Did You Ever Get Stung? Ch. 03

Miss didn't acknowledge what she had done, but neither did she tell her to do it again. She tipped the carrier bag out onto the sofa, put the handcuffs to one side and told Jenna to feel her own tits up while she waited. The coarseness of her language was liberating, it told Jenna not to caress her breasts but to grab nipples between finger and thumb to tug and jiggle. That incredible rush of rolling in the mud again. Miss didn't strew the contents of her own satchel over the room, she sorted calmly through it and only took out what she wanted. The first sight of what she chose did strange and wonderful things to Jenna's insides. She had to fight to keep her legs open the way she knew was expected of her, her knees wanted to snap shut and hide the turmoil that she felt sure must be visible in her cunt. Miss' mouth smiled beneath her sunglasses.

The O-ring, Jenna was quite certain, was nowhere near as thick around as Frankie's strap-on and that had - just - managed to fit. If she could take that without dislocating her jaw, she could take a gag. As it advanced towards her in Miss' hands, she wasn't so sure. It looked absurdly, brutally, too much, and the sound of Miss' voice wasn't doing anything to reassure her.

"We were saying, your mouth exists to please Miss. When we've finished using you for the night, you will spend a nice long time thanking Miss with the slowest, best and most intense orgasm your tongue is capable of. Before that there's going to be all the thrills of your poor little voice begging not to be hurt any more, all sorts of physical treats too. But first of all, we're going to use it to demonstrate subordination. Remember, Miss is not interested in dignity or beauty."

She opened her mouth and let Miss put the ring in place behind her teeth. The steel core was covered in silicone, soft and squishy, almost tasteless. Miss fastened the harness round her head, trapping her hair uncomfortably at the back, dehumanising her with its riding school connotations. Her mouth seemed to be flooding with saliva before the buckle was even secured. She had offered no resistance from the beginning, but this involuntary gaping vulnerability turned her into a rag doll for Miss to arrange. She let her hands be put up to the back of her neck and felt herself being shackled with her own steel cuffs. Miss fetched a long leather strap from her satchel, which she used to connect the handcuff to the back of the chair. Jenna's wrists were pulled down, elbows against the side of her face and shoulders taking just enough strain for the first stirrings of discomfort.

Miss went back to her satchel, put two candles on the mantelpiece and lit them, laid her phone alongside Jenna's speaker dock, turned off the lights. She worked slowly and methodically, talking at Jenna in the same calm flat, dismissive voice.

"To answer your earlier question, wax doesn't have to be immediately painful. It depends on skill: how hot, how long, how fast ... so many variables. It can be quite a gentle warming sensation to drip on, gets slowly hotter as you leave it in place, and then after you peel it off there's this tingling sensitivity left behind ready for the next time. Overall it's quite a subtle form of nipple play, but skill and patience can create intensity. Unless those clamps of yours are just for show, I imagine you've got proper pain slut tits, haven't you? Should be an interesting challenge. Shall we begin?"

Miss slipped her coat from her shoulders. Jenna almost choked on the gag. For all her reading she would never have imagined Liz - and for all the play-acting Liz was surely in there somewhere - in that barely decent leather mini and flat stud-fastened waistcoat. Neither had she imagined a body quite like that under her loose and conservative wardrobe. Miss stalked high-heeled to her phone, and Jenna marvelled at her bum undulating under the tight black surface. The music started with the thrum of a single bass string, working up through the chair legs and resonating in her groin, languid tinkly strumming leading into a hoarse dissipated female voice that promised sex at its most darkly decadent.

Miss floated back towards her on swaying hypnotic hips in the candlelight, mouth miming to words that Jenna only slowly recognised as Smells like teen spirit. Her hand went over Jenna's eyes and her voice husked 'dirty words' softly in Jenna's ear, as the other voice swept Jenna up in the sudden darkness she felt teeth slowly bite down on her earlobe. She gasped through the gag, but the hand gripped her eyes tighter and the teeth bit harder until she learned to take her pain in silence. Two voices in her head, both cruel, one sighing 'yeah ... oh yeah ...' into her smarting ear and the other rambling through some sort of gloriously stoned poetic madness that reminded her of that camp boy at university who used to recite Ginsberg when he got pissed. Miss seemed to drift away behind her, one hand still over her eyes and the other taking hold of her throat with just enough force to make her pant.

She would never have believed as simple a thing as a gag could have this much effect on how she felt inside and about herself. Sucking on Frankie's cock didn't begin to compare to feeling herself dribbling helplessly over her jammed open chin. It was utterly degrading, all the more so for being shut away behind the blindfold of Miss' hand listening to both those voices babbling through scratchy strings about entertaining their libido. She was falling into the sound, into the predatory sensuality of it. By the time the music ended it had already seduced and debauched her, leaving her entirely available to whatever her Mistress chose to do.

