Steven was naked. He lay on his belly on the floor. His chin rested on the carpet, supporting his head.
Monica wore thigh-high black leather boots. They were brightly polished and shining. She rubbed the pointed toe against his face.
She said, "Lick it."
Steven touched his tongue to the smooth leather. He licked the top of the foot, and worked his tongue up her boot.
She wore a thin black leather micro-skirt. Her legs were in nylons. Her thighs were white above the stocking tops.
She wasn't wearing any panties. Her bush was black and curly. The lips of her pussy were fleshy but delicate.
She grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling him up. He rubbed his face against the sheer nylons.
His cock was stiff and hard. Monica rubbed her pointed toe against its sensitive underside.
She laughed, "And you tried to tell me that you're not a slave!"
"I'm not!" he cried out.
"No? Then I'll just have to convince you that you are." Monica reached for a dildo and a whip.
CHAPTER ONE
The slave cringed on the floor. He was crying. He was nude, and his ass bore the bright red marks of a recent whipping.
Monica looked down at him. Slobbering, he tried to kiss her booted feet, but she kicked him away.
She was thirty-two years old, tall, brunette. She had a buxom hourglass figure, and long, strong legs.
Her hair was midnight black. It hung to the middle of her back. Her eyebrows were arched and dark, her eyes cool and grey, and her mouth red-lipped and luscious.
She wore a black satin nightie and high heels. Her hair was tousled from sleep. She had awakened a short time ago.
The nightie had a low-cut, plunging neckline. Her breasts were high and firm. The neckline displayed her cleavage, and the soft rounded swell of her breasts.
Her nipples were hard. They were outlined against the satin fabric.
The nightie was very short. Its hem came to the tops of her thighs. The hem was trimmed with black lace.
She wasn't wearing panties. When she moved, the hem rode up, revealing her dark, thick pubic bush.
Her high heels accentuated the contours of her calves and thighs. The heels were black patent leather, with sharp pointed toes.
Her slave's name was George. He was forty-eight years old. His body was soft, and he had a pot belly. His breasts sagged, and the hair on his chest was iron-gray.
His face was round, red, and tear-stained. He had bushy eyebrows and a slight double chin. His eyes were moist.
His plump ass was criss-crossed with red lines and welts. Monica had whipped him with a thin, flexible rod.
It was eight o'clock in the morning in this suburb of Los Angeles, but time and space, the real world, ceased to exist in Monica's house.
Heavy opaque curtains were drawn over the windows, shutting out all outside light. The lamps in the studio room were lit.
George wept. Monica put her boot on his shoulder, and pushed.
He toppled over and fell on his side. His cock was hard and red. He had gotten an erection when she stripped him and whipped him, and it was still as hard as ever.
She said, "Look at you. You're pathetic. You look like Humpty-Dumpty lying there."
He blubbered, "Mistress, I-"
"Shut up!"
Monica bent down and slapped his face. The impact stung her palm. It left a bright red imprint on his cheek.
She said, "Nobody gave you permission to speak, idiot! Keep your fucking mouth shut until I tell you to open it!"
He bobbed his head in agreement.
Monica gripped his nipple between her scarlet, sharp-pointed fingernails. She dug them into the nipple until George cried out in pain.
She slapped his face again. "I told you to keep quiet!"
He flinched as she grabbed his cock. She pushed him down so he was lying on his back on the carpet. She held his cock straight up.
It was hot against her cool palm. A blue vein on the shaft throbbed. She held the cock so that the head rose out of the top of her fist.
She said, "Christ, you're horny. A whipping doesn't make your cock go soft, it makes it harder. I bet you're dying to fuck me."
She toyed with his cock, sliding her long fingers up and down the shaft. His balls were swollen. He gasped when she fondled them.
Monica said, "Look at me."
She raised the hem of her nightie above her waist. Her pubic bush was thick and dark, a tangle of soft matted hair.
She didn't have to tell George to look at her pussy. He was doing that without having to be instructed.
Monica rubbed her pussy lips. Her index finger slipped between her labia. She was wet inside. Whipping slaves always affected her that way.
She withdrew her finger. It glistened with her juices. She said, "Open your mouth, and suck."
She stuck her finger into his mouth. He wrapped his lips around it. They were puckered. She shoved the finger in and out of his mouth.
"That's about all you're good forsucking," she said. "And if the truth be known, you don't do that too well, either."
His cock quivered against her palm. The finger slid in and out of his lips. His tongue worked on the finger.
Monica said, "I'm starting to wonder if you're worth the trouble of keeping as a slave. You're ugly. You look like a piece of shit when I put you in dresses. I've tried and tried to think of what good you can do me, and I just can't think of a thing."
"Lucky for you I'm so tender-hearted and generous. It would destroy you if I dropped you from my stable of slaves. What would you have to live for then, I wonder?
"Nothing, I'm sure. Because that's what you are-nothing. You're a zero, a cipher, a meaningless nullity. I don't even know why I bother with you."
While she spoke, she continued to fondle his balls. They were tight in the sac.
He made slurping sounds while he sucked her finger.
Monica said, "In addition to collecting cash tributes from you, I should get them from your wife, too. I'm doing her a great big favor."
"If she knew how kinky you are, she'd probably throw up. I'd like to see what would happen if you asked her to beat your ass, or do some of the things I do to you.
"She'd serve you with the divorce papers so fast your head would spin. She'd never have to work a day in her life. Your alimony payments would keep her in style.
"I wonder what she's doing today? Right now, she's probably getting ready for some little rendezvous scheduled for later in the day. She's making herself pretty for one of those handsome tennis pros, or golden beach boys that you've told me she likes so well.
"Just think, she'll be with one of them later. She'll get down on her knees and take his good stiff cock into her mouth and suck it. When he comes in her mouth, she'll gulp it all down.
"She wouldn't do that for you, though. I don't blame her. I'd never, never take that nasty thing in my mouth, no I wouldn't. My mouth will remain forever closed to you-and so will my pussy.
"Ah, that hurts, doesn't it? I'm so close to you, I'm sure you can smell my cunt. It's all wet inside. All I'd have to do is sit on that cock of yours, and fuck you till you're crazy.
"But I won't. Not ever. I take some of my slaves to bed and do all the things to them that you want me to do to you. Dream on, slave. It will never happen to you."
Monica released his cock and stood up. She crossed the studio floor to a large wooden cabinet on the opposite wall.
She opened the double doors of the cabinet. Inside were rows of drawers with little knobbed handles.
She pulled out one of the drawers. Inside it were many pairs of panties.
They were all extra-large in size, so they could fit on her male slaves. They came in all shapes and colors.
There were triangular cache-sexes, little more than G-strings. There were bikini style panties, baggy bloomers, satin tap pants.
The colors ranged from soft pastels like pink, pale blue, and beige, to lurid reds and blacks.
Monica selected a pair of pink panties with a large waist size. They were plain and not too expensive.
She returned to George. He hadn't moved. His hands were stretched out on the floor over his head.
She said, "I'm surprised that you didn't try to jerk off while my back was turned. You know that I'd beat your ass bloody if you did, but that's never stopped you before."
She knelt down. The deep-pile carpet was soft and furry against her skin.
"I don't want to risk getting any of your nasty come on my pretty nightie," she. said. "So I'll just take it off."
She pulled off the nightie and tossed it on a chair nearby. Now she was totally nude except for her high heels.
Her breasts were large and lush. Her skin was golden-bronze and gleaming, and she had an all-over tan. Her rich bronze coloring contrasted with her dark mane of hair, and her black pubic bush.
George stared at her. His chest rose and fell with slow, deep breathing.
Monica said, "I must be feeling rather merciful today. I'm going to permit you to come this morning."
He started to thank her, but she quickly cut him off: "Please, save your breath. I don't have the stomach to listen to your ramblings this morning. And I'm not in the mood to whip you again for speaking out of turn. So do yourself and me a favor, and shut up."
She dangled the panties over his face. "Do you like them? What a silly question, of course you do. They're somewhat cheap and tacky, but then, so are you."
She dropped the panties on his cock. She wrapped them around his member, then closed her hand around it.
She moved her hand up and down, rubbing the panties against his shaft. George stared up at her with adoring spaniel eyes, wet and brown.
As her hand worked on his cock, Monica's breasts bobbed and jiggled.
She said, "If I was doing this to any other slave, I'd sit on his face and make him eat me. But you're not entitled to that privilege, my pink and piggy one."
"I wish your wife Sylvia could see this. That would really be something. I'm sure she'd get a real laugh out of seeing one of the biggest men in Hollywood jerking off into a pair of panties.
"Of course, she might not be able to spare the time from her boyfriends. There's so many gorgeous young men who'd love to fuck her pussy and mouth and ass. And sooner or later, most of them will.
"But what did you expect, Georgie? Georgie Porgie? When a rich middle-aged man marries a hot young wife, he can expect just what you're getting-contempt.
"Maybe if Sylvia knew about the things you do with your mouth, she wouldn't be so selfish. She might share her boyfriends with you. When they get bored fucking her, they can come in your mouth."
Monica spoke slowly, in a kind of hypnotic chant. As she spoke she massaged his stiff cock with the panties.
Her last remarks were delivered in a hoarse, insinuating whisper. She moved her hand faster and faster.
George groaned, then shuddered. He squeezed his eyes shut, and whipped his head from side to side.
His cock quivered as he shot semen into the panties.
Monica arranged the panties on his shaft so that they would catch all his come.
George's face burned red. His eyes opened. They were rolled up in his head so that only the whites showed.
Monica gave him a few more tosses. The last drops of come were squeezed out of his swollen balls. They dribbled out of the glans of his cock.
She removed the panties. The cock head was oiled with semen. The red member jerked some more, and a final drop of semen oozed out of the tip.
Monica got up and put the panties on a whipping saw horse close at hand.
George's chest rose and fell with deep breathing. His plump belly rippled.
Monica crossed to the wooden cabinet. She took out a butt plug, a pair of handcuffs, a jar of lubricant, and two lengths of silken cloth.
She returned to the center of the room where George lay. She put down the implements on a table.
She kicked him in the flanks. "On your feet, Georgie girl!"
George sat up. His semi-erect cock fell against his thigh. He groaned from the effort of standing up.
Monica held up her finger and licked the underside of it. She ran the finger against her nipples. They glistened with saliva.
She said, "I bet you'd give anything-do anything, no matter how degrading it wasjust to be able to suck these titties."
She cupped her breasts, and lifted them. She fondled herself and shivered.
"Not for you, pig," she said. "But don't think that your mistress is neglecting you. I've planned a very full day for you-in the cage."
"No!" he said. "Not the cage, please!"
She slapped him. She did it with cool, clinical detachment. "That, outburst just bought you an extra hour in the cage."
"But, Mistress-"
She slapped him again. "Two extra hours. Want to try for three?" He shook his head no.
Monica scratched her head. "That's what amazes me about slaves like you. You know the rules, and then you deliberately break them. I warn you to keep your fucking mouth shut, so naturally you open it and say something stupid!
"Shit, you can't be that fucking dumb. The only answer is that you like to be punished. You break the rules so Mistress will hurt you some more.
"Well, let's see how much you like the punishment I've planned for you today. Hold out your hands."
George held out his hands. Monica clapped the gleaming handcuffs on his wrists and locked them into place.
She said, "If you won't restrain yourself willingly, Mistress will be more than glad to do it for you. If you can't voluntarily keep quiet, I'll just have to gag you!"
She took the pink panties he had come in, and wadded them up in a tight ball. "Open your mouth."
He looked sick, but he obeyed. Monica pushed the panties between his jaws.
She took one of the silken cords and jammed it into his mouth like a bit. It pressed against the panties, holding them tightly in place.
She stood in back of him, and pulled the cloth tight. It stretched the corners of his mouth into the parody of a leer.
She knotted the ends of the cord at the back of his head. She checked it to make sure that it was good and tight. It was.
At one corner of the studio sat an iron cage. It was three feet high, four feet long, and two feet wide.
It was made of iron bars welded together in a grid work. The square spaces between the bars were big enough to stick a hand through, and no bigger.
A padlock held the top of the cage in place, but it wasn't locked now. Monica slipped the padlock out of the eyebolts, and lifted the top of the cage.
She commanded George to lean forward. He bent forward from the waist, and leaned against the edge of the cage to support himself.
She showed him the butt plug. George turned white under his California tan.
Monica laughed. "That's right, you know what this is for, don't you? I've used this little toy on you before.
"It comes in handy, particularly with pigs like you who've been known to soil themselves. And I can't have you mussing my clean cage, can I?"
She opened the jar of lubricant. The goo was pale white. She dipped her fingers into it, and scooped out a fat dollop.
She made George spread his feet wider apart. She parted his plump buttocks. He winced at her rough handling of his whipped bottom.
Monica smeared the goo in the crack of his ass. His anus was brown and puckered. She stuffed plenty of the jelly into it.
She smeared the butt plug with the jelly. The goo glistened on the device.
George shivered when she touched the head of the plug to his anus. It quivered and contracted in reaction.
She shoved the plug past his tight sphincter muscle and into his rectum. George's grunt could be heard even through his panty gag.
Her fingers' were oily with the jelly. She wiped them clean on his bottom.
George was too out of shape to climb into the cage, so Monica opened one of the side panels as well.
"Into your kennel, dog," she said gaily. "If I sound happy, it's because I am. I won't have to look at ypur ugly face and body for a while."
George stepped into the cage. The floor of it was made of iron bars covered with a thin black rubber mat.
Monica pushed downward on his shoulder. "Down, boy."
George got on his knees. Inside the cage was a length of chain fastened to the bars. Monica looped the chain between his handcuffed wrists, and locked it into place.
"That way, you won't be able to remove the gag or the plug," she said. "Not to mention that you won't be able to jerk off, either, which I know you'd do just as soon as I left."
Monica patted his head on its bald spot. She lowered the cage top into place, and closed the side panel.
She slipped the prongs of the padlock through the eyebolts, and snapped the lock in place.
George was now sealed into the cage. He could neither stand nor lie down. All he could do was kneel or crouch.
Monica said, "Oh, one thing more that I forgot to mention in all the excitement. I'm going to be showing you off to some friends of mine later today. They could use a good laugh, and you fit the bill."
George's eyes widened with fear.
"Think about that while I'm gone," Monica said.
She lifted a large black velvet dropcloth, and covered the cage with it. It blocked the top and the sides, and fell in folds to the floor.
Now George would have to suffer in total darkness as well.
"Out of sight, out of mind," Monica said.
The most unpleasant part of the day was done, and early, too. She was a dominatrix professionally and personally.
She loved to dominate and mold beautiful male and female slaves, but rich and generous slaves like George helped pay the bills with their cash tributes.
She wished she had enough money so that she could retire professionally, and devote herself to training a stable of beautiful submissives who would serve her pleasure.
At any rate, the rest of the day's events would be more enjoyable. She had quite a full itinerary; it would be a busy and productive day.
She exited the studio, and went into her bedroom to get dressed.
Monica stepped into a one-piece black satin jumpsuit. It had a multiplicity of zippers, snaps, and buttons which could be opened and closed in various ways.
She didn't put on any undergarments. She liked the feel of satin on her naked flesh. Her breasts were firm and high, so she didn't need a bra for support.
A silver zipper ran from crotch to neck. She zipped it shut, leaving it open from the top of her chest to her throat.
It fit her like a second skin. Reflected highlights gleamed in the shimmering surface of the material, outlining the curves of her body.
She put on a pair of open-toed, high-heeled black shoes. She fastened the thin leather straps which ran across the top of her feet.
She opened her closet. It was stuffed with garments and costumes. She selected the. ones she would use today and tonight, and laid them out on a bed.
She opened a neat traveler's suitcase, and carefully packed her clothes and footgear and devices inside.
She sat at her vanity, turned on the lights that surrounded the mirror, and applied makeup to her face.
She used a light touch, since it was day. Later, she would apply it more dramatically, once night had come.
She brushed out her mane of black hair. It was thick and glossy and wavy. It crackled with static electricity when she ran the brush bristles through it.
She tossed the brush into the suitcase. A hair brush was always handy in her profession, whether for grooming or disciplinary purposes.
She took the phone off the hook, and dialed a number. It ran five times before being picked up on the other end.
A girl said, "Hello?"
"This is Monica. I'd like to speak to Whitey, please."
"Just a moment." Monica waited.
Whitey said, "Hello, Monica?"
She said, "I have a little job for you today, remember?"
"Sure, I didn't forget. When?"
"Now. I'll pick you up in a little while."
"Sure," Whitey said. "Do you want me to bring anything special, or dress in a particular way, or what?"
"Dress casually," she said. "Come as you are."
He laughed. "That's what I hope to do."
"I'm leaving now. Be ready for me," she said. She said goodbye, and hung up.
She closed the suitcase, picked up her pocketbook and slung the strap over her shoulder, and went outside.
It was a cool fall morning. Her heels click-clacked on the asphalt as she went down the walk to her car which was parked in the drive.
It was a red sports car. Red, the color of blood, life, and danger.
She slipped a pair of sunglasses on. They had mirror lenses. They worked on the same principle as two-way glass-she could see through them, but anyone looking into them would just see a reflection of himself.
She started up the car with a roar, and "drove away.
Traffic was moderate on the freeway. So was the smog. The winds were a Godsend, since they kept the L.A. air moving, so the smog couldn't settle.
She drove for a quarter-hour. She exited the freeway, and pulled into the gravel driveway of a mobile home court.
Mobile homes like rectangular boxes sat perched on concrete blocks, trailing water pipes and telephone lines.
Sitting on the stone front steps of a brown and white mobile home was a young man of twenty-five.
He wore jeans and a white Mexican shirt with delicate embroidery on the neck and chest. He stood up when he saw Monica's car.
He was six feet tall, weighed about a hundred and seventy pounds. He had broad shoulders, narrow hips, and a lean, athletic frame.
His hair was soft and fine and so blonde that it was almost white-which gave him his nickname, Whitey.
His eyebrows were the same pale, platinum color. They contrasted with his deep tan. He had a mouthful of white, gleaming, even-capped teeth.
The door to the mobile home opened. A young girl stood in the doorframe, partially hidden in shadow. She was lean and willowy, with long brown hair.
Whitey got in on the passenger side of the car. The girl waved goodbye to him. He blew her a kiss.
Monica turned the car around, and headed back for the freeway.
"Pretty girl," she said. "Who is she?"
"That's June," he said.
"She your girlfriend?"
"We're, uh, good friends."
"Does she know about me?" Monica asked.
"A little," Whitey said.
"She know what you're going to be doing this morning?"
"A little," he repeated. "I gave her the basic idea, but I didn't go into the raw details."
"What does she think about that?"
"She likes it," he said. "The whole thing turns her on."
"Is she kinky?"
"She has her moments. She's submissive. She likes me to tie her hands and make like I'm forcing her."
"She's cute," Monica said.
"Yeah, I thought you'd like her."
"You'll have to introduce us."
"I will." Whitey chuckled. "That would be something to see, you and June getting it on."
"Careful," Monica warned. "I might teach her to dominate you, whip your ass."
"I'd like that."
"I'm sure you would," she laughed.
She drove up high into the brown hills. Los Angeles, City of Angels, sprawled out in the valley below. A vast network of roads and highways partitioned the jumbled buildings and residential tracts. The smog was light, a hazy gray vapor hovering over the valley.
Monica explained the scene to Whitey. He got the idea quick enough.
A number of smaller roads branched off the main trunk road. Monica followed one of those roads up into a small canyon.
It was a dead end, a cul-de-sac. There was a handsome house at the end of it. Monica pulled into the driveway, and parked in front of the white-columned facade.
She killed the engine. "Here we are."
Whitey was looking at her intently.
Monica said, "Why are you staring at me?"
He grinned. "I'm not used to seeing you in the daylight-not this early, anyway."
"Tell me about it. This is the earliest I've been up in years. But things just happened so that I have a lot of appointments today, so I had to start early. Hell, one of my slaves needed it so badly, that I was whipping his ass at seven o'clock this morning."
She got out of the car. "I'll go set things up."
"She's expecting you?"
"Yes. You wait here until I signal you to come in."
"Okay."
Monica crossed the walk and went up the front stairs and rang the doorbell.
The door was opened by a handsome woman in a French maid's uniform. She was very fine, very attractive.
She was about thirty-five. She was of medium height, with full, pointed breasts, long legs, and a rounded bottom.
She wore a red satin uniform. It fit her tightly, and her breasts were clearly outlined against the material.
The skirt was very short, and barely came down to the tops of her thighs. She wore dark stockings and red patent leather high heels.
