Kendra felt the long winding tether of the leather end of the belt slam into her left thigh. She knew from the intensity of the burning sensation, that the woman must have broken her skin.
"Aaiiieee!!!!" she shouted in shock and horror, tossing her raven haired head around wildly.
"That's more like it," Joanna railed, bringing her whip up and slicing it down again. She let it snap hard against the woman's right hip, evening the score.
"No, please!!!" Kendra screamed in protest.
"You can't do that to her " Paul shouted from the front room.
"Very well," the leather-clad bitch bellowed, "I'll do it to you instead."
She paraded back into the living room and clenched the buckle end of the man's belt in her hand. The guy was begging for it. Begging for a taste of her whip.
She let out a long, ear-piercing whiplash, uncoiling the tether strap out over the man's chest. It hit him square in the stomach.
"Ow!" he said, sharply.
"Please stop," Kendra pleaded from her place stretched out spread eagle across the dining room table. "Think of the children."
"Yeah," Joanna said turning to see the woman's outstretched cunt lips, lining up like a tiny pink accordion. It was the perfect complement to her boyfriend's mass of throbbing hard purple cock pole. "Why should we include them out?"
Joanna looked up the stairs toward the bedroom of the sleeping kids.
Why indeed? Adults had all the fun. Invite them down. Let them get a taste of the good stuff.
CHAPTER ONE
"Eat my whip!" the Amazon blonde woman spat into the face of her slave, "Eat it!!!"
She hauled her hard, black leather gloved hand back and brought her whip firmly down along his backside. The thing had already begun to look like a road map. There were red lines running in a crazed pattern all over his back and down his sides. Also up and over his spread out ass cheeks.
But then, Damon loved this sort of thing. It is what he came to her for and paid top dollar to get.
"I don't like the way you slobber on my boot," she said, bending over to wipe away a drop of moisture the man had accidentally let drool out of his hot parched lips during the extensive punishment session. "I think you better lick it off."
With that, the haughty dominatrix thrust the tip of her shoe into the man's pained face.
She held him hard by the hair and yanked his head back strongly. He let out a short, tight cry from the back of his throat and gasped for air.
"What a poor little hog-tied pussy cat," she said, staring down into his face "Can't get any spit on your tongue to wash your mistress's boot off with?"
The man tried to answer, but felt the constriction in the back of his throat stop his words where they lay.
"I'll just have to give you a little drinkie poo, won't I?" the woman sneered.
She swung his whole head sideways and brought it down into a bucket of ice that had been slowly melting since the session had begun. She always kept ice around the room in case she needed it. And from the look of Damon's back right now, she would be needing it soon.
"Arrrggghhhh!" the shocked man mumbled as his face hit the ice water floating around in the bucket.
"Now you'll have sufficient moisture in your mouth to clean my boot," the woman hissed.
She grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and tossed his head down onto her boot toe. The shiny black leather high heeled boot that she had so painstakingly polished before she began this session today.
Everything was always perfect at Joanna Caufield's house. Some mistresses she knew used vinyl boots these days, claiming leather was too expensive and time-consuming to keep up. Not Joanna.
Nothing but first-class leather boots would do. And leather equipment. The finest in braided whips and crops for her. Nothing plastic or cheap. That's why her customers were willing to pay her so much to get their rocks off.
Things always looked so right at her place And Joanna looked right, too. She was a stunning woman. Nearly six feet tall with sharp, sculpted shoulders and huge, heaving tits Her waist was small and mobile and her hips rounded and full.
Her legs were magnificent. Her best feature, she thought. They were long, tapered and shapely. She wasn't ashamed to wear a black leather corset with only a leather garter belt, mesh stockings and bikini leather panties. Not at all.
She had nothing to hide. It was difficult hiding her tits, though. They were mammoth and demanded constant attention. She was always oiling them down, rubbing them or getting her masseur to do the job.
That was one of the benefits of doing so well as a dominatrix. She could afford a masseur. Of course he doubled as her chauffeur and part-time cook and secretary, but he was hired help. And that made her feel even more regal than she looked.
Even on her days off, she commanded attention. She wore the tightest, most fashionable clothes she could find, often having them made for her. She wanted her figure stressed, believing that it never hurt to advertise.
Of course, the advertising was done by word of mouth. She owned an exclusive salon, not a house, not a parlor, not a joint. A salon. She had gold leaf cards printed up to prove it.
"Joanna Caufield" her card read, "Owner and Operator". And in large black letters at the top of the card, "Salon Elite", the name of her establishment.
She was lucky to have found this place. There weren't many high-rises in Los Angeles. A penthouse suite. Just the place suitable to her operations.
The neighbors may have suspected, but she was extremely discreet. All the walls had been soundproofed so passers-by couldn't hear her clients screaming deliriously a mixture of pain and agonized pleasure.
It had cost a slight fortune, having the place decorated to her specifications. A huge garden in the center of the square apartment. With an open-air roof no less. A whirlpool, a sauna, an exercise room. And of course, a dungeon. Fully outfitted with the latest in bondage and domination equipment.
Stocks, pillories, even a guillotine Not to mention assorted whipping posts, torches, racks, thumbscrew posts and a wide range of whips, chains, cuffs, locks, boxes of torture, crops of all distinctions.
Not all the equipment was used all the time, but she knew how to use it when and if it was necessary. She made good use of the exercise room herself and she worked out at karate and yoga every day. And she lifted weights.
Some of her customers were strong men, who needed a bit of physical domination as well as her expert psychological domination. But most of them came here for that. The woman was a master at it.
"I don't see that tongue coming out all the way," she said, in a nasty low bitch voice to the man kneeling down at her feet, "and I demand to."
She cracked the whip hard in her hand and made the guy crawl even lower to her boot tip.
Her lips twisted into a cruel smile.
"Let's see it now," she said, splatting him again on the ass cheeks, "I want to see that tongue work!!!!!"
The man tensed his facial muscles and let his tongue out further from the back of his mouth. He didn't think he could get it out any further. He felt nearly faint from all the workout this bitch had been doing on him.
But if he was tired, his cock didn't show it. It throbbed mightily. Harder than it did anywhere else he ever went. And Damon DeFrance could afford the best in women all over town ... all over the world.
But this is where he came to serve the best mistress of them all. He pressed his large, hot tongue down on the woman's boot tip and began to lick it. He saw the steam on her shoe created by his breath and knew he'd best hurry or get punished for leaving it there.
He wasn't quite sure what it was about this woman that drew him two, three times a week to receive his ration of punishment. It was something about how believable she was, authentic.
Yes, he thought, as he slurped up the juice he had spilled there and kept his eyes downcast, that was it. The woman was authentic. He had seen a lot of them, but she believed it.
She was a dominatrix in everything she did or said. In her every gesture. She had a lot of authority and he had never seen her fake it or drop it. She may have been a professional dominatrix, but Damon knew that she also must have been one in life, to be able to be this convincing.
He lapped at her boot with all his enthusiasm With all the loyalty and devotion of a true slave. After all, he was her true slave. Had been for some three and a half years now. He would have no other mistress but her.
"I think my boot needs wiped off," the woman sneered down to him, "wipe it off, Slave."
It was difficult to do this. Damon's hands were both secured tightly behind his back. So tightly his wrists felt as though they were missing their usual supply of blood. So tightly, he felt them going number by the second.
He leaned his head down dutifully and turned it slightly to the side He wiped the cheek of his face along the hard, black leather, shining and drying it up good at the same time.
"Better," the woman allowed slowly, teasingly, "but you forgot one thing."
"Yes, Mistress?" the man said, always cautious of displeasing her, but finding it practically impossible not to.
"I don't want your disgusting skin next to my best leather boot!" she cried and with that, she kicked him in the chin and sent him sprawling across the room landing flat on his back.
"What's this?" she said, indignantly, seeing Damon's huge, thrusting hard on.
He looked at it, too. It had begun to take on mammoth proportions in the past few minutes. His cheeks burned with shame and his cock shared the color of his shame.
It glowed nearly crimson. And with the purplish vein, winding around the hard, thick, long shaft like ivy round a telephone pole, the thing was a sight to see.
But she acted rather disgusted by the whole spectacle.
"If you have to get hard," she said, bringing her hands to her hips and regarding him as though he were scum at the bottom of her toilet bowl, "do so when I command it and not until."
Damon nodded his head and felt weak and sick in the knees. The woman wouldn't give him an inch. She was absolutely the most demanding, overheated bitch he had ever encountered.
And, he couldn't get enough of her. Of her body, of her mind, of the taste of her whip.
"Yes, Mistress," he replied, feeling the ache in balls as they pounded against his dick base.
"You sniveling brat," the woman said, walking over toward him, "you think just because you have a hard on, I'll let you get away with shit, don't you?"
"No, Mistress," Damon replied, wishing he didn't sound so defensive.
"Well, I won't," she railed, slamming her whip down on the floor. She looked as tall as a statue towering over him like that. He felt very small indeed, scuttling along the floor away from her.
"Don't you try to get away," she warned, snapping her whip once, then bringing it back over her head, lashing it out and curling it around his ankle.
She pulled him back toward her as the sound of skin along parquet greeted both their ears. The man let out a howl as the floor burned his raw, swollen backside
"Aaaiiieee!!!" he hollered, shaking his head in protest.
"You're going to have to learn a few things about making noises," the woman said, "I've told you before. No unnecessary talking unless I give the order!!!!"
With that she snapped her whip down onto the ground and brought it up again, letting him see what a big, brutal leather strap she was controlling.
"I don't want to have to tape your mouth," she said, a trifle snotty. "I'd miss all that marvelous conversation coming from you."
The slave shook his head slowly and began to speak, "I am sorry, Mistress. It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't," the woman spoke harshly.
Joanna turned on her high heels and walked toward a little table. There were many things laid out there for her to use on her clients. There was also a tray of sandwiches. She was extraordinarily hungry at the moment.
She leaned over and took a bit bite of the egg sandwich in front of her.
"I wonder if my slave is hungry," she said, in a calculated sing-song voice. She loved teasing this man. He loved it so much. "Are you hungry, Slave?"
"Yes, Mistress," the timid voice replied.
Joanna took another mouth load. Funny this guy should respond so timidly. He was well over six feet himself and in top physical condition.
She knew for a fact that he jogged every day and lifted weights. Yet he was here to be dominated. And she was here to dominate him. It all fitted together so comfortably for her.
"Very well," she said, parading over to him and dangling the remains of her sandwich over his head, "Here. Sit up and beg for it."
Damon gritted his teeth and got up onto his feet, crouching down in dog position. It wasn't easy, seeing as how both his feet and hands were bound. But he had to do what his mistress commanded, or she would force him to anyway.
He sat back on his haunches and lifted his head up. Joanna looked at him a moment. Odd, she thought, that big beefy guy is much stronger and much bigger than me. Yet here he is, doing exactly what I want him to. She felt an overall glow consume her whole body.
Isn't it what she wanted all her life? To have some nice man to dominate? To know that you were needed beyond a shadow of a doubt? To fit into a scheme of things by virtue of your ability to control it?
She watched as the humiliated slave begged her for the bite of food she held fast in her hand.
Damon let out a series of low whines from the back of his throat. He breathed in and out rapid-fire style like a dog. He lifted his head and let his hair fall over his shoulders as he continued to make those arcane sounds.
"Better," Joanna said, giving him an inch or two more of the sandwich, as she lowered it more toward his lips.
She dangled the food just over his lips and then let it fall. He caught some of it with his teeth and the rest fell to the floor.
Damon chewed the stuff up fast, as Joanna paced quickly up and down in front of him.
"I don't like messes on the floor, Doggie," the bitch brayed, snapping her leather belt slowly at her side.
"I'll clean it up Mistress," the man said, poking his head down and licking at the bread crusts and sandwich filling that had fallen out when she dropped it.
"You certainly will," Joanna glowered.
Damon stuffed the food down as quickly as he could and returned to his place on the floor.
Joanna let her whip hiss at her feet as she paraded around in front of him. She thrust one of her hips out and walked leaning on it.
"Slave," she said, entirely satisfied that their session had progressed to the point where she wanted it to, "you may masturbate."
Damon's cheeks glowed with shame. This part was difficult, but if he could handle it, he could get himself the longest, wildest, most heady come he had ever known.
With his hands tied behind his back, he crawled over to where his mistress was standing like a stone object. He rose up onto his knees and worked his feet apart a bit. It wasn't easy, considering his ankles were in cuffs with a short length of heavy chain between them.
He stuck his hips out far enough for his cock to rise naturally up between his legs and jut out at a hard angle to the floor. Then, he worked his thick, hard dick knob between the woman's calves and felt the hard, yet strangely soft and eerie sensation of stockinged legs against the head of his schlong.
She stood there immobile as he began to jerk his erect stick in and out of her tightly-pressed legs.
He worked his prick out and saw that he had smeared the semen running out of his cock slit around nicely, easing the way in and out of her legs. He stuck his dick in between them hard and felt it sink down to the hilt. He looked down to see his prick disappear into a pair of shapely legs. The sensation was totally intriguing. One big rush.
"Jerk that dick for me, Damon," the woman said, pressing her legs even tighter together. She rotated her whip around until she had the crop end turned up in her hand.
Then, with part of it exposed, she leaned over slightly and found the soft target between her slave's big, throbbing balls. She massaged them roughly as he continued to haul his schlong in and out of her tight, smooth legs.
She was making him hot as blazes. Kneading his nuts that way. She worked the tip of her crop around slowly, hotly, making his pendulous balls tighten up more and more with each probe.
"Ooooh," Joanna let out, "you've got such a big pair of balls. Too bad about the rest of you."
Again, Damon's cheeks burned with rage and shame and humiliation. And his pecker stiffened still further toward the ceiling. It felt even tighter and hotter in the skimpy space Joanna was allowing for it.
"I ... I ... " he said, twisting his head around, "Oh, Mistress," he said.
It was about all he could say, considering the circumstances.
He was terribly aroused. His dick was throbbing like a conga drum, stretched too tightly over the wooden heads. His cock pole was beating in and out of the woman's legs, greasing itself up from its own semen as it darted in and out.
He could see it one moment, the next, he couldn't.
It looked terribly hard and throbbing and uplifted. He wished she would let him do this for another couple of hours, but he also knew he couldn't last that long. His prick was singing love songs to itself. Love songs to her knees.
He felt his dick skin pressed hard against the shaft of his man tool. The powerful muscles of her legs were squeezing the life out of it.
"Oh, God," he cried as he darted the thing in and out once too many times, too fast.
He felt his balls jerk out a whole hard load of come. They pumped it down his dick shaft tract and shot it out, out his round, hard pecker knob. The cock slit opened wide to shoot its hot, steamy load.
Damon shot his thick, powerful spray of come cream out, out and out and down the woman's black stockinged legs.
"Oh, shit," he cried, realizing what was happening.
He hadn't wanted to come so quickly, but he knew he would have to. He just couldn't hold it back any longer.
"God, I can't stop coming," he said, writhing his hips around and around as though doing that, would wring his dick out of the remainder of its load of thick, full semen.
He felt himself pitch back, back onto the floor. He felt his still rock hard prick slip out from between the tight little crack between his mistress's legs. He let himself drift downward onto his back and park himself there for a while.
It would be all right. She wouldn't come after him with her whip for another little while yet. He would be okay there He lay there and saw sparks fly in front of his eyes interspersed by a white flash once in a while.
Why was it he never had comes like that except here? His girlfriends, the legions of them, could never supply him with the kind of punishment and pleasure he could get here simultaneously.
And those feelings together made his whole body rush forward and exhaust itself faster and more completely than it did in any other circumstance.
That knowledge always scared him just a bit. Why was it that way? Why wasn't straight sex good enough for him.
He blinked his eyes and staggered up. He looked around to see that Joanna was gone.
His dick still throbbed. It throbbed the message that he was spent. That he had exhausted his prostrate load and was still alive, in spite of his huge, total come episode.
He crawled to the round bed on the floor in the corner and lay there, exhausted and heaving heavily.
Joanna Caufield strolled into her dressing room and began to take off a few things. The mask. The one that partly hid the expression on her face that even she was frightened by sometimes.
She really was into it, wasn't she? She knew women who worked at being a dominatrix. They wore masks to hide their insincerity. She wore masks only when the clients requested it.
Otherwise, she would go without. After all, she was proud of her face. Almost as proud of her face as she was of her body. And that, she was extremely proud of.
She held her hands up to her hips and eyed herself critically in the mirror. Nearly forty years old and look at that body!!! She could hardly believe it herself sometimes.
Often, just to fool people she would go out dressed as a teenager. Nobody knew the fucking difference. Her tits were so firm she didn't even need a bra. Of course, they were so big, that heads turned always to catch sight of her sailing past.
But then, she had always craved attention. Even when she was young. Maybe she was an exhibitionist. So what? That was only a word.
A word like dominatrix. That was only a word, too. What she loved was not just dressing up in black leather garments, theatrical ones at that, but being there with her entire awareness and attention.
She knew she was good, because she had been told so many times. And rewarded so handsomely. But she also knew why. She needed it as much as her slaves did. The attention, the glamour the loyalty. She had to have it or she would wither up and die.
"Tim," she said, poking her head out her dressing room door into the exercise room.
A tall, athletic young man looked in her direction and put down the huge weight he was pressing against his chest.
"Miss Joanna?" he said, tossing his sandy brownish hair back and patting it down. He was well aware of how much she liked him to appear clean and neat and ready at all times.
And he had had a rare opportunity to witness what she did to people who disobeyed her.
"Put this mask on and go in and untie him," she said, matter of factly, "if his face isn't turned to the wall, do so."
Tim knew the routine pretty well by now. He could just go in there and sort of quietly help the guy out of his bonds, whatever they happened to be for that particular day.
He had become quite an expert at undoing complicated knots. The kind Miss Joanna liked to tie. He had never seen a woman with such an aptitude for knots.
Joanna sighed and looked in the mirror. The mask had left a little red mark behind her ears. Red mark reminded her of something she had to tell Tim.
She opened the door to the torture chamber, but found that Tim knew what to do without being told.
He was squeezing a cloth into the ice water. She knew that would be to dress the man's whip marks. The ones he had paid so dearly to receive. The ones that gave her such a thrill to give to him.
Joanna began to undo the laces in front of her corset. Some women who worked in her profession complained of how that thing bound them in, nearly cutting off their breath. But she loved it. It made her hourglass figure even more hourglass.
And it always made her hot just to watch herself in the mirror with that thing wrapped around her curvaceous body. She let the lace loose in the grommets and pulled the top of it down over her tits.
That was a sight she liked to see. Her huge, melon round tits rising over that black leather corset.
She certainly had a set to be proud of. The widest, roundest most uplifted tits with big rubbery, silver dollar shaped nipples in the center. And her nipples were such a dark, deep reddish color. Not washed out pale or too brown, but perfect.
She lifted her hands up and rubbed the nipples around and around, bringing them to a stiff peak.
That always made her feel better. Rubbing her huge, hard nipples till they stood at attention.
She peeled the corset, lovingly down over her waist and hips, revealing her tight, impeccably firm frame. Her tiny waist and round hips came into view in the mirror.
So what the hell was wrong with her if she liked getting off on herself. After all, she was usually alone, so wasn't it perfectly normal for her to enjoy herself in the privacy of her own home?
She did admit to getting turned when she held her punishment sessions, but she was there to get the client off, not herself.
And, at nights, after having worked hard all day, who felt like going out on a fucking date for Chrissakes?
Not her. She didn't have the stomach for it anyway. What would be the point of letting some Mr. Milquetoast wine and dine you at his expense just so he could drive you to his apartment and boff you to his heart's content?
She needed this in her life? She didn't need anybody to take her out. She had plenty of money. More than a lot of men she knew. And she wasn't especially charmed by the company of most men. They just didn't share her experiences. What could they possibly understand about how much she loved her work?
Oh, sure, they were allowed to brag on and on about what companies they had gotten out of the red, merged with, saved accounts for. Men were permitted to talk all they wanted about their cut-throat professions.
Well, she had never hurt anybody, unless they asked for it. And she wasn't appreciated whenever she wanted to talk about her work. Most men wouldn't allow it in polite circles.
So, there hadn't been much social life, after a certain point. When had it been? Five years ago? Six?
There was Tim. He was good company. But he was younger and totally inexperienced about the world. He wasn't quite sure what she did in there with those men, let alone be into it himself.
She used to tease him about his naivety. Then, one day, he told her to cut it out because he was in love with her.
Well, she didn't mind that. Men were falling in love with her constantly. Sending her flowers, money, gifts, cars. That was fine. But this was a kid. Twenty years younger than her.
