“Before they all died off…” Deborah said, vaguely trying to calculate how long it must have been since these rooms had been used. “So why aren’t you using this place?”
“Oh, there are plenty of other fabulous chambers squirreled away in this building. It’s quite the labyrinth of secrets. Besides, we only just found the keys.”
Deborah continued her study of the area casually swiping dust from the burnished furniture. Beautiful. Unable to resist, she carefully grasped the little brass handles on a drawer and pulled. It caught on the stiff runners and Deborah had to jiggle it from left to right until it finally released and opened. She managed to trap the giggle of delight in her throat just before it was audible to the governor. Reaching in, Deborah ran her fingertips over the stout handle and drilled out flat of a paddle. My, my, she thought, and slid her grip underneath it, lifting it carefully out. It was a real quality piece. Solid mahogany with carefully beveled edges—the spanking end had been worn to a perfect smoothness through what must have been years of usage. She smiled, and turned, keeping the instrument behind her back. A wicked feeling—the kind that was only induced by the governor’s presence, it seemed—washed over her and made her stand a little taller on her heels.
The governor was standing in the middle of the room, staring. Electricity crackled in the motes between them and Deborah licked her lips.
“So this is where I am to punish bad women.”
“Yes.” The governor stood still, her breathing the only thing that gave away her fear or excitement or both. It turned Deborah on. To know that this woman wanted to be dominated made her grit her teeth with aching arousal.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” she hissed, and watched, stunned, as the governor’s posture changed to that of meek obedience. “If you are not going to come here, I will come and get you.”
Heat spread from her abdomen to her sex and throbbed there as she imagined her move the second before she did it. She strode up to the governor and grabbed her by the hair at the nape, just as she had in the lab. Her breasts arched up as she yanked back. Deborah couldn’t resist and bent in to flick her tongue over the tightening nipple through her blouse. Wetness from her tonguing spread through the fabric, darkening it and making the lace of the governor’s bra visible beneath. Slowly, Deborah took her other hand from behind her back and lifted the paddle up into the governor’s field of vision.
A low groan emanated from the governor’s throat, and Deborah snapped her grip sharply. “Silence.”
She stood straight and began to pull the governor toward the chaise lounge. It was a thrilling feeling to be in charge here. Even though Deborah knew she was still the prisoner, to have this control here and now was a thing to be relished. The governor’s shins pressed into the chaise longue and Deborah released her.
“Lean over and grip the back of the chair.”
The governor did so obediently and Deborah let herself gaze at the rounded buttocks pressing out through the woman’s skirt. To her delight, she could see the tracing of suspender clips and stocking tops. How long had it been since she’d seen those?
Taking her place behind the woman, Deborah kicked her feet apart, enjoying the sight of her calves flexing and tensing in her high heels. How delicious. Placing her hands on the delightful rump, she rocked the woman from side to side and back and forth until she was satisfied with her position, then stood to the side.
The governor stiffened as Deborah brought the paddle up. She paused. Then heard it cut the air and smack the governor’s ass with a satisfying slap. The governor rocked sharply forward, her grip tightening and her knuckles whitening as she anticipated the next blow. Deborah struck again, harder this time, and was amazed at the effect it was having on her own sex. As the governor yelped in pain, Deborah’s pussy clenched and released in excitement. She imagined the governor’s pussy, all puffy and red with the heat spreading from her burning ass.
Five lighter strokes and the governor was mewling in ecstasy—or was it agony? Whichever one, it had Deborah fully aroused and her clit was pulsing with red-hot, feral desire. She dropped the paddle, stood behind the governor, and slowly began to lift her skirt. Gripping the hem, she allowed her fingernails to dig in just enough to elicit another yelp. The nylon was sheer and she couldn’t wait to reveal the stocking tops and snappers. The hem inched up. A line of striking white flesh was exposed. Deborah’s breath caught as she hitched the skirt up a little more. The governor began to rock and twist slowly from side to side, enticing her to go further.
