SlavesofMistressDespoiler (14 page)

With expert skill, the Mistress started to place more knots down the rope as the rest of the doubled up length flopped down her front. Placed evenly until they reached her thighs, Lynn kept her gaze up, relishing the feeling of rope as it softly bumped her torso.

Drawing the stem of woven coils between Lynn’s legs, the Mistress drew up and threaded it through the back of her neck loop. With a pull she hauled in the slack, dragging it in until the knotted length was pulled tight to Lynn’s front. The lowest knot pushed in her short skirt and pressed to her sex. The pressure caused Lynn to gasp and then release a sudden groan of pleasure. The tight clinch that had formed from neck to crotch seemed to melt her resolve to deny this, and she felt gloriously secure, safe and content in the care of the Mistress.

The rope slid between the cheeks of her buttocks, fighting the gloss skirt, pressing it in and causing the vinyl to fall into the valley. Her skirt was now squeezed to her. She could feel two closely placed knots digging into her rear, the purpose of the two lumps unknown to her at present.

A shiver of delight caused the hard nugget pressing into her to shift. It was a teasing tickle that had her wanting to writhe further and extract more sensation for herself. Fighting off such temptation she stood still and let her owner work.

With both hands toiling simultaneously, the Mistress reached around with the separated twin lengths. She let each hook one of the ropes at her front and then pull back. Through this process, the rope down her front was drawn out into a descending pattern of diamonds. The lengths that pulled them open reached back around, wrapping upon each other to anchor themselves and then return to take hold of a lower area. Each time the rope between two knots was hauled open, the whole plexus tightened slightly upon her, making her pant with a serene sense of enclosure. The knot at her belly seductively tickled her. It was like a reward for enduring the process of bondage.

Lynn’s fingers clasped upon each other and gripped into her hair as she strove to keep still. Her head felt light. Her thoughts were hazy and saturated to capacity with prurient matters.

The knots by her breasts were closer than the others and caused the small diamond at her cleavage to set the ropes out above and below each breast, biting them between these rope jaws and pushing them out, the vinyl being pulled tight over each compressed mound. Against the burnished fabric the engorged summits that were her nipples stood out distinctly. Her excitement was obvious and slightly embarrassing to Lynn. When she saw the clues, she blushed, hoping that the diligence of the Mistress’ efforts would make her overlook such a sight.

The last of the rope was drawn out and the Mistress drew Lynn’s arms down and backwards. Placing the forearms along each other they remained horizontal and loitered at the middle of her spine. The rope reached up and started to bind the wrists and elbows, sealing them together and holding her to this pose that removed their use.

Lynn closed her eyes as the delight and the fear of the sensation tore up her thoughts and confused them.

After the coils locked elbow to wrist they then spiralled along her joined forearms before reaching up and knotting to the initial hoop at her neck. They parted again and snagged her biceps, dragging them back slightly before the last of the rope vanished into knotting them there.

“There, all done, slave,” stated the Mistress as she stepped back to examine her handiwork.

Lynn flexed her arms and tried to move them but found that it was useless. She was effectively bound and had no chance of even moving let alone escaping such confinement. The pull of her attempts caused the crotch rope to shift and she swayed on her heels for a moment. The effects of the rope bondage were a tentative yet astounding delight to her.

A leash appeared, the silver chain links chiming quietly to themselves. With a click the clip was snapped to her rear, capturing the rope stretched between the two knots that stopped the leash from slipping up or down.

A tug to the lead made the knot at her sex shift more distinctly and she set free a croak of reply to its effects on her. Lynn staggered back a step, steadying herself. Her arms tried to break free to help restore her balance. It was an instinctive response that was completely curtailed by the bonds.

Keeping hold of the lead, the Mistress sank into the couch. Setting the crop aside she gave another little pull that repeated the glorious influence on Lynn. It was a soft, barely substantial brush, one that promised much more than it delivered and which served to arouse and frustrate.