The uniform was short-sleeved. A lacey white apron was fastened around her waist, and hung in the front of the skirt.
The woman's face was elegant and delicately boned, with high cheekbones, sunken cheeks, and exquisitely formed features.
Her hair was golden--natural blonde, Monica's keen eyes told her. The woman's hair was primly pinned up at the top of her head. She wore an old-fashioned lacey maid's cap.
Monica and the woman stared at each other. Monica was bold and unblinking. Finally, the woman blushed, and looked down.
She said, "Are you Monica?" Her voice was soft and hesitant and shy.
"Yes, I'm Monica. And you are-Felicia?"
"Yes."
"Is the lady of the house at home?"
"No, I'm afraid she isn't. I'm here all alone," Felicia said.
"May I come in? I'd like to leave a message for your employers."
"Please do." Felicia opened the door wider.
It was cool in the house, out of the sun's direct rays. The house was handsomely furnished and tastefully appointed. Monica appraised the place quickly with a practiced eye.
Felicia shut the door. Her hands trembled. Monica said, "I love your little uniform, dear."
"You're very kind."
"Not at all," Monica laughed, "not at all. Still, I'd say that it couldn't be very practical for carrying out your domestic duties."
"Why do you say that?"
Monica fumbled with her pocketbook, and let it drop to the floor. Felicia bent over quickly and picked it up and held it out to her.
Monica said, "That's what I meant about the uniform being impractical. When you bent over, the skirt rode up. I saw your panties and the garter belt you're wearing."
Felicia blushed.
"They were very pretty," Monica said. "Tell me-do you actually perform domestic duties, or do your employers keep you for more ... intimate chores?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Don't be naive, dear. You're very attractive. You wouldn't be the first maid who earns her keep by pleasing her master and mistress where it counts-in bed."
"I resent that!" Felicia said.
"Methinks the lady doth protest too, too much," Monica said. She took hold of the red satin skirt, and felt the material between thumb and forefinger.
She said, "That's a very charming outfit. I keep some of my ladies in outfits like that, and some of my men, too."
Felicia said, "I think you'd better leave, madame."
"I don't." She moved closer to Felicia. Felicia backed away, but Monica kept advancing.
Felicia backed into the wall, and then there was nowhere to run. Monica put her hands on the wall at either side of the maid, blocking her in.
Felicia stammered, "What-what do you want from me?"
Monica licked her lips. "You're pretty."
"Please let me go ... "
"If I don't, what are you going to do about it?"
"I'll call for help!"
"But there's no one home, you said. Just you-and me."
Monica put her open hands on Felicia's face. She crushed her lips against the maid's in a passionate kiss.
Felicia's lips were soft and sweet. She wasn't wearing any lipstick or makeup. Her eyes were wide with fear.
Monica put her hand on Felicia's breast, and rubbed it. Felicia kept her jaws shut, not opening them so Monica couldn't thrust her tongue inside. Monica ran her tongue over Felicia's teeth. The maid squirmed in her arms.
Monica broke off the cruel kiss. Red spots of color burned in Felicia's cheeks, but the rest of her tan had faded, and she looked pale.
Felicia moaned, "What are you doing?"
"Your job is to serve, isn't it? Well, you can serve me, you pretty bitch!"
Monica put her hand on Felicia's leg. She rubbed her palm against the nyloned flesh. She slid her hand up the maid's dress.
Felicia said, "No! I'm not like that! I'm not one of those kind!"
"You will be before I leave here today," Monica promised.
Felicia struggled, but not too hard. Monica gripped the maid's wrists and lifted them over her head, pinning them to the wall.
Felicia whispered, "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to fuck you, pretty lady."
Monica fondled Felicia's breasts through the uniform. Felicia gasped and writhed. Monica reached under her skirt and fondled her panty-clad bottom.
Monica said, "For a serving wench, you're sorely in need of a lesson in manners. That's a lesson I'll be only too glad to give you!"
Monica twisted Felicia's arm behind her back. She pushed the arm up between the maid's shoulder blades.
Felicia moaned in pain. Her face tautened, and the muscles in her neck corded. She rose on tiptoes to take some of the strain off her arm.
Monica walked her to the nearest chair in the living room. Felicia made small whimpering sounds.
Monica said, "When one of my servant girls gets uppity, I use a good, old-fashioned spanking to put her in her place!"
"No, please, Madame, no!" Felicia cried.
Monica sat down and pulled Felicia face down over her lap. She lifted the maid's red satin skirt.
Felicia wore a few thin white petticoats as well. Monica lifted them along with the skirt, raising them up to her back.
Felicia had on a pair of red satin panties, and a black lace garter belt.
Monica said, "I love your outfit, dear. You've a red dress, and panties of the same color. Now you'll have a red ass, too!"
She yanked down the panties, baring Felicia's bottom. Unlike the rest of her, it was mild-white and untanned from the sun. It contrasted with the rest of her golden flesh.
The ass was . plump and dimpled and heart-shaped. The twin soft globes of white flesh were full and rounded, and split vertically down the middle by her crack.
Monica rubbed and kneaded, the buttocks. Felicia writhed and panted on her knees, but made no move to escape. The undersides of her breasts rubbed against Monica's thigh.
Monica moved the maid around on her lap, putting her buttocks in the best position for a spanking.
Monica reached between the maid's legs, and touched her hairy pussy. "Hmmmmm, what have we here?"
"Please don't, please!" Felicia closed her legs and held them shut. Her long legs tautened with tension, and the muscles rippled under the nylons.
"Don't worry, I'll get to that part of you all in good time," Monica said. "But first I'm going to redden your ass some, wench!"
She put her arm around Felicia's waist, holding her tightly, and keeping the red skirt and panties pinned up over her ass.
Monica brought down her open hand hard on Felicia's bottom. There was a loud smacking sound when flesh hit flesh.
Felicia cried out. Her buttocks quivered. A bright red mark was imprinted on her buttock where the hand had struck her.
Monica warmed to her task. Her hand rose and fell again, and again, and again. With each strike, the white flesh of Felicia's behind became more and more red.
Felicia wriggled on her lap. Monica beat her bottom. She had a hard hand, and a strong arm.
Felicia's maid's cap loosened, and flopped down over her face. She gasped and panted and pleaded for mercy.
Monica ignored her cries. She gave Felicia twenty-five hard spanks, and five more for good measure.
When she stopped, her hand stung her. Felicia's buttocks were a deep rose color. They were framed by the black lace garter belt, the rolled red satin panties, and the dark nylons.
Felicia snivelled and snurfled. Her face was red and tear-stained. A fat tear spilled from her eye, and rolled down her cheek. Her lips were parted. Her shoulders heaved with soft sobs. .
Monica said, "I hope that taught you a lesson!"
"Please don't spank me anymore," Felicia said. "I'll do anything you want-anything!"
Monica reached between Felicia's legs. Felicia tightened up, so Monica gave her a good hard smack on the bottom.
Felicia opened her legs. Monica said, "That's better. If a hand spanking won't teach you to obey, I'll take a strap to your ass next!"
"Please, please don't do that! I-I forgot myself!"
"See that you don't do it again."
Felicia moaned when Monica's finger prodded her pussy.
Monica toyed with the hairs on the maid's cunt, winding them into curls, then letting them go and watching them unwind.
She stroked the soft pussy lips, then slipped her finger between them. Felicia was wet inside, wet and dripping.
Monica said, "What have we here? It looks like you're one of those types who get turned on by being spanked!"
Monica patted Felicia's bottom. It was warm to the touch. She told Felicia to get off her lap, and kneel at her feet on the floor.
Felicia knelt on the carpet. Light gleamed on the wet tear tracks on her face.
Monica looked down at her. "Are you going to be a good little girl from now on?"
"Y-yes."
Monica corrected her. "You must say yes, Mistress."
"Yes, Mistress. I-I'll be a good girl."
"I am your mistress and your master today. I'll teach you how to obey. Where's the bedroom?"
"In the west wing."
"Take me there."
Felicia stood up. She put her hands on her buttocks, and rubbed her red bottom.
Monica said, "Keep your panties down, and hold your skirt above your waist."
"Why?"
Monica swatted her bottom "Servants don't ask 'why?'. They don't ask any questions at all. They just do what they're told."
Felicia gripped her skirt hem, and lifted it high. In the front, the panties had dropped down so-that her pubic bush showed.
Monica rubbed the back of her hand against the pubic hair. "Just like I thought, you're a natural blonde. Let's go."
She followed Felicia across the living room, under an archway, and down a long hall.
Felicia's beaten bottom wiggled from side to e as she walked. Monica licked her lips.
The bedroom was spacious and luxurious. The bed was oversized, and covered with a soft, yielding mattress.
Monica stood in back of Felicia. She reached around to her front, and put her hands against the maid's breasts.
She pressed her pelvis against Felicia's red ass. Felicia moaned softly.
Monica said, "Your uniform is oh so pretty, but you've got too many clothes on for my taste."
The red satin uniform zipped up the back. Monica pulled the zipper down from the nape of the neck, to the small of the back.
She peeled the uniform off Felicia, caressing her smooth flesh as she did so. She pulled the uniform off her hips and down her legs.
Felicia wore a black lace bra. The cups were decorated with frilly and elaborate embroidery of floral designs.
Monica unhooked the bra, and slipped the support straps off the maid's shoulders. Felicia's lush breasts tumbled free from the confining cups.
Monica said, "Don't tell me you don't love this. Your nipples are hard."
She touched the nipple. It was pink and stiff and throbbed against her fingertip.
Monica lightly caressed the curve of Felicia's shoulders. Felicia shivered.
"I won't hurt you," Monica said, "as long as you do what you're told, wench. And you will do what you're told, won't you?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"That's my good girl." Monica patted Felicia's ass.
She turned Felicia around so that they were face to face. Felicia wouldn't look her in the eye. She stared down at her feet.
Monica said, "You won't need those panties."
She pulled the panties free of Felicia's hips. The flimsy red undies fluttered to the floor.
Monica said, "That garter belt and stockings and shoes can stay. They're very cute, very kinky."
She embraced Felicia. "You're going to be a good, obedient miss."
"Yes, Mistress."
"Open your mouth."
Felicia parted her soft pink lips. Monica clamped her mouth over Felicia's. She thrust her tongue deep into Felicia's mouth.
Felicia squirmed, but did not resist. Her tongue lay still and unmoving in her mouth. Monica rubbed her tongue against it, and tasted the sweetness of her.
She cupped Felicia's breast in the palm of her hand. The breast was soft and yielding, with a solid, hefty feel to it.
Monica played with the stiff nipple, pinching it lightly between her fingernails.
She fondled Felicia's flat belly. Her hand glided over the lace flounces of the garter belt, and reached for the maid's pussy.
She slipped her finger between Felicia's pussy lips. Felicia was wet inside. Monica slid her middle finger deep inside.
It glided over the sleek pink membranes. She sloshed it around, working it back and forth, in and out.
She took her finger out. It dripped with juices. Monica wiped it clean on Felicia's golden thigh above the stocking top.
Monica said. "Rope. I want some rope."
"There-there's some in the bottom drawer of that dresser over there, Mistress."
Monica put her hand against Felicia's breasts, and pushed. Felicia stepped back. The edge of the bed hit the backs of her knees. Monica pushed some more, and Felicia sat down on the mattress. She winced as her bottom touched down.
Monica found the rope where Felicia had said it would be. It was a length of thin but strong rope, the kind used for clotheslines and such.
Monica lifted an eyebrow "Do you always keep rope in your bedroom? Hmmm, I wonder what you use it for?"
Felicia sat on the very edge of the bed, putting as little weight on her sore behind as possible Her legs were pressed together, concealing her pussy. She crossed her arm over her chest, covering her nipples. Her breasts were so full that the soft flesh oozed between the open spaces.
The rope was too long. Monica reached into one of her pockets and took out a pocket knife. .
She unfolded the blade, and cut some shorter lengths of rope. She let the rest of the loop drop to the floor.
She said, "Hold our your hands in front of you."
Felicia obeyed. Her breasts bobbed and jiggled. Monica crossed the maid's wrists, threw a loop over them, and pulled it tight.
She passed some hitches over the loop and knotted them. She made the knots tight but not too tight.
She lifted the maid's bound hands, and examined where the ropes met flesh. It was good. Felicia was securely bound, but not so much that the ropes cut into her flesh.
Monica took another length of rope, a piece about eight feet long. She made an adjustable slip noose at one end.
She dropped the noose over Felicia's head, and pulled it snug, so that the rope rested against her pulsing throat without choking her.
"I keep my slaves on a short leash," Monica said.
She slipped her finger through the silver ring which was attached to the front zipper of the jumpsuit.
She slowly pulled down the zipper. The solid black front of the jumpsuit divided along the seam of the zipper into two halves.
She opened the zipper, revealing the soft rounded swell of her breasts, her taut belly, her perfect navel, and the thick bush of her pussy.
She lifted her foot, and rested the sole of the shoe on Felicia's thigh. She undid the strap, and took off the shoe.
She did the same with the other shoe. When she was barefoot, she let the jumpsuit slide down her legs, and stepped out of it.
Felicia stared at her. Her eyes gleamed. She ran her tongue tip over her pink lips.
Monica said, "Do you like my body?"
"You're ... very beautiful," Felicia said. "But what are you going to do with me?"
"I'm not the one who's going to be doing something, you are."
Monica took hold of the rope fastened around Felicia's neck. She pulled upward on it. "Stand up."
Felicia rose. Her legs trembled, and her nyloned knees knocked together.
Monica pulled down the blankets, and lay down on the designer sheets. She propped up a pillow under her head.
She spread her legs wide. She tugged downward on the leash. "Lie down on your belly between my legs."
Felicia lay down with her bound hands under her breasts. She moved so that her face was poised a few inches away from Monica's pussy.
Monica said, "Eat me, wench "
She put her hand on the back of Felicia's head, and pushed her face into her pussy. Felicia's gasp was muffled.
Felicia's lips rubbed Monica's pussy lips. Felicia lost her inhibitions. She rubbed her cheeks from side to side against Monica's pubic bush.
"You're so beautiful, Mistress," she murmured.
"I taste as good as I look," Monica said. "But don't believe me, find out for yourself."
She pushed Felicia's head down. Felicia slipped her tongue inside Monica's pussy. Monica was wet and hot inside.
Felicia licked the soft, sleek membranes, lapping up the juices.
She made soft liquid sounds as she sucked. Her lips and tongue worked hard.
My clitoris, Monica sighed, "tongue my clit."
Felicia's tongue glided up Monica's slot, and pressed against the clitoris. It was a pearly button of flesh.
Felicia circled the node of flesh with her tongue tip. She flicked her tongue back and forth over the clitoris.
Monica relaxed. Felicia was a most accomplished pussy eater. Her tonguing sent sparks of pleasure through Monica.
The tongue worked on the pulsing clitoris. It kindled heat in Monica's pussy, heat which radiated through her loins, and up into her belly.
Monica arched her bottom, and thrust her pussy against Felicia's mouth.
She liked looking at the maid's red bottom. The cheeks wiggled and jounced as Felicia went down on Monica.
Felicia pressed her lips against the clitoris and sucked gently, so that the node was pressed between the moist lips.
Holding it in place, she whipped her tongue back and forth over it.
Monica sighed deeply. Her hips moved in response to the rhythm of the tongue.
Time passed.
Monica's golden flesh glowed with pleasure. Her eyes were glazed and shining. Tiny beads of sweat glittered on her smooth forehead.
She fondled her own breasts while Felicia ate her. She pinched her nipples and rubbed the soft mounds of flesh.
A tight knot of tension twisted in her belly. The muscles in her taut thighs flexed.
Felicia ran her tongue over the clitoris with mechanical precision, never missing a beat. Monica was brought closer and closer to the edge of orgasm.
Then she tumbled over the edge.
Heat rose in her pussy like a fireball Monica groaned and pressed her thighs against Felicia's head.
Monica shivered. Her breasts trembled as she took deep, panting breaths.
Ecstasy rippled through her. Felicia's tongue continued to work on her clitoris. But the orgasm sensitized her, and the tonguing was now too intense.
Monica opened her thighs, and pushed Felicia's face away from her pussy.
White light traveled from her pussy to her spine, then detonated inside her head.
Monica cried out, then fell back on the sweat-damp sheets.
She lay still for a moment, savoring the warm, buoyant afterglow.
Felicia looked up at her. Her mouth was wet, and her face glistened with Monica's pussy juices, and her own saliva.
After a while, Monica sat up. She uncurled like a cat in the sun, and stretched luxuriantly.
Felicia asked, "Did I please you, Mistress?"
Monica patted her head. "Yes, you did."
Monica felt loose and relaxed, like she had been soaking in a hot tub for hours. She brushed her hair off her forehead and got up.
She untied Felicia's hands.
The maid said, "May I-may I ask what you're going to do to me, Mistress?"
"You did something nice for me, so I'm going to return the favor. Lie down on the bed on your back."
Felicia did as she was told. Once again, she winced when the weight of her body rested on her beaten buttocks.
Monica took some lengths of rope, and went to her. She slipped a noose around Felicia's wrist, and pulled it tight. Then she tied the rope to one of the legs of the bed.
Felicia said, "You don't have to tie me, Mistress. I will obey you."
Monica pressed her finger against Felicia's lips. "Shhhh. No talking, now."
She tied Felicia spread-eagled to the bed. The maid's legs were open wide, and there was a rope around each ankle. Each rope was tied to a leg of the bed.
Monica looked down at the maid. Her hands and feet were securely tied.
She stepped into her jumpsuit, and pulled it on. She zipped up the front.
Alarmed, Felicia said, "You're not going to leave me, Mistress?!"
"I'll be right back," Monica said. "Don't go away."
She didn't bother to put on shoes. She wasn't going very far.
She padded down the hall and through the living room. She opened the front door.
The sunlight was very bright. She squinted. It was a hot day, made tolerable by the steady breeze which was blowing.
Whitey didn't see her, so she went to her car. He was reading a well thumbed paperback edition of the collected writings of various German philosophers of the late 18th and early 19th century.
The driveway was rough and hot and pebbly against Monica's bare feet. Whitey looked up when her shadow fell on him.
She said, "I've had my fun. Now, it's your turn."
He put the book on the floor, and got out of the car. "What's she like?"
"Very pretty. Big tits. You'll like her."
"I'm sure." He looked like a wolf when he grinned.
He followed Monica into the house. She shut and locked the door.
"Nice place," Whitey remarked.
"Shhh," Monica said. "Take off your clothes."
Whitey shrugged, and peeled off his shirt. He had broad shoulders, and a well muscled chest.
He kicked off his sneakers and socks. He reached for his belt buckle.
"Here, let me do that," Monica said. She spoke in a near-whisper.
She unbuckled his belt, opened his jeans, and pulled down the zipper. He wasn't wearing underpants.
She tugged the tight jeans off his hips and pulled them down his legs. He had a long, dangling cock and a light-brown pubic bush.
The jeans fell to his ankles, and he stepped out of them.
Monica found her pocketbook, which lay on the living room floor. She opened it and took out a black half-mask, the kind that masqueraders and trick-or-treaters use.
She said, "Put this on."
Whitey slipped the mask on over his face. It had an elastic string which held it in place. It covered him from forehead to nose, and. had twin eyeholes cut in it.
He whispered, "I feel kind of silly in this thing."
"You'll feel even sillier in diapers and plastic panties, which is just where I'm going to put you if you keep interjecting your comments!"
"Sorry, Mistress."
"Hmmmmmm ... I notice that your cock just started to hard when I said I'd make you a diaper baby."
The part of Whitey's face that wasn't covered with the mask flushed with a deep red blush.
He said, "You know that I love anything you do to me, Mistress."
"Maybe I will put you in diapers at that. I bet that pretty little girlfriend of yours would love to see you like that!"
Whitey's cock jerked and quivered. It thickened and lengthened until it sprouted into a firm, hard erection.
Monica smiled. "You see? A demonstration of mind over matter. You got hard without my even touching you."
She took hold of his cock. It was stiff and warm against her palm. She reached behind him and fondled his ass.
She put her lips near his ear. "You're a sweet slave." She stuck out her tongue, and licked the inside of his ear so that he squirmed.
She said, "I guess you're more than ready now!"
"Oh yeah!"
She said, "For your information, the mask is for her benefit, not for yours or mine. She's the type who has to be forced, or pretend to be forced, to enjoy it. The mask makes you anonymous-a fantasy figure out of her dreams."
"You should enjoy her. She's sweet and pretty. Just remember not to speak." He said, "I understand."
"Good. Let's go."
