Guardian Girl (The Chronicles of Staffordshire) (43 page)

The title suited her. She liked the ring.
“Mistress Lenore.”

Lenore turned and leered at Rory, her eyes communicating a woman in an evolving position of power, command… Domination. Lenore’s chest rose, her posture stiffening, her role firming.

With the sight of Lenore’s interview chained to the bed and straddled by the oversexed maid, and confident of Lenore’s acceptance of her new role in the house, Rory felt his cock rise. Not yet. He pointed to an archway on right of the rear wall.

“My dear, there is something for you around the corner over there. I suggest you go check it out and try it on before you conduct the interview.”

“But before I do that, Rory...”

Lenore turned and approached The Master of the house, the semi-retired model’s catwalk confidence making a guest appearance. She grabbed his crotch forcefully, massaging his dick with strong, rousing grips in front of the maid’s watchful eyes. Lenore pressed her lips to Rory's, weaving their tongues together, signaling her unquestioned acceptance of his gift. Her aggressive foreplay satisfied her beau.

Lenore withdrew slightly, whispering to Rory, “I love it! I will take it all! I will take
you!
When can I have it delivered?”

Rory laughed as Lenore massaged his penis through his pants.

“Now, darling, what was that about something I must check out before the interview?”

“Around the corner to the right, Ma’am. Then, take the first door to your left. You can’t miss it. The light is on for you.”

As Lenore headed toward her next surprise, she took further inventory of the room. A large, circular, steel bondage wheel mounted on multi-axis gimbals. Multiple chairs designed to facilitate innovative, pseudo-acrobatic sex. A kitchenette for times when marathon sex demanded quick nourishment. Black and dark-red leather couches everywhere. A springy, jungle-gym-ish “Do Me” chair in the middle of the floor. Low, cushioned benches perfect for exploration of a variety of kneeling, missionary, and doggy style positions.

Walking past each device, Lenore imagined how she would use each toy to induce agonizing pleasure in her forever love.

Lenore turned the corner and saw five doors. One, leading into a large walk-in closet, was open and lit. The others were closed, labeled, “Closet 2,” “Closet 3,” "Bathroom," and “Infirmary.” She walked toward the light, moving past the threshold and into a fully-stocked, fully-kinked closet of leather, latex, garters, stockings, kinky shoes, belts, and other fantasy wear. She noticed an entire section devoted to church-related kink, with priest-ware and fantasy nun outfits in latex and short-hem styles. She imagined Rory dressed in priestly vestments filling her naughty nun’s notch with his corrupt flesh.

Lenore finally noticed what Rory intended for her. The ensemble hung from a dressing rack near the main door, next to an armless leather chair. He taped a note to the outfit with two words written on it.

“Interview Suit.”

A black leather corset with attached garter straps, hung from the dressing rack. Opaque white, black-back-seam stockings, thigh-high black, patent leather boots, and a combination of a wide, chain-link choker and chain-link belt finished the ensemble. Two, 3”-wide, studded, black leather wrist cuffs sat on the accessory tray.

Moisture surged within the future Mistress of Staffordshire. Lenore shivered as she considered the ensemble Rory selected. She ran her fingers down the leather corset and fingered the cuffs, sensing they were an overdue extension of her personality she could finally embrace without fear.

Shedding her clothing and dropping it unceremoniously to the floor, Lenore stood naked before the dominatrix-themed attire. She paused and looked into the mirror at her thriving, 26-year-old supermodel body, running her hands up and down her crunch-tuned abs. For fun, Lenore pressed her fingers into her soft, moist pussy during the down strokes. Emboldened, Lenore shoved a finger into her vagina, taking a moment’s sidebar to finger-fuck herself before returning her attention to the task of putting on the ‘interview suit.’ The slut on the bed could wait a little while longer. The Mistress required self-love.

Momentarily satisfied, Lenore returned to the dressing rack.

“Hmmm… Let us see how the ‘hag’ looks in this…”

Lenore sat and put on the stockings. She loved the way the backseams highlighted the lines of her calves and thighs.

