Domination Inc. (7 page)

‘That, too,' he ordered her.

Joanna demurred for the merest second, knowing that her hesitation would be reported to her unknown master. That would no doubt count as another slap or three on her backside, and she wondered whether a part of her secretly wanted to increase the severity of her paid-for chastisement. Her hands fumbled behind her back, then her bra joined the discarded blouse in the pile of her clothes that was forming on the floor. She was aware that her large, chocolate-coloured nipples were already stiff and heavy, announcing her obvious arousal. The blond's eyes never left them; she felt humiliated beneath his impartial gaze, but found herself welcoming the sensation. He was not allowed to admire her; his duty was simply to prepare her for her master, and in this he was as much a chattel as she.

She slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of her knickers, prepared to remove those, too, but he shook his head. Instead, he removed a set of handcuffs from his jeans pocket, and ordered her to place her hands behind her. Grasping her by the wrists, he slipped on the cuffs. He gave her one last, not entirely unsympathetic appraisal, then pushed her through the door and marched her down a dingy corridor to the next room.

‘Wait here,' he said, and left her.

The room was as bare and functional as the first. There was no furniture, no way in which she could make herself comfortable. She had no idea how long she stood there. Perhaps twenty minutes passed while she contemplated what was to happen next. Her breasts ached with anticipation, and there was a dull throbbing between her thighs.

Suddenly the door flew open, and he entered. He was dressed as she had requested, in a battered biker's jacket over a dark plain T-shirt and skin-tight black jeans. His short black hair was gelled into fashionable spikes and he had a neatly-trimmed goatee beard. His eyes were cold and hard and unforgiving, and she dropped her head before his gaze.

He circled her slowly, taking in every inch of her bound, shapely form. She gave a gasp as he grabbed hold of her hair and yanked her face up to meet his own.

‘Not bad – for a wanton, idle slut,' he conceded finally. ‘Christian tells me you need to be punished for your tardiness. Is that true?'

So Christian must be the blond, Joanna thought to herself. ‘I – I don't know,' she stammered.

‘I don't know – what?' His tone was harsh.

‘Master.' The unfamiliar word burned on her tongue.

‘That's better.' He circled her again as he spoke. ‘Yes, you certainly are in need of punishment. You know I'll make you beg, don't you, slut? When that first blow lands on that pert little backside of yours, you'll beg me to stop, and yet, in your heart, you'll be begging me to carry on, to give you the treatment you know you deserve.'

His hand roamed over the cheeks of her arse, caressing the soft flesh through the thin cotton of her knickers. Without another word, he inserted his thumbs into the waistband and yanked the flimsy garment down around her ankles. Contemptuously, he pushed her legs slightly apart, and ran an inquisitive finger over her tufty blonde pubic hair and into her cleft. As they had both expected, it came away slick with her viscous, musky juices.

‘Bend over.'

Quickly she obeyed, anxious to avoid any extra strokes. Her position was slightly precarious, with her hands still bound behind her back and her breasts stretched out like taut cylinders of flesh. He fondled her hanging nipples, squeezing them roughly between finger and thumb. The unexpected pain made her gasp at the same time as her pussy twitched and moistened further.

‘Perfect,' he muttered, and for the first time she thought she detected a hint of approval in his voice. She had no further time to think of anything as the first slap landed, hard and stinging, on her left buttock. A second followed with alarming rapidity, this time on her right. She wanted to cry out, but she thought that might anger him and earn her a couple more blows. Her fantasies had not prepared her for the shocking pain of her initiation into spanking, nor for its twin attendant, the throbbing undercurrent of pleasure that was making a furnace of her sex.

He was thorough in his attentions; whoever he was, this was not the first time he had doled out a spanking. His palm was covering the taut flesh of her cheeks, never seeming to settle on the same place twice, so that every centimetre of her skin was reddened and smarting.

At last his hand was still. ‘Very good, slut,' he muttered. ‘I never thought you'd take all that without a sound.' He sounded almost admiring, and she wanted to turn her head and flash him a smile of gratitude. His next words pushed that thought from her mind. ‘I haven't heard you beg, yet, have I?'

His palm smacked hard against her buttocks again. His earlier attentions had sensitised her nerve-endings, so that now she felt each blow with increased severity. When his hand moved down to tan the soft crease where the flesh of her bottom met the tops of her thighs, she could not prevent a squeal of anguish from escaping her lips. She thought that might earn her a reprieve, but the reverse seemed to be true. She shuddered, fearing she might lose her balance, but he was holding her steady, his arm around her waist and the flat of his hand pressing against her pubic mound, making her want to squirm and press herself against it. Despite the ache in her buttocks, which she was finding impossible to ignore, she was almost unbearably aroused.

She lost count of how many slaps landed on her unprotected backside, and wondered how she looked to him, her creamy flesh mottling with a tracery of vicious scarlet prints. God only knew how she would manage to sit down in the office the following day. At last she cried out, ‘Please, I'm sorry, Master.' Tears welled in her eyes, born as much of frustration as pain.

And then she was aware that the spanking had stopped for a second time, and his fingers were tracing a path over his handiwork, circling her flaming buttocks and coming to rest in the crease between them. One finger moved lightly over her weeping sex and she wriggled beneath his touch, desperate to feel it inside her. But it was merely gathering her juices and smearing them, she realised with shocking clarity, over her other, forbidden entrance.

His index finger penetrated deeply into her rosy arsehole. She tightened against the unexpected intrusion, before relaxing, realising that this was her ultimate humiliation. His thumb pressed hard against her clit, but he did not rub her, and she knew instinctively that if she wanted to come, she was going to have to do the work. She thrust against him, humping his hand, making mewling noises as she sought her release, while all the time his finger probed relentlessly inside her arse. Mere seconds later, a dizzying spasm exploded in her gut and she came, slumping against him.

