At last Ali relented and rang down to the desk. If she could have seen it she’d have been pleased with the wide-eyed nod of the guard’s head and the broad, mocking grin with which he informed John he could finally go up to her apartment.
On opening the door, she knew instantly that he was shaken by her formidable presence; her very being oozed a dark sexuality that set his cock twitching. She guessed he didn’t feel half as confident as his brave words suggested.
“I don’t know who the hell you are, lady,” he began in a woefully unsuccessful bid to gain the upper hand, “but you’d better make this worth my while. I don’t like being messed about. We both know what you want, so lead the way to the bedroom.”
Wordlessly, she ushered him into the sitting room with a look that made him feel rather foolish. He looked her over from her dark, heavily made-up eyes down to her high-heeled shoes that brought her height up to his. He took in the long black gloves, and then feasted his eyes greedily on the swell of her left breast. Balanced precariously, it was almost completely visible as the dress sliced across it.
Momentarily at a loss, he gave her a quick smile that she didn’t return. In a flash of bravado he reached out to touch her, but seemed to decide against it and let his hand drop to his side. And she could almost hear the cogs turning as he racked his brains for something clever to say, to try a different tack. He’d probably draw on his years of experience as a pub landlord.
True to form, his mouth broke into the leering smile he saved for his young, female customers.
“You’re a real traffic-stopper, Darlin’, that’s for sure.”
Unimpressed by what was obviously his favoured chat-up line, Ali instructed crisply, “take your clothes off.” His lust was so intense she could smell it.
“Okaaaaay,” he dragged the word out in the mistaken belief it sounded sexy, “down to business. I like that in a woman.”
Chapter Ten
The door was ajar. Sitting in the kitchen where Ali had instructed her to “stay put and keep quiet,” Leigh thought over the bizarre events of the evening. Clearly, far from being unannounced, she’d been expected.
Insisting that Leigh remain naked while they ate, Ali had made no reference to what had gone before, while Jurgen served them with a delicious meal of beef braised in brandy as if it was just a normal day at the office.
Even so, Leigh wished she’d told Ali about Owen, but after this evening she wasn’t sure she could trust her. She’d been hurt emotionally as well as physically by Ali’s crop. But what worried her most was that it had induced such an intense reaction.
Jurgen hadn’t joined them at the table but was on hand to keep their glasses topped up. Leigh was no expert on wine but a cursory glance at the label confirmed that a bottle of this stuff would cost her more than a week’s wages. Still, Ali had always had expensive tastes.
The dessert had been a heavenly concoction of strawberries, chocolate, cream and some kind of liqueur.
Feeling light-headed, Leigh peered through the gap into the lounge, confident that she could watch the proceedings without being seen. And watch she did - with a tissue stuffed in her mouth to stifle her giggles.
Ali’s eyes swept over John’s naked, pasty, inadequately maintained body. Obviously the only exercise he’d done of late was walk the hundred or so yards from the pub to Ali’s apartment block. Sadly, gravity had worked its magic; freed from restraining clothing, John’s oversized belly sagged towards the floor.
“When did you last see your tackle?” Ali arched a mocking eyebrow.
“Now listen here! I didn’t come here to be insulted!”
“Really, John,” the humiliation in his eyes brought the glitter of sadistic delight to Ali’s, “you’re far too sensitive!”
She reached for his insignificant penis with her gloved hand. Once again, her zest for power triggered fiery sparks of arousal. Few men realized just how vulnerable they were when naked. And these first few moments, when she could make or break a man, always turned her on.
However, she was pleasantly surprised when, after only a moment of gentle coaxing, his phallus had mushroomed to quite an acceptable size.
Releasing her hold, she commanded acidly, “sit!”
“What’s this?” he gave a nervous laugh, “some sort of playground game? You tell me to skip, and I skip. You tell me to put my hands on my head, and...”
