SlavesofMistressDespoiler (28 page)

Lynn reached in with shaking fingers, opening the bra of the Mistress and peeling it down, revealing the mesh that lovingly held her breasts, the silver circles sparkling beneath as they transfixed her nipples.

Lynn lowered down to the floor and started to unfasten her boots, listening as the Mistress spoke while she was stripped.

“What did you think of the Grand Duke, slave?”

“He was nothing compared to you, Mistress.”

“A rather fawning response there, slave,” she chuckled, stepping from the tall footwear as Lynn held it with reverence.

“I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“Never mind. But you had best get used to the idea. If you come back with me, there will be others who will want you, and I may hand you to them for use. Does this frighten you, slave?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Don’t fret, you will become more accustomed to it. We have only just scratched at your training, soon enough you’ll be eager for such couplings, and you will make me proud by doing so.”

“I’d like that very much, Mistress,” she replied, helping to peel off the shorts, the smell of rubber and sweat rising from within them, the humid tang having her ache to lap from the interior.

“Did you understand what we were talking of?”

“Not really, Mistress.”

“But you have a rough idea, don’t you, slave?” she grinned, knowing full well that the secret was out, and while not all of it was known, Lynn had caught a glimpse of the scale of deception wrought on her and the male slave.

“A little, Mistress.”

“Then tell me what you think, slave.”

“You are in some sort of powerful and wealthy group abroad, Mistress. You all recruit slaves to use, slaves that you train and trade and sell to each other,” Lynn began, and then paused as she started to remove the sleeves of the cat suit.

“Keep going, slave.”

“You came here posing as the person we all though you were, Mistress. But you’re not you, you’re one of them. You deceived us all, Mistress.”

“Don’t you think deceived is a strong word, slave? I did not deceive you, I just didn’t tell you the full truth, as no doubt you have things you have not told me.”

“Sorry, Mistress, I didn’t meant to offend.”

“Apology accepted. Now continue, slave. I want to hear what else you have concocted from your snippets of knowledge.”

“You began your relationship with the male slave, and offered for me to live here so I could save for my house, all as part of this plan. You wanted to see if I really wanted to dominate, and if your partner really wanted to be your slave. You also wanted to see if I would submit as well.”

“I spotted the signs in you, I saw your slavery in you, even though you didn’t know it was there yourself. All it took was the right keys to open that door and let it out, and I have, haven’t I, slave?”

“Yes, Mistress. I belong to you. But Mistress, will I be a slave completely?”

“You want to continue ruling my other slave, don’t you.”

“Well, I—”

“Come on, say it, slave. I won’t be angry.”

“Yes, Mistress, I do.”

“And you shall. For you see, male slaves are forbidden in this organisation. But everyone keeps them on the sly. It’s like smoking when your parents have forbidden it. The male slave is for myself, and you to play with, and any others I deem trustworthy enough to enter the scenario. He will be kept in secret, hidden away as my exclusive property. You on the other hand are a more viable piece of merchandise, something I can offer and show off. Once you are fully trained of course. But you will always have access to the slave when you are mine.”

“Will I always be yours, Mistress.”

“It is likely. To buy a slave outright costs a great deal, far more than most are willing to spend. It is easier to rent them for a time. This is almost certain to happen to you, but you will always be coming back to me, slave. Does that quell your unease?”

“Yes, Mistress, it does, thank you,” she whispered, smiling broadly, her heart settling, her gut unknotting from the prospect of losing her forever.

“Take off your boots, slave,” she commanded, grabbing a small key from the shelf and offering it to Lynn.

Taking it, she popped the locks and unlaced the tall footwear, setting herself free of the heels and then remaining humble before the naked Mistress.

“Now come here,” she ordered, pulling Lynn over and once more fastening her hands high behind her back.

“Turn off the light and come into the bed,” she added, throwing back the quilt on which Lynn had only just been penetrated on.

Standing up, pulling at her bonds with weak jiggles, Lynn went to the light switch and flipped it with her nose. In the darkness she staggered back, negotiating her route by memory before sitting down and shuffling onto the soft covers. She laid herself down, and closed her eyes, the tiredness of the day welling quickly now that the opportunity for sleep had been offered.

“Not yet, slave, you have other duties to perform first,” stated the Mistress, hooking a finger into her collar and steering Lynn’s face.

Lynn followed the guidance, letting herself be pulled between the legs of the Mistress as she reclined. Curled into a ball at the foot of the bed, her mouth was driven into the loins of her owner, and with eager passion, Lynn began to play the sex of the Mistress. Her tongue was still raw and aching from the over energetic cunnilingus of Fire Opal, but this was her Mistress, the one she adored above all else, and her ailing organ found new life for the deed.

The Mistress moaned softly in the dark, Lynn’s flitting attention bringing her to new levels of pleasure. She locked naked legs about the bound woman, holding her tight as she stiffened with each orgasm, drinking her full measure of Lynn’s devotion.

Lynn ached to do the same, to let her hands play between her legs while she did this, but she guessed that was why she had been bound. Without the chastity belt to enforce her self-control just yet, she was untrustworthy and open to a temptation she could all to slyly indulge.

“That will do, slave. Now curl at my feet and get some sleep. I’ll punish you before you go to work tomorrow,” she ordered, pushing Lynn away and laying back to drift into a warm and contented slumber.

Burning with frustration, Lynn cuddled up to the legs of the Mistress, nuzzling her cheek to the soft skin while gradually sliding into her own semi-sleep, her thoughts and dreams tainted with the hunger for relief.

