The sensation was as eerie as it was deliciously dire. The soundless spanks from the rubber-gloved hand exploded as if out of thin air across her upturned cheeks, flattening their curved crowns and burning them with a slow, spreading fire which licked at her cleft and labia, nickering down to ignite her pulsing slit.
The splayed fingers of the dominant hand pressed her rubber-encased head down into the horse. Mandy’s tongue and lips tasted the tight rubber of the mask, finding it just as disturbingly delicious as her bare buttocks found the rubber gloved spanking. Soon she was coming, her wrists in their handcuffs intensifying her sense of utter helplessness and total submission.
Unable to see or hear – or even touch herself – the unique experience of orgasming in restraining bondage was shattering. Her belly imploded as hot waves rippled down to her spasming flesh below. Did Erica know? Was she scrutinising and savouring Mandy’s helplessness? These thoughts and half-formed fears fuelled another – and then another – climax. Dizzy with the dark delights of discipline and total domination, Mandy squirmed and writhed across the leather of the vaulting horse.
A rubber-sheathed finger probing at her wet slit presented Mandy with an unpleasant truth: Erica was not only aware of her orgasm, she was clearly examining – indeed coaxing and controlling – the sequence of climax upon climax. The spanking had ceased after the second of the orgasmic paroxysms, but the rubbered fingers returned to caress her cleft and tease her oozing slit.
The rubber fingertip tapped her anal whorl inquiringly, as if testing the rosebud for the heat of its stickiness. Mandy squeezed her buttocks together as another climax gripped her in its implacable violence – but the probing finger would not be denied its desire. Mandy stiffened, gasping into the moist heat of her rubber mask. The finger worried her tight sphincter determinedly, forcing it to open up like a rosebud. It accepted the intrusion unwillingly, the spasming muscle making entry difficult rather than a smooth glide. Threshing in her bondage, Mandy inched her breasts and belly along the back of the leather horse in a desperate bid to evade the firm finger at her secret flesh. Three severe spanks exploded silently across her hot cheeks, stilling her and staying her tortuous progress. She sank down on the leather, crushed under the cropped blonde’s supreme authority and absolute domination.
Then nothing. What was happening? Where was Erica? What was the cruel dominatrix planning, doing? Gone to collect a wooden spanking paddle or a length of bamboo cane? Was Mandy’s bare bottom to suffer, suffer until Erica herself came? Was the lustful tormentress seeking to achieve her own hot orgasm with a crop in her rubber-gloved hand?
Mandy wriggled, feeling the wetness of her own climax on the leather horse beneath her. The silence, the helplessness, the darkness at her eyes – suddenly these tortures became unbearable. She screamed a silent scream, giving mute tongue to her delicious dread, hearing only a mournful echo of her anguish in her spinning brain. Where was the cropped blonde? What was she doing? Gazing down upon and relishing Mandy’s utter helplessness? Would Mandy shortly be doomed to feel Erica’s tongue, lips and teeth at her spanked cheeks?
Suddenly, before she fully understood what was happening, the handcuffs were removed. Mandy was so startled that she kept her hands and palms together in unholy prayer, at the swell of her punished buttocks. She felt Erica taking her arms and arranging them so that they now stretched out before her. She felt, but could not see or hear, the handcuffs being snapped back at her wrists. Erica withdrew, leaving Mandy helpless and immobile again. In her renewed bondage, Mandy lay still, her mind feverish with dark anticipation and dread imaginings.
Then she remembered the picture. When she was just seventeen, Mandy had stayed at a friend’s flat after catching a Bruce Springsteen gig. Fingering between the paperbacks on a shelf while ice cream, cake and coffee was being rustled up by her old school chum, Mandy had discovered the folio of lascivious French prints. One had made a lasting impression on her curious, pubescent mind.
It was one of a set of naughty-nineties prints from Lille, which the Bishop of Paris had ordered to be publicly destroyed, and Freud had consulted in his essay on female sexuality: it depicted three Belgian firemen surrounding a naked Frenchwoman in her bedroom. The legend at the bottom of the print briefly explained that, while visiting her sister in Ghent, she had overturned her night table, causing her lamp to spill and set fire to the carpet. In the print, the young naked beauty shrank back, cowering in shame from the three uniformed officers, who were each trailing nozzled hoses up between their parted legs. Two of the shining nozzles were dribbling against the woman’s belly and thighs; the third was still squirting a jet from its stiff hose upon her naked bosom.
