Trapped and Tamed Page 15
Monica jerked on her hair viciously, “I said, understand? ”
“Yes! Yes… Mistress. I understand, Mistress. ”
“Better. Now, put it all together. ”
“Mistress, please punish me. Hurt me, Mistress, so I can better please you. Please, I beg you, Mistress. Keep hurting me until you orgasm, Mistress! Please! ”
Monica pushed that face back into her sex pie and smiled a huge smile. She loved it. A tremendous win. She ground that face in at a good angle so Dawn couldn’t see her mixture of triumph and relief. Nothing was ever certain, even up to a moment ago, but once you got them calling you Mistress it was amazing how smooth the sailing became. Few, if any, could ever recover their own self-control or self-esteem after they sold out their own will like that.
That slave mouth was giving a lot of pleasure but Monica didn’t forget the important ingredient of dealing pain to the newly enslaved. She wasn’t sure it was totally necessary but it had always worked well before. Besides, why not? Monica reached in between the padded chair cushions and found the riding crop she’d stored in there. Well, really Wayne Jones had stored it there. He kept useful tools of bondage and sadism in most rooms of the mansion just out of sheer convenience.
She leaned forward, her full mature slightly swollen lower belly pressing on Dawn’s smooth broad intelligent forehead. Both lower belly and forehead were covered in fine perspiration which joined causing their skin to slip sexily back and forth. Monica took a moment to mentally savor Dawn’s sexy derriere and emotionally savor what she was about to do to the woman while physically savoring that hardworking but cunilingually innocent tongue. Monica brought the crop down right at the top of Dawn’s ass crack. Monica was pleased with her perfect aim, thrilled at the startled anguish, and gratified by the reactive thrusting of the slave’s tongue.
Monica was submissive to Wayne Jones and Little Johnson and she enjoyed being submissive but she was also quite an enjoyer of dominating females. As a hetero lover she was subservient and as a Sapphic lover she was a dominant. The best of both worlds were instances like right now when she slavishly obeyed Wayne Jones’ orders to dominate, hurt, and enslave other females. Both at once was always the best.
Giving pain always gave Monica pleasure, though the pleasure was not always so immediate, direct, and physical. She realized Dawn was not intentionally trying to reward her with tongued pleasure. It was just that Monica had her face so deep in her pussy that her labial lips were actually partly inside the woman’s mouth. The pain had motivated Dawn to try to extricate herself and her tongue was desperately pushing at the lips to get them out. Silly woman. There would be no escape. Not now. Not ever. Monica’s strong hand wrapped in the woman’s hair and her strong will would make sure of that. Soon there would be more incidents of inflicted pleasure and bestowed pain and by a wider range of dominants. What was bizarre to this woman moaning in turmoil at her wet crotch would soon become the norm and then habitual. There would be no going back, only sinking ever deeper in.
Monica brought the crop down again, again striking the apex of Dawn’s ass crack. It was very nearly right on top of the first. Monica laughed out loud in physical and mental delight. She was going to give this slut quite a beating but all, as much as possible, on the exact same point of her body. If she did it long and hard enough Dawn might even end up with a permanent scar. How delightful!
Wayne Jones, and Monica, and the rest of Wayne Jones’ minions loved to make permanent changes in females. Permanently change their perspectives, their self-image, and their bodies. Piercing, tattoos, scars. They hadn’t done much branding yet but they’d get around to it. The physical changes made were a visual reward every time they saw them but, most importantly, they helped lock new psyches in place much more effectively than chains and padlocks. Of course, chains and padlocks were also fun….
Monica whacked the crop down again unerringly. Dawn mumble-screamed into Monica’s pussy. Monica brought the crop down again, trying for even more power. Dawn clamped her lips and teeth down, not fighting back, but in pure pain reaction. Besides, she mostly just bit her own tongue still desperately working in and out of Monica’s sex channel.