Monica gripped his cock, and led him to the bedroom. Whitey dutifully trotted behind her.
The bedroom was closed, as she had left it. "Wait here for a second," she said to Whitey.
He stood to one side, so the woman on the bed wouldn't see him when the door was opened. He held his cock and slowly stroked the shaft while he waited.
Monica entered the bedroom. Felicia lifted her head off the mattress, and craned her neck to look at Monica.
Felicia said, "I was afraid that you'd forgotten me, Mistress!"
"Not at all," Monica said, "not at all."
She stood at the foot of the bed, where Felicia could see her. She teased her by slowly unzipping the jumpsuit, revealing her body inch by inch.
She took off the jumpsuit and stood naked, idly fondling her own breasts. "I have a little surprise for you, dear."
She opened the door. Whitey stood outlined in the open door frame, naked and muscular, masked, and gripping his hard cock.
Felicia shrieked, "Who--who's he?!"
"My slave," Monica said, "just like you are."
Whitey entered the room and stared down at the woman bound to the bed. He licked his lips.
Felicia started to cry. "No, please, no-" Monica sat on the bed beside her, and fondled Felicia's breasts. Felicia writhed in her bonds.
Whitey padded to the side of the bed. Felicia turned her head away from him.
Monica gripped her head, and turned it so Felicia was staring up at the nude man.
She said, "Look at him, Felicia. He's hard and ready for you."
"No!"
"Yes."
Whitey knelt on the bed. He straddled Felicia's head, with his folded legs bracketing her so she couldn't move her head.
His hard cock dangled inches away from her face. Felicia closed her eyes and moaned.
Whitey lightly rested his firm bottom on her chest, but his weight was on his legs, not her. His balls were swollen in the sac.
Monica said, "Suck him, slave. Take that good, hard cock in your mouth and suck it!"
Felicia clamped her jaws shut.
Monica pinched the maid's nostrils shut. Felicia held her breath until her face purpled. She opened her mouth to breath.
Whitey stuffed his cock inside it.
Felicia ceased resisting when the cock contacted her mouth. She groaned in dismay, but she took the knobbed head between her lips and sucked it.
Monica released her grip, and smoothed down Felicia's hair.
Felicia looked up at the big cock which sprouted from Whitey's hips to plunge into her mouth.
She made sucking sounds as she twirled and swirled the cock in her mouth. Whitey gripped his member, and rubbed the head against the roof of her mouth.
Whitey leaned forward so he could feed more of his cock into her mouth. Felicia opened wide.
Her pink lips wrapped around his shaft. Blue veins throbbed against her lips. The shaft went deeper inside her.
Whitey rocked back and forth, back and forth, fucking her mouth like it was a pussy.
Felicia sucked. Some saliva dribbled out of the corner of her mouth, and down her chin.
Monica said, "That's enough. Fuck her pussy."
Whitey took his cock out of her mouth. Felicia wetly kissed the swollen cock head, and flicked her tongue tip across the tiny hole in the glans. , Whitey stretched out on top of her. Her lush breasts were pressed flat against his muscular chest.
He caressed her stocking legs, and fondled the smooth, butter-soft skin above the dark nylon tops.
Felicia moaned, "Yes, yes, fuck me! Rape me, hurt me, make me your whore!"
Whitey's cock rubbed against her furry bush. He gripped his cock, and guided the head to her soft pussy lips.
He gasped when his cock touched her soft pink petals. The blunt, wedge-shaped head pushed the cunt lips to the sides, so that they folded over on themselves.
Whitey lodged the cock head in her. He thrust forward, snaking his cock deep inside her.
Felicia cried out. She wrapped her hands around the ropes binding her wrists to the bed, and held on to them like a drowner gripping a lifeline.
Whitey thrust deep, so that the base of his shaft was pressed against her labia. His swollen balls slapped the pussy lips as he rocked hack and forth, pumping his cock in and out of her.
She was wet and lubricated, but he was so big that it was a tight fit for him. He liked the way her cunt gripped his cock, like a mitten of hot wet velvet.
Felicia opened her eyes so they were wide and staring. She gasped as Monica straddled her and sat on her face.
Monica was turned so that she was facing Whitey. She lowered herself on Felicia's sweating, upturned face.
Felicia's weak murmurs of protest were muffled as Monica's hairy pussy touched down on her face.
Felicia extended her tongue, and stabbed it up into Monica's pussy.
Monica wriggled her hips, loving it. Meanwhile, Whitey continued to fuck the bound woman, thrilling her with his deep-thrusting, hard-driving strokes.
Monica savored the kinkiness of it all. She loved watching the nude, muscular masked man thrust his hard, hot cock into' the restrained Felicia's pussy.
Monica played with her breasts while Felicia tongued her. The tongue was a live, wet, hot squirming thing in her pussy that lashed pleasure into her with every quivering move it made.
Whitey's broad back heaved as he panted for breath. Sweat streamed down the corded muscles of his shoulders and upper back.
His taut belly slapped against Felicia's as he thrust into her again and again. Her moans vibrated against Monica's pussy lips.
Whitey reached under Felicia, and cupped her bottom cheeks in his strong hands. He held her hips in place as he slammed his cock into her again and again.
Felicia's legs thrashed. She drummed the heels of her shoes against the mattress.
Whitey came.
His eyes bulged behind the eyelets of the mask. His mouth was open in a wide O. He squeezed Felicia's soft bottom as he thrust deep into her.
Semen jetted from his cock and gushed over her heated pussy walls. Felicia's nyloned legs thrashed like snakes crawling across hot roads.
Monica was close to the edge. She pinched her nipples and rubbed her clitoris.
She orgasmed.
Gasping and red-faced, Whitey sank down on Felicia. He kneaded her trembling breasts, and covered them with hot, wet kisses.
His cock quivered inside her as the last drops of semen were squeezed out.
Monica shut her eyes, and shuddered. A heat wave rippled through her. Her breasts rose and fell with the deep breaths she took.
Motion ceased. There was silence as the bedsprings ceased creaking, and the wooden bedframe stopped rocking.
Time passed. The only sounds were the soft hiss of air being forced into gasping lungs.
Monica climbed off Felicia. Felicia's face was wet and red. Monica's pubic bush was wet and matted with her saliva.
Felicia moaned, "Oh, oh, oh God, that was so good, so god-damned good!"
Monica slapped Whitey's ass. "Get up and get dressed and wait for me in the car. I'll finish up here."
Felicia made a sound of disappointment as Whitey pulled back his hips, withdrawing his cock from inside her.
His member was red and semi-erect. It glistened with semen and pussy juices.
Standing at the foot of the bed, he silently bowed to Felicia, then turned and exited the room.
"Goodbye, beautiful stranger," Felicia sighed.
Monica untied Felicia's bonds, then kissed her.
Felicia said, "That was so good, Monica. The best yet."
Monica smiled. "Wait 'till next time, love."
"I can't wait. If I didn't have you to take care of me, I wouldn't be able to carry on."
Monica caressed her thighs. "That's sweet. Console yourself with this thought-one week from now, I'll come to you again, like I always do."
"It seems like an eternity."
"For me, too. But I have to go now, Felicia."
Monica checked the clock on the cabinet top. She was running a bit behind schedule, but she didn't begrudge the extra time she had spent with Felicia.
Felicia was one of her favorite clients.
Monica went into the bathroom and freshened up. When she came out, Felicia sat on the bed, chafing her wrists and ankles.
Monica put on her jumpsuit and zipped it up.
Felicia said, "Your check's on the desk, tucked into a corner of the blotter."
Monica folded the green check, and put it in her breast pocket. As always, Felicia had been generous, and more than generous.
Felicia said, "The stranger was beautiful, Monica, just beautiful."
"Yes, I'm rather fond of him myself," Monica chuckled.
"That was an excellent touch, one I wasn't expecting at all."
"Wait 'till next time," Monica said. "Maybe I'll have two men with me."
"That would be fabulous."
"Or maybe I'll force you to serve a whole room of men. They'll tie you down and take turns raping your mouth and your pussy and your ass."
Felicia shivered with delight. "That would be even better."
"Think about what I'm going to do to you the next time we're together."
"I'll be counting the hours."
"So will I," Monica assured her.
Felicia said, "I can feel that masked man's come oozing in my pussy."
"Think of it as a souvenir. Are you going to get up?"
"I'm so exhausted, I think I'll sleep for the rest of the day "
Monica took off Felicia's shoes, tucked her into bed, and kissed her goodbye.
She said, "I'll let myself out, so don't worry about getting up."
She went to the bedroom door. Felicia said, "Monica?"
"Yes?"
"Who was that masked man, anyway?"
"A dream," Monica said. "It was all a dream. Now, go to sleep, my pretty one."
She shut off the lights, and closed the door.
The sun was high and hot, and she sweated inside her jumpsuit as she walked to the car.
Whitey was dressed and maskless and sitting in the passenger seat.
Monica started up the car.
Whitey said, "You were right-that was one sweet lady!"
"Wild lady."
"Don't try and tell me that she was the maid!"
"The maid?" Monica laughed. "Felicia's one of the richest women in L.A. But she gets off on pretending that she's a humble little maidservant who's forced to be a sex slave. That's one of her kinks. She's got plenty of others."
She beeped the horn to signal goodbye to Felicia in the house, then drove away.
Whitey said, "So you had it all arranged beforehand, eh?"
"Yes. I know Felicia's needs, and we always set up the scenario before we get together."
"That's a relief. As wild as you are, not even you would have bound and raped a total stranger-or would you?"
"What do you think?" Monica asked him.
Whitey looked at her. "Maybe you would at that!"
CHAPTER TWO
The red car stopped in front of a big black gate. The huge sign over the gate proclaimed: PANDARO PICTURES.
The uniformed guard took Monica's name and went back into the shack. He called the main desk to see if she had been cleared to enter.
A moment later, he slipped a visitor's pass under the windshield wiper, so it would be prominently displayed. Then he waved the red car through.
Whitey said, "They've got this place guarded tight enough."
"Everybody wants to be in pictures," Monica said.
"Shit, I've been in movies-plenty of them "
Monica laughed. "The kind of movies you've done aren't the kind that get shown in regular theaters to family audiences."
"I always say that there's got to be something wrong with a picture the whole family can enjoy, " Whitey said.
Inside the lot. was a complex of rectangular buildings. They had beige-colored walls and few, if any, windows. These were the sound stages, where the shooting for motion pictures and television features were done.
It was lunchtime, and the streets were filled with actors and actresses and bit players and extras. They were costumed for the roles in the films they were making.
They made a strange parade of cowboys, ballerinas, space-suited futurists, Roman centurions, can-can dancers. The studio was making a jungle picture, and four guys in gorilla suits lumbered down the street on the way to the commissary.
Monica got directions as to where the feature, "Jolly Rogers" was filming. It was a pirate picture, a musical with a big cast.
She parked the car and told Whitey to wait for her. He got out and leaned against the front fender and watched the passing parade.
Monica went inside and gave her name to the receptionist at the main desk.
The receptionist, a gorgeous young lady (even the janitors working for the studio were gorgeous) looked in her appointment pad.
She said, "Oh yes, Mr. Buxton is expecting you. I'll notify him you're here."
A few moments later, a balding, florid, middle-aged man hurried down the hall.
Monica said, "Max."
Max Buxton took her hand and shook it. His hand was sweaty, and his eyes were bloodshot.
He said, "Thank God you're here, Monica. You're just in time."
Monica sighed. "What's the crisis this time, Max?"
"It's Lucinda, what else? She's throwing another one of her famous wing-dings. She's locked herself in her dressing room and won't come out."
The agent mopped his sweating forehead with a damp handkerchief. "It's bad enough when she gets these attacks of stage fright when she's making a record. But when she's making a picture, and each day lost of shooting can cost ten, twenty thousand-it's murder!"
Monica patted his shoulder. "Set your mind at ease, Max. I'll set everything right as rain."
"I hope so."
"How much time do we have until afternoon shooting starts?"
Max checked his watch. "They won't need Lucinda for another hour yet."
"That will be time enough. Is there somewhere around here where I can change?"
"Monica, there's nothing around here but changing rooms! Follow me."
Max led her down the hall to a dressing room. Monica said, "I'll be right out."
She locked the door, and unzipped her jump suit. Inside her carrying case was the outfit she had selected to wear when she came to see Lucinda Richards.
Lucinda could be quite a problem, but Monica had dealt with her in the past before, and knew just what she needed to set her right.
Monica stripped to the skin. She put on a white satin garter belt with white lace flounces.
She sat down. The cushioned seat was cool against her bare bottom. She slipped her feet into white stockings, and rolled them up her long legs.
She pinned the garter tabs to the tops of the stockings. The stockings were pulled tight so that not a wrinkle or fold could be seen.
Monica pulled on a pair of white latex panties. The panties were bikini-style, and made a white gleaming triangle on her golden hips.
The latex clung to the flesh, revealing the folds of her pussy. Her skin tingled at the contact with the sensuous garments.
Monica didn't bother to put on a bra. She pulled on a white nurse's uniform, all starched and stiff and shining.
She buttoned it up. She put on a pair of sensible, low-heeled nurse's shoes, with gum rubber soles.
Monica fastened the top button. She slipped a stiff, white nurse's cap on her head, and pinned it into place.
She folded her jumpsuit and put it and her high-heeled shoes into the black alligator-skin doctor's bag she carried.
She opened the door and stepped into the hall. Max looked her over and said, "Jeeze, I hope this works."
"Lead me to our little patient, Max, darling."
Lucinda Richards had her own private dressing room. Max opened the door, and he and Monica entered the room.
Lucinda crouched in the far corner of the room. She was cuddling in a blanket, and sucking her thumb.
Lucinda was a few months short of thirty. Ever since she was seventeen, she had made one hit record after another.
She was of medium height, buxom and well-built. She had black hair tied back in a pony tail, and a wide face with full, sensuous lips.
She had some Indian blood in her, which was reflected in the darkness of her hair and her high cheekbones.
Her breasts were full and plump. She had a wide, rounded bottom and a thin waist. Her legs were smooth and muscular.
She wore a pair of blue satin gym shorts, sneakers and no socks, and a white T-shirt with no bra. Her nipples were outlined against the fabric.
Hanging on the dressing room walls were her latest gold record, and a framed photograph of her and a state senator at a White House reception.
It was hard to recognize the glamourous superstar in the juvenile, childish creature who huddled in the corner, sucking her thumb.
Monica said, "How is our little patient this morning?" She said it in a brightly cheerful tone.
Lucinda's eyes widened, but she didn't even take her thumb out of her mouth to reply.
Monica said to Max, "I'll have the situation well in hand. Please wait outside until I need you."
"Sure thing." Still mopping his sweating brow, the overweight agent exited the room.
Monica locked the door. "We wouldn't want to be disturbed during the examination, would we, dear?"
She stood over Lucinda. "Max tells me you don't want to work today, Lucinda. Is something the matter with you, dear?"
Lucinda's hand dropped to her crotch. She wasn't wearing panties, and Monica saw the girl's dark pubic bush through a fold in the gym shorts.
Monica said, "It's not polite to touch yourself there in public, dear."
She gently but firmly pulled Lucinda's hand away. Lucinda resisted for an instant but then let her limbs be moved like those of a doll's.
Monica helped her to her feet and crossed the dressing room. She sat down on the bed and pulled Lucinda down across her lap.
Lucinda's bottom was warm and heavy. Monica slipped her arm around the singer's waist.
She took hold of her hand, and pulled Lucinda's thumb out of her mouth. The thumb glistened with saliva. Lucinda frowned.
Monica said, "Now, you just tell Nurse Monica what's the matter with you, baby."
"I'm scared."
"What?"
"I'm scared. Don't want to do the movie. Lights hurt my eyes. Can't remember the lines."
"Are you ill, dear?" Monica put her palm on Lucinda's forehead. "You don't feel feverish. Your skin is cool."
"Don't wanna act," Lucinda whined. "Just wanna go home."
Monica said, "I think you're being a very foolish, spoiled little girl, Lucinda!"
"Am not!"
"I say you are. You're not sick, so there's no reason for you not to get to work. Scores of people are waiting for you-you're holding up the entire production."
Lucinda shrugged. "So what?"
"That's a very selfish attitude, miss. The trouble with you is really quite simple to diagnose. You're so used to getting your own way, that you're just throwing these temper tantrums to see how much you can get away with. Well, Nurse Monica is here, and that means that funtime is over!"
Lucinda said, "What are you going to do to me, Nurse?"
"To start with, I'm going to warm your bottom for being so naughty!"
Lucinda's eyes glittered. Monica told Lucinda to lie face down across her lap. The superstar singer eagerly obeyed.
Monica pulled down Lucinda's gym shorts, baring her plump buttocks. The bottom cheeks rippled and jiggled softly as Monica fondled them.
She pulled up Lucinda's T-shirt, baring her back. Lucinda's breasts came free of the shirt, and the undersides of them rubbed against Monica's thigh.
Lucinda sighed and squirmed as Monica adjusted her position on her lap., Monica slipped her around the warm waist, and hooked her leg across Lucinda's ankles, so the girl couldn't kick or thrash.
Monica spanked Lucinda. She used her bare hand to reinforce the childishness of the punishment.
Lucinda had a splendid ass, and Monica warmed to her task of warming it. The buttocks quivered as Monica's hard hand came down again and again.
Monica spanked her thirty times, leaving the buttocks a blushing rose color. Lucinda's face were flushed, and her eyes were moist.
Monica reached between Lucinda's legs. Lucinda sighed as the dominatrix' fingers slid into her dripping pussy.
Monica said, "What's this, Miss Lucinda? You're all wet down here, dear!"
"That's an adult pleasure, but you've been acting like a child, and that's just how I'm going to treat you!"
"Oh, Nurse Monica ... "
"It occurs to me that the reason you've been so cranky is because you need to be cleaned out, but are too embarrassed to ask."
Lucinda gasped, "Nurse Monica! Youyou're not going to-going to-give me an, an, an-"
"An enema?" Monica smiled wickedly at the girl. "Why, that's exactly what I'm going to do to you, dear."
Monica had Lucinda get off her lap. Monica unlaced the girl's sneakers; Lucinda stepped out of them.
Monica pulled off Lucinda's gym shorts. The girl's hips were wide and soft. Her pubic bush was a dark triangle of hair in her pelvis, and the lips of her pussy were fleshy and soft and quivered when Monica playfully toyed with them.
Lucinda's full buttocks were red from the small of her back to the bottom curve of her buttocks.
"Off with the shirt, Lucinda," Monica ordered.
She pulled the white T-shirt off the singer. Lucinda's breasts were full and heavy, and even larger than Monica's.
Monica paused for a few seconds to admire Lucinda's form. The buxom singer's pin-up poster was a nationwide bestseller, and decorated the walls of thousands of dreaming adolescents.
Monica picked up her doctor's bag. She swatted Lucinda's bottom. "Into the bathroom, child."
Lucinda's red buttocks jiggled from side to side as she flounced into the private bathroom attached to the dressing room.
The bathroom was small, but complete. There was a toilet, a tub, a sink, a medicine chest, and a mirror.
Monica took out an enema bag from the alligator case. Not knowing if the things she needed would be available, she had brought all the necessary items.
Lucinda moaned and giggled when she saw the bag. A long length of white plastic tubing spiraled out of the bottom of the red rubber bag.
Monica held the nozzle at the end of the tube. It was oversized, made of flexible plastic. It was six inches long, as wide as a twenty-five cent piece, and quite phallic.
Lucinda's eyes gleamed. Her mouth opened in a wide O. "You're not going to stick that big thing in my little bottom!"
"Just watch me," Monica said.
Lucinda fidgeted nervously as Monica filled the bag with soap flakes and warm water.
Monica adjusted the consistency of the solution so it was just right. The pleasant odor of soap flakes filled the bathroom. Steam from the faucets condensed on the mirror, fogging it.
Monica put on a black rubber apron. She arranged the bows around her waist, and tied them behind her.
She hung the enema bag on a hook on the wall. She sat down on top of the plastic toilet seat lid.
She took hold of Lucinda's pony tail, and pulled the young woman across her lap. Lucinda moaned and wriggled as her bare thighs contacted the rubber apron.
Monica opened a blue jar of lubricant. The jelly was pale white. Monica parted Lucinda's fleshy buttocks, and greased the crack of her ass.
She smeared the lubricant around and into Lucinda's tight-packed, puckered anus. Lucinda wriggled and moaned softly.
Monica greased the phallic nozzle tip with the jelly. Parting Lucinda's reddened buttocks, Monica guided the nozzle to her anus.
