“Yes,” Leslie nodded.
“You’re not going to balk because I’ll be even harder on you if you do. Trust me on that. I don’t care how much you like or don’t like pain, I’ll give you what you need, that understood?”
Quivering in fear, Leslie bit her lip like a small child.
“You may have seen me be affectionate with Dagne, but be assured she deserved it because she had taken a lot of pain, giving me what I needed. She was a good girl, just like you’ll be. You only get my loving care when you do what you’re told. Got that?”
“Yes.”
“You’re my submissive, you belong to no one else, unless I give you away. Your body is mine now, I don’t care how much you want to fuck your little bitch whore Robin, you don’t give her so much as a kiss unless I tell you to.”
“Yes, sir,” Leslie responded almost breathless. Her mind was spinning, feeling at any minute as if it might explode. All this coming down on her so quickly. She’d even called her sir… the word jumped from of her mouth unexpectedly, and yet, referring to her with this term of respect seemed perfectly natural. She’d climbed right into the role with no effort at all.
“I’m going to make it very easy on you. You won’t have to ask any more questions, you won’t have to stew in your head for days, I’m taking all those questions away. All you need to know is that what I say is your command.
“Yes, sir,” Leslie said, hypnotized by the sexual sensations that Jane created just with the tone of her voice.
“Now, come forward. Sit at the edge of the couch,” Jane ordered.
Leslie obeyed, moving to the edge of the seat where she couldn’t help but sit straight, straight as an arrow straight.
“Cup your breasts.”
Leslie responded, taking each pink marked breast in a hand and pushing it up, presenting it to the scrutinizing woman before her. Jane rose from her chair and moved to the cabinet on the far wall, drawing out a thin cane-like instrument. Maybe not a cane, but a baton, like a conductor’s baton. She walked back, taking her time, then stood in front of her new submissive, and drawing the instrument back, she brought it down on Leslie’s left breast with a quick cut. A second cut immediately followed on the right.
Leslie gasped, her body instinctively seizing up and backing away. Then, just as quickly, she righted herself sitting up straight again, staring down stunned by the two glaring red lines. Jane was quick to follow up another pair of slicing cuts that etched another two lines in her milky skin. She suspected that, following Robin’s lead, that two more would follow. She closed her eyes now waiting, trying to calm and allow her body to fully feel the enormity of what was taking place. The pain strangely crushed her resistance, sending her spiraling downward to a submissive place she’d never been.
She squelched her desire to scream, suspecting that Jane would be displeased if she did.
What was this? Suddenly, thinking and feeling like a submissive.
Jane backed off and returned the baton to the cabinet, while Leslie continued to hold her red marked breasts. The throbbing pain was slowly subsiding.
“I want you to meet me at The Arrowhead tonight,” Jane said. “You know where that is?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s say seven.”
Leslie nodded.
“Good. So, you’re hot, huh?” Jane asked.
“Very,” Leslie answered. She’d realized only then how heavy her breathing had become, how her chest was heaving, and her crotch twitching so badly that it was difficult to sit still.
“Good, but don’t let that pussy of yours insist on cumming, I’ll tell you when you can cum. You understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Leslie answered. She watched as Jane returned to her chair.
“Now, get me another beer, will you?” Jane ordered.
Leslie scurried to the kitchen and found Jane’s stash of beer. She thought of getting one for herself, but she had the feeling that Jane would have told her to, if that’s what she had wanted. Was being submissive always this hard? Knowing when to make decisions and when not to? Jane had said she’d take away all those decisions. But it seemed now, she had even more to think about. Especially since she didn’t want to do anything wrong. In the last ten minutes, she’d suddenly discovered that pleasing Jane was the most important thing in her life.
After handing Jane the beer, Leslie stood at her side, silently waiting for further instructions.
“You can go now,” Jane said at last.
“Go?” Leslie questioned. As in leave? She didn’t want to leave. Leaving meant waiting, and she couldn’t wait any more.
“It’s what I said, isn’t it?” Jane cut curtly into her thoughts. “Get some rest, you’ll be up most of the night.”
