The Dominatrix

by Becky Bell

  Slowly they fell back, their legs twined together, the hard curves of their pubic bones grinding against each other as their bodies undulated with increasing need. Angela rolled on top of Paula, pressing her thigh between her legs until she could feel the heat of the brunette's sex against it. She pushed the muscle of her thigh up until Paula's labia were splayed apart and she thought she could actually feel the opening of her vagina leaking juices onto her.

  Their bodies seemed to meld together. Angela's pulse was racing. Having sex with a woman was still new enough to her to find the difference between a man and a woman's body incredibly exciting. The fact that she was making love to a mirror image of herself, with the same erogenous zones and the same sensitivities, meant that every time she felt Paula's body react to an intimate caress, her body seemed to react in exactly the same way, too. It wasn't just that which was driving her excitement. There was the element of the forbidden, too. She had always thought that sex with a woman was taboo, a terrible sin. The fact that she was lying here, embracing and being embraced by one of the most voluptuous and beautiful women she had ever seen, seemed terribly wicked and she found that incredibly arousing.

  Up to the moment they had climbed onto the bed, Angela supposed that part of what they had been doing was a performance, orchestrated for Archie's benefit. But now Archie was almost forgotten. She was doing this for herself. Breaking away from Paula's fleshy lips, Angela pulled herself onto her knees, and straddled Paula's chest, feeling Paula's breasts resting against her inner thighs. She took her pink vibrator and turned it on, then ran the tip down from Paula's belly button to her mons, where the black nylon tights were cut open to reveal her stubbly pubic hair.

  But Paula was not in the mood to be passive. She reached up and wrapped her hands around Angela's thighs, just above the welts of her stockings, and pulled her back until her sex was poised above Paula's mouth. Without any hesitation Paula raised her head and planted her mouth squarely on Angela's sex. She took hold of the left side of Angela's labia and sucked it, drawing it out until it was stretched taut. At the same time she spread her own legs apart, bending them at the knee, presenting Angela - and Archie, of course - with a view of her open sex, framed by the black nylon. Her labia parted and her vagina winked open.

  Angela leant forward. She slotted her tongue into the narrow channel of Paula's sex and moved it up to her clitoris. As it butted up against the swollen nut of nerves, she ran the vibrator down onto it too, so her tongue and Paula's clit were both affected by the vibration. She slid her other hand under Paula's thigh and up to her vagina, prodding two fingers into it and then scissoring them apart, so the buttery flesh was pulled apart.

  Paula's mouth moved up to Angela's clit, her tongue battering against it like a tiny hammer. She took the cream vibrator and pushed it into Angela's vagina before turning it on. Then she rammed it right the way in, so deep that the tip nudged against the neck of Angela's womb, the vibrations coursing through her sex right the way up to her clit.

  The two women moaned and whimpered, their bodies undulating together. Angela felt her sex clench around the phallus, just as Paula's vagina convulsed too. Already her orgasm was gathering in her body. She forced her fingers into Paula's cunt right up to the knuckle and sawed them in and out. She could feel that the brunette was on the brink of orgasm too.

  Quickly, wanting the sensations to be exactly the same, Angela replaced her fingers with the vibrator, then started tapping her tongue against Paula's clit, just as Paula was doing to her. A whole array of new sensations leapt through her. It was as though everything was suddenly doubled, a vicious circle of sensations firmly established. As Angela reacted to the strong vibrations that were making her vagina contract convulsively, her little exclamations of delight, hot panting breaths, were forced out against Paula's clit. This in turn increased Paula's pleasure, making her whimper with passion against Angela's clit, the spiral of sensations winding itself tighter. The vibrations seemed to have joined up too, their bodies oscillating with the same pulse.

  Who came first, it was impossible to tell. Angela felt her sex lock around the hard plastic phallus that was invading it and her clit seemed to shudder, sending waves of pleasure coursing through every nerve in her body. Desperately she tried to concentrate on Paula's clit, maintaining the relentless rhythm the brunette was using on her; but as she faltered, the impact of her climax too great to allow her to go on, Paula gave a loud cry of delight and came, her body arched up off the bed.