“Perhaps a little stretching is in order before we exercise the pussy?”

Lenore sat on the floor, spreading her legs flat and wide. With her yoga trained, limber torso she bent fully forward and pressed her nose to the concrete floor, grabbing her toes with outstretched hands. Rising from the floor, Lenore placed her feet together and bent, grabbing her ankles, massaging her legs on the way up.

“Ohhh… You feel so good. You are ready for love, aren’t you my beautiful legs?”

Returning to the seat, Lenore slipped on the boots. They fit perfectly.

“Some naughty assistant has been measuring me in my sleep!”

Lenore put on the corset and cinched it tight with the front-tie laces. The forced posture flashed her back to life on the runway. She adjusted her tits in the half-cups for maximum nipple-peeking potential. She put on the chain-link choker and belt. She clipped the garter straps to her stockings, giving them a nice snap to experience the sting of arousal. Lenore paused. The leather cuffs signified a dramatic transformation from “Old Lenore” to “New Lenore.” She understood the significance of their inclusion in Rory's selection of wardrobe. She affixed them to her wrists.

Finally… Lenore picked up a springy, black, riding crop with a wide, floppy leather paddle at the end. She held it taught between her hands and bowed it upward. Releasing the flat-tipped end, she slapped it against her thigh, producing a sharp, “Oooh!” and “Ahhh!” with each impact. Lenore lifted the crop high above her head and windmilled back, slapping her ass.

“Ahhh… Ohhhh… You feel good in my hands, my old friend.”

Examining herself in the mirror, Lenore twirled around and around. She roused with love for her incendiary body. Her pussy moistened.

It was time to return to the interview. Lenore left the room, rounded the corner, and met Rory’s eyes. He stared in wonderment. His future bride captivated no matter what she wore. In Mistressware, she inhabited her truest element. Lenore appeared powerful, able to break weaker men and women with little more than her amber-eyed stare.

Rory’s crotch throbbed.

“What do you think, dear?” she asked, sauntering toward the bed.

“Amazing, Lenore! Simply amazing!”

Maricela glanced over her shoulder to catch a vision of the Mistress-designate, instantly feeling her spine tingle with anticipation. She leaned down to the blindfolded sub and gushed. “You are so
lucky
! This ought to be the best interview
ever!
”

“You may leave now, Maricela,” directed Lenore. “Mr. St. Cloud and I will take it from here.”

“As you wish, Ma’am.”

During her exit of the bed, the maid shared a critical detail. “By the way, Ma’am, her safe word is ‘red'.”

Never having played the role of the Dominatrix, Lenore presumed the purpose of the “safe” word, though she had no intent of pursuing pain-inducing play with the interviewee. Not this time, anyway.

“Thank you, Maricela. I will remember that. Now… Be gone!”

Lenore swatted Maricela’s rump with her riding crop, eliciting a girlish squeal from the maid, and sent her away with a directive flick of her wrist.

Lenore expanded her exploration of the also 26-year-old woman. No longer content with merely viewing her captive, Lenore touched her. Lenore knelt on the edge of the bed and pressed her mouth to Marla’s right nipple. Clamping the nipple gently between her teeth, Lenore pulled upward. “Ffffffffff,” Marla huffed through clenched teeth.

Lenore ran her tongue down Marla’s abdomen, flicking the woman’s clit and tracing a line from her V to her toes. Marla whimpered.

The woman who hours earlier arrived at the St. Cloud mansion merely a supermodel and superstar attorney, stood in absolute dominance over her submissive captive. Punishment was Lenore’s to dispense. Pity was Lenore’s to withhold.

Lenore pressed the flattened end of the crop to the top of Marla’s foot and dragged it from Marla’s toes to her tits. Marla gasped each time the crop stimulated one of her erogenous zones.

“My, my… You are a beautiful creature,” Lenore noted rhetorically.