So, she had learned to use that, too, to her advantage.
She heard noises overhead that indicated Damon was leaving. She looked at her gorgeous bush in the mirror. That honey amber pie of hers. She was awfully proud of her cunt.
It was a thirsty, tight little tunnel that could stretch out and take most anything that was thrust up in it. Though, she couldn't remember the last time she had been fucked really good.
Still, she loved to display it whenever possible. She belonged to several private nudist clubs just to have the opportunity of showing it off to large gatherings of people.
What she especially liked about it was her clit. The thing was the size of a thimble before it was fully engorged. It protruded slightly between her lips and stuck up at a rather inviting angle, she thought.
It invited her. It invited her to stick her long highly-polished red fingernail up inside her cunt lips and diddle her clit softly just to watch it rise up and throb against her cunt lips.
"Ooooh," she said to herself, "uuuuhhh."
She had forgotten how good that felt, having that finger doing the talking to her clit.
She leaned her weight on one hand on the dressing room counter and lifted one leg up and put her high-heeled boot down next to it. That gave her a spectacular view of her hot, pink, pussy slit and all the delicious folds of flesh that flared out on either side of it.
She found her clit easily and passed her fingers back and forth across it and up and down over it, making it hot, wet and slippery. It grew fuller under her fingers from the friction and she had difficulty keeping her eyes on it, so busy was she tossing her head around in ecstasy.
She pulled the elastic band of the leather panties wider, wider to see up inside there.
"Oh, fuck it," she said, yanking the panties off completely and letting them fall to the floor around her one standing leg.
She was naked now except for the garter belt and mesh stockings. They were too dramatic to take off just yet. And too much trouble.
She flicked her clit hard with her fingernails, watching it bounce back each time she did so. That got her hot and still hotter. She flashed on someone else being in the cubicle dressing room with her.
Why not?
"Tim," she said, opening the door, with one hand and keeping her other hand encircled around her bulging clitoris, "can you come down here a minute?"
She heard the thudding footsteps immediately bounding down the carpeted flight of steps leading from the kitchen and living room area to the first floor level.
The kid was really moving to get there. That much she could hear.
Well, well, well. What would she do with little Timmy when he got here? Make him eat her till he couldn't breathe? That might be fun.
She swung the dressing room bench back a ways with her hand and stood up and walked over to it. She lay back on it a moment and let her feet drape over either side of it.
That put direct focus on her cunt, now spread-eagled over the upholstered bench. She lifted one knee up and continued whacking herself off. She had a view of herself in the mirror in front of her as well as on the ceiling.
Great idea, mirrored dressing room. She had to congratulate herself for having thought of it.
The boy rapped soundly at the dressing room door.
"Come in," she said, wetting her lips.
She didn't like anybody to see her unless she was picture perfect.
The eager beaver boy opened the door and stood there a moment glancing at the spectacle that greeted his eyes. Filled them up to the brim.
"Oh, Jees," he said, twisting his head around.
It was the sort of thing he worked all day around the house hoping to get a peek at. She would call him once in a while, two sometimes three times a week and ask him to service her in some way.
He loved it. He blushed a bit around his peach-fuzzy cheeks and shut the door behind him.
"Come here, Tim," Joanna cooed to him, lasciviously, "I need a massage."
The boy almost leapt up to join her there on the bench. Instead, he scooted down onto his knees and stared into her lovely, haunting face.
"Where?" he said, rubbing his hands along his jeans-covered thighs, heating them up. Miss Joanna hated cold hands.
"Isn't it obvious?" the woman said, showing him her proud profile.
"I'll say," the lad said, with his tongue practically hanging out.
"Just use your fingertips lightly all over here," the woman said, "you know how I like it."
Tim did, too. She had directed him often enough. It was difficult, pleasing her. She was terribly demanding. And it wasn't much of a picnic working on a woman who insisted on wearing stiletto heels all the time.
He had been kicked more than a few times in the chin by her. Enough to know that he had to watch every little move he made around her. She wanted all his moves to be perfect.
"That's right," the woman purred as he brought his hands up and began slowly, gently massaging the lips of her outstretched pussy.
He ran his lingers delicately around her cunt like a skater around a rink. He worked his mouth down over her nipples and gave them a long, hot wet kiss. One on each side.
That's the way she always wanted it. Still, there was a little fear of apprehension inside him, even as he did this. He never knew when she would change the game on him and slap him across the room for some unknown infringement of her rules.
Or when she would bring her boot heel up high over his shoulders and plant it down in his back. The woman was very strong. And she had the element of surprise going for her as well.
Still, he longed to service her in any way he could.
He brought her everything she asked for. Bent to all her demands. Just as he was bending to this one. He sucked her right nipple hard between his lips and worked his fingers a little higher up inside her cunt lips.
He roamed around the slippery petals of her blooming fruit cunt and felt his pecker stiffen up.
That usually began to happen along about now whenever he was servicing her. If he was real good at it, she would let him take it out and whack it off herself sometimes. Or she would vary the game however she wanted. Funny how women who were in charge always got to change the rules whenever they liked.
But then, he wasn't here to question her authority. If he had, he would have been out on his ass long ago. The job paid plenty. Enough for him to pay for his massage degree should he ever go back to school.
Then, he would open up a real exclusive health club, with himself as the licensed masseur in charge of the place. But right now, he had other things on his mind besides making it in the world.
He had making it in Miss Caufield's dressing room on his mind. So did his cock. It had all the signs of a heavy aching on it. The rounded, smooth head kept pressing against his shorts and into the back of his pants zipper.
His balls thudded against his erect member, making movement very difficult. But then, there wasn't any place he especially wanted to go. Only to get closer into Miss Joanna's wide, pulsating pussy lips.
He loved having his hands in there, scouting out new folds to rub and press into. His nuts were jamming him from moving around too freely right now. That and his mammoth big dick.
But with what mobility he had, he leaned over to the woman and tickled her nipples with his tongue.
"Suck me," she commanded in that dominatrix voice of hers. He wasn't too crazy about that voice. It sounded damned threatening. But he was crazy about her.
And that's why he hauled his ass down close to her cunt and gave her the licking she craved. The licking she commanded.
"Harder," she said, through clenched teeth.
The woman was insatiable. She wanted to be eaten often and just the way she wanted it. The most demanding employer he had ever had. And the sexiest.
He pressed her cunt lips wide apart with his own muscular lips and dug his tongue up into the crack as she spread her legs wider to receive him.
"Now my clit," the woman sneered, "you can do it."
He could, too. He batted his tongue against her outstretched engorged clitoris and bathed it in saliva and vibrations.
He slithered his tongue all over her clit and continued to press the lips of her cunt wider and wider apart with his fingers. Then, he pulled her lips sharply together wrapping them around her clit and diddled it with them.
That always got her good and hot. He loved it when she started getting hot and told him he was doing a good job. She seldom did it. He wondered if she would tonight.
"Lemme feel that big handle of yours," the woman said, "now."
She always called the shots. No matter who was on top.
Tim hoisted his ass up to allow himself the freedom to find his zipper. His cock needed no encouragement to come out of its hiding place once he had that zipper down.
It bobbed up between his pants slit and made its appearance on the scene with the thickest, most succulent round head aimed straight at Miss Joanna's body.
The shaft was nothing to sneeze at either. Fully a whole hand grip around and hard as a brick bat. And long. Tim had never measured it, but he had never had any complaints from any girls, either.
Never. Until Miss Joanna. But her complaints had nothing to do with his size.
"Put it up here where I can see it," the woman said, "Christ, if I had a cock as hot as yours, I wouldn't hide it."
Tim gripped his dick with his hands and flung it up onto his mistress's flat stomach.
"Come on," she said, "what are you waiting for? Roll it around."
That was one action that nearly drove Tim crazy. He would continue to ply his hands inside his boss's cunt while he rolled his dick around on her stomach.
For some reason, she got off on it. And he did, too. Though he knew the reason why very well.
His dick got hot just being near her, rolling it around on her made it stand up and shout.
"Use your whole hand to fuck," the woman commanded, bringing herself up onto one of her elbows to watch the young man work on her "Come on. Fuck like a man."
Young Tim was beside himself He had never taken any guff off any girl in his life before coming to work for Miss Joanna. Most girls were putty in his hands before this bitch had gotten a hold of him.
What was it about her that made him want to serve her like this? He felt so small and insignificant around her. Yet, she always had him there whenever she wanted. He always came.
"Get your hands working double time," the woman snarled, her upper lip curling cruelly, "I haven't got all day."
Tim bowed his head down and continued working his hard, throbbing pecker head around on the woman's hard, taut stomach. He dug his hands into her pussy hole and began swirling them around.
He felt a hot strand of clear cunt honey rolling out of her pussy and covering his hands as it did so. Well he thought, at least I know now I'm making her hot.
He usually did get her off. But she made him go through his paces just to do that. And he loved it His face burned hot with the shame of being forced to serve her on his knees like this.
And from having his thick, pounding prick stick denied entry into her cunt.
How could she be so fucking unfeeling anyway? And why was he so willing to stay bent over and give her everything she asked for?
The mystery went on and on. He felt her tapping him on the shoulder. He looked up to see her staring down at him coolly, calmly, completely in control of him.
"Dig, boy," she said, as though he were planting potatoes on her plantation and she was an overseer "Come on, go to it."
He burrowed his hands harder and harder up inside her cunt and spread his dick around her stomach as though it were a butter knife and she were a piece of hard bread.
He felt bubble after bubble of semen gurgle out of the deep slit in the head of his round, hard cock knob.
It flowed out and down and juiced up the way around her stomach. It made her stomach slippery enough for him to spread his dick out onto and roll over and over and around and around and every which way.
"Keep that up and I'm gonna come," Miss Joanna cooed into his ear.
That drove him crazy. He pounded his dick down onto her stomach and drew his fingers in and out real fast. He felt her cunt muscles close around his fingers each time he thrust them up inside and heard the wet hot slurping and suctioning sound each time he pulled them out.
In and out.
Harder and faster.
"Ooooh," the woman cried in the back of her throat, "get me off Get me off, Tim boy."
That always made his toes curl up. The way she called him 'Tim boy'. He didn't know why exactly. He was twenty-four years old. Old enough to think of himself as a man. But when she called him that, he felt like he was hers, like he belonged to her completely. And that made him burst in a rush of shame and guilt and crazed lust.
He was beside himself as he continued to thrust his fingers in and out of her cunt just as she commanded him to.
"Better," she cried, unable to hold back the arrival of her first climax in several days. Her whole body began an overall tremble, building to a severe shudder before she let her head fly back and let out a long, low screeching sound, like a siren.
"Don't stop," she yelled at him. "Keep going."
Tim raced his fingers in and out of her whole, screwing her with all his might. He plastered her stomach with his dick, rubbing it around and around in rapid circles, then thudding it against her hard, tight flesh.
"I can't take that anymore," she said at last, falling into a series of non-stop hip-thrusting climaxes.
She pounded her hips up and down and around and around, shooting her load out her cunt lips and down onto Tim's busy fingers.
The boy rammed his cock down close to her cunt lips and let it thud against her pubic bone. He felt the trickle of cunt honey bathe it and felt himself shoot his white, hot load from deep up inside his balls.
His come load shot out in hard jets of white, even spunk. It covered the woman's lustrous amber bush and trickled down into her cunt crack.
"Don't let any semen run down there," she said, sitting up and staring down at him. "I can't let that happen. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it."
She brushed at his come, forcing it away from her cunt crack. She sat up and shoved him aside furiously as she made her way to her dressing table stand and reached for the tissue box.
She pulled out a handful of tissues and scoured her cunt round and round with them.
"Where's that ice bucket?" she hollered, "I've got to get this stuff off."
"It's just a little harmless come," Tim said, pulling his still rock hard pecker up hard and trying to tuck it back into his pants. It was giving him a lot of difficulty and precious little cooperation.
"Harmless come?" the woman shouted, her eyebrows arching up to her forehead. "What the hell are you talking about? I'll show you harmless come."
She grabbed the handful of tissues she had wiped the slick, jism up with and strode over to him in long, loud steps, her stiletto heels scraping the floor.
And then, she picked his head up quickly by the hair and yanked it back, stuffing the tissue with its man load of spunk cream on it square into his face.
CHAPTER TWO
"Tiptoe!!!" the blonde-haired boy said to his sister, in a sharp whisper, "don't let them hear you."
Tish closed the door to her bedroom very softly and stole down the hall as her brother suggested. On tiptoe. She was bare footed so that made it easier.
She lifted the hem of her long nightgown up and felt the chilly floor boards beneath her feet squeak a bit when she put pressure on them.
She stepped on a particularly noisy one and froze. She glanced up at her brother who had his finger pressed up to his lips, indicating for her to be quieter
She really didn't see the need for being so extra specially cautious. Daddy would have his radio on. He always did when he made love to Kendra. That was so the children couldn't hear him.
But the children weren't in their rooms listening. They were out in the hall spying on him.
"It's open," Lance whispered to his sister, making the shape of the words very evident by moving his mouth in such a way as to emphasize each vowel.
Tish gripped the edge of the door that her twelve year old brother offered her and stuck her head under his. Standing like that, with his chin resting against her head gave her. a marvelous view of the big, round bed her Daddy was lying on and balling his secretary.
It had been quite a sex education around there the last three years. Ever since their mother had died tragically in an auto accident. It was a freak accident. There had been no one else in the car with her. And there had been a string of housekeepers to look after them for a while.
But the kids were wild without their mother's firm hand to control them. She had been quite a disciplinarian. Really made them tow the mark.
But now, without her restraining hand around to guide them, they did whatever they liked. Until their Dad caught them ...
But usually, he was too busy at the office or too busy balling one of his girlfriends. Funny. But it hadn't taken him too long to get over the loss of his dear wife before he had started dating again.
A few of the housekeepers had gossiped about that. But one of the kinder ones explained to them that she thought he just missed their Mommy so terribly he had to go out and find as many young women as he could to try and replace the big void he felt in his heart.
That did seem to make sense. And it was an explanation they could both cop to readily. And, considering the hot and heavy action going on in Daddy's bedroom just now, they could sympathize.
"Oh, Paul," the sexed up bitch called from the bed, "do that to me again."
From the angle of the bed to the door, the kids had a great ringside view of the action.
It always made Tish's cunt wet to see that woman spread out on her father's bed taking it in the cunt like that.
And it made her even hotter to see her father plugging his secretary. He had such a long, thick wick on him. And it looked so wet and hard and gleaming in the dim light of the bedroom whenever he pulled it out and held it there a moment so the woman could admire it, lick it, fondle it with her hands, or whatever happened to be the main activity that particular night.
"Ouch!" Tish whispered as her brother slammed his chin down on her head. "Watch it."
He must have been getting hot. He was usually pretty careful where he put his head.
"Quiet yourself!" Lance hissed down to her. He didn't like his sister giving him orders. He only liked it when his mother did it. But she was gone now. And there was no one to replace her.
"Oh, no," the woman cried as the man plunged his thick, hard dick down into her stretched out cunt lips.
Paul Painter pulled his dick out again and sat back on his knees. He rolled the writhing not woman over onto her stomach and helped her prop her knees up under herself.
He spread the lips of her pussy out wide and hunched his hips back hard, aiming his erect prick at her juiced up hole.
He thrust his prick into her willing, wet pink slit and drove it as high and hard inside as he could.
He pumped his hips up and down and around and around, driving his pecker deeper and deeper inside the agitated, horny woman.
"Shit!" Lance said, leaning forward so far, he almost pushed the door open. He would have if his sister hadn't had her hand on the doorknob, holding it.
"Just be quiet and watch and learn something," his blonde-haired sister shot back in her slightly lisping whisper.
She had a slightly lisping whisper because she spoke with a slight lisp. It was cute on her, though. Everything else was cute on her, too. Her tits had really started to develop just in the last six months. That made living with her interesting and though he didn't share a room with her, he had started to wish he did.
They had always fought as kids, unless mother had been around to straighten them out. She would bash their heads together if she so much as caught them exchanging harsh words.
But now that she was gone, there was no one to keep him from arguing with her. Dad just didn't have much time for them what with his business and all. But the funny thing was that now that he could fight with her, he didn't want to. Holding her around the waist like he was doing now was much more fun.
He felt her wiggle her hips against him so hotly and excitedly, it made his pecker twitch.
It often twitched at night when he thought about her and how she looked in her tight little blue shorts and that white little see-through blouse of hers.
Made him hot as a pistol. Kendra was a hot lady, alright, but he would have rather been watching somebody ball his own sister. Preferably himself.
He tried to squelch those thoughts again and keep his eye on the action of the bedroom. It was certainly wild enough. His father had his hands on his hips now and he was balanced on his knees and plugging that girl's pussy for all he was worth.
He wondered why his father had never tried to tell him about sex. He was twelve this year and his father had never mentioned it to him. Oh, well, he was getting some real good demonstrations lately, so that almost made up for it.
Like the one tonight. He gripped his sister's waist and pulled her ear up to his mouth. "Fun, huh?" he said hotly into her sweet little pink shell ear.
"For her," the girl said, wiggling her hips.
That sister of his. What a hot little tease she was. Always dressing in tight shorts or short skirts. And wiggling her butt whenever she walked down the hall in front of him.
They were real close. Closer than ever after Mommy died. But she wouldn't let him get too close to her physically. That bothered him. She liked to tease him but she always kept her distance. When he had gone too far, or she thought he had, she told him so.
And she let him peek at her, too. That troubled his pecker constantly. Whenever she went into the bathroom she left her shower stall door a little open so he could walk by and have a look at her. She must have been trying to tease him. And it was working.
She made him real hot all the time, but never delivered.
"Teasing little bitch," he would mutter to himself, when she would saunter past him around the house and let her towel slide off her tits.
"Oh!" she would cry, like it was all an accident and then bend down and pick it up and twist it back around her body.
After that routine went down about sixty or seventy times, Lance figured out that it was by no means an accident. She meant every move of it.
Tish loved to tease her brother. He was so fucking responsive. She would lie awake at night and think up ways to tease him. She loved it when the front of his pants started to tent out and she knew his dick was growing all because of something she did.
It gave her a tremendous sense of power over him. But still, she knew he was a lot stronger than she was, even if he was a year younger. Almost a year.
"Oooooh," the dame on the bed said, humping her hips up further and further to take in more of Paul's delicious big cock wand. "Fuck me, fuck me."
The man obliged by yanking his big, ornery dick all the way out of the woman's hot, writhing cunt hole and climbing on top of her. Straddling her like a bucking bronco, he popped his prick stick down into her wet, throbbing cunt and fucked her first slowly, then, more and more furiously, building her up to a wailing, juicy climax.
"Could you see his vein?" Lance whispered to his sister, "the one wrapped around his big dick? I've got one like that."
"Good for you," the girl said, teasingly wiggling her hips into his.
"Wanna see?" Lance said, feeling like his pecker just might poke out of his pajamas any second.
"Not now," Tish said, staring into the dimly lit bedroom, "I'm watching Daddy fuck Kendra."
Paul Painter began winding his prick around and around inside the woman's slick, tight cunt hole. Winding it around like a drill. Aiming it higher and higher up inside her pussy hole.
"God," the woman uttered, feeling herself pulverized into the bouncing mattress. The bedsprings squeaked loudly as she flipped off into a savage, pulsating climax.
Her pussy lips throbbed mercilessly as the buildup of intensity took flight inside the core of her being and splashed down to her cunt lips and ringed them with an aura of sizzling white heat.
Paul gripped the woman's shoulders and pounded his hips into hers, bringing himself closer and closer to the edge of a hot, hard come. He thudded his pelvic bone against her rounded, luscious ass mounds.
He drilled his cock pole savagely into the sweet depths of her cunt and bounced his hips around, drawing the come hard out of his pecker shaft. It spurted in a long, thick dollop out the end of his dick slit and splashed into the tight, hot hole that was now throbbing to greet his own spunk cream.
"Oh, oh, oh," the woman cried, feeling herself lift off again even as the man splattered her cunt walls with his thick, hot jism.
Paul yanked his pecker knob out of the woman's cunt and flipped her over suddenly. He stuck his dick tip down into her mouth and let her slurp at the tip greedily to get the last bits of white, sweet cream off the tip.
Lance thought he would have to look away, he was getting so blooming hot himself. His pecker had begun to jut up to where his pajama waist string was ringing his middle.
It had started to throb with pain and ache and longing for something he still had yet to experience. The sweet, hot touch of a girl's pussy. And he knew whose he wanted.