“Come and lay across my knees,” she ordered, reeling Lynn in by this intimate mooring.

Settling onto her booted knees before the Mistress, Lynn draped herself across the thighs of the woman. The gloss and latex exchanged conversation comprised of squeaks and creaks as they stuck lovingly to one another.

The Mistress shifted her slave a little. Dragging Lynn forward so that she was draped fully over the bench of rubber-padded flesh, her stomach now rested on latex-smothered thighs.

Lynn looked down into the boots of the Mistress, her rear in the air and obviously awaiting attention. She was aching for something more intense than the cursory tease of the knot. Her bondage, her submission, all of it conspired to have her praying for sensual input. Pain or pleasure, she didn’t care which. They were equal in her eyes now and she needed them more than she had ever thought possible. There had been an untouched and highly flammable pool in her mind, one she had not even noticed and which no other person had managed to ignite. But through her deeds of entrapment and dominance the Mistress had cast a lit match into this pool. Now the fires were raging bright and uncontrollable within her.

The hand of the Mistress let the leash flop between Lynn’s legs. Lynn’s muscles flexed within her boots, causing the patent leather to ripple as the chain hung limp between her thighs.

“Such a sweet little rear,” commented the Mistress. Stroking the rounded peaks of Lynn’s buttocks, she traced the skirt that was pulled taut over it, the cheeks bisected by the tight rope.

Hooking a finger under the lip of each flap of skirt she pulled up and peeled it back. Lifting the hem of the dress as far as the crotch rope permitted, the material remained firmly anchored underneath it.

Lynn swallowed as she was exposed. Her mind was racing. Another woman was keeping her bound and over her knee, and was now pulling back her dress to stroke her naked rear prior to some mode of chastisement. She could not credit this as being real, it seemed so unlikely and even more unlikely was her willingness to submit to it.

“Are you ready to receive a spanking, slave? To show how much you want to belong to me?” questioned Mistress Despoiler. Her latex fingertips lightly touched the soft pelt of Lynn’s rear, causing her to shudder and set free riots of gooseflesh.

“Oh yes, Mistress, I am. I want to be yours,” she blurted. The scenario had overwhelmed Lynn. She was being totally ruled by her raging passion and hunger for new experience.

No sooner had she acquiesced than the hand of the Mistress jumped back and jerked open. The solid palm swept back and onto the supple flesh.

Lynn gave a choked cry, throwing her head back, her hair whipping her bound back as the hot flash rolled through the skin. It was not a response of pain but rather a mixture of elation and shock. It was a completely new and alien sensation that she had no idea of how to correctly respond to.

The Mistress paused and let the searing flush subside, filling her time by gathering up Lynn’s long hair and fastening it with a tight hair-band. Taking hold of the root of this ponytail she used it as a reign, holding Lynn’s head up. Her jaws were agape, her eyes half closed as she readied to receive the full measure of the spanking that she herself had requested.

The hand of the Mistress returned again, applying itself and gaining stinging applause. Lynn choked and gurgled, her neck throbbing from being craned back so forcefully but it only made her feel more helpless to resist and thus more able to revel in the punishment.

The claps of latex to flesh resounded through the room, mingling with Lynn’s sobs and panting breath. Her rear grew hotter with each smack to a buttock, the flesh mustering an intense internal fire as it became more sensitive. But even as her skin was rendered more susceptible to the distress of the spanking, so to did the flow of endorphins increase. The torrents raged through her, making it easier to bear, making it more of a pleasure that she left herself willingly exposed to.

Occasionally the Mistress paused. Snatching the leash she gave a few rhythmic pulls upon it during the brief break. The attention dragged the knot against Lynn’s sex, the vinyl being a negligible protection from the results it imbued. After a few tickles that had Lynn aching for more, the smacks continued.