“Stay still,” she ordered, and the motion stopped.
The skirt was now just at the crease of her buttocks, and Deborah stood back to peek into the dip between. A dark flurry of hair shocked her slightly. No panties. Deborah couldn’t resist and slid both hands through, each cupping the top of a thigh as if set in a reverse prayer. She spread the flesh to get a better glimpse of the full, thick lips between. Pouting and twitching, the governor’s pussy glistened with want, nestled in her thick bush. Deborah pried the thighs apart further to see the lips also part with a mouth-watering sticky sound. What a stunning sight. To actually witness the arousal of a woman through sight alone was an incredible turn on. Until now, Deborah had no idea how visual the physiology was.
Pulling her hands out, she smiled as the quivering flesh smacked softly back together. She continued her journey, teasing the fabric up and over the governor’s ass, and her eyes widened as the soft, white skin changed to angry, puffy red flesh, searing with agonizing arousal. It was a very sexy sight. Deborah smoothed her cool hands over the burning buttocks and smiled as the governor winced, then strained backward into her palms. Deborah lifted her hand and slapped the governor hard just below where the red started. She yelped.
“More!” the governor yelled, and Deborah obliged, smacking her hard, flesh on flesh again and again.
The governor let go of the chaise longue with one hand and pulled her blouse open, freeing her breasts from over the top of her lacy bra. Deborah could have come at the sight of her pretty tits swinging in time with the spanking. The governor held a breast in one hand and Deborah reached around, grabbing the other, and squeezed and rolled the nipple while smacking the woman’s bare ass.
It was heavenly, and Deborah wished she were sitting on her lover’s cock as her pussy yearned and ached for attention. Slowing her pace, she began to massage the woman’s ass between strikes, molding and smoothing, squeezing and separating her cheeks, breathing in the sweet, musky fragrance of her arousal. The governor placed both hands on the back of the chair and Deborah let go of her breast.
“I’m going to fuck you with my fingers now,” she whispered, and the governor’s body went slack, but just for a second. Deborah reached up to her mouth, forcing two fingers between the woman’s teeth, and stroked her cheeks and tongue, making the governor suckle her. “That’s it, that’s it. That’s what I want from your pussy. That’s what I’m going to do to it.” The governor groaned again, and Deborah slapped her sharply on the behind. “Silence.”
As the governor quietly suckled with her mouth, Deborah slowly began to insert her middle finger into her swollen, hungry cunt. It was hot. And so wet. It was Deborah’s turn to stifle a moan as the governor’s pussy welcomed her in greedily. Her index finger joined in the action and her thrusts mirrored those in the woman’s mouth. The woman began to gnaw and suck with her mouth and Deborah thrust harder into her pussy. She managed to reach down and under to the woman’s clit with her pinkie, and slid it back and forth in time over the slippery, hard nub. The fleshy walls tightened around her fingers and liquid engulfed her digits, oozing down over the finger that worked the bud. Twitching built deep within the woman and the butterfly clench and release was unbelievable. Deborah pulled her fingers free from the governor’s mouth and began to massage her luscious tits again. The fleshy mounds swayed and slapped together gently—another layer of incredible sensation for Deborah.
The governor groaned and writhed back i
nto Deborah’s hand. She released the back of the chair again and clamped Deborah’s pinkie onto her clit with all of her fingers. Deborah thought her finger might snap as the woman humped and spasmed and rode it. One final push and buck and the governor slumped to the floor. And Deborah, taking in the sight of the freshly fucked woman, with her spanked ass exposed and her blouse disheveled with her tits spilling out, thought it was the hottest fucking thing she’d ever seen.
“So is that how you expect me to rehabilitate these bad, bad women?” she asked, still staring down at the panting heap of a human at her feet.
“Yes, that is exactly how.”
* * * *
Heat and steam felt like it was suffocating him and Marcus came to with a jolt.
“What the…” He was in a hot, foamy bath with several very beautiful naked women crouched around the tub, all washing parts of him with cloths and sponges. They were humming an ethereal tune together and Marcus wondered for a moment if he was still alive.
