Mistress Extreme

by Alex Jordaine

  ‘Aah!’ Jacqui cried as the first red-hot strike from the flogger landed across the middle of her backside. She gave another gasp of pain as Isabella’s next stroke planted a second line of fire across her rear. And so it went on. The beating continued unremittingly, causing the cheeks of Jacqui’s backside to smart with a fire that made her squirm and gasp in pain.

  Isabella then got David to release Jacqui from the spreader bar and told both of them to come with her. She walked them over to a single chain with manacle attachments, which hung down to around waist height from the ceiling hook to which it was attached. It was about the only piece of equipment in the room not in use by this stage, the fetish party now being in full swing.

  Immediately to their right a naked man wearing a blindfold and a gag had been strapped on his front over a whipping bench by a rubber-clad dominatrix who had left him there on his own for the time being. The man’s backside had already been whipped a livid red, the black base of a vibrating butt plug protruded from his anus, and numerous metal pegs were attached to his genitals.

  Isabella told David to secure Jacqui’s wrists behind her back to the manacle attachments at the end of the chain. While he was doing that Isabella took hold of a red ball gag and a set of clover clamps. She put the gag into Jacqui’s mouth and buckled it into place behind her head.

  ‘I’m now going to give you a serious beating,’ Isabella informed Jacqui as if the flogging she’d already received from her had been no more than a trifle. ‘I’ll place these into your right hand,’ she added, showing her the clover clamps. ‘If the pain gets too much for you, drop the clamps.’ Jacqui nodded her head in obedient response as she felt the item being placed behind her into her hand.

  Isabella went on to beat Jacqui’s backside with a leather tawse. Harsh stroke followed harsh stroke in quick succession and agonized moan followed agonized moan from beneath Jacqui’s gag. Isabella rained increasingly heavy blows on Jacqui’s backside, beating her with ever more ferocity until her rear blazed like a red-hot furnace.

  Eventually the searing sensations of pain became too excruciating for the slave and she had to drop the clamps she had in her hand. These clattered to the ground, their links making a pool of silver on the hardwood floor. Isabella stopped beating her immediately. She unbuckled and removed the ball gag Jacqui had been wearing and masturbated her hard to an orgasm of great intensity. Jacqui’s breath came in quick little pants and her whole body was shaking and shivering as she climaxed, making the chain behind her strain against the ceiling hook that held it firmly in place.

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Jacqui was still hyperventilating when she was released from the chain. She said that she needed a couple of stiff drinks to get over the whole experience. At the end of the evening, Jacqui said she thought she might be over the drink driving limit. Could she perhaps sleep at Isabella’s house, she wondered – quelle surprise! The dominatrix agreed and took her to bed with her that night, sending David, the invisible man, off to his own quarters until morning. There was no raunchy threesome for him this time round. What there was instead was a raunchy twosome for Isabella and Jacqui – with a wickedly exciting twist of something extra …

  Isabella turned on to her stomach on the bed. She and Jacqui were naked, their beautiful bodies bathed in the soft glow of the bedside light. ‘Finger-fuck me and lick my arsehole, slave,’ Isabella ordered, opening her legs. She could feel her pussy go nice and wet as she said the words.

  Jacqui knelt between her spread legs, looking down at her beautiful backside and the slit of her sex. ‘Your word is my command, Mistress,’ she whispered as she plunged her fingers into Isabella’s pussy, making her groan with desire. She began pushing her fingers in and out of her, fast and hard.

  Then Jacqui brought her mouth to Isabella’s rear cheeks and pressed her lips to her anus, licking her until she trembled with desire. And all the time her tongue was flick-flick-flicking over Isabella’s anus she carried on masturbating her, making her clitoris pulse with a moist insistent throb until a powerful orgasm washed over her.

  Finally Isabella’s orgasm subsided and she told Jacqui to shift position and lie next to her. She rolled over then herself, revealing her naked breasts and erect nipples and the copious wetness between her thighs. ‘Your turn now, slave,’ she said.

