Domination Inc. (4 page)

‘Whatever gave you that impression?' Elisha replied. ‘Now take the rest without complaining or you'll be in the Head's study for an appointment with his rod.'

‘Now that sounds more like it.' Cindy giggled, pouncing on the double meaning in Elisha's words. Her giggle changed abruptly to a squeal as Elisha smartly peppered her backside with hard, stinging slaps.

Though Cindy's bottom was snugly covered by her white knickers, Laurel was certain that it would be starting to turn red, the marks of Elisha's palm visibly imprinted on the flesh. She wanted to see those marks, but could not bring herself to issue the order for Elisha to bare Cindy's backside. Her sex was heating rapidly, the lips swelling, making her black leggings feel uncomfortably tight. It was the same feeling she had experienced when Joe had been telling her the story about his ex-girlfriend goading him into spanking her. Like Elisha, she knew she was turned on by the sight of someone else being punished. Unlike her dominant employee, however, mentally she was placing herself firmly in the position of the one who was on the receiving end.

Laurel shifted in her seat, crossing her legs to try to assuage the throbbing pressure between them, as Elisha ran her hand lovingly over Cindy's cotton-covered backside.

‘That wasn't so bad, was it?' Elisha asked.

Cindy shook her head, apparently unable to speak.

Elisha twined her fingers in Cindy's bottle-blonde hair, and pulled her head up gently. ‘I can't hear you, Beresford. Aren't you going to thank me?'

‘Thank you for giving me the punishment I deserved,' Cindy said obediently.

‘Good girl,' Elisha replied, and stroked Cindy's bottom again. This time her hand found its way down into the cleft between Cindy's cheeks, her long-taloned fingers pouching the girl's sex. Cindy moaned appreciatively as Elisha gently rubbed her pussy through the gusset of her knickers. Her legs parted slightly, allowing Elisha easier access to her most private parts. Then, to Laurel's surprise and excitement, Elisha tugged Cindy's knickers down firmly. Cindy made no attempt to protest, or even to close her legs, and Laurel saw clearly that Cindy's pubic hair was the same chemically-assisted blonde as that on her head.

Christian took this moment as his cue to join in. He went to the office door and opened it a little way before slamming it shut hard, the sound designed to make both Elisha and Cindy look in his direction.

‘Girls, girls, what are you doing?' he exclaimed, adopting a suitably pompous tone. ‘I will not tolerate such shameless, sinful behaviour in my school. You have been warned time and time again that the expression of Sapphic delight is strictly forbidden here.'

Cindy sat bolt upright on Elisha's knee, covering her vulva with her hands, but not before Laurel had been treated to a glimpse of her wet, open furrow.

‘Oh, please, Headmaster,' Elisha began, suddenly contrite, ‘you won't tell our parents, will you? We don't want to be expelled.'

‘You realise the only alternative is six of the best for the pair of you, don't you?' Christian said.

Cindy and Elisha glanced at each other, Elisha clearly discomfited by this turn of events. Her protests were waved away by Christian, who was roaming the room in search of a suitable implement of punishment. He at last alighted on a plant pot on the windowsill, which contained a weedy vine held up by a thin length of bamboo. He unfastened the plant from its supporting cane, which he brandished experimentally.

‘Just the thing,' he announced. ‘Now, we'll start with you, girl,' he motioned to Elisha. ‘Bend over and touch your toes.'

Casting a mutinous glare at Laurel, Elisha did as she was told. Christian positioned himself behind her and flipped up the skirt she was wearing to reveal a beautifully heart-shaped bottom, clad in opaque black tights with red lacy panties just visible beneath them. He flexed his cane, and then tapped Elisha on the bottom with it, measuring out the distance for his strike. The cane swished through the air and landed on its target, firmly enough to make Elisha's buttocks smart, though there was no real venom in Christian's stroke. In truth, this was little more than a token punishment, Elisha's tights and panties protecting her from the real sting of the cane. The remaining five strokes were delivered in quick succession, Christian not even bothering to invoke the time-honoured ritual of asking Elisha to thank him after each one. Laurel sensed that the real performance was to come when Christian turned his attention to Cindy.