Monica kept it up. Kept swinging that crop down mightily. The crack of the blows absorbing into Dawn’s tender spot of flesh, the sound of the contact and Dawn’s muffled wails absorbed into the furniture and carpeting of the room where they joined many other past cries of the lost.
Monica was quite pleased with her aim even amidst her arousal. Even after forty blows there was a nearly circular crimson bright splotch at the small of Dawn’s back, about the size of the bottom of a soda can.
Dawn shook all over, nearly vibrating with that powerful elixir of pain, subservience, and yearning lust. She could barely keep her hands and knees straight under her and could barely keep her tired tongue thrusting.
Monica felt the shaking right up through the slave’s mouth and into her hot, Mistress pussy. She was getting way too close to orgasm but needed to do one more thing before allowing herself the fourth orgasm. Then she’d have one more task even after the orgasm.
She stopped the cropping and tried to control her arousal. She spoke through gritted teeth.
“Slave. ”
Dawn kept licking, kept trembling.
“Slave! ”
Dawn realized with a shock that Monica -- Mistress Monica -- was addressing her and not some new entry in the room. Dawn… a slave? Well, she guessed it made sense in a crazy way. If Monica was the Mistress -- and she sure as Hades was -- then, with illogical logic, she, Dawn, must be the slave. Yes, but only for a few more minutes….
“Slave! ”
She hesitantly pulled her mouth away from its all-important task, “Uh, ugh, yes Mistress? ”
“I want one more element to obtain my orgasm. Finger her cunny while you lick mine and I crop your naughty behind. Get lots of squirmy fingers up your nasty pussy hole, little slave. ”
“But… Mistress, I have to avoid climaxing. I just must! ”
“I never said you had to come. That’s your problem. That’s up to you. But I’m your Mistress so you must do as I say. ”
Dawn felt herself nodding. She had to agree. She did have to do whatever this woman said. That’s just the way it was. Sexual gravity. It couldn’t be defied. It was a newly discovered fact of life. She’d just have to hope to avoid coming. They were her own fingers. Surely she could control them….
At a hair tug Dawn went back to rolling her face in that big pussy and pushing her tongue against it. She brought the fingers of her right hand hard into contact with her own pussy. They felt wonderful. Way too wonderful. Several sliced up into her wet folds and the pleasure increased exponentially. My God, how could it feel that good despite the horrible pain emanating from her tailbone?
Monica’s sexy groans returned, and, with them, the harsh strikes to Dawn’s backside. Blood had rushed to and swollen the wounded area during the short pause so the renewed strikes hurt even worse/better.
For a minute Dawn was almost grateful for the pain as it seemed to help prevent orgasm. She needed the help as her active fingers were becoming far too expert in forcing pleasure. Soon she realized it was all a physical lie. The tremendous pain was not preventing an orgasm at all. It only built it up, causing a delay, yes, but foretelling a profound orgasm, an imminent sexual avalanche. Mistress Monica really knew what she was doing to her!
Oh no! She just couldn’t! She had to fight it off. She absolutely had to make Monica climax before she herself did. Everything was at stake. Her soul. She kept her mouth working hard and ignored the screaming jaw muscles.
She tried to shut out both the pain from the cropping and the sweet pleasure from her rubbing fingers. She focused on licking deep into Mistress Monica’s cunt but even that provided its own unique and powerful pleasures, mental and emotional.
The accomplishment was thrilling!
It was too thrilling…. The thrill seemed sexual. She was thrilled at making the Mistress climax and not from the prospect of imminent freedom.
The fingers of her right hand became more ambitious, four jamming hard as they could up her own pussy, pulled almost free, then jammed back in hard, again and again, hammering up into her needy pussy.
Her pussy wanted to catch up to Mistress. Her mind was too divided and confused to be anything other than a neutral party. She was on the brink.
