Domination Inc.

by Drusilla Leather

  She caught hold of the bottom hem of her top and hesitated, knowing that when she raised it she would be baring her breasts to Louisa’s gaze. When she had displayed herself to the coach full of football supporters earlier in the afternoon it had been a game, teasing them with something she knew they couldn’t have. Now the situation was chillingly serious, and Louisa intended to have everything Cindy had to offer. Cindy had the nasty feeling that Laurel’s fate, too, was bound up in whether or not she complied, in which case there was only one thing to do. She pulled the top over her head in one smooth movement, and threw it to the floor. Now all she wore was a red lace G-string, and she suspected she would not be allowed to keep that on for much longer.

  To her surprise, however, Louisa did not immediately demand that she remove it. Instead, she ordered Cindy to clasp her hands behind her head, the movement lifting the little blonde’s breasts and thrusting them outwards. The tip of the riding crop flickered over Cindy’s nipples, titillating them into hardness. Damn you, you bitch, Cindy thought, you know this is starting to turn me on. Why don’t you just beat me with that thing, get it over with, and then we can find out what all this is really about?

  Louisa’s next words startled her. ‘My boots are dirty. I want you to clean them, slut – or you know what to expect. On your knees, and keep your hands where they are.’

  Cindy quietly knelt at Louisa’s feet, the position awkward given that her fingers were still linked behind her head, and pressed her lips to the toe of Louisa’s left riding boot. There was not a scrap of dirt on the boot, nothing to suggest that it had ever been worn out of the house, and Cindy wondered whether, despite her outfit, Louisa had ever been near a horse in her life. This was not about cleanliness, however, this was about obedience, and Cindy knew she had to obey. She slicked the point of her tongue over the highly polished leather, laving and worshipping the symbol of Louisa’s dominance. When she had covered every inch of the boot with her tongue, having stopped frequently to gather more saliva in her dry mouth, she was obliged to turn her attention to its twin. Her nostrils were filled with the scent of leather and polish and she was growing increasingly thirsty, but she kept on diligently with her task. Eventually, she sat back on her heels, and looked up at Louisa.

  The woman glanced down at her scornfully. ‘They’ll do, I suppose, but you haven’t finished yet.’ As she spoke she was pulling down her jodhpurs. She wore no underwear beneath them, and Cindy was presented with the sight of her luxuriant chestnut bush. She moved forward, so that she was straddling Cindy’s head with her legs. ‘Pleasure me, slut,’ Louisa ordered, parting her thighs more widely.

  Cindy hurried to comply, aware that Louisa was still holding the riding crop. Her tongue snaked out and up, making contact with the soft flesh of Louisa’s sex. As she licked along the length of the crimson furrow, Louisa’s juices began to flow, filling Cindy’s mouth with the ripe tangy taste of a sexually aroused woman. Louisa’s clitoris peeked out from its protective cowl, fat and juicy, and Cindy took it between her lips, nibbling on it gently. This seemed to please the other woman, who threw her head back and moaned low in her throat. Cindy sucked harder, seeking to coax a climax from Louisa. She was soon rewarded with a guttural cry and a flood of salty liquid in her mouth as Louisa reached orgasm.

  Cindy stopped her oral ministrations and sat back on her heels, aware that her mouth and chin were smeared with Louisa’s sex juices. It was always exciting to bring another woman to orgasm, and Cindy was aware that the gusset of her G-string was starting to dampen with her own nectar.

  ‘Did I please you… Mistress?’ Cindy asked, the word bitter as aloes in her mouth. But she knew it was what Louisa Lawson wanted to hear.

  ‘You did your best, I suppose, but there’s only one way you can truly please me,’ Louisa said. ‘Stand up and go over to that chair.’ She indicated a low-backed wooden chair with Queen Ann legs and a padded seat covered with slightly faded damson velvet. Cindy did as she was told. ‘Now bend over it.’

  Cindy shuddered, but placed herself in the required position. Everything was building up to the inevitable moment when Louisa beat her.

