“No, I didn’t know that,” Tessa said. She couldn’t mask the sarcasm in her voice. The scene minutes ago had raised her hackles as well as her sexual heat. Tessa would have given anything to have been in Martine’s place against the wall.
“Hector here did quite a job,” she said, joining the photographer at the camera, fondling his groin. “Damn, you’re hard down here, did we make you that hot?”
“I suppose, but then, Tessa already had me hard before you showed up.”
This was not a pleasant reunion—so Tessa guessed. No doubt, her roommate had used her typical ball busting tactics and he’d gotten pissed—no man could put up with her for long.
“Can I help you out?” Martine ran her hands along Hector’s pants. “Tessa hasn’t taken very good care of you.” She laughed. “But then, how could she, all locked up?”
“You like her bondage?” Miles asked. He’d returned to the room, listening to the strained babble between his house guests.
“I think it’s lovely, wish I’d thought of it.” Martine pulled away from Hector and focused her attention on Tessa. Returning to the bed, she pulled at Tessa’s straps again—just hard enough for the leather to cut into the sensitive creases of her flesh, constricting the already tight bonds even more. She tried twisting the leather in her hand.
“Stop it! Damn you!” Tessa seethed.
Miles whipped around, glaring at his insubordinate submissive.
“What was that?” he asked.
“The bitch is cutting me!” Tessa cried.
Miles moved forward and gave her ass a stinging smack. “Don’t argue with my guest.”
She could have spit in his eye, but did dare.
He snacked her again. “And wipe that look off your face or I’ll string you up like I didn’t do yesterday.”
Two pairs of eyes smoldered, just one spark away from a full-blown conflagration. Wisely, Tessa backed down, taking a deep breath and nursing the sting on her ass with the palm of her hand.
Letting go of Tessa’s straps, Martine grinned. “Quite clever. How long have they been there?”
Miles nodded for Tessa to answer.
“Almost twenty-four hours,” she replied, “except for when Hector let me go to the bathroom.”
“She looks good in them. I see you haven’t forgotten her ass.”
“And neither have you,” Miles answered. “I understand you fucked her there.”
“She should have been violated there a long time ago; it makes her more compliant, something in her spirit really takes to this kind of surrender. In the ass is so demeaning, don’t you think?”
“She seemed to enjoy it last night,” Miles agreed.
“Oh, of course she did. That’s what’s so perfect about our Tessa. The little tramp would have done anything when I shoved that dildo in her.”
Miles observed his accomplice carefully—appreciating her manipulative disposition. He had plans for Martine as the perfect Fem/dom for his slave. Their animosity sparked such desire. As long as the bitch remembered who was in control, the two would make a vintage piece of porn.
Hearing the conversation, Tessa pulled back, frightened.
“Don’t worry my dear, there’s only one person in charge here,” he assured her. “Martine is as much under my thumb as you are.”
“Yes, that’s what he thinks,” Martine purred at her lover, at which Miles pinched the bitch’s tit with a nasty twist. “Stop that!” She pulled away.
Miles chuckled, then walked to a closet where he retrieved a robe. “Here,” he said throwing it at Martine.
She put it on, while Miles slumped down in his overstuffed chair with a glass of German beer. Pulling up a creaky rocking chair, Martine joined him at his side, the two staring at the nervous submissive.
On the other side of the room, Hector was busy with the camera, for a time recording the scene—though he was far more interested in what was to follow.
Martine was an unpleasant surprise, even though he still found himself aroused by the sexy slut. Five years before, she’d been one of the most nauseating models he’d ever used. She was crass and crude—his biggest problem getting her to shut up. He didn’t see much change in her since he dumped her. But she’d be perfect for the scene Miles planned. Her heartless, glacial cunning would offset Tessa’s sensuous compliance.
“So what do you want to do to her?” Miles asked the roommate.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Martine mused. “You’ve filled her so well, it’s impressive, inspiring even. But what really inspires me are those stripes on her belly.”
