The Dominatrix

by Becky Bell

  'It's all right; I'm feeling mellow tonight.'

  Angela could see that Gloria was already working herself against the strap and the peculiar object it contained, grinding her hips in a circular movement, pushing her pubis out against the leather.

  Paula came over to the bed. She stripped off her black chiffon wrap and kicked off her shoes.

  'Now it's our turn,' she said. 'Are you still in the mood?'

  'What is that thing?'

  'You'll see.'

  Paula knelt on the bed beside her, her big thighs banded by the tops of the black stockings. She leant forward and kissed Angela on the lips, her hand snaking behind her back to the clip of the bra. She undid it expertly with one hand, then pulled the bra cups away with the other.

  'I'm really randy, now,' she whispered.

  'Me too,' Angela agreed.

  They slipped back onto the bed, embracing each other as they renewed their kiss, Paula's tongue plunging into Angela's mouth. Their bodies were crushed together, the nylon of their stockings rasping as their legs intertwined. Angela felt her breasts being crushed by the leather bra of the basque, while Paula's thigh slid up between her legs and flattened itself against her labia. She could feel her own juices leaking onto Paula's flesh.

  'Lovely,' she said, catching her breath.

  Paula was reaching across the bed for something. It was jammed between the wall and the mattress.

  'What are you doing?'

  Her hand emerged, holding a long orange tube made from rubber, each end fashioned crudely to resemble the glans of an erect penis. She had obviously hidden it there earlier. 'Another new experience to add to your growing collection,' Paula said.

  Angela stared at it, feeling her sex pulse strongly. It was pretty obvious what the double dildo was for.

  Paula rolled onto her back. She spread her legs apart and stuck one end of the dildo into her vagina. Fascinated, Angela watched as half its length disappeared between Paula's labia. She glanced up at Gloria, who was watching avidly too.

  'Now I've got a cock,' Paula said.

  'Then perhaps you'd better fuck me.' The idea of being penetrated by the dildo was creating waves of arousal in Angela - not that she wasn't already incredibly excited. She had hoped the evening might end in Paula's bed, but she had not expected anything as bizarre and outrageous as this.

  Angela lay back and spread her legs apart, her hand snaking down to her sex to stroke her clitoris. She saw Gloria's eyes following this movement hungrily, her body still squirming against the strap.

  Paula rolled over on top of her, the dildo projecting from her sex. She used her hand to position it at the mouth of Angela's vagina, then pushed forward. Angela was so wet that the penetration was frictionless, the big dildo sliding up into her buttery cunt.

  'Oh, God,' she gasped, feeling a wave of pleasure.

  This was a totally new sensation. Not only was the dildo filling her vagina, but she could feel Paula's hot sticky labia butting against her own as she thrust her hips forward. It was delicious.

  Paula bucked her hips like a man, gripping the dildo with her own vagina so she could pull it back out of Angela, then plunging it forward again.

  Angela tried to get her hand between their bodies, pulling at the bra cup of the basque to get at Paula's big breast. She managed to pull the cup down and sink her fingers into the pliant flesh, pinching hard at her nipple.

  'Like this now,' Paula said. With the dildo still buried in both their sexes, she rolled them onto their sides, then began worming backward, sliding one leg under Angela's body and the other over the top. Soon their heads were at opposite ends of the bed and their legs were splayed apart, their sexes crushed together at the apex of their thighs. Paula then took both of Angela's hands in hers, interlacing their fingers, and tugged her forward sharply. This had the effect of forcing their sexes even closer together and burying the dildo deeper simultaneously in both of them. As a result, both felt a huge surge of sensation.

  'What are you doing to me?' Angela gasped. 'That's wonderful.' It was. Not only was the dildo impaled in her body, spreading her labia apart, but her clitoris was hard up against Paula's, the two little buttons of nerves pulsing wildly. Just by rotating her body gently, Paula could make their clits slide and slither against each other, producing a whole range of new sensations; while at exactly the same time the dildoes moved subtly in their vaginas.