  She was aware of the other woman coming to stand behind her. ‘Spread your legs,’ Louisa ordered. As she did so, Cindy was aware of the G-string slipping between her bulging labia, cradling the secret places between them more closely. She knew now why Louisa had not asked her to remove the little garment: there was no real point when it already left her buttocks entirely bare. She suspected Louisa was contemplating them now, imagining how the riding crop would soon be striping their soft white skin. She felt the merest tap on her left cheek as Louisa measured the distance, and then the crop fell.

  Fiery pain seared across both buttocks, and Cindy howled. A hand-spanking or a paddling she could have taken stoically almost for as long as it landed, riding the pain until it began to take on that sweet dark undercurrent of pleasure, but the crop was a more brutal, unforgiving instrument. It fell again, and again; three more stripes in quick succession that branded themselves as deeply into Cindy’s consciousness as her flesh. Her limbs trembled and her knuckles whitened as she tried to steady herself against the all-consuming waves of agony.

  Louisa had not finished with her yet. When the crop fell again it was aimed squarely at the underhang of Cindy’s bottom, where the skin was more tender. There were tears in Cindy’s eyes, now, but she dared not lessen her grip on the chair to brush them away. There was a long moment when it seemed as though the punishment was over, and then one last stroke fell, slicing across the tops of her thighs. Cindy shrieked so loudly she thought they must have heard her on the coast, but she was answered only with Louisa’s low, mocking laugh.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ Louisa said, ‘and keep looking straight ahead.’ Cindy did as she was told, hearing what sounded like a drawer being opened, and strange rustling noises. Then Louisa was behind her once more.

  This time it was only the woman’s long slim fingers which touched Cindy’s abused buttocks, and they were covered in a cool, soothing balm. Louisa worked quickly and gently over the weals she had raised on Cindy’s flesh, the cream taking some of the heat away. Her touch was assured, almost loving, and Cindy knew that if she had been required to, she would have called this woman ‘Mistress’ gladly, and despised herself for being broken to another’s will so easily.

  There was the soft, sucking sound of Louisa dipping her fingers into the pot, but no more cream was applied. Cindy wanted to turn her head and find out what was going on, but she knew that was not advisable. So she waited, and when Louisa’s fingers hooked into the waistband of her soaking wet G-string and pulled it down until it was around her knees, she braced herself for whatever was about to happen.

  The next thing she felt was something solid pressing at the entrance to her sex. It had the domed head of a fully erect penis, but the cool alien hardness of plastic. The greasy lubrication that was enabling it to enter so easily must have been that last dollop of cream Louisa had taken from the pot. Without a second thought, Cindy splayed her legs more widely to let the dildo slide between her pussy lips. It lodged securely within her, and then was thrust deeper, in one swift movement.

  Cindy felt soft skin pressing against her sore buttocks, and realised that the phallus was strapped around Louisa’s waist. No doubt there was a second, equally large dildo inserted deeply into Louisa’s cunt, filling and stimulating her just as its twin was filling and stimulating Cindy.

  Louisa pulled back until the phallus had almost slipped out of Cindy’s sex, then slammed it in hard. She began to fuck the little blonde with power and grace, the well-lubricated dildo thrusting to the very depths of Cindy’s wet channel. With every forward stroke, Louisa’s groin made contact with Cindy’s buttocks, pressing against the sore stripes the crop had left behind. And yet, each painful reminder of the ordeal she had undergone only seemed to arouse Cindy further, pushing her rapidly towards orga
sm.

  The room was silent except for Louisa’s muttered oaths and Cindy’s tortured breathing. Somewhere in the house a grandfather clock chimed the hour. Louisa reached round and began to play with the puckered buds of Cindy’s nipples. Cindy moaned, feeling jolts of pleasure scissor down to her womb.

  ‘Not yet,’ Louisa said, sensing that Cindy was reaching a peak of excitement. ‘You’ll come when I tell you, and not before, or it’ll be the worse for you.’

  ‘Yes, Mistress,’ Cindy replied, the word falling from her lips unbidden.

  Louisa was thrusting into her harder than ever, and Cindy suspected that the other woman was close to her own orgasm. Cindy desperately wanted to come, but knew she had to time her orgasm to Louisa’s command. Her resolve was shattered when Louisa slipped a hand between Cindy’s legs and lightly touched her clitoris. It was enough to send her spiralling down into the orgasm her body craved so badly.

