I saw her look up at me beneath her eyelashes as I padded across the floor. Fuck! I could barely fathom it. She was a dead ringer for the crackwhore!
"So, I've heard someone's been a very bad girl," I teased. Fuck! I could barely fathom it. This woman was a fucking carbon copy, the living embodiment, of Ella. That's why I had to have her despite the initial revulsion I felt when informed that she had contracted chlamydia. I surprised the fuck out of Elena by not immediately taking her out of contention. After all, who actually catches the clap nowadays unless they're very irresponsible?
No worries. I'm nothing if not a very very strict disciplinarian. I wouldn't allow her very much latitude to do stupid shit in the future. A one-night stand with a stranger no less? Definitely not safe or sane. I hope she at least came, otherwise she's going to be paying for her transgressions for nothing.
Sure, she may not have been my sub at the time, but I needed to correct her flighty behavior before it resulted in irretrievable harm. It was not such an almighty mental leap from the clap to catching an incurable STD. Or a crack habit. I needed her prostrate at my feet in repentance, reducing the chances of her indulging in such irresponsible behavior again.
I stalked around her, taking her in from all angles. Her posture could use some work. She didn't speak, which was a good thing as she was already ten punishments in the red. Examining her up close was a much different experience than the times I'd studied her in the past. To my eyes, she was perfect. Not that she because she was beautiful, but she closely adhered to my desired physical profile.
"Leila," I began, pronouncing it LAY-EE-LUH, drawing out the syllables. I knew from her file that her name was pronounced a different way, but I was curious to see how soon she would fuck up so I could punish her.
"Sir, this girl's name is pronounced LEE-LAH," she said, and then I had her dead to rights. First, she spoke without permission. Second, she disagreed with me. And third, she had the audacity to attempt to fucking correct me! If I'd decided to rename this bitch Daffy Duck, she'd have had to answer to it in quacks. Had no-one ever explained to her that referring to herself in third person with her 'this girl' nonsense made her seem like a little girl? All she was missing was some ruffled panties and one of those giant rainbow-swirl lollipops to complete the picture.
I wasn't one of those Daddy-Doms who spoiled their subs. Too many of them come that way, far too bratty to realize I didn't have and wouldn't make time for their tantrums. Hardcore, high-intensity sessions were my hallmark. And Lay-ee-lah was just racking up the transgressions right and left, fresh out the gate. I wanted to feel disappointed, but instead I was excited to have an opportunity to indeed lay stripe to her 'lily-white ass' as Elena derided.
Her quick intake of air let me know she'd realized she'd fucked up. She couldn't even manage to get to the playroom so I could punish her properly. No matter. It's not like I ever intended to spare the rod of correction, and I was a very in the moment type of guy.
Leila possesses exhibitionist tendencies. I figured that out from watching the live video feed in Elena's office. She enjoys being seen. If Elena had a cock, she would've been jacking off like I was when Leila let her legs fall open so wide and started pumping her pussy with three fingers while slipping a finger up her ass. She loves the camera, I'll say that much for her, even if the camera doesn't love her back as much. She'd more than earned her 'A+' in enthusiasm.
Being told that she wouldn't be able to satisfy herself until I returned acted as a powerful motivator. Especially after a marathon shopping spree without underwear and with beads filling her pussy as she gingerly moved about Seattle. She should be grateful I relented and didn't have Elena insert the butt plug, too. I was leaning heavily toward maximum humiliation and sensory overload, but decided instead to save it for another day, which pissed Elena the fuck off.
We'd both noticed her slight hesitation when she'd been directed to assume the position. That's when I decided to make sure the conditioner specified wouldn't be on the shelf of the store Elena sent her to. It was nothing at all to get one of my assistants to buy every bottle of that hair serum Elena selected before Leila could get there. Or egg on Elena to screw Leila over for her insolence. She was so pissed that Leila had almost fucked up her matchmaking fee that she could've shit bricks and built a hut.
She'd been bragging on this super sub for years that had hardly any hard limits and had never safeworded. Curious as I'd been regarding this supposed paragon of submission, the timing had never worked out. Either I had a sub, she had a Dom or both of us were in other contracts. It wasn't as if I didn't have time, and the other subs never stayed around once they figured out their true place in my life. Eventually, I'd get her under my whip if Elena had anything to do with it.
Personally, I think Elena wanted to fuck her, but I think Leila leaned strongly to the strictly dickly end of the spectrum which put a kibosh on that fantasy. When Leila started pumping her ass with her finger, I know Elena probably wanted to strap on and plunder her it herself. If it wasn't for the STD, I might've witnessed some girl-on-girl action regardless. Leila was desperate enough for my forgiveness that she might've succumbed if pressed.
