Mistress Blackheart

by Francine Whittaker

  With her shoulders touching the hard, white floorboards and her breasts flattened, her hands were cuffed behind her back.

  Wide metal bands were fixed around her ankles chaining them to the wall bars. Her legs were raised several feet, thus lifting her abdomen clear of the floor, and dragged open so wide it felt as if she were being rent in two, causing her sex lips to gape.

  However, Ali’s sadistic nature still wasn’t satisfied nor her lust sated, so she set about fixing metal cuffs around Leigh’s elbows, and a chain to the cuffs at her wrists. Then, pulling Leigh’s arms upward and back, she connected the end of the chain to the wall bars, at a point half way between Leigh’s ankles.

  “I told you Jurgen had already been dealt with,” Ali told her as Leigh stared horror-stricken at the spectacle before her, wishing Ali had left her blindfold on.

  Fear for her own skin had melted away, to be replaced by concern for Jurgen, whose torso bore deep lacerations from Ali’s whip. Blindfolded and gagged, his head poked through an opening of a rigid, square board, made of some kind of black material. It was actually two pieces which slotted together, shaped to fit snugly around the neck. About an inch or so thick and two feet square, it rested on his shoulders.

  His hands were drawn up on either side and kept in place by two special straps attached to the sides and fastened around his wrists. Positioned in the corner, he was standing on a low revolving platform, the size and shape of a dustbin lid. To stop him escaping, straps were fastened around his ankles and secured by chains to bolts in the turntable.

  Lastly and most cruelly, his magnificent shaft had been pulled backwards through his legs. To hold it in position, Ali had fastened a tight leather strap around its girth, about half way along the shaft. This had a chain attached, which had been pulled tautly up his back, between his shoulder blades and fixed to the back of the wood on his shoulders by means of a hook.

  Ali removed his blindfold so that, as he slowly revolved, he’d be tortured by the enchanting sight of Leigh.

  Ali came and leaned against the wall bars, looking down the slope of Leigh’s shackled body. “For fucking without permission you’ll forfeit lunch, perhaps even dinner. If I have to starve you into submission, then so be it. And the same goes for him,” she jerked her head towards the helplessly spinning Jurgen, “though it’ll be much worse for him because he’s got to cook it.”

  Crouching, Ali crept beneath Leigh’s leg. She positioned herself crossed-legged between Leigh’s open thighs and opened her own to expose the slit in her catsuit.

  “What do you think, Jurgen? Was she worth it?”

  Ali skimmed her fingers lightly over her own elongated pussy lips, before dipping one finger between them as she lowered her head.

  Leigh couldn’t contain the low-toned “Ooooo” as Ali’s hot mouth descended over her wet, open quim. And, with her restricted movement, there was little she could do but give herself up to Ali’s tongue as it snaked its way inside her tight channel.

  Drowning in erotic euphoria, she didn’t even try to hold at bay the delightful shudders and cramps that Ali’s wicked tongue induced.

  “You wanted to see your room,” it was an hour or so later when Ali released her and shoved her through another door, “so here it is.”

  With her arms still cuffed at wrists and elbows, Leigh stood in the dim, windowless room and looked around bleakly. Just as Jurgen had claimed, there wasn’t a stick of furniture, just a mattress with a pillow on the floor, covered with a plain white sheet. Nor had he lied about the metal rings - there was one at each corner, set into the floor. But there wasn’t any sign of the belongings that she’d asked Ali to pick up for her, nor could she see any of her clothes.

  As if reading her mind, Ali said, “I’ll provide all your clothes and make-up. For the time being, you can carry on working, but I’ll take you there and bring you back.”

  “It’s ok,” Leigh said sullenly, “you don’t have to do that.”

  “Oh, but I do! You don’t think I’m going to trust you out on your own?” Ali unfastened both sets of cuffs and, taking first one then the other of Leigh’s arms in her hands, she began to rub the life back into them. “Lie down.”