  Angela moaned loudly. She had never felt anything like this. Already her orgasm was beginning to blossom. There were no huge pumping movements, just tiny little thrills, but they were enough to create massive waves of sensation. What was more, everything Paula was feeling, every jolt and pulse of her clitoris, was communicated directly to Angela and vice versa, so the two were climbing the same mountain, at the same rapid speed, their fingers locked together, their arms rigid and straight, determined to hold themselves exactly where they were.

  Angela saw Gloria staring at them, and it was the look in her eyes, the total but helpless lust that made her come. But she didn't come once. As her orgasm exploded she felt, seconds later, Paula come too, her clitoris throbbing violently. This feeling, so close to her own clit that it was difficult to distinguish the two, made her come again. They seemed to be suspended like that for a long time; even the aftermath of orgasm, the little tremors and tiny thrills of pleasure that would just not go away, felt acute, tossed - like a storm trapped in a valley - endlessly between them.

  Eventually, it ended. They allowed their fingers to unlace and their legs to separate.

  'What about her?' Angela said, looking at Gloria. The woman was sweating now, sweat running down her cheeks to join the saliva that escaped the gag and drip onto her breasts. Her whole body was strained and every muscle, tendon and sinew aching, Angela was sure, for release that she had obviously not been able to achieve.

  Paula rolled over lazily and picked up a small black box that was sitting on the floor by the leg of the bed. She pointed it at Gloria and pressed the single button on the box. Immediately a loud humming filled the air. Gloria reacted as if she had been plugged into an electric current. She stood on the toes of the yellow high heels, and pulled her arms against the metal cuffs, her mouth opening so wide the bit gag sagged over her bottom lip. Clearly the object Paula had strapped to her sex was vibrating, its shape ensuring the vibrations were hard against her clit.

  Suddenly she made an odd keening sound; her body shuddered violently twice in quick succession and her eyes were forced closed, her face creased into a rictus of absolute ecstasy. She threw her head back, thrust herself out against the bonds, as if trying to pull herself off the wall, then slumped forward, every muscle relaxed - so relaxed, in fact, that if it hadn't been for the chains, she would have fallen to the floor.

  Paula pressed the button on the little box. The humming stopped.

  'I need a drink,' Angela said. Watching Gloria's climax had made her own body throb with arousal again.

  'Good idea. Go and get a bottle and bring it up here.'

  'What about her?'

  Gloria opened her eyes.

  'Oh, we haven't finished with her yet.' Paula unstrapped the gag and pulled it out of her mouth. 'Have we, Gloria?'

  'No, mistress. Not yet.'

  Chapter Seven

  The stairs were narrow, rickety and worn. They were carpeted down the centre of each step with a threadbare carpet that had once been pink. The walls too might have once been a rose colour, but were now faded and dirty. The whole stairwell smelt strongly of soap and men's cologne, the scents drifting up from the barber's shop on the ground floor.

  Angela climbed the dog-leg staircase to the third floor. There was a relatively new plastic sign on the plain and battered door in front of her: BODY MATTERS. The door had two large mortise locks. She rang the doorbell on the right hand side of the doorjamb and waited.

  A moment later, an eye appeared in the peephole in the centre of the door.

  'Yes?'

  'Angela Strick
land. I have an appointment with Mrs Beatty.'

  Angela heard the keys being ground in the locks.

  A short, chubby woman opened the door. She was in her early fifties and was dressed entirely in black: black leggings and a voluminous black cowl-necked sweater. Her hair was frizzy and dyed a yellowy-orange.

  'Come in, come in. Sorry about the precautions, but we have to be a bit careful. There's a lot of nutters out there. I'm Mrs Beatty. Paula told me all about you.'

  Angela shook Mrs Beatty's proffered hand and walked through the door.

  There was a short corridor which opened into a large studio, the whole space cluttered with the accoutrements of a clothes-maker, swatches of material hanging from hooks on the wall, reams of satin and silk and lace and leather stacked in the corners and two huge cutting benches, as well as industrial sewing-machines, a drawing table and six or seven wooden dressmaker's models, standing like storks on spindly single legs. The large windows overlooked the roofs of Soho. Designs, big poster-sized drawings, were pinned to every wall. They all featured lingerie, bras, suspender belts, panties and a whole variety of corsets: some fairly conventional, some more outrageous and others positively obscene. Several of the designs featured black leather straps and looked more like bondage harnesses than underwear.

