Mistress Blackheart

by Francine Whittaker

  “Coffee, Owen?”

  Despite the sudden re-emergence of feeling, she employed another of the polished performances she’d perfected to shield herself, by keeping her voice flat and emotionless. Standing by the side of his chair, she gripped the coffee pot so tightly that her fingers turned white. Of course, if she were to accidentally-on-purpose spill it...

  Owen folded his morning paper and laid it down on the breakfast table. Without a word or even the briefest of glances to acknowledge his wife’s presence on the planet, he slid his empty coffee cup from its set position to the corner of the table where she stood.

  If there was one thing Nina hated, it was being ignored. Her bottom lip quivered as she struggled to keep the floodgates closed on the unshed tears of years. How was it, she wondered, that after all this time that he still had the power to hurt her? Why did she even care? She promised herself that she’d somehow find a way to make him pay for the years of emptiness.

  Once again she considered the consequences of pouring the hot liquid over him, toyed with the idea of humiliating him by sending him to work in a dirty shirt. Except that he had a drawer full of clean ones. What she’d really like to do was go upstairs and toss them all out of the window and into the street below. She’d like the good people of this town to know what a louse the good doctor really was!

  Coming out of her brief reverie, she filled his cup before walking back across the kitchen. Plonking the coffee pot down on the worktop, she stood with her back towards him.

  “What did you tell Terence that for?” she busied herself with the usual, unnecessary tidying up before the cleaning lady arrived. “What on earth will he think?”

  Owen still didn’t look at her as he buttered his toast. But then, he hardly ever looked at her. His wife had ceased to amuse him years ago. While he’d be the first to acknowledge that she had a better than average figure, some would say she could have made a fortune by posing for the camera, he’d always found her lovemaking rather mechanical.

  “I don’t give a shit what Terence thinks! I told him the truth, that I’m running late and that my wife and I are having problems. Heaven knows there’s never been anything else but problems in our marriage. For the first time he looked at her, “and I don’t like your sneaking down the stairs to listen to my private calls.”

  Gripped by an overflowing of pent-up emotions, Nina swung round with a wooden spatula in her hand. She pointed it at him as she spoke, anger glinted in her eyes like hot coals.

  “I remind you, Owen, that Daddy bought this house. I don’t have to sneak anywhere. Unlike you, creeping in at all hours of the morning. Who is she this time, another patient? One of those sweet young things that comes to you for contraceptive advice? You’ll be struck off one of these days!”

  “I wouldn’t have to go elsewhere if you were a real wife! When was the last time you opened your legs for me?” He turned his attention back to the breakfast table and reached for the marmalade.

  Nina ignored the remark. “As for listening to your calls, how could I help but overhear when the phone’s on the hall table at the bottom of the stairs? You were already speaking to Terence as I came down.”

  “You were eavesdropping! Besides, if you hadn’t been so late getting up,” he dug his knife around the bottom of the marmalade jar, “you would’ve already been in the bloody kitchen.”

  He spread the remains of the marmalade over his toast, took a bite, then continued.

  “What kind of wife are you? You’ve got cleaning ladies, gardeners, even someone to collect and return the dry cleaning! What bloody use are you? What the fuck do you do all day? Sit on your lazy backside gossiping with your hoity-toity friends from the Ladies Of Overseas Charity League? Huh! The most you’ve ever raised for charity is your skirt for the chairman at last year’s Doctors Benevolent Fund dinner.” He glanced at the kitchen clock. “You’re a waste of space as a wife. You know I’m due at the surgery- the fucking least you could do of a morning is prepare a decent breakfast.”

  Nina stalked back across the kitchen towards him, spatula in hand. Raising it as she drew alongside him, for a moment it hovered in mid air above his head. She took a deep breath and lowered her arm. One of these days she’d teach him a lesson. Walking round the table she threw the spatula aside, pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.

  “If you don’t like the way I run things around here, you can move out. But you won’t do that, will you, not while my money’s funding your little jaunts! Incidentally, I know about the earrings.”

