She always got a thrill at the thought of being caught though, and it was high on her list of favourite things. Even while Owen was pumping into her this morning, she’d longed for the door to open and one of the other Doctors to come in and catch them. She suppressed a giggle as she sucked on Errol’s toe- what if it had been Errol himself who’d caught them?
Oh, the sheer joy of fucking in public places! The local park on a sunny day, along the canal towpath, or even the supermarket car park. Once, she’d even done it in a graveyard. Come to think of it, that was when Ali had set her up - the Easter weekend when she’d lost her cherry to a boy from the visiting fair.
The memory sent a spiralling tingle from her breasts to her pussy. Releasing Errol’s toe, she skittered her tongue over his satin skin, the colour of black grapes, and left a little trail of saliva as she worked up his leg with slow, sensual flicks. Swirling her tongue in tiny circling movements across his inner thigh, she felt the warmth from his crotch radiate across her face. Skimming her tongue upward, she flicked it in tiny darting movements across his balls, making him groan with pleasure.
Leigh thought again about Owen, how it had all gone pear shaped; how he was blackmailing her to keep her silence. Who the hell did he think he was? But she’d make him pay - there was no way she’d let him off after hitting her again - no had ever hit her.
Yet something was nagging at the back of her mind... something warm and erotic that she couldn’t quite fathom.
She took Errol’s glans between her lips, letting her tongue loiter at the ridge at the base of it. He made little noises deep in his throat as her sensually flicking tongue stimulated the highly sensitive area.
“Suck me, baby,” he croaked between ragged breaths, “suck me.”
She opened her mouth wide and took in the whole length of his impressive shaft. Little tremors passed from her breasts to her clitoris as she felt his cock pulsate deep in her throat. But something was wrong, nagging annoyingly at the back of her mind.
In a flash of revelation she knew what it was. When her flesh had warmed with the sting from Owen’s hand, the feeling hadn’t been wholly unpleasant; in a way, it had been kind of... well, weird... exciting, she supposed.
God! Surely it wasn’t possible to enjoy pain! That was wrong, perverted - wasn’t it? She felt herself tremble. It had to be wrong! Well, no one would ever strike her again and get away with it! She felt sick to the stomach - and unbelievably excited.
She grabbed the base of Errol’s shaft and pulled it out of her mouth. Straightening up, she hauled herself up his gorgeous black, shiny body. Once she was in position she held open her thick, puffy labia with her tapered fingers.
She lowered herself over his smooth-skinned, iron erection, and her hungry sex sucked in his impressive phallus as if it were the first time she’d experienced the thrill. Excitedly, she built up a rhythm as she raised and lowered herself, bringing herself right to the edge of climax.
Errol’s words caught huskily in his throat. “I’m coming, baby!”
His body jerked violently and he yelled as if his team had scored a goal as he shot jet after hot, powerful jet of semen into her tight channel.
For Leigh it was over too soon, and less than half a heartbeat later he’d pulled out of her. With a mumble that could have been gratitude, he turned over and went to sleep.
Rolling resignedly onto her back, Leigh’s furious fingers sought out the hard bud of her clitoris. Hot with fevered need, she rubbed it briskly, trying to bring herself to the elusive climax. That made her think of how she’d brought herself to orgasm in the pub, under Ali’s scrutiny.
Leigh’s muscles tensed. As the tremors of orgasm ripped through her, one word breathed on a sigh escaped from her parted lips. “Ali...”
And in the soft, dreamy afterglow of orgasm, she wondered what her friend was doing tonight.
Chapter Four
It was well after midnight when, with a curt, “thank you” to the chauffeur who delivered the young girl, Ali closed the door. Excited to have what was in effect raw material to work with, without a word of greeting or pretence of kindness, she conducted the petite blonde through to the sitting room.
The young girl belonged to one of the most lecherous individuals in the whole of southern England. But then, as Ali understood it, he’d not had her for long and had acquired her ‘sight unseen.’ Ali smiled a thin smile - the guy would be in for quite a treat by the time she’d finished with her.
