CFNM Revenge Tales

by AJ Gray

  “Now,” said Rosie looking around her. “Where’s that leash?”

  Political Power Play

  *****

  The career of Conrad Jenkins was on a sharp, upward, trajectory. As a senior politician in his early forties, he had reached the top echelons of political life, the inner circle as the media liked to coin it. He was man who kept to the shadows, yet his decisions had the power to influence millions, and didn’t he know it. Those beneath him in the food chain definitely did as they tip toed around him, cowering to his demands.

  To them he was a man who exuded a strong, powerful authority, and was not to be crossed. In short many considered him someone destined for even greater things, whether they liked it or not.

  Appearances can be deceptive, however, and when the layers were peeled back Mr Jenkins had a very surprising delectation, very surprising indeed given the pillar of power he portrayed himself to be. You see once a fortnight, every Thursday evening without fail, he would visit a lady by the name of Amber Steel.

  Miss steel a flame haired women, in her twenties wasn’t your old fashioned mistress. No, not at all, she was a woman firmly of the twenty first century, quite unlike the meek, servile mistresses, of generations past, whose bodies were used purely for the sexual gratification of paying customers.

  You see Miss Steel would spank, whip or beat Mr Jenkins, depending on whatever mood took her. Whether it was the loss of control that got him off, who knows. What was certain was that he got an almighty kick out of it. Certainly enough of one to put his ruthless ambitions in jeopardy, for if anyone was to get wind of these secret meetings, he would not only be utterly humiliated, but his career would lie in tatters.

  Unfortunately for Mr Jenkins he’d developed some very serious enemies who regarded him as a spineless, corrupt, heartless individual. They weren’t far wrong. The most feisty and garrulous of them was none other than an opposing politician by the name of Carla La Verne. Ms La Verne had become irritated in the extreme not only at the policies Mr Jenkins had overseen, but also at his snooty and disdainful character.

  When he introduced a new set of tax hikes that promised to have a severe and detrimental impact on the hard working people she represented, she decided enough was enough. There was no way she was standing for this, from a man born into privilege, who’d had doors literally and metaphorically opened for him his entire life. As one of the few people who had the guts and determination to take him on, resourceful Carla, decided to do a little digging. It wasn’t long before she learned of Mr Jenkins secret hobby, if you can call it that.

  She was ready to even a few scores.

  The following Thursday Mr Jenkins left the jaded palace of powers from which he worked, leaving any unfinished tasks to his hard pressed underlings. In his chauffer driven Mercedes, he headed for his usual appointment with Miss Steel. Through the blacked out windows he could see people scurrying about their business, ‘damn fools,’ he muttered to himself, viewing them as blind rats, intent on satiating whatever ambition or sinful desire that popped up into their little heads. He shook his head, if only they knew how worthless, how futile their existence was, just small cogs in a ceaseless, overarching machine.

  He quickly put such thoughts to the back of his mind, however, their problems aren’t mine after all. As the car crept along he felt a tingle of excitement, wondering what punishments she had in store for him today. Rounding a corner onto a suburban tree lined street he told the driver to pull over. He’d approach on foot, as usual always conscious not to draw attention to himself, always wary of prying eyes.

  The house itself was a respectable detached Victorian semi, in a desirable part of town no less. From the outside there was no indication of the somewhat sordid goings on that occurred. Mr Jenkins descended the steps to the basement apartment from which Miss Steel worked. Having buzzed and identified himself the door unlocked, enabling him to enter.

  Following his usual routine, he undressed in the small closet sized room by the door, folded his clothes nice and tidily, before making his way along the narrow corridor and into the padded red room, from which Miss Steel conducted her sessions. Here, in just his white boxers, he knelt on the light wooden floorboards and awaited his mistress’s arrival.

