Mistress Extreme (16 page)

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Whip cock.

Whip cock.

Caroline then detached David from the ceiling chains and led him over to the horizontal torture chair where she told him to lie on his back. Her fingers working very quickly indeed, she strapped his wrists behind his head and his legs wide apart.

David's whole body now ached with extreme pain yet was permeated as well with extreme pleasure as Caroline continued to do her very worst. She masturbated him again, her hand moving up and down the length of his stiffness quicker and quicker.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Pull cock.

Pull cock.

Caroline leant forward so that she could suck David's cock, rounding her lips and closing them around his hardness, taking it into her mouth, pressing against the head of his shaft with her tongue. She pushed herself further forward so that she could pull more of his length into her mouth. The up-and-down movement of her head went ever faster as she sucked his cock harder and harder.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Suck cock.

Suck cock.

While continuing to suck David's cock voraciously, Caroline pinched his nipples savagely hard. He felt great pain; he felt great pleasure. The clock was ticking; her mouth was sucking.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Suck cock.

Suck cock.

If he could just hold out, David told himself desperately, if he could just hold out, if he could … but he couldn't any more and finally reached the end of the line. He climaxed convulsively, pumping out great surging waves of come deep into Caroline's throat, the sound of that accursed clock even then still ticking in his head.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

But had he made it? He looked over at Isabella. She looked at the clock and back at David, her expression betraying nothing. Finally, she said, ‘Thirty five minutes.' He'd made it all right – just barely. He was the winner, the “Last slave standing”.

A long moment passed. Then David took it upon himself to speak to Isabella, he simply had to. ‘I wonder if I could ask you to do me a real favour, Mistress,' he said, his voice panting, his breathing laboured.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

‘What might that be, slave?' she asked, her face still unreadable.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

‘Could you please, please,
please
take the battery out of that clock!'

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Kill
clock.

Kill
clock.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Ki
…

Shortly after that hard-won triumph things changed radically for David, changed more radically than he could have dared dream possible. The next time Isabella phoned, it was to tell him she wouldn't be phoning him again. His first reaction was to gasp in horror, his stomach lurching. David began to protest but Isabella immediately cut him short, telling him to let her finish what she'd started to say. There would be no need for her to phone him again, she went on. He had proved himself a good and loyal slave and had responded well to all the challenges she had thrown at him, not least that last one. Now the ‘Last slave standing' could have his well deserved reward.

Isabella informed David that she wanted him to move into her Brighton home and be her full time house-slave. In this capacity he would be bound by a number of rules: He must, of course, continue to always call her “Mistress” and should avoid speaking to her unless directly addressed. He would be required to remain naked at all times in the house or its secluded rear garden unless she instructed him otherwise. He would be expected to clean her shoes and boots to a perfect, mirror-like finish, and undertake a whole range of other menial tasks for her to a similar high standard: cooking, cleaning, gardening, and so on. He was never to masturbate unless she had given her express permission for him to do so, Isabella emphasised.

She said that he would also be required to sign a slave contract, a copy of which she had just that minute e-mailed to him. Isabella told David to click on his e-mail and scan the contents of the agreement right there and then, which he did. The contract contained the following conditions, by which, the document made clear, David would be required to conscientiously abide all the time:

1. I will serve and please Isabella Stern, my Mistress and owner. I will always obey any instruction Mistress gives me without question, without fail and to the very best of my abilities.
   
2. Above everything else my first priority will always be to please Mistress, my most earnest desire being that she should find me pleasing in all that I do, whether I am in her presence or not.
   
3. I worship Mistress totally.
   
4. Mistress's power fills me with the utmost wonder and awe.
   
5. Both my body and my mind are entirely the property of Mistress.
   
6. I am always under the control of Mistress, whether or not I am in her presence, ready and willing to please her at any time, anywhere and under any circumstances, regardless of who may be present.
   
7. My place is kneeling before Mistress, for it is the greatest privilege and honour imaginable to be her house-slave
   

After allowing David enough time to peruse the document, Isabella gave him a couple of final pieces of information before telling him to put his affairs in order, lock up his house and get himself over to her place with minimum delay.