At under five feet, the girl tottered about on high, purple stilettos which made her appear taller. Given that this was the first time she’d ever worn them, the ungainly swing it gave to her narrow hips was only to be expected - and would be corrected under Ali’s guidance.
Blessed, or perhaps cursed by her own sexuality, Ali enjoyed the delights to be obtained from males and females alike, the only conditions being that it was she who did the ravishing, she who remained in control. And now, as she brought the girl to a halt in the sitting room, Ali was drawn to the youngster’s alluring innocence.
“Strip!”
“Sorry?” Stunned by the command as well as Ali’s stern appearance, her attention wavered, coming to rest on Ali’s hard, dark nipples which poked through her Basque. The girl’s shy, nervous gaze flicked downward to Ali’s naked lower regions, where elongated pussy lips were visible beneath the thick, black wiry pubes.
The girl dared a question. “What did you say?”
“I said ‘strip!’ you stupid little tart!” Ali tapped a long-handled whip against the side of her leather-encased thigh. The twelve, narrow, leather fronds danced malevolently around the ankles of her high, leather boots. “You know why you’re here, so get on with it.”
Backing off, the wide-eyed girl shrugged out of her coat.
“You don’t ever speak to me without permission,” Ali growled, scowling.
Ashen faced, the girl draped the coat over the back of the low, white-cushioned sofa. Like every other piece of furniture in the room, its black wooden frame shouted of severity in the same way that Ali’s appearance did.
Ali gave an inward smile of amusement. It was obvious from her trembling that the girl was intimidated by Ali’s appearance, as she was indeed supposed to be. Visibly quaking, the poor young thing ran her eyes from Ali’s black leather boots to her Basque. In response, Ali squared her narrow shoulders and set her expression sternly, turning black, hostile eyes upon the young trainee.
“Your name’s Cindy, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Mistress Blackheart, and that’s what you’ll call me.”
Remembering her lessons, the girl gave a little curtsy. She focused her attention on the wicked looking whip which once again tap-tap-tapped against Ali’s thigh, making the leather fronds jiggle menacingly.
As a soft, pink tint of embarrassment stained the girl’s cheeks, Ali used the whip as a pointer, indicating the spot in the centre of the room where she was to stand. Impatient that the stupid girl still hadn’t even started to take her clothes off, Ali regarded her coldly, making a silent appraisal of the shiny costume.
Made from purple PVC, it was an extremely sexy little number, consisting of a short skirt that barely covered her pubic mound, and a tiny bodice, linked to a matching collar by several short chains.
What a bloody waste! Ali thought, noting how the collar was purely decorative and served no real purpose. Her mind drifted back to the chateau, where the collars with which Chantel issued her slaves had many uses, one of which was as an effective means of constraint. But more importantly, in Ali’s view, was the collar’s usefulness in instilling a slave with the correct mental attitude; a collar that couldn’t be removed by the wearer was a very potent reminder of a slave’s inferiority, thereby reinforcing the supremacy of his betters.
“Quickly, girl”, Ali snapped belligeren
tly. “I told you to strip so get on with it, or you’ll soon find out just how black my heart really is!”
The effect on Ali of the blushing girl’s increasingly ham-fisted attempts to hurry was twofold. Firstly, it caused her impatience to turn to anger. Secondly, it set off the familiar, agitated quivers inside her that heralded her growing, gnawing arousal. Fingers of lust reached out and closed around her hardened heart.
Under Ali’s forebodingly dark, imperious gaze, Cindy raised her slender, swanlike arms to undo the back fastening of the collar, her flush deepening with shame. And for Ali, that made the whole thing somehow even more exciting. She sucked in one cheek and with scorn and appreciation in equal parts, watched Cindy’s obviously pained striptease.
In all honesty, the kid wasn’t a bad looker, Ali allowed graciously as she watched Cindy’s trembling fingers pluck clumsily at the bodice’s fastening, at last removing the garment and throwing it aside. To Ali’s delight, the small, perfectly round breasts were tipped with unexpectedly large, deep pink, puckered nipples.
