The Brand Ch. 04

Gradually, Victria massaged her way from the backs of Melody's knees to her thighs, her mouth playing a larger role with each advance. Then, at the beautiful juncture between thighs and buttocks, Melody began to whimper, giggle and sigh with delight. It was at those places that Victria began to kiss a little longer and bite a little harder, sometimes causing Melody to lift her head and shudder. Presently, the mistress trailed rows and rows of kisses along her sub's back; the ends of her hair raising goose flesh in their wake.

Then it stopped. Victria had drawn away. Melody sighed, and then turned her head to face her domme. Victria was seated, crossed legged, at the far corner of the bed, still in her underwear, her arms folded over her chest. Pouting, Melody turned on her side, and then bent her right leg behind the other. Victria eyed their glorious junction. Seeing her interest, annoyed at her hesitation, Melody moved onto her back, and then spread her legs slightly more apart.

"It is yours Mistress." She whispered; reminding her domme, "Don't you want to take your first real taste of it?"

"I do." Answered Victria; meeting her slave's hopeful regard, "But what if I like it too much?"

"But what if you like it too much?" Melody laughed, "Is that a threat?"

"No. It's a; concern."

"Well Mistress; I don't believe I can be truly yours if you don't conquer me with your tongue."

"You should hold yours; bold wench. You will be truly conquered when you are collared."

"That, I understand Mistress. But, you cannot deny that taking me in your bed, granting me the freedom of your mouth is a necessary step in the process toward owning me completely."

Such a good student, thought Victria. Pleased, she narrowed her eyes at Melody as she watched her spread her legs further. Then she parted her luscious pink lips open with her slender fingers to reveal her rosy vault. For the sake of comfort, Victria finally removed her bra and flung it away. Melody stared soberly at her domme's high round breasts and their pert nipples. Then, on her hands and knees, Victria crossed the threshold of her slave's temple. Kneeling, she breathed the incense of her musk and bowed her head closer to the gleaming red chalice set upon her alter. In a slow, swooping motion, Victria breathed in and kissed her slave from inner thigh to thigh until she could no longer resist taking her first gentle draft.

Its taste was as divine as she'd imagined; sweet blood wine and citrus flesh. VICTRIA drank deeply, as if there was some narcotic property to Melody's vaginal exudate. The more she drank, the harder and taller Melody's mouthful became. It rose regally between Victria's lips and against her tongue, awake and free to dance delightedly in her mouth. And so it did, slipping side to side, twirling around Victria's tongue, sending shivers and quakes into even the darkest corners of Melody's mind and body. Victria could feel Melody's screams coming. She could feel their origin in her mouth as she flicked her slave's clitoris around and around her strong tongue until Melody's cries came as she arched her back and jabbed her sex against Victria's dripping wet face.

The next morning, Melody got up bright and early to streak across the door yard and fetch her mistress's Sunday paper, and then came in to crawl across the kitchen floor to lap up her morning milk from a bowl Victria set out for her breakfast. Not once displaying the least reluctance, Melody rested her ass on the backs of her legs and folded her arms beneath her chest so that she could dip her tongue in to take lapful after lapful of milk from the pet food bowl.

"That's enough, my pretty little pussy." Commanded Victria from her perch on the kitchen counter, "Look at me. Nice. Lick that milk mustache off. You're so cute. Now get up and put your bowl in the sink please."

So Melody did.

"Now take each of your pretty little kitty titties and clean them all up with your tongue."

That too, Melody did, grabbing up each breast, coaxing her nipples to rise higher with each mouthful, making each gleam wetly, fervently eyeing her mistress as her tongue slid round and round. Victria looked on; a moist patch of vaginal sweat collecting on the counter top beneath her. She had in deed conquered her wench the night before; lavishing her with her tongue until Melody could hardly beg for mercy. And the very least she could do was allow her slave to return the favor. But, Victria had no interest in receiving such gratification, so she ignored Melody's appeals. It struck her slave as odd, but she eventually chalked it up to just another part of Victria's methodology of control.

3

"Good morning Victria!" Simon said after knocking twice on the partially opened door to her office.

"Simon." Victria Answered flatly as she busily interfaced with her desktop.

Advancing deeper into her office, Simon cleared his throat and checked the knot of his Monday tie; black silk, an air brushed under water scene of killer whales across the tie's broadest point.

