Mistress Extreme

by Alex Jordaine

  David’s nipples felt OK now, not painful at all, just numb. But his anus was a different matter. He tried again to find a position that would make him less aware of the size of the object crammed inside him. But each time he moved, his insides seemed to swell even more, crying out in protest.

  Their waiter returned, holding two glasses of spirit, ice cubes clinking. Isabella raised her glass and took a long pull and David did likewise, thinking: That’s what I need – some liquid pain killer. The whisky felt good, giving him an instant buzz. He looked at his sadistic Mistress, then down at his drink, rattling the ice cubes. He drank some more whisky, feeling a warm glow begin suffusing itself through his body. The pain in his backside was starting to ease off now. When the effect of the scotch fully kicked in, David told himself, that would help further reduce his discomfort.

  After briefly conferring with David Isabella took over the ordering of the food and wine. Neither of them would have a starter, she told the waiter, and they would both have the seafood salad, share a bottle of the house white.

  Their meal arrived promptly and they ate it in silence for a while, Isabella choosing not to speak and David knowing instinctively that wherever possible he should only speak to his Mistress when spoken to. Then Isabella broke the silence. ‘Do you find me a cruel Mistress?’ she asked, studying him over the rim of her wine glass. There was nobody at the table adjacent to theirs or anywhere else in the immediate vicinity to overhear her words.

  ‘Very cruel, Mistress,’ David replied.

  ‘But hard to resist, huh?’

  ‘Impossible to resist,’ David said. ‘I couldn’t imagine any slave trying to resist you.’

  ‘It has been known,’ Isabella said.

  ‘Really, Mistress?’ David sounded incredulous.

  ‘There was this young slave called Dee who tried to resist me not so very long ago,’ Isabella said, pouring them both some more wine. ‘Would you like to hear about it?’

  ‘Yes please, Mistress.’

  ‘It happened last summer’ Isabella said, commencing her account. ‘You’ll remember how lousy the weather was that season right from the start…’

  Outside the sky was heavy with black clouds and it was raining hard. The wind was blowing branches around and gulls shrieked, almost inaudible in the storm. Isabella ushered her windswept friend John – or Master John as he was known on the Brighton fetish scene – into her beautifully furnished living room. She fixed her guest a drink and gestured with an elegant hand for him to come and sit with her on the black leather couch.

  ‘Thanks for seeing me,’ John said, a worried frown creasing his handsome features. ‘I didn’t know who to turn to for advice about the problem I’ve got with my new slave Dee but you seemed the best person.’

  ‘No thanks are necessary,’ Isabella replied and waited for him to elaborate.

  ‘You haven’t met Dee yet, have you,’ John said.

  ‘I haven’t, no,’ Isabella agreed.

  ‘She’s lovely, stunning,’ John enthused. ‘I’m absolutely nuts about her.’

  ‘So far so good,’ Isabella said. ‘Where’s the problem?’

  John took a sip from his drink and glanced out of the window. It really was wild out there. The weather had been like this for the last week – and it was supposed to be the beginning of summer in sunny Brighton. So far the weather had been foul, a south-westerly twisting off the English Channel day after stormy day. The seaside city was definitely not at its best. Nor was John. He looked back at Isabella, cleared his throat and said, ‘In a nutshell, I’m finding Dee increasingly difficult to control.’

  ‘Feisty at times is she?’ Isabella asked.

  ‘Yes, and obstinate, argumentative, truculent, opinionated, disobedient …’

  ‘I get the picture,’ Isabella interjected with a smile. ‘But don’t you perhaps think that by behaving like that she’s just trying to goad you into disciplining her more strictly.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘It seems a distinct possibility,’ Isabella said. She liked John but to her mind he was less than convincing as a dominator. Not exactly the type. He was an amiable sort, never exactly pushy. ‘In fact, if you want my honest opinion, John,’ she went on, ‘I think you’re probably too damn nice to keep such an obviously wilful character under control. I hope you don’t mind me saying that.’ Isabella valued John’s friendship and didn’t want to offend him. On the other hand there was no point in beating about the bush.

  ‘I’ve had a lot worse insults,’ John replied with a wry smile. ‘But I must admit being too nice, as you put it, isn’t exactly an ideal trait in a Master – particularly with a handful like Dee to try and keep in order.’

