Gasping, the brunette slumped in surrender, her breath clouding the table’s polished surface.
‘Eleven thousand buys you quite a lot of pain,’ Bostick snarled, tightening her grip on the ivory shaft. ‘A lot of pain.’
The dildo probed the dark anal whorl, inching into the muscled rectal warmth. Soon, the firm shaft filled the thief completely: she kissed the table in a frenzy of anguish then lapped eagerly, her swollen tongue flattened into the wood.
‘I’ll be back,’ Bostick warned, pincering a finger and thumbful of the upturned bottom and twisting it savagely.
Yvonne, who had fingered herself into a third orgasm as she watched Bostick dominate the thief, dropped her hands down as her dominant partner turned.
‘You,’ Bostick snapped. ‘Strip.’
Yvonne blinked. ‘But –’
‘You belong to me, girl. I own you, absolutely. And any pleasure is mine to give, mine. Not hers,’ she hissed, jerking her thumb at the nude face down across the table.
‘I didn’t mean to –’
‘I saw you,’ Bostick snarled, almost choking on her words in her fury. ‘Enjoying yourself during her punishment. Pain is pain and pleasure is pleasure. If you don’t know the difference, I’m quite prepared to show you. Now get undressed and alongside her across that table.’
Pale and trembling under her partner’s display of wrath, Yvonne rose up from her chair and pleaded with Bostick – but the dominant remained unmoved, feigning indifference as she slowly unbuckled and removed the thin leather belt from her waist.
‘I’m waiting,’ was all she replied.
Yvonne, head bowed in defeat, kicked off her shoes and, unzipping her skirt, wriggled out of its tight embrace. She shuddered as, palming down each shear nylon stocking, she touched the wetness bequeathed by the spanked brunette’s weeping pussy. Bostick, snapping her fingers, demanded the soiled stockings. Bringing them up to her nose – and tongue – she inspected the damning evidence intimately. Yvonne blushed, fumbling with the mother-of-pearl buttons which remained stubborn at the cuffs of her blouse.
‘Just get your panties down and get across that table,’ Bostick whispered, tossing the incriminating stockings aside.
Yvonne thumbed her cotton panties away from her cleft and pubis, gasping softly as the spindling thread of her sparkling arousal stretched, then snapped, splashing in against her naked thigh. Stepping out of her panties, she inched timorously past the belt dangling from her partner’s clenched fist. Bostick retrieved the cotton panties, inverting and exposing them with the splayed fingers of her free hand. Glancing anxiously over her shoulder, Yvonne saw Bostick sniffing the wet patch.
‘Face down across the table,’ Bostick commanded, snapping her belt harshly.
Yvonne approached the edge of the table, her fingertips trembling as they caressed the shining wood. The belt snapped again. Down across the table, the naked thief shivered at the cruel sound of supple leather, tightening her cheeks in a reflex response of fearful expectation. Between her clenched buttocks, the shaft of the dildo suddenly straightened. Yvonne watched, enthralled, as the bending brunette relaxed imperceptibly and the rigid dildo drooped. The thief squealed as Bostick brusquely snatched the ivory shaft away, leaving the pouting anus pink and glistening.
‘No, don’t touch,’ Bostick warned as Yvonne, bending obediently down alongside the thief, nestled into her, thigh kissing thigh. ‘I can make this stretch far enough for two naughty bottoms,’ Bostick whispered softly, fingering the leather belt affectionately then cracking it loudly; its bloodcurdling bark filled the room with the ominous promise of pain.
When Yvonne’s bare buttocks rose up for the lash, quivering two inches away from the proffered cheeks of the naked thief, Bostick positioned herself alongside her victims, her leather belt dangling down from her right hand.
‘Sticky fingers,’ she announced. ‘I’m going to punish you both for your sticky-fingered sins. You –’ she tapped the brunette’s bottom with her furled belt ‘– used your fingers to take that which was not yours to take and you, –’ she continued, teasing Yvonne’s upturned cheeks with the tip of the belt ‘– abused yourself with your fingers, taking for yourself what is mine and mine alone to give you.’
She ordered them to roll over, breasts upwards. ‘Now get your hands up. Palms up. Yes, that’s right, bitch. Over your breasts.’
