. This is going to go on your employment record.’ He walked over to a filing cabinet and pulled out a foolscap file in a dull emerald green. ‘I had given you an exemplary record despite your attempts at harassing me because you’re good at your job. But I’m going to change that now, and make you deliver the file to HR yourself.’ He opened the file and began to write in it.
Jenna smirked: that would go through Simon and she’d be able to cancel it totally. Alexander saw the fleeting smug smile and a shadow fell over his face, his features inscrutable and his eyes glinting like steel.
‘Or I could punish you myself, here and now.’ At the word punish, usually her command, Jenna felt her stomach flip and her pussy contract. A hot, wet flood moistened her panties. This was the wrong way around, surely?
‘It’s dress-down Friday, after all,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you slip into something more uncomfortable?’
Jenna didn’t know what she was doing as she removed her wrap dress, then her bra and her panties. Alexander held out the playsuit which had been custom-made for dainty little Jacqueline, and as if on auto-pilot, Jenna climbed into it. She had never felt so close to orgasm in her whole life: her entire body seemed to be plugged into an electric circuit, her skin alive to every light touch as she let Alexander force her arms and legs into the garment. Even on its loosest notch, it was far too tight for Jenna’s strapping frame. The belt between her legs dug in even tighter than it was supposed to, the thin leather strip dividing her body, resting directly on her clit and squeezing her pussy lips out the sides. He did the buckle up with a little yank.
‘Oh dear,’ he said, in mock disappointment. ‘This doesn’t seem to be quite your size.’ The shoulder straps dug into her flesh like a too-tight bra and the toned, firm flesh of her back spilled over the back strap. The straps were just right to encircle Jacqueline’s petite bosom, but stuffing Jenna’s full and bulbous breasts in them was another matter entirely. Alexander pulled mercilessly at her breasts, forcing the excess flesh through the tiny opening, so that her tits spilled and poked out. The roundess of her nipples was grossly exaggerated and Jenna found them super-sensitive. They swelled fast, hard nipples pointing towards Alexander, as though they were begging for his attention and his touch. His hands were all over her and as she felt her skin come to life she realised that that was all that really mattered.
Alexander stood before her, folded his arms, reached out and gave each constricted breast a tiny slap.
‘Dear me,’ he said. ‘That really is a terribly restrictive garment. I don’t know how you’re going to deliver your file wearing that. It’s a long walk through the corridors.’
She held out her hands for the file but Alexander had clearly been through the clutter under her desk more thoroughly than she had first thought. He produced the glittering handcuffs Jenna had intended for Karl. She felt her pussy throb with the nearness of his body and the masterful touch of him as he laced her hands behind her back and snapped shut the cuffs. With her shoulders pulled back, her tits felt more exposed than they ever had before. Her darkening erect nipples, like two pegs, told the story of her growing arousal. She opened her mouth to speak and Alexander put the file in her mouth. With a sinking heart she realised that she would have to take it to Simon. For anyone to see her like this would be awful, but for it to be Simon, the man who so respected her as a dominatrix, it would be unthinkable.
‘Down the corridor,’ he said. ‘You know where it is. I doubt he’ll be there, but I’ll enjoy watching you leave it under his door if not.’
She poked a nervous head out of the door, and stepped into the seemingly endless passageway. A stubborn voice inside Jenna’s head said, You’re not going to treat me like that, this is my job. Her body’s reaction told a different story. Her feet were carrying her in the direction of Simon’s office, a five-minute walk. Already the gusset of the harness was damp with her juices, and the musky smell of her arousal mingled with her perfume and the fusty odour of the old corridors and the floor polish the night cleaners had recently applied. She could hear their machines a few floors away. The knowledge that they could see her at any moment only served to intensify her arousal. She was on the receiving end of the kind of punishment she usually dished out, and she loved it. Her bare feet made tiny slapping sounds on the wooden floors and were silent on the carpeted areas. Behind her, Alexander’s expensive leather-soled shoes made almost no sound, but his heavy breathing told her that he was following her, watching to make sure she did not cheat.
Draughts whistled up and down the deserted corridors, making her skin turn to gooseflesh, which only made her tits poke out even more. The only heat in her body seemed to be a warm moisture between her legs, which she could not stop. In fact, it got worse with every step she took. The thin leather strap between her legs stimulated her clit with every move. She spread her legs a little, walking like a rider without a horse, to ease the tension and try to keep her climax under control.