  ‘The way I see it, you’ve got some of the best characteristics of a great Dom,’ Isabella went on, sugaring the pill a little for her friend. ‘You’re brilliant at Japanese rope bondage and wax play too, and you can certainly administer a good whipping. But you don’t have that fundamentally cruel streak that’s needed to be a truly effective dominator.’

  ‘You’re right, although I hate to admit it,’ John said. ‘The trouble is I can’t make myself into something I’m not, I know that. Yet I’m genuinely worried that the whole situation could lead to Dee and me splitting up and I really don’t want that to happen – I’m madly in love with the girl. What on earth am I going to do, Isabella?’

  The dominatrix frowned. ‘There must be a solution to this,’ she said, pausing to think for a few moments, ‘and … yes … I think I know what it is.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘What if Dee could be handed over to someone who’s not only extremely sadistic but is also someone you personally feel you can trust,’ Isabella said. ‘This would only be for a brief session so she can be given a short sharp shock, so to speak. That might well do the trick with your Dee, don’t you think?’

  ‘What, bring her to heel?’

  ‘Yes,’ Isabella replied. ‘And make her realise just how well off she is with you as her Master.’

  ‘I think you might well be on to something,’ John said, brightening. ‘What you’re suggesting’s got quite a ring about it.’

  ‘Also,’ Isabella continued, ‘there’d be an added bonus for you if you went ahead with my suggestion.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘You could threaten Dee with further sessions with the person concerned if she gets out of line in the future. That would be a good way of keeping her under control longer term, don’t you agree?’

  ‘I do, Isabella,’ John said. ‘In fact the whole idea sounds increasingly good to me the more you explain it. Did you have somebody specifically in mind to discipline Dee in this cruel and ingenious way?’

  ‘Yes,’ Isabella replied simply. ‘Me.’

  Chapter Ten

  Isabella and Dee were in Isabella’s luxurious living room. Its tall windows were curtained in heavy linen and net. Outside the sky was leaden with dark clouds and the rain was coming down in fierce grey sheets. Leaves clogged the gullies and lay in swathes across the pavement. The summer weather remained dreadful. It was definitely better to be indoors – for some people at any rate.

  Isabella was seated in a black leather armchair. Wearing only a chain mail bra that barely contained her beautiful breasts, a tiny side-split mini skirt also of chain mail, and high-heeled shoes, she looked magnificent. Immediately adjacent to the chair in which she was seated was a side table that had a selection of whips, paddles, canes and other disciplinary implements neatly lined up on its surface.

  Dee, the expression on her face as blank a mask as she could make it, was standing before the formidable dominatrix so that she could inspect her. Isabella noted the stubborn set of her jaw and the glint of disobedience in her big lustrous brown eyes. She was also struck by the almost perfect symmetry of her features and how lovely looking she was.

  Dee had dark hair, which was shiny and straight and hung to her shoulders. Small earrings glittered at her ears. She had full br
easts and tight tan legs. Her glorious figure was enhanced by the flesh toned mini dress she was wearing, which left nothing to the imagination. Her nipples were plainly visible beneath the dress and she was obviously nude underneath it. As well as being low cut, showing a large expanse of her ample bosom, the dress was miniscule and diaphanous. If anything it seemed to make her more naked.

  ‘That’s a nice dress you’re nearly wearing,’ Isabella said with a throaty chuckle. ‘Mind you, I’m one to talk!’

  Dee kept her expression impassive, thinking: What’s she trying to do here? Just be friendly? Break the ice? Lull me into a false sense of security?

  ‘Dee, I know what you’re thinking,’ Isabella said suddenly, unnerving the slave. ‘Just stop it, all right.’ She got out of her chair to stand in front of Dee and her dark eyes bored into her with piercing severity.

  ‘Undo the top of your dress,’ she ordered brusquely. ‘Take your breasts out and be quick about it.’

  ‘Yes, Mistress,’ Dee replied and immediately did as she’d been told.

  ‘They’re nice and full, it’s true.’ Isabella stroked and lifted Dee’s breasts approvingly. ‘But I see no sign of any recent discipline. That concerns me.’ She shook her head in apparent dismay.