  “What earrings?” His face was a picture of innocence as he took another bite.

  Nina laughed bitterly. She watched as he put the toast on his plate to sip from his coffee cup.

  “The ones you bought at that high class London jeweller’s last month. It was careless of you to leave the receipt in the writing bureau. Who were they for,” she tried to gauge his reaction as he replaced the cup and reached for his toast, “that little trollop you’ve had stashed away on Tewkesbury Street for the past three years?”

  His hand froze midway between his plate and his mouth. How long had she known?

  “God only knows what they see in you, Owen. You look like a bloody goldfish!” She inhaled deeply to steady herself before dropping the bombshell. “I want a divorce.”

  His reaction wasn’t the one she’d anticipated. He merely laughed, almost choking on his toast in the process.

  “Now I know you’re joking! Think of the scandal. You see, I’ve got something on you, too.” He waited the briefest moment before continuing. “What would Claire Rankin and your other friends at the Choral Society say, or your pals from the Pony Club, if they were to find out about your little... fling... with the Reverend Sophie Boyd? Or that young chap... what’s his name? Ah yes, Kevin, the eighteen year old across the street. No, I think our marriage is safe for the time being.”

  “We don’t stone unfaithful wives in this town!” Inwardly, she gave a sigh of relief, As long as he didn’t find out about her other little predilections she could maybe bluff it out. Either that or she’d have to forfeit the house and leave him. “If it’s good enough for you...”

  “Don’t give me that, Nina! At least I don’t fuck with my own kind. You like your bread buttered both sides. Women like you make me sick. What are you, some church-trawling dyke, or a cradle-snatching pervert?”

  He snatched up the marmalade jar. Drawing back his arm, before she had time to react he flung it at her, catching her squarely on the jaw.

  “Bastard!” She cupped her face in her hand, as if that could somehow take the pain away, and closed her eyes.

  Beside her in an instant, Owen kicked at her chair.

  “Get up! Spread your legs and see what it’s like to be fucked by a man!”

  She opened her eyes, and was struck by the glittering rage in his. She hadn’t seen him this angry for years. Easing back her chair, Nina stood up. If only there were some way to teach him a lesson.

  Owen dragged the chair away with such force that it fell and clattered to the floor.

  “Lean forward, with your hands on the table.”

  When she didn’t comply, he put a hand in the small of her back and shoved her forward, so that her full breasts were flattened against the table. Before she had time to straighten up, he yanked down the zip of his trousers. He leant forward, and with one hand between her shoulder blades, he held her down and used his other hand to hike her pleated skirt up around her waist. He dragged her panties down to her knees.

  With his mouth open, he inhaled deeply. It was so long since he’d seen any part of her naked that he was immediately struck by the beauty of her fleshy buttocks, separated into two perfect globes by a deep channel.

  He extracted his throbbing, rigid penis from his spotted boxer shorts. With both hands, he made a grab at her backside. Quivering fl
esh spilled over his hands. Lust heated his balls and surged upward as he thrust his hips forward. His cock disappeared between the fleshy cheeks and nudged against the tight, puckered skin, demanding entry.

  “No, Owen, please...”

  “Don’t tell me it’s still a virgin hole!”

  “You do this to me, and I’ll...”

  “Don’t threaten me! You’re my wife and from now on, you’re going to give me exactly what I want.”

  He moved his hands to her hips and gripped her tightly. Without thought of lubrication, in one swift movement he lunged forward. She screamed in agony as the tip of his cock broached the barrier. Fire lit up her entire back passage as his shaft buried itself up to the hilt in her backside.

  “You bastard!” Nina clenched her teeth and screwed up her eyes in an effort to endure the pain. “You’ll pay for this!”

  As suddenly as he’d thrust his cock in, he extracted it. Again she screamed, the agony as great on the way out as it had been on the way in.

  Still gripping her with one hand, he delved between her thighs with the other and parted her labia.

