Lady Noir

I had endured a lot since marrying Gordon, but rarely had he tortured my body with such mercilessness. And even then I always knew he had my best interests at heart. I had no such trust in this imperious woman who'd just strolled into our home and taken to abusing me. What had Gordon been thinking when he'd employed her "services"?

I glanced over at his corner. He had the look of a man who'd been utterly defeated. He was watching the red stripe on my foot, wincing as each hit landed and left a bigger mark. At least I'm not the only person who's not enjoying this, I thought in an effort to console myself. It made me feel better that my husband didn't approve of how this Lady Noir was treating me, even if he had been the one who'd invited her. Not that his concern meant anything when he was trapped in an equally powerless position himself, though.

The alluring torturess switched her attention to my other foot, blocking all visual contact with my empathic husband. A depressing gloom set over my thoughts.

"I will stop once you've counted ten more strikes for me," she told me with the air of a woman who believed she was offering an opulent gift. At first I balked at the idea - I could hardly say 'please', let alone count to ten. But I was desperate for the caning to stop, so I jumped right into it.

CRACK. "Uhhn." CRACK. "Oooe." CRACK. "Eeeee." CRACK. "Hhorre."

"Excuse me? I think you'd better start again for that insolence," she announced, never missing a beat with her torturous cane. I glared at her angrily. Of course I hadn't meant to call her a whore - but how could I play her stupid counting game with this humiliating gag stretching my mouth wide open?

Nonetheless, the longer I deliberated, the more uncounted strokes she laid on me. And I winced in the knowledge that every hit added another day to the time it would take for my abused body to heal. I started counting again and this time made it all the way to nine before she rejected my clumsy pronunciation. I moaned in frustration. I'd been so close!

"Oh, my cute little pet, don't tell me a few taps on your feet made you forget how to count!" She laid the cane aside at last, my feet both still throbbing from her treatment. Then she slid her hand into one of the many belts around her legs and pulled out a small pocket knife, her latex gloves squeaking against the rubber heels. I froze, paralysed by fear of what this woman could want with a knife. She touched the knife to my inner thighs, the cold point of the blade threatening to puncture the softer skin.

I realised she was looking at me with a smile, and my face reddened embarrassingly. She'd never intended to cut me - she was just teasing me for a reaction. I relaxed slightly just as she slid the blade up into my skirt.

"I'm afraid this pretty skirt has to go, dear. I can't have you hiding your treasures from me that easily, can I?" With two deft flicks of her wrist the miniskirt fell off, revealing the loose chrome belt that had formerly guarded those treasures. Gordon... I thought despairingly, wishing he had left it locked.

Lady Noir smiled at the ineffective deterrent. "I'm truly flattered that you decided to grant me access," she purred, pulling away the useless belt with her index finger. Any vestiges of control I had left melted away as she laid her hand over my engorged mound. The glossy ebony skin of her latex gloves were all that remained between my precious flower and this salacious lesbian. My muscles clenched tightly in silent protest to her advances. It was maddening how helpless I was - I couldn't even assert my own sexuality.

"My my, we are excited, aren't we..." she murmured smoothly, tracing my slit with a rubber finger. No, no, no, I thought, my eyes stinging with impending tears as I stared wide-eyed at my unwanted mistress. How could I tell her that my arousal was from Gordon's fingers, and not her presence? Leaning closer, she whispered, "I'll be sure to go gentle with you for your first time." She licked the drool off my chin, slipping her tongue inside my mouth to gather the saliva collected there too. I moaned angrily in protest - she knew I wasn't a lesbian, and she was still going to violate me!

Her face hardened as my flash of defiance faded away. She stood back and tucked away her knife, picking the dreaded cane back up off the floor.

"Ooooe! Eeeeashe!" I cried out desperately, but she was already set on punishing me for my perceived insolence.

"How thoughtful, you've even waxed for me," she said with a wicked smile. "Smooth skin is so much more receptive to punishment, don't you think?"

Her words struck fear into my heart. Normally I adored having a sexy smooth love mound, but for once I was wishing I had a bit of hair to cushion her strikes. I hadn't actually waxed, though - in reality, Gordon had paid for me to have full laser hair removal treatment. The entire process had taken almost a year, but now I was eternally smooth from the neck down - with the exception of those invisibly fine hairs that sensed light touches around the body's most private areas. Light touches like the ones she was currently exerting, stroking my smooth mound with a slick finger as if to emphasise its receptivity. It was certainly working.