“Oh?”
“You know what I’ve always wanted to do?” she went on.
“What?”
“Whip her cunt.”
Tessa cringed.
“I want to mark her right between her legs, while she’s spread wide, wield a lash against all that bastion of femininity.”
“My, you are sadistic,” Miles exclaimed.
“Maybe,” Martine considered. “It’s a compelling fantasy. Ever since I read The Story of O, when “O” is whipped by the woman while she’s tied to the pillars… I’ve always known which part I wanted to play. And Tessa? She’s been the center of that fantasy for years. What do you think of that?” Martine called to her roommate.
Tessa didn’t reply.
“What do you think of yourself being laid open, your pussy being whipped?” Miles demanded an answer.
Tessa fidgeted with the leather bindings, trying to put off her answer. She found no words to authorize such brutality on her own body, even though the idea had been one that had often appeared from out of now where in her mind. In any event, Tessa knew the arrangements had been made. The only thing she wondered… had it been a spontaneous suggestion, or had they planned it in advance? Was it a flash of inspiration, or part of a larger, devious plot?
“Answer me, Tessa,” Miles spoke sharply. His eyes were brimming with darkness—in fact, it seemed at that very moment, the lights in garret dimmed appreciably. Tessa was amazed by the strange coincidence, even though it could be easily explained, with Hector standing next to the switches on the wall adjusting the lighting.
Suddenly, there were but two lights lit, and both were glaring at Tessa, blinding her vision. She could still make out the glimmer on Miles’ face, but it was as shadowy as if he were a ghost just materializing.
“Answer me,” he repeated.
“It would be another sign of my enslavement to you,” she finally replied.
“How true,” he agreed, “but how would it make you feel to have you have your pussy whipped?”
She didn’t know. “I imagine it would excite me.”
“Eventually,” Miles said, “and before that?”
Tessa’s eyes flashed angrily as she felt his words prodding at her for something more. “It would make me scream in agony,” she blurted out, “is that what you want me to say?”
“I only want you to admit the truth.”
“If you want me in agony now, be assured I’m there.”
“And no doubt wet between your legs,” Martine guessed.
“No doubt,” Tessa snapped at her.
“And, if it’s Martine that wields the lash against your pussy…” Miles asked.
“I’d hate it,” she quipped almost before Miles finished the question.
He smiled. “That’s good. This way—with Martine brandishing the implement—you won’t have the advantage of some affection getting in the way.”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t,” Tessa declared.
“You two must think I’m a totally ruthless bitch,” Martine objected, though her objection was only in fun. She had every intention of being rough on her roommate; to have free reign with the little tramp was a dream come true.
Miles took Martine’s hand in his, affectionately stroking the skin. “Your temperament is perfect for what I have in mind. It’s perfect for what Tessa needs. I told her I’d give her trip down the wicked path of he
r nasty passions—that’s exactly what I intend to do.”
Martine admired him. Though she didn’t like admiring any man, this one was so much like herself that she couldn’t help it. One day, she’d hate him, probably because he’d choose Tessa over her, but she was used to that. Martine didn’t want men the way most women do. She wanted challenge, a good contest, risk, intrigue—and Bryce was certainly giving her that.
“Besides, this is going to be one helluva video tape,” Miles continued. “I know several collectors and dealers who will pay dearly to own it. Each little jerk of the female cunt in abject pain makes some dicks crazy.”
“Then I’ll really make the lash sizzle, Sir.” Martine’s voice darkened like her dark eyes, into something of a sexy growl. She was ready to begin.
Cowering on the bed, Tessa wanted to run. She was nothing in their eyes—just flesh, limbs, cunt, nothing more. A body to be used. That was Hector’s word. Used like a whore. Was she just an unpaid commodity for Miles’ use, to pad his bank account and impress his friends?
Tessa fumed. The straps of the dildo device cut more keenly into her skin. All the pulling and the posing made the device uncomfortable. And, there was that ever-present gnawing sensation in her belly—lust, desire, body-hunger. She hated that fact.