“Shh.” One of the women slid a long-fingered hand over his forehead and studied the still-aching wound. Her brow furrowed a little as she inspected it and Marcus pulled his head away. “Just be still now.” Her velveteen voice soothed him back into relaxation and he found the fight had left him.
Hands and fingers kneaded and worked his aching body, teasing the knots from his muscles and pushing him further into woozy abandon. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his conscience told him to shrug this off and get up, demand to know why he felt so battered and bruised, but the more immediate part of him gave in to the angelic whispers and feathery touches.
Toes, arches, heels; his attention was taken to his feet, wonderfully massaged and tingling with glorious sensation. Sharp nails teased the hair follicles up his inner thighs, raising goose bumps. A palm cupped his balls and massaged them lightly at first, then more powerfully squeezing and tugging gently, making him stiffen.
He decided to take his punishment like a man and lifted his buttocks slightly to allow the woman better purchase around him.
“That’s better now, isn’t it?” That voice, that sweet, soft voice. It was comforting and delicious, familiar almost.
Fingers wrapped around his full sex and slowly, slowly rocked up and down. Marcus groaned from his throat. It was a weird place to be; the arms and hands smoothing up and down his body caused the water to swoop and dip around him, giving attention to every single part of him. His weight was carried on the water and he began to drift away on the expert touch of the woman’s grip, tightening and releasing over and over in an expert milking. Marcus’s balls constricted, pulling up into his body slightly and the root of his cock began to twitch and spasm.
Words and voices snaked and wound through the steam, the strangely familiar sounds comforting and disorientating him. Marcus sank back and slid down in the bath, lifting his hips into the woman’s expert caress. He wanted it. He wanted the sweet oblivion of climax to soothe his tired spirit. He wrapped his fingers underneath himself and gripped the flesh of his own buttocks, squeezing and lifting and spreading. More soapy fingers joined in the rhythm and Marcus bit down into his lip as the delicate tip of a fingernail pressed into the lathered entrance of his ass. He clenched and tightened, panicking a little, and began to open his eyes. Suddenly all the palms and hands smoothed and softened him up again, quickly from head to toe before taking up the position again, more insistent this time.
Marcus heard the sexy, reassuring whisperings and melted into them, slowly and tentatively opening himself up to the experience. The probing digit eased the tension from him as the milking action brought him further to the peaking point. His cock was rock hard, and as he let out a long breath the finger working his ass penetrated him fully. He convulsed and ejected a thick stream of come through the hot water and out onto the foamy surface. The finger in his ass kept thrusting and stroking, making the sensation last and last until he thought he could buck and twitch no more.
“That’s it, that’s it.” Whispering voices drifted in and through him. “You’re ours now, you’re ours.” The rhythm and pace were soporific and lulled him into a soft, satisfied doze.
Something pricked at his conscience, far away. He knew this was it. There would be no escape now. His submission would be the one thing that would keep him free to roam the unseen planes of existence to find his love. The thought brought with it some kind of comfort—the kind that came from knowing he was physically helpless. He accepted that now. He could understand that as his truth. But there was something else.
Trying to cast aside the ominous feeling that was nagging away at him, Marcus sank again into the still-warm bathwater. He could sense the women taking their leave, and as the water rose to ear level, one whispering voice, barely audible over the thick steam and shuffling, stung through his post-coital haze.
“Good night, Thorn…”
Chapter 23
Della James, known to all as ‘the governor’, poured herself a cup of coffee from her cherished pot—one of the treasures she’d uncovered from snooping around the prison. As she took a long sip, letting the bitter liquid ooze down her throat, she mused on how serendipitous the past few weeks had been.