  Just as his knees were beginning to feel sore, he heard the clicking of heels. Miss Steel. She entered looking every inch the femme fatale, dressed in a tight black leather corset, and a matching short skirt and spiky heeled boots. Fishnet tights covered her slender legs, and a green bow was tied between her pert, porcelain breasts. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw Mr Jenkins. Today he was in for a big surprise.

  “Up,” she said, commanding him to stand in her unmistakably Russian accent.

  Mr Jenkins did as he was told.

  “Scoot back to the wall.”

  Again he did as ordered, anyone who knew him by his public persona would have been astonished by his subservience. Connected to the wall was a metal frame in the shape of an ‘X.’

  “Spread your legs and raise your arms for mistress.”

  Miss Steel proceeded to pull leather straps around his waist and thighs and lock his wrists and ankles into cuffs attached to the metal frame. When she’d finished, she stood back to admire her handiwork. Mr Jenkins stood spread eagled, in the same X position as the structure to which he was attached. He was going nowhere, no matter how much he struggled or protested. The finishing touch was a blind-fold.

  “No peeking for you,” she said, coquettishly covering his eyes.

  Having followed the directions she’d been given, Miss Steel left the room. Mr Jenkins assumed it was all part of the game, all part of the teasing, showing him who was boss, making him wait. He pushed lightly against his restraints testing them. They didn’t budge an inch. He didn’t feel any distress, however, quite the opposite. Despite the bonds he felt extreme relaxation, a meditative tranquillity overcame him as he accepted his complete and utter loss of control.

  The room was warm, comfortable and noiseless. His senses felt heightened in the darkness of the blind-fold. Feeling an itch on his noise, he tried to rub it unsuccessfully against his shoulder, but stopped as the silence was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps.

  They entered the room and stopped in front of him for a moment, before coming closer. He felt warm breath, the smell of perfume, which he inhaled enjoying the soft scent of lavender. He imagined Miss Steel’s ample breasts and what wicked punishments she had planned. He felt a hand on his chest and then a painful tug as a single hair was plucked from his chest.

  The hand moved up to his face, a finger tapped his nose, before moving towards the blindfold. As it was removed and his eyes blinked adjusting to the light, they widened in shock. Standing before him, holding the blind-fold was none other than Ms Carla La Verne, his political opponent, arch enemy and soon to be bête noire.

  She looked professional, dressed immaculately in a crisp white shirt, smart black skirt, sheer black tights and polished shiny black heels. Her outfit contrasted sharply with that of the normally powerful Mr Jenkins, who looked ridiculous chained in just his white underpants.

  “What’s the meaning of this, what are you doing here, this is outrageous,” his words stumbled out, over one another as he looked at her gobsmacked.

  She held a finger to his lips.

  “Shhh, that’s enough talking for now.”

  Her voice was smooth, silky, with a husky intonation.

  She stepped back slightly and withdrew a pair of silver scissors from behind her back, raising an eyebrow as she ran a finger along its sharp edge.

  “What am I to do with you Conrad, what am I to do?”

  Mr Jenkins looked at her in shocked bewilderment, before violently rattling the metal structure he was cuffed to. Just as before his bonds didn’t budge an inch.

  “Get me off this infernal thing,” he shouted enraged, demanding to be let lose.

  He looked at her seething, his breathing had become heavy, his face
a furious red.

  “All in good time, all in good time,” she said unfazed, ignoring his complaints. “First I have a few demands.”

  She stepped forward, scissors in hand.

  “Keep still,” she said, running the sharp blade gently against his chest. “I wouldn’t want there to be any accidents."

  He winced feeling the cold steel against his soft, bare, skin. Much to his horror she went lower, running the metal gently over his cotton boxers.

  “Nice pants,” she said, snapping the waistband. “Lets see what’s underneath shall we.”

  She looked him in the eye as he squirmed before her, panting, trying in earnest to move his body away from her. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, he was gasping in stunned panic like a stranded fish out of water. He almost felt like he was losing consciousness.