  There were three girls working in the room, two on the sewing machines and one cutting out a pattern on one of the large wooden tables. They were all Asian and, Angela guessed from their appearance, probably from the Philippines.

  'So let me look at you,' Mrs Beatty said. She took Angela's hand and made her do a twirl. 'Lovely, quite lovely. It's going to be a pleasure fitting you.'

  'Did Paula explain what I wanted?'

  'Naturally. It's basically what we do for all the girls. Let me show you a few of our basic designs. The thing to do is to choose the sort of things you want in terms of shape, then we can talk about colours and materials later. You'll need leather, of course. Are you going to do rubber, too?'

  'Rubber?'

  'We make rubber stockings, corsets, bras, panties, leggings and full catsuits. Paula's probably shown you some of hers. Then, of course, we do sizes for the men.'

  'Oh, ah, I'm not... I think you've misunderstood. This is for my personal use, not for...'

  'Business.'

  'Exactly.'

  'Oh, I see. Sorry; I assumed, since you were a friend of Paula's, you were in the same business as her.'

  Angela wasn't sure how to explain about Gregory. 'No,' she said. 'It's just that I have a friend who...'

  'Say no more. I understand completely. We have a number of customers like you. Wives and mistresses. Let's get you measured up first, then I'll show you the designs.'

  Mrs Beatty led Angela over to a screened-off area in the corner of the room. Behind it was a moveable tubular metal clothes rack on large metal castors, loaded with wire clothes hangers and a cheval mirror.

  'Take all your clothes off, will you?' Mrs Beatty said. 'I'll be back in a minute.' She walked back into the main studio.

  Angela unbuttoned her shirt-waister and hung it on one of the hangers. She was wearing a white slip and matching white panties, a bra and tights. She slipped the white slip off and hung that up too.

  'You'll need to take your bra and knickers off too, dear,' Mrs Beatty said, looking at her body critically. She was carrying what looked like a full-length cream corset, with long laces hanging from the back. 'We use this instead of measuring up. It's a great deal more accurate.'

  Angela unclipped her bra, then pulled down her panties, though she didn't understand the necessity for the latter.

  'You really are a pretty girl,' Mrs Beatty said, eyeing her body appreciatively. 'Now step into this.'

  She held the corset out at knee-level. Angela stepped into it and allowed Mrs Beatty to pull it up her body. The woman adjusted the thick shoulder straps so the bra fitted tightly around Angela's breasts, then turned her round and began pulling the laces tight. 'It has to be tight,' she said. 'Tight enough to make it a little difficult to breathe.'

  Angela felt the corset tightening around her body. She felt a little throb of excitement emanating from her sex.

  'Like that, I think,' she said, as the boning bit into her waist. 'Yes, that looks right.' Mrs Beatty tied off the laces. 'Turn round.'

  Angela did a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn while Mrs Beatty smoothed her hands around her waist.

  'Yes, that's perfect. A little adjustment here.' Her fingers pulled the full bra cups tighter over Angela's breasts. Then she took a little tin of pins from the pocket of her leggings and began pinning them around the bra cups. It took her seven or eight minutes before she was satisfied. 'That should do it. Now one other measurement. Open your legs nice and wide.' There was a gusset hanging down from the back of the corset. As Angela spread her legs apart, the transparent nylon of the tights not hiding her sex, Mrs Beatty reached through and took hold of the tail of material. She pulled it up tightly between Angela's legs, then pinned it to the front of the corset.

  'Good; that should be it. We can make everything from this: bras, panties, suspender belts and any shape of corset.'

  There was a long zip at the front of the garment which Mrs Beatty now pulled down, carefully peeling it off so as not to disturb any of the pins.

  'Now I'll get you the designs. What sort of things are you thinking of? Soft and silky, or something more severe?'

  'Severe. Like Paula, I guess.'

  'Right. That's what he's into, is it?'

  Angela didn't like to mention that was what she was into, as well.