  ‘These are lovely too,’ she continued, pinching Dee’s pinkish-brown nipples, which protruded urgently in response. ‘Tell me, do you have sensitive nipples?’

  Dee did not at first reply and kept her expression impassive. But Isabella saw the defiance that flickered in her eyes.

  ‘Well?’ Isabella asked again, an edge to her voice. ‘Do you have sensitive nipples?’

  ‘Yes, Mistress,’ Dee replied apprehensively, ‘I do – very.’

  ‘Good,’ Isabella said, viciously squeezing the slave’s engorged buds, ‘Then you won’t like me doing this.’ Dee gasped with pain and hunched forward, her head bowed, her dark hair falling across her face.

  ‘Don’t slouch like that, Dee. Stand up straight,’ Isabella told her as she herself returned to her seat. ‘Now lift up your dress at the front. I want to examine your pussy.’

  ‘Yes, Mistress.’

  ‘Mmmm, very nice,’ Isabella commented. ‘No pubic hair at all … labia distended – lovely, like two petals … clitoris pronounced. Tell me, I’ve been reliably informed you keep your sex clean-shaven at all times. Is that so?’

  ‘Yes, Mistress.’

  ‘Well, at least you’re doing one of the things expected of a good slave, but precious little else, I’m given to understand.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘No buts, slave. The only butt I’m interested in is this one.’ Isabella gestured with an impatient twirl of her hand that she wished Dee to turn her back to her. ‘Lift your dress again.’

  ‘Yes, Mistress.’

  ‘You have a lovely round behind,’ she told her. ‘It’s eminently spankable.’

  ‘Thank you, Mistress,’ Dee replied, looking over her shoulder at Isabella and smiling for the first time. It was an engaging smile, very sexy. Her brown eyes glittered seductively.

  ‘That doesn’t mean I’m happy with it,’ Isabella said, refusing to connect with that sexy smile, that seductive gaze, and fixing Dee with another sharp stare instead. She then looked back at the young woman’s backside. ‘Where’s the evidence of recent punishment to this lovely rear of yours? The bruises, the weals, and the welts? I’ll have to put that right tout de suite. Come across my knee, slave, now.’

  Dee bent over Isabella’s lap, placing her hands on the floor in front of her. The cheeks of her backside tensed as the dominatrix flicked the bottom of her insubstantial dress out of the way to fully reveal her comely rear again. Isabella stroked its beautiful soft globes with one hand and moved her other hand to Dee’s sex.

  Her fingers slipped inside her slippery wet vagina and as she moved to touch the pink thorn of her clitoris Dee let out a moan of pleasure.

  ‘You’re extremely wet down here,’ Isabella said. ‘I hope that doesn’t mean you’re expecting to enjoy this.’ Isabella suddenly squeezed Dee’s clit hood, causing the slave to cringe in startled agony.

  ‘You must understand something, Dee,’ the dominatrix explained, moving the hand that had been stroking the slave’s rear to her breasts and squeezing hard on both her nipples for a second time, making her squeal. ‘We’re here so you can be severely disciplined, not for you to derive pleasure. Understood?’

  ‘Understood, Mistress,’ Dee replied, shivering with pain.

  ‘On the other hand,’ Isabella went on, plunging her fingers into Dee’s dripping pussy and starting to masturbate her, ‘if at any time you find yourself on the verge of climaxing, you must get my permission to come. Clear?’

  ‘Clear, Mistress,’ the slave replied, gasping. She became increasingly frantic as Isabella’s fingers worked more vigorously between the lips of her sex.

  ‘I … ah … oh … permission to come, Mistress,’ Dee cried out suddenly.

  ‘Say “please”,’ Isabella taunted, increasing even more the rough finger-fucking she was giving the slave.

  ‘Permission to come, please, Mistress, oh please …’ Dee begged.

  ‘Permission granted,’ Isabella replied and the young slave climaxed in great shuddering spasms.

  ‘See how good I am to you,’ Isabella said next. ‘Here, lick.’ She put her fingers, sticky with Dee’s love juices, across her lips and the slave kissed and licked them. ‘Now suck them.’ She slowly pushed two fingers into Dee’s mouth and she sucked them greedily as Isabella slid them back and forth between her lips.