He knew every time he saw her parade past him around the house that he wanted his sister's cunt lips wrapped around his hard, throbbing pecker. His big, untried pecker. The one that even now was shooting its own thick load of young man come. Shooting out and wetting his pajama bottoms. Shooting out and wetting the back of his own sister's nightgown.
CHAPTER THREE
"Where did you get this?" the short, petite black-haired beauty said to her friend as she pawed the expensive black sequined gown in her closet.
"Not at the five and dime," Joanna scoffed as she watched Tim bring the tray of drinks into her bedroom.
It was a huge affair with a gigantic walk-in mirrored closet attached to a dressing room which led to her dungeon chamber.
"I can't get a really good dressmaker to make my things anymore," the raven-haired girl said, eyeing the rows of slinky, tailored clothes in Joanna's closet. Her own closet was something to see, but this was sheer Nirvana.
There was nothing in the entire closet that hadn't been cut and sewn especially for her. And there was that eye catching dominatrix wardrobe of hers.
"Come on," Joanna said, reaching for a drink from the glass coffee table in the middle of the bedroom, "you've been in the business as long as I have. Surely there must be someone you trust."
"Oh," the woman sighed, trying not to sound too envious, "there was. But she got married. Couldn't quite figure out how she was going to explain black leather all over her sewing room. So, she had to quit milking my things. And here's the kicker. Her husband is one of my clients!"
Joanna sat back on her round white bed and lifted her head toward the ceiling. A low, gurgling laugh escaped from the back of her throat. "That's too much."
"Isn't it?" the woman said, kicking off one of her shoes as she spied a pair of hip-length soft leather boots with eight inch silver heels on them, "Oh, let me try these on," she said.
"Go ahead," Joanna said, "but I think you have a smaller foot than I do. Don't you?"
"Yes, but that's the only thing that's smaller," the raven-haired girl hummed deliciously.
"Lureen," Joanna said, adjusting her housecoat "if you're referring to your tits, they're the same size as mine."
"But they look a lot bigger on a little girl," the diminutive Lureen replied, holding her head up hautily and sticking her chest in Joanna's direction.
Joanna had to swallow hard and take another drink of her martini. The woman was dead on. Tits did look bigger on a little girl, but five foot one was small for a dominatrix. Her customers liked her height. Her six foot frame was one of the reasons she was so appealing as a dominatrix, in fact.
But here was this little Lureen. One of her closest friends, possibly her only friend and she wasn't doing too badly herself as a dominatrix. And she hadn't been in the business as long as Joanna.
In fact, Joanna had set her up in business. But there was a good reason for that. She and Joanna had been lovers for several years. Now, they were good friends though they still shared beds once in a while.
"I love them " the girl said, standing in front of the full-length wrap around mirror in the walk-in closet and eyeing herself hotly. "But they are too big."
She sloshed around in the boots a bit and bent down to unzip them.
Joanna had to watch her. The girl definitely had a hot body for somebody so small. Her legs were perfectly proportioned to the rest of her. And her hair was so shiny and lustrous wound up around her head like that.
"Oh, you've got to let me try this one," Lureen begged, grabbing a black cabretta camisole and garter belt combination. "I love it."
"Go ahead," Joanna said, tossing back the last of her drink and setting it on the tray. She wondered if she could pick up Lureen's drink and down it before the girl would notice. Lureen had never been much of a drinker. She was always more interested in clothes than anything else. And in dominating young, hot studs.
That was her favorite pastime. The older guys, the business types, that was work. But she adored her pets. One of whom was the quarterback for a professional football team.
She moved the girl's drink closer to her and watched it. She also watched Lureen. The girl pulled off her tight see-through blouse and unhooked her bra. She shook her full, hard tits into view and Joanna had to agree with her that they did indeed look larger on a littler girl.
In fact, they looked so much larger she found herself getting mellower by the moment just sitting there with that gorgeous little hunk of hot stuff undressing in front of her.
"Do you see Mike Rivers anymore?" Joanna asked in long, slow syllables. Mike Rivers had been a top client of hers. The man was a millionaire ten times over. And she was a good subject. He loved being worked over.
"Yeah," the girl said, wiggling her ass into the tight garment and pulling it up over her mammoth tit mounds. She still flashed a lot of skin there, almost to the nipples.
"He still liked to get slapped in the mouth with leather slippers?" Joanna said, gripping Lureen's glass and lifting it demurely off the drinks tray.
"Oh, you know how it is," Lureen said, "his old lady used to bang him around when he was a kid and then make him jerk off for her. He got used to that kind of thing and he still needs it from time to time. The guy's no trouble and he pays top dollar."
Joanna gulped one huge mouth load after another of the icy strong drink and set the glass back down to give it a rest a moment.
She knew her own drinking capacity. But lately, it had certainly increased. She was almost alarmed at how much she could handle. She drank most of her friends under the table. What few she still had.
She knew she could finish this one now and have Tim bring in a fresh tray before Lureen even looked at her. It made her slightly angry to know that Lureen wasn't looking at her in fact.
The little high-handed bitch had come over here only to examine her wardrobe. It had been like that for some time now. Ever since she started making it big on her own. Joanna felt a bitter surge of bile juice up in her core. Why had she ever been in love with this girl? And why had she been so good to her? Setting her up in business and introducing her to some of her top clients ... like Mike Rivers.
The woman had no gratitude at all toward her for it. Most of the time, in fact, she blew her off. Like when she suggested they go out of town together. Or that they go in on a penthouse to save money.
"And Steve Lurie?" Joanna said, feeling an even more bitter surge of envy well up inside her. "Do you see him often?"
"Not often," Lureen said, looking at her backside over her shoulder in the mirror.
Fucking little narcissist, Joanna thought to herself. Putting on my clothes and stealing my clients. She hadn't seen Steve Lurie in over a year. Mike Rivers in nearly two.
"What do you mean 'not often' anyway?" she said, glancing at the girl's legs.
They were well-proportioned for a sawed off little squirt like Lureen.
"Oh, two three times a week," the girl said, absent mindedly.
Joanna grabbed the glass off the tray and hurled it across the room, narrowly missing Lureen's head.
"Jesus," the girl said, the color draining from her face. She looked down at the carpet and saw the glass lying broken at her feet. It had smashed into the bottom of one of the panels of mirrored glass attached to the closet wall.
"What the fuck do you mean 'not often' then? Shit, you are a little liar you know that?"
The woman was glaring at Lureen with eyes full of jealousy and hatred. She had climbed onto her knees on her huge round bed and was angrily bouncing herself up and down as she cursed and spat and waved her fist at her girlfriend.
"I'm sorry," Lureen said, bending over to survey the damage, "but shit, Joanna, you introduced us, remember?"
"I'm trying to forget it."
"Don't take that queen of the world attitude with me, Sister," the black-haired girl snarled. She was used to Joanna Caufield's act by now. The woman had a terrible temper, but she was also capable of faking it wildly.
But even now, as Lureen stared back at her, she wasn't sure which one she was being just now.
Joanna hauled herself off the bed and rushed toward her friend.
"I'll show you attitude," she screamed, racing for her neck.
She grabbed the girl by the front of the leather camisole and yanked her rudely down so hard she lost her balance and fell on the carpet. In a flash, Joanna was on top of her, pounding her fists on her, pulling her hair, kicking, scratching and spitting on her.
"You have no gratitude whatsoever," the copper-haired woman shrieked. "Here I set you up in business, introduce you to all the best clients I have and you don't even appreciate it!"
"I do, too," the startled girl cried in halting gasps of air. "Joanna, you're choking me."
She grabbed the woman choking her around the wrists.
"I'll show you what a real dominatrix can do, you little upstart," she cried as she gritted her teeth and thumped her hips hard into the black-haired girl's torso.
"Shit, Joanna," the girl said, tossing her head wildly back and forth, trying to avoid the blows to her head Joanna was throwing with her feet.
Before she had time to tell what was happening, Lureen felt Joanna fly off her and saw her run to her dressing table counter. She pulled out bottle after bottle of cosmetic, cream lotion and pitched them toward her friend.
Lureen belly-crawled to the bed to avoid the missiles the woman was heaving at her.
"Stop it, Joanna," she said, like a school marm. Her attitude cut no ice with the irate woman whatsoever.
"Lousy little dyke," Joanna screamed, "I'll show you who's the one to beat around here. I'm the best. Do you hear me? I'm the best dominatrix on the east coast. You're nothing but shit. Shit!!!!!"
She shot one bottle after the next across the room aiming them every which way. Their contents spilled out, or they broke once they hit the floor, the mirrors or the wall.
"Aha!!!!" Joanna seethed as she put her hand on a huge glass bottle with a rounded dome. "I know what you want."
She brandished the bottle in her hand and crept toward the bed. "You want to get fucked, don't you? All lousy little dykes like to get fucked. Of course, they wouldn't admit it, but they do."
"How do you know?" came a small, tight little voice from behind the bed.
"Slovenly bitch!" Joanna bellowed, "you have the nerve to come over here and put on my clothes and tell me where to get off?"
"Calm down, Joanna," Lureen said, "remember your blood pressure."
It wasn't very convincing. Lureen wasn't sure she had any blood pressure. The woman had ice water in her veins, anyway. She wasn't human.
Oh, once she had been in love with her. It was a long time ago, but she had cared about her She was so beautiful in the old days. So vulnerable and fresh looking. And her hair was a natural copper, too. Even though she tinted it slightly now, she didn't used to.
Lureen had been a singer at a dyke bar. It was a living. She also doubled as waitress a bit. And one night, she served the tired dominatrix a drink and a sandwich.
They got to talking and Joanna seemed to like her. She was a bright woman. Sound, intelligent, creative and she said she had her own business.
Lureen was surprised to find that she was a dominatrix. That first night she took her home, she beat the shit out of her.
And Lureen had loved it. Partly because it excited her wilder, darker nature and partly because the woman was so fucking good at it. Believable Authentic.
In short, they had had a hell of a time together. Screwed each others' brains out. And continued to do so for a long time.
But Lureen had taken well to the joys of dominant sex and she wanted to try it herself. She had been the passive one in the beginning and she had liked being that well enough.
Only she wanted more now. She wanted to take over and do a little jaw breaking herself. Only she found out there wasn't room for more than one dominatrix.
So, eventually, Lureen had to split and go on her own.
But without much money in her pocket, she needed someone to help her and that turned out to be her girlfriend, Joanna.
The girlfriend who was now pummeling bottles at her and running toward her with a very phallic shaped one in her hand.
"You lousy twat!" the woman shrieked again and again, "I'll show you who's in charge here."
She grabbed the girl by the hair, pulling it down out of its thick little swirl that rested on the crown of her head. She yanked it so hard, the girl's head flew back at a distorted angle.
"Cut it out, Jo," she said, trying to move, but unable to do so since she didn't want to get the hair ripped out of her head.
"Cut it out, my ass," the woman brayed, "you think you're such hot stuff. Well, you ain't shit 'ya hear me? You ain't fucking shit."
The woman flipped the lithe little frame of the girl over her knee and sat down on the bed. She ripped the soft suede panties off her ass and swatted her head with one hand and her ass with the other.
"Stop that, Joanna," the girl cried, "I'm not in the mood."
"Not in the fucking mood, are we?" Joanna mocked angrily.
"Please," Lureen begged, "let me go, Honey, I've got a client coming over in less than a hour."
"Mike Rivers?" Joanna hissed, bringing her hand down again across the girl's backside. She hit her so hard the woman saw a red palm print where she had slapped. "Or Steve Lurie?"
Joanna knew she was fuming with the flames of rage, but she was unable to put them out. She didn't remember being this angry in a long time. The girl was goading her into it. Making her whip her ass like this. And that infuriated her more. Well, she would show her who was still the head honcho around here.
She dug her hand into the black-haired girl's ass crevice and scoured it around, stabbing her fingernail in the girl's anus as she did so.
"Hurting you?" Joanna shouted, "my, my, my. Isn't that what you wanted? You lousy little cunt."
"No," Lureen called to her girlfriend, "I didn't come over for ... "
Lureen bit her lower lip as a sharp bolt of pain stung her anus. Her ass flesh felt like it was on fire from the severe thrashing the woman was administering to it.
"You can't do this ... " Lureen begged, tears flowing from her eyes, "I'm the dominatrix now. You can't be, too."
"What the hell are you saying?" Joanna seethed, lowering her head down to the girl's face and glaring into her eyes. "You twat. I was queen of this show before you even came on the scene. I taught you everything you know. And now I'm gonna see that you don't forget it."
"Jo ... " the girl cried.
Then, she felt a huge object thud against her ass flesh. That bottle of cream. That huge glass penis-shaped object. Lureen was panic-stricken. She couldn't believe that the woman would be so crazy as to use that thing up her ass. Yet she felt the incredibly huge hardness jutting even now against her tight pink ass sphincter.
"Oh, God, Jo," she called, "No!!!!!"
The six foot redhead stuffed the head of the obscenely long bottle down into the girl's ass hole and skewered it around.
"That ought to hold you for a moment," she said.
She flipped the girl onto the bed, face down and heard her cries of protest even as she nailed her to the bedspread with one knee artfully placed in her ass valley.
"Stay, boy," she commanded, harshly. "I order you."
Lureen tried to squirm out of the girl's hard, vengeful hold but found it difficult to move anywhere.
"No, no," she called, unable to do much other than protest at this point.
"You should have thought of me before, Lureen," the dominant woman snarled down at her, "you really should have."
She shoved the knob of her knee hard down into the girl's ass and felt the big bottle bite into her asshole. As it sunk in, she leaned down and whispered into her captor's ear. "Don't fuck with me, Chickie. If you move one muscle I'll shove this thing so far in you, you'll need tweezers to pick it out."
"Oh, no, Jo," the girl muttered, not daring to do other what the bitch behind her commanded.
Completely in control of her subject now, the tall Amazon woman began slapping the girl across the fanny. She swiped once, twice, three times, moving her hand first from left to right, then from right to left.
She was enjoying the sensations thoroughly. In fact, so much so, that she began to feel all hot and bothered under her housecoat.
She whipped it off and stood nude except for her garter belt and sheer black nylon panties and high heeled slippers. From the side of her vision, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. It was a wicked, hot little sight. Her standing there, shoving the bottle in her ex-lover's ass as she beat her across the red and bruised buttocks with her hard, punishing hand.
"Oh, please, Jo, have a heart," the woman wailed.
"Oh, shut up, Lureen," Joanna shot back. She moved her knee from left to right in opposition to her slapping hand.
Then, she moved her knee around in hot, punishing erotic circles, making the girl bite the bedspread in pain.
"I can't take it ... " Lureen's voice fell off. She let the tears of rage and indignation and humiliation fall as they would and tried to concentrate on something else. But it was impossible.
It was also impossible to deny that she was hot. Her nipples were thrusting up like the tips of twin icebergs. Her cunt throbbed with the aching of arousal. And her ass was juicing so much, she couldn't tell if the woman had used lubricant or not.
Joanna shoved the ass dildo in and out of the girl's bung hole with her knee. She worked the thing rapidly in and out. Out and in.
And she felt so damned hot, as she spanked the girl's rear end, she looked around for something to diddle herself with. She saw the protruding butt end of the bottle sticking out of Lureen's anus.
That would have to do. She climbed up eagerly onto the girl's back and stuck her cunt down on top of the base of the glass bottle. She spread her cunt lips out wide and matched her clit to the end of it.
She rotated her hips around hotly, greasing her clit up with the oils of her own arousal and the sweat of the girl's butt.
"Shit, Jo, get off of me," the girl wailed, tossing her streaming black hair around. "I can't take anybody riding me."
"And I can't take the way you've been riding me for the last hour ... Shit!!! For the last two and a half years."
Joanna straddled the girl's ass with her strong inner-thighs and pulled them in tightly. She grabbed onto one of the girl's lustrous black locks of hair and used it for a rein. She rode her down to a rapid, grinding fuck.
"Oh, no," Lureen cried, "please."
But she was hot. She couldn't deny it. The woman always affected her like that. Joanna was the hottest, most exciting dominatrix she had ever known. Far more than herself. And right now the bitch was proving it. At her expense.
"You little slut!" Joanna cried, thrashing her hips up and down and pulling Joanna's head back by the hair. "I m gonna ride you till you bleed."
"Ohhhhhh," Lureen let out a long painful sigh.
The woman had her all right. She had her right where she wanted her. She was riding her like a fucking bronco buster. She didn't have a chance. She couldn't even try to buck her hips up and throw her rider. She would only be penalized by having that wicked glass dildo shoved further up her ass. She knew she couldn't take too much more of that action.
But she got hotter and hotter, being humped like that. The thing was pressing into her anus, splaying back the hot, pink membranes of her bung on all sides and rubbing her to a fantastic height of arousal.
She begged Joanna to let her go. But the harder she begged, the more the woman punished.
Finally, Lureen began to relax a little and enjoy the fucking she was getting up the ass. And she noticed that Joanna had begun to relax a bit, too.
"Oooooh," she heard the dominatrix cry between her teeth.
Joanna felt the thick end of the bottle against her clit. She had rubbed it so hard it glistened and popped up bigger than a man's thumb. She felt herself rise up off the bed in a startling, rushing climax.
She felt her cunt lips throb and clang together as she spent herself in mid-air and came crashing down onto the bed, next to her prey.
Lureen felt her own hips convulse from the pressure in her bung hole. Her poop chute throbbed with pain so hard, it actually vibrated all the way to her clit.
"Yikes!" she let out as she spun off the handle into the arms of an all-embracing come. The rush was wild and hot and painful and complete.
"Ow, ow, ow," she cried as the woman yanked the glass dildo stick out of her bung. It felt like she was getting raped in the butt all over again.
Joanna breathed heavy as she hauled herself off the bed and grabbed her house coat. She wrapped her body up in it and tossed the offending glass bottle into the waste paper basket.
"You cunt!" Lureen said, wiping a tear from her eye.
"Who, me?" Joanna said, blinking her eyes like an innocent girl
She let out a little chuckle and rolled over to be nearer to Lureen.
They cuddled.
"I got you pretty hot, didn't I?" she said, playfully slapping the girl's reddened butt cheeks.
"You always do," Lureen giggled. "But now my ass is so hot I could use it to start a fire."
"Your ass cheeks look like a fire," Joanna said, "I better get Tim to bring us some ice."
"I've got a drink around here," Lureen said, rolling over and searching the tray, "or was that the one you threw? You ham, you."
"I'll get him to bring us some fresh drinks, too."
Joanna walked over to the bed and picked up the little intercom headset.
"Tim," she instructed, light heartedly, "bring us some ice, will you? Also, a couple more martinis. Be a good guy and hurry."
"Shit you pack a wallop, woman," Lureen said, edging her way up onto her left side. She knew she wouldn't be able to sit up until the swelling on her buttocks went down.
"So they say," Joanna said.
"You are the best, you really are."
"When I'm inspired," Joanna replied.
"But I don't like the way you're hitting the sauce, lately," Lureen said, reaching for the empty glass on her girlfriend's tray. "What's the matter, love life not so good?"
"Oh, tell me about my love life," the woman said, sinking back onto the bed and crossing her arms over her heaving bosom. "What love life?"
"All work and no play ... " Lureen began.
"Makes me a dull dominatrix," Joanna finished.
They heard a knocking at the door and Joanna jumped up to answer it.
"Here, Tim," she said, ordering him to bring the ice pack and the tray to her. "I'll take that."
The boy smiled politely and left.
"He's a good kid, but I don't suppose he's much company. Him being so young." Lureen grabbed the ice pack from the woman and slapped it on her rear end with a little yell.
"Oh, he's good enough," Joanna said, "if anybody is, he'll do."
"Joanna," the dark-haired girl said, opening her serious brown eyes wide and adjusting her hair back over her shoulders. It had gotten quite wild in the melee. "I wonder if you aren't a little lonely here. You work so hard. And I know you don't date much."
"What's the point?" Joanna replied, "All the guys want to do is go out with me and try to get a free session. They think I'm in the business for charity or something? Do I look like a humanitarian to you?"
"No, Doll," the woman said, feeling her ass throb with dull, distant pain. "Only what's wrong with meeting someone legitimately."
"A straight you mean?" Joanna said, arching her thick eyebrows up and letting them drift down again. "No way. What would we have to talk about? I'm not a baseball fan."
"There's other things to talk about," the girl said, rubbing the thing slowly around on her rear end cheeks.
"I'm not a football fan, either."
"But you're a businesswoman. There are a lot of men out there who ... "
"Let's get one thing straight, okay, Lou?" Joanna said, starchly. "I'm not particularly interested in the type of men who would be interested in me. I don't know how else to explain it."