Ali’s voice exploded like a firecracker. “Sit! You’ll do as you’re told or get the bloody hell out of my face!”
Huffily, John sat on the floor in the middle of the room, his legs stretched out before him.
“Open your legs.”
He seemed to grasp now that in this weird, highly charged atmosphere he was completely out of his depth and obeyed without further question. Yet his cock throbbed visibly in anticipation as he looked longingly up at her.
Ali stood between his outstretched legs. She was aggressive, heartless and seductive, and he knew he’d never met anyone like her before. And judging by the look in his eyes, the poor creature had thought of little else but fucking her since he’d first set eyes on her days ago when she’d degraded him in his own pub.
“You mean less to me than a fly on a pile of dog shit,” she told him as she brushed imaginary flecks of dust off her outstretched, black-gloved arm. It was about now, Ali thought, that heat would flood into his balls and, when she was sure his attention was centred on her ineffectual gesture, she delivered a swift, vicious kick to his crotch.
He yowled like a wounded pig as agony had him doubling over his middle-age spread, clutching his balls protectively.
At once, heat rampaged through Ali’s veins. She was alive, and her vagina clenched in acknowledgement. There was something about dishing out pain that made her heart sing. Instinctively, she flicked her eyes towards the kitchen door, where the delectable Leigh watched silently.
“Cruel bitch!” he yelled.
“Exactly!” Ali’s mouth quirked. “Now we understand each other. Did you bring the items I requested?”
“In my pocket,” he said, sullenly.
Momentarily turning her back, Ali extracted the dog collar and lead from his jacket pocket. She took up her former position and admired the tan leather briefly.
“Good quality.”
She grabbed his hair. He made no objection as she pulled his head forward to buckle the collar around his neck.
“Who’s a good doggie, then?” she crooned, patting his head. She extracted her breasts from the dress with her gloved hands. “Has Mumsy-wumsy got something nice for the little doggie?”
His head snapped upright, his eyes ogling the ripe, up-tilting breasts that she offered him. The sight of the malleable, soft flesh against the black gloves was too much for him and he leapt to his feet. Instantly, she dealt a brutal slap to his cheek.
“Bad doggie!” She kicked his feet from under him, making him topple awkwardly. “On your knees! If you want a treat you’ll have to beg.”
Eager to fill his mouth with her glorious orbs, John found himself obeying. With his knees bent beneath him, he pulled his arms into his chest and let his hands flop forward in the classic begging position of a pooch. For added effect, he widened his eyes and stuck out his slavering tongue, panting loudly.
Ali leaned forward. She pulled his head forward once more and stuffed her right breast into his slobbering mouth. Immediately, he began sucking noisily, his saliva coating her flesh and forming little strings. His fingers reached out and closed around the hardened nipple of her other breast. Twirling with one hand and with his mouth full of glorious tit, he must have thought he was in heaven.
“Enough!” she said stepping backward so abruptly that he fell forward.
He threw out his arms and found himself on all fours. As he looked up at her, she pushed her slashed neckline d
own to her waist and flaunted her breasts with such an obvious delight that his saliva trickled down his chin. She turned the collar so that the buckle and small ring were at the front, then produced a shiny disc and held it out for his inspection.
“I’ve had it engraved. Read it to me.”
“Bloody hell!” he said in an undertone that was a strange blend of pride and humiliation. He read the words as confidently as he was able. “Mongrel. Return to Mistress Blackheart.”
“Good dog.” Again, she patted his head. “You’re to wear the collar every time you visit me,” she told him, fixing the disc to the ring at the front,” and you will visit me again - often. You’ll come to need your fix of degradation as much as you long to fuck me.” She clipped the lead to the ring. “I might just pop into the pub from time to time. When that happens, you’re to produce the collar and fasten it round your neck. Or better still, you can keep it on - yes, keep it on and wear it all the time. That way, I won’t have to punish you if I catch you without it.”
“How can I? People will see.”