“Yes, sir,” Leslie replied. The meeting was over as simple as that, Leslie leaving in an awkward rush, with no further comment. She had until seven o’clock before she’d be with Jane again. She was halfway to her car before she realized that she had neglected to button her blouse.
After spending the day obsessing on the possibilities of servitude to Jane, Leslie was in her car driving to The Arrowhead at six thirty. The club was a lesbian meeting place, with no specific agenda other than providing its clientele with a private place to meet other gay females. There were no S&M overtones, in fact the club seemed rather bright and cheery in tone compared to Jane’s somber purposes. Leslie wondered if the Domme had chosen it for that reason. An afternoon’s worth of second guessing trying to figure Jane’s motives had only left her more anxious, second guessing her own reasons for submitting to this woman.
What it finally came down to: Leslie wanted Jane. Desire, lust, longing, that strange concoction of arousal that had arisen during their first meeting and was confirmed at Sapphos, couldn’t be put off or ignored. It didn’t even matter about Robin anymore. Yes, Jane was right, Leslie wanted her to teach her how to love Robin more, more in the way that Robin desired and needed. But behind that lofty goal was Leslie’s own desire to be used by this remarkable master. She wanted to be taken, abused and then deeply loved. Why? The answer was a mystery that would have to wait for later to be solved – if it ever was.
Leslie had never felt about any woman, any lover, the way she felt about Jane. Maybe this would be a long term relationship, maybe not; it didn’t matter. All she cared about now was how the zealous butch woman would subdue her. She wanted to crawl at her feet, be at her mercy, and experience her tender care once the blows had driven her over the edge.
Arriving at The Arrowhead at the stroke of seven o’clock, Leslie walked in the door, not immediately seeing the object of her search. But while trying to decide what to do next, she heard her name called.
“You’re Leslie?” a quiet voice asked.
Leslie turned to a woman just behind her, seeing a young woman with huge eyes and pigtails bobbing on the side of her impish face.
“Yes.”
“Jane’s expecting you.”
The sassy tramp led Leslie into the club, which was already quite full for seven o’clock – as filled with people as it was cigarette smoke. The music playing in the background was noticeably erotic.
Jane sat at a table with another woman who looked a good deal like Jane herself. Not in appearance, but in attitude. They were obviously both dominant, both butch.
“This is Leslie,” Jane introduced her to the woman, although she didn’t introduce Leslie in return. “Sit down,” her Domme ordered and pulled out a chair next to her, which Leslie immediately took. The two women continued talking for some time, ignoring Leslie, who listened attentively to their conversation, even though they were talking about people Leslie didn’t know.
“I think she’s going to bring her tonight,” the other woman said.
“I doubt it. She’d never come with her,” Jane said. “The little one is hardly sub.”
“Maybe this time Sybil doesn’t have a choice.”
“She never should have in the first place,” Jane retur
ned. She finished her Scotch and soda and set the glass firmly on the table. Finally, she turned to Leslie. “Open your blouse.” She then sat back in her chair and stared at Leslie with a stony expression. Not a hint of affection; the discipline had commenced.
The club was open, the lights still bright enough to see clearly, and suddenly she was being asked to expose herself in a public place, something she had never done before. She shivered nervously, waiting as long as she dared, eyeing Jane’s unwavering attention. The excitement racing through her body finally rid her of all trepidation. She began unbuttoning her blouse, slowly, her fingers shaking so much, that she could hardly work the buttons. Jane’s intent gaze did not waver, as if it were there to give her courage, or an ample threat to ensure her obedience. With three buttons loosened, Leslie’s blouse opened wide to reveal the alabaster white of her breasts and the bright red mark from Jane’s baton.
“Impressive,” the Domme said, admiring them. “Put some on her ass, too, why don’t you?”
“In good time, when she earns it,” Jane said. She reached out and grabbed one of Leslie’s breasts with her hand and squeezed the sore flesh, watching her sub’s expression closely, waiting to see a wince of pain. Leslie shuddered, her body becoming taut, but she managed to force back the pained response. She had to prove herself worthy.
“Close your blouse,” Jane finally said, satisfied. “Go to the bathroom and wait for me in the far stall.”
“Yes, sir,” Leslie replied.
“And take off your pants,” she added.