"All right," Lureen said finally, feeling slightly beaten in that area. "But what about your family? Do you ever get to spend time with them?"
"What family?" Joanna said, with a note of hostility and defiance, "all I got is my dead sister's kids. Two of them. They're cute kids, but I don't remember the last time I saw them Maybe four years ago, when she died. Or was it five?"
"Maybe you ought to try and see them again. You only got but one family, Jo."
"Who the hell are you being today, Florence Nightingale?"
"I just don't like you spending so much time here without any outside stimulation, Hon," Lureen said, emphatically. "I don't want you to isolate behind the gold doors and only see your clients. A working girl dries up if she does that."
"Fuck the family," Joanna said, bitterly, "who needs them?"
"You don't convince me with that hard exterior stuff," Lureen shot back, "this is Lureen, remember? Your oldest and dearest friend?"
"You're a cunt," Joanna said, playfully pulling on one of her girlfriend's long, full nipples. "That's all you are."
CHAPTER FOUR
"Hello, Aunt Joanna," the twinkle-eyed little blonde girl crooned as she opened the door. "Do come in."
Tish felt very grown up answering the door for her father. The housekeeper usually did the honors, but she had requested that she be able to tonight, since her only aunt was making an appearance.
"May I take your coat," Lance said, bobbing his thick mass of blonde hair around as he swooped the coat off the woman's shoulders.
"Thank you," Joanna said, trying to adjust the slit in her skirt. She hadn't thought much about that slit when she put the damned thing on, but suddenly, in this very straight house among these very straight people, it seemed like an arrow pointing right to her crotch.
She pulled her vest down over her blouse. Thank heavens Lureen had thought to loan it to her before she stepped out the door.
"You can't go with your tits poking out like that," her friend had warned her, "you're not going to a bordello. You're going to visit your family for shit sakes."
And she had insisted the woman wear a ridiculous pair of beige stockings attached to her garter belt. She even had to go out and buy some for the occasion. She could hardly remember the last time she wore beige stockings. It wasn't for the funeral. She was allowed to black, then, considering the circumstances.
"You'll do fine," Lureen said at last, waving her out the door.
The girl had agreed to sit in her apartment and take appointments should any of her clients need a punishment session immediately and be unable to wait until she got back.
And right now, she had no idea when that would be. The drive to the suburbs seemed to take forever. And that house! So scary. All done in greys and plaids and muted colors of camel, beige and taupe.
The dining room table was set already. And there were flowers in the center of it. In fact, there were fresh flowers all over the house. Some of them even smelled like her best room freshener.
"Joanna!!!" Paul Painter said, strolling into the foyer. "So glad you could be here."
"Were you surprised to get my call?" Joanna said, tilting her head to one side a bit. She had seen college graduates do that and she hoped it would work.
She noticed a tall, slender woman with very small tits standing in the doorway.
"Kendra," Paul called to his lady friend, "come in and meet my sister-in-law."
The woman walked toward Joanna like she had lead in her pants. She flicked one limp wrist down toward her while managing to stay at least four feet away.
"Delighted," the girl said, lowering her eyes condescendingly in Joanna's direction.
"Me, too," the woman said.
At least she was taller than this frozen ironing board. Well, she hadn't come here to see her anyway. Exactly. What had she come here for? The kids. Ah, yes. The adorable blonde cherubs who now sat on the footstool and smiled up at her.
Tish was busy looking the woman up and down. She was certainly a knockout. As pretty as her mother was. And she looked a lot like her. Only her mother had been a bit blonder as she remembered her.
But that was the same face that smiled out at her now. And the same long, tapering legs that seemed to go on and on forever. And the full, round tits that hugged against the vest she was wearing.
Lance stared up at the splendid-looking woman. She was a hot shit lady, all right. Nothing like Kendra. Very pretty, but bigger and better. Like a sexy lady from a cartoon. Li'l Abner or Dick Tracy. And those tits! He wished she hadn't worn that vest over her blouse.
But whenever she moved, he could see in between the slit in her skirt almost all the way up to her panties line. That was hot. A real rush in fact.
"Would you care for a drink before dinner?" Lance said, smiling in the most mature manner he could summon up.
"Oh," Joanna said, not knowing if he meant tea or hot chocolate "Maybe after."
"What's the matter Jo?" Paul said, escorting his lady love into the living room, "I recall you used to tipple a bit."
"Tipple?" Joanna said, trying not to crane her neck too hard.
"Drink, Aunt Jo," Tish said, pulling her skirt gently, "how about a martini?"
"Why not?" the woman said, smiling and letting young Lance take her by the arm.
She liked his grip. Nice and sturdy for one so young.
Dinner was a bland, rather slowed down activity. Joanna watched how Kendra held her knife in her right hand and her fork in her left and managed impossible feats with the two of them. Like picking up individual peas. She was even more awed at how many times the woman chewed one of those insipid little green balls. Twenty, thirty times. "Tell me," Kendra said, patting her mouth lightly with her linen napkin. She did that in between each bite, slowing the dinner down even more. "What do you do for a living. Paul tells me you're a career woman."
"I ... I'm ..." Joanna grabbed her water goblet and pulled it to her lips. She swallowed several gulps and noticed that Kendra was still watching her like a hawk. Maybe like a vulture.
* * *
"I'm a physical therapist," the woman said, setting her glass back down and trying to lick her lips daintily.
"Acupuncture," the woman snapped, "do you do that?"
"Well, I never actually punch anyone," Joanna said, smoothing her napkin into her lap. At least wrestling with that stupid square of linen gave her something to do.
"Ah, hah," Kendra said knowingly. She flashed a brief smile and picked up her knife and fork and went after another helpless pea.
"Isn't our aunt beautiful?" Tish said, smiling at the woman from across the table. "Just like Mommy was."
"What a nice thing to say," Joanna said, "you're a cute kid."
"Joanna," Kendra said, hesitatingly, "if you don't mind. Paul and I never refer to the children as 'kids', do we dear?"
"Oh," Paul said, wrinkling up his napkin and tossing it on his plate. "I suppose we try not to. We want to treat them like adults."
"What a great idea," Joanna said, winking lasciviously at Lance.
Kendra missed that, but the boy grinned back at her shyly and felt himself blush from ear to ear.
"Care for a liqueur?" Kendra said, sashaying around the sitting room.
"Sure," Joanna said, "I'll have another martini."
Kendra smiled pathetically at Joanna and called her order up to Paul behind the bar. Joanna didn't understand what she asked for. Something in Italian or Greek maybe. Her knowledge of both those languages was limited to sexual variations and oaths.
"Well," Paul said, after some more meaningless chit-chat, "I suppose it's time for you two to be in bed."
"Aw, Dad," Lance said, shaking his head and standing up. "Just a few more minutes."
"Please," the little blonde haired girl joined in.
"Nothing doing," the sharp-tongued bitch said, standing up and raising her hands into the air as though she were about to preach a sermon. "You both have school tomorrow. Aunt Joanna will come again. Won't you, Aunt Joanna?"
"Sure," Joanna said, smiling helplessly.
Actually, the thought hadn't occurred to her. But everyone seemed to want her.
"Kiss us goodnight, Aunt Jo," Tish said, snuggling up to her big, warm auntie.
Joanna looked up to find Lance's face practically buried in her backside. She bent over and grabbed his soft, fuzzy little chin between her fingers and pressed her lips against his. She gave him a long, lingering hot, wet kiss, swirling her tongue around and around inside his mouth.
"Wow!" the boy whispered, unable to believe his good luck. "That was great."
"Me, too," Tish said, pushing past the startled Paul and Kendra toward her aunt's outstretched arms.
Joanna bent over and planted her lips on Tish's sweet, pink ones. She gave her a hot, wet lingering big kiss, sticking her tongue inside the little girl's mouth and whooshing it around and around.
"Holy crow!" Tish said, backing off and reeling a bit.
"That will do, children," Kendra said, clapping her hands together and standing like a drill sergeant at arms. "Off to bed now."
Joanna blew the little ones kisses as they headed off up the stairs into their little bedrooms.
"Will you come up and kiss us goodnight later, Aunt ... " Lance hollered down almost as an afterthought.
"I don't think your auntie will be able to stay much longer," Kendra snapped quickly, cutting him off from finishing his request.
The three of them stood there a moment until they heard two doors slam shut.
"Children!" Kendra said, flopping into a chair and bouncing back up to sit correctly, with her two slender ankles pulled together and her knees swung properly to the right of the chair. "Don't ever have any."
"Oh, I wish I did," Joanna said, "they're wonderful."
"They are," Paul said, reaching for his favorite pipe from the pipe rack, "but I'm afraid these two are spoiled."
"Really?" Joanna said, her eyes widening. "I didn't find them spoiled. They were adorable."
"You don't have to live with them," Kendra said, in a shrill, complaining voice. "They'd drive you to drink."
Joanna eyed the woman suspiciously. What the hell was wrong with her. These were two very well-behaved kids. She'd seen grown men who acted more spoiled than they did. And grown women.
"Oh, their mother was quite strict," Paul said, "and they lack for a firmer hand now that she's gone."
"I try reasoning with them," Kendra said, as though the subject gave her a headache.
Joanna could see the sharp little bones of her chest jutting out as she wiped her forehead with her white handkerchief and flashed some diamonds on her fingers.
"Reasoning?" Joanna said, inclining her body forward. "What kind?"
"Well," Kendra replied, "I use logic. You know, like if they stay up late watching television on Saturday night, I make them get up early for Sunday school the next day."
That kind of logic escaped Joanna completely.
"Kendra tries," Paul jumped in suddenly, lighting his pipe and inhaling on it to get it going, "but she's not their mother. And I don't really have the time ... Christ, Jo, Kendra and I have been trying to get away on a holiday the last three years. But every time we even plan to get out of here, something comes up with one of them. They start to run a fever or come down with the fucking mumps. Excuse my French, but the whole thing's just getting a little out of hand."
"I'm sorry to hear they don't respond to your logic," Joanna said, unbuttoning the top of her vest, "did you ever try slapping them across the bare ass?"
The woman stared at her as though she had just assassinated the Pope.
"We don't believe in corporal punishment," Paul muttered into his pipe.
"Who's talking about corporals?" Joanna said, trying not to raise her voice. But these two people baffled her completely out of her wits.
"I could never raise a hand to them," Kendra snapped, haughtily, "it's against all my principles whatsoever."
"We try to be firm," Paul joined in, taking Kendra's hand and holding it tightly, "but we can't see striking them in cold blood."
"So barbaric!" Kendra said, shrugging her shoulders and releasing them as though there were a slug on the coffee table.
Joanna took a long, studied breath. These two were really in Nowhere City. How could they have escaped the facts of life for so long? She shook her head sadly, without realizing that she was doing so.
"Are you all right?" Paul said, with a tone of concern in his voice.
"I think so," Joanna replied, "but I'm starting to wonder about you two."
"Why so?" Paul said, sitting up a little straighter.
"Because you're out to lunch," Joanna said quietly. "Where did you get the idea that punishment Stone Age stuff? Some of the most refined and educated and polite men in the country go for it."
"How do you know that?" Kendra said, her voice rising to a mild shriek.
"Because I give it to them," Joanna said, letting that slit in her skirt fall where it may.
She hadn't intended to reveal so much about herself, but these people were pissing her off. What was wrong with them anyway? Did the suburbs blot out the thinking part of their heads or something?
"You do?" Kendra said, letting the lower part of her jaw drop open.
"I do," Joanna said, leaning back and gripping the arms of the easy chair. Well, it was all out in the open now. No more pretense.
"Fascinating," Paul said, sitting like a Sphinx and puffing his pipe.
"I hadn't intended to tell you so much about myself," Joanna said, "you know, on account of the kids. But I really don't like your attitude. Punishment isn't barbaric. At least not if it's done right."
"How does one do it right?" Kendra said, sitting up a little and regaining her composure slowly.
"How much time have I got?" Joanna asked, trying not to screw her face up too much.
"How much do you want?" Paul said eagerly. Kendra squeezed Paul's hand hotly. She had heard and read so much about this sort of thing. Imagine having someone in her boyfriend's own house that knew what she was doing.
Paul could almost feel his pecker take flight. He hadn't had a really good dominance session since his wife died. But she could sure lay into him with what it took. As long as she was alive, he never so much as looked at another woman. Didn't want to.
She was all he craved. All he wanted. And she could whip him to a frenzy anytime she chose.
"Do you have any extension cords, drapery ties, belts?" Joanna asked, glancing around the room.
"I'll bring those things in," Kendra volunteered, "I think I can put my hands on some."
"Anything else you need," Paul asked.
He stood up like a willing volunteer and came over to where Joanna was seated. "Well," she said, calmly, "you could take off that ridiculous jacket with the patches in the elbows. I thought you were supposed to be a rich man."
"That jacket cost ... " Kendra stopped herself mid-sentence. "Well, I don't see what Paul is wearing has to do with anything anyway."
"That's where you're wrong, Miss Pouty Mouth," Joanna barked back at her. "What you're wearing has a great deal to do with how effective the punishment is."
"How so?" Paul asked, growing hotter and harder by the second.
He was looking forward to this little episode with baited breath.
And a big boner.
"Well," Joanna said, "take what I've got on for instance."
Eyeing the voluptuous frame the woman had on her, Paul knew he would like to do just that.
"I do apologize about the nylons," she said, fitfully, "a friend of mine insisted I wear them. She said they would match the decor."
"Huh?" Kendra said, coming into the room with a stack of belts, cords, even a stout length of clothesline.
"But my garter belt and my other stuff is my usual mode of dress," she smiled. "See?"
She unbuttoned the vest quickly and then the blouse after it. She peeled both layers off at once and tossed them onto the sofa.
"Oh, my," Kendra said, sitting on the footstool and watching the proceedings.
The girl's tit mounds were sticking out like two melons packed in a fruit crate. Her waist was small and tight and her arms were incredibly muscular.
"Do you lift weights?" she said, looking at the woman's bulging biceps.
"Yeah," Joanna replied, stepping out of her tight skirt, "men."
She let out a loud laugh and found that the woman was joining in with her.
Kendra was laughing and watching the woman undress at the same time. It was quite a hot, little sight. Her hips were full and taut and rounded and her ass flared out neatly in the back just enough, not too much.
Her legs were well-stacked all right. And long. Incredibly long. They went on like a highway. An interstate. The beige nylons did look a bit out of place against the black satin garter belt and the silky sheer black panties. The black bra that hugged her delicious big tit mounds provided another striking contrast to her white creamy skin.
"Now this is a lot better than what you're wearing," Joanna snapped at Kendra.
The surprised woman glared back at her angrily, "what do you know about what I'm wearing?" the girl said, "it cost ... "
"Will you get your head out of your check book a minute?" Joanna brayed hotly with her eyes blazing, "I m not talking about how much it cost. I'm not even talking about your fucking dress. I'm talking about what you've got on under it."
"Designer underwear," Kendra shot back nearing a rage.
She was barely able to keep herself in check. This woman may have known something about punishment, but nothing about wardrobe. Especially brand names.
"Let me see," Joanna said, coming over to the woman and ripping her skirt up.
"Stop that," the woman said, flailing at her. It was like trying to hit a stone fence. It did absolutely no good to try and stop this woman. She was like a bull dozer with track shoes. Spiked track shoes.
She yanked the knit skirt higher and higher revealing a white slip, white panties and a white garter belt. The woman looked like a nurse up there.
"Lily white, what a fright," Joanna said, lowering thy girl's skirt in disgust. "I'm afraid you'll just have to take that insipid sick stuff off. It reminds me too much of my first communion."
"You disgusting ..." Kendra's words fell short of their goal.
The woman was wrestling her out of her clothes right now. Rudely pulling and snagging her best knit sweater dress.
"Stop it, stop it," she said as she felt a wad of knit being stuffed into her mouth. She tried to kick out, but the woman gripped her ankle when she did and knocked her to the carpet.
She pulled her suit off and threw it to one side of the room. Then, with her teeth, her fingernails, her high heels, she ripped, pulled, tore and chewed off every stitch of underwear the woman had on.
"That's better," Joanna said, staring at the naked woman. "But not much."
"Here, here," Paul said, jumping in to protest. He had had just about enough of this brazen hussy's insults to his girlfriend.
"Shut up, Toad," the woman snarled.
She gave him a karate chop to his left side and saw him keel over holding his ribs and letting out little hisses from his mouth.
"You are Mr. Disgusting," Joanna said, shoving the high heel of her shoe down on Kendra's kinky brown-haired cunt. "You've played the wimp all night long. I thought my sister married a man. Look what you turned out to be. A fucking toad."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Paul said, trying to fight for his normal breath.
The woman had given him a hard chop. She was a little bull all right. A charging little bull in a china shop.
"You let this batch of white cookie dough push you around?" Joanna screamed, pointing to the naked girl writhing under her boot heel. "You ain't fit for cat shit, Toad," she railed on.
"I do think ... " Paul began rushing toward Joanna with his arms spread out in peacemaker fashion.
She interrupted him with a hard right to the upper chest.
"I do think we've had about enough from you," she said, "and I'm gonna show you what I mean by that."
She backed off the frightened girl tossing and yelping on the carpet and turned her attention to Paul. She flipped him over her shoulder and turned to see him land face down on the sofa. Karate class had helped her a lot. A few more spills like that and she'd get her green belt yet.
"Fucking cretin, nerd!!!!" Joanna said, lunging at him.
She picked up one of the lengths of clothesline and tied his hands so fast he could hardly tell what had hit him. A tornado, he thought, judging from the way the girl tossed him onto the sofa.
"Hope we don't upset the upholstery," Joanna bellowed as she tucked the man's wrists in the clothesline tightly.
"Ow!!" he said, feeling the constriction around his wrists. "See here," he said trying to get the woman's attention and make her listen to reason.
But she was beyond reasoning with.
"Now, Joanna," Kendra said, scrambling up from the carpet and backing off a little from the action. From the sound of her voice she was backing off from any close involvement in her boyfriend's problems. She had problems of her own. Like trying to get away from this she-devil monster in their living room.
"Now, yourself," Joanna said, putting the finishing touches on the knot around Paul's wrists. "Looks like I'm gonna have to talk to you by hand. I think it's the only language you understand."
She grabbed the woman by her hair and twisted her full around so that she was facing her dead on. She held her hands behind her back and dragged her over to the dining room table kicking and screaming as she went.
"Would you watch it?" she shouted, the polished parquet floor burning her ass cheeks as the woman drew her caveman style across the room.
Joanna flung the woman over the dining room table, scattering various dessert dishes and upending the centerpiece.
She grabbed another length of the clothesline and bound her flat against it, her tits raised up to greet the chandelier overhead. She tied her legs out spread eagle and braced the clothesline ends around the table legs.
The woman was done up like a Christmas turkey. She wailed loudly and she beat her head against the dining room table in protest.
"Stop this, stop I say," Paul said, fighting to be heard from the living room sofa. "You have no right to come in here and ... "
"Shut up, Toad!" Joanna barked, "this is my last warning. One more outburst and I'll gag you."
"Do be quiet," Kendra said to him softly, "I think she means business."
Joanna grabbed a thick cowhide belt and beat it onto the floor several times to get the feel of it.
"Nice," she said, experimenting several times over.
"What are you going to do with that?" Kendra said, tears of indignation and fear raining down her cheeks.
"I'm gonna tan your fucking little smart ass hide with it " Joanna said, strolling over and lashing the thing into the air with a loud, impudent snap.
"Leave her alone," Paul said from the living room.
"Shut up," Joanna shot back, "you're next."
"Oh, God," Kendra said, wondering how she had ever let herself get into this position.
The woman was obviously a raving lunatic.
One who was holding a rather ugly weapon right now.
And from the look on her face as she crossed toward her, she fully intended to use it.
"You wouldn't ... " Kendra said, haughtily.
Joanna answered by cracking the thing in the air directly over Kendra's nose.
"Does that answer your question," she said calmly.
"If you so much as lay a hand on ... "
Kendra began her threat, but never completed it. She never heard the crack. But she felt the long, winding tether of the belt slam into her thigh. She felt the burning sensation on her flesh and the rising of the skin that had been broken in, in the path of the leather whip.
"Aaiiieeee!" she shouted, wildly tossing her head around. Her black hair was cascading in all directions.
"That's more like it," Joanna said, bringing her whip up and bringing it down again. She snapped it hard against the woman's other thigh, evening the score.
"Oh, no," Kendra screamed, "no, please."
"You can't do that to her," Paul shouted.
