Mistress Extreme

Published by Xcite Books Ltd – 2011

Copyright © Alex Jordaine 2011

ISBN 9781908006936

The right of Alex Jordaine to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite 11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY

 

To Mistress G,
always and forever
=

‘The degradation which characterises the state into which you plunge him by punishing him pleases, arouses and delights him. Deep down he enjoys having gone so far as to deserve being treated in this way.'
Marquis de Sade

‘And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.'
Anais Nin

David Alexander stood in the orange glow of the street light and stared at the door entry panel to the property before him. It was a three-storey Regency house bounded by metal railings. The solid front door of the house was framed by two pillars and approached by wide stone steps. This elegant dwelling was in a quiet and graceful part of Brighton, the vibrant seaside city on the south coast of England that had been David's home for most of his 35 years. It was a warm night and the air was mild, just a slight salty breeze that had blown in off the Channel.

David felt a knot in his stomach and an ache in his groin and a confusion of emotions in his mind. What on earth was he doing here at Isabella Stern's address at this time of night? What was he doing here at all for that matter? He barely knew the woman, for God's sake, although he knew enough to be aware that she was married. That in itself ought to have deterred him from coming here but it hadn't. He knew that she was heavily into kinky sex too. That should have deterred him as well, shouldn't it?
Shouldn't it?

David felt dog tired all of a sudden, drained of all strength, and sick of himself for being so weak-willed as to have come here in the first place. He felt frightened too, couldn't stop himself from trembling. But it wasn't too late. All he needed to do was to go back to his car and drive home, nothing could be simpler. He was sorely tempted to do that too, went so far as to feel in his jacket pocket for his car keys. But he didn't pull them out. Instead his fingers came out of his pocket as if of their own accord and punched at the entry panel. And that was when the die was cast; that was when David's fate was irreversibly sealed.

What if? he used to say to himself afterwards. What if he had known then by means of some strange quirk of chronology what was going to happen to him? What would he have done? Turned around and got in the car and gone home again? Because if ever there had been a point at which he could have changed things it had been when he'd been gazing at that entrance panel, trying to decide whether to go home or to press to request entry. But “What ifs” didn't help at all, they were irrelevant. The fact is that he did what he did and from that point on he was lost.

The next few moments passed as if in a dream and suddenly David found himself in a big, high-ceilinged living room filled with pristine antiques, rare china and fine oil paintings. The room was very imposing but then so too was the imperious raven haired beauty in high stiletto-heeled boots and a skin-tight cat suit who had let David into the property and before whom he was now standing.

That exquisite black leather outfit accentuated Isabella Stern's shapely form exceptionally well, moulding itself beautifully to her perfect curves. Indeed everything about Isabella was perfectly formed. She was truly stunning to behold and conveyed such a powerful image of dark desirability and dominance that it made David's blood race through his veins. Her lustrous shoulder length hair was jet-black. Her large shining eyes had a strikingly Asiatic cast and, just as strikingly, were as black as coal. She had luminescent white skin by contrast, high cheekbones and a wide, sensuous mouth. Her sleek, exquisitely shaped body moved with a feline insolence, cat-like indeed in the tight leather cat suit that clung to it like a second skin.

She had an extraordinary presence too, a regal bearing, a poise and elegance that immediately commanded respect. The expression she was wearing on her face right then was cold and cruel, though. In fact she looked incredibly cruel. In truth, Isabella looked at that instant essentially what she was: a predatory bitch-goddess, an extraordinarily sadistic femme fatale. David couldn't possibly have known the amazing depths of Isabella's sadism and depravity, not then. But he did know that she scared him to death … and excited him immensely. A sudden shiver of fear ran through him and connected to his cock, giving him an erection that pressed with painful urgency against the crotch of his black jeans.

Isabella hadn't said anything when she'd let David in, had just led him through to her luxurious living room. She remained silent now. As for David, he
couldn't
say anything, couldn't stop shaking either. He knew instinctively and without doubt that what was about to happen to him was going to change his life forever, that he was going to emerge from this encounter a different man.

Isabella stared at David, her heavy-lidded eyes hypnotic, her lips so sensuous that he yearned to kiss them but, of course, he didn't dare do any such thing. His heart was beating fast and he felt barely able to breathe. The silence in the room became deafening but still she didn't say a word, nor did he.

Then Isabella did finally speak. ‘Strip naked for me,' she commanded, staring into his blue eyes. David immediately obeyed, taking off all his clothing in double-quick time. He tried to control his shaking, but couldn't. He tried to control his sexual excitement too, but couldn't do that either. His cock was rigidly erect now and pulsing constantly. Isabella gave him a slow up-and-down look, her sinful black eyes moving hotly over his body as he waited, waited for her first touch. But she was in no hurry. Her eyes lingered on his skin, disturbing and exciting him more and more. She strode round him in a slow circle, seeming to examine every detail of his fine, toned body, until she'd completed her circle and was standing in front of him again.

Still Isabella didn't touch David, though, simply kept looking at him. But what a look! Her shining eyes were as intense as search lights, and David was now irrevocably caught in their beam as she gazed directly into his eyes. Nobody had ever looked at him like that before. He could feel Isabella's eyes boring into him, tormenting him with desire. His body cried out for her touch, couldn't stop shaking. But still she kept staring and staring into his eyes. And that piercing, hypnotic stare had the strangest effect on David. It made him feel as if he was starting to be transformed right there and then into another person, not himself.