It was a picture that haunted Mandy’s imagination: a powerful study of shame, humiliation and erotic power. Mandy had often summoned up the image when playing with herself at bathtime or in bed: it was her favourite fantasy. Sometimes she was in the room, as voyeur; sometimes she was the naked beauty penned in by the uniformed firemen; always, when enjoying the potent image, she came.
It had been her first glimpse of female masochism, and it had fuelled many a pussy-rubbing climax. But now, masked and handcuffed across the leather horse, she was experiencing the velvet violence of total domination and discipline. The burning image in her brain of Erica, naked and predatory at the side of the vaulting horse, was infinitely more disturbing than firemen with their splashing hoses.
She felt a hand at her left shoulder, then one gripping her right forearm. Erica was mounting the horse – and then mounting Mandy, easing her pubic curls down on to the hot cheeks of the spanked bottom. Pinning Mandy’s shoulders down as her thighs straddled the buttocks between them, the cropped blonde rode the cheeks she had just chastised. Mandy felt the rasp of the pubic curls against the swell of her buttocks, and jerked and bucked violently to topple the unbidden rider. Erica’s hands slid between the rubber brassiere’s cups and the scuffed hide of the horse. Squeezing dominantly, she instantly asserted her supremacy over her victim. Frozen in her fearfulness, Mandy lay prone and still, unwillingly accepting and all the time hating the outrage visiting her naked bottom. She shuddered as the cropped blonde’s labia splayed apart, smearing her hot ooze on Mandy’s cheeks.
The hands at Mandy’s rubbered bosom taloned the flesh mounds savagely. Mandy squealed a mute protest. Erica’s open flesh-lips grew hotter and wetter against the passive buttocks – soon she was hammering herself into Mandy’s soft bottom. The rhythm broke: the rider stiffened, her thighs taut. Mandy could not smell the feral juices, could not hear the primal scream of ecstasy – but despite being deaf, dumb and blind to Erica’s orgasm, Mandy knew that the cropped blonde had come.
Eight
She had been brought, blindfold and naked, to the room an hour after sunrise. Erica had made no mention of Mandy’s escape attempt – or the sequel of punishment and domination – as she led her stumbling captive down the carpeted stretch of the Long Gallery. They had turned abruptly to their left: Mandy knew at once that she was being shepherded into the lair of a dominant resident. Inside, having forced Mandy to kneel, Erica withdrew.
The sounds of sucking filled the air: of lips devouring juicy flesh. Grapefruit, Mandy decided, decoding the noise. She would have to remain kneeling patiently while the dominant devoured her late breakfast. Mandy strained to catch the sounds of the breakfast table, the chink of a coffee cup, the scrape of a buttered knife across golden toast. Only the sound of the fierce sucking greeted her efforts. Mandy felt uneasy, hating the blindfold at her eyes.
She decided to risk a quick peep. If detected, it would only earn her a stripe or two across her bare buttocks. Clenching her cheeks expectantly against the sudden lash, she pretended to draw her hand back through her hair, surreptitiously lifting the blindfold a fraction as she did so.
Two naked beauties, locked into a soixante-neuf, lay curled up on the carpet before her. The sucking intensified as both mouths worked hungrily: not at the moist pulp of breakfast grap
efruit as Mandy had supposed, but at the more succulent flesh of wet labia. The blindfold had only been inched up for a split second, but Mandy had captured the scene before her in its entirety. It remained etched vividly on her retina: the curled, naked women; the embracing, sinuous limbs; the hot eyes drowning in lust; the delicious blonde curls tossed in abandon and, above all, the fact that the two naked women were identical twins.
The sucking became more frenzied. Gasps and smothered moans filled the air. Mandy felt her own slit prickle with interest as the carnal feasting came to a climax. From the sounds that followed, she sensed that the couple were now stretched out on the carpet, momentarily spent and sated.
‘Take off your blindfold.’
The voice was Nordic. Finnish, Mandy thought. It had a peculiar sing-song lilt, the tone sinewed with a metallic crispness. Whatever its origin, Mandy knew that it was the voice of an accomplished disciplinarian and dominatrix.
‘Quickly.’