My glabrous body normally made me feel like an irresistible sex goddess - but I'd never actually anticipated a lesbian treating me like one. Without so much as a strip of pubic hair protecting me from this sadistic woman, I was terrified at the thought of what my vulnerable pussy would look like in a few minutes.

"Okay, love," she said with a hard edge to her mellow voice. "Since you couldn't count to ten before, you can have ten floggings instead."

She slid back the rubber casing on her cane to reveal a bundle of rubber strands that fell limp over my crotch, tickling me. She pulled back the cane - or flogger, as it seemed to be now - and brought the tails down on my sensitive pussy. A loud CRACK leapt off my skin as the soft rubber moulded to my curves before delivering the brunt of the blow. I gasped - I thought the softer material would make this weapon easier to bear, but it only seemed to make the pain affect a larger area.

My poor sensitive pussy, still engorged from Gordon's earlier fingering, amplified the flogger's impact and stung painfully. I nearly squeaked again as I fought against the chair's hold in vain. The flogger landed again. And again. Each whipping brought blood rushing into the affected area, making it even more sensitive to the next hit. I felt betrayed - as if the bindings and gag holding me subject to this Lady's whim weren't enough, my own body was forcing me to bear every excruciating sensation in full.

I gazed into the dominatrix's dark blue eyes, trying to fathom what sort of woman could derive pleasure from inflicting such pain on another. But to my surprise I saw no satisfaction in her calm demeanour. Neither remorse, nor glee. Just a cold determination as she laid waste to my body with her dual-function torture implement.

I closed my eyes and accepted the punishment as stoically as I could manage, flinching only slightly each time the flogger landed on my raw slit. Then suddenly she stopped. I opened my eyes hesitantly and saw her lay the hellish rod aside.

"Now you should be amply familiar with the pain that awaits you if you resist me," she stated calmly. "Shall we have some more fun now, my pretty plaything?"

I nodded vigorously. Actually, my head barely moved against the headrest, but she seemed to get the message.

"Fabulous! Let's see what your devoted husband has in stock, shall we?" A beaming smile lit her face as she strolled out of the room and left me there, feet and groin still stinging sharply. Gordon caught my gaze, his eyes darting to the door and back. I had no idea what he was trying to tell me, but I knew that Lady Noir's investigation of the storeroom could only lead to trouble. To her, the room was effectively an armoury stocked to the roof with the most inhumane weapons and equipment imaginable. I shuddered to think what she could do with such resources.

Then she was back, sporting the most bizarre strap-on I'd ever seen. My face paled as I realised what it was: a two-headed dildo. With a hopeless resignation I accepted my fate - I knew nothing was going to stop those monstrous shafts from penetrating my precious holes.

Gordon had seen it too, and he was glaring at Lady Noir with a look of outright indignation. She turned to him with that vexing smile of hers.

"Oh, don't tell me you took that silly form seriously. You should know that when a site like ours asks a question like 'what do you hate most', we're really asking what your deepest, darkest fetishes are," she enlightened him, sporting a rather sinister grin. I looked from Lady Noir to Gordon in confusion. What form? What fetishes? I had a sinking feeling I was about to find out.

She turned back to me and smothered lubricant over the bottom dildo as she drew near. My first instinct was to pull away, but I remembered what had happened the last two times I'd resisted her advances. Even though I was strapped to this infernal chair with my arms and legs outstretched over my head, her sharp eyes would still notice me straining to move away from her. I relaxed my muscles, determined not to give her another excuse to torture me further.

She stuck a curved latex finger inside the lips of my trembling pussy and stroked my G-spot with expert precision. I moaned loudly through the ring in my mouth, my body responding to the stimulation despite the panic I felt at being so intimate with another female.

"Ah, there's my pet's juicy love nectar," she purred, caressing the parted lips of my slit with her other hand. She slid her glossy hand around in my traitorous juices, rubbing them liberally over my whole crotch, around and between both openings, until I felt like a complete slut at having my holes so easily penetrable. She pulled her hand back, her fingers now glistening with my love juices. Without warning she rammed her fingers into my gaping mouth, obstructing my throat. I fought to control my gag reflex as her wet fingers slipped further down my tongue.