Mistress Monica, even in the throes of orgasm, left nothing to chance, “Use your other hand, too, slave. Rub that clitty. ”
Monica kept that busy slave face up in her pussy while leaning forward to rapidly crop the slave’s battered tailbone. She had a good angle and through passion-lidded eyes she could see the good little slave bring her other hand up to her crotch. Monica assumed the fingers found the swollen clitoris because the slave gave a pretty little jerk.
Mistress Monica extended her orgasm as long as she could but reached her peak and Dawn felt a splash of liquid inundate her face. That emotional thrill caused her pussy to clench on her fingers, her little team of betrayers, and she soaked them with her juices during a jerking breathless orgasm.
Dawn’s orgasm went on and on even as Monica basked in the dregs of her own. The only thing that kept Dawn in place was Monica’s fist full of hair, hair she tugged viciously at though without any conscious intention.
Once the slave was depleted and Monica recovered her sense of mission she released Dawn and observed her fall face first into the carpet. Dawn rolled her face side to side but was too weak to turn over.
Monica looked at her wristwatch and waited forty seconds. She knew at that point post-orgasm sensitivity was still at its peak while the time elapsed was enough to make a new orgasm its own separate entity. In other words, another one would be easy to inflict and it would sure as Hell count.
Monica leaned forward, turned her body a little to the right, placed her left foot on the small of Dawn’s back. She applied force and slammed Dawn down full body against the carpet. She knew it caused Dawn extraordinary pain and had purposely chosen to target the cropped area. She bent forward and reached down with her right hand to insert strong fingers up that wetly loose little pussy.
After half a dozen mean words and a dozen thrusts from her hand the slave climaxed again. She was weak but the orgasm was strong.
Dawn actually fell asleep there on the deep damp carpet. She didn’t know how long. Eventually she woke up, leaving her dream for a nightmare.
She sensed movement behind her and, before she knew what was going on, felt her delicate wrists uncouthly cuffed behind her back. Why? She had no strength to resist. Even if that bitch started whipping her she doubted she would even try to crawl away.
Hands lifted at either side of her hips and she cooperatively raised her rear while leaving her face in the carpet. Something was wrong but it was hard to say what.
One hand remained on her hip while the other came back to finger her pussy from the rear. Those fingers stirred up her juices, reheating them from warm to hot after several minutes. She moaned in recognition she was arousing yet again. How many orgasms had she saved up since her husband died? She moaned in frustrated awareness, she wanted another climax while dreading falling ever further into sexual debt to Monica. She moaned again and tightened her belly to arch her pussy at an angle to afford greater access to those fingers.
She moaned in angst. Something was wrong. Those hands…. The smells were different. Under the smell of enflamed pussy was some other scent. A totally different smell. In fact, at the opposite end of the spectrum….
It was a challenge. She needed to see back there just to calm her sudden irrational fear. With difficulty she turned her head and looked up past her own shoulder blade.
The person cupping her mound wasn’t Monica.
It wasn’t even a woman.
He was that handyman, Mr. Johnson!
Dawn screamed though it wasn’t very loud given her position.
Johnson’s ragged black beard twitched in surprise, then his dark eyes and poor teeth twinkled with dark amusement, “Not what you expected, huh, rich bitch? ”
“Stop it you little monster! Let go of me! ”
Johnson chuckled, “Very well, my lady, your wish is my command. I’ll let go of your pussy. Obviously fingers and palm are not enough, you must want my cock in there instead. ”
Johnson pulled his wet fingers away and a moment later a fat cockhead knocked at her labial doorway.
Dawn wailed a desperate scream.
Just then, with Johnson’s cock just an inch inside her body, Monica knelt down next to them. She was all smiles.
“Monica! Stop him! ”
“It’s for your own good, sweetie. That selfish dead husband of yours denying you sex, not letting you have a good cock planted up your still-fertile pussy planting its seeds deep inside you. It just isn’t right. Fucking criminal really. We’re going to get you over that hump right now and we’re going to do it by letting Little Johnson here hump you. ”
Dawn’s wail of horror was choked off into groans when Little Johnson slid his big Johnson slow and steady down into her core. Once fully planted he began battering in and out with no mercy.