“Then you’d better start wearing turtle necks.”
With a terse command she summoned Jurgen, who immediately appeared from a side door with a dog bowl and a bottle of Dom Perignon.
John’s penis shrivelled with humiliation at the sight of the big man, whose cock was far larger than his even when flaccid.
Jurgen put the bowl on the floor in the corner of the room, then walked across to the drinks cabinet and found two champagne flutes. He filled these with the sparkling liquid, then handed one to Ali before crossing to the kitchen.
In a rare moment of intimacy, he smiled down at Leigh as he handed her the filled flute. She smiled back as she accepted it.
Jurgen returned to the sitting room, and Leigh’s curiosity was aroused when he took a small, black, unmarked bottle from the cabinet and proceeded to fill the dog bowl with thick, brown liquid. Afterwards, he disappeared through the door from which he’d come.
Ali gave a jerk on the lead and made John follow her on all fours. With the top of her dress pushed down to her waist, her breasts swung temptingly as she led him round in a circle. She gave another jerk on the lead and led him round the furniture a couple of times, had him pretend to cock his leg against the plant, then made him crawl across to the bowl where she commanded him to drink.
He lapped at it cautiously, then spat it back into the bowl.
“I can’t drink that! It’s disgusting.”
Ali jerked his head upward, at the same time delivering another brutal kick, this time to his ribs.
“Shut your ugly mouth!” Knowing that no matter how much he complained, he was in a state of high sexual agitation, she threatened him. “If you want to stay, you’ll drink the bowl dry. Otherwise, you get the fuck out of here. What’s it to be?”
Reluctantly, he lowered his head, and began to lap at the foul-tasting liquid once more.
Flicking her eyes across to the kitchen doorway, Ali read the silent question on Leigh’s lips. For a fleeting moment, Ali’s mischievous smile was like that of a much younger, less treacherous Ali as she mouthed the answer.
“Gin, diet cola and brown sauce.”
***
After allowing John a short rest, Ali had him kneel, then made him sit back on his legs.
“Rest that lazy arse on your ankles.” She kicked out at his legs, encouraging him to hurry. “I’m the hardest bitch you’ll ever kneel before!” When she was satisfied with the result, she walked around behind him, instructing him not to turn round.
“Stay there. Understand?”
John nodded, and received another kick, this time to his buttocks. “Now do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, Mistress Blackheart,” she corrected. “We’ll try it again, and this time you’d better get it right.”
Spirals of excitement coiled upward from her pulsating clitoris to her nipples as his saggy flesh trembled. Now he was really afraid of her; could Magistrate Maitland ever have felt as alive as she felt now? What she’d give to have his mansion, complete with its dark, airless dungeon, crammed full with its torture equipment, at her disposal. Sadly, it had suffered after his death and the estate had virtually fallen into ruins. Salvation for the old place had come in the guise of property developers. They’d moved in some years ago and turned the place into a country club.
Ali sighed. She’d just have to make do with the apartment. But when the funds were in place, she’d expand to the floor below. Of course, to raise the kind of cash required, she’d have to take on the training of more slaves like Cindy...
She came out of her reverie. “Do you understand, you spineless toad?” she snapped
“Yes, Mistress Blackheart” His voice was barely audible.
“Louder!”
“Yes, Mistress Blackheart!”
Black-browed and belligerent, she replied bitingly, “at last! For a moment I thought I had a complete idiot on my hands. Listen, you worthless pile of shit, I demand obedience from my slaves, and have some rather unpleasant ways of dealing with indiscipline that I can’t wait to try out!”
With that, she left the room and tense moments passed. When she returned, the watching Leigh once again had to stuff a tissue in her mouth to stifle her reactions, as disbelief and curiosity jostled for dominance. For not only was Ali carrying a couple of metal poles but the elegant evening dress had gone, along with the gloves and shoes.