Mandy obeyed, her bosom rising as she raised her hands to untie the blindfold, then bouncing softly as her fingers fumbled at the knot. The scene that greeted her gaze was unsettling. Two naked thirty-year-olds, severe and unsmiling, were standing hip to hip, thigh to soft thigh. They stared down at Mandy, devouring her kneeling body with hungry eyes. Mandy gazed up shyly, secretly astounded at how similar they were. Never before had she seen twins so utterly identical: and their nakedness emphasised the likeness. She marvelled at the untamed, tumbling blonde curls, the ice-blue eyes, the slender shoulders, the heavy breasts and tapered hips. It was exactly as if there were one deliciously dominant nude standing next to a long mirror – but then Mandy spotted the difference: one nude was shaven at the pubis, the other sported a bush of golden fuzz.
Mandy raised her left hand up to her ear lobe and tugged at it nervously. The twins advanced, their thighs brushing gently, their heavy bosoms bobbing. They trod the carpet with naked feet, their silent footfalls loud with exquisite menace. Mandy, kneeling, suddenly found her lips three inches from the shaven pubis. Her mouth went dry. The pulse at her throat gathered momentum, becoming deep and rapid.
‘Lick me. I want you to lick me,’ came the lilting command.
Mandy pressed her warm lips against the delta, parted them and flickered her tongue out. The flesh was soft and sweet, like probing a ripe damson. Working her tongue cautiously, she teased the pink clitoris.
‘Harder. You can do better than that. Or be made to do better.’
Redoubling her efforts, Mandy lapped feverishly, knowing that, if she failed to please, the cane or crop would surely fall down across her bare bottom.
‘Faster,’ came the stern injunction.
Mandy closed her eyes and tongued the sweet flesh furiously. To her alarm, the other twin stalked around behind her and straddled Mandy’s shoulders with warm, wide buttocks. Mandy flinched from the graze of pubic fuzz at the nape of her bowed neck, but the delta kissed her skin firmly as, above, the twins embraced and kissed. Opening her eyes and looking up, she saw the delicious swell of the breasts, nipples peaked, of the shaven twin. The naked blondes kissed passionately, and the rounded bosoms bounced, as Mandy’s wet, muscled tongue probed deeper and deeper.
The dominant being tongued gave Mandy crisp commands. When doing so, the shaven nude spoke distinctly in almost perfect English. Between themselves, they chattered rapidly, their clicking consonants and terse vowels alien to Mandy’s ear. Icelandic, she decided eventually.
They spanked her next. It was, at the beginning, a playful bout of erotic dominance in which they imprinted their authority with smooth palms across Mandy’s quivering cheeks. She was arranged across the thighs of the shaven twin and trapped into the punishment position: one slender hand at her neck, one slender leg trapping and controlling her thighs. Before the slaps rained down, a flattened palm had circled her naked cheeks firmly, exploring every inch of the helpless, supple flesh. Mandy tightened her buttocks as the palm curved, expertly moulding itself to the swell of her cheeks. A dominant finger – whose, she did not know – traced the outline of each peach-cheek before settling halfway down the crease of her cleft at her anal whorl.
Mandy inched her bottom up, unashamedly relishing the imperious fingertip. Deep in her cleft, her rosebud grew warm and sticky. Aroused, she was now impatient for the stinging caress of the spanking hand across her upturned cheeks. The dominant twins were in no hurry. They inspected Mandy’s vulnerable nakedness intimately, dimpling the crowns of her creamy flesh-mounds with squeezed fingertips while working their thumbs at her sphincter.
The suspense made Mandy’s belly coil up like a tightened spring. She wriggled across the naked thighs, wobbling her cheeks invitingly, but they did not succumb, choosing instead to maintain their absolute dominance and total control. Mandy writhed under their reign of supremacy, and struggled to provoke the punishment she had dreaded, but now desired.
The shaven blonde swept her hand across the soft curve of both cheeks. Palm upward, she dragged her knuckles across each heavy buttock, then knuckled the cleft, spreading the cheeks apart. The second twin lowered her face down. Mandy could feel the warm breath at her sphincter, and the controlling hand at her neck tightening. Mandy clenched her buttocks in self-protection, but the tongue dipped down to taste the flesh splayed apart by the knuckled hand.
Mandy threshed, squealing and protesting, as the unshaven twin knelt firmly against her, burying her entire face into the softness of her bottom. Soon the lapping, then the probing, became unbearable. Mandy felt her inner muscles spasm as the thick tongue explored the length of her velvety cleft.
The spanking followed immediately. Across the thighs of the more dominant twin, Mandy sweetly suffered three and a half minutes of severe, intimate punishment. The sharp staccato of spanks echoed around the room as the chastised cheeks bounced and slowly turned pink, then crimson, then scarlet.