  Life with Ali had always been chancy, a bit like walking barefoot on hot coals; if you believed you could survive you probably would. And Leigh had every intention of surviving this latest phase in their relationship, and so did as she was told without argument.

  It was only when Ali stooped down and chained each ankle to the corresponding corner of the mattress that she began to get an inkling of the true nature of her predicament. And to bring the message home, Ali did the same with her wrists. Now, chained down in an X, Leigh had no choice but to listen as Ali ran through the rules that were to govern her life.

  Ali stood upright and, with a devilish grin said caustically, “look at you- spread apart like the slut you are! If anyone needed to be kept in line, it’s you. And I’m just the person to do it.” She took a sadistic delight in observing how desolation and fear contorted Leigh’s face, relishing the way disbelief turned to horror-stricken acceptance.

  “The sooner you accept that you’re totally subservient to me, the better it’ll be for you. The demands of my body are the only ones that count around here. My word is law; you need my permission to scratch your bum, let alone fuck. Your wants, thoughts and opinions - they’re bloody non-existent.

  “You’ve got no right to talk, not even to Jurgen and especially not to my guests or clients. I don’t want to hear one single word from you unless I’ve given you the green light. Got it? Even then, as far as possible you’re to answer all questions with a simple yes or no. And don’t think I’ll make allowances for friendship. Far from it!

  “I’m the mistress of this house of correction - and I’ve just pulled the plug on your right to call me Ali... my name’s Mistress Blackheart! Now do you understand? I own you, Leigh, and that gives you no rights at all.”

  Leigh’s mouth gaped. Bound and naked apart from her stockings, it was all too much for the captive and the tears that had been dammed up behind her eyes for so long burst free to gush in torrents down her face, leaving black streaks of mascara in their wake.

  Ali watched her closely. She looked so fragile, and with her hair matted to her face, the tell-tale silvery trails of Jurgen’s dried semen down her thigh and her face crumpled and dirty, she was all the more lovely. However, she’d have to be cleaned up if the evening was to go as planned. Ali decided it would be best to leave her until an hour or so before the evening meal.

  Once again, Ali slid her fingers into her own, well-moistened sex. “The flogging you received earlier was nothing to do with punishment, it was entirely for my pleasure! You’ve no idea how horny you make me.”

  As her fingers worked with growing fervour, Leigh’s pussy began to make squelching noises.

  Deciding to go and make use of Jurgen’s cock, Ali made to leave, then turned for one final twist of the screw.

  “I’m expecting visitors later; one is a rather powerful guy from France. We’ve a bit of business to attend to but after that... well, a friend’s dropping by for a bit of advice. That’s when I’ll be calling on your services to help the evening along.”

  With that, she closed the door, leaving Leigh to howl her eyes out.

  By then it was late afternoon, but as Ali was very well aware, in the claustrophobic blackness, Leigh would have no way of judging the passing of time.

  Left alone to dwell on her misery and the horrendous echoes of pain, Leigh tried to make sense of the jumbled thoughts that assailed her.

  Betrayed by the one person she’d always trusted, the knowledge that she should have trusted her own instincts instead gnawed relentlessly at her mind. She should have kept well clear of Ali and her schemes, which had never brought her anything but trouble.

 
The irony was that she worshipped the woman. Having had the floor kicked out from beneath her and with her body lacerated by pain, bleak clarity pierced her consciousness; all she’d ever wanted was for Ali to worship her in return. But she’d never imagined that gaining that adoration would hurt so much, or cause such tremors of arousal to race through her veins at the mere thought of Ali’s whip. Only now did she have an inkling of her true sexuality - she was excited by the lash, the same as when Owen had struck her.

  That her need for revenge and desire to be loved should finally condemn her to slavery was unbelievable, yet wildly exciting. It was probably everything she deserved. This was a new beginning, and it was with an uneasy happiness that she accepted that her true place in life was, had only ever been, to serve Ali.