“God, if they’d only get on with it,” she brooded to herself. “Do anything you want with me, just do it!” she wanted to scream. Her body crawled with anxiety, was prickly hot with sexual energy rolling through the deepest recesses with nowhere to go.
And still, she had no voice, no permission to speak. She waited, looking a bit like a little trapped animal, a gentle, anxious lamb awaiting the claw of a lion to strike her down.
***
Miles pulled Tessa to her feet, turned her around and unfastened the lock that held her bonds. Releasing the dildos, she almost flooded the floor with pee.
“Go the bathroom and clean yourself, quickly,” he ordered. Tessa padded off, feeling even more naked without the rods and straps.
She felt oddly empty. Relieving herself, she realized the same noxious passions that were igniting her all day long were returning with a fierce zeal. Her mind was consumed by what would happen next. The whip. Martine. Her pussy flogged like “O”, in that classic tale of surrender. Could she handle it as well as that fictional submissive? Tessa finished her brief bathing and returned to the room feeling scared, fretful and curiously stirred.
“You look frightened,” Martine oiled her way to Tessa’s side with a snide smirk on her face, to which Tessa remained mute. “Oh, you are good, so docile, so calm before what you face.” Shrugging off the silence submissive, Martine turned to Miles. “Just one small thing before we begin.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“I’d like her pussy shaved.” The woman looked down at the silky hair covering Tessa’s sexual triangle, and gloated triumphantly.
“She’ll be more vulnerable to the pain that way,” Miles agreed. “With no protection, that pretty cunt will be as striped as her belly and ass.”
“That’s the idea.” Martine was utterly without compassion, as the very worst of her sexual nature blossomed before all their eyes.
“She’s your slave now, Martine,” Miles said, “do what you want with her.”
“You have a razor?
“With a fresh blade.”
Reaching out the petulant woman took Tessa’s pussy hair in her fist and yanked.
“Ouch!”
Martine slapped her face. “Take care of it slut. The more naked you are, the more it will hurt, the more you’ll get the message that you’re nothing but a slutty, slavey whore.”
Tessa’s eyes spat out enmity so deep that even Miles shuddered. “Do what you’re told,” he shot out in an icy voice.
Without another word, Tessa turned away from the watchful eyes and trotted to the bathroom.
“Hurry up, slut!” Martine called, just to annoy her.
She had spoken with Miles about shaving her pussy—thinking the act would be a dutiful gesture of surrender, another milestone in her training, a ritual performed lovingly for him. But now the act seemed tarnished and all the pretty pictures vanished.
“Don’t take too long,” she heard Martine’s voice again.
Tessa grabbed the razor from the medicine cabinet and splashed warm water against her crotch. Applying a generous amount of shaving cream, she began a hurried excursion about her pussy with the fresh razor blade. It didn’t take long to have the obvious hair removed as the razor cut each lock away, and she could see more of her bare skin beneath. She didn’t stop with the outer hair, but opened wide her pussy lips and ran the razor along the tender flesh on either side of her clit. Then bending over, she reached back even further still, shaving away the hair from her entire cleft, to the few remaining wisps around her rear hole.
As the hair disappeared, she felt the soft flesh remaining, finding the experience peculiarly arousing. But suddenly hearing Martine’s raspy voice bark, Tessa stopped, splashed herself with warm water, and watched in the mirror as the shaving cream disappeared to reveal her naked mound. The opening between her labia looked so childlike and innocent, even though the purpose for it was not. But she had only seconds to wonder what horror would greet her before she was compelled to move on. Shivering from head to toe as she replaced the razor in the cabinet, she returned to the others, blushing.
“Ooo my, how nice,” Martine purred, as she admired the clean, bare skin, running her hand along the smooth flesh. She pried Tessa’s labia apart, feeling softness from her vagina to her asshole, impressed by how well Tessa had completed the task. Sticking her finger into Tessa’s cunt, she pulled out the soaked digit and presented it to the submissive’s mouth. “Lick it slut.”