The lucid ovation her rear was receiving stopped abruptly after a few dozen had been applied. Lynn wheezed sporadically. Her head was still held back, her eyes were full of tears and her brow was laced with gems of perspiration. To an outsider it must have looked like she was in the most profound sorrow and misery, but rather they were manifestations of her decadent joy.

It had been a wonderful rite of initiation and Lynn could not believe how much she had enjoyed it. She could not leave this scenario now. It was a form of twisted bliss that was too exquisite to forsake.

Lynn swore to herself in the heady afterglow of her spanking that she had to become the full time slave of Mistress Despoiler, to be part of their relationship forever and never leave. She could exercise her dominant sadism, and that was a delight in itself but more than this she wanted the Mistress all to herself. How she longed to hold the Mistress, to caress her legs, to abase herself at her feet, to kiss her breasts or lips, to belong to her totally. The magnitude of this first experience was washing away all reason and clear thought with rash fantasy.

The Mistress lowered her hold and let Lynn flop her head forward. She hung limp, exhausted by the ordeal.

“So rosy,” commented the Mistress while softly stroking Lynn’s slap-heated rear. “Now off you get, slave.”

Helping Lynn back onto her knees she took up the leash to keep a reign on the excellent piece of vinyl-wrapped property.

Lynn knelt and shivered. Huddled over a little, twitches ran through her body from echoes of the intense affliction to her rear. She manoeuvred her belly a little, shifting and swaying, making the knot please her, but there was not enough give to gain any sort of relief.

The Mistress stepped before Lynn, her heeled feet occupying Lynn’s lowly gaze. A hooked digit touched her chin and started to draw her eyes up, lifting her head and giving her a rising shot of the Mistress’ entire enchanting form. She stared wide-eyed over the curving contours of her pencil skirt and the enticing female form enclosed by the impermeable and succulent fabric. The smell of it tickled Lynn’s nose like the most exquisite perfume. The scent was like a pheromone, arousing her subdued libido, rendering her a devotee of the woman before her. The regnant that the Mistress had imposed was proving to be the most intense of aphrodisiacs.

Lynn continued her study as she was drawn up. She glared at wondrous breasts, locked beneath the halter neck top, the material shimmering across them. Then a wicked glower fell from above, the Mistress’ eyes sparkling in the shadows wrought by her peaked cap. Lynn almost felt like weeping. It was as though some seraphic being had come down and enslaved her, taken away her free will and reduced her to no more than a sensual plaything.

The hand lifting her chin trickled aside and ran down her face, smoothing her features before raising her higher and making her look to the black depths of the ceiling. With her eyes upward, she could only listen as the Mistress settled before her. She felt a leather band being enclosed about her neck and tightened to a snug fit. The click of a padlock sounded and Lynn gave another shiver of concupiscent glee. The feel of being sealed in a collar was exhilarating. It was a badge of ownership that confirmed her stature and constantly reminded her of it with its mere existence.

Lynn gave a startled jolt as a hand brushed her breast, the reaction prompted through shock and surprise.

“Keep still, slave,” demanded the Mistress, and Lynn steeled her resolve. The fingers of her owner returned and opened, cupping the bound asset. The gloss subdued but did not extinguish the feeling and the light touch started to escalate into a careful grope.

“You can’t resist. I own you, you are mine to do with as I please, slave,” she whispered seductively.

Lynn whimpered as she was examined. The other hand entered the process and her nipples grew hard once more against the dress. The rope began to feel even tighter as her chest rose and fell with her deep gasps.

No one had touched her like this before. The tedious and unenlightened efforts of self-absorbed males was something she had put up with as the best on offer, prompting her into feigning greater results than had been produced just to feather their egos and spare their feelings the truth.

But the Mistress knew where to place her touches and how to gain the best reactions. The strangling rope had increased their sensitivity and the bondage and chastisement had aroused Lynn to a point where she was almost swooning from this mere act of fondling.

Her head started to lower and was halted when the rubber hand of the Mistress stopped her. The palm was pressed to her chin, the fingers reaching up to her lips.