"So how'd your shooting go this weekend?"

Oh what the fuck Simon, she thought; leave me alone.

"Fine." She said, "I was making three inch patterns; head shots and center mass. She fires nice; really nice."

Put on the spot, Victria contrived her report from the memory of the second time she'd been at the range. She'd met up with her fire arms course instructor, a gentle but firm soft eyed old marine veteran by the name of Sargent Dennis Macavoy. He'd shown her a few 380s, 9 millimeters, 40s and some 45s. She'd paid him three hundred dollars for a full day's session and he'd made it entirely worth it. Macavoy had Victria start with the smallest semi-automatics, the 380s, in order to get a feel for weight, posture and hand eye coordination. She'd done well, taken her instruction and gradually decreasing her patterns to three inches, not so much with the head shots, but very accurate at center mass. Then, by the time Macavoy had her shoot the 45 semi-automatics and revolvers, Victria could not, for the life of her, get properly re-steadied after the initial shot of each more cumbersome and heavier weapon. It was a concern for them both because he had convinced her that it was ultimately a 45 she should have for protection.

"The primary reason one becomes a gun owner is because they expect a guarantee that the fire arm they choose will immediately neutralize the threat;" Sargent Macavoy had said as Victria looked over the compact Sig he handed her, "Particularly if the threat happens also to be armed. So, avoid 22s. Properly placed shots into the eye is one thing, but not likely to happen under the stress of threat. A 380; fine if you're shooting hollow points and you're within less than ten feet. I suggest that you might purchase one for carrying concealed when away from home."

As Macavoy spoke, Victria gently turned the weapon between her hands; admiring its stout yet sleek frame, its light weight, polymer base, its black steel muzzle, its sights and the cris-cross etched custom rose wood grip.

"But, for home protection, when there's the potential of having only a split second to be sure you need to shoot because there's a single armed intruder or maybe more than one, and armed with shot guns, in your home; you'll want a 45. With the reliability of a 1911 design, its action, the ease of its trigger pull, with eight plus one hollow tipped rounds, that's grunted stopping power, whether the intruder is seven feet tall and four hundred pounds and high on crack cocaine and you just get him in his thigh, he'll be feeling it enough to make him want to crawl back the way he came or surrender before getting hit a second time."

Macavoy stopped speaking as Victria aligned her sights and prepared to fire. In spite of the greater kick of the weapon, Victria's recover was quick, and she had eventually come to shoot the same three inch wide patterns as she had with the smaller 380 calibers. Victria was making consistent head shots as well, and had lost herself in the gun, clip after clip. Macavoy looked on like a proud father. Victria took a break to once again admire the gun, running her fingers along the warm muzzle; happy to play with fire and not get burned. Glancing up, she regarded the old instructor. It would be the one, she'd told him. It would be the gun she'd buy when the time was right.

"Hey what do you think about going to the range together next weekend?" suggested Simon; having taken a seat in one of the two leather upholstered high backs set against the far wall parallel to her desk.

"You shoot; Simon?" asked Victria as she glanced down at the tablet on her lap; a video stream of Melody masturbating for her in front of camera one.

"I do, every now and again." He said; taking a mint from a bowl she'd set on the marble topped coffee table set before the two chairs, "I have a few choice arms in my gun safe. After our conversation on Friday, I realized how long they've been just; sitting there, which, I suppose, says something positive about how safe it actually is, around here, in spite of all the crap you hear about in the news."

"Right, right." Victria intoned as she carefully slid the tablet back down into the bag under her desk, "So why didn't you tell me about your gun enthusiasm on Friday?"

"Well, it's not the sort of thing you normally bring up during conversation at work." Stated Simon.

"True." She said.

Really asshole, she thought. You never would have brought it up with me; even if I'm the office's alpha female, I'm still just a female. And, as if you wouldn't bring it up in the men's room after you just saw that the VP has a bigger dick than you. "

"And I realized that if, well, it was an area of interest for you, and you brought it up, well than I could be honest about my; interests."

Do tell. Interests now, he says.

"By the way," Simon went on, "I saw that article about the robbery in the paper Saturday morning."

"You did." Said Victria; sitting back suddenly, her attention now keenly undivided, "I want it understood that I gave my name to no one nor had I made any comment of any kind."

