The scratching snap of a lighter sounded. Mistress Lynn drew in a drag before expelling a plume of smoke in his direction that made him choke under his breath. It was a response she merely smiled to.
“Hand,” she ordered, and predicting her wishes he lifted it up with palm raised. With a tap to her cigarette, she shed the tip of ash onto the skin. The flakes were warm to the touch but thankfully not burning hot. Closing his hand into a fist to trap the debris he returned it to the floor to support them while listening to the television and the sound of them passing the time with idle talk and drink.
The discomfort in his limbs arose as it always did. This time it was emphasised by the fact that he was bearing twice his usual load and was constantly being called upon to accept the ash of Mistress Lynn.
Hours trailed past as he served as sentient furniture. Occasionally he refilled drinks or gathered snacks for them. Such opportunities were a valuable break to permit his body brief recovery. Each time he was sent forth, his order came with a taste of the cane or whip that formed a stamp of approval to his orders. His return was similarly given an abusive tang, followed by more if he had displeased them somehow. Locked to such a rota, the evening passed by and entered into night.
“Slave, go and get out of uniform. Clean it and hang it up. I want you in briefs, hood and collar, that is all,” stated Mistress Despoiler, retracting her legs as Mistress Lynn similarly set him free.
Staggering stiffly to his feet, he yelped and tottered as the cane swatted him. On a lonely march he proceeded upstairs to remove himself from the slick garments. Dumping the handful of ash into the toilet, he entered the separate bathroom to undress.
The interior of every garment was sodden with his sweat and trickles ran into his eyes from within the hood to sting his vision. With enthusiastic haste he started to remove the apparel. Washing it in the upstairs sink in warm soapy water he rinsed the items and hung them up inside out to dry. He simply removed the hood because he lacked the time to cleanse it and let it dry properly.
Chapter Ten
“Come here, slave,” ordered the Mistress.
Lynn looked to the door, wondering when the slave was going to return. She did not want to be caught displaying her submission. She wanted to keep him thinking that she was a true Mistress, out to replace his owner. Lynn wanted to torment his psyche as well as his body, just as so many others had done to her.
The sounds of movement upstairs and of running water told her that he was still performing his chores so she scampered over willingly to kneel before the lounging Mistress.
Lynn’s hands folded on her thighs as she kept her eyes low as she sat to perky attention. The corset was a rigid cell along her body, forcing her upright, stopping her from drooping and enforcing the regal stance.
A stiletto boot laid itself upon the bunched digits. The fabric sparkled in the light, catching refraction’s upon the wrinkles and smooth panes.
“Worship them, slave,” demanded Mistress Despoiler.
Without any measure of hesitation, Lynn took up the boot and lifted it to her lips. Lapping at the toe, she enclosed her mouth around the tip then slithered her tongue across the inserted point. Her eyes rolled up and down the stem of the Mistress’ leg. The fishnet cat suit encompassing her form swiftly led Lynn’s entranced vision up to the tight shorts. How she wanted to bury her face into the loins of her owner again, to please her so effectively, to know that she was favoured.
The eyes of the Mistress watched from within a deep glower, studying her, soaking up her submission, revelling in it as Lynn so flagrantly offered herself for slavery.
Clenching her rear to the plug, she started to take long laps up the calves of her owner and relished the subtle tang of the fabric. Patent leather was a fine enough delicacy to her palate, but she preferred the far more exotic and substantially brash dish of latex.
“And the other one, slave,” she ordered. Placing the cleaned boot on Lynn’s shoulder she used her as a footrest while presenting the second boot for adoration.
With equal zeal, Lynn attended her duty. The weight upon her made her feel all the more servile. Once she had lapped the smooth material all over and swallowed up the heel and sucked upon it, the Mistress placed the cleansed boot on the other shoulder.
The legs of the Mistress were like scissors, clasping Lynn’s head and keeping her face forward so that she looked solely along the presented spectacle of the Mistress.
Lynn’s eyes were wide with lust, the vision one that had her aching to touch herself. The boots gripping her head, using her as nothing more than a piece of animate furniture. Her long shapely legs, encased in tight mesh, reaching up to the glorious abdomen of the Mistress, her sex sealed within the burnished hot pants. The Mistress was slumped into the chair like a reclining Roman noble lady, spiteful and oppressive, ready to do as she wished with her slaves and possessed of ultimate power over all. Her breasts strained against the bra, demanding attention but hiding from the touch of those who needed permission to do so. The furtive pair of clues that were her nipple rings tantalised Lynn’s mind. How she wanted to take one of those hidden teats in her mouth, to lick and fawn over the woman’s breasts, even just to hold them, to worship them as the divine artefacts they were. Even her face was a captivating portrait. Her sinister smirk was a smile that possessed hidden secrets and uncertain motives. It was a capricious grin that radiated strength. The military cap granted her eyes a shadow that made them dark, brooding, intolerant of questioning and yet still full of mischief.
One leg curled slightly and started to press to the back of her head, pulling Lynn in. She willingly complied with the directive, letting her face be manoeuvred into the crotch of the Mistress.