Mandy ground her wet slit across the supporting thighs over which she was spread and pinioned. Delighting in the discipline, she surrendered her bare bottom to the blonde. The spanking ceased, for the moment. With maddening politeness, the dominatrix relinquished her ownership of the hot cheeks and offered Mandy’s buttocks to her twin to chastise. The kneeling blonde, who had tongued Mandy so expertly, accepted the offer and spanked Mandy harshly. Mandy bucked and squirmed, the climax welling up within her now imminent – only a few sharp spanks away.
The spanks did not come. Suddenly, Mandy felt the heavy bosom of the shaven nude, over whose lap she was stretched, crush down and pin the other twin’s hand to the cheeks she had just punished with her palm. The trapped hand slowly slid out from beneath the breasts, leaving the deliciously warm weight nestling dominantly on the spanked cheeks. Mandy cried out with raw pleasure as the fiercely peaked nipples burned into the satin skin of her buttocks – then whimpered as her orgasm spilled out in spasms of gentle violence.
With the bare breasts dominating her spanked bottom, Mandy came. As she paroxysmed, the kneeling twin fingered two slits: Mandy’s and her own wet crease, probing each tightened flesh in rhythmic unison. Rocketing into a fresh orgasm, Mandy moaned long and loud. The nude twins remained cool, silent and seemingly aloof, their very indifference fuelling Mandy’s renewed climax.
Iceland: the home of volcanic steam, boiling lava and frosted ice. They came from the land of glacial fire, embodying the eternally frozen inferno. This knowledge, and the knowledge of their self-control, burned with a sweet heat in Mandy’s brain, torching a third, then a fourth orgasm. Control and domination, she had discovered, were sweet, but to be so hot, punished and naked, to be so stickily aroused and so urgently kindled by the lips, tongues and hands of these identical ice-maidens was sweeter still – the sweetest surrender and submission she had ever known or imagined.
Leaving her curled up on the carpet, they withdrew, pausing to sip vodka and champagne cocktails from a single, fluted glass. The shaven twin took the ice cube from the cocktail and plied her labia with it, rubbing the smilin
g flesh-lips with firm, downward strokes. Taking the red cherry out, she sucked on it hard then thumbed it into her flesh just below the clitoris. Kneeling, her twin plucked out the glistening cherry between her teeth. Mandy shuddered as she watched the teeth slice the cherry in half, and shuddered again as the two pieces of cherry disappeared into the naked blonde’s mouth.
Mandy, now kneeling on the carpet, was studiously ignored. She ached with resentment, eager for their acknowledgement and chaffing at their indifference. Momentarily exiled from their erotic realm, she desired to be readmitted – on almost any terms imaginable.
Abandoning the cocktail, the twins returned to where Mandy knelt, encircling her with soundless footsteps. The dominant twin stood, legs astride, in front of Mandy, while her twin knelt down behind: Mandy shivered at the rasp of the pubic curls against her recently spanked, and still sore, bottom. Cupping Mandy’s breasts, the kneeling twin held them in a squeezing, vice-like grip. Mandy thrilled to the sensation of her nipples thickening into the controlling palms. Pulling her captive backwards, the twin pulled Mandy down on to the carpet. Swiftly mounting, the unshaven twin lowered her fleshy buttocks down on to Mandy’s upturned face. The soft warmth of the descending bottom squashed and smothered Mandy for a brief moment, a brief moment in which sight and breathing were denied, a brief moment of exquisite torment and delight. Shuffling slightly, the twin eased her buttocks slightly, allowing her victim to breathe.
Mandy gulped for air, her hands pawing at the carpet as the scissoring thighs tightened their grip, trapping and controlling her torso and rendering her immobile. The heavy cheeks pressing into her face rose a fraction as her tormentress leant forward and threaded her arms beneath Mandy’s knees. Then the plump rump settled firmly down again as the arms gathered up Mandy’s legs and dragged them up from the carpet. Once her legs were raised up, strong hands parted them at the thighs, exposing her wet fig. Mandy could not see, but could both sense and then feel, the presence of the other twin, the shaven vixen, kneeling down at her exposed delta. The unseen mouth closed on her, lips and tongue busy at her slit. Mandy struggled, but to no avail. The devilish twins were determined in their enjoyment of her: one pinning her down contemptuously with her bare bottom, the other mouthing her splayed labia with absolute impunity.
The Mistress of Sternwood Grange Page 20