Tessa recognized the musky smell of her own sex.
“If I were you, Miles, I wouldn’t let her grow it back,” Martine said smiling, with a trace of affection in her voice. Then quickly dispensing with the niceties, she moved on. “Let’s get on with it, my arm is getting itchy for a little battle.”
Miles led his compliant submissive to the large wardrobe at the side of the room, while Martine moved off to one corner behind an Oriental screen where she would change clothes into something suitable for the scene.
Opening the wardrobe, Miles revealed a closet full of lacy lingerie, costumes and exotic looking dresses. “Let’s see—we need something soft and sensuously submissive.” As he rummaged through the closet, he looked at several things, then went on to others, apparently searching for something in particular. Gazing at all the finery, Tessa wondered who had worn these interesting garments and how had Miles come to collect such a selection of women’s clothes? These were nothing like the things that he’d wanted her to wear for him; at least not until now.
What he finally pulled out was an old fashioned corset made of mauve-colored satin—the color of her skin between her labia—trimmed with black lace. Tessa looked at corset warily, thinking how she’d expected some nasty leather piece, instead of this more traditional symbol of submission. A whimsical expression flashed across her face. “Reminds me of something a harlot would wear in a brothel,” she quaked with delight.
“Then it’s very fitting,” Miles replied.
“And just think, I’ll look so pretty with the lace, matching the stripes on my privates,” she added with a surprising degree of sarcasm—aimed more specifically at Martine.
“Don’t get testy. You wouldn’t want me to punish you now,” Miles warned. “That would only double your agony tonight.”
She answered with a sassy pout, but said no more, as Miles pushed her toward the mirror. “Put it on.”
Tessa padded to the full-length mirror and began to dress.
“Hector,” Miles called to the photographer, “start filming.”
Tessa’s first look in the mirror was a shock. She’d almost forgotten her shaved pussy, and for several moments, she just stared in wonder, thinking how virtuous she looked
without the symbol of her womanhood, the silky hairs that glistened with her female dew. But there was more than just this first impression—a strange seductive quality appeared before her, as if her body was winking at her naughtily, reminding her of its feminine power. The message was mixed, but the eroticism potent, and the pleasant reverie almost made her forget her anger.
The corset fit perfectly around her waist, as if Miles had it designed expressly for her. Heavy metal stays held her torso firmly in place, and it was joined at the back with crisscrossing laces. As Tessa closed the hooks in front, she could feel the growing constriction.
“Needs to be tighter, love,” Miles said as he came up behind her and grabbing the laces firmly gave them a hearty yank.
“Yikes! I can’t breath,” she cried.
“Relax, of course you can,” he said gently. He pulled on the ribbons with a steady tug, until they were so tight she thought she would surely burst. “It will take some time to get used to, but I think you’ll like the effect. Now look at yourself.”
Tessa turned back to the mirror, blushing as the image of Scarlett O’Hara came to mind—that sassy tart pulling herself into a tiny-waisted ball gown. The hourglass of her own design was breathtaking to behold. The unsuspecting submissive was instantly transported into another time and place, that Victorian era of cruel discipline, and high-spirited antics of schoolgirl like erotic trainings. She had a dozen books of such adventures hidden under her mattress, for lonely nights by herself with her loins on fire and her imagination flying.
Seeing her breasts spill over the edges of the corset, she viewed herself as the voluptuous innocent, being instructed and disciplined in the fine art of submissive behavior. Seeing her hips swell at the bottom of the garment, and her cunt framed by the dangling garters, she knew how it might feel to be the pure young maiden, about to be raped by a cruel but deliciously inventive, wizened patriarch—and his accomplices. It was proving to be a fun excursion into fantasyland, if the reality of the moment hadn’t descended on her.
“Here, your stockings,” Miles said.
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