The brown ring quivered as the nozzle tip touched it. Monica eased the nozzle past the clenching sphincter, and into the girl's creamy rectum.
Lucinda wriggled on her lap. Monica held her firmly, and continued to guide the enema nozzle inside her, so she was fully penetrated.
Lucinda groaned as most of the six-inch length was lodged tightly inside her.
Monica opened the catheter at the bottom of the tube. The fluid gurgled down the tubes and into Lucinda.
Lucinda sighed and shifted position as the fluid filled her. Her rounded tummy distended as the solution gurgled into her.
She frowned, and big beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. She pleaded with Monica not to put so much in, but Monica only laughed.
Finally, the red rubber bag gave up its last few drops, and was empty. Lucinda was filled.
Then Monica had some fun. Lucinda begged to be allowed to void herself, but Monica forced her to hold it in for ten minutes.
Lucinda was in tears toward the end of that ten minute period. Monica finally got off the seat, and Lucinda quickly took her place.
After Lucinda was cleaned out, she smiled weakly and said, "I know I was a bad girl, Nurse Monica. I'm ready to go back to work now."
"You'll be ready when I say you are, and not a moment before!" Monica said. "You really didn't think you were going to get off that easily, did you?"
Monica had Lucinda get in the tub. She used soap and water and a wash cloth to scrub Lucinda's bottom until the buttocks were pink and shining.
Monica toweled her dry none too gently. Lucinda frowned and occasionally cried out as the terry cloth towel rubbed her spanked and jiggling buttocks.
Monica took her by the ear and led her back into the dressing room. She said, "I've taken great pains to correct your misbehavior, and I mean to get the most out of it!"
She took off her rubber apron and tossed it aside. She lifted her skirt, and pulled down her panties.
Lucinda licked her lips. Without being told, she knelt down on the floor.
Monica sat on the bed with her skirt raised to her waist, her legs spread, and her feet on the floor.
She pointed a finger at her pussy.
Lucinda crawled to her on her hands and knees. Her red buttocks jiggled as she crawled.
Lucinda knelt between Monica's legs. She rubbed her face against Monica's long, stockinged legs. Lucinda's face was an entranced mask.
Monica put her hand on the back of Lucinda's head, and pushed her face into her pussy.
Lucinda kissed and licked Monica's pussy. Her wide lips were wet and they sent rushes of pleasure through Monica as they rubbed against her pussy lips.
Lucinda stabbed her tongue inside the pussy. She licked the juices which dripped from the membranes of Monica's cunt.
Lucinda made her living with her mouth, and it was skilled and sensitive. She played her strong, limber tongue over Monica's most sensitive and erogenous areas.
Monica tilted her head back and sighed as Lucinda tongued her. She unbuttoned the front of the dress, baring her breasts.
She took one of Lucinda's hands and guided it to her bosom. She placed the hand on her breast. Lucinda began to fondle and caress it, continuing her tonguing all the while.
Monica rocked her hips back and forth, moving her pussy in response to Lucinda's tongue. The tongue tip toyed and played with her pulsating clitoris.
Monica sighed. The nurse's cap worked loose, and fell over her face, so she unpinned it, and tossed it to the side.
Lucinda's warm, wet mouth brought Monica to orgasm. Monica shuddered, and closed her legs convulsively, squeezing them shut on Lucinda's overheated face.
After a shivering moment of ecstasy, Monica opened her legs, releasing the girl.
Lucinda looked up. Her face was wet, and her eyebrows were sticky. Red blots of color shone in her damp cheeks.
She licked her lips, tasting Monica's juices yet again.
Monica stood up. Her body felt glowing and luxurious. The blood rushed to her head, and for an instant she felt a slight wave of dizziness.
Then it passed. She put her breasts back in the uniform, and buttoned it closed. Her nipples were still hard, and they thrust against the material like hard, ripe cherries.
Lucinda started to get up. Monica said, "You stay right there, miss. I'm not quite through with you yet!"
Monica opened the dressing room door, and stuck her head into the hall. Max Buxton was out there, pacing nervously.
She said, "Max, darling, would you come in here for a moment, please? I need your assistance."
He looked more worried than ever. "Is ... something wrong?"
"Not at all. But hurry and come in."
Max entered the dressing room. Lucinda knelt on the floor, naked, her legs folded, her hands at her sides.
Her breasts were round and soft, and her nipples were hard. Her bottom was red from the spanking.
Max kept a straight face and said nothingdidn't even blink an eye. Twenty years in show business, working as agent for nutty actors and actresses, and, more recently, the even more bizarre aristocracy of rock Superstars, had made Max unflappable.
Max said, "Well, how is our girl?"
Monica said, "Very well, thank you-She's been a good baby, and she needs a pacifier to complete her recovery from that nasty little bout of stage fright."
"A pacifier, huh?"
"Yes. Take down your pants, Max."
He stared at her.
"Come on, Max, don't dawdle," Monica said. "There's only twenty minutes before the afternoon's shooting begins."
Max was dumbfounded. Monica unbuckled his belt, opened his trousers, pulled down his fly, and yanked his pants and undershorts down to his knees.
Max blushed. He was very hairy, with a paunch and a soft bottom. His cock was thick and heavy, and his balls were large and round in their sac.
He sputtered, "Monica-Monica, what are you doing?!"
She led him to Lucinda. Max had to take small steps, because his pants around his ankles served as a kind of hobble.
Monica gripped his cock, and fondled his balls. The dangling member quickened with life, thickened, stiffened, jerked upward.
After less than a moment of Monica's adroit handling, Max's cock was stiff and hard, and looming in Lucinda's face.
Lucinda licked her soft pink lips. Monica said, "Give this good little girl her pacifier, Max."
Lucinda crawled forward on her knees, and fumbled for Max's cock, taking it from Monica. She guided the swollen head into her mouth.
Max blushed, but he groaned with pleasure as Lucinda took his member into her mouth. She opened her mouth wide, stretching the lips, as though she were reaching for a high note while singing.
She rubbed the cock head against the roof of her mouth. She wrapped her lips on the shaft, and slurped and sucked.
Max rocked back and forth, thrusting his cock in and out of her mouth. Then Lucinda did a very curious thing.
She made a low, moaning, vibrating hum deep in her throat. These vibrations rippled through Max's hard cock, giving him an extra, wild thrill.
Lucinda continued to hum while she sucked happily. This hum job short-circuited Max's endurance, and he was so excited that he came after only a few minutes.
His flabby buttocks were momentarily clenched as he came. His eyes squeezed shut, and his chin rested on his chest.
The semen gushed from his cock, splashing over Lucinda's tongue and gums. She gulped it down in big swallows.
Monica patted her head. "Now, isn't that a well behaved little girl?"
"You said it," Max agreed.
CHAPTER THREE
Lucinda was up in the rigging of a pirate ship. She was wearing a frilly white dress with lots of petticoats.
She was lip-synching the words to a big musical number. She moved her mouth, but no words came out.
Later, she would record the tune in the sound studio, and a group of Hollywood sonic experts would match the vocal to the film.
A bunch of buccaneers stood arm-in-arm on the deck below Lucinda. They wore black patches and hooks and cutlasses.
They were looking up and grinning.
Max and Monica stood off to the sidelines, watching the scene being filmed. The set was in a hangar-like building, with lots of cameras following the action.
Max whispered, "No wonder those pirate S.O.B.S are grinning-Lucinda's not wearing any panties."
"That's all right," Monica said. "It makes the scene work."
"Well, she's doing fine, just fine. The kid's a real trouper. She'll do okay now that you got her to come out of her dressing room."
"She just needed the proper coaching. So many of these entertainers are just overgrown children-if you treat them like little kids, you never have any problems with them," Monica said. "Or, at least no problems that a good, old-fashioned spanking can't cure."
Max said, "Lucinda will be tied up with this scene for the rest of the afternoon. Come on, I want to show you something I think you'll get a kick out of."
They exited the sound stage. They crossed a sunlit lot, then entered another building. They went to Max's private office.
Max shut and locked the door. The office was luxurious. There was a huge desk, a leather-covered couch big enough to sleep four people, a private bar, a refrigerator, a motion picture projector, a seven-foot video-movie screen, and heaps of film cans and video tapes. Max said, "Drink?"
"It's a bit too early for me, thanks," Monica said. "On second thought, I am a bit dry. I'll have some sparkling water, please."
Max fixed her a glass of mineral water from a natural spring. It was on the rocks with a twist of lemon. He poured himself a fat scotch.
Monica sat down. She had changed out of her nurse's uniform before leaving Lucinda's dressing room, and was back in her jumpsuit and high heels.
Max took a reel of sixteen-millimeter motion picture film and threaded it onto the projector.
He said, "Wait'll you see this-you'll get a real kick out of it."
"Don't tell me you brought me here to look at dirty movies, Max."
"I did, but this isn't one of them You can think of this as a selected short subject."
He turned off the lights. The projector started, and a square of motion and light was beamed onto the screen.
It was an excerpt from one of the studio's low-budget beach movies of over fifteen years ago.
Monica said, "Max, what on earth-
"Just watch," the agent grinned.
The scene was taking place in a drive-in restaurant's parking lot. The lot was filled with candy-colored California cars.
Thronging the cars were young and beautiful teenagers of both sexes. The girls were golden tanned, nubile, gorgeous.
Monica said, "I just know that I've seen this before...."
"You bet you have," Max said. "Look!"
A waitress rolled out of the drive-in. She wore a bikini and a pair of roller skates, and she carried a serving tray filled with burgers and shakes and fries.
The girl was lovely, with a wide, wet inviting mouth, lush pert breasts, splehdid legs, and a lovely curved rump.
"Recognize her?" Max asked.
"Of course," Monica laughed, "it's me!"
It was her fifteen years ago, shortly after she had come to Hollywood. The on-screen Monica had a saucy, sexy smile.
"You should have stayed in the business," Max said. "You had personality, and what a body!"
"Beautiful bodies are a dime for ten dozen in this town, Max."
"You were good, kid."
"This was my biggest part. You have to watch quickly-if you blink, you miss it."
On screen, the plot called for young Monica to stumble, and spill burgers and shakes on the hapless adult guest star appearing in the feature.
Max shut off the projector and rewound the film. Monica said, "Wherever did you find that awful clip, Max?"
"In the files. I thought you might get a kick out of it. I tell you, I've seen all the big stars come and go over the last twenty years. You could have been as big as any of 'em."
"I am big, Max. In what I do, I'm one of the leading superstars."
"That's true!"
"And I don't have to take direction-I give it!"
"The movie's loss was domination's gain," Max said.
He fit a video cassette into the tape player. Monica said, "I hope you're not going to show me any more of my old movies!"
"No, this is a real collector's item," Max said. "This is hot stuff."
"That sounds intriguing."
"Listen, I'm not even supposed to have this. I'm only showing it to you because I know that you can be trusted."
"You don't have to give me the build-up, Max."
"I sure don't. This tape speaks for itself!"
Max started the tape. The big seven-foot video screen glared with light, then was replaced with a moving picture.
Monica said, "I see it's in full color, too."
"Nothing but the best," Max said. "We go first class all the way in Hollywood."
Monica settled back in the dark and watched the picture.
On screen, a lovely blonde woman came into view. She was in her middle forties, but her body was in superb shape.
Her hair was short and saucily cut. Her eyes were sky-blue, her lips strawberry-red. Freckles covered her face, and she had a pert, upturned nose.
Denise Dawson had been one of the big stars of the late fifties and early sixties. She was a Midwesterner, a fresh-faced lady who defended her virtue from the wiles of handsome seducers in a series of frothy comedies.
Her screen image was that of the professional virgin, the clean-cut innocent. The type wasn't in demand in the movies anymore, but Denise had managed to make the transition to television.
For the past five years, she had played a noble, hard-working career mother raising a brood of kids in the big city. It was one of television's most popular family-oriented shows.
Monica heard that Denise Dawson's off-screen life was considerably kinkier than anything they could show in the movies.
Now, the video tape proved the truth of those rumors.
Denise was in leather, heels, and hose.
She wore a foundation garment, a corset with black lace panels. It pulled her figure into an hourglass shape.
The corset laced up the back. It had half-cups which plumped up her bare breasts and lifted them like offerings of tender flesh.
Denise's skin was tanned and golden. Tiny freckles were speckled on the soft swelling flesh at the tops of her breasts.
The nipples were pink and sharp. They were small but erect, with buttons of blurred pink flesh surrounding them.
Denise wore a black leather garter belt, and black leather panties. Her long dancer's legs were sheathed in dark nylons.
Her feet were covered with gleaming black patent leather pumps. They had sharp pointed toes, and spiked heels.
Denise was facing the camera, but not looking directly into it. She stared down at the young nude male who knelt at her feet.
His back was to the camera, so his face and front couldn't be seen. But he had a lithely muscled physique, and adorable cupcake buttocks that Monica longed to redden with a strap.
She said, "Who's the boy?"
"Her slave," Max said.
"He's yummy."
"Wait'll you see who it is!"
Denise lifted her foot, and rested it on a chair. She grabbed a handful of her slave's full, dark hair, and pulled his face forward.
The slave kissed her high-heeled foot. He pressed his lips against the gleaming patent leather surface.
As he did so, his face was turned to the camera.
Monica said, "Why, that's Ronny Baker!"
Ronny Baker was a young man who played Denise's son in the television series. He was cute and sexy, and had become this year's heart throb to hundreds of thousands of pubescent girls.
It was obvious that his heart belonged to his video mommy, however.
Denise stroked his hair. Monica found it disorienting to see that celebrated, all-American face contorted by lust and sadistic pleasure.
Ronny opened his mouth. Denise guided the heel of her shoe into his mouth. His tongue flicked out, playing over the spiked stiletto heel.
He wrapped his lips around the heel, and began to suck on it, as though he was giving head.
Denise stood with her hands on her hips, staring down at him with satisfaction.
Ronny's cock was hard. It was stiff and thick and jutted out from his hips as he knelt. His body was smoothly muscled and hairless.
Denise took the heel out of his mouth. She pulled upward on his hair, and he rose to his feet.
He was a tall youth. He was barefoot, and she had on six-inch heels, but he still stood taller than she did.
There was no question who was in control, however. Ronny's head was bowed submissively.
Denise wagged her finger in his face, as though she were scolding him. Ronny looked like he was going to burst into tears.
Monica wished that there was sound, so she could hear what the two of them were saying. However, the picture of them told her all she needed to know.
Denise took Ronny by the ear and led him across the room, like a teacher bringing a naughty pupil down to the principal.
The video camera followed them across the room. Monica saw that the action was being held in a dominatrix's playroom.
There were stocks and chains and velvet-covered saw horses and fetters and manacles. Hanging on the wall was a rack filled with various whips and bondage devices.
Monica asked, "Where was this taken?"
"In Denise's basement," ' Max said. "She's very heavily into the scene!"
Denise led the youth to the horse. It was a carpenter's saw horse made of one horizontal beam supported by two pairs of V-shaped vertical legs.
The device was thickly padded, and covered with black velvet. Chains and manacles were bolted on to it.
Denise pressed against the young man. He shivered as she caressed him roughly. Her lush breasts bobbed in the corset's half-cups.
Ronny was in a trance of lust. Denise pressed against him so that his hard cock rubbed flat against her leather panties.
She reached behind him, and fondled his ass. The ease and familiarity she expressed said that she had this slave well under control.
Ronny shivered and writhed under her fondling. She pulled his head to her breast. He fastened his mouth on a nipple and sucked greedily.
She stroked his flanks and thighs. She tilted her head back, glowing with lust as her young man kissed her breasts.
She took his head between her hands. She smiled cruelly and said something. She must have threatened him with some punishment, because a look of fear came over his face.
Denise put her hands on his broad shoulders and turned him so that his back was to her.
She put the flat of her hand on his back, and pushed forward. He bent from the waist. She bent him over the horizontal bar of the velvet-covered horse.
Ronny hung face down, draped in the middle over the bar. His feet were solidly planted on the floor, and his fingertips brushed the floor on the other side.
Denise knelt down. She fastened a leg iron around his ankle. It was bolted to one of the horse's supporting legs.
She did the same thing with his other ankle. Now his feet were spread wide, and chained in place to the horse.
She went around to the front of the horse. She slipped an iron cuff around the wrist of his dangling arm, and snapped it shut.
She repeated the process. Now, Ronny was hanging face down, wrists and ankles securely manacled, chaining him in position.
Denise stood in front of him. He craned his neck so he could see her. His head was even with her thighs.
"Watch this," Max said. "It gets really hot!"
Denise pulled down her black leather panties. She had a dark brown, curly pubic bush. She ran her fingers through the fleshy lips, while Ronny's cock throbbed and jerked in the air.
Denise stepped out of the panties. She turned her back to the youth, so her buttocks were facing him.
She backed up. The young man's wide-eyed face was suddenly hidden between the globes of her lush buttocks.
She reached behind her, and took a handful of his hair, holding his head in place as he tongued her.
His jaw and throat muscles worked as he thrust his tongue in and out of her anus. Denise grinned with wicked pleasure.
Monica said, "Max, however did you manage to get hold of this tape?"
"It's from Denise's private collection. She had a cameraman from the studio film it so it would look professional."
Monica stared as Denise fondled her breasts with one hand, while her young slave lovingly adored her big bottom.
She said, "The camera work isn't the only thing that's professional-Denise really knows what she's doing with that boy!"
"Like the man said, 'you ain't seen nothin' yet'!" Max chuckled.
"How'd you get hold of the tape?"
"The cameraman was a buddy of mine, and owed me a favor. So I got him to strike off a duplicate of the tape, and no one's the wiser."
"It isn't nice to play such underhanded tricks on dominant women, Max," Monica said. "I'll have to punish you for your deceit-after the show, however."
On screen, Denise had finished enjoying Ronny's tongue in her ass, and was moving on to other things.
He had taken care of her pleasure-now she would attend to his pain.
She selected a thin, whippy rod from the rack. She bent its flexible length, taking a few experimental swings in the air.
She took up a position behind Ronny. He twisted his neck, but his manacled position wouldn't allow him to turn far enough to see her.
Denise stood facing his bottom. She slashed the rod across the young man's boyishly rounded buttocks.
Monica couldn't hear Ronny's shriek. But the way his body convulsed after being struck indicated the sizzling force that Denise had used.
Denise was merciless. She swung the rod again and again, slashing the boy's buttocks.
Ronny's neck muscles were corded, and his face was tight with silent screams.
Monica said, "Oh, she's not hitting him all that hard, for him to be making such a fuss. These actors are such-actors! They have to dramatize everything!"
Denise's breasts bobbed and jiggled as she wielded the rod. Thin red cuts ran horizontally across the curves of the boy's buttocks.
Finally, Denise put down the rod. Ronny was trembling and quivering. But his pain hadn't diminished his hard-on, which was as long and thick as ever.
Denise strolled around in front of him, facing his. head. She grabbed a handful of hair and pulled his face up.
She pressed her pussy against his face, and ground it in to him. Tears dribbled down the youngster's cheeks.
His lips and tongue played over Denise's thick-bushed pussy. Ronny extended his pink tongue, and buried it deep in her slot.
Denise rocked back and forth, back and forth, in response to his thrusting tongue.
She forced the youth to tongue her to orgasm. When she came, her breasts bobbed wildly as she vibrated and rocked back and forth on her heels.
She stood motionless for a moment, head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut, breasts quivering.
Then she released the boy's long hair, and his head dropped down, hanging in shame.
Denise brushed her hair off her forehead. Her pink nipples were stiff. Her breasts and buttocks jiggled as she went to get the dildo.
She stood in front of him as she tauntingly strapped it on. It was a long black dildo with a wide, swollen head.
Ronny looked frightened. He licked his lips nervously, then spoke rapidly. Monica assumed he was begging for mercy, begging not to have his bottom violated.
Monica was glad to see that Denise didn't show any signs of tender-hearted weakness, and ignored the boy's tearful pleas.
She not only ignored them, she mocked them. She fixed the thin leather straps of the dildo, fastening them in place on her hips.
The straps fit snugly, and cut into the soft skin of her thighs. The dildo hung from her hips, dangling obscenely, bobbing in the boy's face.
Denise looked the very image of bizarre dominance. She was lushly curved, but her softness was enclosed in the black lace corset, and her hips were girdled with the black leather garter belt.
Jutting out from the softness of her rounded, womanly hips, was the dildo, an artificial engine of lust and penetration.
She made Ronny suck it like it was a cock. She guided the plastic head of it between his soft pink lips and forced him to suck it.
His cheek bulged out whenever she rocked forward and thrust the dildo deep into his mouth. When she finally withdrew it, it was dripping with saliva.