To have Deborah Regan shipped to her facility was a stroke of sheer luck in the first place, but what a find she’d turned out to be. A born dominatrix who was willing to take on her plan. For whatever reason, Deborah seemed to use sex as some sort of spiritual quest. Like it was essential to her survival—and was she good? Della sighed and her head fell back as she swallowed, remembering the hot sting of the spanking Deborah had administered. She trod her heels up and down in the thick rug, making her hips roll and buttocks tense against the fabric of her skirt. Heat still spread through her ass and she’d left her panties off, relishing the still-damp naked feeling as she went about her business.
Putting down her cup, she sat behind her desk and took her underwear from the drawer, pulling them on over her heels and stockings. She lifted her behind and winced a little as the knicker elastic caught on her savaged flesh. While the nakedness was thrilling, she wanted to hold the heat, moisture, and pain in for longer. She smoothed the skirt back down over her thighs.
And how incredible that a new inmate had been sent on the very day Della wanted to share the plan with Deborah. The arrival of the timid woman from a nearby farm had been perfect timing. Della was impatient to start on her rehabilitation regime and had questioned the woman for suitability on arrival.
“Your employers want you back quickly,” she had told the newest arrival first thing that very morning. “Are you prepared to help me make that so?”
The woman, named Katja, had lifted her head, defiance and rage burning in her eyes. “Yes,” she had replied, and something in the way her glare sizzled made Della believe she meant it.
She’d explained the punishment procedure and Katja had merely shrugged at the mention of pain. Perfect. Della hadn’t wanted to use any of her current inmates as rumors would quickly spread and she wanted to make sure of all parties’ compliance before she began in earnest.
A place in parliament alongside the Archmatria was what she sought, and getting the best rehabilitation record in the country was one way to earn points. Who knew, maybe one day she could find a way to give Deborah the research facility she needed, not a pretend playroom to get her on side. Through it all, Della did actually have a dream of finding a cure, but she was also astute enough to know that it could only be done through getting in with those who currently held the power, by whatever means she could.
Shuffling on her seat to both ease and inflame her rump, Della gave herself a self-satisfied mental pat on the back. She’d keep this Katja in solitary so nothing would get out for now, and hopefully the experiment would pay off soon.
* * * *
Deborah had spent the rest of the day dragging every item of material that wasn’t pinned down through to the lab and given it a shake out of the one window that opened. Bars on the outside impeded the tas
k but it was something that took her full attention, allowing her mind a welcome rest. She forced a fur throw through the space and watched how it flapped and fluttered in the breeze, a beacon of freedom. Dust poured out into the afternoon sun like a cloud of fairy powder, catching the light and glinting like glitter. It was lovely. She even hummed a tune as she worked, surprised at how light the fur was, and clambered higher onto the work bench to reach out. It was a beauty. Red fox tones shone in the sun and Deborah felt her heart soar at the memory of the squirrels she and her lover had eaten around the campfire with Birch and Hazel.
The thought of inhabiting a lush, comfortable room must have brought renewed compassion for the couple who betrayed them and Deborah was surprised to find herself exploring their motives. Maybe they’d been blackmailed? Or paid? Or maybe the presence of her and Marcus had compromised the safety of the camp more than they’d anticipated. Whatever the reason, Deborah felt the anger she’d harbored against the couple diminish and ebb away along with the motes dispersing from the fur.
When the dust stopped falling out, Deborah started to pull the rug back in. A scratch from the window frame made her jump and release her grip just enough to let go of the beautiful fur. Her heart sank as she watched it slink to the earth on the outside of the prison. It lay there, helpless, as the gentle breeze ruffled the pelt, making her feel an overwhelming sadness. Maybe she would ask Jane to retrieve it for her. Or maybe she would just leave it to languish in the sun as a reminder to keep seeking freedom.
Four hours later, Deborah bounced onto her fresh, lush bed. The overhead light had sputtered out ages ago, so she sat in the flickering glow of candles brought through from the ‘punishment chamber’. Bringing one of the candles close, she sat cross-legged among the blankets and pillows and opened the notebook. Life had dealt her a very odd hand and she wanted to blank it out for a while and perhaps find answers in Marcus’s words.
Taking Flight Page 18