Bostick swiped the short length of leather down repeatedly, reddening their upturned palms and splayed fingers. Whimpering under the fierce rain of pain, both of her victims flinched and withdrew their hands – only to shriek aloud and reposition their hands instantly as the belt whistled down to lash their breasts savagely. Dreading the burn at their exposed nipples, both submitted to having their sticky fingers punished until Bostick, grunting her satisfaction, ordered them both face down across the table once more.
Standing alongside them, Bostick flexed the leather. The belt rose, hovering for a deliciously dreadful moment above both bare bottoms, then whistled down, biting into both double domes of defenceless flesh. The single swish-slice stroke elicited a double squeal. Again, the punisher’s arm rose, pausing for a heart-stopping moment, then cracked the belt down viciously across the writhing cheeks.
Ignoring their piteous cries, Bostick shifted her weight on to her right foot and levelled the lash, whipping it suddenly inwards against the outer curves of the bare bottoms. Three times in rapid succession, she plied the belt at this angle, leaving reddening lines across the swell of the bunched cheeks where the fierce leather had planted its burning kisses.
‘Sticky fingers,’ Bostick grunted, drawing her thighs together and raising the belt aloft.
Snapping the lash down four more times, she relished the sight of the punished treading their pain into the carpet beneath their grinding toes, snarling with delight at their smothered moans of suffering and feasting over their tightly clenched whipped cheeks.
She administered two more searing strokes, then placed the curled length of leather down on the table before their tear-dimmed eyes. Picking up the dildo, Bostick squeezed it in her palm and knelt down alongside the thief’s trembling thigh. Weighing the ivory in her open palm, Bostick kissed it fleetingly before nudging it in between the shining labial folds.
The brunette hissed out her willing acceptance this time; her bound hands splayed in ecstasy above her striped cheeks as the dildo inched up inside her wet warmth. Her reddened cheeks joggled as she squeezed them together, accepting the cool delight eagerly. Slowly, at first, then with increasing vigour, Bostick wielded the phallus, frequently twisting it to enhance and heighten the pleasure-pain. The brunette cried out aloud, then struggled to bring her thighs together to trap and contain the fierce delight: but Bostick remained in strict control. Kneeling down between the thief’s legs, she positioned herself so that her powerful knees, splayed, kept the nude’s ankles far apart. Leaning in against her victim, she buried her face into the brunette’s punished buttocks, mouthing the striped cheeks and tonguing the belt-weals as she plunged the dildo deeper.
A piercing wail of anguish filled the room. It was not the pre-orgasm shriek of the writhing thief but Yvonne’s shrill whine of resentment. Bostick chuckled, then returned to bite the buttocks before her as her submissive partner sobbed aloud.
‘Me – Not her – Me – Please –’ Yvonne begged, whimpering brokenly for the stern touch of loving dominance Bostick was deliberately denying her.
Bringing the thief to a loud, uninhibited climax, Bostick slowly withdrew the dildo and, shuffling around to kneel before Yvonne’s bare bottom, tenderly nuzzled the glistening tip at the heat of the eagerly widened sphincter.
‘Yes –’ Yvonne hissed, jerking her hips in her frenzy for the shaft. ‘Yes –’
Nuzzling the anal whorl gently, Bostick smiled as she saw the straining buttocks desperately attempting to capture and contain the elusive shaft. Tip-teasing the sticky rosebud crater for several agonising minutes, the dominant ravished her subm
issive into a paroxysm of frustrated yearning.
At the table, face down and sobbing, Yvonne begged. She hammered her fists furiously down on to the wood: but Bostick denied her, cruelly punishing her by slowly withdrawing the tantalising tip of the dildo, after a final, raking flourish down along the yawning length of the hot cleft.
‘No,’ Bostick pronounced solemnly, wiping the snout of the ivory dry on Yvonne’s curved cheek. ‘No pleasure for you, my girl. At least, not now. Later, perhaps,’ she added, holding out the threat of a delicious promise. ‘In bed, tonight.’
Yvonne moaned.
‘Now kneel, both of you. Come on. Down on the floor.’ She untied the nylon tights that bound the brunette’s wrists.
They knelt obediently, gazing up at their tormentress. Bostick stood before them, her skirt once more riding her hips and her panties stretched down, with her dark pubic nest exposed. Both penitents eyed it hungrily.