She strutted around behind him, breasts bobbing. Ronny turned his head as much as possible, pleading with her to spare him.
Denise got a tube of anal lubricant. She unscrewed the cap. She squeezed the tube, and a fat dollop of lubricant oozed onto her hands.
She parted the boy's buttocks. He shook and cried out from the pain of having his whipped bottom so rudely handly.
Denise smeared the goo in the crack of his ass, and rubbed plenty of it into his anus. Ronny was jack-knifed and in position for a bottom fucking.
Denise greased the dildo. Holding his bottom cheeks apart, she pressed the dildo to his anus, and began stuffing it inside him.
Ronny's face screwed up in pain as he was penetrated. He cried out when the dildo head forced its way past his tight-clutching sphincter muscle.
Then she was in. Denise shoved forward.
The black length of the dildo vanished from sight as inch by inch it was taken inside the boy's tight bottom.
Ronny hung his head and wept when Denise had finally penetrated him. She gripped his hips and began to thrust in and out, back and forth, raping his bottom.
She reached under the boy, and gripped his cock, holding it like a handle of flesh while she raped his ass.
She rubbed her palm up and down his shaft, until the member became red and heated. Ronny moaned every time her hips brushed against his whipped buttocks.
Denise thrust deep into him, and massaged his cock faster and faster.
Suddenly, semen jetted from the head of his member, and spilled onto the wooden floor.
Ronny bucked and trembled. The muscles of his body flexed and contracted. Denise squeezed the last drops of pearly come from his cock.
She didn't withdraw the dildo. Rather, when she was done, she unstrapped the dildo and took it off, leaving it firmly lodged in his bottom.
She turned, faced the camera, and took a deep bow.
Her face vanished in a burst of white light as the tape ran out and ended.
Max said, "Well, that's it. The show's over." Monica put her hand in his lap. His cock was thick and hard. She said, "Is it?"
She looked at him with a look of pure lust in her eyes.
The tension in the room could be cut with a knife.
CHAPTER FOUR
Monica fondled his member through the folds of his trousers. "Does that wild girl still work for you?"
"You mean Miss Green?" Max asked, sighing.
"The one with the long legs, brown hair, and big tits."
"That's Miss Green. Yes, she's still with me.
"Wild as ever?"
"Wilder." Max squirmed around on the chair. "Oooooh, that feels good."
"I'm going to beat your ass, Max."
His cock throbbed and grew in response to her remark.
Monica said, "And Miss Green is going to watch. Does she still do whatever you tell her to do?"
"Yes ... "
Monica laughed. "Well, I'll change that. Call her in."
"Right now?"
"Right now, little Max, and no backtalk if you please. If you get me mad, I won't permit you to come. You've already come once today, with Lucinda, and that should have been quite enough. It would have been, if you weren't a sex-mad freak instead of a normal person. But since you are, you be a good boy and call Miss Green in to join us."
Max Buxton stood up. His erect cock bulged in the crotch of his trousers. He squeezed it reflexively.
Monica slapped his hand away. "Don't play with yourself, Max. I swear, all you slaves are alike!"
Max flipped on the intercom on his desk and spoke into it. "Miss Green, would you step in here for a moment, please?"
"Right away, Mr. Buxton," the secretary's voice came crackling back over the voice box.
The door opened, and a beautiful young woman stepped. She was wearing low-heeled shoes, but she still stood almost six feet tall.
Her chestnut brown hair was parted in the center, and brushed her wide shoulders. It was good that her shoulders were wide, because they supported her exceptionally large breast development.
Miss Green's bust size was a 43 DD. She was a college graduate, but she had worked her way through college by dancing topless and bottomless at clubs on the Strip.
She wore a tan skirt, a frilly white short-sleeved blouse, and a sleeveless vest of the same material and color as the skirt.
The blouse was semi-transparent, and her brassiere was visible. It was white and lacey, and supported her full, lush breasts.
She was twenty-four years old, cool, calm, composed. But tiny spots of color rose in her cheeks when she saw Monica.
She remembered what had happened the last time Monica had visited the studio.
Max said, "You remember Monica, of course, Miss Green."
"Mistress Monica," Miss Green said. "Oh yes, I remember."
"So nice to see you again, Miss Green," Monica said. She held out her hand.
Miss Green took it to shake it, but instead Monica raised the secretary's hand to her lips and kissed it.
Miss Green blushed. Monica held her hand for a long time, and she blushed even harder.
Monica said, "Stop hiding behind that desk, Max. Come on out."
Max bobbed his head sheepishly and came out from around the desk. Monica slithered over to him, swaying her hips from side to side.
She said to Miss Green, "The reason that Max is being unusually subdued today is because he knows he's going to get an ass beating in a few minutes."
"Monica, really!" Max protested.
"Don't be coy, Max. This isn't exactly a secret from Miss Green. She was here the last time I disciplined you, sweetie."
She patted his cheek. Max blushed.
Miss Green said, "That last spanking you gave Max did him a lot of good, Mistress Monica. For a whole week after that, he was almost human!"
"Careful," Max growled, "or I'll spank you!"
"I think not," Monica said. "Not while I'm around."
She rubbed his cock. "Look how hard Max is, just from thinking about what I'm going to do to him. Of course, you can't really see him, not with all those silly clothes on."
She crossed to the door. "I hope you don't have any appointments for the next hour or so, Max."
"He doesn't have any," Miss Green said. "So there won't be anything to interfere with you, Mistress Monica."
"Good." Monica locked the door. "You can help me strip him naked."
"Now, wait a minute-" Max blustered.
"You've been very sweet today," Monica said, "and I would hate to have to beat your ass raw and bloody, instead of just warming it up a bit. But I will beat the living hell out of you if you don't shut up, Max."
She went over to him. "Don't be so distant, Miss Green. Come over and join the party."
Miss Green had been hired by Max as much for her sexual talents and availability as for her secretarial skills. It was a package deal, and she was very lucratively paid for it.
She was used to being on sexual call at any time during the work day. But this time, with Mistress Monica present, promised to be more fun than the usual round of fucking and sucking that Max demanded of her. His demands would be few, with the dominant Monica present.
Monica said to her, "Help me strip him."
"I'd love to," Miss Green said.
Monica took off Max's sport coat, and put it on his desk. Miss Green stood close to him, and began loosening his tie.
Max was overdressed for California, but he was a native New Yorker, and even after two decades in Hollywood, he still couldn't escape his compulsion to wear a jacket and tie.
Miss Green towered almost a head taller than him. She had to lean forward to undo his tie.
Max's face was red and sweating. His head was just about level with Miss Green's breasts. They were ripe and full, and he licked his lips.
Miss Green unknotted the tie and took it off. Monica said, "Let me have that. I can use it." She took the tie.
Miss Green unbuttoned Max's shirt, starting from the top button and working her way down. She leaned forward, so that her breasts rubbed yieldingly against his face.
He was sweating so hard that he left little damp patches on her blouse where it had touched his face.
Miss Green opened the button to his navel. Max had a hairy chest, and a soft, spreading belly. Miss Green pulled his shirt tails free of his trousers.
Monica, standing behind him, pulled the shirt off his body. She reached in front of him, and played with his breasts, pinching the tiny nipples while he writhed.
Her fingers twisted the hair on his chest into little ringlets, then let them unwind. She placed her mouth close to his ear, and licked the inside of it.
She said, "Be a dear, Miss Green, and take down Max's pants."
"With pleasure," Miss Green said.
She unbuckled his belt and took down his trousers and let them fall to his ankles. He wore a pair of old-fashioned boxer shorts.
There was a hole in the front of them. Max's hard cock jutted out so that the red head of it thrust out of the cloth opening.
Max reached for it to tuck it back inside, but Monica slapped his hand away.
She said, "Naughty, naughty. Mustn't touch. If he does that again, Miss Green, you just take his hand away. Give it a good hard slap."
Miss Green's eyebrows raised. "Slap what? His hand, or his dick?"
Monica smiled. "I like the way you think, Miss Green. If he plays with himself again, slap his cock, hard. That will teach him a lesson."
Monica slid her hand between his shorts and his ass. He had a plump bottom, wide and fleshy. Monica kneaded the buttocks.
She said, "You'll have to take off your own shoes, Max."
Groaning from the unaccustomed exertion, Max leaned forward, lifted his baggy trouser legs, and untied his shoes.
His task wasn't made any easier by the fondling that Monica gave to his bottom and his swollen, hairy balls.
Finally, he untied his shoes, and slipped them off. He stepped out of his pants. The loose change and ring of keys in his pockets jingled as he removed the trousers.
Max stood in the center of his office with his hands at his sides and his cock bulging out the front of his shorts.
Monica said, "It will make things more exciting, Miss Green, if you take your clothes off."
Miss Green said, "If I do, will you make love to me?"
"I don't make deals, Miss Green. Now, do be a good girl and take off your clothes, or I'm afraid you'll have to lie side by side with Max as I administer a double spanking."
Miss Green shrugged. "You're the boss."
"Precisely," Monica said.
Miss Greene kicked off her shoes. Monica said, "Stand right in front of Max, so he can watch what you're doing, but don't touch him."
Miss Green unbuttoned her blouse, and took it off. She laid it down next to the sleeveless vest, which she had already removed.
Monica reached around, and gripped Max's cock. She playfully stroked the shaft while Miss Green stripped.
Miss Green reached behind her back. The cups of her bra were decorated with white lace floral designs. Her skin was bronze-colored.
Her breasts were ripe and plump and threatened to break loose from the delicate flimsy cups which supported them.
Her cleavage was full and splendid. She unhooked the back strap of the bra. She slid the shoulder straps off her arms, and took the bra off.
Her breasts dangled heavily and ominously. They looked like the fronts of a pair of twin, pink-tipped dingibles.
Miss Green cupped her breasts in her palms, raised them a few inches, then released them and let them dangle and bob.
The nipples were soft and pink, but at her touch they hardened and grew. Max's cock throbbed in response to her mammary charms.
"You're lovely, Miss Green," Monica said.
Miss Green smiled in acknowledgement of the compliment. She was nude from the waist up. She pulled down the zipper of her skirt.
Then she took down her skirt, and lithely stepped out of it. Her legs were long, long and lovely. They were smooth with tautly muscled thighs and shapely calves and trim ankles.
She wore a pair of simple white cotton panties. The fabric was stretched across her broad hips. Her belly and pubis were subtly, deliciously rounded.
Monica said, "You're so lovely, that I'm afraid poor Max won't be able to maintain control anymore. So I'll just show you how to keep his hands out of trouble. This is a very good way to manage him when he gets aroused, if you're interested."
"I am interested," Miss Green said, licking her soft lips. "Interested and aroused."
"Watch." Monica put Max's hands behind his back, and crossed the wrists. She took his tie, and deftly made an adjustable loop in it.
Max groaned, not from pain, but from the fact that it was an expensive, one-of-a-kind tie. But he wisely refrained from complaining aloud.
Monica slipped the noose around his wrists, and pulled it tight, so that the fabric of the tie fit snugly against his flesh.
She threw some more loops around the noose, knotted them, and checked them to be certain that they were secure, and would hold.
Monica said, "You don't need a lot of expensive accessories and paraphernalia to dominate a man, Miss Green. The key to successful domination is attitude. When you have the correct attitude, the rest falls easily into place. You can use an ordinary necktie to make a passably good binder, for example."
"I see," said Miss Green thoughtfully.
"And for a gag, you don't need anything fancy," Monica continued. "Why, a simple pair of panties like the ones you're wearing makes the best gag of all."
Miss Green hooked her thumbs in the elastic waistband of her undies, and pulled them down. Her pubic bush was thick and downy soft, with dark brown curls and coral-colored lips.
Monica said, "I appreciate your thinking ahead, but as a matter-of-fact, I'm not going to gag Max just yet-I have some uses for his mouth. But let me have the panties anyway."
Monica took the panties, and slipped them on over her hand. Using them as a kind of massage mitten, she rubbed Max's chest and belly and thighs.
She said, "Since you're nude, Miss Green, it hardly seems fair to let Max keep his panties on, does it?"
"No, it certainly doesn't," Miss Green said.
"Especially since they're so oafish and clunky," Monica said. "Really, Max, if you ever wear these shorts or any like them again when I come to visit you, I'm just going to turn around and go home without doing a thing-I hate them that much. They're an eyesore."
Miss Green asked, "What should he wear, Mistress Monica?"
"A pair of the frilliest, laciest, prettiest panties imaginable."
Max said thickly, "Uh, I don't have any, er, panties, Monica."
"Mistress Monica," she corrected him, tweaking his nipple at the same time.
"I don't have any panties, Mistress Monica."
"Whose fault is that?" Monica demanded. "Mine? How typical of a slave to want to pass the buck, and avoid responsibility. But then, I suppose you wouldn't be a slave if you weren't like that."
She continued, "Now, you know perfectly well that right on the Strip, a dear friend of mine runs a shop that specializes in outfitting men like you in the loveliest of feminine garments."
"I can't go there by myself, MonicaMistress Monica," Max said quickly.
"Then I will have to take you on a shopping expedition," Monica said. "And of course, Miss Green will accompany us, too."
Miss Green's eyes were shining. "I'd love to."
"It's great fun," Monica said. "We'll be able to force Max to try on all kinds of garmentscorsets, cinchers, panties, girdles, stockingseven padded bras and wigs!"
"I'd love to dress Max up like a little girl," Miss Green said. "He has me wear all kinds of lingerie and sexy garments. I like it, but it seems only fair to force him to dress up the same way."
"Then we'll do it," Monica said. "We'll do it this Friday!"
"That would be wonderful," Miss Green said.
"But that's Friday. Let's not lose sight of the problem at hand right now," Monica said.
She pulled Max's shorts off his pudgy hips. The elastic waistband snagged for an instant on the head of his cock.
Monica continued to pull the shorts down. The waistband worked free from the head, and Max's cock bounced back up, so that it was once more stiffly horizontal.
Monica and Miss Green both had a bit of a giggle over the comical interlude.
Max blushed deep red.
Monica said, "Permit me to ask you a frank question, Miss Green-how good is Max at eating pussy? Your pussy."
Miss Green said, "He's really not bad at all, when he condescends to do, it. But he rarely goes down on me. Most of the time, his schedule is so hurried that he only has time for me to crouch under his desk and suck him off. Sometimes he even has me do it when he's talking and making deals on the telephone."
Monica said, "What does he do if he's talking while he comes?"
"He puts the other party on hold 'till he catches his breath."
Monica said, "Oh, Max, you are so naughty!"
She fondled his balls. Max took a deep breath. He shut his eyes, and hung his head.
Monica said, "I think Max is overdue for some pussy eating. Miss Green, if you'd be so good as to he down on your back on that couch, I believe we can teach this naughty, impudent little boy a lesson!"
Miss Green lay down on the leather-covered couch. She reclined with one arm propped under her head, raising it. One of her legs was bent, the other was extended.
She was a brown-haired beauty with a statuesque golden body lying on a black leather couch. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and smoldering.
Monica said, "Don't be so foolish as to think that I've forgotten about your punishment, little Max. But first, you're going to use your mouth to pleasure Miss Green, so get to it."
She took hold of the knobbed head of his cock, and pulled on it, leading him across the room to the couch where Miss Green lay waiting.
Max knelt on the floor. His bound hands made his movements awkward. He leaned forward, resting his head and upper body on the couch between Miss Green's long legs.
Max licked his lips. His face was poised over Miss Green's hairy pubic bush. It was a curly, tufted clump which partially veiled the loveliness of her pussy.
Monica pushed his face down into the pussy Max sputtered. Monica said, "Get down to it, little Max."
Max's cock was pressed vertically between his soft, round belly and the black leather of the couch.
Once he got started, he didn't need any encouragement. He kissed the pubic bush, the fleshy lips, the crotch, and even Miss Green's belly and rounded navel.
As his tongue circled her navel, and dipped into it, Monica said, "You're getting a little far afield of the target, Max."
Max pressed his lips against Miss Green's pussy lips-his mouth next to her nether mouth.
He stuck out his tongue, and slid it between the labia. He licked and lapped and slurped wetly at her perfect sex.
Monica said, "Eat it up, Max. Get all those good juices in your mouth. Ummmm, I'll bet that luscious Miss Green tastes just divine!"
"She does," Max lifted his head to announce.
Miss Green firmly pushed his face back down where it belonged, pressed against her pussy. "Don't talk-lick."
Monica clapped in delight. "Bravo, Miss Green! I'll make a dominatrix out of you yet!"
"I couldn't think of anything I'd like more," Miss Green murmured.
Max's tongue was broad and thick. He laid the flat of it on Miss Green's pulsing clitoris, and lashed it back and forth, back and forth, tonguing fire into it.
Miss Green sighed. She held her palm pressed against the gleaming bald spot on the top of Max's head. Her other hand stroked her own breasts.
Monica knelt by the side of the couch. She said, "Here, I'll do that." She pressed her hand against Miss Green's breasts, and began to fondle them.
Miss Green turned her head to the side, to face Monica. The secretary parted her soft lips.
Her tongue tip jabbed out, and circled a ring of gleaming moisture on her lips. She tilted her head toward Monica.
Monica clamped her lips on Miss Green's, and kissed her hard. She thrust her tongue into the secretary's mouth. Their tongues entwined.
Miss Green's breasts were soft, pink-tipped cones of flesh jiggling on her torso. Monica fondled and caressed them.
The combination of Monica's kisses and Max's tonguing left Miss Green breathless and trembling.
Max's lips and tongue worked faster and faster. Monica stopped kissing Miss Green so she could watch Max, and make sure he was doing a good job.
She had to admit that there was nothing in his performance she could fault him on. Max's head bobbed, his jaws worked, and his nose and mouth and chin glistened with Miss Green's pussy juices.
Miss Green stretched out, and sighed luxuriously-and a trifle breathlessly. Her stiff pink nipples jutted upward, as though impelled by a kind of half-life of their own.
Miss Green started to sweat. The sweat adhered to the leather couch, causing her flesh to stick to it, and make soft unpeeling sounds when she shifted position as she writhed under Max's hard-working tongue.
Miss Green was at her climax. Her lush buttocks came off the couch as she raised her hips and ground her pussy against Max's mouth.
She wrapped her thighs around his face, and squeezed. Monica feared that the statuesque young woman might well strangle Max in the throes of her orgasmic excitement.
But as Max himself would be the first to admit-what a way to go!
But Miss Green wasn't going, she was coming.
She shuddered as her orgasm hit her. She cried out softly. The muscles in her thighs contracted and flexed.
She opened her legs, releasing Max. His face was nearly purple, and his eyes bulged. He sucked in great gasping breaths of air. His chest heaved.
Miss Green's sweating breasts and belly were covered with the royal red flush of orgasm, a deep red color that glowed under the flesh.
Monica patted Max's head. "That's my good little Max. See how good it was to taste Miss Green? You're going to do it all the time, from now on."
Max bobbed his head in eager agreement.
Monica said, "Since you were so diligent, I think I will permit you a reward. Now that you've lubricated Miss Green's pussy with your saliva, and she's filled with her own juices, you may get on her and fuck her."
Max's cock was red and hard. The swollen underside, pulsing with thick blue veins, brushed Miss Green's smooth polished thighs as he crawled up the couch on his belly.
Miss Green spread her long legs wide open. Max knelt between them. He groaned as Monica took his cock and hand, and guided it to the tender target between her legs.
Miss Green lifted her arms, and placed her hands on Max's chest. Now that his cock head was safely lodged inside her, Monica gripped his shoulders from above, and the two women lowered him down on Miss Green.
Miss Green said, "He's not in me very deep."
"Don't worry," Monica laughed, "I'll fix that!"
She rose and crossed the room and scooped up Max's discarded trousers. She slipped his belt clear and free of the loops.
She cracked it once. It made a dull but nasty smacking sound in the empty air. She hurried back to the couch.
Monica doubled the strap and tapped it ominously against her palm. "I told you that you were going to be punished, remember, Max?"
She brought down the strap on his plump buttocks. The belt cracked against tender flesh. Max cried out in pain.
The stroke also produced another effect.
When it landed on his buttocks, Max tightened them reflexively, and thrust his hips forward.
This caused his cock to shove deep into Miss Green's pussy. Realizing what Monica's plan was, Miss Green smiled hugely.
Max relaxed somewhat, pulling his cock back. Monica slammed the strap down on his ass again.
Once more, Max howled and thrust forward, burying his cock deep in Miss Green so that the base of his shaft pressed against her yielding pussy lips.