Her suspicions seemed well-founded when Cindy was ordered to bend over without being allowed to pull up her knickers and jeans. Elisha stood and rubbed her bottom ruefully, though she seemed well aware that she had been spared any genuine discomfort, and her gaze seemed riveted to Cindy's moist, aromatic sex as it was presented to the onlookers, tucked between her widely-parted legs like some ripe, exotic fruit.

This time, when Christian measured out his swing and brought the cane down, there was no holding back. The cane landed with a satisfying thwack across Cindy's buttocks, leaving a slim red weal in its wake. Her flesh already sensitised by the spanking it had received earlier, Cindy must have felt the stroke all the more keenly, but she said nothing. Stoically, she bit her lip and readied herself for the next one.

Christian took the chastisement at his own pace, making Cindy wait for agonising moments before deciding to lay the cane on once more. Elisha's punishment had been over within a minute, but Cindy's lasted more than twice as long. By the time Christian came to deliver the last stroke there were five distinct, well-spaced tramlines across Cindy's flesh, glowing an angry crimson. He had saved his fiercest blow until the end, and it was aimed squarely at the underhang of Cindy's buttocks, where the flesh was unmarked and sweetly tender. She had remained silent throughout her ordeal, but this time she could not restrain herself from letting out a shriek of pain, and bringing her hands round to cradle her tormented bottom.

Laurel could not help noticing that, despite the discomfort she was in, Cindy's quim was juicier than it had been, and there were silvery trails of excitement trickling down the tops of her thighs. She was suddenly eager to cup Cindy's sex-flesh in her palm and ease a finger into that greedy maw which had been opened by the punishment the girl had taken. She wanted Cindy to writhe beneath her ministrations as she stroked her plump little clitoris and frigged her tight, velvet channel, and then she wanted to feel Christian bring his cane down hard on her own naked backside for having dared to take such liberties with a member of her own staff...

She started guiltily at a knock on the office door. ‘Anyone home?' a voice called, and she realised it was Joe.

‘Yes, come in!' she replied.

Joe walked in to see Cindy hastily buttoning the fly of her jeans, and Christian replacing the length of bamboo in its pot.

‘Everyone, this is Joe Gallagher, my new business partner,' Laurel announced. ‘Joe, this is Elisha and Cindy and Christian, our first three full-time members of staff.'

‘Nice to meet you all,' Joe said, shaking hands all round, ‘but I can't help feeling that I've just missed something.'

‘Laurel here's been putting us through our paces,' Cindy replied, smiling at him wickedly. Her hands reached to unfasten her jeans once more, and she began to lower them. ‘She just doesn't think I've quite got the hang of this submission lark yet, though, do you Laurel?'

Laurel, knowing that this was far from the truth, but aware of the hunger in Cindy's voice, nodded. ‘Why don't you show her how you'd mete out a punishment, Joe? After all, we're likely to be a little short-handed over the next couple of weeks, and you never know when you might have to deputise on an escort job.'

She took the cane Christian had used so recently and handed it to Joe. And when you've shown what you can do to Cindy, why don't you show me what you can do to me? she thought. Hurriedly, she excused herself and went to make more coffee. She had already decided that her own body was not for hire, at any price, and no matter how excited she became at the thought of being firmly chastised, it was a resolution she firmly intended to uphold.

 

 

 

 

 

I need a man, Laurel thought, twisting a beer mat glumly between her fingers. It's all very well planning to offer an escort service for women who like to be dominated, but it's no good if the only men I can provide to dominate them are Joe and Christian. The pair of them will be worn out within a week.