  It took a long time for them to come down. They rolled over onto their sides but lay with each other's head pressed against their thighs, their arms wrapped tightly around their legs, each enjoying an aftershock of tiny thrills and tremors of sensation that followed the main quake.

  Paula moved first. Slowly she got to her feet and walked over to Archie.

  He was in a terrible state. His cock was so bloated and swollen it looked red raw, the fluid it had produced dripping to the floor. The weight underneath it was swinging from side to side, propelled by his efforts to struggle against his bondage. Sweat was running down his forehead and his chest.

  'Please...' he said, pushing the word somehow through the gag.

  'Did you enjoy your little show?' Paula said.

  He nodded energetically.

  'So what are we going to do with him, now?' Angela said, getting to her feet. She picked up Paula's discarded PVC catsuit.

  'I'm sure we can think of something.' Paula pushed her body into his, her big breasts crushing into his chest, his penis trapped against her nylon-covered belly.

  Angela walked up behind him. She ironed herself against his back, then stretched out her arms so they encompassed him and Paula. She locked her fingers together in the small of Paula's back, then hugged them both, Archie the meat in a human sandwich.

  The man whimpered. He would be able to feel their pebble-like nipples front and back.

  'Perhaps we should just leave him here,' Paula suggested as Angela released her grip and they both stepped back.

  'Yes. Let's do that.'

  Archie shook his head desperately. He tried to indicate the state of his cock by sticking his chin out and using it to point down.

  'It's not going to take much,' Paula said.

  'I think we should take pity on him.'

  Angela pressed her body into his back again and pulled the PVC catsuit round in front of him. She rubbed it over his chest and down over his navel and thighs. His cock twitched noticeably. 'He's into PVC. Likes me to wear a mac. Don't you, Archie?'

  Archie nodded.

  Angela found the crotch of the catsuit, held the garment upside down and made a V-shape by grasping the legs in both hands. She pulled the V up until his cock was nestled into the shiny black material. She sawed this from side to side.

  Immediately Archie's whole body went rigid. He stretched himself against his bondage with all his strength, every muscle in his body tensed, then came; in a matter of seconds, a parabolic arc of semen jetted out from his cock, so strongly that some of it spattered onto Paula's thigh. A second, less forceful jet followed.

  Angela wrapped the PVC around his phallus and used it to milk his cock, sticky semen oozing out onto the smooth shiny plastic.

  'Quite a performance,' she said. She smiled at Paula, who winked at her. Archie's evening was at an end, but theirs, they both knew, was only just beginning.

  'Ready?' Gary asked.

  'Yes. Just let me finish these details.' Angela tapped three or four more measurements into the pro forma on her computer, then closed the terminal down. 'Ready,' she said, standing up and picking up her handbag.

  'We'll have to drive. My car's around the back. What time are we expected?'

  'Six-thirty. But the owner said they might not be there and he's given me the keys.'

  They walked around to Gary's Mercedes. Yesterday they had been asked to take a new property on their books. From a cursory glance at the particulars it looked as if the house was going to be
valued at well over a million pounds and, as one of the partners was supposed to deal with all properties above that figure, she'd taken the details to Gary. He asked her if she would like to come with him to give a second opinion, when it came to the valuation, and she'd agreed. It would also be quicker, with the two of them, to take all the measurements of such a big house.

  'Look,' Gary said tentatively, 'I was thinking perhaps we could have dinner afterwards.' He continued as he held the passenger door open for her. 'I haven't seen much of you, this week.'

  Angela thought for a moment. She had planned something for tonight, but she couldn't remember what it was. It couldn't have been very important. 'I'd like that,' she said.

  Gary beamed with pleasure. 'Good. Do you want to go home and change, or shall we go straight on somewhere?'

  'I'd rather have a shower and change first.'

  He got behind the wheel and drove off. The property was in a secluded part of Holland Park. It was a large Georgian house with a white stucco exterior.