Miss Green moved her hips in response. She wrapped her arms around Max's head, pressing it against the softness of her breasts.
Monica said, "This is how you keep these god-damned slaves in line, Miss Green!"
"I will!" Miss Green assured her.
Monica devilishly wielded the strap, beating Max's until it was bright red and criss-crossed with weals and welts.
Max wriggled back and forth, his hard cock pumping in and out of Miss Green's hot, dripping pussy. The secretary synchronized her hip movements with his, so that Max gave her one of the most vigorous fuckings he had ever given her.
As she beat his ass, Monica unzipped her jumpsuit to the crotch, and fondled her pussy with her free hand. Her fingers flew over her clitoris, rubbing it wildly.
Monica whipped Max's ass while he fucked. She whipped him so hard he was crying, but in between sobs he begged for more.
Miss Green's long legs thrashed. Monica could see Max's cock sliding out from inside the secretary's cunt during the withdrawal strokes.
His cock was red and oiled. He would pull back so that only the head was lodged inside Miss Green.
Then Monica would swing the strap down on his ass, and he would thrust forward, plunging his member deep into her.
Max sobbed in pain. Miss Green pulled his head down beween her breasts. His head was enveloped by her soft flesh.
Monica whipped him. He twisted and moaned. Miss Green fed her breast into his open mouth. Max greedily sucked the nipple.
Miss Green's forearms hung across Max's broad, hairy back. His shoulders were slick with sweat.
He pumped faster and faster. Monica increased the tempo of the strapping to match his excitement.
Max thrust deep into Miss Green, and came.
The nipple in his mouth muffled his groaning gasp of release. He lifted his head. His eyes were round and white and staring in a red face.
Miss Green was cool and relaxed. Her soft lips curved upward in a smooth smile of pleasure.
Max shot his semen inside the statuesque secretary. His body stiffened, then collapsed, all tension finally released.
He rested his head on Miss Green's bosom. Tears from the whipping streamed down his face.
Miss Green patted and fondled his balding head.
Monica's hand was still working hard in her pussy, stroking her irritated clitoris.
She could have brought herself off, or had Max or Miss Green (or both) bring her off, but she decided against it.
She had a busy day and night ahead of her, and she would find sexual satisfaction later. This would insure that she would stay hot and ready.
She took her hand out of her crotch. The fingers glistened with juices. She stuck them in her mouth, and licked them clean. She liked the way she tasted.
Max said, "Would you untie me, please?"
"Not so fast, Max, not so fast," Monica said. "There's still a few things you have to do."
"I-I don't understand."
"You came inside Miss Green. Now, you'll have to be a big boy, and clean up after yourself-with your tongue!"
"You can't be serious!"
"No? Maybe you'd like me to whip your ass some more, just to convince you that I mean business?"
"No, please, don't do that!" Max was pale under his California tan. "You want me to go down on Miss Green, after I came in her?"
"Correct."
Miss Green said, "You heard the lady, Max."
Monica said, "I hope you've been paying attention, Miss Green. After all, I can't be here all the time to keep Max in line, but someone's got to do it. He needs the controlling and correcting hand of a strong woman."
"Don't I know it!" Miss Green said.
"I can't be here all the time, but you can, Miss Green. I'm going to teach you how to dominate Max every day of his life."
"I can't Wait!"
"I'd say you made a good start today, but it's only the beginning. To keep little Max in line, you should discipline him every day without fail."
Max groaned, "Every day?"
Monica said, "To control this nasty overgrown child, you must make him fear you. And the only way to do that is with pain, the pain of a whipping or tight bondage or penis restraint. When Max learns that any disobedience will earn him swift punishment, then he'll learn to behave. You're a big woman, and I have no doubt that you can beat the fear of Woman into Max, Miss Green."
"No doubt," Miss Green agreed.
Monica said, "And let me warn you, little Max, that I'll be keepings in close contact with Miss Green, and I'll be monitoring your progress. If you give her any trouble, I'll make you pay for it."
"Oh, I'm sure that I won't have any trouble," Miss Green said. "Max is a dear, as long as you let him know who's boss."
"My sentiments exactly," Monica said.
She opened her pocketbook, took out a piece of paper, and slipped it into the pocket of Miss Green's sleeveless vest, which was lying on the floor.
Monica said, "I've given you my card, Miss Green. Please feel free to call me any hour of the day or night, with your questions or comments. I think it would be mutually beneficial if you and I should, er, get together soon."
"I'd love it," Miss Green said. "I'll call you in a day or two, and let you know how I'm getting along with Max."
"Please do so," Monica said. "And don't forget that the three of us have a date for Friday, to go shopping for girl's clothes for Max."
"I wouldn't forget that. I'm looking forward to it so."
"Max, you'd better make sure that there's plenty of funds in your charge accounts. There's so many clothes and things that I want to put you in!"
Monica zipped up her jumpsuit, and gathered together her belongings. As she did so, Miss Green firmly pushed Max's head down to her pussy.
Max was hesitant. His face was poised over her damp pubic curls.
Miss Green said, "Eat it, Max. It's not poison. You might even grow to like the taste of your own come."
"He'd better," Monica laughed. "Because he's going to be doing a lot of it!"
Miss Green pushed Max's head down into her crotch, so that his face pressed against her pussy. Mastering a shudder, Max started to lick and slurp.
Monica said, "I'll be able to leave with a clear conscience, knowing Max is in good hands. And Max, if Lucinda has any more bouts of balkiness or stage fright, you just call me and let me take care of the problem."
"Lucinda?" Miss Green said. "Lucinda Richards?"
"Didn't you know?" Monica asked. "Lovely Lucinda is a screaming submissive."
"You don't say!"
"You should cultivate her acquaintance, Miss Green. Lucinda's a spoiled brat if you let her have her way. But if you rule her with a firm hand, you'll find that she can be positively delicious!"
Monica licked her lips to show exactly what she meant.
Miss Green smiled languorously as Max ate her. "Don't stop now, Max, you're just getting started-"
There was a soft, distant rumble from below.
A New Yorker might have compared it to the muted rumble of subway train passing below. Vibrations rose up through the floor.
But there were no subways here.
An overhead light fixture, supported from the ceiling on a chain, swayed slowly back and forth.
Miss Green, Max, and Monica froze like statues, listening, waiting.
The rumble was not repeated. After five tense minutes, they relaxed.
Monica shivered. "For a moment, I thought we were about to have an earthquake!"
"Me, too," Miss Green said. "But I guess it was only a very minor tremblor."
Max said, "I've heard of the earth moving when sex is really good, but that's moving it too much!"
Miss Green pushed his head back down to her pussy "Earthquake or not, nobody gave you permission to stop what you were doing. Now, you just stay down there and keep working!"
Miss Green "picked up Max's belt. She propped herself up on the arm of the couch, so she could look down at him.
She let the doubled strap fall lightly on his abused bottom. He shivered, but didn't break rhythm in what he was doing.
Playfully and softly at first. Miss Green raised the strap and let it fall on his behind. He tongued her more and more enthusiastically.
Miss Green made the hits harder and more stinging.
Monica said, "That's the idea, Miss Green. Just keep beating his ass, and he'll do anything you say-anything!"'
"Great," Miss Green said, "because there's some pretty wild things that I've got in mind for poor Max!"
CHAPTER FIVE
The red car climbed the brown hills overlooking the city. The smog had thickened. It hung like a cloud over the streets, veiling the buildings with a blue-gray haze.
On the radio, the announcer said, "Dr. Wilfred Manfredy of the University's geological survey team has expressed concern over recent movements along the San Andreas fault line. However, spokesmen from the state government at Sacremento disagree with the the Doctor's conclusion, and say that there is no cause for alarm. They-"
Monica shut off the radio. "California's been overdue for a major earthquake for the last twenty-five years."
"That'd really be something, wouldn't it?" Whitey said dreamily.
Here on the hills, where space was at a premium, houses were built right on the cliffsides. They perched precariously on stilts.
Monica pulled into the driveway of one of these homes. She killed the engine of the sports car.
Whitey got out, crossed around to her side, and opened the door for her. He picked up her suitcase, and followed her to the front door.
The door was made of massive, elaborately carved redwood. There was an antique brass knocker on it, but there was also'a doorbell on the side.
Monica rang the doorbell. Chimes sounded in the house. A moment later, the door opened.
A sour-faced maid in a gray uniform stood at the door. She had a plain face with a long thin nose and thin, tight lips. She was slender and erect and small-breasted.
Recognizing Monica, she nodded slightly, and held the door open for her.
Monica and Whitey entered the house. It was cool and air-conditioned. The maid firmly shut and locked the door.
She pointed toward the rear of the house. "They're waiting for you in the bedroom."
Monica said, "We need someplace to get changed."
The maid turned on her heel. Monica and Whitey followed her to an unused guest room.
"In here," the maid said. Her voice was as , dry as an Arizona summer. She walked off, and vanished behind a corner.
"Cheerful character, isn't she?" Whitey said.
He and Monica went into the guest room. Monica unzipped her jumpsuit, and stepped out of it.
Whitey said, "God, you're beautiful, Mistress."
He knelt and kissed her little foot. She said, "I'll undress you."
He took off his shoes. Monica peeled the Mexican shirt off his torso. She ran the flat of her hands over his muscled chest.
She pinched his tiny pink nipple erect, and kissed it. Her bare legs brushed against his denim-covered ones.
She took down his pants. He wasn't wearing underwear. His cock was thick, and when she began fondling it, it grew long and hard.
She said, "Everybody's getting to use this today but me. Oh, well, that's the way it goes."
She laid the suitcase on a chair and unzipped it. She took out her outfit, and one for Whitey, too.
She pulled a black leather micro-skirt on her hips. The-hemline came to the tops of her thighs. She put on a khaki blouse with a short black necktie.
Pinned to the blouse was a martial looking black armband. Glaring on the armband was a blood-red emblem, the universal symbol for woman, a circle with a vertical bar running from the bottom of it, and a smaller horizontal bar crossing the vertical one.
Whitey donned a pair of khaki trousers and a shirt similar to what Monica wore.
He pulled on a pair of shiny black boots, and tucked the trousers inside them. He, too, wore an armband with the Woman symbol embossed on it.
Monica sat down. Whitey helped her pull on a pair of thigh-high boots.
The boots were made of black patent leather. They were polished and gleaming, and reflected lights were shining bars on its glittering surface.
The boots had six-inch stiletto heels, an exaggerated arch, and sharp, pointed toes. They zipped up the sides.
Monica put on a heavy leather belt. Attached to it were a pair of shining stainless steel handcuffs, and a leather riding crop Whitey put on a similar belt.
Monica said, "How do I look?"
"I'd gladly be your prisoner anytime, Mistress," Whitey said.
Monica fondled his ass. "I know you would, but that's not the role that's called for now. You have to be dominant. Just follow my lead, and play it by ear."
She gathered up her thick dark masses of hair, and pinned them up to the top of her head, giving her a severely prim appearance.
She donned a pair of skin-tight black leather gloves. They were short, and only came up to her wrists.
She said, "Follow me."
She and Whitey went down the hall. Their boots thudded on the floor, echoing ominously through the house.
The maid was dusting in the den. She looked up as the martial pair passed by. Her face was blandly expressionless, neutral. She returned to her dusting.
With Monica in the lead, she and Whitey came to a door at the end of a hall. The sound of a man and woman talking and laughing came from inside.
Monica said, "Kick open the door."
She stood to one side. Whitey raised his foot and crashed it against the door.
It flew back on its hinges, and slammed into the wall.
A couple sat on the bed in a state of partial undress.
She was beautiful. Her name was Lisa Lund, and she was a movie star, one of the top ten female box office draws in the country.
He was not so attractive. His name was Ted Raines. At one time he had been a political activist of note, appearing at various strikes and sit-ins where he did his level best to fan disputes into full-blown confrontations.
But that was in the Sixties, and the Sixties were as dead as the fabled dodo bird.
Ted had married Lisa, and gone Hollywood. He still had political ambitions, but he had channeled them into the mainstream.
Lisa was thirty years old, and a celebrated American beauty. She had long legs, a narrow waist, and high, firm, voluptuous breasts.
A magnificent mane of honey-colored hair tumbled down her back, framing the exquisite face which was her fortune.
Her eyes were pale blue, and her lips were soft and red. She wore a pair of designer jeans, and a plain white bra.
Ted, her husband, wore baggy denim pants which were open at the top, with the zipper pulled down. Lisa's hand was rubbing his belly and working its way down when Monica and Whitey burst into the room.
Lisa and Ted froze in position. They were sitting on the bed. Near them was a mirror with a pile of white powder on it. A golden razor blade and two cocktail straws lay near it.
Monica shouted, "Freeze!"
Lisa picked up the mirror, and tried to hide it under the bed. Monica snatched it from her.
"Trying to conceal evidence, eh?" Monica sneered. "That'll make it go all that much harder on you!"
Ted said, "Wait a minute, you can't just come barging in here like this!"
"No?" Monica laughed.
Lisa said, "Yes, this is a violation of our rights!"
Whitey leered at her. "Your rights aren't the only things that are going to be violated, honey!"
Ted said, "You can't talk to my wife like that!"
"Try and stop me."
Lisa said, "Where's your warrant to come in here?!"
Monica unhooked the leather riding crop from her belt. She slashed it down so that it whipped the mattress inches away from Lisa's curled leg.
Gasping, Lisa crawled back against the headboard of the bed. She looked sick, but her eyes shone with excitement and arousal.
Monica said, "That's my warrant, bitch! We members of the Supremacy Squad don't need warrants for politicals like you! We can do anything you can't stop us from doing!"
Ted asked, "Is this-an arrest?"
"Not necessarily," Monica said. "Not if you cooperate."
Whitey stood by the bedside, rocking impatiently back and forth on his heels, his muscular body quivering with tension and potential power.
The muscles in his neck were corded, and veins stood out on his forehead. He looked like he was ready to explode into violence at the drop of a hat, which was exactly the menacing impression he was trying to create.
Ted said, "The Supremacy Squad? I never heard of you!"
"We keep a low profile," Monica said. "Our mission is to investigate crimes against women, and take the appropriate action!"
"But I've committed no crimes against women," Lisa said.
"No? What do you call your last few pictures? By portraying women who submit to men, you are betraying the entire female race!"
"I'm sorry!" Lisa cried. "I didn't know! And I'm just an actress-I don't have any control over the pictures I make!"
"We think differently," Monica said. "We think that it's time you were taught a lesson!"
"What should we do with 'em?" Whitey snarled.
Monica said, "Before we do anything else, we must search them for concealed weapons!"
Lisa said, "That's ridiculous! We don't have weapons, we're peaceful people! And besides, even if we did have them, you can plainly see that there's no place to hide them in our clothes!"
Monica put the tip of the riding crop under Lisa's chin, and pushed upward. Lisa lifted her head in response.
Monica caressed her face with the tip of the crop. Lisa's eyes widened with fear. Her lips parted, and her breasts in their bra cups rose and fell as she took quick, breathless gasps.
Monica said, "You have a beautiful face. I would hate to have to spoil it, just because you didn't keep your mouth shut."
"Don't hurt me, please!" Lisa begged.
Monica, "Out of bed, now! Both of you! Move!"
She whipped Ted's thigh. He cried out in pain. Clutching his leg, he scrambled off the bed. So did Lisa.
"Up against the wall!" Monica said. "Move! You know the position! Hands flat against the wall, backs to us! Do it!"
Lisa and Ted hurried to obey. As she rushed past Monica, Lisa's breasts jounced in her white bra. Monica whipped her jean-covered bottom to hurry her on her way.
Lisa and Ted stood side by side on the wall. They leaned forward. They peeked over their shoulders to see what would happen next.
Monica moved behind them. "Spread those legs wider apart! Spread them, I say!"
Whitey stood in back of Lisa. He pressed his groin against her bottom. She squirmed and gasped.
He reached in front of her, and put his hands on her breasts. He kneaded and fondled the trembling mounds through the bra cups.
Lisa cried, "Please don't do that! Please!"
Ted said, "Keep your hands off my wife!" But he made no move to interfere, and remained in position with his hands against the wall.
"Shut up!" Monica slashed the riding crop against his bottom. Ted's face scrunched up as he howled in pain.
"God!" Lisa moaned. "Don't hurt him, please! I-I'll do anything you want me to do!"
"No, Lisa!" Ted cried.
Monica said, "Save your breath, the both of you. You are in our power. In any case, you will do whatever we demand. You will perform whatever acts we require of you."
Whitey fondled Lisa's breasts, throwing her into blushing confusion. He said, "Should I search the bitch now?"
"Wait a moment," Monica said. "I want to put this bad boy under control first."
Ted said, "Hey, what are you doing?! Hey!"
Monica patted him down, frisking him like a cop with a suspect. Caressingly she ran her leather-gloved hands over his arms and shoulders and chest.
Ted shivered.
Monica patted his buttocks. She ran her hands along the outsides and insides of his thighs.
She put her hand on his groin. His cock was hard and bulging. She squeezed the member through the trousers.
"Find anything?" Whitey asked.
"I can't tell," Monica said. "I'll have to strip-search him!"
"You can't get away with this!" Ted protested. "This is a free country!"
Whitey and Monica had a good laugh over that one.
Monica gripped a fistful of Ted's hair. She yanked it, pulling his head backward so that his neck muscles were corded and strained.
She hissed, "I can give you a great deal of pain, little man. So be a good boy. Do what you're told, and don't give me any trouble!"
"I won't," Ted promised. "I-I'm sorry!"
Monica opened his pants, and pulled them down. He had a blocky torso, with a covering of fine black hair.
His trousers stopped sliding down because his legs were spread so wide. He wasn't wearing any underwear.
Monica said, '"The criminal and deviant minds are ingenious when it comes to concealment. You can't afford to overlook anything or anywhere."
She parted his buttocks, spreading them to the sides, revealing his hairy crack and his tiny, puckered asshole.
"I'm not hiding anything back there," he said uncomfortably.
"We'll see," Monica said.
She raised her finger to her lips, and wet it with lots of saliva. She touched the glistening leather fingertip to Ted's anus.
His face reddened with shame. He grunted when Monica shoved her finger up his ass.
It was a tight fit. She wriggled the finger around inside him. She didn't put all of it in him, just about two inches or so, just to humiliate him by penetrating him in front of the others.
She took the finger out, and wiped it clean on his buttocks. "Well, you're not hiding anything up there, but it's better to be safe than sorry. Stand up straight and close your legs some."
Ted obeyed. His jeans fell to his bony ankles.
Monica said, "Turn around."
Ted turned to face her. His hands dropped to his crotch to conceal it. Monica whipped the backs of his hands smartly with the crop.
Crying out, he raised his hands. His erect member jutted out in front of him.
Whitey said, "Looks like he was concealing something after all!" He laughed at his own joke.
"Oh, Ted, how could you?" Lisa sighed.
Monica rubbed the riding crop against the underside of his swollen shaft. He licked his lips and said, "Please ... please don't."
Whitey said, "Looks like you've found a new admirer."
"I think you are right," Monica said. "This treatment agrees with you, eh, boy?"
"No!" Ted cried. "It doesn't!"
"Don't add lying to your crimes," Monica said. "I know how to get the truth from naughty boys like you. Confess. Confess your desires. You know that you have met your match. You long to submit. You ache to throw yourself at my booted feet and cover them with kisses. Confess."
Monica moved toward him. He stepped back, but he was only a few feet from the wall, and he soon backed into it and could retreat no further.
Monica pressed against him. His red cock rubbed against her black leather skirt. Her breasts, straining against the khaki fabric of her blouse, grazed his chest.
Monica put her arms around him. She rubbed her leather-booted thigh against him. "You want to submit to my will. Totally, unquestioningly. Confess."
"I-I-"
Monica pressed the tip of her stiletto heel against the top of his foot. "Confess!"
"I, I," Ted began. He took a deep breath, and started again. "Let me serve you. Please. I beg you!"
"Ted!" Lisa cried, shocked.
Whitey said, "Don't be too hard on him, honey. Nobody can resist her. You'll find that out for yourself."
Monica released Ted, and stepped back. "On your knees!"
Ted knelt at her feet.
Monica lifted her leg, and placed her boot on his shoulder. Ted pressed his face against the polished leather, trance-like fever in his eyes.
Monica commanded, "Kiss the boot!"
Ted pressed his lips against the exqusitely shaped boot top. He covered it with ardent kisses.
"Enough."
Ted looked up Saliva was smeared around his mouth. Monica wasn't wearing any panties, and her pussy was nakedly beautiful.
"You're looking up my dress, you bad boy!" Monica said. "Oh, you're too naughty for me! I'll have to do something about you!"