"Relax Victria. You were the hero, it appears. You didn't commit any crime."

They held each other's gaze for a time.

"The chief was actually quite impressed, and feels inclined to reward you himself."

"For what?

"Having a pair of the biggest balls in the executive suite, apparently. But I gotta' ask: why didn't you shoot the guys?"

Victria hadn't wanted to, but she'd paused just a little too long, and she saw Simon's eyes change in response.

"There was never any trouble in that town before that, so it's like you say: the guns just sit there. I don't know. I just didn't carry that night."

Victria fixed her gaze back on her desktop's screen, getting back to assessing the risk involved with the Jiffy Clean account. Through her periphery, she saw that Simon hadn't stopped studying her.

I don't need shit from you bitch. I just got to this level. I don't need to be fucked with. I just need you to stay the fuck out of my way.

"So what do you say; you think we could shoot together, maybe next Saturday?"

Victria sighed. You prick, she thought. Now you've got a game you want to play Simon? Fine. You are going to get three needles today for this ass hole.

"You know what?" she said, "Let's do it. Meet me at the Wolf's Den, in Bristol; let's say around ten on Saturday morning?"

4

Victria arrived home later that evening, struggling her way through the front door with a few ungainly bags of variously sized boxes. As far as she knew, Melody was busy at the laptop she'd been loaned to take her online courses with. Victria closed the door behind her, scanned the living room and the dining room, and then headed down to the basement.

At first she thought that it didn't matter whether Melody saw her walk in with two new fire arms, a small gun safe, pocket and shoulder holsters, boxes of magazines, a gun cleaning kit and a dozen boxes of ammunition. But then she'd thought about her behavior during and after the robbery, and decided to ease her in a little bit at a time. As for the trip to the gun outfitters, Victria would have made the purchases sooner or later, without Simon's provocation. However, he had provoked her, called her bluff and dared her. So there she was; forced into doing something outside of her own good time. Fucking dick, she thought as she stowed the items inside the little crawl space under the basement stairs.

Presently, Victria made her way back upstairs and found Melody just where she thought she'd be; reclined naked in the master bed, the laptop set on a bean bag tray over her lap.

"Whose bed is this Slave?"

"Yours Mistress." Said Melody, looking up.

"Put that down and come here." Victria demanded.

Melody stepped immediately to it. In less than three seconds, she was kneeling at Victria's feet.

"Love my shoes slut."

Melody paused, but only for half a second. Then, she scooted quickly back, brought her lips to her mistress's burgundy flats and proceeded to stroke and kiss them. Victria watched her for a time before instructing her to stop. Melody then eased back up, cast her face downward and settled her hands onto her thighs. Victria suddenly grabbed her by her hair, wrenching the back of her head so that she faced her.

"Mistress, please!" she cried.

"Where is my dinner?" Victria asked, loosening her grip slightly.

"I prepared you a meal, but you hadn't come home, so I put it away. And I decided-"

"Well here I am." Said Victria as she let her grip loose and then pushed Melody's face away, "Now go get me my dinner."

"Yes Mistress." Whimpered Melody as she rose to her feet.

But before she could make her way out of the room, Victria grabbed her by the arm, threw her face down onto the bed, and then gripped her wrists together at the small of her back. In the next instant, her finger thuroughly lathered with saliva, Victria poked her index into Melody's pussy.

"You ungrateful little whore." She growled, "There is a time and a place for your studies, and it is not in my bed nor is it on my time."

"Yes Mistress." Whined Melody as Victria's finger found its way into her little pink anus.

"Is this deep enough slut?"

"No Mistress. I deserve deeper."

Victria worked her finger into Melody's anus past the knuckle.

"How about this whore?"

"Yes Mistress!" grunted Melody, "That's it. Forgive me Mistress! I won't do it again!"

Victria relented, and carefully extracted the digit from her slave's ass.

"Now go get some whipies and clean this shit off my fucking finger." Victria hissed, "You know what? I don't want your fine food tonight."

"But Mistress!" Melody whimpered as she ran back from the bathroom with the wipes, "I made a nice vegetable casserole."

"Oh I'm sure it's splendid, but I suddenly feel like fast food drive through. So when you're finished with my finger, I want you to go outside and wait for me in the car."

