Mistress Extreme (19 page)

Dear Mistress Isabella,

I just wanted to write to say how extremely sorry I am for the despicable way I behaved, particularly towards David, when I had the immense privilege of being your slave.

I blew it completely because I was crazy in love with you … and also because I'm a manipulative, deceitful bitch – I hate myself for it.

Please forgive me.

Jacqui

The letter did not show an address, phone number or e-mail address for Jacqui, and had been hand delivered some time in the night. It was marked for Isabella's personal attention, although she showed it to David anyway. She presented it to him, saying offhandedly, ‘You're mentioned in this missive, so you might as well read it.'

‘What do you think?' Isabella asked when he'd done this. ‘Sincere or what?'

‘Difficult to say, Mistress,' David replied, complimented to be asked his opinion by Isabella for once. ‘A tigress doesn't ... '

‘… change her stripes,' Isabella said, finishing his sentence. ‘No, that's true. Although I must say that the idea of giving her some new ones has its attractions from my point of view.'

‘I see, Mistress.'

‘But what do you think, slave?' Isabella went on. ‘Have you got any particular concerns about her coming back into the fold?'

There, she'd done it again: paid David the compliment of actually asking him for his opinion. Great – or it would have been if he'd gone on to give her a properly considered reply. But David didn't do that and, my God, how he would come to bitterly regret that fact.

‘No, I don't have any particular concerns, Mistress,' he said, the reply tripping glibly off his tongue. ‘Just one thing, though – how shall we find Jacqui?'

‘I don't think we need to worry about that,' Isabella said, giving him a sidelong look, a sardonic little smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. ‘I'm sure she'll find us.'

Twilight was just shifting into night as they drove up to the large, vine-covered house where the fetish party was taking place. The house was located right on the furthest outskirts of Brighton, well beyond the urban sprawl. It nestled in a fold of the South Downs, hidden from the road by tall trees. The place was quite crowded by the time Isabella and David arrived. Even so, the party was not yet in full swing and the murmur of voices was louder than the sounds of the music that drifted from the open door to welcome them.

They entered the house and were greeted by their hosts, a long-standing male-Dom couple called Master Clive and slave Suzie that Isabella and David knew from
Club Depravity.
They directed them to the changing area where they got into their fetish wear. Isabella squeezed into a skin-tight leather cat suit with some assistance from David, who also helped her on with a pair of tall boots with very high heels. He then put on the infinitesimal outfit she had selected for him, which consisted of only a tiny leather g-string on top of the tight metal genital ring he was already wearing at her insistence. They made their way into the big main lounge and picked up a couple of drinks.

The party was warming up very nicely, the buzz of conversation punctuated by the occasional sound of laughter. People were enjoying a chat and a drink, admiring one another's sexy outfits, and generally getting in a great mood for what was to follow. David let his eyes scan the room. He recognised some familiar faces from the various occasions he'd attended
Club Depravity
with Isabella, although there was nobody there from her immediate entourage. His gaze was drawn away from the other party guests for a moment to an erotic film that was playing silently against one wall. It was nothing too heavy, in fact rather beautiful: scenes of fetish passion and sensuality in the broad daylight in a sunlit wooded area somewhere.

David looked back at the other party guests. It was already clear that this was going to be a good night. Small groups of people were clustered together, absorbed in conversation but there seemed to be quite a bit of movement from group to group. It would not be long now before one couple or another started to use one of the various items of high quality dungeon equipment positioned around the large room they were in and the even larger one beyond it, which was devoted entirely to BDSM play.

Isabella and David continued to stand together and sip their drinks, the ice clattering in their glasses. They saw Jacqui before she saw them, apparently. They watched her crossing the room in their general direction, walking with rhythmic strides that snapped her high heels down hard on the polished floor as if to announce her presence. She stopped a short distance away from them next to a black leather couch, which was situated under a large, rectangular window. Pulling its curtains slightly apart, Jacqui flicked her long curly hair and gazed pensively out into the darkness. She looked not only suitably flamboyant but gorgeous too, dressed as she was all in black leather in an extremely short skirt, high heeled shoes and a corset that cinched her waist and pushed her breasts up enticingly.