He brought her gaze up to meet his own once more. His expression was unfathomable. ‘Very good, slut,' he smiled, ‘but you aren't finished yet.'

She watched as he slowly unzipped his jeans, bringing his cock out into the light. It was not as long as her fantasy might have willed it, but it was thick, with a taut, glistening head and a lengthy foreskin that was already beginning to retract.

‘Suck it, slut,' he ordered.

Obediently, she dropped to her knees, and took its purplish tip between her lips. Her hands still cuffed, she was unable to cradle his taut balls as she might have liked, and she concentrated on taking his length deeper into her gullet. He tasted clean and masculine, and she licked with relish at his swollen glans. Risking a glance upwards, she saw that his eyes were half-closed in pleasure, and he was making low crooning noises in his throat.

She lapped and nibbled at his penis, running her tongue in intricate patterns over his cock-head. A ring of her pale pink lipstick, which seemed so demure and functional in the office, was smeared around the base of his shaft, in lewd contrast to the dark, blood-engorged flesh. She felt as though she could have gone on sucking him all night.

As his climax approached he took hold of her hair once more, so she could not pull her mouth away. He grunted and came, and deposited a wad of thick spunk into her mouth. She swallowed most of it, but a small trickle escaped from her lips and ran down her chin.

He released his grip on her and zipped himself up once more, before taking a tiny key from his jeans pocket and unlocking her handcuffs.

‘Well done, slut,' was all he said as she rubbed the feeling back into her tired wrists.

‘Thank you, Master,' she replied, and then he was gone.

 

Half an hour later she was standing, dressed once more in her respectable business clothes, outside a subway station a couple of stops from home, watching the four-wheel drive recede into the thinning flow of evening traffic. She thought again of her master, or the man who had played him. He had been excellent, everything she could have wanted, and yet she didn't even know his name.

Joanna's sore bottom ached pleasurably as she slipped her travel pass into the slot and made her way through the barrier. She tried to analyse the feeling, knowing she would need to be in a situation like that again soon.

There was a tatty flyer on the seat of the train when she went to sit down. All it had on it was a drawing of a set of handcuffs, the address of a club in the west of the city and the coming Friday's date. She tucked it surreptitiously into her coat pocket, aware there was a contented smile on her face as she began her short journey home. Domination Inc. had opened the door for her, and now she was ready to step inside the secret world of submission and mastery, and explore her sexuality to the full. Joanna gave a silent thank you to Laurel, and to Christian and his dominant companion, and wondered whether, somewhere close by, someone else was receiving as fulfilling an experience as she had so recently enjoyed.

 

In a small, freshly-painted office over a travel agency in Soho, three people sat round a desk, toasting each other with sparkling wine in polystyrene cups.

‘I can't believe how well that went,' Warren said, lounging back in his chair to rest his legs, crossed at the ankles, on the cluttered desktop. His grey eyes shone with self-satisfaction. ‘We gave her exactly what she asked for, and she loved it.'

‘It's all right for you,' Christian replied, reaching for the wine bottle and topping up his companions' cups. ‘You were the one who got to spank that incredible arse of hers, while I was stuck in the next room, listening. Next time, Laurel, can you take a booking from someone who wants to be watched while they're being punished, or preferably someone who likes blonds.'

‘So you think there'll be a next time?' Laurel asked.

‘Definitely,' Warren assured her. ‘There are plenty more where Ms Morrison came from, just dying to have someone tell them what to do.' He took a swallow of his wine, and fixed Laurel with a hard stare. ‘I've never found a woman who didn't want to submit, deep down. Even the ones like Elisha, who reckon they're pure dominants, just sometimes they feel the need to switch.'

‘And what about dominant men?' Laurel replied. ‘Do they ever want to switch, too?'

Warren shook his head. ‘I never have.' He drained the last of his wine, crushed the cup in his fist and tossed it, without looking, towards the waste-bin. Laurel waited for it to miss its target. The fact that it didn't increased her irritation with the man all the more.

‘And so, suddenly, you've got the authority to speak for dominant men everywhere?' she shot back.

‘Come on, Laurel, if you had all the power in a situation, would you want to give it up?'

‘I thought it was the submissive who had all the power,' she said. ‘I mean, look at Joanna Morrison. You might have been spanking her, but she set all the rules. She told you what her limits were, and she made you stop when she wanted to. I think that makes her pretty powerful, don't you?'

‘You think so?' Warren replied, coming to stand by her, so she had to look up at him from her seated position. ‘She set the rules because she was paying for it. And every submissive woman thinks she knows what her limits are, but I've never met one who wouldn't let you bend those limits. They all love it when you push them that little bit further than they've ever gone before.' He grinned, sure in the knowledge of what he was saying. ‘And if I have no power, how come Sara, or any one of a dozen girls, would drop everything and come running if I clicked my fingers and told them they deserved a good hiding?'

‘You don't half fancy yourself,' Laurel snapped.

‘Yeah, well, you can't deny that you fancy me, too.' Warren took hold of her arm and dragged her to her feet. Christian was watching the two of them with undisguised interest, wondering where this little scene was leading.

‘Warren, please…' Laurel knew her response was half-hearted, but put it down to the fact that it had been a long day, and she had expended a lot of energy worrying about the success of their first job.

‘Please what?' His tone was mocking. He stood behind her, pulling her on to him, so that she could feel his erection pressing into the small of her back. ‘Don't tell me, you'll put this down to the power of a woman, too. Oh, Christian will agree with me, you women have got the power to get us hard, sometimes without even knowing you're doing it, but it works both ways.' He lowered his voice, whispering sensually into her ear, ‘What would happen if I slid my hand into your little knickers now and found you were wet? Who'd be responsible for that, eh?'