Domination Inc. (24 page)

‘I won't do it,' Laurel said firmly. ‘I can't betray my friends.'

Roger shrugged. ‘Ah, well, on your own head be it. Perhaps Clive and I should go and check on what progress Louisa is making with little Cindy. If you change your mind, you only need to shout, and we'll untie you. Until then, I think we should leave you with something that might help to persuade you that you'd be wiser to do as we ask. Clive, would you do the honours?'

‘Certainly.' Clive reached into the drawer of a small cabinet, and took something from it. As he brought it over to where Laurel was sitting, she saw it was a sex toy, of the kind on sale in the more arcane shops in Soho. It was made of plastic and had a central, phallic-shaped protuberance about five inches in length. Around the base, which spread out in a wide circle, was a ring of tiny bumps, which Laurel quickly realised were designed to press against and stimulate the whole of a woman's vulva and her clitoris.

The two men removed the straps that fastened Laurel's legs to the chair, and made her raise her bottom slightly, so that Lawson could insert the bizarre toy. It slid easily into Laurel's wet sex, and was pushed firmly home before her legs were secured in place once more. Clive turned something in the base of the vibrator, which began to throb quickly, stimulating Laurel's already overheated nerve-endings. She bucked and writhed in her seat, unable to fight the rolling tide of orgasm which threatened to engulf her. The last thing she wanted was for Roger and Clive to watch her in the throes of climax, and yet there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

‘You bastards!' she sobbed, as she shuddered and came.

‘They're not new batteries,' Clive said, almost conversationally, ‘but I reckon they could power that thing for at least an hour. You still have the choice, Laurel. Agree to Roger's demands, and we'll switch that thing off. Refuse, and – how many orgasms do you think a woman could have in an hour, Roger?'

Roger Preston glanced at Laurel's resolute face. She was biting her lip as she tried to fight the sensations that were building relentlessly in her once more. ‘I don't know, Clive, but I think we're about to find out.'

 

 

 

 

 

Some sixth sense had warned Cindy she was in trouble as soon as she walked into Clive Lawson's drawing room, but when the door had been swiftly shut and locked behind her, it had been too late to act on her instincts.

Cindy turned round to find herself confronted by a woman who stood almost six feet tall in her highly polished riding boots. She had chestnut hair coiled on her head in an immaculate French pleat, and her make-up was a perfect mask of porcelain foundation, ruby lipstick and thick black kohl, which emphasised her almond-shaped, violet eyes. She was dressed in a crisply laundered white shirt, which was tied under her small, high breasts to reveal a flat, well-toned midriff, and jodhpurs that clung to her long lean legs. In one hand she held the key to the drawing room door; with the other she tapped a riding crop nonchalantly against her thigh. Cindy glanced from the crop to the key to the woman's unsmiling face. So this was Lawson's wife, Louisa.

‘And here was me expecting a cup of Lapsang Souchong and a plate of cucumber sandwiches,' Cindy said flippantly.

‘I was warned you were a cocky little thing,' the woman replied, dropping the key she held into a tall vase of Oriental design before walking slowly towards Cindy.

Warned? Cindy thought to herself. By who? What kind of bizarre set-up was this? She said nothing, determined to let Louisa Lawson see nothing of her puzzlement or fear.

Louisa stopped inches away from Cindy, towering over the little blonde. She put the tip of her riding crop beneath the point of Cindy's chin, and used it to raise her head until their eyes met. ‘Before you leave here,' she said, ‘I'll have taken great pleasure in beating that cockiness out of you.'

‘That's what you think,' Cindy muttered, defiance shining in her blue eyes.

‘Silence!' The crop whistled ominously through the air. Cindy suppressed a shudder; this was probably her least favourite punishment implement, and she suspected that whoever had provided Louisa Lawson with her character assessment had informed her of this, too. Her heart sank as she realised that she and Laurel must have been betrayed by someone at Domination Inc.