As her house-slave, she said, he would have his own modest quarters in her home. These would have a small en-suite bathroom and would be furnished with the bare essentials: a bed, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. But such details were of little consequence, she went on to advise. This was because, apart from carrying out the various menial tasks he'd have to undertake, he could expect to spend pretty much the rest of his waking hours in her dungeon where she intended to discipline him constantly. Isabella proved only too true to her word. It was in that dungeon also that she and David finally became lovers. Of sorts 

Isabella, her face pale and luminous in the half-light of the dungeon, was a vision of loveliness in black leather. She was wearing a choker, a bra that merely framed her magnificent breasts, leaving them completely exposed; a tiny slit-sided skirt underneath which she was naked, and very high-heeled boots that had been polished to a gleaming shine – by David of course. He was standing before her, nude but for a leather head harness including a blue ball gag, a slave's collar, and wrist and ankle cuffs; his cock was rigidly erect.

‘Hold your hands above your head,' Isabella demanded before squeezing his nipples, tightening fingers and thumbs over them so hard that it made his eyes water.

‘You're my whipping boy, David,' she said next, her tone of voice mocking. ‘So, what better place for you to be than over the whipping bench.' Isabella told him to bend over the bench and he moved to obey, laying his belly over its top.

The dominatrix picked up a leather whip and began lashing David's back and rear with great energy, sometimes using downward motions of the whip and sometimes upward motions. She paused for a short while and the acute pain David was suffering reduced slightly to a hard insistent throbbing that echoed the throbbing of his erect cock.
Maybe she's about to stop
, he thought.

‘What's that I sense you thinking, slave?' Isabella asked. ‘You need me to be even more vicious. Is that right? Is that what you want?' David nodded his reply uncertainly. Yet it was true, God knows; there never was anything more true.

Isabella really went for it then, pulled out all the stops. She switched to a cat o'nine tails and used it to whip David mercilessly. On and relentlessly on she punished him, stroke after searing stroke, until the ferocious pain he was suffering caused him to sob in agony beneath his gag.

‘Oh dear, I appear to have broken your skin in several places,' Isabella said in a tone of blatantly bogus sympathy as she examined David's severely punished rear. ‘You must be in considerable pain, is that so?' He bowed his head in response and continued sobbing beneath his gag.

‘No matter,' she announced cheerfully. ‘No gain without pain.'

Isabella then allowed David to get up from the whipping bench but immediately pulled him down to a kneeling position again, this time on to the dungeon floor itself. She did this by yanking on the chain to his nipple clamps, causing sharp pain to burn into his flesh.

Next Isabella got on to her knees herself in front of David, saying, ‘Let's take this thing off.' She removed his combined head harness and ball gag. She then stood up before him, her legs apart. ‘Worship my sex,' she commanded. ‘Go on, lick my pussy.'

David had done this very many times before – as a masturbatory fantasy. This was the first time Isabella had ever permitted him to do it for real and he felt both profoundly honoured and immensely excited. He kissed his way sensuously up Isabella's thighs before pushing his tongue into the sticky wetness of her sex. David started to lap at her pussy and it shuddered against his mouth as he did so, just as he'd fantasised so many times that it would.

Isabella then pushed him back, grabbing his shoulders and making him lie on his back on the dungeon floor. She raked her fingers over his smooth, hard body, squeezing his haunches, rubbing his cock.

But there was more, much more to come: the honour of all honours. Because then Isabella straddled him, pressing her groin to his and grabbing his arms and pinning them back above his head. She moved her hips, fitting them around his hardness, finding the spot for her. She pushed down to take him inside her. David let out a short throaty cry, looking up at his magnificent Mistress, wide eyed and exposed and dizzy with lust.

David let himself be taken by the urgency of Isabella's movements, possessed by her hunger. He felt her grind into him, felt deliciously helpless as she fucked him, her hips jacking and moving fluidly. She gripped his arms more tightly, and pushed her weight forward. He felt as if he was going to climax at any moment.

But there he couldn't have been more wrong. ‘You are not to climax,' Isabella said emphatically and then her thrusts became frenzied as she built towards a noisy, juddering orgasm ... and he didn't.

‘That will be all for now, slave,' Isabella announced abruptly soon after climaxing. She climbed off David's prone form and looked down on him through half-drawn lids. ‘I will be requiring your sexual services many more times than this today. So I won't be allowing you to come until I'm fully sated – and that won't be for some while yet, I can assure you of that.'