  When the last ripple of pleasure had finally faded, she opened her eyes to see Louisa glaring at her. The dildo had slipped out of Cindy’s body and protruded from Louisa’s crotch, slick and shiny with Cindy’s copious juices. More unnervingly, Louisa was holding the riding crop once more.

  ‘Did I say you could do that?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mistress,’ Cindy replied softly. ‘I just couldn’t help myself.’

  ‘You’ll have to be taught that when I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed. Do I make myself clear?

  Before Cindy could answer, Louisa’s arm had moved like lightning and the crop slashed down, the tip making agonising contact with Cindy’s right nipple. She had no chance to recover before the crop had fallen again, on her left nipple this time. Cindy clutched at the chair, fighting to keep her balance; the pain in her tormented nipples was like nothing she had known, but it was sending messages that her confused nerve-endings were translating as pleasure, and her womb was throbbing in orgasm once more.

  Unable to stand on her weak legs, Cindy sank to the floor. Louisa turned away; in contempt, Cindy suspected, at how she had reacted to the punishment. However, she was looking in the drawer from which she had produced the strap-on dildo and the lubricant, and Cindy realised that, like Pandora’s Box, there was always something lurking in its deepest recesses. This time, Louisa produced a collar and a pair of wrist cuffs, together with a slim metal pole about eighteen inches long.

  Cindy was unable to resist as Louisa put the collar around her neck and buckled it securely, then fastened the wrist cuffs in place. They had been designed, Cindy quickly realised, so that they could be attached to the metal pole, which ran practically the length of her spine once it was in place. She found herself forced to kneel upright, the curious bondage contraption allowing her hardly any movement. As a final insult, a cuff was strapped around her ankle and tethered securely to the leg of the library’s heavy wooden writing desk.

  ‘Get used to it,’ Louisa told her, as Cindy wriggled experimentally in her bonds. ‘If your boss is putting up any sort of resistance, you’ll be in it for a while.’ And with that, she turned and stalked haughtily out of the library, leaving Cindy alone with her increasingly worried thoughts.

  Cindy woke from a dream in which someone was trying to stuff her into a very small barrel, in which she was intended to negotiate Niagara Falls. She had no idea how long she had slept, but the sun seemed to be quite high in the sky, and she assumed it was mid-morning. This was not, she thought ruefully, how she usually spent a Sunday morning. Usually she would be waking after a night’s escort work, ravenous and ready for a decent breakfast and a trawl through the morning papers. She was more than ready for her breakfast, but she doubted that the Lawsons would be falling over themselves to provide bacon and eggs and a cup of freshly-brewed coffee.

  She had been left in her cramped kneeling position for a couple of hours before anyone had come to check on her. This time, it had been Clive Lawson. He had not spoken a word to her, but had merely removed the metal pole before securely fastening the wrist cuffs together. He had then unzipped his trousers and presented his almost fully erect cock to Cindy’s unprotesting lips. Knowing what was required of her, she had begun to lick the bulbous head, the point of her tongue flicking into the little eye to scoop out the droplets of juice which were forming there. Swiftly and efficiently she had brought him to the point of no return, at which moment he had caught hold of her head and clamped it securely to his crotch. Unable to move, Cindy had felt her mouth filling with salty gouts of his come, which she had been obliged to swallow. Then he had simply zipped himself up once more, turned on his heel and left the room.

  Grateful at least that she was no longer in her restrictive bondage, even though her wrists were still tethered behind her, Cindy had curled into a little ball. From what Louisa had said, her comparative freedom meant that Laurel was doing as the Lawsons wanted. Although Cindy suspected it wasn’t actually what the Lawsons wanted at all. Someone else was responsible for what was happening, she was sure of it; someone who knew plenty about both herself and Laurel, and probably everyone else at the agency. It didn’t make sense. Laurel had no enemies, as far as Cindy knew: the only person who had ever caused her any problems was Roger Preston, and he was missing, presumed lost up his own fundament. Too sore and tired to devote any serious thought to the problem, Cindy had closed her eyes and given in to sleep.