Rory coached Marla in the proper protocol of the visit, having already met with her to prepare her for the second phase of her initiation into the house of St. Cloud. If Ms. De La Fuente approved of her candidacy, it was all but a forgone conclusion that Marla would, as had Sonia before her, “get the job.”

“As you wish, Ma’am.”

Lenore flicked the crop lightly against Marla’s clit.

“Ohhhhh God…” gasped the applicant.

“Yes, Miss Dearing. You are a beautiful creature because I say you are a beautiful creature. You are a beautiful creature, eager to be fucked. I want you to say it. Say, ‘I am a beautiful creature and I want to be fucked.”

“I am a beautiful creature and I want to be fucked.”

“I am a beautiful creature and I want to be fucked, ‘who’?”

“I am a beautiful creature and I want to be fucked, Ma’am!”

“Very good!” Lenore slapped Marla’s nipples with the crop, eliciting winces from her captive assistant.

“Now, dear, say, ‘I am your fucking slave.”

“I am your fucking slave, Ma’am.”

“Very good! She is a fast learner, is she not Rory?”

“Yes, dear. She is indeed.”

“And,”
Rory thought,
“so are you, my dear!”

“Rory, where is her resume?”

“On that chair…” Rory pointed to a narrow-backed, black leather chair placed by the left side of the bed.

Lenore picked up the resume and settled into the seat. She lifted her left leg and dangled it over the arm, spreading her pink for Rory’s enjoyment. Lenore eyed Rory, licked her lips, and smiled. His desire was obvious. The Master wished to pound the applicant’s pussy in front of his girlfriend.

“Oh, Rory, would you please be a dear and take off your clothes? I want you to climb onto the bed with the whore.”

Overflowing with anticipation, Rory gleefully played along. “Why of course, Ma’am! Any particular reason?”

“You nasty boy! Do you really need to ask? To fuck this miserable whore, of course! I want you to lie with her, with your beautiful cock teasing her whore pussy. Cover her body. Caress her. Kiss her. Be her lover. But do NOT fuck her until I permit it.”

“As you wish, Ma’am.”

Rory complied eagerly, quickly slipping out of his clothes. He grabbed a condom from the cabinet to the right of the bed, wrapped his wang, and climbed on, crawling atop the new assistant. The sensation of the Master’s flesh rubbing against her body stirred the young woman. She struggled against her shackles.

Rory positioned himself as required, placing the head of his dick between Marla’s labia. He pressed its snugly into her coochie but withheld penetration, as dictated by the Mistress-to-be. Propping himself up on his stiffened arms, Rory permitted Lenore free access to the sub’s face and tits.

Lenore flicked her crop against Marla’s thigh. Marla winced.

“Now… Marla, I have several questions. Answer them to my satisfaction and The Master will fuck you. Answer them poorly and I will punish him in your stead. Do you understand?”

Marla smiled. The boss
wanted
the interviewee to get The Master spanked a few times. “Yes, Ma’am. If I answer to your satisfaction, The Master will fuck me. If I answer poorly, you’ll whip the Master’s fucking ass.”

Lenore grinned. Marla and she would get along just perfectly. The job was sealed. Both women simply wanted to extend the fantasy charade and have some fun at Rory’s expense.

Rory tilted his head, squinted at Lenore, and quipped. “Sounds like someone here is getting the better end of the bargain…”

“SILENCE!” Lenore bellowed, slapping Rory’s ass with her crop.

“OUCH! Yes, Ma’am,” Rory cowered appropriately.

“Good! Now… Let us begin.” Flipping casually through the pages of the applicant’s resume, Lenore’s attention came back to the top of each page. Her lips curled with devilish delight. Three little letters sealed Lenore’s descent into depravity.

M-R-S.

Thirty

Lenore’s eyes sparkled at the irony of the interview. Another piece of Staffordshire’s libertine puzzle fell into place.

She was about to have a
swinging
good time!

Lenore peered at Rory and smiled, speaking to the splayed applicant. “Well, whore… I was mistaken! You are not ‘Miss’ Dearing at all, are you? You are, in fact,
Mrs.
Dearing. Is that correct?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”