"All right," Joanna said, "I'll do it to you instead."
She paraded back into the living room and clenched the buckle end of the belt hard in her hand. So the guy was begging for a taste of it. Some men did that.
"Here," she said, "you can have your share. Don't fight."
She let a long whiplash out and as it uncoiled, both of them jumped to the snapping sound. It blasted Paul square in the stomach.
"Ow!!" he said, trying to hold onto what little dignity he had left.
"Don't you know how to talk to a lady?" Joanna said, flailing her whip down onto his side, his ribs, his shoulders. "Ladies like to be talked to politely. Not talked to like they was crumb cake."
"Please stop," Paul begged. "Think of ... think of Kendra."
"Yeah," Joanna said, pausing a moment. "I forgot about her."
She rushed back into the dining room and let the naked lady eat some more of the wrong end of the belt she brandished over her head.
Then, she ran back into the living room to study the effects it had on Paul. From where Paul was strapped in, he could see his girlfriend's cunt lips spread out like a pink accordion. He could see her hard-nosed nipples jutting into the air. And he could see the look of wild terror on her face.
The entire scene made him hot as a furnace. His cock was blasting away, chugging and beating toward his zipper.
"Hey," Joanna said, after feeding him another taste of her whip, "the nerd got a teensie weensie hard on."
Actually, from the look of it, it wasn't teensie weensie at all.
"Bet his little bitsy cockie doo is just aching to be let out for a walk around the yard."
"You bitch," Paul seethed. He was beginning to wish he could control his hard-ons a lot better. This one was making him feel like an absolute fool He was blushing. He hadn't blushed in years.
"Polly want his cock out?" Joanna mocked and teased him.
She reached up and unzipped his thick metal pants zipper in such a way as to allow Kendra a full view of what she was doing.
"Well well," Joanna brayed, hauling his huge pecker out of its shorts slit. "Look at the teenie weenie little cockie poo."
The king-size dick she was barely able to hold onto was by no means a small one. It was large. Bullet-shaped on the head. And it had a massive shaft with a firmly beating veins wrapped around it every which way. And his balls were nothing to sneeze at either. Huge, hairy orbs that throbbed deliciously and thudded against the base of his thick prick stick.
"Guess I'll just have to take you out for a walk," she said, kneeling down and getting a good look at it.
The deep slit in his dick knob was gushing with semen. The stuff was running down the shaft and circling it round and round, juicing up his pole to a thick, gleaming shaft that almost glowed in the living room light.
Joanna bent down and grabbed one of the drapery ties. She made a lasso and flung it around the man's hard pole. She pulled on it enough just to tighten it.
"Come on," she said, leading it from left to right and around and around in tight, erotic circles. "Let's go for a walk."
Paul felt the tight jerking around his fuck stick. The sudden, surprise of having his cock tackled by that velvety cord had been enough to make it throb double time. And now that she was pulling it all different directions, sliding the lasso up and down on it, made it throb faster still.
He held onto his breath. His dick had never beaten so fast. Or so intensely. And he had never had a bigger hard on in his life.
"Silly little cockie poo," Joanna said, "I bet you want to go into the doghouse now. Yeah. You want someplace to hide out, don't you?"
"Ooooooh," Kendra let out from the dining room table where she could lift her head only slightly and see the hot scene taking place there.
"Oh," Joanna said, in mock seriousness, "Sorry, little cock. Looks like the big evil bitch on the table wants some attention. You'll just have to walk yourself for a while."
With that she lifted the leash end of the drapery cord and stuck it in Paul's mouth. From the angle he was holding it and from the amount of tension in the cord, he could actually diddle his own dick that way.
It was a crazy, crude, but wholly erotic experience. One he never thought he would live to see in his life. One he had never even dreamed of.
"What are you going to do to me?" Kendra said, raising her head and eyeing the woman in a total rage.
"Depends on how hot your pussy is," Joanna said, reaching down and feeling inside one of the steamy, slippery layers of Kendra's cunt folds.
"Pretty hot." Joanna said, feeling around.
"Take your hands off me," the woman spat angrily.
"Sure thing," the dominatrix hissed, "I won't use my hands on you anymore I don't want to soil them."
With that, she leaned down and unzipped her high heel boot. She took it off and held it up for the woman to see.
"I'll use this instead," she said, simply.
"No, no, no!!!!!!" Kendra protested as she felt the steel tip of the woman's boot thud against her clit.
"Sure," Joanna said, "you'll love it."
She wound her stiletto heel into the woman's cunt and tapped her clit with the sole of her boot. "Look Ma, no hands!"
Joanna held her hands up and moved them back and forth. "You bitch." Paul roared, dropping the cord from his mouth.
"Me or her?" Joanna shouted back.
She strolled amiably into the living room.
"I think we've had about enough of this," she said, untying the knots at the man's feet slowly and deliberately. "I think I'm gonna let you go outside and play a while."
As the last knot slipped free of the man's wrists, Joanna grabbed the leash end of the cord and held it firm. Trussed up that way, Paul had no chance of running, fighting, even moving, unless he was coached to move a certain way by the woman who had him tied like that. He was just in too vulnerable a position.
Even before he had a chance to strike her, she was again binding his wrists. Trying to hit that woman was like trying to hit a humming bird. She wouldn't hold still long enough for him to find her.
Again, before he knew it, he was bound and being pulled along by his cock across the living room and toward the dining room table. The woman was walking him like a giant pull toy.
His girlfriend's cunt had never looked so appetizing, though. He had to admit. It was stuffed full of the bitch's stiletto heel and running with clear cunt honey to beat the band.
"Paul!!!!" Kendra said, holding her head up limply. She looked absolutely ravaged.
And he had never seen her looking so erotic or hot or inviting. His pecker stiffened still more when he caught sight of her.
"Looks like you like what you see," Joanna said, "your pecker does anyway. Your teensie weensie little cock pole is throbbing to get it on, isn't it?"
Paul wished to hell his hands were untied. He would like to slap her face.
"No," Paul said as the woman grabbed the reins around his pecker and pulled him closer to Kendra's outstretched cunt.
"Now you're going to get a chance to fuck like a man instead of a Toad," the woman teased.
"Oh, God!" Paul said, unable to stem the rush of blood that wouldn't stop flowing toward his dick head.
Joanna led him closer and closer, by yanking gently on the cord. His cock dome was blushing purple by now. And she could see her own boot moving in and out of Kendra's cunt just because it was throbbing so hard.
She led him flush up the front door of Kendra's hot, quivering pussy. And, in one quick gesture, she pulled the slimy heel of her boot out of the girl's cunt and stuck Paul's firm dick head in there instead.
"There's a nice place for the big toad to bury himself," Joanna seethed into Paul's ear as she led his cock into the girl's outstretched cunt slit, "in the mud."
She yanked the nun's prick inside the girl's pussy and pulled it out again. It was clear to the both of them who was in charge here. But the girl was by no means through. She hoisted herself up onto the table to join the party. She straddled the terrified, hot girl's waist and quickly peeled her panties down and kicked them off her booted foot. Then she stuck her hips full into the man's face.
She aimed her hot, huge pussy right into Paul's upturned face.
"Eat my cunt out, Toad!!!" she commanded stuffing her cunt full and hard into his mouth.
She held firmly to the man's dick by the cord around it, controlling his every movement. She jerked it in and out, out and in.
She banged her cunt against Paul's mouth and leaned her head down to chew on Kendra's hard, throbbing nipples.
"Nooooo!!!" the woman screamed, screwing up her face as the girl bit down into her tit flesh.
"Jeeeeeezus," Joanna shot back, "can't you take a little love bite?"
She ground her hips hard into Paul's face and felt his thick, full tongue shoot back onto her clit.
Paul had never felt so completely aroused in his life. He dug his tongue into his mistress's cunt and swirled it around and around. He tasted the insides of her hot, sweet twat as his tongue took over on its own accord and flicked over and over and under and around her clit and then in and out of her pussy chamber
At the same time, he forced his hips toward the bound up Kendra each time Joanna pulled on the string. It was odd, having another woman fuck his girlfriend with his own cock. But that was what was happening.
"Come on," Joanna shouted to him as though he were a horse and she was his mount, "let's get going there."
She pulled his dick in hard and then out harder. She wound the string around and around, making him bounce in eager, hot circles, whirling his thick, hot cock around and around in the girl's cunt like a giant wooden spoon in a pot of boiling fudge.
Kendra felt the thick cock knob penetrate her cunt. But each time her pussy would try to nab it and hold onto it a moment, sucking its full energy into her own hot cunt, the woman would dart the string back and Paul would be forced to pull his dick from her.
It was a supreme tease. She was getting hot enough to fry an egg on. She had never felt so hot or horny or fully aroused in her life. The woman chewing her nipples was making her wild with pain and passion.
Joanna yanked her cunt off Paul's mouth and swiveled her hips around so that her cunt was astride Kendra's face. She stuffed herself full in the girl's mouth.
"Lick me, you little white bitch!" she hollered down to her.
The girl obediently stuck her tongue out. She wasn't in much of a position to resist her mistress. She dicked her long, syrupy tongue in and out of the woman's hot, tight cunt slit.
Joanna pulled the delirious little string around Paul's cock in and out.
Faster and faster.
Harder and harder.
She watched it grow firm and slimy with the juices of Kendra's thick, pulsating cunt.
"That's it," she hollered, "fuck that bitch like your mistress commands you to. Come on, now."
She pulled his dick in and out so fast she could barely see it. And that rapid in and out action coupled with the sweet licking she was getting from the spoiled debutante's tongue was making her nearly cream with delight.
Paul, too, was beginning to feel the effects of the workout his thick man cock was getting. He felt rolls of sweat cover his forehead and face. He felt his knees turn to rubber. He let his head fall back a moment and felt his balls fill with the full rush of his cock come.
He let go a blast of hot, thick cream that shot down his pecker shoot and sprang from the deep dick slit in his huge, thrusting knob.
"Owwwww!!!!" he said as the hot blast ripped into Kendra's cunt.
She had never felt him shoot so strong. The come was jet propelled. It filled her cunt and splashed all over inside her, causing her in turn to spill her own juices in a hurried, delicious rush of screaming, non-stop orgasm.
One after another after another. Her brain felt like it was on the ceiling. Her hips were grinding gears with the man's pecker shift. And the whole time she thrust her long, hot tongue in and out of the powerful woman's cunt who rode her now.
Joanna rode herself to a long, slow come. She felt it build to a big waterfall rush that sped down, down and over the edge of a cliff. She felt the free fall of ecstasy as she climaxed into oblivion
The blackness before her eyes turned into white light a moment and then back into the light of the dining room chandelier.
And when she looked up, she found that the two people she had dominated, were still raging on and on in their paroxysms of screaming, writhing comes.
Moments later, the room fell still.
Paul fought to regain some semblance of his natural breathing pattern. The hot sweat had turned chilly and his prick ached and ached.
It had never had such a workout. And it had never done such yeoman's duty, either.
Kendra wept softly. She had never been so aroused or heated up in her life. She had no idea sex could be like this. It had never been so before for her.
"Wow!" she said, as Joanna slipped off her face.
Joanna popped down and retrieved her boot and zippered her foot back into it. She got her panties from off the floor and stepped gracefully into them.
Then, she went for the rest of her clothes. She helped Paul out of his knots and slipped the cord off his dick easily.
He, in turn, helped Kendra off the dining room table. Joanna ran into their bedroom and brought the girl out a housecoat. Paul zippered his pants up smoothly and the three of them sat down to an after dinner coffee.
"That was something," Kendra said, a trifle indignant.
"You weren't too bad yourself, Honey," Joanna said, patting the girl on the round, hard rear end cheek.
"This discipline thing," Paul said, gesturing with his hand in a vague circle. "Do you think we could actually use it on the children?"
"Hmmmmm," Joanna said, weighing her words carefully, "in the right hands, yes."
"I don't know as I'd trust anybody's but yours," Paul said, "you are an expert."
"Thanks," Joanna agreed.
"Paul," Kendra started, "remember we said we wanted to take a vacation ... get away on a little holiday?"
"God, how many times I remember saying that!" the big man replied.
"What do you suppose Aunt Joanna would charge to look after the children?"
"Wait a minute," Joanna said, "if you think you can pay me to stay with those brats!"
"Sorry," Kendra said, not wishing to anger her She had seen the results of that act already.
"I'll do it for nothing," Joanna shot back. "After all they're my family. I don't want to see them running wild like they are. They could use a firm hand. I don't mind that it has to be mine."
"You sweet lady," Paul said, leaning over and giving his sister-in-law a kiss.
"Watch that sweet stuff." Joanna said back, "remember, I have a reputation to think of."
CHAPTER FIVE
"I don't want to watch that stupid old show," Tish said, standing up and slapping her hands down against her hips. "I've seen it a million times already. It's in its third re-run. I wanna watch The Godfrey Boys."
The little blonde girl tossed her golden locks around and stormed up the huge color console TV in her aunt's sitting room. She grabbed a hold of the knob and began to switch the dial.
"Sis!!!!" Lance shouted at her, "I turned the set on. Now sit down and watch my show or I'll pound your head in."
"You will not," Tish said, finding her favorite re-run show and leaving the dial there. "Or I'll punch you in the pee-pee."
"You spoiled brat," Lance shouted, rushing toward his sister. He pulled her cotton nightie up from the back and saw a flash of her delicious round hot moons.
"Leave me alone!!!" Tish yelled back at him.
"I saw your ass cheeks ... I saw your ass cheeks!!!!" Lance crowed in his sing song voice.
"You prick!" Tish yelled, bringing her knee up in the boy's crotch.
She missed her target by only a few inches, but she gave her brother a good shove anyway.
He glanced off the TV and went flying toward the door just as it flew open. Aunt Joanna was standing in it gripping the doorknob. The look on her face was one of heightened anger.
"What the fuck do you little cretins mean by disturbing me during my massage?"
"Sorry, Aunt Jo," Tish said, running up to her and trying to throw her arms around the woman, "Lance was trying to bully me."
"Nonsense," the woman said, throwing the girl's arms off of her and holding them tightly together, "A steam roller couldn't bully you. You're the toughest, most ill-mannered little brat I've ever laid my eyes on. Except when I look in the mirror."
The woman strolled to the center of the room and stared at Lance viciously.
"And what were you doing, pounding your carcass against my good oak door?"
"She threw me across the room," the blonde troublemaker lied. "She tried to knee me in the balls."
"You're too young to have any balls," Joanna said, reaching her hand down to the crotch of the boy's pajamas. "Just as I thought. You haven't got any."
Lance stared back at her with a distraught look crossing his brow. What was she trying to do? He knew perfectly well he had a set of balls on him. The biggest in the boys' locker room. So what was her game, anyhow?
"Please, Aunt Jo," Tish wailed, drying a make-believe tear from her eye, "We'll try to be good, only don't turn the TV ... "
The woman had already stepped up the huge color set and was turning the knob to the 'off' position.
"Off ... " the girl said, hopelessly.
"You seem to forget," the woman said, turning on both of them like the Wicked Queen in Snow White, "this is my house. You are my charges. At least until your father and Kendra get back. Now that you are in my house, you will do as I say. And that means, no TV unless I allow it. You two only fight over it. I cannot have my massage disturbed."
"We're sorry, Auntie," Lance said, in a high-pitched whine that sent shivers up Joanna's back. The boy really was a blonde brat.
"I wonder about that," Joanna returned, "If you'd try to behave yourself better, I might believe it."
With that she turned around and slammed the door shut behind her.
"What a bitch!" Lance said, feeling for his balls.
"We're been here four hours and already I miss home," Tish said, with a sigh. "Let's play Daddy and Kendra. You be Daddy."
"I've got a better idea," Lance said, "let's play Aunt Jo and Daddy and Kendra. Like what we saw them do on the dining room table last Saturday night."
"Good idea," Tish said, lifting the hem of her nightie and pulling it briskly over her head.
Lance had to stare at the sight that met his eyes. Every day his sister was developing a little more. It made him real hot to look at her now. She had the sweetest pair of upturned tits that filled out a bit more every hour And there was a sweet fringe of angel hair covering her cunt mound now. A transparent, curly little layer of stuff that allowed her pert, pink cunt lips to be seen under it still.
That made him even hotter.
So hot his pecker swelled, making it hard to take off his pajamas. But he did get them off.
"Look at your dickie," Tish said, pointing to the hard mass between his legs. "It looks like a salami."
More like a large wiener. But Tish was fond of giving the boy compliments. And it certainly looked appetizing either way.
"I don't understand why Aunt Jo said you didn't have any balls yet. You got two big enough to play baseball with."
"Thanks, Sis," Lance said, in a bragging voice. "I'm kind of proud of them."
"I want to be Aunt Jo," Tish said, looking around the sitting room for something to use as a whip. Lance's shoelaces didn't quite do the trick. Then, she spied the lamp cord. She pulled the plug end out of the wall socket and brandished it over her head.
"I'm Aunt Joanna and you're gonna pay for what you've done to my pussy!!!!" the girl said, hopping around the room.
She jumped up on her naked brother's back and her weight forced him to the ground. "Now," she yelled, "get on all fours and ride me around the room like a horsie ... giddyap!!!!"
She threw the extension cord around the boy's neck and pulled it back hard. Lance practically choked, but the more he resisted, the harder the girl yanked. He knew he had better do as she bade him.
The girl chucked her feet in the boy's ribs and egged him forward by pulling hard on the rein around his neck. She patted his firm, bare buttocks with the heel of her hand and told him to hurry.
Lance walked around the room on all fours as best he could. But he felt his wind being cut off and thought he might be turning blue.
"Good Horsie!!!!!" the girl said, kicking her heels into his ribs. Whenever they missed his ribs, she felt them slide into his tummy and thump against his huge, rock hard pecker knob.
"Come on, Horsie," she urged, kicking him in the butt with her hand, "I wanna go faster."
Lance had to do as he was told. And his dick being that hard didn't make it any easier.
"I ... I ... " he kept trying to tell her to ease up on the rein, but the words wouldn't come out of his tightly constricted throat.
Suddenly, the agitated little bratty blonde girl leapt off him and landed on the floor.
"Now sit up for some sugar. Horsie," she said, "come on."
Lance raised his body trying to act like a horse rearing up. Tish caught him by the neck and grabbed his ears, forcing his head down onto her pert, upturned tits.
"Lick the sugar cubes," she said to him, "come on lick them or I'll whip the horse manure out of you."
Lance obeyed his cowgirl mistress. He stuck his tongue out and diddled her sweet, hardening nipples with it. He felt his pecker throb and burn with pent-up shame and excitement.
"Now let's go down to the pasture," the girl said, forcing her horse's head down, down to the lips of her sweet, cherubic little cunt.
She forced her prey's head down on her plump pussy lips. "Suck me, Horsie," she ordered. "Come on and suck me."
Lance thrust his thick, boyish tongue out from between his lips. It gave him a man-size boner just licking her hot little clit like that. And he was trying to work his tongue like an animal. She was making him hot enough!
He was sweating profusely from being made to run around the room and now from being forced to suck on her He felt his face and neck burn with shame and arousal His hard dick knob was banging against his stomach. Then it was banging against mid-air. He felt hot and ready and beast-like. He felt like an animal
"You have to make me come, now," Tish whispered in his ear. "I want to come like Aunt Jo."
Lance twirled his tongue and lips around and around all over the surface of the little girl's eager, hot cunt lips. He found every nook and cranny of the multi-layers of her sweet, full young virginal cunt and sucked them as hard as he could.
"Gotta do it more," Tish said, "or I'll have to whip you."
"When's my turn?" the boy said, lifting his head up.
He was full of spittle and juices from her cunt. He looked like he had been bobbing for apples in greasy water.
"Oh, shit," Tish said, "you're not supposed to have a turn till I tell you."
"You're a big bitch just like your aunt," the boy said, "I don't want to eat you out all night if you're not gonna give me a turn."
"Eat you dumb animal!" the girl screamed, brandishing the electrical cord up in the air and striking the boy in the flesh.
She hadn't meant to hit him so hard but he was getting her angry. She saw the thick ribbon of red where she had hit him along his back and left buttock.
"You little fucker " her brother cried, "now I'm gonna make you suck me. Now, I'm gonna be Daddy and you're gonna be Kendra. I'm gonna make you suck me."
"No, no, no," the startled girl cried, as her brother grabbed the electrical cord from her hand.
He grabbed her by the waist and threw the cord around her shoulders. He wrapped it around and around her body, on either side of her tits, making them jut out at even more of an extreme angle than they did normally. He tied her tightly around the pussy, leaving a little opening so he could do whatever he wanted to with her, in case he felt like it.