Chapter Fifteen

The night was a long and trying one, where he could only think on his fate, and what being her slave would bring. Would he end up a mindless dog, obeying orders without question, devoted to a Mistress who lived to see him suffer beneath her heels?

Hunger and thirst lifted to join his ordeal, his belly growling like a beast, his throat dry as all he wanted was to drink deep of some cool water.

The sound of an alarm going off roused him slightly from a dazed torpor, a half sleep that mixed dream and reality, filling his mind with perverse notions and corrupted dreams.

The sound cut off, and he slithered back for the refuge of his somnolence, only to have it disturbed later on by the opening of the door.

The Mistress switched off the alarm and lifted the covers, revealing the dozing form of her slave. Still clad in her lingerie, she had gained a fitful night’s sleep, and was now lodged deep in coma from such deprivation.

“Wake up, slave,” she decreed, shaking her gently by the shoulder.

Her bleary eyes opened and she pulled at her restraints, taking a moment to recall why she was bound and what her new situation was. For a moment she clearly thought it was all a dream, and then the truth spread back across her mind.

“Is it morning already, Mistress?” she said with a dry and cracked voice.

“Yes, slave. Time for you to get up. But first, your morning punishment, something to tide you over until you come home,” she announced.

Rising from the bed, the Mistress walked over and took up her crop, settling it into her grasp for a comfortable fit.

“Bend over,” she commanded, causing her slave to lift her rear, her face pressed into the mattress, her buttocks hanging in the air, the cheeks separated by the white strand of material of her underwear.

“I think ten strokes will suffice for now, slave.”

“Yes, Mistress,” she stated meekly, obviously settling for this sensation if she could not have the others she wished.

It was likely that the slave would masturbate during the day while at work, thinking on her Mistress and her doom of slavery. But this only served the purpose of the Mistress all the more, for if she kept indulging, and kept getting used to it, when she was rendered chaste, it would make her all the more desperate to gain her relief, a relief she would have to earn, and thus her obedience would be total.

The crop slashed in and painted a weal along her rear, making Lynn grimace and sob, her legs shaking as another was delivered. Each stroke brought her to a tensed pose, one that melted into a slack heap as the effects of the stroke dwindled to a less piercing peak.

The Mistress licked her lips as the woman suffered under her hand, her tall body shuddering with travail from the torment of being so ruthlessly chastised. It was a glorious sight, and one that had the Mistress hungry for satisfaction again. But she would wait, take out her frustrations on her male servile.

“Now, slave. You may go and get ready, and use my other slave as well to serve you, but you are to tell him nothing of what you know. Understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“I am not speaking with levity, here. I want him kept completely ignorant, slave,” she growled, making sure that Lynn knew there was to be no trifling with this law.

“Yes, Mistress. I won’t say a thing,” she uttered, her eyes wet with tears from the heat throbbing in her punished rear.

The Mistress removed the chains and unlocked the restraints about her extremities, setting her free in full.

“Now change and go to work. I will see you when you come home, slave,” she announced, and presented her foot, lifting it up and putting it to the bed for Lynn to reach forward and place kisses on.

“Thank you, Mistress,” she whimpered, and like a scolded dog, she cringed and left the room.

The Mistress dropped back into her sheets, closing her eyes and dreaming of all the things she was planning, running them through in her mind, delving through the consequences, the obstacles, the hindrances that might arise and ways she could by-pass or overcome them.

Mistress Lynn strode in, bleary eyed, clad only in a silken dressing gown, the black material embroidered with curling oriental dragon designs. As though performing any other morning chore, she set his manacles free and untied his ankles.

“Get yourself free and come downstairs. I want a glass of orange juice, a bowl of cornflakes, the television on, and a footrest,” she ordered, and shuffled away with a wide yawn, leaving him to the delicate task of removing himself from the rest of his confines.

Reeling in the weight, he let his stretched length find a shade of sanctuary, and then bolstered the feeling of relief when he started to unwind the tight coils from around his flushed genitalia. It felt wonderful to get them free, and with tenderness he put the wilted sex back into his briefs. Sliding from the bed, his back gave several deep cracks as he straightened it.

The inside of the hood was damp with his sweat, but he still could not get it off, it was a part of him now. Likewise the back of his neck was raw from rubbing upon the unforgiving walls of the collar, but again, it would be something that he would just have to accustom to.

Removing the leash from the head of the bed, he let it dangle upon his back and walked downstairs, his bare feet cold against the tiled floor of the kitchen. Mistress Lynn sat in the living room, the grogginess of sleep lingering.

First he stole water to quench his drought, the cold cascade pouring straight from the tap and down his throat. He gulped it down for long minutes, bloating his belly with an icy flood, ending with a gasp and a sigh of contentment. One advantage to the tyranny of these females was that even the most minor deed was becoming a great bliss to one denied and starved of it.

He gathered her requested breakfast and walked in, switching on the television, handing her the tray and then forming onto all fours before her. Bare feet settled onto his back, and he gave a grimace as she reached into his briefs and shook the base of the plug, making it punish his bruised rear with some jostling.

“Just checking that its still there, slave,” she uttered softly, and dropped a set of ordinary court shoes before his gaze.

“Clean them,” she ordered, and went about eating while watching the various channels, the crunch of each mouthful followed by echoes that continually faded until she swallowed.

Picking one up in a hand so he could keep his balance as a stool, he lifted it to his face and paused. Her naked heel lifted up and thumped into his back like a punch, playing a drum like tone and bending him to her will.

“Remember rule forty, slave?” she growled softly.

He paused, thinking, trying to remember it. It had to be something connected with obeying those Mistress Despoiler appointed over him, yet he could not recall it in full, just the vague premise of it.