‘Yes, Mistress,' David replied, thinking frantically: How could she do this to me? His erotic arousal had by this time become agonizing, desperate. His erection, now steely hard, was pulsing fit to explode at any moment.

‘Oh, poor slave,' Isabella said. ‘Are you absolutely dying to climax?'

‘Yes, Mistress,' David replied urgently. ‘I really am.'

After a gloating pause Isabella responded. ‘Well, you can't,' she said. ‘Oh, and by the way, when I do finally allow you to come –
if
I do – it won't be inside me. You will never be allowed to climax inside me, never.' And with that she swept out of the dungeon, leaving David to suffer in silence until her next sadistic visit.

He would have her all to himself again when that happened, though, and that wondrous prospect made his acute sexual frustration bearable to him. No, scratch that. It made it a lot more than bearable. It made it positively blissful in its way – once he had calmed down slightly, that is.

But ignorance is bliss. Little did David know that trouble was just around the corner, big trouble. Her name was Jacqui Walsh. David always blamed himself afterwards for what happened with Jacqui. But he couldn't blame himself for how it started because he wasn't even there.

‘In order to know virtue, we must first acquaint ourselves with vice.'
Marquis de Sade

It was just starting to get dark when Isabella got back to her hotel and re-entered its lobby. The dominatrix was feeling a bit flat. It was all something of an anticlimax. Here she was in what surely must be the dreariest town this side of the Downs where she had spent most of the day in one-on-one negotiations with the notoriously awkward owner of a small company that made leather BDSM items of an outstandingly high quality. Isabella's idea had been that she would personally negotiate with the owner on his own territory, so to speak, a deal that would give
La Fetishista
sole distribution rights for all his company's products. The tactic had worked perfectly and, after some predictably hard bargaining with the irksome little man, they'd shaken on the deal. The lawyers could do the rest; the real work had been done.

Isabella knew from the outset that it was going to be an exhausting day and so it had proved to be, but she had covered all the bases when planning for it. She'd considered whether to drive homewards to Brighton at the end of what was bound to be a hard grind of a day or, alternatively, to chill-out for a while, stay the night at what looked to be the best of the small supply of local hotels and return home refreshed first thing the next morning. The latter option had seemed the better one and Isabella had arranged to stay the night at the hotel at the same time that she'd arranged to meet for detailed discussions with the pain-in-the-arse owner of the leather goods company.

She was beginning to think she'd made the wrong decision, though, as she contemplated the hours ahead. Here she was stuck in this grey, anonymous hotel in an equally grey, anonymous town. She thought enviously of her husband, currently living it up in New York with the twins; the contrast was like chalk and cheese. She thought too of David waiting patiently for her at home: naked – definitely; erect or semi-erect – quite probably, knowing him; masturbating – definitely not. He wasn't allowed to masturbate unless she gave her express permission and she had done no such thing.

For a moment Isabella considered changing her plans and going home that night, back to her horny house-slave. But she decided that she couldn't be bothered with the fag of packing all the items she'd unpacked earlier that day and that she certainly didn't feel like driving. No, she'd definitely stay. But what was she to do with her evening? Perhaps that foxy-looking receptionist with the long, dark, curly hair who'd been giving her the eye each time she'd come and gone through the entrance foyer today, could point her in the right direction. She didn't hold out much hope, though, here in a nearly empty hotel in Dullsville on a Tuesday evening. Still, nothing ventured …

‘Excuse me, eh, Jacqui,' Isabella said, looking at the name tag on the girl's lapel, which said: Jacqui Walsh – Receptionist. ‘What's there to do around here in the evening, can you advise? I don't know the area well and I'm at a bit of a loose end.'

‘I could show you, if you'd like. I come off duty in about ten minutes,' the girl replied with a warm smile, the fullness of her lips parting over pearl white teeth. That was more than the standard service industry smile, Isabella thought. It set aglow the young woman's large eyes, which were a deep brown, arched with black brows. She looked extremely attractive. She also seemed familiar somehow, but Isabella couldn't put her finger on it right now. Where had she seen her before?

‘That's good of you,' Isabella said with a broad smile, launching her own charm offensive.

‘Not at all. It would be my pleasure,' Jacqui replied. ‘To tell the truth I'm going to be at a bit of a loose end myself this evening, too, and I'd welcome some company. I live here at the hotel – the flat goes with the job. So, just give me half an hour to have a shower and freshen up and I'll come to your room. We can take it from there.'

