‘I am so happy for you,’ she murmured.
Jaya smiled, delight dancing in her large, liquid eyes.
‘Hazim told me that he found me, us, through a video. Show Miranda, Hazim, while I shower.’
Miranda frowned, not understanding. Hazim nodded and sprang out from the bed. Miranda gazed up appreciatively at his lithe, lightly muscled body. He stooped, rustled about in a cabinet and then strode over to a video at the foot of the king-size bed.
Click. Whirr. The machine hummed, the large silvery grey screen flickered. Instantly, Miranda was transported back to the Academy. There, on the screen, Clarissa was sobbing silently as her beautiful bottom jerked responsively to the repeated strokes of a cane. Miranda swore softly. Hazim picked up the remote control. Fast forward. Hold. Play.
Jaya appeared on the screen. The scene must have been videoed some time before Miranda’s detention at the Academy. Jaya’s hair was thick and luxuriant and she wore a blueband. On screen she appeared before Hazim and Miranda in a giant close-up of her pain and shame. An unseen hand was lashing a broad strap against her buttocks. Silently, she gasped her cries of distress. Click. The screen darkened to a silver dot.
‘See? I had been trying to trace her for over three months. Her parents told me nothing, other than some damn lies about her choosing to go to Geneva. Then I came across this, through which I tracked down a very sinister little chap called Porteous…’
‘Porteous?’ cried Miranda. ‘You mean… ?’
Hazim told Miranda all he knew. She completed the picture. Between them, they had the solicitor framed.
‘Are you going to Sandstones? They might be worried. Miranda lives in Wiltshire,’ Jaya explained to Hazim, after her shower.
‘Perhaps,’ Miranda replied. ‘I’ll ring soon. But first, I think Hazim should show you the video. Then I am sure that you will wish to come with me to the Fulham Road.’
‘I’m coming too. I’ve one or two things to discuss with that bastard,’ Hazim remarked, yawning deeply after his night’s exertions.
‘No, Hazim. Thanks, we may need your help but Jaya and I have to do this ourselves. We will need a few things.’
‘Things? What sort of things?’ Jaya asked, puzzled.
‘A dozen cream cakes and a couple of stout leather belts,’ Miranda replied, her eyes narrowing. ‘Hazim, play the tape for Jaya.’
Jaya watched as, on the screen, Clarissa was being whipped. Hazim watched Jaya’s face intently as she focused on the punishment.
Chapter Nine
The dialling tone sang in Miranda’s ears. She kicked off her shoes and unzipped her tight skirt.
‘Sandstones,’ the impeccable voice said.
‘Hello, Brompton. May I speak with Aunt Emma?’
Miranda inserted her thumb into the tight elastic of her white lace panties. She eased them down over the fulsome bulge of her heavy buttocks.
‘Certainly, Lady Miranda.’
Silence followed. Miranda shivered as her hips and thighs goose-pimpled in the chill morning air.
‘Are you there, is that you?’ Aunt Emma boomed. ‘Little minx, what the devil is going on?’
‘And a very good morning to you, Auntie,’ Miranda replied, grinning broadly. ‘I’m calling from the London flat.’
Miranda grunted down into the phone which was now tucked under her chin. Unclasping her brassie`re with difficulty, she sighed as it fluttered down to join the panties on the floor. Her breasts swung loose and lovely in their freedom.
‘Have you got a man there?’
‘No, Auntie.’
‘Then why are you groaning like a tart?’
‘Undressing for a shower.’
‘If that’s what you tell me I’m bound to believe you. I don’t, by the way. You have behaved incorrigibly in all other matters. The Academy phoned first thing this morning. Mrs Boydd-thingummy —’
‘Black,’ supplied Miranda.
‘Don’t quibble. They were very upset. What the hell is going on?’
‘I’m coming down to see you at teatime.’
‘Better had, my girl.’
Miranda stepped into her shower and luxuriated in the sparkling stream of hot water. She soaped her neck and outstretched arms, then her shining, plump breasts, massaging their pliant flesh with the tablet of soap. The creamy curds of lather gathered and amassed down in her glistening pubic triangle. She rinsed them down her inner thighs and watched them spin away beneath her small white toes. Towelling herself dry, she paused to admit Jaya. Hazim remained at the door.
‘Girl’s work, Hazim. But be at the Fulham Road office for one-thirty sharp.’
‘Very well,’ he shrugged, and went.