She pulled the covers and the blankets down off the bed. She patted the mattress. "Get your ass up here," she told Ted.
He got on the bed. Monica unclipped the handcuffs from her belt. She clapped one cuff around the wrist of Ted's left hand.
She ran the chain holding the cuffs together around a brass post at the head of the bed. She worked the chain through, and clapped the second cuff shut around his right wrist.
He was chained to the bedpost. Monica patted his bottom. "This will keep you out of trouble!"
She turned and faced Whitey and Lisa. The movie star's hands were still pressed against the wall. Whitey's hands were still clamped on her lush breasts.
Monica said to him, "You have neglected your duty. I ordered that this bitch be strip-searched! Do so immediately!"
"No!" Ted shouted. "Keep your hands off of her!"
"Keep your filthy mouth shut!" Momca thundered. She brought the crop down across his thigh.
Ted shrieked and writhed on the bed. As he thrashed, the handcuff chain rattled against the bronze bedpost.
"You shut up!" Monica said.
"And don't worry about your wife," Whitey chuckled. "She's in very good hands!"
Lisa moaned with fear as Whitey roughly fondled her. He said, "Let's have a look at those world famous tits!"
He unhooked her bra. He pulled her hands down from the wall. He slid the straps off her shoulders, and pulled the cups off her breasts.
Lisa's beautiful breasts dangled free. They were soft and creamy and yielding, with fat pink nipples.
Whitey reached in front of her, and fondled the breasts. He pinched the nipples erect.
Lisa moaned, "No, no." Tears rolled down her cheeks. But she stood motionless and made no move to resist Whitey.
Still fondling her bosom with one hand, he unsnapped the button of her jeans, and pulled down the zipper.
He took hold of the waistband, and pulled the jeans down off her lovely, womanly hips. He pulled them down her smooth polished thighs and calves.
She wore a pair of pink satin panties trimmed with little lace frills. The satin fabric was stretched taut across the rounded cheeks of her ass.
The panties were small and wispy, and barely covered the bottom of her cheeks. The vertical crack dividing her buttocks was plainly visible. Whitey pulled down the panties, leaving her completely naked.
Monica said, "She is very lovely, your wife."
Ted groaned.
Monica reminded Whitey, "Remember to search her inside and out."
"Right." Whitey told Lisa, "Bend forward from the waist."
Lisa bent forward. She was so loose and limber that she was able to rest her palms on the floor in front of her.
Her breasts were firm and lovely as they dangled. Her belly was sucked into a taut hollow. Her bush was curly and tufted.
Whitey knelt behind her. Lisa's face blushed bright crimson when Whitey parted her buttocks, and probed her anus.
He said, "I'll have to probe this intimately and in depth."
Holding her buttocks apart, he pressed his head forward. He kissed Lisa's asshole, then -rimmed the circle of it with his tongue tip.
She flinched when the hot wet tongue contacted her ultra-sensitive membrane. After a moment or two of his skilled tonguing, she shivered and sighed. Her nipples were stiff.
Ted said, "What-what's he doing to her?!"
"Nothing that you won't be doing for me later," Monica said.
Ted lay on his side on the bed, watching Whitey and his wife. Ted's cock was hard. His hands were cuffed to the bedpost, and he peered over his arms.
Monica sat down on the edge of the bed. Her gloved hands fondled and kneaded Ted's buttocks. He blushed at the intimate invasion, but made no move to resist. Actually, he moved so that Monica would be able to get at him more easily.
Whitey thrust his tongue inside Lisa's anus. Her face glowed with pleasure. He shoved his tongue in and out, in and out, like it was a miniature penis and he was fucking her with it.
Lisa began moving her hips in response to his tongue. Ted groaned again, but couldn't tear his eyes off her.
Whitey took his tongue out. Lisa moaned with disappointment.
Whitey stood up. "Nothing hidden in there." His cock was erect, and he squeezed it. "I've got something I'd like to conceal in there myself!"
Monica said, "You haven't finished searching her yet."
Whitey told Lisa, "Turn around and face the bed. We wouldn't want your loving husband to miss any of the juicy details."
Lisa faced them. She hung her head in shame.
Whitey said, "Spread your legs."
"What are you going to do?!"
"Shut up and spread!"
Lisa obeyed. Whitey rubbed the back of his hand against the soft curls of her pubic bush.
Ted shouted, "Don't you dare touch her there!"
"Buddy, I aim to do a lot more than just touch her," Whitey grinned.
Lisa flinched as his strong fingers stroked her soft pussy lips. He slipped his middle finger between her labia.
He pushed it in. Lisa grunted and wriggled her hips. Whitey buried the finger up the knuckle. Lisa shuddered as he wriggled his finger inside her.
After a moment, Whitey took it out. Monica said, "Did you find anything?"
"Yeah-I found out that she's wet inside!"
"That's very naughty of her," Monica said. "This is a police investigation, not a swing session."
"What do you recommend?"
"Beat her ass!"
He took Lisa's wrist, and pulled her to a chair. He sat down, and pulled her over his lap, with her buttocks facing up, and her pussy rubbing against his legs.
Lisa begged for mercy, but Whitey was merciless. He circled her slender waist with an arm of iron, and held her in place while he spanked her with his bare hand.
Lisa cried and wiggled. Her breasts rubbed his taut thigh. Her mane of golden hair bobbed and whipped from side to side as she writhed under his hard hand.
Whitey beat her creamy white bottom red. The spanks sounded loud and meaty as they hit home with a solid thud'. , Lisa begged him in a breathless, child-like voice to stop. Whitey ignored her and beat her all the harder.
Monica got hot just watching it. She was wet inside her pusSy. She massaged her clitoris with her leather-gloved finger. She continued to fondle Ted's bottom and cock and balls.
Ted seemed to be suffering almost as much as his wife. He cried out when she cried out. He flinched when a solid spank landed on her curved rump.
Monica observed that his anguish didn't make his erection go away. If anything, it got harder and firmer while he watched her being spanked.
Finally, Whitey stopped. He pushed Lisa off his lap.
Tears streamed down her face. Her shoulders shook, and her breasts bobbed as she wept. She put her hands behind her, and rubbed her aching bottom.
Whitey stood up. There was a fat bulge in his crotch. He put his hand on her.
CHAPTER SIX
Whitey put his hand on Lisa's shoulder, and pressed downward.
He said, "Get on your knees, where you belong."
Lisa knelt in front of him, looking up. They stood in profile, facing each other. Monica and Ted could see everything that was happening.
Whitey unbuttoned his trousers, and pulled down his fly. He reached in, and fumbled out his hard cock.
It was stiff and red. It jutted out horizontally from his hips, a rod of flesh. The wedge-shaped head was thick and swollen and straining.
The member dangled in Lisa's upturned face. The shadow of the cock fell on her.
Lisa said, "Don't make me do this, please!"
Whitey wound her hair around his hand. He gripped his cock just behind the head.
Lisa said, "Please, no-"
He shoved his cock into her open mouth. The head rubbed against the inside of her cheek, bulging it out.
Ted tried to bury his face in the mattress. Monica gripped his head in her hands and turned it so that it faced the others.
"Watch," she hissed. "Look at it! See it!"
When the cock was inside her mouth, Lisa's behavior changed, like a switch had been thrown inside her mind.
She passionately slurped and sucked at the cock. Whitey pulled it out, and waved it in front of her.
Lisa pressed her lips against the head, and kissed it wetly, again and again. Her tongue flicked out and played over the cock.
She rubbed it against her soft cheek. She licked the sensitive underside of the shaft, tracing the course of a thick blue vein with her tongue tip.
Whitey's hairy balls were swollen. He groaned as Lisa licked them, running her tongue along the divide of the sac.
She gripped his cock, and guided it into her mouth. Whitey rubbed the head against the soft, yielding roof.
Lisa slurped her tongue around the knobbed cock head. Her cheeks were hollowed inward as she sucked on the member.
Whitey pushed his cock deep. Lisa gagged when the cock head bumped against the back of her throat.
He withdrew an inch or so to give her some breathing space. He shoved his cock in and out, in and out.
Whitey sighed deeply. He opened his shirt and took it off. It was limp with his sweat. Beaded drops of perspiration gleamed on his torso.
Still gripping Lisa's hair, he was able to guide her head where he wanted it. He rocked it back and forth and shoved his hips in response.
Lisa's breasts trembled. Her hand dropped between her legs. She fondled her pussy while she gave head.
Whitey stopped moving her back and forth, and held her in place.
His muscles rippled under the bronzed skin.
His cock quivered in Lisa's mouth. He came.
Semen gushed into her mouth. Monica shouted, "Make sure she swallows every last drop!"
Lisa's taut throat muscles worked as she gulped down the semen. Whitey held her head rigidly in place.
He shuddered as his orgasm shook him. Lisa made slurping sounds as she swallowed the semen.
He relaxed. He released her hair. The spiral of golden hair unwound, and spilled over her shoulders and down her back and over her breasts.
Whitey caressingly smoothed down the hair.
He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. His face was flushed with the pleasurable afterglow.
He withdrew his cock from her mouth. She pursed her lips, and pressed them against the glistening shaft which emerged from her mouth.
There was a liquid popping sound as the head came free of her lips. Lisa kissed the tip.
A milk-white droplet of semen oozed out of the corner of her mouth. She stuck out her tongue, and lapped it up.
Monica said, "Bring her over here-to the bed."
He put his hand under her arm, and lifted her to her feet. He led Lisa to the bed.
Monica said, "Cuff her to the bedpost, like I've done to her husband."
Whitey pushed Lisa down on the bed. She cried out as her beaten bottom touched down on the mattress.
Whitey unclipped his cuffs from his belt, and locked them on Lisa's slender wrists, manacling her to the bedpost.
The chains holding the bracelets together were some inches longer than usual. This permitted some freedom of movement-Lisa and Ted could turned on their backs or their bellies as the need arose.
Lisa and Ted lay on their sides, facing each other.
Monica said, "You love your wife, don't you?"
"Yes, of course," Ted muttered.
"Then show it! Kiss her!"
Ted moved as close to her as his cuffs would allow, and Lisa met him half-way. Their lips met in an open-mouthed kiss. Their tongues fenced.
Whitey pulled off his boots. He removed his trousers. His semi-erect cock dangled against his thigh.
Monica pulled her khaki blouse free of the leather micro-skirt, and unbuttoned it.
Her skin-tight leather gloves were so thin that she had no trouble manipulating the tiny buttons. She took off her blouse and let it flutter to the floor.
She cupped her breasts in her palms, lifted them, and let them drop. They jiggled softly. The pink points on the tips of them hardened.
Lisa and Ted broke off their kiss. Monica stood at Ted's side of the bed, her legs spread, her hands on her hips.
Whitey stood on Lisa's side of the bed. He was naked. He gripped his cock.
Lisa said, "What are you going to do?!"
Monica said, "We're going to rape you side by side!"
Whitey knelt on the bed. He gripped Lisa's ankles, and spread her long legs. Her pubic bush was dark and curly.
Ted watched as Whitey crawled between his wife's legs. Lisa did not resist. She lay motionlessly.
Whitey let his cock fall on her smooth thigh. He rubbed the sensitive underside against the tender flesh.
His cock jerked and quickened with life. It lengthened and uncoiled like a red snake rising erect.
It was full and straight and splendid. The swollen head was so dark, it was almost purple. He stretched out on Lisa. The chain links rattled against the metal bedpost as she writhed underneath him.
Whitey guided his cock between her legs. He shivered as his cock head pressed against the butterfly softness of her pussy lips.
He pushed the wedge-shaped head between the lips, and shoved forward. Lisa whimpered.
His cock head was lodged inside her. She was wet. He gripped her hips. Her tanned flesh was pale and white where his strong fingers gripped her.
He pinned her hips to the mattress and penetrated her.
Lisa gasped as the cock forced its way inside her. She turned her head to the side, and squeezed her eyes shut.
Ted watched his wife being fucked with hot, staring eyes. Suddenly, his view of the proceedings was interrupted as Monica straddled him, and sat on his face.
She was positioned so that she was facing his cock. Her black patent leather thighs bracketed his head.
The leather skirt was so short that it rode high above her thighs. Her soft bottom and hairy pussy descended on Ted's gasping face.
The gasp was stifled by hot pussy pressing down on his open mouth.
Monica pressed her leather thighs against his cheeks. Ted's wet lips rubbed her labia, thrilling her with sensual friction.
She leaned forward. Her buttocks and pussy were thrust even more directly against his face.
His cock was hard. She lifted it and teasingly ran her tongue over the swollen head. Her black-gloved hand gripped the red shaft.
Ted's tongue worked frantically, rubbing over her clitoris. It circled the fleshy node, then pressed and flickered across it.
Monica rocked her hips in response to the rhythm of his penetrating tongue.
Lightly, with a feather touch, she fondled his swollen balls. His groan of pleasure was muffled by her pussy and thighs.
The bed rocked as Whitey fucked Lisa. He cupped her trembling breasts and pushed them together, plumping them up.
He rubbed his face against the erect nipples. He kissed first one nipple and then the other, so that the pink points glistened with his saliva.
He pressed the breasts together so that the ' nipples were close. Lisa moaned. He took both nipples into his mouth at the same time and sucked them.
All the while, he fucked her roughlypassionately-thrillingly.
Lisa moved her hips in response to his surging cock. His shaft glided over her lubricated membranes, exciting her with each deep thrust.
Like her husband, her hands were cuffed behind her head. Her arms pressed against her cheeks.
She moaned. Sweat trickled down her face, plastering her hair to her forehead.
Whitey pressed his mouth against hers, and kissed her brutally.
Monica rose off of Ted's face. His face was wet and red. She turned around so they were face to face.
She straddled his hips. Her legs were bent and folded beneath her. She sat on the backs of her boots, resting her plump bottom against the leather.
She held his cock straight up. It was long and firm and fine. Saliva from her mouth was smeared on the head of it.
She ran a teasing finger up the center of his sac, along the divide. Ted moaned.
She rubbed her fingertip against his nipples, until they were erect. She squeezed and pinched them, and laughed at his gasps.
She squatted over his cock. She lowered herself so that the tip of his cock just touched her pussy lips.
She rubbed the cock tip back and forth along her soft labia. Ted's toes curled upward. Muscles rippled in his legs.
Monica sat down. She guided the cock head between her pussy lips. Ted's saliva silvered her pubic bush, matting the hairs together.
Monica took the cock inside her. Ted squeezed his eyes shut. His mouth was a wide, moaning O.
Monica shivered as the cock entered her. She was well lubricated with her natural juices and his saliva from eating her.
The cock was thick and blunt. It filled her like a peg. She sighed as she took the fleshy rod deep inside her.
She pressed her leather-covered thighs against his bare legs. His cock rubbed against the wet velvet lining of her cunt.
She leaned forward, and rocked back and forth. Her movements caused the cock to pump in and out of her.
As she moved, her clitoris got plenty of stimulation. The fleshy node was irritated, and each new contact sent heat waves through her.
She leaned far forward. Her dangling breasts slapped Ted's face. He panted and sighed as Monica rubbed her bosom flesh against his wet, overheated face.
Lisa made high, wailing sounds of pleasure. She wrapped her hands around the bedpost and hung on tight.
She and Whitey were oiled with sweat. It caused their bodies to slide clingingly as they fucked.
Lisa moved her body back and forth like a machine. Sometimes Whitey lay directly on top of her/his chest pressing her breasts flat, and causing the yielding flesh to ooze to the sides, like the filling in a sandwich.
Sometimes he would rise up, and Lisa's breasts would be free. When that happened, she was moving so fast that her breasts were a jiggling blur of motion, like jelly on a plate.
Whitey reached under her, and cupped her buttocks. His strong hands gripped her cheeks, digging into them.
He held Lisa at the optimum angle for his thrusts. His cock fit her pussy like a finger inside a rubber glove.
She made a quavery screeching sound. It sounded like a distant siren. It only faded when she drew a breath, and returned at full blast after that.
Whitey gritted his teeth. He pinned her hips, and thrust deep. His cock head bumped the mouth of her womb.
His member stiffened inside her, and stopped moving. He came inside her pussy.
Lisa exhaled with a hissing breath which sounded like steam escaping a leaky radiator.
Her eyes rolled up in her head, so that only the whites of them showed, making her look for an instant like a sex-maddened zombie.
Semen spurted inside her. It gushed over her pink sleek membranes, cooling and bathing and soothing them.
Whitey's head dropped, and his mouth fastened on her breast. He kissed and licked and sucked the nipple.
The mouth of Lisa's womb opened and closed convulsively. The thrill of it caused more semen to be squeezed from his cock.
Lisa's face was covered with sweat. It looked like a pail of water had been thrown on it.
Monica wasn't resting herself. She was riding her human mount to orgasm-hers and his.
Ted's lips were pressed against her hard nipple. He sucked like a hungry, greedy infant at her breast.
Her hips moved faster and faster. Ted's body was bowed. His bottom was lifted clear of the mattress, and his muscles were tensed like rock.
Suddenly, he released the nipple. Now freed, Monica's breasts slapped his face again and again.
He whispered, "I-I-oh God, I'm coming!"
Semen erupted from his cock. Monica moved like a wild woman, shaking back and forth like a cow girl on a bucking bronco.
Her efforts paid off in a white-hot orgasm that sizzled inside her pussy.
The flashpoint was her clitoris. A fireball of hot pleasure expanded outward, radiating through her pussy, sleeting through her thighs and belly and breasts.
She sat upright on Ted's cock. It quivered as it spewed semen inside of her.
Ted's gasping cry of release was forced out from deep in his belly. His eyes were wide and staring and saw nothing as he orgasmed.
The room was suddenly very quiet.
Motion had ceased on the other side of the bed. Whitey lay stretched out on Lisa's body. They were drained and exhausted, and the only sound they made was the deep breaths they took.
Monica sat on Ted's cock. Her body vibrated like she was being jolted with a hot electric current.
Monica's face was a strained mask, creased with lines of tension. She gritted her teeth. Her breasts bobbed as she vibrated.
The tension in her face was erased by the hot glow of orgasm which rippled through her.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Her head bobbed forward until her chin rested on her chest. She relaxed the pressing grip of her leather-covered thighs on Ted's hips.
The lines in her face smoothed out. Her lips curved upward in a smile of satisfaction.
A red flush crept up her sweating belly and breasts. It was a rose blush that could barely be seen beneath her tan.
She said, "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ... "
Something was happening on the other side of the bed. She opened her bleary eyes.
Whitey was on his elbows and knees. His rump was curved as he moved it backward, withdrawing his cock from inside Lisa.
The lubricated shaft appeared from within her pussy. He worked the knobbed head clear of the labia. Semen oozed out from her pussy lips, and spilled onto the sheets.
"More," Lisa sighed. "More, please! Don't take it out yet-it's still hard!"
"Don't worry," Whitey said. "I'm not finished with you yet!"
Kneeling on the mattress, he wrapped his hands on her hips, and began turning her over.
Lisa said, "What-what are you doing?!"
"I came in your mouth and your pussy. There's still one place that I haven't come inside yet!"
"No! Not there!" Lisa said breathlessly.
Monica unfolded her legs, and rose upward. Ted's cock glided along her membranes as she rose.
His cock came free of her pussy. It was semi-erect. It fell backward, and lay in a fold of his thigh.
Monica stood balancing precariously on her spiked heels and pointed toes. She stood upright on the mattress, swaying from side to side.
She could feel come oozing inside her.
Whitey turned Lisa on her tummy. She looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide as she begged him not to do it to her.
Whitey scooped up a pillow from the floor. He hooked an iron forearm under her tummy, and lifted it clear of the bed.
He stuffed the pillow under her so that her ass was the most elevated part of her body. He fondled her quivering buttocks.
Lisa's face was pressed against the mattress. She had to turn it to the side to speak.
Whitey knelt behind her. He let his cock fall along the crack of her ass. It fit in the groove like a hotdog in a bun.
Lisa begged, "If you're going to do it, for God's sake grease it up first! Please!"
Whitey lifted her hips, and slipped two fingers inside her pussy. Lisa moaned as she was penetrated.
He scooped out a fat dollop of his own come. He parted Lisa's buttocks and smeared the semen in the crack, stuffing it into her puckered anus.
He put his finger inside her. She grunted and groaned as he stretched her out inside. The flexible state of her anus demonstrated that she was no stranger to being fucked from behind.
Whitey smeared the head of his cock with saliva. He prodded Lisa's tight anus with his cock head.
Lisa and Ted both begged him not to do it.
Monica knew how to shut Ted up. She sank to her knees, straddling his head.