  “You’re wet! You want it as much as I do.”

  “Not with you I don’t!”

  “I suppose you’d rather have the Vicar with her strap-on!”

  Releasing his grip on her hip, he used his hand to guide his penis towards her vagina. Then, for the first time in more years than he could remember, he thrust his cock deep into her sex.

  Nina clenched her teeth. She’d get her own back if it was the last thing she ever did...

  ***

  Ali’s black leather boots came up to her knees and had the highest, narrowest spiked heels that Leigh had ever seen, and her slicked back hair and harsh, outrageous make-up shouted of pent-up aggression.

  Sitting at the back of the waiting room, the tight-fitting, black leather trousers pressed deliciously against Ali’s mons squeezing against her pussy lips so that every movement rubbed the leather against them in an erotic caress. She’d teamed the trousers with an equally tight-fitting, black leather jacket worn zipped up to her neck to encase her in warm sensuality and beneath which she was naked.

  Outwardly, she appeared cold and commanding, yet inside she was a cauldron of seething lust. She was only sorry she hadn’t had time to thrash the adorable Cindy again. Surprised at the intensity of feeling the youngster had aroused within her, Ali knew she’d have to make a move on Leigh soon or go mad with wanting. Once, she’d missed the warmth and affection that only a lover can give but now her cold, sadistic nature grew stronger by the day. To watch skin turn red with the heat of humiliation sharpened her sexual appetite, and to hear sobs and screams as faces became contorted with pain had her chomping at the bit. Observing human flesh quiver beneath the lash was an absolute joy, the prelude to mind-blowing orgasms.

  Ali gave an inward shrug; that’s what comes of being brought up with tales of sadistic forebears, she guessed. While other children were put to bed with fairy tales of big bad wolves and gingerbread houses, Ali’s bedtime stories had been about wicked Magistrate Maitland. Under the camouflage of upright citizenship that the law of the day provided him with, he’d tortured his opponents, along with the victims of his lust, in the specially equipped cellar of his manor house.

  Of course, there’d always been a healthy supply of young virgins amongst their number, and the thought of the helpless girls twisting and writhing on his rack or undergoing a severe flogging sent bolts of electricity blazing through Ali’s vagina.

  Her lips curved into a tigerish smile; her eyes never left her prey with the voluminous, red-gold hair. Her thoughts hovered mistily between the erotic pleasure to be gained by seducing Leigh with kisses and the tantalizing notion of taming her by force. She knew she was treading on thin ice; if Leigh had even an inkling of what was on her mind, she’d flee in an instant.

  ***

  9.45, and still no sign of Owen. Sitting at the desk behind the glass partition, Leigh scanned the battalion of scowling patients in the waiting room. If he didn’t arrive soon, there’d be hell to pay.

  She wasn’t particularly anxious to see him again after his nocturnal visit, but the thought of postponing the meeting didn’t exactly thrill her, either. She knew her own threats were useless; without Ali’s leadership she’d never be vindictive enough to carry them through and destroy him. Nevertheless, he’d have no qualms about destroying her!

  Without even a glance towards the back of the room, she knew Ali’s dark, kohl lined eyes were upon her. Whatever Ali wanted, it certainly wasn’t an appointment; she wasn’t registered here as a patient. Leigh’s hunch was that Ali was trying to work the old magic, win her over until she was so deeply under her spell that she’d do virtually anything asked of her. Just like the old days, when the girls were a force to be reckoned with. They’d never landed themselves in any real trouble, but it was more from good fortune than worthy intentions that they’d stayed on the right side of the law.

  Leigh felt uneasy as the clanging of warning bells sounded in her head - Ali was looking for trouble. Like one of the big cats that stalk the forests at night, she was on the prowl. Ali had always had a mercurial nature and could switch from a joyful, relatively harmless mischief maker to an angry rebel in less than a heartbeat.