Miranda strode back into her bedroom. Jaya was sitting on the bed.
‘War paint and feathers,’ Miranda said, casting aside her long towel. Standing nude before a full-length mirror, she admired herself briefly. Turning, she glimpsed the faint red stripes, the legacy from Jane’s merciless caning. Her eyes clouded momentarily with anger.
‘Strip off,’ she ordered.
Jaya peeled off her sinuous silk sari, every gesture more revealing and erotic than the one before. In moments, she too stood in proud, splendid nakedness. She joined Miranda before the mirror. Miranda’s creamy skin contrasted deliciously with the warm amber, glistening honied tones of Jaya’s flesh. Miranda’s breasts were fuller, riper, heavier. Jaya’s belly rounder, her hips slightly broader. Both had superb legs.
Turning, they gazed over their shoulders at each other’s pertly rounded bottoms. Imperceptibly, they jostled closer, squeezing their cheeks together. Skin kissed soft skin. Miranda dropped her arm down and allowed her hand to smooth Jaya’s rounded buttocks gently, fondling and squeezing the tight, supple flesh. Jaya sighed deeply and stroked the cleft between Miranda’s joggling cheeks.
‘I will miss you so much,’ she whispered huskily.
In the long looking-glass, their eyes met. Miranda squeezed Jaya’s bottom with a fierce tenderness.
‘Our loving friendship will continue, don’t worry. We will meet from time to time. Feed the flames of our precious fire.’
‘But Hazim…’
‘You will be very happy with him. But that which he cannot give you as a man, I will give you as a woman. Do not be afraid.’
Jaya turned to embrace Miranda, her soft, dusky bosoms nestling into the creamy breasts of her beloved, her lover and sweet disciplinarian. Slowly, she kissed and tongued Miranda’s throat, then the valley between the rounded breasts below. Finally, and firmly, she attended to the swelling bosom.
Taking each cherry red nipple in between her lips, she sucked hard, then slipped her tiny white teeth over the stiffening peak and tongued it fiercely until Miranda rose up on her toes in sheer ecstasy. The warm, wet mouth worked down across the smooth, milky skin, the hot, thick lips dragging against the silky sheen of tight skin beneath them. At the hip, the lips worked sideways towards the outer curve.
Jaya turned Miranda’s naked body within her firm, slim dusky hands. Miranda responded, presenting her soft bottom to the worshipping mouth. Jaya eased back and sank on her heels, gazing steadily and longingly at the quivering cheeks. So soft, so round, so heavy. Inching her face closer, closer still, she licked the sweeping curve of the left buttock. First with a tentative, tremulous tongue tip then more boldly, using the full length of her strong, pink tongue.
The freshly washed skin of the buttocks tasted faintly of luxurious soap. It filled her mouth. It filled her mind. Down, down, down into the white hillock of soft flesh she pressed her face, squashing it in her attempt to lose herself and drown in the warm, satin smooth glory.
Miranda swayed slightly as she felt first the hot breath, then the wet lips, then Jaya’s full face caress and adore her bottom. For five long, silent minutes Jaya enjoyed the buttock, before turning tongue and lips to the other. Five long, languid minutes later, her hot tongue was probing and flickering along the length of the shadowed cleft between
the creamy mounds. Into the warm, dark, steeply sloping valley of flesh, her long tongue flicked. Soon her frenzied mouth was sucking and kissing, biting and gorging on the soft, quivering flesh. Spreading the tight cheeks apart between her firm thumbs, Jaya opened up the cleft to expose the single pink rosebud of the anal whorl. Her tongue tip flickered across it. Again. Miranda shrieked and dragged Jaya back up to her bosom in a close embrace.
‘Spank me,’ pleaded Jaya, drowning in her liquid longings, having paid fulsome homage to the one she adored. ‘Spank me, please.’
Miranda took Jaya’s nipples between her pincered fingers and thumbs and forced her backwards down onto the bed, belly down. Still imprisoning the tightening nipples, the blonde positioned the dusky Asian girl beneath her against the mattress, straddling the wide, warm hips with her own, dominating the soft bottom beneath her with her firm pelvic girdle. Jaya squealed as she felt the shock of the pubic coils rasp against her velvet buttocks.
‘You are beautiful,’ Miranda spoke softly, quietly. ‘Your bottom is superb. Such beauty is painful. It hurts the eye of the beholder, wounds the heart of the admirer. For this reason, such beauty must be punished.’