  'Impressive. Did you meet the owners?' Gary asked.

  'Yes. Mr and Mrs Hollyfield. They were a bit of an unlikely couple. He was very timid and reserved and she was vivacious and really quite attractive.' Mrs Hollyfield had been tall, slender and elegant, her clothes bearing designer labels. She seemed a complete mismatch for her small, balding husband.

  They rang the doorbell to make sure the Hollyfields were not at home, then used the keys to enter the house. It was palatial, with a large open sitting room, a huge dining room with a table big enough to seat thirty people, and a kitchen that had been fitted out with a Smallbone kitchen. There were expensive objets d'art dotted around the rooms and several impressive oil paintings from post-impressionist painters.

  They took measurements and made notes, then walked out into the garden and measured that too. It was small but well kept, with an ornamental fountain and a stone-flagged patio.

  Carefully locking the doors again, they walked up the stone staircase to the first floor.

  There were three guest bedrooms on this floor, each with their own en suite bathroom. They worked through them all. At the far rend of the corridor, facing the gardens at the back, was the master bedroom suite. It had twin beds, both under elaborate flounced canopies that matched the heavy curtains at the large windows. The windows were west-facing and the late afternoon sun was streaming through them.

  There were three doors in a row on the left-hand wall. Gary opened one of them and led the way into a bathroom, its walls and floor tiled with grey marble. There was a sunken bath, fixed with jacuzzi and a separate shower cubicle.

  'Quite a style of living,' Gary said.

  'I'd love to try that bath.'

  They took notes and did all the measurements.

  'So what's in here, then?' Gary said, grasping the handle of the second door.

  'Dressing room, probably.' The bedroom itself was comparatively uncluttered with furniture, and there was certainly nowhere for Mrs Hollyfield's designer clothes.

  'It's locked,' Gary said.

  'There's a key here.' There was a small mortise key hanging discreetly from a hook on the architrave. Angela unhooked it, inserted it in the lock, then opened the door.

  The room beyond was small and rectangular. The ceiling had been painted black and its walls draped in black satin. In the middle of the room was a wooden frame about the size of a single bed and covered with a black silk sheet. Chains attached to metal manacles were secured to each leg of the frame and, on the wall opposite the frame, there was a full-length mirror, angled down, so that the whole frame was reflected in it. The room was heavily scented with an expensive musky perfume.

  'My God!' Angela exclaimed.

  Gary was blushing a beetroot red. 'I think we'd better go.'

  In the corner, on a small table, was a television and a video recorder.

  'I can imagine what games they play in here, can't you?' She walked over to the video recorder and switched it and the television on.

  'You can't do that,' Gary protested.

  'Why not?'

  'What if they come back?'

  'We'll hear them if they do.'

  The television screen had flickered into life. The scene was the same room in which they were standing. Mrs Hollyfield was facing the camera, wearing a beautiful loose-fitting silk eau-de-nil teddy, its bodice trimmed in purple lace, flesh-coloured stockings, purple satin high-heeled slippers, and white satin gloves. She was carrying a long thin whip with a silver pommel. Experimentally, she slapped it into the palm of her other hand.

  'Hurry up,' she said.

  Her husband shuffled into the room. He was naked, apart from a pair of black rubber pants.

  'Lie on the bed, Ivan; I'm not in the mood to be messed about.' Mrs Hollyfield's face gazed at her husband with undisguised distaste.

  Angela glanced at Gary. He shivered as if someone had run over his grave. 'We can't watch this,' Gary said. He turned the television off and rewound the video tape.

  'I thought he looked rather hen-pecked.' It appeared that even married couples could indulge in a taste for S and M.

  'We'd better not make any reference to this room on the details,' he said.

  'Why not? En suite sex room, ideal for S and M addicts,' she said cheerfully.

  They walked out and locked the door behind them, replacing the key on its hook.

  The third door off the bedroom turned out to be a large dressing room, racked with clothes on either side, with a double-sided chest of drawers running down the middle. Angela gazed at Mrs Hollyfield's couture dresses. At the far end there was lingerie too, hanging on special padded hangers.