"Now you have to suck my big dick," the boy said, grabbing his hard tool by the knob and twirling it around eagerly.
"Oh, yes," he said, kicking his sister in the butt so hard she flew onto the divan, "you gotta suck me like I say."
"No, no," the girl started, making tears flow down her cheeks. She was good at making tears flow down her cheeks.
Lance found the little girl's head and lifted it up by holding a handful of her curly blonde hair. He twisted her neck far back the way he had seen Joanna do that night in his living room. And he let the girl's mouth come down on the tip of his pounding big pecker knob.
Tish started to shout but her noises were cut off by the thick dome in her mouth. He was choking her with that obscenely big dick stick of his. She tried to spit it out of her mouth, but he slapped her across her smooth, round, childish full buttocks when she did.
She felt the hard, slick head pop into her mouth, cutting off her voice and part of her breathing. She felt the smooth rod follow it down her throat heading for her tonsils.
"Arrgggghhhh!" she said, twisting her head, only to have it pulled back from where it came.
There was no escaping her brother's hard hand. He was out to have his will with her and she would have to do what he said.
She felt his pulsating pecker wood dominate her entire throat. It thudded and crammed and rammed down her mouth, swishing around, juicing up her throat even more than it had been by just sticking in and out of it.
In and out the boy pulled and pushed his man-size cock pole. It was a very tight fit in that little girl's throat, but it felt hot and wet having it down there and making it drill her like that, against her will.
"Suck my dick, Sis," the boy chided her.
"Put that pole down your throat and chew on it."
"Eat my pecker. Bitch!" he snarled.
Tish let the thing into her mouth a bit more. It was too hard to fight it. It felt full and long and extremely hard beating down there. She licked the tip and coaxed some hot, clear semen out of the tip.
She swirled her tongue around and around the shaft heating the dick stick up to the boiling point.
Lance felt a gripping, then a releasing sensation in his guts. It popped up into his hard throbbing balls and filled them, then emptied them. It ran down, down the hot trail of his dick and flew out the end in a huge hard rush.
"Oh, oh, oh," he said, whamming his hips against his sister's face.
He shot a hard load of young man semen and sperm out his dick slit and down, down the path of the little girl's constricting, hot throat.
He rammed his log this way and that, trying to get the maximum benefit out of shooting down her mouth. He felt very grown-up all of a sudden.
Tish felt herself coming all over her body all at once She couldn't tell why, exactly, except that Lance had his hips against her mouth, his dick down her throat and his fingers in her pussy.
That seemed to be enough of a combination to get her to come. She hauled her hips up, up, up in a peak of arousal and let them come crashing down onto her brother's probing fingers. Onto his whole fist.
"Arrrggghhhh!" she cried out, still holding fast to his slick, hard man cock that he held tightly in her mouth.
"Well, isn't that just ducky?" a loud, husky voice boomed from the doorway.
The two surprised participants in the little sex play looked up to see their six foot aunt leaning casually against the door jamb.
"My own niece and her own brother, my own nephew," she said, bringing her heavily-perfumed cigarette to her lips and inhaling deeply.
Lance pulled his pecker so hard out of his sister's cunt he almost ripped the damned thing off.
Tish slumped to the floor in an attempt to hide her nudity from her aunt, who had already had a ringside view of it by now.
"Can you believe it?" Aunt Jo said, "the two of you playing grown-up like that? I can't imagine where you even got the idea."
"From watching you and ... " Tish began, but a look from her brother silenced her in short order.
"What did you say?" Joanna boomed in her husky, sexed-up voice "what the fuck did I hear rolling out of that little mouth of yours?"
"I said," Tish began again, "we were only playing horsie."
"Cowboys and Indians, too," Lance added sheepishly, "I was trying to tie Tish up."
"I think you succeeded," Joanna brayed.
"We just like to play games, Aunt Jo," Lance said, "honest."
"So I see," Joanna said, "but I don't think you know how to play them quite authentically enough. I think I shall have to teach you a few things about playing games. About behaving yourself, too."
"We'll behave, Aunt Jo," Tish said, trying to sound convincing. "Honest we will."
"Like you did just now?" the woman barked, "I asked you to shut up a half hour ago and I told you that you were interrupting my massage. And what do I get for it?"
Tish and Lance stared at their aunt who had completely taken over the room now.
"Grief and agony," the woman shouted, throwing her fists up in the air, "fucking heartache. You are two lousy little kids. I don't know what the hell I'm going to do with you. You can't even keep your pajamas on."
She flew into a rage and practically knocked Lance down trying to get at Tish.
"What the hell is this?" she cried, picking up an end of the extension cord that Lance had tied around the girl's little, lithe body. "What the fuck is this anyway? My good extension cord!!!! My best electrical equipment and you go around abusing it!!! What the fuck kind of gratitude do you call this?"
"We're sorry, Aunt Joanna," Lance said, trying to rush over and comfort her He patted her on the shoulder.
"We've got to put a stop to this right now," the woman said, "you two are coming shopping with me, immediately."
"But Aunt Jo," Tish piped up, "it's nighttime, there aren't any stores open."
"You fucking little suburbanites don't know anything do you?"
"How can we go, Aunt Jo," Lance said, trying to calm his hysterical auntie, "we're naked."
"Untie that little blonde bitch and get your clothes on," the woman shouted, in a storm of anger and undeniable rage.
The two of them shook they were so frightened. They had never seen her like this. She wasn't exactly an ordinary sort of person even when she whispered, but she was shouting the rooftop off.
Tish looked around the room expecting to see Tim come running in to find out what was going on in there.
Lance couldn't believe he could still hear after the woman grew silent. She had been breaking his ear drums with her wild shouts of unbridled hostility.
"Get your fucking clothes on!!!!" the woman started in again. "We're going to the store!!!!!"
Lance untied his sister as best he could. It was hard. He fumbled with the electrical cord, but kept trying. He was afraid of what his aunt would do if he disobeyed her in any way.
Together, the two of them hustled their clothes on and met their aunt in the foyer of the apartment.
She was standing there dressed in her night-clothes with a black cape thrown around her shoulders.
"Where are we going?" Tish said, timidly.
"Rose's Garden," the woman said, "it's an all-night deli."
"But it's late, Aunt Jo," Lance said, "we're supposed to be in bed."
"I'll decide that," the woman shouted.
And then, surprising them both, she pulled her cape open and held up two black leather dog collars with metal spikes. Both of them were attached with a length of leather leash.
"Put these on," the woman ordered. "Or I'll put them on for you. And I'm warning you," the woman leered into their faces, "I won't be as gentle as you would be "
Tish and Lance reluctantly took their collars and strapped themselves into them.
"Tighter!" Joanna roared, "put that thing around your neck tighter. I'm going to have to teach you how to dress, for Chrissakes!!!"
In a twinkling, the woman had the collars leashed and held firmly onto the reins.
"Now, I think we're ready," she said, leading the two charges out by their necks. "Are you ready, Tish?"
She pulled the collar over toward her and felt the girl fall a big, then scramble to her feet to avoid having her neck snapped. She came closer to her aunt and stared at her face.
"I asked if you were ready, Tish," the woman said, haughtily.
"Yes, Auntie " the girl said, throwing her eyes down at the linoleum.
"Yes, what Tish?" the woman said, regally.
"Yes, Auntie Joanna," the girl replied dutifully.
With that, her aunt unbolted the door, kicked it open and led the two dumbfounded charges down the hall and toward the elevator.
CHAPTER SIX
"You're not going to hurt me," Tish said, her eyes wide with fear "are you Aunt Jo?"
"Nonsense," the woman with the half dozen or so ropes, chains, braided whips and various and sundry other weapons of pain, humiliation and torture snapped back. "I'm only going to teach Lance here something."
"Something I think it best I learn, Sis," the boy said back.
Lance had caught on quite quickly. He had started to pick up what it was about his dear aunt that he should know about. The first and foremost thing was that she wanted to be obeyed.
To the letter.
Last night in the deli had proved that to him beyond a reasonable doubt. He had never been shopping with a collar around his neck before. And the woman in charge of them both carried it off with such a regal air and such aplomb that nobody even questioned her right to have them there like that, all done up in dog collars with leather leashes attached.
Tish, too, had begun to see the light. Her aunt was a fussy one. She wanted everything done to the letter. She reminded her of her own mother. She had always liked things done a certain way. And here was this redhead look alike now who demanded even a stricter standard.
Joanna held two long lengths of coiled up rope. A strange gleam had entered her eyes, a coloring that was not there before.
"Sit up," Joanna commanded Tish.
Tish sat up and looked around. It was the first time the two of them had been allowed in the dungeon. The place was unique. She had never seen anything like it except in the old Peter Gushing movies she had seen on late night TV. But she had a feeling those late night TV days were over now that Aunt Joanna had come into their lives.
Joanna tied the girl's elbows together, wrapping the rope around and around her upper arms and then tying a long length to her wrists.
This, she passed between the girl's legs, pulling the rope tightly right up through her pussy.
She pulled it hard, really hard, hurting her clitoris and Tish cried out in pain a moment.
"Better than a sloppy old electrical cord any day, huh?" Aunt Jo said proudly.
Lance had to admire her work. He looked at his aunt, still without flinching. He was trying to get used to this. It might take some doing, but he was bound and determined to get it right.
He didn't want to end up on the receiving end of that rope. Better that little Tish did than he.
Joanna pulled the rope in more tightly.
Tish was starting to get scared. It was just beginning to hurt harder than was really comfy.
Joanna tied the loose end of the rope that had been passed through her pussy around her neck, pulling so tight her arms felt like they might be going to be jerked out of their sockets.
When she spoke, Joanna stared at her oddly.
"You won't really hurt me, will you Auntie?"
'Keep your mouth shut," the woman snapped.
"But ... I ... "
Joanna cut her words off with a sharp, hard slap bringing the flat part of her hand down directly across her already strained cunt.
Her body jerked and the rope bit a bit more into her flesh. Like a blade it dug into her neck.
"Be sure not to let her say a word unless you order her to," Joanna barked to Lance.
The boy nodded silently.
She tied the final knot that froze her arms and hands into immobility, but as she stood up and walked to her pile of weaponry, she turned around to survey her work and saw that the girl still had walking power.
Of course, if she did try to escape, there would be no place to run. The house was thoroughly bugged and Tim was standing guard at the door now anyway, just as she had ordered him to.
Joanna picked up a small cat o' nine tails. She held it up and brandished it a moment in the air.
It was the most convincing thing Lance had ever seen in his life. Tish, too.
Neither of them could take their eyes off the woman's face. It was as if she were haunted.
"Come here Tish," the woman said dramatically.
Tish began to walk to her, robot-like steps as though she had no will of her own.
Closer and closer she came, the innocent maiden pulled relentlessly toward the eye of the villain.
Joanna slapped the ugly whip into her outstretched palm. When the girl was four feet from her, she uttered a single command.
"Stop!"
The girl froze.
"Stand up straight."
She did as she was told, as much as she could, considering the rope at her neck pulled her into a hunched over position. The rope passed evenly between each of her pert, upturned little breasts as it pulled harshly at the inner folds of her pink, hot little pussy.
"Don't move," the woman said, breathlessly.
The rope was really pinching her now. She saw herself being split into two by it, pulled apart and discarded. Like the two halves of an apple. Joanna picked up the other length of the rope.
It was thinner than the rope binding her wrists and neck.
She passed it through each leg, letting it bite into the flesh just outside the lips of her cunt so that the wet lips were literally squeezed between each strand of rope on the outside and the heavier cord cutting through the center.
It was a cunning device. Lance had to admire it. So did Tish. And if she hadn't been in so much fucking pain, she might really have appreciated it.
The woman pulled the rope up under her arms on each side down over each shoulder, crossing the strands directly beneath and in the middle of her breasts. Then she wrapped each large mound of flesh once at the base pulling the ring of rope tightly.
Each of Tish's sweet little perky breasts was squeezed unbearably tight by the rope at the base, biting into her like fire. Her breasts immediately turned a deeper shade of red, growing darker all the while.
She hadn't moved the whole time. She dared not.
She couldn't even have said what it was that kept her from resisting. But she felt as if she were being hypnotized.
But Lance had a pretty good idea why she was so obedient. He thought she might want it. That all the stuff they had gotten away with since their mother died had made them both pretty spoiled brats.
And Aunt Joanna had moved in, with their father's wishes, to straighten them both out about it.
There was a firm hand needed on them both. Well, maybe not quite so firm as the one Tish was getting now. But firm.
"On your knees," the woman ordered, her face flushed with regal hostility.
Tish knelt.
The woman forced her to spread her legs. She tied a rope around each ankle, pulling the outside of her body before passing the rope up over her to insure that the rope would keep her legs spread widely.
When she had finished with her, she was helpless. Totally and completely helpless. Her arms were fastened tightly. Her legs were spread-eagled open. Her pussy with a rope buried deeply in it was totally under her mistress's control.
And her breasts were pinched and squeezed like two oranges in a juicer.
Now Joanna paced the floor calmly, building the tension.
Lance eyed her with total attention. What the hell was she going to do now?
Joanna lashed her whip out and made contact with the girl's breasts. It was a soft whip strike, actually, the thing scarcely touching her.
Then, the woman let the tips of the whip drift over the girl's body, gently tickling her breasts, her nipples, her back, her stomach.
The tension in the dungeon was so thick, you could stir it.
The girl started to moan from the pain in her breasts, her cunt, all over her body. And each time the woman would whip her, she would jerk a bit, involuntarily, making the pain even more overall
Joanna reached into the pile of goodies and pulled out a long, scarf. Then, she plucked out a rubber ball.
Using the rubber ball as a mouth plug she stuffed it into the helpless girl's face, screwing it around and around to make it fit securely into her oral hole.
Then, without turning, she brought the whip across her breasts, striking the nipples of both at exactly the same time.
The girl shuddered.
She let out a muffled shriek of agony and tensed herself for more blows. They came with rapid force.
Again and again, the woman brought her whip across the sweet child's tightly bound up flesh. She raised welts at every point along the areas of exposed flesh.
Faster now, moving around behind her, whipping her on every bit of exposed skin, she pushed her body further and further past its limits of pain and shame.
The pain was melting Tish's brain. Reducing her to the crazies.
She wanted to scream, but no scream would escape her lips. She wanted to cry, but the pain was so sudden and severe that even that reflex had been short-circuited.
Again and again the wild aunt lashed her, turning her entire body into a single loud welt of pain and hurt indignation.
Then, the woman began to swing upward into her pussy, already painfully abused by the tight rope that bound it.
Tish felt quite surprised that she was able to stay awake for all this. And she felt sorry that she had been such a brat, not allowing her brother to watch his favorite TV show, even if it was in re-runs.
"Aunt Jo!!!!" Lance said, at last, "how do you?"
"I did not give you permission to speak, Slave," she snapped. "Silence!"
Tish was nearly rabid with fear, panic ... she felt herself coming up onto a vast ledge, a ledge over a clean blue expanse of nothingness ... pure and simple.
The woman kept pushing her toward the ledge with every savage stroke.
Slicing through the air the whip came down again and again over the girl's head.
Tish felt like she was losing her fucking mind. How could this woman do this to her? And how could that taffy-brained brother of hers take it, too. She could hardly wait until it was his turn. Boy, she would save some real hot cheers for when he got his licking
The pain seared her savagely. It burnt back to her brain and knocked out half her consciousness. With what little will and power she had left, she spat the rubber ball out of her mouth and pleaded, "please, please, no more, please Aunt Jo ... no more!!!"
Her pleas fell on deaf ears. The woman aimed her whip squarely down on her shoulders, her breasts, her exposed pussy.
The woman was out of control. And Tish was completely in her hands now. The girl fell on her knees, threw her head down at her aunt's feet. Kissed the shiny black glow of her boots.
Licked, slurped, drooled all over the woman's high-heeled boot polish. Gurgled onto her foot, her ankle, her mesh black stockings.
Her whole body was screaming with pain. She wanted out, out, out.
"Aunt Jo," the girl cried, desperately, "I'll be good, I promise."
She pressed her cheek against her mistress's leg flesh. She rubbed the warmth of the woman's legs back and forth across her bruised and burning cheek.
"I'll never, ever disobey you ever, I swear it."
"That's better," Joanna said, with only a slight show of emotion. "I knew you would come around to my way of seeing things."
"Is it Lance's turn now?" the girl begged, letting the tears of relief and joy flood her eyes.
"Yes," the woman said, twisting her face around and eyeing the boy in the corner. He looked like a sinking rat.
"Aunt Jo," he said, trying to sound like a man, "you know how much I'd like to, but ... but ... "
"Yes," the woman said, stroking Tish's messed-up head of hair.
"Well that's kid stuff, isn't it?" the boy said, trying to sound nonchalant.
He didn't feel nonchalant. The red welts on Tish's body didn't look nonchalant. But he didn't want any part of those welts. He was just a visitor here wasn't he?
"Honest Aunt Jo," he said, backing up toward the door, "I d sure like to, but ... well, you know how it is. I gotta start school in the fall. How would it look if I showed up with welts ... I mean who wants somebody sitting in front of them in Math class with big hickies on the back of their neck. Not me ..."
Lance edged his way cautiously over toward the door. He moved like a cat. Or like he had seen big cats move After all, his aunt was still holding the whip.
He felt a lot like a big cat in the animal act at the circus. He hoped he wouldn't end up as a rug.
"You'll leave when I fucking well tell you to go," the big woman brayed. "Now get your ass over here and untie your sister."
She cracked her whip so close to the boy's nose he smelled leather.
He rushed to his sister's side and began fumbling with the ropes that bound her in. Tish felt a great sense of relief, being allowed out of the bondage that had held her so rigidly for the last half hour.
But she had no idea how she was going to make those red marks go down. Just then, she saw Joanna ring a little buzzer and Tim strolled in with a huge bucket full of ice some towels, an ice bag.
He slowly began rubbing the ice bag over her tired and swollen body. It felt good. She decided that maybe, considering how hot and cute this Tim guy was, maybe discipline wasn't too bad after all.
It sure felt good when it was over. Joanna turned her full attention to the boy cowering in the corner.
"I think you need a little different brand of discipline," she said, "Little cocksman that you are."
"What's that, Auntie?" the boy said.
The woman strolled to her array of goodies and bent over to pick up an object. The boy had no idea what it was, since her body obscured it. When she stood up he saw what it was. He began running, but found that there wasn't far to run.
He ran the wrong way and thudded against his Amazon aunt's rigid body.
"There, there," the woman said, "don't be in such a hurry. Stay for some heavy B and D."
With that she threw her arm out at full length and Lance could see she was holding a wide paddle of hard wood.
She slammed the paddle against his shoulder, hard.
"Now take off those pants," she wailed. "Take them off or I'll have to burn them off."
Lance immediately grappled for his zipper and slid it down. He was out of his pants so fast nobody saw him do it. He stood shivering in his shorts. Not from the cold, from sheer terror.
"Now the underpants," the woman said, slapping the paddle suggestively against her outstretched hand.
"Uh," Lance started to say.
One menacing step by his aunt convinced him.
He flipped his shorts off and threw them in a heap on the floor in the comer.
"Is that any way to treat your clothes?" the woman said, harshly.
"Sorry," Lance replied.
He rushed over to his shorts and bent down to pick them up. In his haste he forgot that his ass was facing his aunt.
She slammed the paddle against his outstretched little round buttocks so hard, his feet left the ground.
When he landed again, he felt another slap against his backside.
"Owwwwww!!!!" he said, reaching his hands around to cover it.
Again the woman slammed the paddle down on his fingers, burning them brutally.
Then, she began to paddle him in earnest, to heat up his buns with the fire of her disciplining board.
As she hit him, she snarled at him.
"Thank me. Say, 'Thank you, Mistress' when I hit you. After all, I'm teaching you something. I am teaching you how to be a man."
And then she really hit him again.
SMACK!
"Say it," she said. "Let me hear you say it!!!"
"Thank you, Mistress."
THWACK!!!!
"Thank you, Mistress."
SMACK!!!
"Thank you, again, Mistress, dear."
THWACK!!! SMACK!!!
"Thank you so much, Mistress. Thank you twice."
She continued to spank him until his ass looked like raw, red meat and felt hot as a freshly-fired pistol.
Lance took the punishment as best he could, considering the thing damned near made him take leave of his senses. But as he continued to take it, as he continued to feel the burning taking over his ass, a strange thing happened.
His prick had begun to harden.