  Jacqui’s eyes were shiny and her breathing shallow as Isabella pulled her down into her arms. She pressed her lips to hers and kissed her hard as she rolled on top of her. Isabella then put her lips to Jacqui’s throat and licked a gentle trail down to her sex and began kissing her there. Her pussy was as wet and gleaming as her own and Isabella subjected it to a persistent licking, making it wetter still. Jacqui groaned deeply and ran her hands up over her stiff nipples and pinched them as Isabella licked deep inside her vagina, which was now sopping wet. She cried out in total abandon when she licked her to a blissful orgasm.

  Then Isabella slithered back up the bed. ‘You’ve made me incredibly wet, Mistress,’ Jacqui told her huskily.

  ‘I know,’ Isabella replied. ‘Wet enough to fuck you with my fist, which is what I’m going to do now.’

  Jacqui remained on her back, her body arching towards Isabella. She was slack-mouthed and her eyes were glazed with lust, her pupils dilated. She opened her legs wide apart. Her pussy was wet and sticky, dripping with liquid.

  Isabella then put a hand down on her and started to rub, started to grind her fingers against her clitoral bud. She put two fingers into the slickness of her pussy, feeling the soft wetness of her insides. And Jacqui thrust her hips lasciviously against her probing fingers. They were really working Jacqui’s pussy now and Isabella twisted a third one in. She drove all three of them deep inside her, plunging hard into her wet, wet sex. Jacqui was tight around her fingers as Isabella snaked her hand down to rub her stiff shiny clitoris again, this time with her thumb, and simultaneously she inserted a fourth finger into her vagina.

  She forged deep into her sopping wetness several times before she inserted her thumb. She had her whole hand inside Jacqui’s sex now, plunged into the hot oozing wetness of her. Jacqui was in a delirium of lust. Her breath was coming quicker and quicker. Her sex was soaking, drenched. Isabella’s hand was drenched too as she pushed and pushed until Jacqui climaxed, shaking and moaning. Her face screwed up as her orgasm reached its peak and she cried out loudly. Isabella removed her hand. Her palm and wrist were soaked. The bedspread was wet with juice.

  ‘That was awesome, Mistress,’ Jacqui said. ‘The whole evening was – thanks to you. What extraordinary luck it was that I bumped into you.’ Yeah right, Isabella smiled to herself. Believe that last statement of Jacqui’s and you’d believe anything.

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  That night spent by Jacqui under Isabella’s roof turned into a week during which she informed Isabella that she was currently between jobs, had been sleeping on a friend’s couch. Could she, maybe … blah, blah, blah.

  So, the week turned into a month, turned into a second month. Jacqui was over the moon, thought she’d died and gone to heaven. David just wished she’d go to hell. Except, well, that was only half the truth. It was also a fact that, not to put too fine a point on it, she turned him on considerably, made him quite incredibly horny.

  David couldn’t help himself – despite Jacqui’s transparent deviousness, despite the fact that she had once shown herself all to willing to hang him out to dry when it had suited her purposes, he really liked having the randy little madam around. And he loved it when he and she were disciplined together by Isabella. It was intoxicating, it was extreme ...

  Isabella was standing in the middle of the dungeon, looking exquisite in a miniscule chain mail bikini and pointed leather shoes with sharp stiletto heels. She was admiring her efforts so far:

  A naked Jacqui, her eyes wide and glassy, lay on her back on the black leather-covered bondage table. Isabella had clipped the chains at the four corners of the table to the red leather wrist and ankle
cuffs Jacqui had on. This had had the effect of spreading her arms and legs widely apart. Jacqui’s bald pussy was completely exposed. It was moist and silky, dripping with liquid, and her clit was twitching.

  David was also naked and in bondage. Isabella had beaten him thoroughly already and now had him strapped tightly into the upright torture chair. The dominatrix had gagged him with a soft black leather gag and attached clover clamps to his nipples. His cock was rigidly erect.

  Isabella strode towards the leather-covered bondage table to which she had Jacqui spread eagled. The domme’s shapely thighs quivered and rubbed together provocatively as she moved and her stiletto heeled shoes click-clicked against the dungeon floor.