When David thought back, he was sure that it was at this point in his visit that Isabella had begun to hypnotize him or brainwash him or whatever the hell it was she'd gone on to do. He remembered that she had only been gazing at him in that amazingly intense way for a short while before he got the weird sensation that he was beginning to be transformed. Then something happened to the focussing mechanism of his own eyes. Everything blurred and disappeared for what seemed like only a moment. But when his vision reasserted itself and David readjusted his eyes to the reality of the world, that world seemed to have shifted on its axis and he was no longer the man he'd once been but was someone else instead.

At last Isabella averted her hypnotic gaze from David's eyes. He took the opportunity to glance down, to reassure himself that he was still there, to check whether she had exchanged him in some way for somebody else. It was the same body he'd arrived in. But that didn't help somehow because he felt different inside his own skin.

Isabella reached out her hand in the direction of David, or the person who resembled him as closely as if he was his identical twin. She moved her fingers lightly and with agonising slowness over his mop of dark hair and down the cheeks of his finely sculpted face to the smooth, muscular contours of his arms and his chest. David could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage. He could hear his breathing coming faster as Isabella moved her hand tantalisingly further south before taking hold of his erection and squeezing it. That touch was like an electric jolt; it made him gasp, nearly climax.

Isabella slapped his cock away from her dismissively. ‘Kneel before me,' she demanded, her voice as hard as a hammer hitting a nail, and down on to his knees David went without even thinking. He felt faint with excitement as he waited for her next move; he was still shaking. His heart was racing. His breathing had become even more laboured. Isabella moved behind David again so he couldn't see her. Then he couldn't see anything as he felt the soft leather blindfold cover his eyes and felt Isabella buckle it into place behind his head. Then nothing. He could see nothing, could hear nothing but the uneven rhythm of his own breathing. David didn't know where Isabella was now. He didn't know where he was really, felt as if he'd been transported to some strange erotic limbo land.

But David knew where he had been less than an hour ago when he'd got Isabella's call. He had been in his house and fresh out of the shower. He'd picked up the phone on the second ring and held it to his ear. ‘Are you on your own?' she'd said and he had replied that he was, asking what he could do for her.

‘Get yourself over to my place now,' had been Isabella's reply. Then the line had gone dead.

And here he was at her place, naked and blindfolded and on his knees, shaking like a leaf, breathing heavily ... and more sexually aroused than he'd ever been in his entire life.

David was shaking more than ever now, could feel spasms of desire shuddering through his body. His breathing was short and shallow, coming in ragged bursts from his chest. His cock was steely-hard and throbbing fit to burst.

Isabella! How he wished he could see her, hear her voice, feel her touch on his skin, this woman he barely knew but to whom, in some inexplicable way, he now felt he belonged.

Time stretched like infinity and all remained complete silence from Isabella, not a word from her, not a sound. Isabella didn't speak to David, didn't touch him, didn't seem to even move or breathe; it was eerie.

Then he heard her moving behind him and everything in him stopped: his heart, his breathing, his thinking even – that is, until he felt her fingers on the back of his neck. Then David's imagination suddenly went into complete overdrive. What in hell's name was Isabella going to do next? Trail her fingers down his back before – what? – hand-spanking him? Or would she take a belt to him instead, or a whip or a paddle? Would she beat him really hard, beat him black and blue?
Ohmigod!

But Isabella did none of these things. Instead she brought her fingers up from David's neck to the back of his head and unbuckled his blindfold. ‘Get dressed and go home now,' she said, her voice icy cold. ‘When I want to see you again, I'll call you. Don't ever call me.'

And that was that. It was over.

In what seemed like no more than the blink of an eye David found himself back on the street, walking like an automaton towards his car in the sulphur glow of the street lights. Isabella Stern had done nothing to him,
nothing
. Yet already he'd started waiting for her next call, knowing that he would be unable to put her out of his mind for even a moment until he heard from her again.

David felt that he belonged to Isabella now. She could do anything she wanted to him. He would obey all her instructions, follow her anywhere, submit to any of her demands, no matter how extreme they might be, no matter how sadistic. But this was all complete madness, wasn't it; madness heaped upon madness. Where were these demented thoughts coming from? David simply had no idea. Isabella had done nothing to him. She had hardly touched him – physically, that is; but mentally, oh dear, that was a very different matter.

David didn't understand the dramatic, the profound, the sinisterly bewitching effect Isabella had had on him, didn't understand it at all. It terrified and aroused him in equal measure; he was still rock-hard when he climbed into his car. Isabella Stern was some sort of demonic force he was powerless to resist, was that it? Or had she hypnotized him in some way, put him under her dark spell? Or was it a perverse combination of the two? It was all thoroughly irrational, this distorted, demented way of thinking, utter lunacy. But if anyone had tried to tell David that, he wouldn't have taken any notice.

There was no logical explanation for why he should feel the way he did but David knew – just knew – that he belonged to Isabella now, belonged to her completely. It wasn't a rational thing at all. It was a visceral thing; he felt it in his gut, felt it to the very depth of his being. He felt it more deeply than he'd ever felt anything before. He yearned – no
ached
– to see her again.