‘That's better,' Louisa said, ‘but I don't want to have to tell you again.' She walked in a slow circle around Cindy, as if assessing her. Cindy stared mutely at the locked drawing room door, trying not to think about what might be about to happen to Laurel at the hands of Clive Lawson. It was not uncommon to find couples where both husband and wife were dominant, and she was certain they had fallen into the hands of just such a couple. In other circumstances she might have enjoyed the thought of being put through her paces by someone who showed every sign of being an accomplished dominatrix, but there was a menace in Louisa's demeanour which negated any erotic potential in the situation.

Louisa was back where she had started, staring at Cindy with a look of icy hauteur. She ran the riding crop idly along her palm as she spoke. ‘Undress,' she said sharply.

‘No,' came Cindy's simple, instinctive reply. The crop slashed through the air once more, the tip quivering inches from Cindy's left nipple. She tried not to think how it would feel if the blow had landed.

‘You'll do as you're told,' Louisa warned her, her voice a low hiss. ‘I could shred the clothes from your back with this thing if I had to, but I'm not in the mood for that kind of game. I want you naked, Cindy. So undress.'

‘Or I'll be punished, is that it?' Cindy was determined to spin her resistance out a little longer. ‘So, how come I get the feeling that I'm going to be punished anyway? Damned if you do and damned if you don't, right?'

Louisa Lawson's other hand shot out, slapping Cindy hard on the cheek. Realising she had finally overstepped the mark, Cindy reached for the button at the waistband of her PVC trousers, kicking off her shoes as she did so. Quickly, she unfastened the trousers and let them slither down her legs, aware that the other woman was watching her impatiently.

She caught hold of the bottom hem of her top and hesitated, knowing that when she raised it she would be baring her breasts to Louisa's gaze. When she had displayed herself to the coach full of football supporters earlier in the afternoon it had been a game, teasing them with something she knew they couldn't have. Now the situation was chillingly serious, and Louisa intended to have everything Cindy had to offer. Cindy had the nasty feeling that Laurel's fate, too, was bound up in whether or not she complied, in which case there was only one thing to do. She pulled the top over her head in one smooth movement, and threw it to the floor. Now all she wore was a red lace G-string, and she suspected she would not be allowed to keep that on for much longer.

To her surprise, however, Louisa did not immediately demand that she remove it. Instead, she ordered Cindy to clasp her hands behind her head, the movement lifting the little blonde's breasts and thrusting them outwards. The tip of the riding crop flickered over Cindy's nipples, titillating them into hardness. Damn you, you bitch, Cindy thought, you know this is starting to turn me on. Why don't you just beat me with that thing, get it over with, and then we can find out what all this is really about?

Louisa's next words startled her. ‘My boots are dirty. I want you to clean them, slut – or you know what to expect. On your knees, and keep your hands where they are.'

Cindy quietly knelt at Louisa's feet, the position awkward given that her fingers were still linked behind her head, and pressed her lips to the toe of Louisa's left riding boot. There was not a scrap of dirt on the boot, nothing to suggest that it had ever been worn out of the house, and Cindy wondered whether, despite her outfit, Louisa had ever been near a horse in her life. This was not about cleanliness, however, this was about obedience, and Cindy knew she had to obey. She slicked the point of her tongue over the highly polished leather, laving and worshipping the symbol of Louisa's dominance. When she had covered every inch of the boot with her tongue, having stopped frequently to gather more saliva in her dry mouth, she was obliged to turn her attention to its twin. Her nostrils were filled with the scent of leather and polish and she was growing increasingly thirsty, but she kept on diligently with her task. Eventually, she sat back on her heels, and looked up at Louisa.

The woman glanced down at her scornfully. ‘They'll do, I suppose, but you haven't finished yet.' As she spoke she was pulling down her jodhpurs. She wore no underwear beneath them, and Cindy was presented with the sight of her luxuriant chestnut bush. She moved forward, so that she was straddling Cindy's head with her legs. ‘Pleasure me, slut,' Louisa ordered, parting her thighs more widely.