  As her mind raced with the possibilities, her nipples hardened and began to throb, and there was a wonderful, unbearable tingling between her legs. Gripped by the wonderful, terrible realization of her condition, Leigh closed her eyes and fell into an uneasy sleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Having been bathed and perfumed by Ali, Leigh was completely naked. She’d been placed on a hastily erected wooden platform, situated directly facing the table in the minimalist, pale blue dining room.

  Her hands were fastened in front of her, tied with heavy white nylon rope, which had also been tightly wound several times round her waist and then tied off. The same procedure had been used above and below her breasts so that the rope bit cruelly into the soft, yielding flesh, imprisoning her heavy orbs.

  Sight was denied her by a loose fitting, black silk hood which fastened at the neck with Velcro. Covering her head so that any onlooker would be unaware of the ball-gag that stifled her cries, it had the added bonus of hiding her glorious mane of tangled red hair which had been scrunched up inside. And almost hidden by the hood, a wide leather collar now adorned her neck. Black, with a silver ring at the front, it had been purchased especially and, since it was fitted with a special locking device, it would be a permanent reminder to Leigh of her new status.

  “It can’t be removed,” Ali told her as she tugged at two blue silk tassels, like the bell pulls for summoning servants in grand houses, “so when you go to work you’ll have to wear a scarf tied round your neck, as if you’re covering up love bites.”

  There was a clinking sound as two chains descended from the ceiling. Ali took the ends and attached them to lengths of rope she’d tied tightly round one of Leigh’s legs at ankle and knee which chafed her skin terribly. Then she raised the chains again so that Leigh’s taut, shapely thigh was held out at a 90 degree angle. Now, suspended with the lower part of her leg and toe pointing downward, she balanced precariously on the other leg. Staying upright was made more difficult by there being no supports or further chains to hold her secure.

  To emphasise the point Ali gave her a shove. Leigh lost contact with the floor immediately and swung helplessly by the knee. Laughing, Ali watched her friend scrabble to find the wooden platform and regain her balance. Pausing to finger Leigh’s pussy folds, Ali traced the line of her slippery slit, glistening and clearly visible due the way she’d been suspended. With her red pubes curling enticingly over her mons, she made a very attractive picture indeed, a picture made all the more delightful by the hood that concealed her identity.

  Using another length of rope, Ali tied it to the ring of Leigh’s collar and threaded it down between her breasts. Lastly, she looped it around the bonds at her elbows and again at her wrists, so that her hands were in effect joined to her neck. With her pale flesh dissected by the rope for no purpose other than aesthetics, she was left alone, uncomfortable and frightened in her dark world.

  ***

  Having been taught by Chantel the importance of wearing the right outfit for the right occasion, Ali had changed out of her catsuit and was dressed in an impossibly tight black leather Basque with a back fastening and suspenders attached that held up black stockings. Her high spiked leather boots came up over her knee. Instead of gloves she wore her leather gauntlets. Circling her waist was a silver chain, from which dangled a whippy cane.

  The two women were settled side by side on the sofa. Ali crossed her legs elegantly and focussed her eyes on the blonde’s finely plucked eyebrows and long nose. The lips of her wide mouth were full and sensual, and it was obvious from the tight fit of her clothes that a highly erotic body was concealed beneath them.

  “Well, Nina, I guess it’s time to start your education,” Ali gave her a tigerish grin, “so I’ve arranged a couple of treats for you. I hope you’ll find the evening entertaining. If after a few weeks of tuition you’re still set on becoming a top dominatrix, I can put you in touch with a very good friend of mine who has a wonderful chateau.”

  “Thanks Ali, for everything.” The admiration in Nina’s voice for her mentor was obvious, though she wasn’t half as confident as her smile implied. She raised her leg and drew Ali’s attention to her shoes.

  Ali gave the red stilettos the thumbs up, admiring the curve of Nina’s calf as she continued her upward appraisal, taking in the red, pencil skirt that came to her knee and was teamed with a black blouse and red boxy jacket. With a hand gesture, Ali encouraged Nina to remove the jacket and take off the blouse.