Given their performance in the office, Cindy and Elisha seemed more than capable of catering for those clients who wanted to explore their dominant or submissive tendencies with a woman, and both were eager to begin work as soon as possible. But Laurel didn't feel she could re-launch the agency under its new identity until she had at least one more dedicated male escort on board.

She finished the last mouthful of white wine and soda in her glass and toyed with the idea of ordering another one. There was nothing to go home to, and the prospect of sitting in front of some tedious game show with a Chinese takeaway was less appealing than that of staying a while longer in the friendly warmth of her shabby local pub. Everyone knew her here, and if she wanted to sit in a corner with a book or the crossword in the evening paper, she would not be bothered. She set her empty glass on the table, her mind resolved: just this last one, and then she would be on her way.

As she passed the couple sitting in the alcove next to her own table, she could have sworn she heard the man say to his female companion, ‘And when you come back from the ladies', I want you to give me your knickers. That way I'll know you've taken them off.'

The girl he was with, a porcelain-skinned redhead in her early twenties, was looking at him as though she wanted to protest. Laurel made a show of bending to tie the lace of her ankle boot, listening for the man's next words, not quite able to believe what she thought she had heard. For a moment she suspected that her overburdened brain was finding evidence of domination games everywhere, but then the man said, ‘Do it. Or you know what you'll be in for when I get you home.'

The girl gave a shudder, her expression one of fear mingled with anticipation, and left the table, brushing past Laurel as she rose to her feet. Laurel felt her pussy clench with the thought that the girl was about to comply with her partner's bizarre demand.

She hurried to the bar, her eyes scanning the half-empty pub as she did so. She was eager to be back in her seat by the time the girl returned to reveal her newly-knickerless state.

As she passed the neighbouring alcove on the way back with her drink, she took a quick look at the man who sat there. He was dressed in uniform black, like a would-be rock star: battered leather biker's jacket, T-shirt and loose-fitting jeans. His short black hair was gelled back from his face, and he sported a neatly-sculpted goatee beard. He glanced up as Laurel went by, and she was briefly aware of his heavy-lidded grey gaze settling on her and assessing her. There was a dominant, slightly arrogant set to his face, and Laurel knew that if he had demanded she remove her knickers, she would not have dared to disobey him.

She was settling herself into her seat when the redhead pushed open the door of the ladies' and began to make her way back to her table. The girl was wearing a little tartan miniskirt, and Laurel could not help but notice that she was holding the hem surreptitiously, as though afraid that it might ride up as she passed one of the tables. She's done it, Laurel thought. She's really done it.

From where she was sitting, she was not able to see what the couple were doing, but the music from the juke box had faded away, and it was just possible to hear what they were saying if she listened hard.

‘So go on, give them to me,' the man was demanding. His voice had a soft Southern Irish lilt, at once insistent and beguiling.

‘No, Warren, I – I can't,' the girl replied quietly.

‘Oh, yes you can. Or do you want me to haul you over my knee and tan your bare backside in front of everyone here?'

‘You wouldn't.' There was a quality to the girl's voice which suggested that was exactly what she was hoping he would do.

‘I'm waiting, Sara,' was all he said.

There was a long pause, during which Laurel realised she was holding her breath. She could not resist edging round quietly until she was in a position from which the dark-haired man was partially visible, though his companion's back was still turned to her. At last the girl muttered, ‘Here you are.' Laurel thought she caught a glimpse of something white being passed across the table in Sara's fist.

The man the redhead had called Warren took the scrap of fabric from her and held it to his face, as though it was a handkerchief. ‘No wonder you didn't want to give them to me, you little slut,' he said. ‘These are wet.'

The girl muttered something under her breath which Laurel guessed to be words of contrition.

‘It's no good playing the little Miss Innocent with me, when I know the truth, Sara,' Warren sneered. ‘It gets you horny, doesn't it, walking past all the men in here with your arse and your pussy bare to the world, and nobody knowing except me and you.'