  It was Jacqui’s turn to be disciplined now and the young slave knew it. She could feel her heart thumping and her pussy began to tighten moistly, her clit to twitch still more. Her breath was coming fast and furious.

  Isabella didn’t start Jacqui’s discipline with anything even approaching a warm up. Instead she began whipping her breasts hard with a heavy leather flogger, marking the two fleshy orbs with vivid lines that were a fierce red in colour. She then switched disciplinary implements and started beating Jacqui’s pussy with a small but vicious leather flogger. It hurt like the devil, that flogger, each harsh strike causing Jacqui to jump and shudder in her bonds. Her eyes started to brim with tears, pain and fear colliding in her punished body.

  The dominatrix stopped beating Jacqui all of a sudden. ‘This nasty little flogger works even better on a man’s genitals,’ she announced as she strode away from Jacqui and returned her attention to David who remained gagged and tightly strapped to the upright torture chair. The hard flesh of his erection was now smeared copiously with precome fluid, which had worked itself from its glans.

  Isabella used the vicious little flogger to whip David’s shaft ferociously hard. It reared up even higher in response, angrily purple and veiny. David jerked against his restraints at the indescribably sharp pain he was experiencing, but still Isabella kept on beating his aching erection. Eventually the desperate look in David’s eyes told her that the pain was becoming too much for him to bear and she stopped whipping him. She released him from the torture chair and removed his nipple clamps and gag.

  The dominatrix then released Jacqui from the bondage table. She led her and David to a part of the dungeon where four chains hung from the ceiling to about four feet from the ground.

  Isabella placed the two slaves standing back to back either side of the chains, and took hold of a box of red pegs. She used all of these, attaching them painfully to their nipples, Jacqui’s pussy lips, David’s scrotum and one to the small flap of skin just under the head of his engorged cock.

  Isabella then blindfolded them both and told them to turn round. She clipped their wrist cuffs to the end of a chain each and then winched the chains up so that their arms were outstretched above their heads. Finally she manacled Jacqui’s ankles to either end of a wooden hobble bar and attached David’s ankles to another hobble bar in the same way.

  ‘Now for some more torture,’ announced the dominatrix, her voice harsh. She selected a rattan cane for the purpose and went on to thrash their backsides with it, alternating four stripes per slave. She sliced the cruel implement through the air in one quick swipe after another. The blows of the cane cracked hard each time against their flesh and made them wince and squeal and buck within their bonds.

  Isabella steadily increased the severity of her caning until they were both shuddering violently in agonized ecstasy … and then she stopped abruptly, dropping the rattan cane to the floor where it landed with a clatter. The dominatrix marched away from the two slaves to the door of the dungeon, opened it and left.

  Jacqui lifted her lips to David. She kissed him on the mouth, her warm lips pressing hard against his. David felt the tip of her tongue probe his lips. Jacqui moved her mouth away for a fraction, and then brought it back. She kissed his open mouth again, this time pushing her tongue into his, sliding it over and over.

  Jacqui felt horny beyond belief, the heat of desire sweeping through her body. Her clit was buzzing, burning as if David’s thick long cock was already thrusting away inside her. She was ripe, ready. David felt ready too, more than ready.

  The two blindfolded slaves would have loved to have fucked then, loved to. They imagined fucking, imagined doing it again and again with amazing intensity. But their bondage – the taut chains, the hobble bars, the pegs attached to their genitals – made anything like that a physical impossibility.

  David and Jacqui did the only thing they could do. They continued to kiss deeply, David letting Jacqui explore his mouth still more with her hard wet tongue. They kissed for a very long time. They kissed and kissed and kissed. Jacqui’s lips were soft and her tongue voluptuous. David abandoned himself to that lengthy kiss, surrendered to it, his senses exploding. It felt so right to him. It felt too right. It felt so right it was wrong.

  Chapter Forty

  Looking back, David knew he would have acted very differently if he could have had his time over again. But we are all blessed with 20-20 vision when it comes to viewing events in hindsight. David didn’t have perfect vision at the time. In fact, he couldn’t see a damn thing. And he wasn’t even blindfolded on this occasion, neither of them were.