With a wiggle she buried her nose and mouth into the warm rubber. Drowning in the scent she fought to get breath through, smothering herself as the mesh thighs of the Mistress tightened to squash her head in their firm grasp.
“I think you’d make a fine seat, slave,” pondered the Mistress, flexing her muscles to increase the power of the hold on Lynn’s head. “To have you sat beneath me like this, smothering you, having you worship me with your tongue for as long as I want. But do you think yourself worthy of such a privilege?”
Lynn nodded against the shorts, rubbing her nose against the tightly packed flesh. The tease of her nose brought a shudder to the Mistress.
“Well we shall see. But first, let’s see you play with your breasts. Get those nipples up for me, slave” she murmured contentedly, turning her hips to play herself against Lynn’s immersed features.
With a little trepidation, Lynn drew down the cups of her bra and revealed her breasts. They were smaller than those of the Mistress, and her own lack of self worth believed them vastly inferior in appearance. It was another coin in the treasury that proved the Mistress her superior.
Gentle touches started the erection of the teats. The swiftness was brought on by her arousal at being subdued in the rubber-armoured belly of her owner. Lynn’s eyes flickered with the first pangs of tickled delight. The caresses to her teats made her shiver in the leg lock, her buttocks squeezing to the plug, her sphincter trying to push it out. She forced it a little way forth, then dropped her efforts to have her rear gulp it back down and please herself all the more.
All the while the Mistress studied her, smiling as she erotically degraded herself, playing her breasts for the amusement of her oppressor. It was a private peep show, performed for a singular audience.
“That will do, slave,” she stated and removed her legs. Sitting upright she reached over to brush Lynn’s hands away.
Instead of her own cautious touch, Lynn had the venomous pinch of the Mistress replace her. The woman snagged each nipple between thumb and finger and crushed them mercilessly, making Lynn grimace and squeak with shock.
The Mistress started to rise, dragging Lynn up with her, elevating her by these points of mordant shock. And once they were both upright, she elevated them still higher to brin
g Lynn to tiptoe. Her breasts were strained upward, her arms flapping at her side, trying not to intervene.
The Mistress regarded Lynn’s contorted mask of endurance. Her eyes were watering as she tried to process her distress.
“Now, slave. Are you enjoying your new life?” she asked casually.
“Yes, Mistress,” she whimpered with her head flopped back and mouth agape.
“You are sure?”
“Yes, Mistress, I am. I love being your slave,” she uttered quickly.
“And you like dominating my partner?”
“I do, Mistress. I love both my roles, but I especially love being your slave, to do with as you will, Mistress,” she burbled. Her hands clenched into fists as the Mistress rolled the captured morsels between her fingers.
“So you would like to continue doing this on occasion?” wondered the Mistress. There was a definite subversive agenda lurking in the words, waiting to see what Lynn would say to determine whether or not it would let itself become known.
Lynn paused, she wanted to ask for more. She wanted to be part of this scenario for good, to drop into her role as a submissive and stay there. When she was like this, she was free of all entanglement by life. Even work would be easy because whatever stresses and strains faced her, whatever petty bigotry and subterfuge tried to hassle her, none of it would work. Office politics could be forgotten as she sat there and thought solely of her return to the Mistress. The only thing she needed to consider was pleasing and being there for her owner. What else mattered compared to that? She could face anything with blasé indifference because it was all trivial when weighed against such a vaulted devotion.
But how could she ask this? Would it be presumptuous? Would it be thought of as merely her lust talking? Would the Mistress consider them no more than rash words in the heat of the session, the squeezing of her nipples spilling this lie from her lips?
“Well, slave? You want to be part of this or not?” she repeated.
“Yes, Mistress. I do, but…”
“But…?”
“I..I..”
“Out with it, slave!” she growled, and crushed the teats with ferocity. Turning them and lifting higher she made Lynn sob and blub her words, her confession forcibly extracted by the additional harrowing that in turn fanned her depraved libido.
“I want to be yours for good. I want to be your full time slave, Mistress.”
“Really? You think you can handle that? Slave and dominatrix, all the time, never stopping and giving up your life totally?”
“Yes, Mistress, yes I can. I’d do it without hesitation,” she spat, all to willing to slough off the tedium of her existence.
Without second thought she would throw away the simpering males that clung at her like leeches. They wanted her pity and solace, all the while with ulterior motives. Namely to thrust their organs into her and violate her, debase her for no other reason than to add new notches to their belt or make her a pretty ornament to place on their arm and show off to others. The Mistress wanted to own her too, but it was for real. The Mistress wanted to care for her and look after her. It sounded the same but the difference could not have been starker, nor could her love of one variety and her loathing of the other.
“And what if I were to head back to my homelands? What if I wanted you to come with me? Be mine in a new country, take you away from this place forever and never let you return? You would never see your family again. Never see friends or people you know. You would effectively vanish. You would cease to exist here and become someone new in a different country, a place I shall dictate and you will be powerless to question or escape from it.”
“Oh, Mistress, I’d go. I’d go instantly,” she beamed. The notion of being shipped abroad to serve in a foreign realm, to be free of everything that weighed her down, to escape without word and never be heard of again so she could dwell in this fantasy for the rest of her days. How delightful that would be.