  ‘Look Dee, fair’s fair,’ Isabella said, withdrawing her fingers from the young woman’s mouth. ‘You’ve just enjoyed some real pleasure. Now you must endure some real pain. Agreed?’

  ‘Yes, Mistress,’ she replied uncertainly.

  Isabella paused for a moment to admire Dee’s backside again, all round and bare and vulnerable, before beginning her spanking. Smack! The crisp sound announced that the spanking had begun and the red palm print on Dee’s backside bore witness to the cruel accuracy of that first stroke. Smack! Isabella’s hand cracked down again on the curved cheeks with another harsh spank.

  After many more robust smacks, when that luxurious living room rang with the sound of hand on naked flesh, Isabella told Dee that her backside was reddening impressively. She then increased the frequency and harshness of her blows. She continued unremittingly, cracking her hand down onto Dee’s backside with relentless vigour, following one smack after another in swift succession. The cheeks of the young slave’s rear smarted with a fire that made her tense and squirm in pain, and with each slap her tensing and squirming increased.

  ‘I can see a nice red glow now,’ Isabella said, pausing briefly to admire her handiwork before returning to her task with a will. When she increased the momentum of the spanking still further Dee reached back with a hand to try and protect herself.

  ‘Stop that this instant, bitch,’ Isabella snapped, brushing the hand away. She did actually stop beating Dee for a short time and gently stroked her backside but only to quickly resume spanking her, this time with even greater ferocity. She now also included her upper thighs in the thrashing and did not stop until that whole area of her body was coloured an even red. Dee let out an involuntary wail of pain as the full effect of the spanking spread through her body.

  ‘Ooh, poor baby,’ Isabella cooed in mock solicitude. ‘Does that hurt?’

  ‘Yes, Mistress,’ came the halting reply.

  ‘Tough shit,’ her tormentor retorted, adding ominously, ‘For goodness sake, girl, I’ve barely even started.’

  Isabella then suddenly pulled Dee off her lap by the hair. ‘Stand up and take off your dress and shoes,’ she demanded. Isabella got to her feet herself once Dee was nude. She instructed her to turn round so she could examine her punished rear. When she’d done this Isabella told her to turn back and face her. She looked the young slave in the eye.

  Dee looked back at Isabella,
again trying to keep any emotion from showing on her face. But inside she remained defiant, repeating to herself over and over her own determined chant, I won’t let her win, I won’t let her win, I won’t let her win, I won’t …

  Isabella interrupted this inner mantra: ‘You know, Dee,’ she said, shooting her an incendiary look, ‘I can tell you – having myself just carried out an inspection – that you now have two lovely red cheeks.’ Isabella had again noted the gleam of rebellion in the young woman’s eyes that her expressionless face was unable to disguise. ‘No, sorry, three red cheeks’ she added, suddenly slapping her round the face hard.

  ‘Look, I’ve told you before,’ Isabella said in a patient tone as she watched the red rose of a bruise begin to bloom on the young slave’s cheek, ‘I know what you’re thinking. So, please don’t kid yourself you can beat me. Oh, and talking of beating …’ Isabella took hold of a red leather paddle from the selection of disciplinary implements on the side table, and weighed it in her hands. ‘See my paddle, slave?’

  ‘Yes, Mistress,’ Dee replied, visibly shaken by the unexpected slap to the face that she’d received.

  ‘I’m now going to use it to beat your backside an even redder shade of red – until it’s as red as this paddle. No, thinking about it, redder still – as red as the reddest rose in a bunch of red, red roses. What colour would you say I am aiming for, slave?’

  ‘Red, Mistress,’ Dee muttered.

  ‘Well spotted,’ Isabella mocked. ‘Now I want you to go over to that table.’ Isabella gestured with the paddle. ‘Lean over it with your arms in front of you, your back arched, legs parted and backside in the air. That’s right …Prepare to be punished further. But Dee,’ she added, ‘before we re-commence, please note that I’ve thoughtfully left a nice soft leather cushion on the table for you to rest your head on. You see, I’m not entirely cruel, now am I?’

  ‘Yes, Mistress … I mean, no,’ responded the flustered slave, who found that she couldn’t stop trembling.