  'Look at this,' she said to Gary, pulling out the eau-de-nil number they had seen in the video. There were teddies in black satin and white lace. Angela opened the drawers on the chests and found corsets too, waspies and basques in boned tulle and neatly arranged packets of stockings. Another drawer revealed matching sets of suspender belts, panties and bras, all in the finest silks, satin and lace.

  'You shouldn't be doing that,' Gary said, with no conviction, looking over her shoulder at the contents.

  'It's just curiosity. She's got some beautiful things.'

  She opened the deeper drawer at the bottom. This contained a collection of leather belts, cuffs, chains and leather harnesses.

  'Come on,' Gary said. 'Let's finish off.' She could see he was blushing again.

  While Gary measured up the dressing room, Angela sneaked out into the main bedroom again. Her curiosity had got the better of her. She walked over to the bedside chests on either side of the beds. She guessed that Mrs Hollyfield slept on the right hand side, from the fact there was a small jewellery case on top of that chest. She opened the top drawer. Inside was a selection of dildoes: two large rubber ones, their shells moulded to resemble the veins on a male phallus, one smooth plastic type and a smaller stubbly variety with a flared end. There were a set of oval nipple-clips too, the same as the ones she had seen in Paula's treatment room.

  She closed the drawer quietly. Mrs Hollyfield was obviously a woman who knew exactly what she wanted when it came to sex. She imagined her lying on this small single bed with dildoes crammed into both passages of her body. Perhaps she used the straps and harnesses to restrain her husband on the bed next to her, making him watch and listen while she brought herself off. It was Angela's turn to shudder.

  They carefully walked through every room again to make sure they had not missed anything, then double-locked the front door and climbed back into the car.

  'I'll take you home,' he said.

  'Thanks.'

  They drove in silence, Gary seeming preoccupied.

  It was no more than ten minutes to Angela's front door. Gary double-parked outside her block.

  'What time shall I pick you up?' he said.

  'Why don't you come in and have a drink?' she said. 'It'll only take me fifteen minutes to shower and change.'

  He looked hesitant. 'I ne
ed to change, too.'

  'That's fine. Then I can come in and wait for you.'

  'All right. You get out and I'll find somewhere to park.'

  Angela went into her block, while Gary cruised the streets looking for a parking space. It was several minutes before the entry-phone rang.

  'Sorry,' he said. 'Had to go miles.'

  'That's OK.'

  Angela had stripped off her clothes and wore a white towelling robe. 'I've opened a bottle of wine. Would you like a glass?'

  'To tell you the truth, I'd like something stronger. You don't have a whisky, do you?'

  Angela went into the kitchen and poured Gary a whisky from a bottle Gregory had brought around for his own use. It was a fine single malt.

  'Water?' she called through to him.

  'No. Neat.'

  She came back and handed him his drink and he swallowed half of it in one gulp, then flopped down on the sofa. 'Thanks,' he said.

  'Won't be a minute.'

  Angela ran the shower and stepped under it. She had never seen Gary like this. Obviously the arrangements Mr and Mrs Hollyfield made for their sexual amusement had shocked him. He seemed to be remote and removed, his thoughts turned inward.

  Letting the hot water cascade over her body Angela lathered herself with soap then washed it away. She turned the shower off and sat naked on the bathroom stool to retouch her make-up. In the bedroom, she decided what she was going to wear. She flicked through her rapidly growing collection of luxurious lingerie and chose a bright red semi-transparent tulle bra, panties and suspender belt, the tulle edged in turquoise-blue satin ribbon. The bold colour combinations reminded her of the teddy Mrs Hollyfield had worn in the video. She rolled on a pair of champagne-coloured stockings.

  She had no intention of wearing a dress - not until later, anyway.

  The encounter with Mrs Hollyfield's very obvious predilections had left her almost breathless with need and she knew exactly how to get Gary to feel the same. She squeezed her feet into a pair of strappy white high heels with a needle-fine heel and walked back into the front room.