When her clumsy fumbling had finally defeated the its zip, the skirt glided down around Cindy’s legs to settle at her ankles. Slowly, she slid the matching panties down her legs and stepped from them.
“Who shaves your pussy?” Ali enquired phlegmatically, even though her heart was beating nineteen to the dozen.
“I do...” Cindy paused before adding, “Mistress” as if it were painful to even utter the name.
“By choice?” It would probably need doing every day to keep it smooth. Ali greedily feasted her eyes on the girl’s small but beautifully flushed labia. Her exquisite slit was clearly defined, and there was already a tell-tale glistening of moisture, despite Cindy’s apparent reluctance to co-operate.
“No, Mistress. My new Master ordered it.”
Jeeeeez! To poke her fingers up inside Cindy’s tight little love channel! It was with extreme reluctance that Ali tore her eyes away.
Ignoring the demands of her own sensuous, body, Ali settled herself in her favourite chair, the whip still firmly clasped in her hand. Leaning back into the oversized cushions, she took up her favourite pose with her arms resting on the chair’s black wooden arms. Without hesitation or consideration for Cindy’s fragile sensibilities, she spread her legs wide to fully reveal her own, black-thatched pussy. With a swift Crack! of the whip against the side of the chair, she barked her order.
“Kneel.”
Obediently, Cindy settled herself on her knees between Ali’s leather-clad legs and was completely at a loss as to why the mistress seemed even more waspish than before; she hadn’t the faintest idea what she’d done to offend her.
Ali’s lip curled into something like a smile. The girl’s heart would be thumping by now in agitation, and she welcomed the light of terror that shone in Cindy’s eyes as they met her own cold, black gaze. Doing her best to keep the laughter from her voice, Ali addressed the girl crisply.
“I thought you’d been taught at least a dash of respect - it seems I’ve been misinformed.”
Ali raised the whip and brought it crashing down with an expertise that curled the fronds savagely around Cindy’s waist to lash her unblemished back.
Yowling like a street cat as fire stung her soft, naked flesh, at once Cindy remembered how she’d been taught the correct position of submission. Obediently, she bowed her head and crossed her hands behind her back.
Putting as much derision into her tone as she was able, Ali said, “so, you’re an inexperienced little tart that’s only used to fucking men, right?”
Ali knew it was, but the thought of hearing Cindy’s admission added to the thrill, in the same way that the recognition of her supremacy by the correct use of her title always did. Power was the thing, and the shame it generated in her slaves and lovers alike was a drug to which she was addicted.
“You’ve never been with a woman; never sucked her tits or stuck your fingers up her quim. Huh! You’ve no idea what you’re missing.”
She held her breath and waited, and was rewarded with the delightfully quivering voice of the frightened girl.
“Y... yes, I mean no, Mistress B...Blackheart.” Caught by the light, Cindy’s tears sparkled as they trickled from the corners of her innocent eyes.
Electric charges ricocheted throughout Ali’s body. Hell! It was so good to have reduced her to tears. And this early in the proceedings! And as Cindy neared the edge of falling to pieces, Ali determined to extract as much pleasure as possible from the inexperienced young girl who knelt between her legs.
“Stop snivelling. It won’t get you anywhere with me. I’m here to do a job, nothing more. This new master of yours, a guy you’ve yet to meet, is a man of considerable wealth and power. The thing is this - he’s got a strong urge to see his recent acquisition,” Ali tapped the handle of the whip on Cindy’s bowed head, “namely you, make love to another woman. He also wants you flogged and fucked by other men. What he’ll get when I’ve finished with you is a submissive slut who obeys orders and accepts punishment without complaint. Luckily for me, he hasn’t got the guts to train you himself!”
Ali had no time for people with a hankering to see their slaves covered with criss-cross ridges, but hadn’t the stomach to administer the blows themselves. She’d met people who, while demanding that their slave be beaten every day so as never to let the marks fade, couldn’t bring themselves to perform the task themselves. It was almost inconceivable to Ali that anyone in such a position of power would deny themselves the pleasure of administering pain - for her it was the best aphrodisiac of all.