Monica reached under her and tugged on her nipples.
She whispered sultrily in her ear, “Remember how I wrote you I had a very special surprise for you and that it’s sort of purple? I’m a woman of my word. It’s inside you right now. Little Johnson’s nig cock is sort of purple. Enjoy it! ”
Despite its sheer size and Dawn’s relatively tiny pussy he soon had his tool gliding smoothly in and out thanks to her slick secretions. He was an expert at fitting his large personal object into tight spaces.
Dawn quickly considered her options. It was quick because she knew she had no options other than co-operation.
Even if she did have other options the magic in Monica’s tweezing fingers and the magic in Little Johnson’s cock would have pared them back down to just that one. Dawn reared hard backwards and upwards against the wide penetration. Her juices flowed freely and she no longer tried to escape. Why try what was not within the realm of the possible? She ground backward, using her elbows to gain traction on the carpet. Now she was aiding and abetting their transgressions on her body.
They all knew how this would end and they each sought to make it happen.
As the critical point approached Little Johnson hugged closer to her back while still humping into her madly. He spoke harshly near her ear, “This time your cunt but, next time, I’m going to shaft that asshole, I’m gonna shoot my load in your guts. Then you’re going to lick my cock clean after. ”
How awful!
Breathless and voiceless, there was only one way she could respond to such a profane proclamation from such a foul, sorry excuse for a human being.
Dawn arched her back, ground her pussy back and up so her pussy lips pushed wide around the base trunk of the invader, and came on it.
In orgasm she found her voice, loud but wordless. Little Johnson bellowed along with her and shot pulsing streams of semen into her gratefully embracing pussy.
A half hour later after Dawn was freed and as she stumbled about trying to get dressed she wondered if the orgasm with Little Johnson had added to her “orgasm debt” to Monica. She looked at Mistress Monica whose satisfied emerald eyes watched her with an air of confident victory.
Dawn realized her internal question was a dumb one. Of co
urse that orgasm had counted against her. They all did nowadays….
In a few minutes, fully dressed but with sweat and juice damp under her clothes, Dawn stood near the front door awaiting permission from Monica to leave.
Monica was still in a state of undress, “You had three orgasms so you still owe me three. You know that. ”
Dawn nodded.
“You’re going to give them to me in your home, in your bedroom. After we have a nice civilized dinner at your dining room table with your daughter and any other friends you like. ”
Dawn gaped at her.
“Tomorrow night. By the way, you should be proud to be mine so you will introduce me as your girlfriend and say you’ve decided to date again. You’d better make it obvious you mean me or, believe me, I’ll do it for you in a much more embarrassing fashion. If I have to I’ll turn you over my knee and spank you in front of your daughter until you tell her I’m your Mistress and you’re my slave. See, that would be much more embarrassing, wouldn’t it? So follow directions. After dinner, you’ll take me by the hand -- in front of anyone there -- and guide me to your bedroom. ”
Dawn was speechless. This was impossible. This was a nightmare.
Monica spun her around, swatted her rear twice, then pushed her out through the door, “I’ll see you this Saturday at your place. I’ll arrive at six o’clock. ”
The door slammed and Dawn stood for a moment on the porch looking outward at her car in the huge U-shaped driveway.
Time to leave. Time to return home. Time to prepare to host a dinner tomorrow night.
Even though no one was around, Dawn mumble-whispered under her breath so no one would hear her, “Yes, Mistress. ”
Little Johnson snored on the bed when Monica returned to the bedroom and flopped down next to him.
She lay there cooling her still sweaty body on the top sheets. She sported a hot grin below contentedly closed eyes. That little rich bitch Mommy had arrived three orgasms “in debt” and, after a hard-working -- one might say slave laboring -- afternoon, she was still three orgasms in debt. What fun!