Leslie nodded, as she quickly moved from her seat to the back of the bar.
Leslie waited at least twenty minutes for Jane to join her in the far stall of the restroom, an extra large one, no doubt picked to accommodate their activity, but still cold, as cold as the tiny square tiles on the floor were stark and cold. Leslie waited sitting with her naked ass on the toilet seat, her pants hanging on the door hook.
When Jane finally came crashing through the door, she jerked her up by the arm, the stall door banging, though remaining open.
With Jane’s foot on the stool, Leslie was flung over her Domme’s leather-clad thigh, so that her ass was exposed to anyone outside the stall. “Her cunt’s yours,” Jane told the friend who’d followed her in. A hand quickly reached in and felt for the wet hole between Leslie’s thighs. Her labia were pulled hard, her clitoris pinched, her pussy violated by fingers with rings that scratched her tender flesh.
Leslie remained mute, cringing inside, but compliant, doing her very best to contain her fear.
“You need grease?” Jane asked the other woman.
“No, this one’s flooding.” The hand penetrated her pussy deeper, pushing its way inside, all the way in, after three fingers there were four, then the whole hand shoved its way past the small opening. Not the biggest fist to screw her, but the meanest for the way she demanded such a quick entrance.
Leslie gasped, but that was all.
“Been fist fucked before?” Jane asked. She had her hand at Leslie’s neck, massaging her ever so gently, as the rude hand behind her worked her insides to a frenzy.
“Yes,” Leslie managed to gasp.
Taken by the anonymous fist, her body heat rose so fast she thought she would pass out; but then something cold abruptly hit her anus, and more fingers, Jane’s or the woman’s other hand breached her rear—Leslie couldn’t be sure.
“She’ll take a lot,” the other woman said.
The rape was ruthless, without any compassion, except what tenderness Jane delivered with her warm fingers at the base of her neck and the back of her head. It was hard for Leslie to believe she could orgasm this way, but a surge of energy shot through her lightning fast. She bucked noticeably as she withstood the fierce pain, and then cried out, grunting and groaning uncontrollably, experiencing both the pain and its accompanying pleasure. Being so completely absorbed in the moment, she forgot completely where she was.
“Such a slut you are, Leslie Patrick,” Jane spat. “Now lick her fingers dry.”
While still bent over Jane’s leg, still gazing at the toilet below, Leslie felt the fingers stuffed into her mouth. She tasted herself on the latex covered hand; latex and female cum were an odd but familiar combination.
“You got your work cut out for you,” the woman said, sarcastically. The woman’s hand soon disappeared and Leslie listened as she exited the restroom.
Leslie didn’t move because Jane didn’t move. Her Domme’s hand rested on her neck, the other on her bottom. So gently, so without malice. She suddenly realized in a moment of clarity that it had been Jane’s fingers in her ass – they were still working her back channel as if they planned to stay there all night.
“You mind well for a novice,” Jane declared. “I’m glad I don’t have to beat you for disappointing me. We’ll see how wide open you can be tonight, see how much your body can manage at one time. I’ll see what you can take, and then, I’ll push you harder.” This was a threat. “You have a nice ass, and now it’s my ass. Mine to beat and torture.” She continued with her fingers pressing into Leslie’s rectum deeper still. “I love brutalizing bottoms the best of all, I think; they can take so much punishment.”
The sound of women coming and going, peeing, flushing toilets, running water in regular intervals made Leslie wonder how many had spotted her there in the open toilet stall with Sir Jane’s hand at her ass. How many women had seen the other Domme take her with her fist? Such a fine thing, oblivion: being able to think of nothing but sex and body heat. This glaring restroom seemed like a crude place for love, but that didn’t stop her from delving into that emotion.
“Stay as you are,” Sir Jane ordered. Then the woman’s fingers vacated her bottom hole, and she wiped them on toilet paper. Something cold, smelling of leather, stiff to her senses, circled her neck. Collared. Jane’s leg suddenly dropped from the toilet seat to the floor, and she pushed Leslie to the cold tile with a firm hand.