  And now she was wide awake once more, and aware that she was no longer the only person in the room. Quite a crowd had gathered, in fact. Clive and Louisa Lawson, as immaculately turned out as ever and giving no indication that they had a naked, bound woman in their drawing room. Laurel, head bowed submissively, wearing nothing but a pair of tattered stockings, and with her hands fastened behind her back. And there was a fourth person, who Cindy recognised immediately despite the fact that he’d dyed his hair since she’d last seen him. Roger Preston. Suddenly, things began to fall into place.

  The two girls risked a glance at each other, and Cindy winked, trying to indicate to Laurel that although they might be down, they were certainly not out. She couldn’t help noticing that Laurel’s sex lips were flushed and swollen, and her nipples bruised, and she wondered what had happened to her boss in the time after they had been separated.

  Roger strode over and looked down at Cindy where she was huddled on the floor. ‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked sarcastically.

  ‘Roger!’ Cindy replied. ‘I’d like to say how nice it is to see you again, except I can’t. Why don’t you sod off back to whatever hole it is you’ve crawled out of, and leave us all alone?’

  ‘Ah, Cindy, elegant and refined as ever.’ Roger sighed. ‘I thought a night in bondage might have taught you the value of keeping your mouth shut, but obviously not. Perhaps I should send Louisa for one of her ball gags, and we’ll see your lips stretched round that, eh?’

  ‘Why don’t you cut out all the macho crap, and tell me and Laurel what’s going through that devious little mind of yours?’ Cindy said. After the cropping she had received from Louisa and her uncomfortable night in the wrist cuffs, she was in the mood for a fight, and if being stroppy was getting up Roger’s nose, so much the better. She had never particularly enjoyed working for him when he had been joint owner of the old agency, much preferring to deal with Laurel. If he was back on the scene, it could only mean bad news.

  ‘Oh, Laurel knows exactly what’s happening here. Why don’t you tell your little friend my plans for the future, Laurel?’ He caught a handful of Laurel’s hair and forced her head up until her eyes met Cindy’s.

  ‘Roger wants his share of the agency back,’ Laurel said quietly. ‘He’s pleased with the way we’ve been running it in his absence, and he wants to reward us for our efforts by creaming off half the profits.’ A new, more defiant tone crept into her voice. ‘And he can’t understand why I won’t agree to this arrangement.’

  ‘I must admit, I thought we’d have broken you between us by n
ow,’ Roger said reflectively. ‘Well, if not a hardened slapper like Miss Beresford here, then I thought keeping Laurel chained up for a while might have knocked some sense into her, but obviously not. I think we shall have to raise the stakes a little.’ He paced round the room, hands clasped behind his back, surveying the two girls. ‘I’m sure that at some point over the last few hours you must have wondered how I know so much about the two of you and your little sexual proclivities, and about the new format of the agency. I couldn’t have done it all by myself, you must have realised that, and now I think it’s time you met the person who’s been so vital in the success of this operation up till now.’

  Roger strode over to the door. When he pulled it open, Cindy almost gasped aloud in shock as she saw who stood framed there.

  Laurel, too, was gaping at the figure in the doorway in disbelief. Five years had wrought substantial changes: the mousy, messy curls and the puppy fat had gone, replaced by sleek, black, waist-length locks and a svelte, sensual figure, but there was no mistaking the cold green eyes and the expression of hatred contained within them.

  ‘Nina!’ she gasped, at the same time as Cindy exclaimed, ‘Devon!’

  The two girls looked at each other. ‘That’s Devon?’ Laurel asked Cindy. ‘I knew it was a false name as soon as I heard it.’

  ‘So, who is this?’ Cindy asked. ‘Do you two know each other?’

  ‘You could say that,’ Laurel said. ‘This is Nina, my stepsister. I haven’t seen her for a few years—’

  ‘And I’m as pleased about that as you are, believe me,’ Nina retorted. Laurel was struck by the pronounced American twang in her stepsister’s voice. No wonder Joe, who knew nothing of the bad blood that flowed between the members of the Angell family, had been taken in so convincingly. ‘You can’t know how nice it is to see you trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, sister dearest.’