"Naked?" shuddered Melody as she finished rubbing Victria's finger clean with a third wipe.

"Of course naked!" Victria confirmed, "It's exactly what you deserve and exactly what I want. Now go."

Victria let Melody sit and wait in the car while she took her time changing out of her work clothes and into a worn pair of jeans, a cashmere sweater and track shoes. Eventually, she made her way to the car and hopped in beside a very nervous Melody; her arms folded across her breasts.

"It's dark out now." Remarked Victria as she turned the ignition, "You won't be that visible. Put your arms down and do not cross your legs for any reason."

Nervous, dejected, Melody did as she was bid. Victria pulled out of the driveway and headed east. She drove them through the center of town, passing by the grocery where the robbery had taken place. They both peered in the front window to see that it was business as usual inside. A mile more, Melody having been corrected twice for slouching, they arrived at the town's Jet Burger.

They were third in line when Victria instructed Melody to switch seats with her. That done, Melody slowly drove up to the window and placed Victria's order. The young man at the pay window took his sweet time about handing back the credit card to his topless customer, and he seemed to be happily suffering through the dilemma as to what he could stand on in order to see if she was bottomless as well. The girl at the food window was stunned deep red and had been so brain dulled with shock that she nearly dropped the bags before Melody could grab them.

"That wasn't so bad Mistress." Said Melody as she carried Victria's food to the house, withdrawing some fries from the bag and munching on them.

"Oh, really?" questioned Victria as she unlocked the front door, "Is that supposed to be some reverse psychology so that I'll decide not to put you through that again?"

"No. It's the truth. It wasn't so bad. I mean, come on; you don't want us to get arrested for having that kind of fun. I mean; you had fun, right Mistress?"

"I did." Admitted Victria as she ushered Melody into the house.

"Was it fun enough that it made you wet; Mistress?"

Victria didn't answer as she watched Melody head to the kitchen table and begin to set her domme's food on the dinner mat before her seat. Finished, Melody looked up to meet Victria's gaze. They stared at each other for a moment more, and then Melody slowly advanced to her domme. Once again, standing close, the chance for either woman to bestow a kiss came and went. Then, falling to her knees, Melody removed Victria's track shoes, got back to her feet, and then led Victria to her seat. As she sat down to finally eat, Melody ushered the track shoes upstairs to the closet and then returned to her dome's side. Back onto her knees, Melody nestled in beside Victria and rested her head against the woman's thigh.

"Mistress?"

"What is it Girl."

"Tell me: what punishment must I endure in order so that I might have the pleasure of tasting the nectre of your sex?"

Victria went about quietly eating her meal, making Melody wait for her response.

"You must agree to wear my collar." She said finally, "Any punishment you endure will be for the sake of our pleasure or mine alone, depending on my desire at the time."

"Then tell me where it is Mistress, and I will fetch it so that you might lock it around my neck."

"It's not that simple Wench. It needs to be specially commissioned and engraved. It's, the locking of the collar, the binding of you to me, is essentially a long term civil union. Do you want to pleasure me with your mouth that badly that you would give yourself entirely to me, show the world outside that you are owned exclusively by me? Do you always let your lust lead you so lightly to make such decisions?

"As if it wasn't lust that compelled you to take me in? An admiration for my entrepreneurial spirit in deed; you didn't eat my pussy the way you had out of any good business sense. You ate it out of sheer desire."

"Enjoying tasty pussy is a natural compunction for me."

"And not for me?"

"Yours is mine to have. Mine is mine to give."

"Then give it to me Mistress. Or do you have; concerns about that as well?"

Victria sighed and looked down at her slave.

"You took your introductory class today?"

"I did Mistress."

"What is marketing then?"

"Marketing is all activities conducted to prepare for sales. Sales are all activities required to close the deal.

Hence marketing is a branch of business as much as it is a social science. We buy goods from a vendor, which creates a transaction."

It was then that Melody lifted her head up from Victria's thigh, and looked thoughtfully off to her right.

"Then there is the exchange process; the way two or more parties give something of value to each other to satisfy their respective needs. The marketer, a company like Jet Burger, offers goods and services desired by the market, its customers. In return, the market; the customer, gives back something of value to the marketer. Both parties receive something of value in the exchange process. The exchange process is the beginning point for marketing. The exchange process creates utility or on-going interdependent supply and demand."