  Carla proceeded to crisply cut both sides of his boxers, removing them fully with one gentle tug. She exposed his dangling little penis, his disproportionally large, low hanging balls.

  “Looks like you’ll be going commando,” she said, tossing his pants aside dismissively.

  He looked at her speechless, mouth still agape.

  She stood before him, one knee bent, arms folded, with an amused grin as her gaze drifted downwards.

  “What do you want?” he asked glumly, regaining some composure.

  “Now that is the question.” She tapped her lips, in no hurry. “Hmmm, what do I want, maybe just some fun or maybe for you and your cronies in government to stop making people’s lives miserable. I’ve had enough of your smug, arrogant, self-satisfied style of doing things. I expect you to follow my orders from now on.”

  “Hah,” he said, shaking his head. “Not in your lifetime.”

  “I don’t think you understand me Conrad,” she said, moving forward holding his head still by his chin. “This is non negotiable, and in any case I don’t think you’re in much of a position to negotiate. Do you?”

  He scornfully looked away. She let go and turned to her left, surveying a row of hooks and a metal shelf. They contained whips, clamps and various bondage regalia that looked like medieval instruments of torture.

  “First things first though, time for that fun.”

  He could only watch as she extracted a riding crop from a hook and turned towards him with a wicked smile.

  Ms La Verne held the crop behind her back, poised ready to strike. As she swung Conrad flinched, wincing in anticipation, his eyes tightly knitted shut. She stopped at the last moment, a whisker away from striking his cheek.

  “I’ve had enough of you sauntering about like you’re the King of England,” she said, running its leather tip over his face, ‘From now on you’ll be doing as I say. Understand?”

  He was silent, glaring at her with narrowed eyes as he weighed up his limited options.

  “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” she continued, running the leather tip over his lips, down his neck, chest and stomach.

  She stopped in surprise noticing his stiff little penis. It was a clear and undeniable signal of his arousal.

  “My Conrad you really do enjoy this, how very interesting, how very interesting indeed. If I’d known you liked being so submissive, I’d of had you under my control far sooner.”

  He dropped his head in shame, unable to look her in the eye. For once he couldn’t bluff or lie his way out of a situation.

  “You know a man like you should be very careful. For if these little visits of yours were to come out, so to say, you’d be in quite a pickle.”

  “You wouldn’t,” he said looking at her nervously.

  “Wouldn’t I?”

  She paused enjoying his discomfort.

  “I mean what would your colleagues make of this,” she said, giving his sensitive bellend a short, sharp, smack.

  “Or that lovely devoted wife of yours,” she continued, smacking it a second time.

  “And those kids of yours, think of their horror when they grow up and learn daddy lost everything because he liked to be humiliated.”

  She finished with three further, well placed smacks of the crop. Each went through him like a painful jolt of electricity.

  “Please!” he begged, cracking as any composure he’d managed to maintain deserted him entirely. “I’ll do anything, just don’t tell anyone,” he pleaded.

  “As if I’d be so mean,” she said returning the crop to its hook, before delivering her fatal blow, her coup de grace.

  “Aren’t phones wonderful things, they perform so many functions nowadays,” she said, retrieving hers from a pocket and holding it up.

  “A little insurance to ensure you follow my orders. Smile.”

  She took several snaps of the hard, helpless politician. From every conceivable angle it felt to the stricken Mr Jenkins.

  “Very nice,” she said laughing, as she looked them over.

  “Satisfied?” he asked tetchily. “Just get me off this thing.”

  “I don’t think so. I believe you’ve got an appointment with a certain Miss Steel.”

  He bit his lip, preventing himself from letting out a series of expletives that he might later regret. Carla returned his blind-fold, and felt a burst of satisfaction as she looked at the practically neutered politician.

  “I’ll be contacting you soon,” she said, stroking the underside of his chin, whispering in his ear: “You’ll very much be my puppet for the foreseeable future.”