That was odd, in and of itself that his dick should get stiff when he was getting such an awful intolerably hard whipping. But that it should be so insistently stiff as stiff and big as his Dad's pecker, really, even from the view he had of it.
That was sure odd. He didn't think his dork was anywhere the size of his old man's. But there it was.
Another strange thing was happening. Tim and Tish were getting along like two flies in a jam pot. They were rubbing up against each other and Tim had his arms all wrapped around Tish's body.
Lance was pretty sure it didn't have anything to do with ice bags, since the ice had all melted. And he thought the heat of their little encounter might have something to do with it.
Sure enough. The two of them were rubbing noses, chests, elbows, more things than he really had time to catalogue considering how heated up his ass was getting just now.
"Thank you, oh, thank you, Mistress."
"Whack! Thack!!!! Whack!!!"
Such a handsome young man, Joanna thought as she continued to strike his round twin mounds. Looks a lot like my late sister. And a little like his father too.
Wonder if he's still a virgin. Think I'll find out.
She felt her pussy pulsating with joy as she thought of it. Then, she dropped to one knee in front of him.
"Sit!!!!" she commanded.
Lance's well-spanked ass burned as his buns hit the floor.
Then, he saw his mistress hold out her arms, tossing her paddle down to the floor.
She touched his chest softly, playing with his tight adolescent skin.
He was a little surprised that the woman who had just beaten the stuffing out of his ass should be touching him so softly now, with her fingertips and not with that paddle.
"What is it Mistress," he said, not daring to speak too loudly, or he would break the spell.
His dick was terribly hard and shooting up there between his legs.
"I would like to fuck you, Lance," the woman said, rubbing her leather boots together suggestively. "Here."
"Are you serious?" Lance said, his eyes bugging out.
"Yes. This is really happening," the woman said, leaning on one elbow and lowering her black leather camisole so that Lance could peak at her huge round tit mound with the thick, hard nipple protruding from the tip.
Joanna moved her hand down his flat young stomach and touched the tip of his cock as he continued to writhe around on the floor, trying to avoid putting his whole weight on any one part of his ass. The thing burned back to his eyebrows.
"Now," Joanna said. "I can get a little testy if I'm kept waiting."
She lay back onto the floor and pulled him on top of her.
"Shiiiittttt!" Lance said, rolling on top of the gorgeous hunk of woman flesh.
It had been a few days since Joanna had fucked. Her pussy was hot and glowing with need. It was always that way after a really tough punishment session. What the fuck was wrong with her anyway?
This little sniveling kid wasn't even her type. But she sure liked the look of his big man-size joint. Maybe that was it. Her pussy just wouldn't let her rest. It seemed to insist on her having a chunk of it.
She lifted her hips and put her fingers on his stiff prick head and guided it into her big tight pussy.
She moaned aloud when the cock went into her, moaned and lifted her legs and put them around his young body.
"Fuck me," she cried, "I want it bad and I want it now."
"Oooooh," Tish cried, from the corner, "give me some more of that dick, Tim, you feel almost as good as Lance."
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Well," Aunt Joanna said, savoring the pleasure of the tease she was tormenting the children with "if you're really good."
"But we have been," the girl said, jumping up and down on her bed and clapping her hands together, "you told us so last night, remember?"
"I told you, you were getting better," the woman said, "I didn't say you'd reached perfection yet."
"But it would be so good if we could watch," Lance said, "Mistress Joanna," he added quickly. "Then we could see how a real slave behaves. We're really just beginners. Let's watch somebody advanced and then we'll get the hang of it so much better."
That sounded fine to Joanna, though secretly, she was pleased with the children's progress. They had become quite the little pair of slaves since she had brought them in to stay with her four days ago.
They were fast learners, too. Both of them had picked it up quite nicely after the first few painful nights.
Still, that Lance could do with a bit more humbling.
Fifteen minutes later the doorbell rang and Lance went to answer it. He was neatly turned out in a white maid's uniform with his curly blonde hair done up in a twist on top of his head and with full make up on.
The uniform was white with a black satin sheath under the apron. The sleeves were puffy and the skirt was flared. He wore fishnet stockings supported by garters to cover his thickening youthful legs.
A white lace cap was pinned snugly to the top of his head and his petticoats ruffled each time he moved.
"Hello, Mr. Shanklin," Lance said, in his best little girl's voice. It was soft and whispering.
"Hello, there," the man said smiling and watching the maid approach him.
The maid took his coat and turned to take it to the closet. The hem of Lance's skirt was high and the male client could see his bottom cheeks when he walked.
The maid had on a pair of frilly satin panties. And she was a fetching sight.
"Please come with me," Lance said, obediently, "Miss Joanna is expecting you in the dungeon."
The man followed the captivating little hot maid down the winding staircase that led from the straight upper floor of the penthouse to the lower level where the dungeon and dressing rooms were. He could feel his heart beat more rapidly as he approached the room.
"Go right in," Lance said, lowering his eyes politely.
He liked the way the man was looking at him.
Mr. Shanklin walked in the door and saw the regal Joanna perched on the edge of the huge old four poster bed in one corner of the room. The bed was lit from overhead by torches. And behind the head of it was a huge thick drapery. And behind that were two chairs. Tish was sitting in one of them. And right now, Lance was making his way toward the other.
The material allowed them to see what was going on, on the other side of it. But it did not allow whoever was on the other side of it to see them.
The man swept across the floor and bowed deeply for his mistress.
Joanna wore the costume this man loved. A black corset with leather half-cups, a black lace garter belt red satin panties, black stockings and black leather high heels that made her look like an ebony tower.
Her face was exquisite. It shone cold and ivory in the torchlight.
A black velvet choker collar with an antique cameo circled her long, swan neck.
The corset was expressly made for Joanna's rather voluminous bust and it sculpted it tightly, pressing her two huge breasts together and forcing a cleavage so solid that it would be impossible to stick a piece of paper between her tits.
The thing left the upper half of her huge nipples completely exposed.
Her skin was the color of ivory. The black corset had many gleaming metal studs set in the seams. The bottom of it came down to her waist.
Frilly black garters dangled down from the corset. She wore her red satin panties over the garters, for quick and easy removal.
The panties were bikini style and low cut and very tight. Her pussy was clearly outlined against the shimmering red fabric.
Mr. Shanklin's mouth watered.
Joanna's right leg was crossed over her left and her right foot dangled. The black stockings fit her long legs without a single wrinkle. They were sleek and alluring.
The black patent leather shoes had six inch spiked heels and sharply pointed toes. A black leather strap rested across the middle of her thighs.
Mr. Shanklin didn't have to be told to get down on his knees and press his forehead to the floor to honor this divine mistress. He performed the ritual automatically. After all, he wasn't exactly a newcomer to the establishment.
He had been coming to see his beauteous mistress for over two years.
Joanna let him wait for a minute before she got up. The sound of her clicking her stiletto heels across the floor sent shivers up Lance's and Tish's spines. They saw her black leather high heels had her nylon covered legs through the material. They didn't dare to breath, the tension in the bedchamber room was so great.
Pressing her leather toe under her slave's chin, Joanna lifted his head.
"You may kiss my foot, Shanklin," she snapped.
He nervously licked his lips. He puckered them and pressed them against her shoe. He wanted to lick and suck it, but he didn't dare take that liberty.
Not yet.
His lips touched leather. Joanna moved her foot away before he even had a chance to properly worship it.
"Look at me, Slave," the woman roared.
He raised his head and stared up at his goddess. She spread her legs and rested her hands on her hips and stared down at him like a scientist examining some specimen under a microscope.
His dick began twitching uncomfortably. It felt extremely heavy all of a sudden.
"You have displeased me, Shanklin," the woman brayed. "You were late this evening. Three minutes. What do you have to say in your defense?" Her eyes were radiant chips of glass.
"I ... I ... I am sorry, Mistress," the man offered. "Something came up at the office ... "
"Not good enough!!!!" Joanna seethed hotly between clenched teeth.
"You know the rules here. My training program requires that you take a session with me at least once a week. And that you be on time!!!!!"
"Oh, I am sorry, Mistress," the man said, squirming uncomfortably on the floor.
Joanna held the leather strap in her right hand. She tapped it against her thigh. "I do not propose to waste one more minute Take off your clothes. You will now learn the meaning of bondage and corrective discipline!"
Shanklin took off his clothes and meekly hung them over the chair near the bed.
The woman sat on the bed and stared at him. The bed was a specially-designed four poster with iron chains with cuffs attached and bolted to the posts.
The man undressed and stood naked in the center of the room. He looked down at his feet. His hands hung loosely at his sides. His cock had begun to thicken and elongate.
"I am going to have to bind you, Shanklin," the woman snapped. "But first, you'll have to crawl to me. And not on your hands and knees. That would be too easy. Get down on your belly and slither over to me like the pink worm you are."
Her degrading words made the man's dick quicken to life. It snapped to attention by twitching and jerking higher and higher. It got heavier and it jutted out from between his hips, a rigid rod of purplish flesh with blue veins on its shaft.
"The longer you keep me waiting," Joanna said, angrily, "the more severe will be your punishment."
He dropped to his hands and knees, then extended himself and lay belly down on the floor.
The carpet was thin, with a coarse fiber that scraped his flesh.
His dick was pressed between his body and the hard, carpeted floor. He stretched his arms out in front of him. His dick throbbed from the pressure.
"Crawl Slave, crawl," Joanna hissed.
He crawled. He inched forward, pulling his body across the carpet. His flesh tingled as he rubbed it against the carpet. His cock ached from the treatment of rubbing it this way.
At long last, he reached Joanna's feet. His dick was red and sore.
"Stand up so I can tie you," she commanded. "No, on second thought, I do not wish to soil my hands to tie you."
She snapped her fingers. Mr. Shanklin watched in awe as a young nubile slave girl came out from behind the curtain behind the bed. She was a blonde angel. But she was dressed in animal skins with her hair done up in braids and a ring through her nose. She had a dog collar around her neck.
The effect was enchanting. She was very docile. She bowed to her mistress, keeping her eyes lowered at all times.
"Tish!" the woman snarled at her, "you will be permitted to tie this wretched slave now."
Shanklin's pecker was now bright red from the friction of chafing it against the carpet.
"Ah, yes," Joanna said, pointing to his dork, "that nasty piece of flesh. Pay no mind to it, Tish. It was a sickly little pink worm and now it's a big thick snake. Don't bother with it at all It desires me. Nothing more. It dares to desire me!!!"
She gave the fleshy head of Shanklin's thick cock a contemptuous flick of her finger. There was a sharp, snapping sound as her red-painted nails struck his taut, red dick.
The man winced. His stiff pecker bobbed up and down, shaking from her touch.
He felt the tight pull of a rope encircle his body. The little slave girl was indeed binding him as her mistress had commanded she do.
"We cannot allow you to remain in such a state," Joanna howled, "you must be punished first. Your erect cock will have to go. Rather, you will have to get rid of it."
She set her strap down and snapped her fingers for Tish to disappear behind the curtain again.
The girl walked off obediently, proud of her performance. She hoped her aunt would be too. She had come to realize how the woman reacted if she wasn't entirely pleased.
Joanna stood up. She pulled her panties down off her hips. The red satin undergarments slid down her stockinged legs.
She ordered Shanklin to bend over and retrieve them. He did. He handed them to her and she wrapped them around his thick, throbbing member.
His face blushed beet red. Her long fingered nails nimbly wrapped the panties around his rod, tying it in place so that it stayed on by itself.
His dick was wrapped in red satin. Joanna ordered him to turn to one side and stand in profile. Shanklin was upset. He didn't know what he was doing that for. But Joanna did.
She wanted the children to get a good look at this dude. They might learn something. Especially considering what she planned to do next.
She picked up her leather strap.
"I am now going to stroke you," she said, in mock gentility.
With that she hauled her leather strap back and slapped it hard against his bare buttock.
"Now work on your front," she commanded.
Shanklin closed his fist around his dick. He moved his hand slowly up and down the shaft. He was startled by the crack of leather across his buttocks.
He whimpered, he moaned, but he also speeded up the rate at which he pulled and kneaded his panty covered cock.
Joanna sat on the bed, whipping his bottom while he masturbated. The strapping increased his excitement and soon he was breathing hard and fast.
He had never been so hot.
Her breasts jiggled in their leather half-cups. The strap fell squarely across his butt mounds. They turned first pink, then red.
His breath came in sobbing moans. His hand was a blur of motion, sliding like lightning up and down his hard dick.
The strap struck him again and again.
He came. He shivered convulsively and his balls pumped semen out the slit in his hard prick. It jetted from his cock into the panties.
"Shiiiittttt!" Tish whispered, unable to control herself there for a moment.
Joanna put her shoulder into the strap and gave it extra power as he jerked himself off to a non-stop wild and writhing wet climax.
The last drops of semen were wrung from his dick slit. He gasped for breath, trying to find it somewhere in the room.
Joanna carefully unwrapped the panties from around the man's still rock hard member. There was a thick quantity of come cream in the folds of the material of the red satin panties.
"Get down on your knees," the woman railed, "Open your mouth."
He did so and his prick stayed sharp as a railroad spike. Joanna grabbed a handful of his hair and jerked his head back, tilting it upward, bunching up his neck muscles.
Holding the panties in her hand, she lowered them full into his mouth.
They filled it, pushing his cheeks out, too.
"Now you won't be able to make any more of those insipid whining noises," she scolded. She grabbed a thin thong of leather from off the stand next to the bed and bound them tightly in his mouth, by wrapping the strand around his head several times.
Then, she reached for a second strand of leather. She cupped and lifted his balls and slipped the leather, with a little loop in it, over the top of his balls and pulled it tight. He winced from the pain. The tightness made his balls look like a mushroom cap.
She gripped the base of his dick and wrapped the rest of the cord around it. His dick was stiff and this insured it would stay that way.
She took him face down across her lap. His stiff dick bar was trapped between her nyloned thighs, which she pressed firmly against it, holding it snuggly in.
Shanklin sniffed the hot, erotic perfume of the woman's flesh. His head swam with delirious delights. She put her hands on his bottom. She kneaded his bare ass flesh this way and that.
He felt a heavy build-up of heat and tension in his genitals. He felt strained to the breaking point.
She parted his buttocks and ran her fingertip down the crack of his ass. She toyed teasingly with his puckered anus, which contracted at the touch.
Then she picked up her strap and went to work on him.
Her strong arm rose and fell with mechanical regularity as it switched on and on and on across his wide expanse of butt flesh.
Joanna wrapped her free arm around his waist and held him tightly so he couldn't squirm away from her punishing blows.
Shanklin's buttocks rippled under the force of the on rushing strap. His ass cheeks darkened to a full red glow. Tears flowed freely down his face, spilling onto the floor.
"Pathetic little lad," Joanna said smoothly, "you can't help yourself ... your mistress is so much stronger than you are."
And then, Joanna twisted her head toward the curtain over the bed and called out, "and don't you forget it!!!!!"
Shanklin's body quivered, shook and his dick throbbed hard. But the harder it throbbed, the more it hurt him in the balls.
"All this work has made me hot," the woman screeched, tossing her strap down. "I need excitement I crave excitement. So where the hell is it?"
She held the man up a moment and fished the panties out of his mouth, then untied the strap around his head.
"Anything" the man said, keenly at the height of his bliss for her ."Anything my mistress commands."
"Suck me off," the woman snapped, tossing the man onto the bed.
She lay down on top of him, wiggling her huge hips up toward his face, aiming her pussy in the direction of his mouth.
Joanna stroked her pussy lips with her red nails, spreading them wide for her slave to lick and suck into deeply. It made her nipples pucker and stiffen over the corset to do that. And it made her cunt lips throb with eager anticipation.
Nothing ever felt quite so good as having a really passive slave give her head after she had dominated him for fifteen or twenty minutes.
She bounced greedily up and down on top of his face facing his bound-up balls. They were dark wine color. They were tremendously aroused. And they couldn't take much of the punishment she had been dealing out to them. No matter. She would relieve him of that. As soon as he relieved her.
"Suck my pussy dry, Slave!" the woman cried. "Suck my hot fucking cunt till it runs honey, you ungrateful wretch!!!! Eat my cunt, Worm!!!!!!!!!"
By this time, Tish and Lance had gotten so hot they had begun to jerk each other off, completely forgetting where they were.
Lance had half his fist implanted up his sister's sweet blonde cunt and Tish was gripping the lad's dick as hard as she could. She pumped furiously at his hard dork handle, coaxing the come from inside his balls, where it lay building up pressure slowly and surely.
"Eat my cunt worthless pink worm," the woman railed, "eat it or take even worse punishment."
She kept skewering her cunt around and around over his mouth, forcing his tongue high up inside her.
"Ahhhh!" she gasped, feeling his hot licks.
The man ate his mistress's cunt as he was bade to, unaware that behind the curtain only a few feet from his head, two very young people were getting off on each other and with each others' help.
"Pull my pudding out," Lance whispered hotly into his sister's ear.
Tish gripped the boy's powerful thick stick and did exactly that.
"Fuck my cunt hole," she hissed softly back at him. It had been a lot of fun digging up in his panties to find his prick.
"I can't take it much more," Lance warned his sister who was sliding her hand up and down expertly over his thick manly greased dick pole.
Joanna heaved her hips up and down wildly, then, just as she felt herself nearing a rush of climax, she bent over and unleashed the man's balls, so that he could blast off.
"You may now come, Slave!" she ordered, digging her hips in for real.
She was very near to an explosion herself. So near, in fact that she felt the first twinges of a hard, hefty climax butting at her groin from the inside.
In his eagerness, to jab more of his fist down his sister's cunt he stood up to provide himself more leverage. That was a mistake His sister stood up to catch more of his fist and grip his rock hard pecker firmer.
The two of them shot simultaneously, even as Lance lost his footing and fell over into the drapery over the bed crashing onto the mattress and into the climaxing couple even as he himself was shooting a huge, hard load of cock pudding out the end of his man-size adolescent prick stick.
"Gawwwwwwwwddddd!" Shanklin said, tossing his head back and experiencing the come of his life. "The comets are colliding."
"Shiiiittttt!!!!!" Tish screamed, "It ain't no comet, Mr. It's me and Lance!"
She felt herself blast off into the stratosphere as the boy's hard fist sailed up inside her pussy and pushed it back to her anus.
"You fuckers!" Joanna shrieked, "how the hell can you learn how to be my slaves if you fall onto the customers?"
The question lifted itself up over her head as she felt herself plummet out into space and circle the globe once or twice in a hot array of bouncing driving come rushes.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"I want to serve at the party," the excited blonde girl said, jumping up and down.
"I want to," Lance shouted, trying to shove his sister out of the way.
The two had been having this very animated conversation all morning long.
It was only two weeks since their father and his girlfriend had skipped off to Alcapulco and they were due back the following afternoon.
But there was to be a gala party that night. A stupendously lavish party with many s and m devotees and slaves and dominants and all manner of submissives. Many of them were friends of Mistress Joanna and some of them were her own pets and body slaves.
"Aunt Joanna says I look best in her maid's uniform," Lance bragged, standing with his hands on his hips and swaying back and forth haughtily.
"But I am the girl Lance," Tish said, sticking her little tits out so that he could see that it was indeed true. "You two just stop arguing, now," Aunt Joanna said, flouncing into the room. She was wearing one her long, lush gowns and it was open to her crotch when she made wide strides into the room.
Lance loved to look at Aunt Joanna's legs. He loved to put his hand in between her legs, too. And he loved to feel her huge, monstrous big kinky amber bush.
"You're behaving like a baby," Joanna brayed, storming at the boy and grabbing the maid's apron out of his hand.
"I'm sorry Mistress Joanna," the boy replied, bowing his head.
He hadn't meant to upset her. He knew how she could be when she was angered. And the truth was, he had learned much from being a guest in her house. All about how to behave in her presence especially.
And there was one thing she didn't like. That was disobedience. She wanted always to be obeyed and taken with the greatest seriousness and respect.
He had learned that in the last two weeks. So had his sister. They had learned it from firsthand experience and from watching her give discipline to others who visited her in her penthouse apartment.
They had also learned it from watching her and Tim. Tim was one of her favorite body slaves as well as being her masseur, chief cook and bottle washer and all around handy man.
She would invite the two of them into her bedroom when Tim came in to give her a massage. And the two of them had been allowed to rub her down when the guy was working on her as well.
That had been a lot of fun. The boy worked on her with all of his weight, jumping up on her and pressing his hands into her back in huge swirling motions, making her cry out with pleasure.
"Oooooh, shit that hurts," she would say to him as he dug his whole hard hand into her back flesh.
Then he would work his hands down, down her back and end up digging them into her ass cheeks, poking at the hard muscles near her sphincter.