It wouldn't have been the first time Elena and I had fucked, or better yet dominated, the same person. Never at the same time however, as I don't share subs, but we shared more than a few mutual acquaintances. We would laugh about it over lunch once or thrice. While Elena was still a very attractive woman, that ship had sailed long ago. I was forever done with being a sub, but she'd always be a Domme and our temperaments were simply not compatible. Besides, though she was beautiful for her type, tall, blond, very Nordic, I'd always admired petite brunettes.
Now, Leila stood before me, silent and still, in severe need of discipline, and I was just the man to administer it. Though she was due almost a dozen punishments, I'd still intended to give her the grand tour of the place, focusing on all of the common areas, now I'd have to be doubly vigilant to point out the places she was not welcome. This Leila, despite her stellar reputation, had all the earmarks of a recalcitrant child, frequently overstepping her boundaries. How Elena ever thought she'd be perfect for me…
"Come," I commanded, not even bothering to look at her as I made my way upstairs to my playroom. I had the key in my pocket. I could hear the click of her sky-high heels as she trailed behind me, thankfully not too close. I opened the door and motioned her in to precede me.
I knew what she would see. Paint, a bold splash of deep blood-red across every wall. Heavy, dark wooden furniture. Oxblood leather upholstery with its brass nail head trim. The room reeked with Old-World charm. The St. Andrews cross in the corner, anchored all of the pieces, drawing the eye even beyond the huge four poster bed central to the play area. The additional ottomans, Chesterfield, whipping bench and a Liberator chaise brought it all together, creating a room that seemed a hybrid between a bedroom and sitting area.
To my left, one wall boasted floor-to-ceiling glass-front cabinets, also in wood, backlit, with drawers in some, holding my toys for play, while to my left, my floggers, cats, belts, crops and canes hung on a rack. Speaking of racks, above our heads, a grid for suspension lay in wait for the unwary. I certainly hope she got a good look at this room because she's only view she was going to have would be from the whipping bench for a very long while…
"Strip for me. I know you know how," I commanded. I saw on the video how she attempted to give us both a few 'fuck you' shimmies in protest. Every shake of her narrow ass is going to result in a stripe. Neither of us were pleased at her show of disrespect because we both knew she was acting out, trying to top from the bottom. Elena came up with some rather cruel and unusual ideas for punishments, but Leila was my sub and I'd be handling all of her correction from here on out.
She carefully removed each garment, allowing them to fall to the floor. Her 'tease' was a little more subtle since she realized I was here in person to rain hell on her. It's easy to be a tease from half a world away, but up close and personal, she lost the bulk of her bravado. That's the thing about brats. They like attention, but aren't quite sure what to do when they've gotten it.
"So, can you name the one item in the case we didn't use?" I inquired, seeing if she would dare to open her mouth again. Instead of speaking, she gave a brief nod. Good. She wasn't completely useless. I'd wondered if perhaps the reason she'd never safeworded was because she was a slave masquerading as a sub. Those are the worst because slaves are high-maintenance. You have to control, protect and be concerned for them at all times. I needed a sub for release, not an additional demanding career.
"Name it," I commanded.
"The butt plug, Sir," she answered in a low voice.
Too late for a show of meekness now, missy. I knew that plug was huge, but according to Elena, she'd graduated to that size just recently. Now that's why I preferred experienced subs. They could never quite pull off the 'how dare you' tone after they'd taken an anal plug the size of a huge fist or a small baby up their asses. I mean honestly, it's the final fucking frontier. Nothing is left after that except a test of their limits, endurance and willpower.
Now, it's about time I made it impossible for Ms. Williams to sit down. I directed her to the whipping bench, where wouldn't you know it, the case from Elena's office sat in bold relief. Ta-da! Now I would be able to administer the punishment as intended.
"Open the case," I demanded silkily, sidling up behind her. I leaned just so, to let my breath caress her skin causing her hair at the nape of her neck to rise and goosebumps to break out. "Now," I continued, "take out each item from smallest to largest, give its name and explain its purpose."
This was a test. If she was flippant or failed to understand the purpose of this exercise, she'd need to leave even if she never called out any color of the rainbow. I had no patience for fools.
"Clover clamps with bells," she began, hesitantly, "Used to keep nipples pinched once erect."
I held out my hand to receive them. "What would I use them for?" I demanded harshly.
"To make sure you had my undivided attention. Every time the bell moves, there's a sound and the teeth bite into me," she respond. Better.