Her intimidating black leather waspie extended from just below her breasts to her hips and fastened with wide straps across the front. Ali loved the restrictions and fastened the silver buckles as tightly as she was able, drawing in further her already narrow waist. Round her long, graceful neck, she too wore a collar; wide enough to keep her head upright, it was decorated with silver studs, as were the long, leather gauntlets that replaced her gloves. Her impossibly high platform boots with spiky heels were also decorated with studs and buckled from her ankle right up to her shapely thighs.
Her stiff, dark nipples betrayed the depth of her arousal as they stood out like bullets from her naked breasts. She wasn’t wearing panties and her labia, already glistening with her juices, hung red and inviting beneath the black rug of wiry curls that adorned her mons.
For some reason, Leigh’s own thighs ached to spread themselves wide. The tousle-haired redhead allowed herself an indulgent smile and relished the strange swell of pride she felt at being privileged to observe the hot sensuality of Ali’s body. Then, ashamed to even think such a thing, she covered her face with her hands. Her splintering breath was hot against her palms and she swallowed hard, turning her attention back to the unfolding scene in the sitting room.
Once again standing behind the obediently immobile John, Ali fixed leather restraints to each of his ankles. Then she fixed a metal spreader bar, about the girth of a broom handle, between his ankles using the hooks at each end to attach to the restraints. Next, she took a similar bar and, turning his collar so that the ring was at the back, she unclipped the lead which she threw aside. In its place, she clipped one end of the bar, similarly fixing the other end to a hook set in the centre of the spreader bar.
Lastly, she drew his hands behind his back and handcuffed his wrists together over the cruel bar that kept his back straight.
She eyed him with sadistic delight as she circled him a couple of times, finally stopping in front of him. Her skin tingled as a torrid warmth spread through her at the thought of Leigh similarly restrained; she’d have to slake her appetite soon, but on the other hand she hated to deny herself the joy of anticipation.
John’s eyes brimmed with anxiety, and something else, too, something which looked very much like lust. And who could blame him when the object of his desire stood before him, like a demon in black leather? His cock reared up in front of him, once again hard
and ready for action.
“Do you want to fuck me, John?”
“Yes, you crazy bitch!”
There was a loud Smack! Smack! as her hand made contact first with one cheek then the other.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, Mistress Blackheart.”
She flicked her eyes towards the kitchen. “Leigh. Get in here, now!”
Ali savoured the look of horror-stricken recognition on John’s face as the lovely young woman stepped naked into the room and approached him. On Ali’s instruction, Leigh went through to Ali’s bedroom and returned with the item she found lying on the bed, secretly wishing it were Owen and not John who was suffering at Ali’s hands.
She handed the object to Ali. As she obeyed Ali’s command and settled herself on the sofa, Ali held the object up for Leigh to see. It was black, and at first glance Leigh thought it was a sink plunger, with a slightly smaller than usual rubber section to fit over the plug hole. But to her surprise a closer inspection revealed it to be a dildo that resembled a fully erect penis. Perfect in every detail, Leigh could see now that the plunger part was in fact a hollow base that flared out like replica balls, to which straps were fitted.
Ali placed the base over John’s nose, which fitted snugly into the hollow and left his mouth free to breathe. His startled eyes looked out over it as she buckled it around his head. With hands on hips she stood back to admire her work.
“Bloody hell, John, what a huge weapon!” Her dark eyes glittered as she laughed. “So,” towering above him in her platforms, she stood with her legs either side of his head and her boots pressing firmly against his legs, “fuck me.”
Lowering herself and using her hands, she guided the dildo into position and nudged it against her sensitive, glistening pussy lips. Grinning wickedly, she parted them with her fingers and then drove her quim downward, impaling herself onto the rigid phallus. Her heart thudded as a surge of power erupted into a maniacal laugh. He was helpless to do anything other than watch as she ground down madly, her breasts swinging and her mons hitting his chin.
Mistress Blackheart Page 10