“We shall see how devoted you are to this cause. I want to make this a permanent situation here first. We shall go into character, all three of us, and we will not leave again. I shall be testing you both, and those who meet my requirements will come back with me. There you will be educated as to what it really means to be my slave. I have secrets waiting for you both, things neither of you know and if you show me you are worthy, you will learn what they are.”
The sound of footsteps on the stair reached their ears and the Mistress released her hold. Lynn sagged, holding her aching breasts. Gently placing the cups back over the contused tips she slipped back into her seat. Her mind was beset by confusion, the words the Mistress had said were rolling through her mind like a dust storm. What had she meant? What was she planning? What had she not told either of them?
Chapter Eleven
A quick shower removed the sweat of his servitude and he slid into the required briefs and hood. Mulling over his salacious slavery he marched back to them, his bare feet light as feathers now that the heels had been shed.
Mistress Despoiler was stood before her assistant, the bullwhip stored threateningly in one slender hand with a pair of padlocks in the other along with a thin leather collar. The collar was smaller than the one he wore, designed so it was less cumbersome but just as effective at restraint. Its riveted surfaces held D rings to ensnare and the suede interior would perch his head upright and to attention with pride rather than on compulsory fences of unforgiving hide.
“Kneel before me, slave,” she commanded.
Without hesitation he obeyed, his eyes fixed to her legs. As he stared at them, the latex pants had to suddenly strive to keep his suddenly growing member buried under a rubber shroud.
“We have been discussing it, slave,” declared Mistress Despoiler. “And we have agreed that we much prefer things like this. Thus, from now on, you will be a permanent slave to us. You still belong to me, but I shall allow Mistress Lynn to make use of your services as she sees fit.”
His eyes widened with shock and a deluge of contradictory emotions ran through him like a rapid river. Could he truly survive a life of genuine enslavement? Would the permanent enactment of the fantasy destroy them? Would it be possible to go back? Or would it prove so intense that they would delightfully revel in it forever? What would such a situation lead to?
She reached over and grabbed his chin, the physical emphasis to her words making them sink into his mind.
“You are no longer free. You are my slave, for good,” she decreed. The verdict found a receptive ear in his libido and although he was daunted by such a prospect, he was also intensely aroused by it.
What would this future hold? Could he endure it? So many unanswered questions filled his thoughts, and no certain answers met them.
Opening his thick collar, she removed it and transferred the identity tag to the thin leather affair. Closing it about his neck, she set the buckles and applied the padlock to seal it. The second padlock was snapped to the lowest ringlets on his hood, stopping him from opening it unless she chose to grant him freedom.
“There. You will wear these always unless I give you temporary relief,” she revealed. “Do you recall the rules that I played to you, slave?”
“Yes, Mistress Despoiler,” he replied humbly, the words still echoing in his subconscious, awaiting reinforcement before they really began to set roots into his mind.
Mistress Despoiler sauntered over to the small cabinet that bore the telephone and produced a plastic sleeve. Printed neatly on a sheet of paper within the protective sheath were the rules, next to a picture of her. She was stood provocatively in her latex attire, the pencil skirt flowing down her curves, her torso captured and armoured with the latex halter-neck top, the laces drawn tight, her eyes shadowed by the fierce hat, her arms rolled into opera gloves. It was a vision of divine fetishistic power, showing him the almighty authority that had set these rules for him to obey and live by.
It was a hard copy of her sixty-three commandments, a bible of perversity to which h
e would have to become a zealot of faith and if he slacked in his devotion, harsh penance awaited.
“Each day you will read these rules,” she decreed. Walking to the corner she used tape to set her law at waist height.
“You will kneel in the corner before these rules. You will put your hands on your knees and sit erect and to attention and you will read through them. Do you understand, slave?”
“Yes, Mistress Despoiler. I understand.”
“Good. Now sit before them and read them for five minutes, and masturbate as you do so. But do not dare climax, slave.”
With a somewhat worried shuffle he skipped over to the corner and adopted the required position - kneeling as though in prayer to the image of his deity.
As he did as he was ordered, she talked and discussed with one of her seraphim. Lynn was the arch-angel of cruelty that served her wrath, little knowing that it was more likely that she was a Lucifer, waiting to betray and corrupt, to bring chaos and disorder to heaven.
With his back to the pair, he lifted his already eager length from the confines of the briefs and began to comply. His eyes were instantly fixed to her picture, besotted and unable to move away. Keeping his rhythm slow so as to prolong his pleasure, he started to read through the list of rules. His libido flashed with new intensity as he read them, knowing that this would be his life from now on, that he was truly hers and she was enforcing her regnant upon him.
When he felt the tide of his orgasm manifesting, rising up and seeking release, egging him on, demanding that he succumb to perfidy and finish, he forced himself to stop. Not only did he deny himself because of his commands, but to be compelled to ejaculate with Mistress Lynn in the room, to have a veritable stranger observe him perform this was terribly demeaning. Lynn had already humiliated him greatly with one enforced session of masturbation and he could not bear to have it done again. Especially with Mistress Despoiler present as well.
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