  “You’ll be more comfortable. Besides, I want to see what kind of underwear you go in for.”

  Confident in her choice, Nina’s mouth broke into a slow smile. She shrugged off the jacket and began to unfasten the buttons of her blouse and slipped it off her shoulders.

  In a shrill voice, Ali ordered Jurgen to fetch the champagne.

  She studied the statuesque woman beside her. Instantly drawn to the large, melon breasts which were barely contained by the red, lacy bra, a wave of sensuality gripped her as erotic memories of the way Leigh’s breasts were so cruelly restrained replayed themselves in her mind. A paroxysm of white-hot arousal at the recollection of that delightful pale body decorated with livid stripes had her struggling to retain her composure. By the end of the evening, Leigh would be in no doubt as to her place in the scheme of things.

  Ali knew that her black-hearted authority must never be thrown into doubt; no way must she ever let anyone discover her Achilles heel. If anyone should ever get wind of the craving that drove her on, and realize that that very craving was her one true weakness, her dominance would be questioned and her small but burgeoning empire would crumble to nothing. For the time being she must keep her fervour in check.

  With another wave of her hand she gestured for Nina to take off her skirt. Nina rose to her feet and began unzipping the side zip, just as Jurgen entered with a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes.

  Nina flicked her eyes towards her mentor for confirmation of her status.

  Ali announced frostily, “this is Mistress Nina. You’ll obey her as you’d obey me.”

  “Yes, Mistress Blackheart.”

  Testing out her newly acquired authority Nina stepped forward and, with the terse command, “kneel!” pointed to the floor.

  Instantly, Jurgen fell to his knees before her, his eyes locked on to her shoes.

  “Stay there,” Nina let the skirt glide down her legs to her ankles, “until either I or your mistress give the order to rise.”

  The red, lacy suspender belt that circled her narrow waist was a perfect match to the bra and minuscule panties that stretched over her mons. Her hips flared sensuously and gave way to long, shapely legs that were given a silky sheen by her stockings. With a natural elegance that wouldn’t have been out of place on the catwalk she stepped from the skirt at her feet, hooked it up on the toe of her shoe and flicked it across the room.

  Eagerly she displayed herself in front of the subjugated man at her feet, swaying her hips provocatively. Secretly she was astounded at how good it felt to have a man at her feet. And in that moment, Nina knew she was on the pathway to a new, more
fulfilled life.

  Ali looked on with interest.

  “Very nice Nina,” then prodded Jurgen’s naked backside with her toe. “We’ll eat at nine.” Ignoring him now she turned her attention back to Nina. “Before dinner I’ll take you through to the playroom, where you can have a taster of one of the treats I mentioned.”

  Rising to her feet she stepped over Jurgen and stood beside her new friend. Smiling, they raised their glasses, brought them together with a clink! and chanted in unison, “here’s to a great evening.”

  ***

  “This is Pierre.”

  Nina was aghast. It was all she could do to stop herself from throwing her hand over her mouth in shock. She’d never seen such a thing! Transfixed, she followed Ali into the white room.

  Ali stood beside the young, well-proportioned man with wavy dark hair. Gagged, his naked body was slung face down between the black, horizontal beam and the wall bars at about waist height. On his wrists he wore metal cuffs, both of which had chains attached, the other ends of which were secured to the beam several feet apart. Similar cuffs and chains had been attached to his ankles and secured, several feet apart, to the wall bars.

  As he hung stretched out in an X between the beam and wall bars, to maintain his erection there was a metal ring fixed over his scrotum and a similar ring at the base of his penis. From this second ring hung a chain of about six inches long, at the end of which was a weight.

  Ali gave his backside a resounding Smack! with the palm of her hand, “the leather queen demands your arse!” making the flesh on his buttocks wobble, before strutting over to a cabinet on the wall. She returned some minutes later with a candle and a box of matches. She screwed the candle into his anus, lit it, then stepped back to admire the view.