Jaya thrilled to the words, thrilled to the threat of pain and promise of dark pleasure they carried with them. She thrust her bottom up eagerly for the delicious punishment to come. Miranda merely drew her outstretched finger down the dusky spine of the bending girl and, turning her outstretched hand into a claw of sharp fingernails, dragged them down across each plump buttock. Jaya shivered and moaned, wriggling her bottom in eager, openly unashamed impatience. Miranda steadied the quivering buttocks with a firm hand.
‘You will be punished when, and only when, I deem it fitting. When you surrender to me, your surrender and submission must be complete, utter and absolute.’
‘Yes,’ whispered Jaya hoarsely. ‘Yes.’
‘Your bottom is mine,’ Miranda hissed, stroking it tenderly.
‘I give it to you, completely,’ Jaya whimpered.
‘I take it, absolutely, to pleasure and enjoy,’ Miranda replied.
‘Do it, please, do it now, I beg you. Spank me, spank me hard. Please, do with me what you will.’
Smack. The sepia-hued cheeks wobbled provocatively under the first of six firm spanks. Smack. Smack. Smack. Jaya hissed with pain and delight. Smack. Smack. Miranda’s slightly curved hand rose and fell rapidly, cracking down with fierce tenderness across the exposed, upturned buttocks. Already both hands and cheeks were warm.
‘Beat me harder, harder,’ implored Jaya, her voice thickening with frenzied lust, sweet anguish and the desire to be dominated.
The cruel spanking continued, the crack of firm hand across soft buttocks echoing around Miranda’s luxurious bedroom like pistol shots.
‘Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Jaya. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful bottom,’ whispered Miranda severely between the sharp slaps.
Jaya squeezed her thighs together and thrust her hot bottom up for more.
‘Spank me, oh my love, spank me. Hurt me, love me, own me,’ she cried.
Miranda gripped Jaya’s breasts and squeezed them tightly. Bending down she whispered into the small, perfectly formed ear that met her hot dry lips with its cool silky skin.
‘In my arms you are safe. Safe and loved. Remember that. Always and forever there will be a place in my arms, in my heart and in my bed for you. I will tame you, spank you and give you the love no man ever dreamed of giving or receiving. I burn with fierce joy to possess you. Like a jewel, I treasure you. Your bottom is soft. So soft. Your bottom is round. So round. Your bottom is mine, all mine.’ Spank. Spank. Spank.
Tears of joy spilled freely down Jaya’s face. To be so desired, possessed, owned and lovingly dominated was pure heaven. She felt her body melting into liquid surrender. Swollen breasts and taut belly, moistening thighs and burning buttocks — all became one molten offering dedicated to her love in whose arms she was rocked, soothed, savaged and enjoyed. Her mind trembled on the very brink of delirium as she fluttered on the edge of a swoon.
This firm blonde, so strong, so beautiful, so proud. This blonde wanted her. Loved her. Pleasured her. Owned and controlled her jerking nakedness. The experience was both shattering and uniquely, deeply fulfilling.
Jaya screamed as she sensed Miranda’s mouth hovering above her hot bottom. A trickle of warm saliva dribbled down into the shadow of her cleft. The kiss of warm, perfumed breath drew closer. Closer still. The wet, fleshy lips brushed her punished rump fleetingly. Again, the kiss was a slow, lingering caress. Then the tongue. Now the teeth. They sank into Jaya’s generous bottom softly, silently and slowly. The mouth opened and then, tantalisingly, closed. The teeth tortured the scalding flesh for several minutes. Golden waves of crimson delight. Jaya threshed, hot silver sluicing from beneath her tingling pubic curtain. Miranda sprang back, spun Jaya over and knelt down over her upturned face. Jaya’s mouth lay exactly four inches beneath the sweet, soft centre of Miranda’s splayed thighs. Jaya gazed up in total adoration.
‘You will kiss the sweet honey that flows from within me. Taste me. Drink from our love cup that will never run dry.’
The golden pubic hairs grazed Jaya’s nose as Miranda lowered herself, inch by inch, down onto Jaya’s mouth. The soft, wet flesh enfolded itself, the labial tissue opening to greet the lips and quivering tongue. Jaya sucked and mouthed the open sex. Miranda bucked and shuddered as her very soul trembled. The juices poured out from one mouth into the other.