"Next?"
"Two die. Like the Wheel of Destiny, it lets Fate decide my reward or punishment," she answered more confidently, handing them over. "A chastity belt. To remind me that my pleasure or relief is not my own and not to fuck around indiscriminately."
A little snarky, but accurate. Accepted.
"Ben Wa balls, to excite me the more I move around, and finally, a butt plug, to fill up my anus and stimulate me?" she replied in question. Well, when you're in doubt, ask.
"Oh, I planned to stimulate you all right. I intended to keep you stimulated all over Seattle," I admitted. What were you thinking, letting some college boy get his rocks off without protection? That one fuck could've killed you! Do you have a death wish? I'd really like to know because I'm not going to waste my time on the suicidal."
I had to make it plain. I didn't give a shit who she fucked. I just cared how she fucked them since her behavior could impact me. "Well, thankfully, you'll find that I am monogamous in all my relationships. I've never had nor passed on a sexually transmitted disease. Not even a yeast infection. Now, UTIs are a fact of life if I regularly fuck you, so I'd advise you to invest in the best cranberry juice you can afford. Other than that, I won't injure you. Don't get me wrong. I'm going to hurt you, I just won't be sending you to the hospital."
She nodded. My spiel has changed in the course of my relationships, as I've learned more. "I demand monogamy in return. If you feel you cannot remain monogamous, you can get the fuck out. For your complete understanding, that means no person, male or female should touch or be touched by you in a sexual manner. Unfortunately, you're about as clean as you can get, but I don't want to share any fluid transfer with anyone else even by proxy," I stated. It's sad that these things must be explained, yet I accept it as the cost of keeping my health and my dick.
"I've never cheated on a Dom!" she whispered. Methinks she protest too much… Not that she doesn't cheat, she just doesn't cheat on her Doms, waiting until a contract ends then acts like a sailor on a weekend furlough… Nothing worse than a poor case of situational ethics. Another bad habit to break.
Roughly pushing her against the bench, I cuffed both of her hands to the hooks, so she couldn't get away or buck off. Then I used a spreader bar to keep her legs open, cuffing both ankles to the bench. I lubed both the Ben Wa balls and the butt plug. Rubbing her clit and labia with the balls to get her juices flowing, I carefully inserted them. Once that was accomplished, I took a crop and swatted her ass a couple times, causing her to jolt forward as the balls began to move around.
Though she was bent over at a steep angle, I still had to take care with the plug since it was fucking huge. I liberally squirted cool lube over her rosebud between and her cheeks. Since it was cooler than the ambient temperature of the room, Leila jerked forward, disturbing the balls inside her. I gradually worked the plug into her ass until it was firmly seated.
I used a cloth to wipe away the excess lube before strapping her into her chastity belt and tightening it. There. Perfect. I walked around the bench, surveying the scene with satisfaction. The only thing that would've made it better was a ball-gag, but I needed her vocal.
She couldn't see me as I walked to the rack holding my favorite tool, the cat. It was the one piece of equipment for which I risked my privacy in order to learn. I needed far greater expertise than Elena possessed. For my purposes, my aim, my force and my stroke had to be perfect. I wanted to be able to tattoo my name on a sub's ass in stars and stripes if I so desired.
Strolling to the bench with whip in hand, I felt the pressures of the week begin to fade away. There were no appointments, no interviews, no reports. It was just me, firmly in the Now.
I used light, then progressively heavier slaps on her ass to prepare it for the cat in order to not break the skin. She moaned as my strokes sent the balls scrambling for purchase. "Leila," I said authoritatively, "you may be as vocal as you like. Count."
With that, I backed up and let her fly with a whistle and a stinging crack. Leila yelped and her body jerked, but she couldn't get away from the bench she was tethered to. She counted one, then thanked me.
"What are your safewords?" I demanded.
"Red, yellow… and green, Sir," she panted.
"What color are you now?" I inquired as I cued up for another stroke.
"Green, Sir," she replied with a hiss as I brought down the whip again, striking her other cheek. Then, I only asked her color after every two strokes. While she moaned in agony and continued the count, thanking me after each stroke. She remained green as Kermit though I know it must've hurt like a bitch.
When we reached ten, I put the cat away, an checked on Leila to make sure she was alright. Cum was dribbling down her legs forming a huge puddle. Instead of the punishment I had sought to enact upon her, I had inadvertently overwhelmed her with pleasure.
Leila was a masochist. Elena was right. We were highly compatible. But what that meant for the future was no-one's guess.