  Isabella had arranged to meet up with Kate for dinner and decided to “park” Jacqui and David in her absence. She chose to take the pair of them, both naked as usual, down to the dungeon and lock them inside its metal cage. She left them there where she had positioned them, kneeling side by side and about a foot apart. ‘You can talk as much as you like but no touching,’ she ordered, adding, ‘I won’t bother to monitor you with the CCTV this time. There’d be no point.’ They had both begun to ponder what might have been the significance of that last remark when everything suddenly went pitch black as the lights zapped off, and Isabella slammed shut the dungeon door behind her departing form.

  David felt as if he was in a darkened cinema waiting for the big film to start, and it was an erotic film. He could smell the sensual, musky scent of Jacqui’s perfume. And then her soft, warm breath was by his ear. Her mouth was so close he thought she was going to kiss him. He very much hoped she wouldn’t try anything like that, delicious though the prospect was, and indeed she didn’t. She whispered to him instead but what she said was indistinct, he didn’t catch it.

  ‘What was that?’ he said.

  ‘Mistress said we can talk,’ she said. It looked as if Jacqui was going to behave herself this time, but you never knew with her.

  The darkness around them was thick and close.

  ‘What do you want to talk about?’ David asked.

  ‘All sorts of things,’ she said.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Well, let’s see … I understand that Mistress required you to sign some kind of slave contract when you first moved in with her to be her house-slave,’ Jacqui said. ‘Is that right?’

  ‘Yes it is,’ David confirmed. ‘I didn’t have any reservations at all about signing it.’

  ‘No?’ Jacqui sounded sceptical.

  ‘No, honestly,’ David insisted.

  ‘What, signing over your independence completely to another person?’

  ‘That’s right,’ David replied. ‘As far as I’m concerned, as Mistress’s house-slave, contract or no contract, I exist only for her pleasure. I was only too happy, honoured even, to sign a document committing myself to unconditional devotion to Mistress and to live by the rules she wanted to set for me.’

  ‘I can relate to that, the way you explain it,’ Jacqui said, sounding convinced. ‘I’d have signed it too, I reckon, if the opportunity had ever arisen.’

  There was silence for a while in the darkness, and then Jacqui spoke again. ‘Our world is a strange one, don’t you think, David.’ Her tone of voice was reflective.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, its fantasy and reality all mixed together, isn’t it. E
verything is topsy-turvy. You know, pleasure is pain, bondage is release, submission is freedom.’

  ‘It is strange, but wonderful too,’ David said. ‘To my way of thinking a life of subservience to Mistress is a perfect life. I find liberation and happiness in my enslavement to her and worship her completely. I know that when I break one of her rules she will beat me, but, then, I like being punished physically.’

  ‘You just can’t lose!’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that exactly,’ David said, smiling into the darkness. It was a smile he would all too soon be wearing on the other side of his face.

  ‘What made you the way you are, do you think?’ Jacqui asked. ‘Was it how you were brought up, maybe, or some incident in your childhood or adolescence? Were you by any chance brought up as a Catholic?’

  ‘Why bring the Catholic church into it?’

  ‘Well, you know what they say,’ Jacqui replied. ‘Catholicism and filthy sex go together like salt beef and rye!’

  David laughed. Oh what fun he and Jacqui were having – for now. ‘No, I wasn’t brought up a Catholic, wasn’t brought up with any religion, actually.’

  ‘What sort of relationship did you have with your mother?’

  ‘Was I a mother’s boy, you mean?’

  ‘Well … yeah.’

  ‘Not in the traditional sense. I ...’

  ‘Did she ever beat you?’ Jacqui interrupted.

  ‘Ah, the cross-examination continues,’ David said. ‘Yes, she did used to beat me – constantly, if you must know.’

  ‘Ah ha!’

  ‘How about you?’ David asked quickly, anxious to deflect the conversation away from himself when it came to this particular sensitive subject. ‘Are there any Freudian skeletons hanging in your closet?’

  ‘There certainly are,’ Jacqui said. ‘I can trace my masochism back directly to my upbringing.’