The musty taste of sweat and rubber was mixed with my own tangy-sweet fluids to create an intoxicating cocktail that dominated my senses. Her unrelenting fingers wrapped firmly around my tongue, ensuring there was no escape from the taste of my own arousal. With my oxygen supply momentarily cut off, I began to feel lightheaded as the odour engulfed my tastebuds and olfactory senses.

"Now tell me you're not enjoying this," she whispered demurely, softly caressing my lips with her thumb as she continued to smear my arousal around inside my mouth. In my woozy state, there was no denying the spark of truth in her words. My eyelids drooped in involuntary acknowledgement as I hung my head in shame. All prior conceptions regarding my sexual preferences dissolved into nothing as my body overruled those predilections. Have I been fooling myself my entire life? Are such emotional convictions ever valid, or are all so-called 'sexual orientations' simply imaginary constructs? I continued to cling to my preconceived beliefs stubbornly, refusing to let my body control my mind despite the humiliating discomfort it continued to bring me.

My tormentor smiled smugly and slid her glistening ebony fingers from my mouth, now slick with fresh saliva. She massaged the additional fluids into my moist pussy for good measure, then plunged the two dildos into my unprotected holes.

Never had I felt so violated. Twin shafts slipped into both orifices simultaneously, producing loud suction noises as air struggled to escape past the wide intruders. It was humiliatingly obvious to me now that I couldn't have been in a more perfect position for such an utter violation. My shamefully moist pussy and firm ass may well have been presented on a gilded platter, exposed and angled such as they were. There was simply no denying it: my whole body was positioned with the sole purpose of subjecting my most intimate holes to a thorough fucking. I wanted to cry, but there were already too many emotions crashing through my head.

My anal sphincter was stretched wider than ever before, but strangely it barely felt painful at all, just highly uncomfortable. Somehow the position I was in - with my raised and spread legs so close to my chest - stretched my puckered anus and eliminated the resistance my sphincter muscle normally offered. In a weird and inexplicable way, it felt almost natural for my anus to stretch so widely in this position. I simply felt exploited beyond words.

The artificial lubricant that formed the dildo's glossy film became smeared all around the inside of my anal cavity. The thought of those slimy chemicals being forced into such a private part of my body made me shudder. If lubricant was really necessary, it should only be from my own body, not some unnatural chemicals. But who was I kidding - no part of my body was private anymore. I had less control over my body than a bumbling adolescent. My pliable figure, with all its hidden crevices and secrets, effectively belonged to this licentious dominatrix now - I certainly had no say in anything. Claiming ownership over something I have no control is just plain folly.

With Gordon I was often tied up helplessly, but it was almost always consensually. He respected me and my boundaries, even if he was a bit cheeky about pushing those boundaries sometimes. But I still felt I had some degree of control when it was him playing with my body. With this dominatrix, this Lady Noir... I had no such illusions. She didn't care about me - she was just doing what she was trained to do. But even worse than that - her actions were solely to fulfil her own perverse desires.

The dildo in my pussy disgusted me. I could feel that it was covered in bulging veins and tipped with a bulbous phallus as a man's shaft should be - but there was no disguising the artificial material it was made from. I was being penetrated by a perverted toy wielded by a lesbian domme. I wasn't homophobic, but I had no desire to corrupt my own sexuality either. I craved the satisfying fullness of a real shaft, not this unnatural imposter - there's a good reason women don't have the appropriate equipment for this, after all.

But my resplendent tormentor didn't care about that. Lady Noir held her exquisite figure proudly over me as she gracefully revolved her hips before my openly-exposed groin, those infuriating plastic shafts gliding in and out of my orifices at a frustratingly gentle pace.

Held immobile with my holes mercilessly penetrated, my mind was drawn away from old prejudices as it became more embroiled in the present moment. For the first time I gazed upon my Lady objectively, awed by her natural beauty. She really did have a body most girls would kill for. Flawlessly smooth skin, seductive features and captivating eyes, an alluring smile, long raven-black hair, sizeable breasts topping a slim build... She probably had men waiting on her every whim, yet here she was screwing an unconsenting married woman who until now hadn't cared for any of that beauty. Crazy.