Firmly pinioned beneath the hot, white thighs of her mistress and tormentor, the dusky girl squirmed and wriggled, her domination complete. Miranda’s orgasm broke suddenly and savagely. She arched her spine then rode Jaya’s face with her scalding, open wetness, grinding down into the upturned face between her powerful thighs. With a mutual, echoing scream, they collapsed into a sweaty heap of drained passion. Spent and exhausted, they curled up into a close embrace.
Later, after soothing cups of Gunpowder tea served with slices of lemon, Miranda became businesslike and practical.
‘Perfume. Opium, I think. The Jicky by Guerlain is too subtle for our purpose.’
She dabbed the heavy, sweetly toxic scent between her breasts, at the base of her neck and onto her wrists. She was both liberal and slightly reckless as she splashed the perfume all over Jaya’s naked, softly glowing body.
‘Good. Now for some panties. Gold for you, black for me.’ She tossed Jaya a flimsy wisp of gold lace. Jaya held them up in amazement on the tip of one finger. Miranda looked over her shoulder in the mirror as she pulled her scantily cut panties up, deep into her parted cleft. They felt good. Nice and tight, snuggling closely against her pubic mound. Jaya followed, dipping her lissome legs one by one into the fragile golden lace.
‘We’ll go bra-less. Suspenders — these for you,’ Miranda said, tossing Jaya a crimson suspender belt. ‘I’ll stick with black.’
They both adorned themselves with the belts, thrilling — as many women do — to the close, sensuous embrace that kissed and clung to their skin so tightly.
‘Stockings. White for you, with a nice, thick seam. I’ve got a pair of really vampy fishnets somewhere here… got them,’ said Miranda triumphantly.
Jaya flexed, then straightened, her left leg as she rolled the sheer stocking up along the full length of it. At the fullest part of her rounded thigh, she snapped the suspenders down into the stocking top. Arching her foot, she examined the effect critically, seemed satisfied, then sinuously and sensuously stepped into the other.
‘Seams straight?’ she asked, standing with her back to Miranda, peering down over her shoulder at her pert, freshly spanked bottom. The cheeks wob-bled slightly so she clenched them. Miranda, adjusting her glossy fishnets, looked up. She squinted, head inclined, then grinned.
‘Perfect,’ she purred, appraising the effect of the sheer stockings on Jaya’s sweeping, curved long legs.
‘Now for our battledress. Something loud, sexy and brash. Now
what have we got in here?’
She thumbed through her capacious wardrobe, selecting and rejecting several items.
‘Here we are,’ she smiled wickedly, pulling out two tight bolero jackets, severely cropped and open down the front with no fastenings. They were both cut from a seamless roll of electric blue velvet. Two jet black micro skirts enhanced the lascivious, leggy look.
‘Shoes,’ Miranda speculated pensively. She passed Jaya a pair of red, strappy ultra-high heels. The effect was stunning. Jaya’s tight rump was thrust upwards and outwards immediately. Miranda selected a pair of high-heeled leopard skin sandals. Fully dressed, or at least partially covered by the clothes Miranda had chosen so deliberately, they looked like a couple of call girls in the car park of the Dorchester.
‘We’ll take a cab.’
They took one. The cabbie refused any fare. He had driven them to Knightsbridge with his tongue hanging out like a labrador slobbering over liver sausage.
First stop was at an exclusive patisserie, from which they emerged with a large silver carton topped off with an outrageous crimson ribbon. In the vast Knightsbidge emporium, they made several rather more bizarre purchases, raising eyebrows among the female assistants — and much more among the men who served them so promptly and attentively. A brief stop in a magic and novelty joke shop in the Brompton Road was all that lay between them and their visit to the solicitor’s Fulham Road lair.
‘In we go,’ Miranda said, grimacing.
They dismissed the startled receptionist and locked the outer door behind her. Miranda strode towards the inner sanctum. Jaya, unaccustomed to the height of her heels, teetered tipsily in her wake.
Porteous gasped as they burst into his office.
‘Good gracious,’ he exclaimed, his eyes bulging.
‘Oh, dear Mr Porteous,’ Miranda gushed in tones of simpering treacle, ‘I simply had to come and thank you for all you have done for me.’
‘Me too,’ chimed in Jaya, musically. ‘I owe you so much and must repay you somehow.’ She let her cropped bolero swing open. Her breasts bounced and wobbled deliciously with a rubbery naughtiness.
The Academy Page 22