Therefore, she had no qualms about what she was doing, nor her client’s motives; it didn’t matter that she’d not met the individual concerned and was fully aware that she’d not been his first choice. Initially, he’d contacted his friend, the White Goddess to discuss the possibility of sending Cindy to be trained at the chateau. It was Chantel herself who’d recommended Ali, her own protégé, with the endorsement that she was a strict tutor, a harsh disciplinarian with a will of iron.
And so it had been decided. Cindy would be delivered to Ali once a week. While training the youngster for a reasonable fee, as an added incentive she was at liberty to use the girl in any way she saw fit. She’d opted to keep her for one or two nights, then ring to have the chauffeur take her away again.
It seemed the perfect arrangement, and one she intended to exploit to the full. Besides, she thought lecherously, it would be useful preparation for the seduction of Leigh.
Eager to wring every delicious drop of humiliation from the girl between her knees, Ali continued, colouring her language accordingly. “So, you’ve never fucking tasted the sweetness of a woman’s fluids. Then it’s time to start your lessons, you whore of a chickenheart..” Guessing correctly that Cindy blanched at the more emphatic turn of phrase gave Ali an extra kick. Hell! This was so much fun, it was almost more than she deserved... almost. “Lick me out, bitch! Suck the juices from my cunt.”
Mortified, Cindy knelt with her mouth agape.
“Well? Haven’t you got a tongue in that empty little head of yours? Use it, or I’ll beat you so hard you won’t be able to stand for a week, let alone sit down. Lick me!”
“Please, Mistress,” Cindy’s whimpering was an engaging blend of misery and pleading, “don’t ask me to do it.”
“I’m not bloody asking! “ Holding the whip’s stubby handle so tightly that her long nails dug into her palm, Ali raised the whip threateningly, “I’m ordering. Eat pussy - now!”
Knots of arousal tangled then unravelled in Ali’s insides, triggering her sadistic nature. Her glossed, thin lips twitched and her black heart lurched as Cindy’s hot tears of humiliation underwent a change from to a trickle to a downpour over her ever pinkening cheeks.
Long ago cleansed of all feelings of guilt, Ali’s response to the youngster’s sha
me was to wallow in the sheer joy of power that surged in hot torrents through her veins. Her clitoris pounded enthusiastically in anticipation of the delights to come. She must have done something pretty good in a past life to entitle her to such wholly erotic joys now... or something pretty bad. Either way, she hovered on the brink of ecstasy.
As Cindy obediently dipped her head toward Ali’s black-fleeced sex, Ali set the narrow-thonged whip down across her lap. Using two fingers she opened her own engorged labia to reveal the red inner lips. Grabbing the back of Cindy’s head she fiercely ground the girl’s face against her moist slit.
Tentatively, Cindy flicked out her tongue and tasted Ali’s musky, yet strangely fruity juices, her nose buried in Ali’s thick pubes. She retched hopelessly at first, but a censuring dig in the ribs from Ali’s spike heeled boot soon cured that. And when Ali removed her fingers, Cindy began licking the fleshy, elongated outer lips with long, slow strokes. With her knees wide apart and her own pussy beginning to moisten, Cindy shuffled closer, her knees sticking to the polished floorboards.
Snatching up the whip once more, Ali encouraged her with a sharp flick across her back. Cindy’s response was immediate and she pushed the tip of her hot tongue into Ali’s tight, lubricating channel.
Languishing in the erotic warmth that reverberated through her in tiny shock waves, Ali allowed herself a moment’s delusion, imagining it was Leigh who tongued her rather than the stupid little blonde. She closed her eyes and luxuriated in sensations that the delightfully warm, wet tongue engendered, turning her insides to liquid fire.
Oh, if only it were Leigh that knelt submissively between her legs! To have Leigh submit to slavery, pleasuring her Mistress with her soft, pliant lips and snaking carnal tongue - that would be the greatest conquest of all! Of course, Leigh’s first attempts would be equally as clumsy as Cindy’s; her inexperience would soon earn her the punishment Ali had craved to deliver for so many years, and it would be all the more sweet for it.
Mistress Blackheart Page 4