‘I think you’ve been punished enough,’ Bostick murmured, fingering the thief’s upturned face. ‘In a moment, I will blindfold you, and you will pay full homage to me. Full homage, understand?’
Yvonne began to protest – and was silenced by her stern partner.
‘Understand?’ Bostick whispered, inching her pubic mound towards the brunette’s lips.
‘Yes,’ the thief murmured, licking her lips.
Bostick used Yvonne’s panties – bound tightly with a single nylon stocking – to blindfold the brunette. As Yvonne, kneeling alongside, sniffled miserably, Bostick drew the brunette’s head towards her parted thighs. Seconds later, a soft, liquid lapping sound filled the room. The brunette sucked hard and tongued deeply. Soon, her unbound hands fluttered up to Bostick’s plump hips, framing and steadying them; then the hands slipped around to cup the heavy buttocks, drawing Bostick firmly into her upturned face.
Bostick rose up on her toes, shivering with delight at the fierce hornet down at her oozing hive. Excluded from the tender violence, Yvonne wept bitterly, until Bostick’s fingers reached down and tilted the sobbing girl’s face upwards. Gazing down into the tear-filled eyes, Bostick smiled – signalling her forgiveness.
Yvonne ceased her weeping instantly and opened her mouth to receive and accept two fingers from her stern partner. In rhythm with the darting tongue at her slit, Bostick probed Yvonne’s mouth. For six minutes the three were locked into their private world of pleasure: the thief served her captor devotedly; the captor rode the face of the thief – and forced her stiff fingers into her kneeling partner’s sucking mouth.
Bostick came, wiping her slit repeatedly down across the brunette’s blindfolded face. Yvonne, sensing her dominant partner’s sudden spasms, collapsed down on to the carpet in a violent orgasm. Bostick trod the writhing nude down beneath her foot, increasing her squeals of raw pleasure to fever pitch. Turning her wet face blindly towards the sounds, the brunette struggled to understand.
‘No,’ Bostick gasped aloud, taloning the brunette’s hair and bringing her shining face back between her hot thighs. ‘I’m not finished; neither are you.’
‘And you can use this,’ she added, placing the dildo in Yvonne’s hand. ‘In the special place.’
Eager to outperform the brunette, Yvonne shuffled around, gripping the shaft between her teeth. Kneeling down behind Bostick, she guided the shaft between the heavy cheeks, which Bostick held impatiently apart. Lunging forward, Yvonne drove the dildo in deeply until her face was cushioned, then buried, in the softness of the buttocks.
‘Harder,’ Bostick grunted, dismissing Yvonne’s efforts and praising the brunette busily lapping at her slit.
In a frantic fit of jealousy, Yvonne dropped her hand down, snaking it between Bostick’s parted legs, and tugged at the kneeling thief’s pubic fuzz. The brunette screamed into Bostick’s slit.
The phone rang, breaking into the intimacy of the moment.
‘Get that,’ Bostick ordered, her voice seething with anger.
Yvonne smothered her disappointment, rising up on one knee reluctantly, her face still buried in the bottom before her.
‘At once,’ Bostick prompted curtly.
Easing back from the heavy buttocks, Yvonne stood up and scampered across to the phone. Picking it up, she listened attentively, acknowledged briefly and hung up.
‘Dodgy gold card being used in perfumery,’ she whispered, reluctant to break into Bostick’s intense pleasure.
‘Better get dressed and get down there.’
‘But –’ Yvonne hesitated.
‘Just go and get it sorted,’ Bostick hissed angrily, waving the submissive away and returning to concentrate on her pleasure.
‘That’s not fair. She –’ Yvonne shouted, jabbing her finger down at the kneeling nude. ‘That should be me.’
‘Then watch and learn if you want to take her place,’ came the cruelly whispered retort.
‘But, Bostick –’ Yvonne whined, tears sparkling in her eyes.
Bostick ignored her. Gazing down almost tenderly at the busy-tongued brunette, she gently stroked the nude’s face in both acknowledgement and reward for the hungry lapping at her slit.
Weeping softly, Yvonne struggled bare-bottomed and stockingless into her tight skirt. Zipping it up, she flounced out, banging the door tempestuously behind her.
‘Has she gone?’