Miss only took her hand from Jenna's eyes to take hold of her hair and tug her head back until she was staring at the ceiling. She squatted down, pulled Jenna's sodden gusset forcefully to the side and gave her a possessive but insultingly casual finger-fucking that made her teeth dig into the silicone with something between pretended shame and the real thing.

"Miss needs to remember exactly what a subordinate sluttish cunt tastes like when its owner is being very kind to it ..."

Miss' left hand pushed her head forward, the fingers of Miss' right pushed their thick coating of cum over her tongue and made her cough. Miss pulled her head to the side and kissed her, fierce and penetrating, no gentleness in it at all.

"... Mmmmm ... not bad. I'm going to need to hurt you a lot more before we can even think about you earning my tongue in your tight little hole, but that is such a tempting goal. No more 'Miss' now, time to be honest. I want to make you beg and whimper ..."

She stood up, unzipped the miniskirt and tugged it off, presenting Jenna with her tidily trimmed pubic hair and untidily apparent lustful intentions. How heady it was to have her hungry cunt shoved in Jenna's face to bathe her in the scent of how much she enjoyed holding this sort of power. She straddled the chair and settled herself into Jenna's lap.

"... I am going to take my first orgasm from you. Take it, whilst I'm thinking about how I'm going to hurt. All the other times I come before I've finished with you: you're going to give me those, after we both know how the hurting feels."

She wrapped her arms around Jenna's head and fucked Jenna's mouth with her tongue as she rubbed herself against Jenna's belly.

*

She woke up, tangled in her sweaty sheets with her nipples still weirdly warm and tender from the wax and Liz' smell all over her. She felt so good - so relaxed and at peace - that it took her a moment to realise she was alone. It took another to realise what the sound was.

She tapped the shower room door, trying to make herself heard over the desolate sobbing without banging on it.

"Liz. Liz, honey, can I come in please?"

No answer, just more sobbing. The sort of sobbing, she knew too well from her own experience, that left your stomach sick and shoulders sore, that dragged misery up from somewhere down around your womb. She pushed the door slowly open anyway.

"Liz. Liz?"

Liz was sitting on the toilet, dressed in sensible everyday clothes that must have been folded into the bottom of her satchel, face buried in her hands and curtained off by her loose hair. Jenna put a hand on her shoulder. The crying stopped, Liz froze entirely.

"Please don't ..."

She lifted her head up and sighed, coughed to clear a space for her hoarse whispering croak.

"... Not your fault, Jen. Not angry at you, but please don't ever touch me again. Sorry, need to go now."

"Liz, please ..."

Vacant, disbelieving whisper, as if Liz had witnessed some accident too horrific to comprehend. She stood up.

"Need to go. Sorry, not your fault."

Jenna was so shocked that she let Liz stumble past her. It was only then that the realisation broke. What the fuck had she just done? How many times had Liz explained to her how she felt, how often had she stopped herself from saying something kindly meant that could only have hurt? She had seduced her best and grieving friend; with no more excuse than one glass of wine she'd played on the vulnerability of someone she knew was struggling even more than she was. Liz had said she couldn't have sex with someone in her own home, so Jenna had invited her back here. She had encouraged Liz to tie her up with gear that must have been bought to use with Martine. For the last six hours she had managed to forget every tiny trace of decency, good friendship and plain common sense that she had ever possessed. And to top it off she had let Liz go without a word of apology. She grabbed her dressing gown and bolted for the door.

It was too late. She stood on the pavement in her bare feet and watched Liz' tail lights rounding the corner. It was two in the morning, she had just made the worst mistake in her life, and she honestly wanted to die.

"Reckon she'll ever forgive you?"

Lucy was leaning against a parked car and managing not to set the alarm off. If there was anything left that could make Jenna feel sicker at herself than she already did, it was the smug look on Lucy's face.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Isn't that blindingly obvious? Tell me, which do you prefer: being the one who gets abused, or the one doing the abusing?"

Jenna wanted to hit her so hard, to put every ounce of regret from the last ten days into a slap that spun her clear over the hedge. She didn't, she was pretty sure it would never be allowed to connect and she would only end up feeling more powerless and ridiculous. Her legs buckled under her; she sank to the pavement.

"Being abused."

"Bingo! Always keep the best for last."

"Why me?"

"Why you? You mean what have you done wrong? See, that's where Faust falls down for me, it's a morality tale: guy doesn't know his place - guy overreaches - guy gets his comeuppance. Seriously, where is the fun in that? Why you, sugar? Because it is so easy. You're like a slobbery golden retriever puppy: awww pwease wuv me. As for Miss Nobility in Suffering, she's further up her own arse than Frankie was in yours. You're so desperate to do the right thing, but so naive and vulnerable you just fuck it up at the slightest opportunity. I have to tell you, this has been a real blast. Be seeing you around."

Lucy banged her hand on the bonnet as she walked away, setting the alarm whooping at last so the whole street could be ripped out of their slumbers, and maybe a few would bother to look out of their windows to see Jenna crying in the gutter.

"Are you alright down there, darling? Can you hear me?"