A shower. Yes, what a good idea, Isabella thought. That was just what she needed as well after the day she'd had. ‘See you shortly,' she said, starting to move in the direction of the lift.

Isabella entered the bland nothingness of her hotel room, stripped off and made for the shower. She stood under the hot jets of water and sighed as she let them wash over her. The water slipped down over her shoulders, between her breasts, dripping from her nipples, and down her shapely body. She let her mind drift lazily, sensuously, to thoughts about this Jacqui Walsh female. She seemed as if she might have potential, Isabella thought with a tingle of excitement. She was certainly her type physically, a little like a brunette version of Kate with much longer, curlier hair. She definitely looked familiar, too. Now, where had she seen that pretty face before?

Isabella emerged from the shower, towelled herself dry, brushed her hair, and started to consider what to wear. The options were very limited as she'd only packed for the briefest of stays. Her deliberations were interrupted by a tap on the door of her room. She wrapped the towel around herself and opened the door.

‘Sorry,' Jacqui said, registering Isabella's state of undress. ‘I'm obviously too early.'

‘Not a problem,' Isabella replied. ‘Come on in.'

‘Thanks,' Jacqui said and wandered in, giving Isabella a sexy, full face smile. She really was very attractive indeed, beautiful even, Isabella thought, and what an extraordinarily sensuous mouth she had. And yes, Isabella was sure of it now. She'd definitely seen her before somewhere. But where, for Christ's sake? There were no clues in what she was wearing – a short red cotton T-shirt (no bra, she noticed), skin-tight black jeans and slingback stiletto heels over bare feet.

‘I'm sure we've met before,' Isabella said.

‘Don't you recognise me, Mistress Isabella?' Jacqui said with a mischievous grin.

That threw Isabella, although she disguised it well. But, no, damn it, she still couldn't place her. It was infuriating. ‘How about giving me a clue,' she said.

‘Think similar job, different kind of uniform,' Jacqui replied. ‘Oh, and a completely different hairstyle. I've only recently changed it.'

‘Of course,' Isabella said; suddenly she'd got it. ‘You're one of the hostesses at
Club Depravity
. I'm right aren't I?'

‘You are indeed,' Jacqui said. ‘I wondered when the penny would drop. I kept trying to catch your eye whenever you walked past me in reception today.'

‘And I thought it was because you fancied me,' Isabella smiled, raising an eyebrow.

‘Who says I don't?' Jacqui replied, the challenge in her gaze unmistakable.

Isabella ignored her response, let it hang in the air. ‘Drink?' she asked, picking up two glasses and walking to the fridge.

‘Vodka tonic with ice, please,' Jacqui said.

Isabella mixed two of these, handed one glass to Jacqui and raised her own. ‘Cheers,' she said and took a sip from her drink, the ice cubes clinking.

Jacqui's hand closed around her glass and she lifted it. ‘Cheers,' she said, repeating the toast.

‘Now, I'd better get changed,' Isabella said. ‘You were going to show me where the action is around here on a Tuesday evening.'

‘You're looking at it,' Jacqui replied. The radiant challenge came into her face again, this time full beam, and her big brown eyes shone. She took a sip of her vodka tonic and put it to one side. Jacqui then kicked off her slingbacks before unzipping her tight black jeans. She pulled them down sharply, revealing both that she was naked underneath and that her sex was entirely free of pubic hair. Sitting down on the room's one armchair, she pulled the jeans off completely and dropped them beside her. Next she stood up and removed her top, exposing her bare breasts.

‘You like?' she said with a tilt of the head. There was the full-wattage smile once more and the ignited brown eyes. Isabella shrugged and sipped at her drink. What was not to like when you looked at that body? It was soft and full, slim but rounded. Her skin was smooth with a light all-over tan. Isabella looked Jacqui up and down appraisingly and saw before her a lissom young woman with a body in youthful bloom.

She also saw a face betraying all the confidence and arrogance of youth, yes, but something more – a hint of something much darker, and all the more seductive for it. There was a certain slyness there too, Isabella could discern that as well, a sense that this was someone not really to be trusted.