My thoughts became increasingly sparse as a new idea began to dominate my mind: release. Somehow despite everything, a sexual pressure was building in my loins. It was now disturbingly difficult for me to focus on anything besides animalistic lust. My eyelids drooped closed. I sensed my consciousness begin to drift away... And then the stimulation stopped. She'd pulled out of me, leaving me hanging on the fringes of bliss.

The impending bliss ebbed painfully away, leaving only frustration in its wake. My body seemed to protest of its own accord, producing a loud moan that sounded more like a sound a cow would make than any sentient being.

Lady Noir responded by tracing a glistening latex finger lightly down the lips of my engorged love mound. My flushed labia trembled under her teasing caress. Then the finger found my clitoris, softly encircling it to produce just enough stimulation to bring me back to the edge. But again she pulled away, leaving me stewing in frustration. I knew then what she was doing, and I despised her for it.

There is a single instant in time when a girl is between the verge of a climax and its realisation - in that very moment, she is nothing but raw nerves. Any remnants of intelligent or even coherent thought have fled. Pleasure and pain are indistinguishable. All that remains is a network of nerve endings.

This sensory limbo was the place I now found myself held in. I was trapped in the most effective prison ever conceived; no thoughts, no emotions. Just sensation. A lot of sensation.

In my delirium, I felt my nipples cupped in warm moisture even as they stiffened and jutted out proudly. Something squeezed them tightly, trapping them in their hardened form. Suddenly one of my legs was loose, the straps no longer holding it to the leg rest. I tried to wriggle it free of the vertical strut, but my body was beyond listening to my commands. It had a new Mistress and was responding only to the tender caressing she dealt to my nether region.

My leg became ensnared in a tight grip and forced up beside my head where a cold metal band was secured tightly around my thigh just above the knee. My other leg soon followed suit on the opposite side of my head. They seemed to be connected behind my back somehow, as when they were released from the grip my calves flopped forwards but my thighs remained pinned to my shoulders.

I knew I was being manipulated like a lifeless puppet, but it wasn't me on the other end of the strings. It was as if these things were happening to another girl, and I was just a disembodied spectator to the proceedings. I wanted to scream at myself to move, to resist, but my body seemed oblivious to the will of its rightful owner. But I was still receptive to every slight sensation that tingled my tense form.

My arms were pulled down from above me and folded snugly against the outside of my legs. A second later, my calves lost their freedom of movement as they too were pulled down against my thighs.

All the while, the teasing stimulation of my clitoris continued. Just a light caress, repeated every few moments, enough to keep the tide of my arousal at the height of my climax without quite cresting. I was so close to escaping to that place of bliss, yet it was kept just beyond reach. It was the epitome of horniness - I craved my Lady's continual touch so greatly that I didn't even care to feel shame.

Then that touch left me. I screamed in my head as the build-up of sexual pressure in my loins ebbed painfully away, denying me that coveted release.

As my vision returned I glared at her with a confusing mixture of hate and longing. My mind was in turmoil, but my body knew exactly what it wanted. And only the seductive woman standing over me could provide it.

***

I smiled as I slowly pulled my finger away from the girl's erogenous zone. She was a natural submissive, this one - her body a slave to my every touch even as her mind rebelled. Provoking such inner conflict was the highlight of my profession, and it wasn't often I had the chance to indulge the repressed desires of unconsenting heterosexual women. And such a magnificent specimen she was too... A shame she insisted on denying the fairer sex the pleasure of exploring her treasures. Of course, I intended to remedy that. For the benefit of women everywhere, naturally.

Unwilling clients who'd been signed on by friends were actually much more common than Gordon seemed to think, however. It was usually easy to tell from the way the client's profile was written - much too proud and boastful to be authored by a true submissive. Such non-consensual encounters were even my preference, though it was still a rare occurrence that an involuntary submissive sold out her master and unwittingly left yours truly in complete control of the proceedings in the process. Submissives are loyal and timid, but rarely stupid. But apparently this girl wasn't even loyal; at least not to her husband. I would be flattered if I didn't believe that the girl had actually been fooled by my little show of compassion. Oh, I wasn't a completely heartless bitch, but nor was I foolish enough to pass up this excellent opportunity to have a bit of unbridled fun.