Ted's mouth was open. He was begging Whitey to spare his wife this last penetration, when Monica muffled him by sitting on his face.
He squirmed beneath her, his chin and nose and lips rubbing against her pussy.
She took hold of his ears, and held his face in position. She rocked her hips forward, thrusting her pussy into his face.
Ted resisted for a second. Monica's thighs pressed against his head.
Obediently his tortgue extended, and stabbed into her slot. He licked her clitoris, tasting his own come.
Lisa cried out. Whitey pushed and prodded and struggled and finally shoved his cock head past her tight-gripping sphincter muscle.
It was good and hot and tight. His cock head quivered as it touched the creamy membranes inside her.
Lisa gasped and groaned. Inch by pulsing inch, Whitey penetrated her tiny anal opening with his penis.
After he had gotten past the sphincter, the rest was easy. His cock slowly and inexorably pushed deeper into her.
Lisa was crying and wailing. She rose on her knees, raising up her bottom even more to make it easy for him to get to.
Her arms were stretched out in front of her. The gleaming handcuffs braceleted her slender wrists, chaining her to the cool bedpost.
Her face and upper body were pressed against the mattress. Her belly was taut and hollowed and clear of the sheets. Her flexing legs were folded and her ass was raised.
Whitey stopped when he could go no further, when the base of his shaft was circled by her stretched anus, and his balls brushed against her crack.
Then he started to move back and forth, in and out. He pulled back until only his cock head remained inside-then he thrust forward, burying it deep.
Lisa's head lifted from the mattress. An intense expression of mingled pleasure and pain was on her face.
She groaned when Whitey thrust into her. Her pink-tipped breasts bobbed and dangled.
He reached under her, and groped for her clitoris. He handled her roughly, and she cried out in pain.
His finger slipped between her labia, and located the pearly clitoris. It throbbed when he pressed his fingertip against it.
He massaged the clitoris while he fucked her in the ass.
Monica climbed off Ted's face. Semen and saliva were sticky on her soft inner thighs.
Ted's mouth and chin were smeared. Monica gripped his face, and turned his head to the side so that it was facing Lisa and Whitey.
Monica said, "Here, take a good look at what he's doing to your wife!"
Ted whispered, "Oh, my poor Lisa!"
Monica laughed harshly. "Don't waste any sympathy on her! You're in line for the same treatment!"
"What?!"
She leered down at him. "I'm going to fuck you in the ass!"
"No! Please, not that!"
Monica stood on the floor and took off her leather micro-skirt. She didn't want it getting in the way.
Reluctantly she pulled off her black leather gloves. She opened her bag, and took out a dildo and a tube of lubricant.
Ted turned on his side, so he was facing the edge of the bed. He watched with fascinated horror as Monica stood in front of him and tauntingly strapped the dildo to her hips.
The black, artificial member dangled obscenely. Monica commanded, "Turn over!"
"No, I won't!"
She picked up the riding crop. "If you don't want me to whip your balls and cock, you'll turn over, by God!"
He quickly obeyed.
Monica said, "Double your legs under you, like Lisa's doing! Move!"
She slashed his behind with the crop, lending weight to her words. He shrieked with pain.
Whitey turned his head to one side to see what was happening. His eyes were glazed, and he smiled lazily.
Lisa was off in her own private world. She was shivering, and her teeth chattered, even though it was warm in the room.
Ted folded his legs under him, raising his bottom. His chest and head were pressed against the mattress.
Monica greased up his bottom with lubricant. He was no virgin in his ass, either.
She oiled up the dildo. She knelt behind him, her leather boots sliding on the sweat-damp sheets.
Ted wailed as the dildo head bumped his anus. Monica slapped his ass. "Relax," she said. "It'll hurt worse if you don't."
She had smeared plenty of jelly on his puckered anus, and stretched it with her fingers. But he wailed like a girl when she stuffed the dildo head past his sphincter and inside his rectum.
He wailed even louder as she gripped his hips, and thrust forward, pushing the dildo slowly and deliberately into him.
He wailed, but his body betrayed him. His cock hardened, and jutted out from his hips like a handle of red flesh.
Monica thought that was most obliging. of him. She gripped the handle, and used it as a kind of rein to control the movements and direction of the male animal she was penetrating.
As she fucked him in the ass, she stroked and massaged his rod. It was hot to her touch. His balls were swollen.
She massaged him until he came. She thrust the dildo deep into him at the moment of climax.
Semen spurted on the sheets, staining them. Ted wept like a baby.
Whitey came inside Lisa's ass. Semen spurted in her vitals. Her hands and legs slowly gave way, and she collapsed and lay flat on the bed.
Later, after the dildo had been taken out of Ted's ass, and the living cock taken out of Lisa's, Monica and Whitey got dressed.
Monica unlocked the cuffs on both of them, and dropped the metal bracelets in her bag.
Ted and Lisa crawled across the bed and embraced. They were drained, exhausted, abused and aching. They only had enough energy to kiss.
Monica covered them with a sheet.
She said, "Same time next week?"
"Definitely!" Ted and Lisa cried.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Monica and Whitey showered, then dressed in their street clothes. Lisa and Ted remained in bed, resting and recovering.
Monica and Whitey went to the front door. They were intercepted by the dour, grim-faced maid.
She. held out a green check. Monica took it. It was made out to her. The amount was generous-more than generous.
She noticed that Lisa signed the check, not Ted. Being a movie star paid better than being a failed political activist.
She couldn't have cared less, really. The only politics that interested her were sexual politics. All the rest was a mass of hot air.
Who held the power in the boudoir? Who ruled in bed? These were the important issues. Rule in the bedroom, and everything else will fall into line.
As she started toward the door, she heard the maid stifle an indignant gasp. Her prim, puritanical face was red and shocked.
Whitey grinned hugely. The maid slammed the door shut when they were outside. , Monica said, "What did you do?"
"Just gave her ass a friendly little pat, that's all."
"Naughty, naughty. That's not showing the proper respect for women."
"I thought I'd liven up her day."
"It would serve you right if I loaned you to her, and let her do whatever she wanted to do. That would be amusing."
Whitey said, "You wouldn't do that, would you, Mistress?"
"I might, or I might not. You'll just have to wait and see, my little pretty one."
They got into the red car. It was mid-afternoon. Monica drove off the hill and into the valley.
She drove to the trailer park. She stopped in front of Whitey's mobile home.
He said, "Thank you, Mistress. It's been a hell of a fine day."
"Thank you. You did your usual fine job."
"Would you like to come in for a while? Have some wine, get acquainted with June?"
"I'd like nothing bettei," Monica said. "Unfortunately, I still have a lot of unfinished business to attend to this afternoon."
"Too bad. Well, let's get together real soon-the three of us."
"Yes, the three of us," Monica echoed. "I'm looking forward to that."
A hand brushed aside the curtain covering one of the windows in the mobile home. June looked out the window.
Monica lifted her leg, and rested her foot on the seat cushion. She wriggled her toes. "Whitey."
"Yes?"
"Kiss your mistress goodbye, dear."
He knelt on the ground. He raised her foot to his lips, and kissed it. His lips left spots of moisture where they touched the shoe.
June remained expressionless.
Monica said, "I'll call you later tonight."
She drove out of the trailer park, and on to the freeway.
An hour later, she pulled into the driveway of her home in the canyon.
She got out of the car. The air seemed unnaturally heavy and dense. It was like being in the eye' of a hurricane.
A flock of birds roosted on the limbs of a tree on her property. Even as she looked at them, they suddenly took flight.
The birds flapped into the air, cawing, and made great circles in the sky.
That was strange, Monica thought to herself.
There was a rumble from below.
Monica turned white beneath her golden tan. Her eyes widened. She kicked off her high heels, and spread her legs to maintain her balance.
The ground shivered. The trees swayed, as though buffeted by a wind, although the air was dead calm..
Earthquake?
The rumbling faded, died. Monica waited, but the ground was still and unmoving. The only sign of the disturbance was the flocks of birds wheeling in the sky.
After a moment she relaxed, and some of the coloring returned to her face.
Living along the fault line was like living under the cone of a dormant volcano-one never knew when the sleeping giant would waken.
But the giant didn't stir this time. What had rocked the ground had been only a minor tremor, brief and passing.
Still, Monica couldn't help but be reminded of the truth of the old saying, "Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you die".
She picked up her shoes and suitcase, and went into the house.
Her bare feet padded along the wooden floor of the studio. She crossed to the cage, and pulled the black drape off it.
She said, "Hello, slave. Did you miss me while I was gone?"
George crouched in the cage, face pale, eyes sick with fear. He made stifled sounds from behind the gag.
Monica said, "Did you feel that earth tremor? Imagine if that had been a really big earthquake, so big that I couldn't get back home for a day or two. Or suppose I had an accident, and couldn't get back at all? You would have been in real trouble then, Georgie Porgie."
George's white, sick face showed that he had thought of the same thing.
Monica said, "Well, since you've been such a good doggie, I'll let you out of your cage for a little while. But don't make the mistake of thinking that I'm through with you yet, baby."
Monica unlocked the padlock securing the cage's lid and sides. She opened the top, and swung open the side grille.
She unlocked the chains which held him prisoner in the cage. "Don't be shy, doggie. Come on out."
George crawled out on his hands and knees. As soon as he was out of the cage, he collapsed on his side and lay there panting.
Monica untied the gag, and pulled her wadded panties out of his mouth. The panties had become compressed to the size of a golf ball, and were saturated with saliva.
George spit and choked, unable to speak. He gasped, "Water ... please, Mistress, water!"
Monica examined his cock. The vigor of his erection had diminished, but the cock ring had kept him in a semi-erect state.
She parted his buttocks, and withdrew the butt plug. George groaned as it came free of his anus.
Monica patted his bottom "I bet you're really stretched out now, hmmm? Probably just right to fuck with dildos. Maybe later I'll do just that."
She got a dog's bowl, and filled it with lukewarm tap water. She was glad to see that the earth tremors hadn't ruptured any pipes.
She set the bowl down in front of him. "Lap it up, like the dog you are."
He put his hands in front of him, and lowered his face to the bowl. He had to lap up the water with his tongue, just like a thirsty hound.
Monica found it all so amusing. When the bowl was empty, George rolled on his side, and lay there. Monica said, "Stand up."
"I can't."
"Do you dare refuse your mistress?" , "I want to get up," he wailed, "but I can't! I was bent over for so long that now I can't straighten up."
"Bullshit."
"Mistress, I can't!"
"We'll see about that!" Monica-went to the wall rack and took a rod off the peg it was hanging on.
The rod was whippy and flexible. Monica loomed over George. "Get up!" She slashed his plump ass with the rod.
George cried out in pain. "Mistress, please!"
"Get up!"
She whipped his bottom again and again. There were red stripes where the rod kissed flesh.
Groaning and panting, George uncurled himself and tried to rise. He knelt and reflexively put his hands behind him to protect himself.
Monica stopped whipping his bottom, and laid the rod across his shoulders instead.
Finally, after much struggle, George managed to get on his feet. He was hunched forward like an ancient man.
"I'm not interested in your excuses!" Monica shouted. "When I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed!"
"I'm sorry!" he wept.
"So you can't straighten out, hmmm? I know how to fix that!"
Using the whip, she herded him to the other side of the room. Chains hung from a bolt in the ceiling.
Cuffs were attached to the ends of the dangling chains. Monica unlocked the handcuffs which had been on George all day.
His hands were red and swollen and veiny The metal had cut into his flesh, leaving cuts and scratches and the grooved imprint of the bracelets in his flesh.
She fastened the iron cuffs on his wrist. George sobbed, "Please, Mistress, let me rest for just a little while!"
"No rest for slave's," she sneered.
When he was manacled, Monica went to the wall. A pulley with a crank handle was rigged to the hanging chains.
Monica turned the crank. It needed oil, and squeaked. As she turned the crank, the chains rose upward on the pulley, raising George's manacled hands along with them.
Monica turned the crank until George's arms were raised above his head. His muscles, such as they were, were taut and strained.
He had to rise on tiptoes to take some of the pressure off the joints of his shoulders. Monica slipped the stop bar onto the crankcase movement, locking the chains into place.
She said, "Like I told you before, I'm far from finished with you yet, doggie."
George said, "What-what are you going to do?"
"You'll find out." She cupped her chin in her hand, and stared thoughtfully at him. "After all the beautiful people I've seen today, it's harder than ever to look at your ugly face. So, I'll cover it up."
She got a leather hood and pulled it on George's head. The black leather was skin-tight. Monica zipped it shut.
The hood was molded along the contours of his face. There was a triangular hole at the nosepiece. George's nostrils jutted out of it, permitting him to breathe.
Monica zippered the mouth shut, and closed down the eyepieces. George hung in chains, a naked pink fat man with a black leather hood.
That would hold him for a while.
Monica went into her bedroom. She picked up the phone, and dialed a number.
The phone was answered. A woman said, "Hello?"
It was Sylvia, George's unfaithful wifeand, unknown to him, one of Monica's latest conquests.
The dominatrix said, "Sylvia, this is Mistress Monica."
"Oh! Mistress, I'm so glad that you called!"
"You'll be even gladder when you hear what I have to say."
Sylvia said huskily, "What we did the other night-what you did to me-it was wonderful!"
"Today will be even more wonderful. How soon can you get here?"
"You mean, with my boyfriend?"
"Of course."
"Not for another two hours," Sylvia said. "Lane still has to give some tennis lessons, and he won't be done till later."
"Two hours is good. It will give me some time to get ready," Monica said.
"We'll be there as soon as we can!"
"You won't want to miss this, I promise you," Monica said. She said goodbye, and broke off the connection.
She took off the jumpsuit, and put on a different outfit. She wore a black satin garter belt, nylons, black boots with high heels, and a pair of black lace panties.
She pulled on a dress of thin black leather that clung to her curves. It had shoulder straps, and a plunging V-neckline that reached to her navel.
Most of the back was cut away too, leaving her flesh bare from the shoulders to the small of her back. The hem of the leather dress reached to the middle of her thighs.
Her hair was still damp from the shower she had taken at Lisa's. She brushed it out, and touched up her makeup.
She went to the kitchen. Her heels clicked on the floor. She poured herself a glass of white wine, a California vintage.
The curtains covering the kitchen window were partially ajar, offering a view of the backyard.
A blur of movement caught her eye. Curious, she picked up her glass and went to the window.
She looked out. A teenaged boy was poking around in her backyard.
Monica recognized him. He was one of the neighbor's kids, and lived down the canyon. She had seen him from time to time, sitting in a lawn chair in the shade, his nose buried in a book.
He was very clean and young and cute. Monica could think of better, places for his nose to be buried than in the pages of some dusty old tome.
He was about seventeen. He had light brown hair, carelessly but charmingly cut, that brushed his shoulders. He was tall and slender and slim-hipped.
He wore faded jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt. He knelt on the ground, picking up stones and comparing them to pictures inside a pocket field guide he was holding. He looked serious and utterly absorbed.
Like Napoleon, Monica's motto was "toujours l'audace"-"always to dare". Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
The youth was very cute, and Monica had a fetish for teenaged boys-and girls, if the truth be known.
But teenaged boys were inexhau stable. And so moldable!
Monica opened the back door and stood outlined in the doorframe.
She said, "Hello."
The boy looked up. His eyes widened when he saw her, and what she was wearing. He swallowed nervously, and his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat.
He said, "Uh, hi."
"What are you doing?"
"I'm, uh, looking for rock samples for my collection."
"Oh, you're a scientist, hmmm?"
"Well--I'd like to be one," he said. "I hope that you don't mind my being in your yard."
"No," she said, "I don't mind at all."
"Because the way the canyon rises to a ridge up here, it makes for some really interesting specimens. You can find some rare specimens here that you can't find down below."
Monica said to herself, if you really want to see some rare specimens, you should see some of my slaves. But she didn't say it, she just thought it.
She said, "That looks like thirsty work. It's a hot day."
He shrugged. "It's not so bad."
"Why don't you come in? I'll give you something to drink, some soda."
"Uh, that's okay. Thanks. I don't want to put you to any bother."
"It's no bother," Monica said.
"Uh, I'm okay. But thanks anyway."
"What's the matter? Are you scared of me?"
"No, of course not!" he said.
"Come on in. Don't worry, I won't bite. Come on."
He reached a decision. "Well ... okay."
He trudged across the yard, and entered the kitchen. He did a double-take when he saw the sexy outfit she was wearing.
He was a polite youngster, so he tried not to stare. He looked all around the kitchen, at everything but her.
She said, "I'm Monica. Who are you?"
"Steven. I, uh, live down the street."
"I know," she said. "Sit down, Steven." He pulled out a chair, and sat down at the kitchen table. He perched nervously on the edge of his seat.
Monica said, "What would you like? Soda? Wine? Tea?"
He wanted some soda. She poured him some in a paper cup. He quickly gulped it down, and stood up.
"Well, I guess I better be going," he said. "Thanks a lot."
Monica moved so that she stood between him and the door.
She smiled. "What's your hurry? Don't you think I'm pretty?"
"You're beautiful," he said, and blushed.
"I think you're pretty cute yourself. So why don't you stay a while, and get acquainted? It isn't very neighborly to run off like that."
She moved toward him He stepped back until he bumped into the edge of the table.
In her high-heeled boots, she stood a few inches taller than him. She pressed against him, her breasts pushing against his flat chest.
She embraced him and pressed her lips against his. After he overcame the initial surprise, he kissed her back.
Taking his hand, Monica led the boy to her bedroom. Steven looked like he was in a waking dream of pleasure.
Monica said, "Take off your clothes, honey."
Dumbfounded, Steven just stared at her, not moving.
She cooed, "Maybe you'd like me to undress you? Sure, that's it. Raise your hands so I can get your shirt off, baby."
She unpeeled the shirt off his lean torso. She ran her hands over his smooth, hairless chest. Toying with his pale pink nipples, she pinched them erect.
Clumsily he tried to embrace her. She brushed aside his arms, and laughed softly. His face reddened.
Monica said, "You just relax, and let me set the pace. It will be better for both of us." She patted his bottom. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. I know my way around a bedroom, believe me."
She took down his pants. She slipped her arm around his slender waist. With her free hand, she caressed his soft inner thighs.
He said, "Are-aren't you going to get undressed, too?"
"Soon enough, baby. Don't be impatient. We've got lots of time."
His cock was stiff and hard. He was embarrassed, and covered his groin with his hands.
Monica teased, "Why are you hiding yourself? You needn't be ashamed of your body. You're a very beautiful boy."
Gently but firmly she pushed him down on the bed. He stared up at her. She licked her lips, moistening them. She lowered her head into his groin.
She held his cock upright, and wrapped her lips around it. She took the head into her mouth, and flicked her tongue over it.
Steven gasped. The blue veins circling his cock pulsed against her lips.
She rarely performed oral sex on males, but this was a special case, and called for a certain amount of finesse.
Monica was determined that she wasn't going to let this lovely young boy out of her house until he was her willing, loving little slave.
Steven writhed, his long limbs twisting and thrashing. Monica's head moved up and down as she slurped and sucked his member.
Steven was very excited. He was young and inexperienced, and wouldn't be able to hold back for long.
She applied a gentle suction to the head of his member. Simultaneously, she whipped her tongue over the sensitive node of flesh on the underside of the shaft.
Steven came. He sat up straight, practically jack-knifed, eyes wide and staring, mouth open and gasping.
He cried out as he shot. Monica took the cock deep in her throat, and gulped down the gushing fluid.
She swallowed until his cock stopped spurting. Steven fell back on the mattress, breathing hard and moaning.
He sighed, "Oh, Monica!"
She reached behind her dress. "Look at me, Steven."
She unzipped the dress, and took it off. Her breasts bobbed free, the nipples hard.
Steven's cock was hard, too. That was another thing that Monica loved about teenaged boys. They came quickly, but they could easily have three, four, and sometimes even five orgasms a day.
She climbed on the bed on top of him. Her dangling breasts brushed his face. She fed her nipple into his mouth, and he sucked greedily.
On the movie screen of her mind, Monica could see what would happen next. She would make love to this boy. She was certain that he was lacking in experience, possibly a virgin.
Even the most skilled adult males couldn't resist her dominant charms. It would be child's play for her to make this boy her slave.
She would drive him wild with desire, and turn him inside out. And then, when he was weak and trembling from her lovemaking, she would slip a pair of manacles on his wrists before he knew what was happening.
Once he was chained to the bed, she would drive him crazy with erotic teasing and sexual frustration. She would hold out the promise of relief, but only on her terms.
And another slave would be brought into her world.