‘Jenna, don’t walk like that. I want to see you sashay like Marilyn Monroe, one leg in front of the other.’ She obeyed, and found her clit begging for mercy, for release. Every step she took, every corridor and blind corner presented the possibility that she would walk into someone she knew. It didn’t take a genius to work out that parading through the House of Commons, late at night, naked but for a too-tight body harness counted as gross misconduct and was a sackable offence. I can stop this whenever I want, Jenna told herself, but she knew it wasn’t true. Step by agonising, delicious step, she made her way to Simon’s office.
The door, thank fuck, was locked. At least Simon wouldn’t be there to see her humiliation. Jenna opened her mouth and dropped the file on the floor. There was a tiny gap beneath the floor and the door, and Jenna made to kick the paper through with her toe.
‘Stop,’ said Alexander, and his voice was terrifyingly powerful. ‘Using your feet is cheating. Bend down and push it through.’
Jenna, hands shackled behind her back, knew that he meant her to do it with her mouth. She just maintained her balance as her muscular thighs flexed and then dropped to her knees with the control and grace of a ballerina. The leather straps cut into the top of her ass crack and dug into her shoulders like a blade, but she didn’t wince. She was distracted by the way it pinched her clitoris, sawing away at the tender bud and half-numbing it. The lower strap pushed on her bladder, causing her discomfort. Her nipples brushed the floor as she used her nose to shove the file, inch by inch, underneath the door. A tiny wind whipped through the gap and blew dust into her face and eyes and mouth. She blinked away the spontaneous, protective tears that her eyes formed and spat out the dust.
She had completed her task. She looked up at Alexander expectantly, wondering what was next. Christ, he looked horny: not a hair out of place, even his gold tie-pin totally straight, his collar and cuffs as clean, his suit perfectly pressed. Only the rod of flesh encased in his crotch and a throbbing vein on his temple gave any indication that he was aroused. Jenna was struck by a vision of herself fucking Alexander but instead of the usual mental images of riding him like a pony, of being on top and in control, in this fantasy she was crushed beneath his masculine bulk, lying on her back, motionless and feminine and vulnerable while his cock found her cunt and sliced into it like a hot knife through butter. The power of this image was so surprisingly strong that Jenna felt herself let out a wail of frustration and longing.
‘Shhh,’ said Alexander. ‘Someone might hear you, and we can’t have that, can we? I think we should get you back to my office where we can’t be heard.’ Jenna rose to her feet with an athlete’s control and strength in a single bound, only to find Alexander was shaking his head. ‘I don’t think standing up will be necessary,’ he said. Next thing Jenna knew, he had hold of her wrists, and yanked them painfully over her head so that she lost her balance. She fell backwards, but instead of catch
ing her, he let her fall, pulling on her hair so that he was dragging her by the hair and wrists. Jenna felt her legs and thighs graze against polished floor and burn on carpet as he pulled her along like a caveman dragging his woman back to his lair. Occasionally, he would hook a finger underneath the shoulder strap of her harness, pulling it tighter over her. She closed her eyes, not because she didn’t want anyone to see her any more but because the mere sight of her constricted breasts made her want to come, and she wouldn’t let her satisfaction be his.
Jenna knew she was back in his office when the door slammed and he bolted it and let go of her wrists and hair. She opened her eyes and lay panting on the floor, letting the feeling come back to her wrists and her tingling clit. He stood above her, still fully dressed.
‘You didn’t think it would end up like this, did you?’ he breathed, smacking her with something. ‘Your little games you were playing, showing me your tits like a slut, you never thought you’d be the one under my power, did you? You thought you’d have me.’
He took her tit and twisted it, his big fingers dwarfing her swollen nipple. This was a punishment Jenna had often dealt to her slaves and was shocked to find how much she liked being on the other end of it. The pain started small and grew so big she had to cry out.
‘You’re soaking. What a dirty little slut you are. Pretending to be a dom, but you were gagging for this all the time.’
His light slaps travelled down her body, smacks raining down on her tits, belly and lower abdomen. Alexander pressed with the base of his hand on her bladder. It was full and Jenna winced. His eyes widened with cruel hope. Oh no, please not that, thought Jenna as he pressed harder. Watersports were her one taboo, the only punishment she’d never dished out to even her most depraved slaves. She shook her head.