Jacqui turned round and saw Isabella and David for the first time, or so she would have had them believe. ‘Oh, hi Mistress Isabella, David,' she said, her brown eyes glittering. ‘What a surprise to meet you here.' They watched a look rise into her face that communicated surprise and delight as well as embarrassment and contrition too, as she bit her lip softly. You had to hand it to Jacqui. It was a well nigh faultless performance.

To cut a long story short, Jacqui launched into a total charm offensive that evening, which David thought was more of a
smarm
offensive. She hung like a limpet on every word Isabella uttered, grovelled unashamedly to her, and did everything the dominatrix told her to do in an instant. This included stripping completely naked and crawling around the floor at her feet. It also included allowing herself to be punished most cruelly by the dominatrix – while David looked on, feeling like the invisible man for most of the time ...

The room devoted exclusively to BDSM play had quickly become a hive of kinky activity as the evening progressed. There was strap-on action and girl-girl action and girl-boy-girl action. There was needle play and wax play and rope play. And there was Jacqui, buck naked and on her knees beneath Isabella who was about to give the young woman her undivided attention.

‘Kiss my boots, slave,' the dominatrix ordered and Jacqui immediately dipped her head, pressing her lips to the shiny leather of the boots.

‘Now suck this heel,' Isabella commanded, and that's what Jacqui did. Bringing her mouth to the heel, she sucked the hard, shiny dagger in and out of her mouth. When Isabella finally pulled the boot away from Jacqui, its heel was wet with her saliva, the smear of her lips on the black leather.

Telling David to follow them, Isabella next walked Jacqui over to a metal spreader bar that hung by two chains from the room's ceiling. A naked, multi-pierced young black woman with very short hair and a stunning figure had just been freed from the spreader bar by her Master who had virtually covered her body with hot white candle wax while she'd been manacled to it.

Isabella told Jacqui to raise her arms and David to attach her wrists to the manacle attachments at either end of the bar before standing back. The dominatrix then took hold of a leather flogger and wasted no time in putting it to use.

‘Aah!' Jacqui cried as the first red-hot strike from the flogger landed across the middle of her backside. She gave another gasp of pain as Isabella's next stroke planted a second line of fire across her rear. And so it went on. The beating continued unremittingly, causing the cheeks of Jacqui's backside to smart with a fire that made her squirm and gasp in pain.

Isabella then got David to release Jacqui from the spreader bar and told both of them to come with her. She walked them over to a single chain with manacle attachments, which hung down to around waist height from the ceiling hook to which it was attached. It was about the only piece of equipment in the room not in use by this stage, the fetish party now being in full swing.

Immediately to their right a naked man wearing a blindfold and a gag had been strapped on his front over a whipping bench by a rubber-clad dominatrix who had left him there on his own for the time being. The man's backside had already been whipped a livid red, the black base of a vibrating butt plug protruded from his anus, and numerous metal pegs were attached to his genitals.

Isabella told David to secure Jacqui's wrists behind her back to the manacle attachments at the end of the chain. While he was doing that Isabella took hold of a red ball gag and a set of clover clamps. She put the gag into Jacqui's mouth and buckled it into place behind her head.

‘I'm now going to give you a serious beating,' Isabella informed Jacqui as if the flogging she'd already received from her had been no more than a trifle. ‘I'll place these into your right hand,' she added, showing her the clover clamps. ‘If the pain gets too much for you, drop the clamps.' Jacqui nodded her head in obedient response as she felt the item being placed behind her into her hand.

Isabella went on to beat Jacqui's backside with a leather tawse. Harsh stroke followed harsh stroke in quick succession and agonized moan followed agonized moan from beneath Jacqui's gag. Isabella rained increasingly heavy blows on Jacqui's backside, beating her with ever more ferocity until her rear blazed like a red-hot furnace.

Eventually the searing sensations of pain became too excruciating for the slave and she had to drop the clamps she had in her hand. These clattered to the ground, their links making a pool of silver on the hardwood floor. Isabella stopped beating her immediately. She unbuckled and removed the ball gag Jacqui had been wearing and masturbated her hard to an orgasm of great intensity. Jacqui's breath came in quick little pants and her whole body was shaking and shivering as she climaxed, making the chain behind her strain against the ceiling hook that held it firmly in place.