Bostick ignored the question and stared at the big close-up on the VCR. Captured in a freeze-frame, the thief was plugging the stolen gemstone up between her plump cheeks. Yvonne watched jealously as her partner tapped the bulging cheeks with a dominant fingertip – and turned away in a pretence of unconcern as Bostick switched the VCR off and rose from her chair.
‘Sort out the card?’
‘Yep. Well over the limit and no repayments for at least six months. Kuwaiti. Stacks of dosh. Accounts extended their limit by a couple of thousand.’ Yvonne paused. ‘So she’s gone, then?’ She managed to keep her tone bright as she bent down to retrieve her stockings and panties.
‘Don’t bother with those,’ Bostick murmured, approaching her partner and snatching them out of her hand. ‘Just go and lock the door.’
‘Going to watch the VCR again?’
‘Just lock it.’
‘But –’
‘And then slip out of that skirt. I want you bare-bottomed for your punishment.’
‘P-punishment?’ Yvonne faltered.
‘Naked and bending, if you please.’
‘No – you can’t –’
‘Oh, but I can and I will,’ Bostick purred softly, gathering up her leather belt once more and furling it twice around her right hand. ‘Punishment. Double punishment, for you, my girl.’
‘D-double?’ echoed Yvonne’s squeal of protest.
‘You daredtoturnher punishment into acheap chance for your own pleasure. Punishment is a serious business, girl, as you are painfully about to discover. Skirt off and bend over.’
The zip slid down despite Yvonne’s trembling fingertips. Seconds later, she was touching her toes like a naughty sixth-former before an angry Head Prefect.
‘And then you dared,’ Bostick continued curtly, skimming her fingers lightly over the buttocks she was about to beat, ‘to show sullen, spiteful resentment when I was doing my duty. I saw your hand go between my legs. I saw you tormenting her –’
‘She was –’
‘Obeying me completely. I was establishing my supreme authority and your petty jealousy nearly ruined my domination and her proper punishment –’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I hated seeing her –’
‘Silence. You know the rules of the game. Break them at your peril, girl.’
The belt cracked down four times in blistering succession, leaving crimson weals where the leather had lashed the naked buttocks. Bostick paused, took a step back, and flicked the belt up between Yvonne’s parted thighs, whipping the leather up into the pussy above. Yvonne squealed.
‘She was a common little thief. I was only teaching her a lesson. You
must curb this possessive, jealous streak, my girl. I was only doing my duty. Like I am doing now.’
Swish-cracking the belt four more times, Bostick whipped the suffering cheeks mercilessly – again bringing the brutal hide up between Yvonne’s thighs to scald the chastised girl’s weeping slit.
‘No – Please –’ Yvonne wailed, stumbling forward in her delicious agony.
‘Back in the punishment position, girl. Bottom up.’
Sobbing, Yvonne obeyed, straining her splayed fingers down to touch her white toes and offering her whipped cheeks up to the hovering belt. But the burning lash did not explode across her cheeks. Instead, Yvonne felt Bostick’s lips at her stripes – and then mewed as Bostick’s tongue lapped at the length of her cleft.
‘So next time, when we have her in here again, naked and at our mercy,’ Bostick murmured, mouthing the words into the punished cheeks, ‘I will only be doing my stern duty.’
‘Again?’ Yvonne hissed, blinking away her tears and jerking her buttocks back into Bostick’s face.
‘She’ll be back, like a cat to its cream. And,’ Bostick whispered, ‘we’ll be ready for her.’
The two top-hatted doormen were furtively ogling a leggy model promenading across the street in the blazing sunshine. A taxi nosed up to the curb. One orange topper was doffed as the taxi door was opened; the other was smartly raised in salute as the brunette in the chic yellow Chanel suit skipped up the marble steps and disappeared through the smoked glass door opened for her.
Swishing her black gloves like an angry cat, the brunette stalked the perfumery. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the security camera up above stalking her progress. She slunk across to the jewellery display, closing on her prey: a large rope of lustrous pearls. Stretching out with feline grace, she snatched up the pearls, enclosing them in her gloved fist. The fist brought the pearls to her cleavage. She shivered slightly as they slithered down between the warmth of her bunched bosoms. Glancing up, she stared directly into the unblinking eye of the camera. The camera dipped and nodded, acknowledging her.
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