Isabella put her drink down and walked towards Jacqui, allowing her towel to fall to the ground to reveal her own beautiful body. The two naked women stood before one another. For a second neither of them spoke and then the silence was suddenly broken as Isabella, grasping a handful of that long curly hair, slapped Jacqui's face three, four times.

‘Oh!' she cried out in shock, her cheeks smarting. Her face turned scarlet and her big eyes welled up with tears.

‘What the fuck do you think you're playing at?' Isabella snapped. Her face had become deadly serious, stern and unyielding, her black irises cold pools of anger.

‘But, but I thought …' the stunned young woman started to answer. This wasn't the way she'd thought this assignation was going to go at all.

‘Thought what, bitch?' Isabella said. ‘That because I'm heavily into BDSM I'm a slut like you?'

‘I'm really sorry,' Jacqui said in a small voice as tears began to course down her face. ‘There's obviously been some misunderstanding.'

‘Yeah, on your part,' Isabella sneered, her glare as fierce as ever.

‘I can only apologise,' Jacqui said with a sob.

‘An apology isn't enough,' Isabella said firmly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. ‘Get over my knee this instant.'

Jacqui had no hesitation in obeying and Isabella immediately raised her hand and then brought it down hard with a sudden smack that echoed through the room. The second smack came down on Jacqui's backside just as hard as the first and the searing heat burned her flesh. There was another smack and another, and another, each one landing like an explosion and smarting vividly.

‘You love it, bitch, don't you?' Isabella said, before bringing her hand down with another two forceful blows in quick succession.

‘Yes, Mistress Isabella,' Jacqui replied, her lips trembling. And it was true because now the burning heat was becoming more diffuse, melting, changing, spreading through her body and connecting deliciously with the growing heat in her sex.

Jacqui arched her back, lifting herself, offering the reddened cheeks of her backside to Isabella's fiery strokes. When the smacks landed now it was almost as if her pussy had been caressed. She was slick with her juice. She was soaking, dribbles of love juice smearing over her thighs. Her clitoris throbbed with pleasure as she lifted herself, opening her thighs so that Isabella's finger tips landed between the lips of her pussy.

Her backside was stinging so much that she writhed with agony and sensation, ached with pain and lust. Jacqui climaxed suddenly, clenching her body tight in that moment of ecstasy as the electric waves of pleasure in her sex surged throughout her body, making it shiver with delight.

The beating stopped. There was silence again. Jacqui's eyes were closed and tears continued to stream down her face. She felt such humiliation, she felt such joy. She hung her head and her luxuriant brown hair fell forward, covering her face with its veil.

Isabella reached over and brushed the hair from Jacqui's face. ‘Pleasure me now, bitch,' she said, the harshness of her voice tempered slightly by the sensuousness of her touch. Jacqui knelt down between Isabella's spread thighs. She began to kiss softly, running her lips around Isabella's open sex, which was wet with love juice. She pressed her tongue forward, as stiff and wet as a snake, and it began to work its miracles of delight in Isabella's pussy.

‘Play with yourself at the same time,' Isabella said. ‘Don't stop licking me and masturbating until I give you permission.' Jacqui pressed two fingers between her pussy lips, rubbing them up and down and into herself. She luxuriated in her own sticky wetness, the heat of her pussy, the pulse of her clitoris.

And all the while, she carried on licking Isabella's sex, probing and flicking with her tongue. She turned her attention to Isabella's swollen clitoral bud, and kissed and sucked and teased her clit until she cried out wordlessly as a powerful orgasm took her. This caused Jacqui to climax again as her fingers pressed hard into the wet heat of her pussy, her body shuddering with waves of delight.

But she knew she couldn't stop until Isabella said she could and Isabella was not about to do that any time soon. Jacqui continued making Isabella and herself come over and over again. She was giving Isabella the ultimate in pleasure as she did the same to herself. The two women climaxed repeatedly, wanting the waves of ecstasy to go on and on until they could do no more.

But all good things must come to an end. ‘Stop,' Isabella said eventually, and Jacqui immediately stopped licking her pussy and masturbating. Isabella pulled her up by the hair with both hands and looked directly into her shining eyes. ‘It's over now, bitch,' she said. ‘Make yourself scarce.'

And that was what Jacqui did ... for the time being. Because it wasn't over as far as Jacqui was concerned. She wasn't going to
allow
it be over.