  She cupped his balls firmly in the palm of her hand, as one final token of her newly acquired power.

  “Remember I own you,” she said, squeezing, just enough to make him gasp.

  Those were her final words. She left him as she’d found him, tied up and unsighted, the only difference being his shredded pants, his still hard prick. On her way out in the narrow corridor, she pulled out a thick wad of cash and handed it to Miss Steel.

  “Don’t hold back now, treat him as mean as you can. I want the full works.”

  “With pleasure,” replied the young domme with a devilish grin.

  The two ladies went their separate ways with a bounce in both their steps, it had been a productive day. As for Mr Jenkins, well, lets just say it would be more than a few weeks before he’d be able to sit down in any comfort. Of course by then he was well and truly under the command of a rising star in the political game, a certain woman by the name of Ms Carla La Verne.

  Adam’s Office Adventures

  *****

  Part One

  A New Product

  Adam sat at the centre of the large rectangular table, located on the third floor of the tall, shiny, modern office block, in which he worked. He looked around the room. It was generally used for meetings and the odd brainstorming workshop. Was modest, with minimalist décor and windowless except for one wall to his right, which was covered from floor to ceiling in glass panels. He ran a hand through his dark hair as he peered at his reflection in the black façade.

  At six foot three, square-jawed, muscular, twenty-eight year old Adam wasn’t short on confidence. He gave himself a little wink and smile liking what he saw, not at all surprised by the lack of activity. It was a Saturday afternoon, like most of the building it was empty, the staff would be off enjoying the warm weather outside.

  It was Laura, his work colleague who had urged him to come in. Said there was a new product in the offing, a major deal that could be tied up if they moved quickly. Sounded good by him, meant he just had to give the go ahead. Would allow him to wrap things up in half an hour or so, and take any plaudits that came his way.

  Silly Laura, always doing the hard work, like all women she was so easy to exploit, he thought contentedly. This was going to be a breeze. He leant back, rested his feet on table and relaxed to the gentle hum of the air conditioning.

  Life was sweet, he’d been at the company less than two years, yet leapfrogged many of his female colleagues who’d put in far more effort, worked far more hours. He regarded them as dumb and dim-witted, rather nice eye cand
y to have around. Just as he fell into a light torpor he heard the clicking of heels.

  There was a knock at the door and Laura entered dressed smartly in office attire, navy skirt, silk blouse, and sheer black tights. She was in her early thirties, with wavy chestnut brown hair, a pretty but slightly upturned nose. Adam thought it suited her haughty manner. To him, she was the sort of girl who must have always got straight A’s, never done anything risqué or dangerous in her entire life. If only he knew.

  Laura looked at Adam, even the way he sat looked cocky. She considered him obnoxious and arrogant. Yes he was handsome, but he was also rude and disrespectful. Worst of all was his deceitful habit of taking credit for projects she’d worked hard on, his contribution being close to zero. It was time for her to reassert some control, teach Adam, here, who was in charge.

  Following Laura was Susanna, whom Adam had never met. She was a medical professional with muddy blond hair tied back in a ponytail, wore glasses and a tight pink shirt, above a short grey skirt. The two women were not just slender and attractive they were also intelligent. They knew how to get men to do what they wanted, as Adam was about to find out.

  They sat down either side of him. Their aroma was soft and warm with a hint of summer fruits. Adam glanced left, then right, noticing their short skirts, their crossed legs. Finding something incredibly sexy about the contours created.

  “So what’s the new product you brought me in here for?” he asked sounding impatient.

  “A new gel, which improves a males stamina, boosts their virility,” replied Laura matter-of-factly.

  She’d decided short brisk answers were the way to go. It wouldn’t allow him to consider things too deeply, not let him back out.

  “Oh yeah, how, in what way?”

  “I’d hope you’d asked that.”

  Laura nodded to Susanna, who took a clear jar from her bag and placed it on the table. The gel inside was almost transparent.