  Yielding at last to the powerful, unspoken command, Leigh glanced up and met Ali’s hot, relentless gaze. Sitting with her back straight and her arms folded across her chest, there was something deeply unnerving about Ali’s presence in such innocuous surroundings; she was more dangerous than ever.

  A patient exited Dr. Rankin’s consulting room. Leigh checked the appointments book in front of her. But before she had time to call the next patient, Ali had set off down the hall towards Terence’s room.

  Chapter Seven

  Dressed in a hideous, unflattering uniform, Claire Rankin looked up from the supermarket checkout. “Nina!”

  “Good to see you, Claire.” Nina felt better already as the warm fluttering in her stomach worked their way downward to her vagina. She’d been in a state of sexual agitation since that business with Owen at breakfast, though her feelings for him had been lukewarm for so long.

  In a nervous gesture, Claire patted her immaculately styled, short, chestnut hair with her left hand. With a round face, she was pretty enough to get herself noticed; male customers always made a beeline for her checkout. While she’d be the first to admit she could do with losing a few pounds, as a mother of two grown-up children she was in pretty good shape. In an unconscious movement, she straightened her back and thrust out her pendulous breasts. The effect was pleasant enough, but not quite as she’d have liked.

  “I haven’t seen you for weeks, Nina. What are you doing here?” Her hand trembled ever so slightly as she took Nina’s few items from the wire basket and passed them over the bar code scanner. “I thought we agreed you’d shop somewhere else? I can’t talk here.”

  “I have to see you. What time do you get off work?”

  “I’ve only been here an hour! Can’t it wait?”

  “Meet me in the Water Gardens in half an hour.”

  “How can I?” Claire hissed as she indicated the long queue that was already forming behind Nina.

  “Be there.” Nina indicated the long, thin implement wreathed in a silk scarf that stuck out from the top of her tote bag.

  ***

  Terence smiled as the narrow waisted, leather-clad woman with the slicked back hair entered his consulting room. “It’s good of you to come at such short notice.” He was still smiling as she locked the door behind her.

  He knew who she was, of course, having watched her grow up. And the memories were still ripe of the persistent bullying one of his sons had suffered at school. Never in his wildest dreams had Terence imagined that he’d one day make use of the services she now offered
. Nor had he ever dreamed that such a small-boned, somewhat scrawny teenager would metamorphose into such a strikingly sensual young woman. Her heavily made-up eyes, like black coals in a red-hot fire, could burn a man to his very soul, and the scarlet-glossed lips were ripe for kissing.

  He was still smiling. “For this first consultation.”

  “Shut up, you no good piece of chicken shit!” Despite her derogatory tone, Ali felt the stirrings of lust bubbling inside. “This is the first and last time you’ll summon me. From now on, I give the orders. Got it?”

  Terence’s smile faded. “Well, y...yes, I suppose so, but...”

  “But nothing. Stand up.” She busied herself lighting a cigar.

  “I’m sorry, but you can’t smoke in here.”

  She lifted it to her lips and took a drag before blowing the smoke into his face. As a symbol of her authority, it would show him that she had a total disregard for the rules of convention.

  “I don’t like to repeat myself, Doctor.”

  Terence stood, all traces of good humour vanishing from his face to be replaced by quivering uncertainty. He fiddled with his glasses.

  “Give me your belt - now!”

  The hand she held out to him was small with long, slightly curved fingernails, painted black. He placed the belt across her palm and she coiled it tightly before slipping it into her pocket.

  “Drop your trousers.” Holding the cigar between her teeth, she stood with her hands on her hips as his trousers fell to the floor. “Now your pants.”

  Again, he obeyed her command without question. When he stood with trousers and pants around his ankles, again she held out her hand. He’d never know how much it excited her to reduce a man of his standing in the community to a pathetically gibbering idiot who would obey her every command. God, he looked so stupid! Clumsily hopping on first one leg, then the other, he extracted his feet and passed the garments to her, which she threw aside to land in a heap on the floor.