Cindy hurried to comply, aware that Louisa was still holding the riding crop. Her tongue snaked out and up, making contact with the soft flesh of Louisa's sex. As she licked along the length of the crimson furrow, Louisa's juices began to flow, filling Cindy's mouth with the ripe tangy taste of a sexually aroused woman. Louisa's clitoris peeked out from its protective cowl, fat and juicy, and Cindy took it between her lips, nibbling on it gently. This seemed to please the other woman, who threw her head back and moaned low in her throat. Cindy sucked harder, seeking to coax a climax from Louisa. She was soon rewarded with a guttural cry and a flood of salty liquid in her mouth as Louisa reached orgasm.

Cindy stopped her oral ministrations and sat back on her heels, aware that her mouth and chin were smeared with Louisa's sex juices. It was always exciting to bring another woman to orgasm, and Cindy was aware that the gusset of her G-string was starting to dampen with her own nectar.

‘Did I please you… Mistress?' Cindy asked, the word bitter as aloes in her mouth. But she knew it was what Louisa Lawson wanted to hear.

‘You did your best, I suppose, but there's only one way you can truly please me,' Louisa said. ‘Stand up and go over to that chair.' She indicated a low-backed wooden chair with Queen Ann legs and a padded seat covered with slightly faded damson velvet. Cindy did as she was told. ‘Now bend over it.'

Cindy shuddered, but placed herself in the required position. Everything was building up to the inevitable moment when Louisa beat her.

She was aware of the other woman coming to stand behind her. ‘Spread your legs,' Louisa ordered. As she did so, Cindy was aware of the G-string slipping between her bulging labia, cradling the secret places between them more closely. She knew now why Louisa had not asked her to remove the little garment: there was no real point when it already left her buttocks entirely bare. She suspected Louisa was contemplating them now, imagining how the riding crop would soon be striping their soft white skin. She felt the merest tap on her left cheek as Louisa measured the distance, and then the crop fell.

Fiery pain seared across both buttocks, and Cindy howled. A hand-spanking or a paddling she could have taken stoically almost for as long as it landed, riding the pain until it began to take on that sweet dark undercurrent of pleasure, but the crop was a more brutal, unforgiving instrument. It fell again, and again; three more stripes in quick succession that branded themselves as deeply into Cindy's consciousness as her flesh. Her limbs trembled and her knuckles whitened as she tried to steady herself against the all-consuming waves of agony.

Louisa had not finished with her yet. When the crop fell again it was aimed squarely at the underhang of Cindy's bottom, where the skin was more tender. There were tears in Cindy's eyes, now, but she dared not lessen her grip on the chair to brush them away. There was a long moment when it seemed as though the punishment was over, and then one last stroke fell, slicing across the tops of her thighs. Cindy shrieked so loudly she thought they must have heard her on the coast, but she was answered only with Louisa's low, mocking laugh.

‘Stay where you are,' Louisa said, ‘and keep looking straight ahead.' Cindy did as she was told, hearing what sounded like a drawer being opened, and strange rustling noises. Then Louisa was behind her once more.

This time it was only the woman's long slim fingers which touched Cindy's abused buttocks, and they were covered in a cool, soothing balm. Louisa worked quickly and gently over the weals she had raised on Cindy's flesh, the cream taking some of the heat away. Her touch was assured, almost loving, and Cindy knew that if she had been required to, she would have called this woman ‘Mistress' gladly, and despised herself for being broken to another's will so easily.

There was the soft, sucking sound of Louisa dipping her fingers into the pot, but no more cream was applied. Cindy wanted to turn her head and find out what was going on, but she knew that was not advisable. So she waited, and when Louisa's fingers hooked into the waistband of her soaking wet G-string and pulled it down until it was around her knees, she braced herself for whatever was about to happen.

The next thing she felt was something solid pressing at the entrance to her sex. It had the domed head of a fully erect penis, but the cool alien hardness of plastic. The greasy lubrication that was enabling it to enter so easily must have been that last dollop of cream Louisa had taken from the pot. Without a second thought, Cindy splayed her legs more widely to let the dildo slide between her pussy lips. It lodged securely within her, and then was thrust deeper, in one swift movement.