The collar jerked, rubbing harshly against her neck. She was on a leash being led like a dog through the restroom to the carpeted hallway where several women stopped to watch, then to a stairway leading up to a room where she was shown to a corner.
“Keep your head on the carpet,” Sir Jane ordered.
Positioned as ordered, Leslie’s naked greased rear remained higher than her head, signifying its importance. Jane walked away, while Leslie peered out of the corner of her eye to the center of the dimly lit room. She spotted a submissive bound to wood beams that rose on either side of the sub’s body, and were joined by a crossbeam above. The woman was stretched out, with ankles fixed at the base of the structure and her hands fastened overhead. She faced Leslie, her resplendent breasts had been marked, as had her entire body. The red appearing on her white flesh reminded Leslie of Dagne and Zelda, and the others she’d seen punished this way. That white marked flesh reminded her of her own. The sub had been gagged, blinded by a mask, her head now flung back as she was deeply engrossed in her scene. Her groin writhed on the handle of a whip that had been thrust into her cunt by a Domme with a nasty scowl.
Leslie heard a climax in the bottom’s muffled voice, and saw a surge of pleasure move through her imprisoned form. When she shivered and collapsed against her bonds, her Domme withdrew the whip, flailing the spent body front to back until the sub was at the desired state of surrender. Finally, she was freed, falling to the floor; though prodded with the whip, she quickly moved away from the apparatus.
Leslie studied the empty rack, assuming she was next, though it was a long time before Sir Jane tugged at the leash again. In the interim, Jane adjusted things until they were the way she wanted them. Then returning to Leslie’s side, she pulled up on the leash again, leading her sub to a stool between the wood beams. “Sit,” she ordered.
Jane knelt on one knee in front of her, putting clamps on Leslie’s nipples and screwing them down until Leslie winced. She then stood up with her eyes fixed on Leslie’s face, no doubt reading the
fear and lust she saw there.
Leslie felt the woman’s lust deep in her bones, but more thrilling than that was a feeling of compassion and respect emanating from Jane’s dark eyes, which seemed to surround Leslie in a protective cocoon.
Yes, little things, she’d said. It was the little things, grabbing her in the middle of her cunt, making her want what she’d never wanted before. She was surprised how much she throbbed between her legs despite the fact that she’d already experienced one powerful cum that night. When Jane’s hand carefully pulled her thighs apart, Leslie realized how tightly they’d been pressed together. Opening them, she relaxed and her nervous arousal bloomed.
There was no one else in the room. Just she and Sir Jane. It felt so… damned… intimate. Without the electricity of Sapphos, or the comfort of Jane’s cottage, just the barren emptiness of the meager room, she and Jane alone. Leslie felt closer to this woman than any soul on earth.
Jane’s fingers pushed inside her again, her cunt this time, while Leslie scooted on the stool to accommodate them more easily. Withdrawing her fingers, Jane pressed her nails into Leslie’s fat labia until her sub jolted and a funny sounding cry came from her lips. Jane reached out and stroked the collar and Leslie’s neck, then affectionately ran her fingers through her hair, all the while pinching her very hard down below. The experience at the same time tender and punishing.
“Come to my lips and lick them,” Her Domme said drawing Leslie’s head to hers.
Her breath smelled sweet, no bitter cigarette smell, instead a natural aroma, and her lips were soft, belying her masculinity. Leslie liked the curious opposites of Jane’s body and licked her as ordered with a growing passion behind the act, until Jane suddenly pulled away.
“Get on your knees, and suck my breasts!”
The probing fingers at Leslie’s cunt remained, the tender hand at her neck still cupped her gently there. As Leslie slid off the stool dropping to her knees, she eyed Sir Jane’s simple vest; it would be easy to undo and she couldn’t wait to bare her lover’s breasts. Her heart beat a little faster as she unveiled the treasure: round white tits and pert nipples already scrunched into tight brown pebbles. Leslie lowered her mouth to Jane’s undulating flesh, letting her meandering tongue and her lust guide her. Her mouth moved lower to Jane’s belly and to the top of her leather pants, until the Domme’s hand suddenly pushed her sub’s head all the way to her cunt, still covered in aromatic leather. Leslie breathed in, catching the scent of leather and her heady female perfume.
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