Jacqui was still hyperventilating when she was released from the chain. She said that she needed a couple of stiff drinks to get over the whole experience. At the end of the evening, Jacqui said she thought she might be over the drink driving limit. Could she perhaps sleep at Isabella's house, she wondered –
quelle surprise!
The dominatrix agreed and took her to bed with her that night, sending David, the invisible man, off to his own quarters until morning. There was no raunchy threesome for him this time round. What there was instead was a raunchy twosome for Isabella and Jacqui – with a wickedly exciting twist of something extra …

Isabella turned on to her stomach on the bed. She and Jacqui were naked, their beautiful bodies bathed in the soft glow of the bedside light. ‘Finger-fuck me and lick my arsehole, slave,' Isabella ordered, opening her legs. She could feel her pussy go nice and wet as she said the words.

Jacqui knelt between her spread legs, looking down at her beautiful backside and the slit of her sex. ‘Your word is my command, Mistress,' she whispered as she plunged her fingers into Isabella's pussy, making her groan with desire. She began pushing her fingers in and out of her, fast and hard.

Then Jacqui brought her mouth to Isabella's rear cheeks and pressed her lips to her anus, licking her until she trembled with desire. And all the time her tongue was flick-flick-flicking over Isabella's anus she carried on masturbating her, making her clitoris pulse with a moist insistent throb until a powerful orgasm washed over her.

Finally Isabella's orgasm subsided and she told Jacqui to shift position and lie next to her. She rolled over then herself, revealing her naked breasts and erect nipples and the copious wetness between her thighs. ‘Your turn now, slave,' she said.

Jacqui's eyes were shiny and her breathing shallow as Isabella pulled her down into her arms. She pressed her lips to hers and kissed her hard as she rolled on top of her. Isabella then put her lips to Jacqui's throat and licked a gentle trail down to her sex and began kissing her there. Her pussy was as wet and gleaming as her own and Isabella subjected it to a persistent licking, making it wetter still. Jacqui groaned deeply and ran her hands up over her stiff nipples and pinched them as Isabella licked deep inside her vagina, which was now sopping wet. She cried out in total abandon when she licked her to a blissful orgasm.

Then Isabella slithered back up the bed. ‘You've made me incredibly wet, Mistress,' Jacqui told her huskily.

‘I know,' Isabella replied. ‘Wet enough to fuck you with my fist, which is what I'm going to do now.'

Jacqui remained on her back, her body arching towards Isabella. She was slack-mouthed and her eyes were glazed with lust, her pupils dilated. She opened her legs wide apart. Her pussy was wet and sticky, dripping with liquid.

Isabella then put a hand down on her and started to rub, started to grind her fingers against her clitoral bud. She put two fingers into the slickness of her pussy, feeling the soft wetness of her insides. And Jacqui thrust her hips lasciviously against her probing fingers. They were really working Jacqui's pussy now and Isabella twisted a third one in. She drove all three of them deep inside her, plunging hard into her wet, wet sex. Jacqui was tight around her fingers as Isabella snaked her hand down to rub her stiff shiny clitoris again, this time with her thumb, and simultaneously she inserted a fourth finger into her vagina.

She forged deep into her sopping wetness several times before she inserted her thumb. She had her whole hand inside Jacqui's sex now, plunged into the hot oozing wetness of her. Jacqui was in a delirium of lust. Her breath was coming quicker and quicker. Her sex was soaking, drenched. Isabella's hand was drenched too as she pushed and pushed until Jacqui climaxed, shaking and moaning. Her face screwed up as her orgasm reached its peak and she cried out loudly. Isabella removed her hand. Her palm and wrist were soaked. The bedspread was wet with juice.

‘That was awesome, Mistress,' Jacqui said. ‘The whole evening was – thanks to you. What extraordinary luck it was that I bumped into you.' Yeah right, Isabella smiled to herself. Believe that last statement of Jacqui's and you'd believe anything.