Then, he would spread her ass cheeks wide and give her a highly stimulating anus rub. The children would love to watch that.
They picked up enough pointers to be able to do it to each other when the woman wasn't around.
She had this way of not being around, then when she was least expected, popping onto the scene.
They didn't know where she had come from, but they had surmised that the house was bugged. They kept looking for hidden microphones and cables, but so far, nothing.
Still she had that way of creeping up on them when they were sure they were alone. That had made them especially subservient to her.
They had both begun to beg to be the one to serve her. And that seemed to please their aunt very much.
"I want to be the maid, Aunt Jo," Tish said, pleadingly, "please let me serve your guests. I'll do anything you wish. I'll dress like a slave girl or like a shepherdess or completely naked if you want. I'll even let you put a ring through my nipple like some of your slaves and pets have. Oh, please."
"But I could be such a good maid," Lance said, trying to sound more qualified than his sister. "I'm strong so I can help tie people up. And I would wear my dog collar if you wanted me, too Oh, please Auntie Jo. Let me be your maid tonight."
"You're both acting like spoiled rotten babies," the woman said, "you simply will have to learn a lesson before the company arrives."
She strolled over to the kitchen sink where Lance was standing holding the maid's apron and grabbed it from him. "From the way you're both behaving, neither of you deserve to serve my guests until you grow up a bit."
With that, she pressed the intercom and called to Tim.
"Send in the baby devices," she ordered quickly, "my niece and nephew need some infant discipline."
Less than three minutes later the two of them watched Tim march into the room with a full tray of goodies.
"I want you two to take off all your clothes and lie down on the table."
Lance stared at his sister. This aunt was so fucking full of surprises. You never knew what she was going to pull next. It could be anything. Now she was going to make them behave like babies again. Who knew what that would include?
They undressed as quickly as they could, pulling their overalls off and throwing them on the kitchen table chair.
"Get up on that table," Joanna hollered, coming at them with an electric hand mixer. The thing was battery operated and the blades were going around and around on it.
"I don't know why you two babies insist on making a fuss during my beauty sleep," the woman snarled.
Indeed, they did appear to have disturbed her. She had a thick layer of mud pack on her face and her hair was in curlers. Still, the body was something to behold.
She slipped her robe off and the two kids could see she was wearing a full-length black leather corset under it that held her tits up high and pushed them together tightly, making her cleavage look like two huge balloons full of water.
She had her black stockings on under that thing already, having begun to get dressed for the party by now. Her black garters hugged her body tightly, supporting the stockings that sculpted her long, luscious legs.
She aimed the electric beater into Lance's face and he saw himself being whipped by it like he was an enormous egg. What the hell was she going to do next? One never knew with Aunt Jo.
"I'd like to whip you to a froth," she said, seething into his face. "You're nothing but a nerdy little scum bag. Just like your father."
Then, she turned her attention and her anger on Tish. "And you're no better. You lousy little twat. You tease everybody within city limits with your hot little ass and those nubile little nothing tits of yours. You're nothing but a spoiled little cunt. You know that?"
The woman sounded genuinely enraged. But that was the thing about Aunt Joanna. She always sounded genuinely enraged.
One never knew with her. But both kids did know that it was best not to take any chances.
Tim set the tray of goodies down on the kitchen counter so as not to disturb her.
"That will be all." Joanna said, hearing his footsteps behind her. "I'll take care of these two little spoiled brats myself. There nothing but putty in my hands now."
Indeed Lance was starting to feel like a ball of silly putty. The woman played with his head any time she liked and he had to take it. The problem is he liked it well enough to let her.
Tish, too, felt like she was completely at the mercy of this savage, slightly mad woman. But then, it was true. She was.
And she liked it. She was even considering becoming a dominatrix when she grew up. She was certainly being afforded a great opportunity here to learn from the best in the business.
"Roll over and get on all fours so I can see those bare asses," the woman stormed, grabbing her thick gold-plated hairbrush and slapping it against her outstretched palm.
The two of them made like Bedouins facing Mecca and let their asses ride up in the air and kept their heads down low. They would have to do just as she commanded or they knew the punishment would last for hours.
"I'm going to have to show you two ingrates what a real lady does when her nasty children misbehave as you have done."
With that warning, the woman picked up her brush and swatted it down on Lance's outstretched ass cheeks.
The boy felt the stinging path of the brush wound his upturned butt mounds. The thing hurt him so bad he made a face and let out a little cry of pain.
"Chicken shit," the woman uttered on hearing his little cry of pain. "Is that what you call painful? You ain't felt nothing yet."
The woman reached over onto the bureau and whipped off another hairbrush.
Then, with one in each hand like a pair of six guns she brazenly plied them both down across the boy's outstretched ass buns.
That double-barreled pain got Lance right where he lived. His pecker stood up like a wooden soldier. His balls began to throb a little ditty against his cock and he sure wished to hell he had more control of himself.
"Aha!" Joanna said, spotting his big man-size boner, "you're getting big and bold aren't you?"
The boy bit his lower lip and prepared for whatever the woman would hurl at him next.
"Well, I'm not ready to have you get big and hard yet. I didn't order you to, did I?"
"No," the young boy smiled as his lower lip quivered and he fought back the tears of his shame and pain.
He would have liked to tell her that his dick had a mind of its own and it didn't seem to notice whether she had commanded it to stay down or not. It simply did as it felt.
"No, what?" the woman screamed at the top of her lungs, rattling the plates in the kitchen cupboard.
"No, Mistress Joanna," the boy said, burying his face in the crook of his right arm.
"Lousy little boy anyway," the woman said, under her breath, "they should all be killed at birth!"
Tish waited silently for her aunt to give her, her due. She knew it wouldn't be long in coming. It never was with Mistress Joanna.
"Well, what are you doing with that snotty look on your face Little Miss Ass Kisser?"
Tish tried to change the expression on her face to a more humble one but she wasn't sure she had the hang of it.
She could feel the heat from Lance's firm, hot buns fairly glowing next to hers and she knew that she should at least try to do as her aunt wished.
"Nothing Auntie," the girl started, "I mean, nothing, Mistress Joanna."
"I think your ass is entirely too prim and proper for my tastes," the woman said "I think it needs some deep, lines down it to give it character."
With that, the woman swung around and jerked the silverware drawer open and pulled out a long, sharp meat fork.
She dangled it rudely in front of the girl's face.
"A few hot, red bleeding tracks around that ass ought to make it less All-American, don't you agree?"
"But what if my daddy ... " the girl began to protest. After she did, she wished she hadn't.
"Your daddy happens to be one of my top pets," Joanna screeched, "and that lewd little girlfriend of his is one of my personal body slaves. They'll do whatever I say and go along with whatever I decide, don't try and give me any back talk, young lady."
The woman flew to where Tish was jutting her ass out into the room and stuck the prongs of the fork, tip down, flush against her left buttock.
"How would like me to skewer this right into your ass?"
"Please, Auntie Joanna," the girl cried, "please. I can't bear to have my buns mangled like that."
The woman began a devastatingly teasing series of jabs into the girl's hot, round butt cheeks. Occasionally, one of the jabs would get out of hand and Joanna would pierce her flesh, leaving two little round holes of ruby red scattered all over her delicious pink, fleshy butt mounds.
Joanna held onto two brushes at once and continued to spank Lance with the hard back side of them.
"No, no, no," the boy wailed, "it hurts. It hurts!!!!!"
"You bet it hurts," Joanna hollered, in her cruelest dominatrix voice, "it hurts to see you two acting like little brats. If I ever catch you fighting around here again over who is going to serve me, I'll tie you up and bar-b-cue you for the main course and serve you myself."
Tish wept copiously as the woman continued to jab her, drawing dangerously closer and closer to her precious pink secret sphincter.
The woman had tasted blood now, though and wasn't about to relinquish her dynamic hold on the two delinquents.
She turned away long enough to grab a length of rope and tie the four hands and four feet flush against the hardwood kitchen table so her two prey couldn't go anywhere during the next part of the treatment.
"I don't like that hard dick of yours," Joanna said, "It gives me the creeps. We'll just have to do something about it!"
Lance moaned in pain from the way his ass was throbbing from the licking his aunt had given it. He didn't want to act any more like a baby than she was making him feel right now, but he felt so fucking hot and hard and so much in pain.
The woman grabbed a cloth diaper from off her tray of goodies and folded it to accommodate the boy's bare ass.
She picked up a set of huge diaper pins and set to work putting diapers on the young man's round slick ass and wrapping it over his throbbing hard on.
The eye of his dick stared up at her and his shaft looked like quite a handful. For a moment she considered jerking him off herself, he looked so ready. But she knew he must be made to wait his turn after he had again discovered who was in charge around here.
"You have quite a man size dick there," Joanna said, "but it won't do you a bit of good. I'm going to diaper it. That's what babies deserve. And you won't be able to touch it unless I give the order."
Lance glanced down as his big third eye, pulsating at the center of his cock dome. It had been slapped flush against his hard stomach. The rough material of the diaper chafed him cruelly.
He twisted around, though the ropes held him fast enough so that movement was difficult "Now," Joanna said, moving toward her face, "you'll just have to take what I dish out to you, young lady."
Tish was beginning to get the idea that that was indeed how things worked around here.
She let her aunt diaper her runny bloody butt cheeks and bring the diaper through her cunt constricting it tightly. She felt her clit get tucked down and felt a lot of pressure being applied to it.
That hurt like hell, considering that her clit had begun to stretch and pound and fill with the blood of her arousal. She was about to ask her aunt to go easier, but she thought better of it Asking Aunt Joanna for anything was like begging a mountain for gold.
The woman entwined her niece tightly into the hot, harsh material of the diaper, folding it hard down over her clit and pinning it so tightly the girl could hardly breathe.
"Better," the woman said, eyeing them both. They looked like twin baby New Years.
She grabbed two enormously out-sized pacifiers, with rubber tips on the end and shoved one into each of their mouths.
"Taste that!" she hollered victoriously, "see how you like the taste of rubber now. At least it will shut you up for a minute."
The rubber mock nipple didn't taste any too good in either of the children's mouths. They found their saliva producing overtime in an attempt to wash the vile bland taste out of their mouths. "Messy! That's too bad. But, then, I suppose babies do that sort of thing. I'll just have to punish you for it."
Joanna reached over and smacked Tish hard across her face.
"Stop drooling bitch!" she shouted.
The same slap, she reproduced for Lance's smooth boyish cheek.
"You, too, Fucker."
The woman turned to her tray and picked up two pairs of specially-designed baby shoes. They were adult size, but made in the way baby shoes would have been made if adults wore them. They were white and made of soft leather. They had pink laces on one of them, blue on the other.
"Time to put your booties on," the woman snarled hotly. "I can't have my babies running around barefoot. How would it look in front of company. No, way."
Tish shot her brother a frightened glance. What the hell did this woman mean by 'company' anyway? Was she going to show them to her guests like that? Impossible to believe, but not much was impossible to believe with Joanna on duty.
The woman stuck the children's feet in their booties and drew the string lace so tightly around it she constricted their feet in pain.
Lance's hard-on felt like it would never be stopped. But the thought of appearing before company like this, when he had already started to grow whiskers and a little tuft of hair around his dick shaft made him burn crimson with embarrassment.
How could he ever explain it?
Finally, Joanna produced a pair of huge leather harnesses, of the type grown women use when their babies have begun to walk and they don't want them running away. A cruel enough device for a child, but in the hands of this crazed woman and with her intentions of using it on adolescent adults, it was a weapon to wonder about.
Tish shook her head when she saw the tough leather thing slip down over her hair. But she knew the woman meant business by now.
Joanna affixed the complicated leather bracing around the girl's body in such a way as it bound and constricted her breasts, pressing harshly against the nipples.
The leather straps were biting the nipples down into her chest so hard she feared she wouldn't have any breath, let alone be able to endure the pain of her throbbing, pink little knocker tips.
Without so much as a pause, Joanna turned her attentions to Lance. She put the brace firmly onto his shoulders and began snapping and locking and belting it in place.
She constricted the boy's chest tightly with each placement of the leather pieces and bound his nipples in tightly, too, though not causing him nearly as much grief as his sister.
Finally, the woman stepped back and surveyed the handiwork. She nodded with pleasure as she took in the scene which now included Lance and his sister moaning in pain and indignation from being bound so tightly and cruelly.
"If you have to go to the toilet," the woman said, "I know you'll know just where to dump."
She then untied their hands and feet and watched as they agonizingly climbed off the table.
Lance stood up and tried to rub his angry hard pecker.
"You can't stand up!!!!" Joanna shouted, "babies don't stand up. They crawl, you dumb shit head. Now crawl!!!!"
Joanna spun around and grabbed her electric carving knife and turned on the battery. These kids were giving her entirely too much flack. She did not intend to take any more shit from them.
With her carving knife in her hand, she felt at least a little more in control of the situation.
Lance got down on all fours and crawled around helplessly. His whole frame ached.
Tish, following his example, slid off the table and hit the deck on all fours.
"At least you're learning," Joanna said, patting the blonde cutie on the head.
"Now children!!!!" Joanna shouted, leading the way with her carving knife "We must go downstairs and help Aunt Joanna get ready for the party. If you're going to grow up to be proper adults, you'll have to learn to take responsibility. And, if you have to use the toilet, you'll just have to go in your diapers. And, if you do that, you'll just have to clean it up yourself. In front of our guests, of course."
Lance and Tish followed the woman obediently out of the kitchen and toward the living room. Their whole bodies ached with indignation, shame and pain.
Lance's pecker boomed with arousal and Tish's cunt lips were clanging together like cymbals. They were hot and tortured and in pain. But through it all, they both knew they had learned some valuable lessons from Aunt Joanna.
Lessons in obedience.
The doorbell sounded with a harsh, dull ring.
"Isn't someone going to get that?" Joanna brayed, swaying her hips from side to side and whisking out of the room like an empress leaving her throne.
Tish looked at Lance and trembled a bit. More from the idea that one of them might be expected to answer the door than from the pain she was feeling all over her constricted, bound up, hemmed in body.
"Can't Tim answer?" Lance said, shutting his eyes in pain and awaiting the answer.
"Tim is fixing the canapés in the kitchen," the blaring voice boomed out, as though it were coming over a loudspeaker.
The woman had the loudest, most grating voice in the world when she wanted, though at other times, she could talk sweet as molasses.
"One of you will just have to get that," Joanna said, impatiently, "I would even suggest that both of you go at once if you're frightened. I know babies often are scared of trivial things."
Lance stared at his sister in disbelief. This woman really intended to go through with this insane plan. Have the children, dressed now as infants, parade around in front of her guests.
It was just too much to believe. Yet they both knew the consequences, if they dared to defy her. They had already seen how she dealt with the least little challenge to her authority.
"Well," Joanna said, tapping her foot and standing in the hallway, framed by her plants and pornographic pictures of herself, "I'm waiting."
Tish and Lance hobbled toward the door as best they could.
"Ah uh," Joanna said, bringing her foot out and cruelly tripping Lance, "on your hands and knees now. Remember, babies don't walk. And I want nothing but baby talk from you both all evening." Lance fell to the floor with a howl.
"Please, Auntie Joanna," the boy begged, feeling his rock hard dick spring to life every time he looked at her or his half-naked sister, or think about the spectacle of himself standing there in those pathetic diapers with the big baby shoes, wrapped in that harness.
"Oh, you pathetic little spoiled brat!" Joanna shouted, "I'll take you there myself. And I'm not even ready."
She grabbed one of the leather straps in her right hand and one of them in her left and jerked the reins hard.
"Come children," she bellowed, "let's go see who's at the door."
As best they could, the children got down on their hands and knees and made for the stairway and the front door. They both were glad the thing was carpeted, because that would have made it even worse to walk on.
To crawl on, actually.
It took a lot of time to get only a few feet, which angered their aunt all the more. "What are you two kids, anyway," the bitch hollered, "retarded?"
Finally, they made it to the door and sat there in horror as the woman slowly opened the thing and threw her hands up in surprise, "Captain Nelson!!!!"
Indeed, a man in a blue policeman's uniform poked his head in the door.
"Thank God," Lance whispered, the tears of painful embarrassment flowing down his face, "we're saved."
Tish nodded and stared up into the eyes of the friendly looking officer of the law. Surely he wouldn't let them be abused like this. There must be some law the woman was breaking. She was abusing them both. This policeman wouldn't allow it to continue surely.
He would have her arrested, clap her in irons, banish her to Devil's Island ...
"Hi there, Joanna," the big, burly officer said, strolling in and barely glancing down at the two diapered oversized babies on the floor.
"See you got your hands full tonight," he said, grinning and patting Tish's head, "Cute kids. And I guess you know how to handle them. Boy, I'd like to put my own in harness sometimes. Course, Billy, he's my youngest, he's already twenty-seven, so I guess it would be hard. Those shoes are real cute, too."
"Captain Nelson is one of my oldest clients, children," Joanna said, as if they hadn't already guessed as much, "do be nice to him. Don't tinkle on his uniform. And please, don't beg him for a ride in his squad car. He has to keep that ready for real criminals."
"Joanna," the officer said, admiring the children's harness affairs, "you sure have got some dandy equipment here. Wish I could get my hands on some of it. Come on, Sugar Tits, why don't you give me the name of your leather maker?"
"Noooo," Joanna said, waltzing into the kitchen to check on Tim, "that's a trade secret."
"Looks like one of you kids has an extra billy club," the big man said, leaning over and patting the place in the diaper where Lance's firm, longish dick was already starting to poke through. It wouldn't be difficult for it to jut out the crack in the diaper since the woman had affixed it quite loosely around his legs.
Lance held his breath and hoped to hell it wouldn't happen. He had already been shamed enough this evening.
"Look at the set of titties on this one," the man said, leaning over and giving Tish's tits a hard squeeze.
"Wanna play horsie with me, little baby?" the man said, as the doorbell sounded again.
Out of nowhere, Tim strolled in to open it.
It was another man. One in a business suit. He had a woman with him. She was stacked and revealingly dressed. Two more friends of Joanna's no doubt. Then, Lance got a closer look.
Something familiar about those two. Of course, it was his father. His father and Kendra. Why hadn't he recognized them?
They were deeply sun-tanned, but that shouldn't have made much difference. Then, he realized what it was.
He had been looking at them from the perspective of a little child. Exactly the way Joanna had made them up to be.
Shit!!!! Lance thought to himself. It's working!!!! This woman is making me into a baby. I'd better warn Tish.
Tish was now bouncing happily on the captain's knee. Not so happily, because the officer of the law had his dick out and Tish was sucking on it.
"Isn't that a great pacifier, now?" he said, in the remnants of an Irish accent and with a grunt in his voice.
Tish was blinking her eyes and trying to get her balance.
"Go on and suck that thing," the man said, "you'll like it."
"No, sis, don't," Lance said.
"Shut up you brat," the officer said, kicking at Lance with his foot.
Lance felt himself fly across the room off the end of the officer's big boot. He tried to scramble up but someone caught him by the back of the diapers and lifted him off the floor and up into the air as he kicked and clawed his feet and hands into the air.
"Put me down, put me down," he cried.
"Shut up," came the cruel voice. "I'm going to have a bit of fun with you and then I'll put you down and not until."
Something about the voice sounded familiar, but though Lance tried to screw his head around to look at who it was coming from, he couldn't quite see it.
"That's nice," the policeman said, stuffing his thick cock into the frightened little girl's mouth. "Suck on that a while and I'll give you a nice present."
Tish took the hot, hard log between her lips and tried to stretch her mouth wide enough to make room for it. Then, she felt something tugging at her diaper in back. A hand. A hard, punishing hand.
Probably Aunt Joanna's hand, but it felt hairier, thicker.
The cop was holding her head down on his dick so hard she couldn't turn a around to see who it was.
Then, Joanna appeared in the doorway. Dressed to kill. She was wearing her most extreme black leather dominatrix outfit. A high, antiquated leather corset that laced up the back with a matching pair of black leather bikini panties, the briefest pair any of her assembled guests had seen. She had on black stiletto boots with silver tips and matching heels.
The things went halfway up her calves and showed the shape of her legs perfectly. She wore nothing covering her tits at all and they jutted up from the black leather corset that clung to her rib cage and thrust against each other so hard it looked as though they were glued together.
"Welcome assholes!" Joanna said, snapping the braided black bullwhip that was lodged in her left hand grip. "The party has only begun, but I do hope you'll find everything to your taste. Please feel free to taste the two little cherubs I had done up for the occasion. They're free. But the canapés cost extra."