  'You'll want leather mostly then, and satin. Satin is very domineering in black and red. Basques and waspies, obviously. And you'll need to look at our range of leather bondage harnesses. We make it all ourselves from the finest quality leather. I designed a lot of them myself. Actually, it was my husband Marty who got me started in this business. He's like your friend, I imagine. Likes to be under my heel. So I test all the new stuff on him.'

  She hurried away, carrying the corset with her. Angela heard her talking to one of the girls.

  Angela dressed again and stepped out from behind the screen.

  'Right, this way.'

  Mrs Beatty took her arm and led her towards a door at the far end of the studio. She opened it. The room beyond was like a long, rather wide corridor. On each side of it were mannequins, dressed in a selection of lingerie like the items Angela had seen in the drawings. There were scarlet basques in satin, leather corsets with a quarter-cup bra, boned waspies with long ruched suspenders, and complicated arrangements of leather straps and looping metal chains which banded the body without covering either breasts or genitals. There were much more subtle items too: beautifully cut bras and panties in tulle, edged in satin; tight lacy bodies; and floating, translucent slips and baby-dolls that revealed a great deal more than they covered up.

  Mrs Beatty pointed out several items that she thought would interest Angela and made a note on a clipboard of the ones that she wanted. They discussed colour and materials.

  'Now, would you like me to show you the bondage gear?' she asked.

  It had been a month since Angela had told Gregory that she was going to accept his offer. She had found a flat in Notting Hill Gate, right round the corner from her present address and contracts had been exchanged. Gregory had given her money for furniture and for what he had coyly called 'extras'. Paula had introduced her to the carpenter she had used in Wimbledon and he had taken measurements and drawings of her specifications for her own treatment room, mostly along the lines of the equipment Paula had designed, though with a few ideas of her own. He would fit it all next week, when she was due to move in. But he was not going to provide the leather harnesses and cuffs and all the other accoutrements she would need to ensure that she could make Gregory as uncomfortable as he had been with Paula.

  'Yes, thank you,' she said.

  'I have an arrangement with some of the girls who work around here. They s
end me suitable candidates and I take my pick whenever I'm expecting a customer.'

  'I'm sorry?' Angela said, puzzled.

  'As models.' There was another door at the end of the corridor. Mrs Beatty opened it. 'See for yourself.'

  She led Angela inside. The room was windowless and dark. As she closed the door Mrs Beatty switched on the light. Five men were arranged in a line under the bright spotlights that beamed down from a bar set in the ceiling. All were strapped tightly into leather harnesses of one sort or another and all were naked, apart from their bondage, two with tight leather helmets laced around their heads. There were other harnesses: simple leather cuffs of the sort Angela had seen Paula use, chained together in various combinations, plus leather belts and straps of all shapes and sizes hanging from the walls.

  'We make these two types of helmet,' Mrs Beatty said. 'As you see, one has only a hole to allow them to breathe through the nostrils. The other one has zips for the mouth and eyes. Each laces up the back.' The men wearing the helmets were kneeling on the floor. They had no choice. One was wearing what looked like a black leather straitjacket and leather ankle-cuffs. A chain was attached to the central link of the cuffs and stretched up to the back of a leather collar around his neck, making it impossible for him to straighten his legs. The other was encased in a sheet of leather from head to toe. It wrapped around his arms and was strapped tightly at six-inch intervals all the way down the back, stretching the leather tautly across his torso and the front of his legs. A thick belt had been threaded through the top and the bottom straps and pulled tight, so he was held in a kneeling position. Angela could see the outline of his erection pushing out against the black leather.

  'This gentleman is wearing perhaps our most uncomfortable piece of equipment. My husband hates it, which is why I make him wear it so much,' she giggled enthusiastically. 'Turn around, Andrew, and bend down.'

  She pulled another of the men round, so his back was facing Angela. He was wearing a thick leather collar. Hanging down from this was a leather strap, which was attached to two much shorter straps positioned horizontally. These straps had been secured tight around his arm, just above the elbows, and at his wrists. At the bottom of the vertical straps, his hands had been forced into crude and thick leather pockets which were laced tightly around his wrists too, making it impossible to use his fingers. As the man bent over Angela could see that another strap was wound tightly around his waist. From this, a leather strap extended down into the cleft of his buttocks and up between his legs.