Authors: Alex Jordaine
The Best of Alex Jordaine
A collection of 12 erotic stories
Published by Xcite Books Ltd – 2013
Copyright © Alex Jordaine 2013
The right of Alex Jordaine to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite 11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY
To Mistress G, the love of my life
‘Lust’s passion will be served; it demands, it militates, it tyrannizes.’
–Marquis de Sade
|It’s a Sin|
|That Eureka Moment|
|The Best Laid Plans|
|Into the Dark Woods|
|Last Slave Standing|
|Anita and Angie Get Wet|
Outside the sky was heavy with black clouds and it was raining hard. The wind was blowing branches around and gulls shrieked, almost inaudible in the storm. Isabella, a sculptured beauty with lustrous, shoulder-length black hair and a shapely figure, ushered her windswept friend John – or Master John as he was known on the Brighton fetish scene – into her big, high-ceilinged living room. The room was luxuriously appointed: all dark leather and mahogany furniture, pristine antiques, rare china, and fine oil paintings. Isabella fixed her guest a drink and gestured with an elegant hand for him to come and sit with her on the couch.
‘Thanks for seeing me,’ John said, a worried frown creasing his handsome features. ‘I didn’t know who to turn to for advice about the problem I’ve got with my new slave, Dee, but you seemed the best person.’
‘No thanks are necessary,’ the dominatrix replied. She waited for John to elaborate, gazing at him with dark, shining eyes. Those eyes had a strikingly Asiatic cast and, just as strikingly, were as black as coal. Isabella had luminescent white skin, by contrast, high cheekbones and a wide, sensuous mouth.
‘You haven’t met Dee yet, have you?’ John said.
‘No I haven’t,’ Isabella agreed.
‘She’s lovely,’ John enthused. ‘I’m absolutely nuts about her.’
‘So far so good,’ Isabella said. ‘Where’s the problem?’
John took a sip from his drink and glanced out of the window. It really was wild out there. The weather had been like this for the last week – and it was supposed to be the beginning of summer in sunny Brighton. So far the weather had been atrocious, a south-westerly twisting off the English Channel day after stormy day. The seaside city was definitely not at its best. Nor was John. He looked back at Isabella, cleared his throat and said, ‘I’m finding Dee increasingly difficult to control.’
‘Feisty at times is she?’ Isabella asked.
‘Yes, and argumentative, truculent, opinionated, obstinate, disobedient ….’
‘I get the picture,’ Isabella interjected with a smile. ‘But don’t you perhaps think that by behaving like that she’s just trying to goad you into disciplining her more strictly?’
‘It seems a distinct possibility.’ Isabella liked John but to her mind he was less than convincing as a dominator. Not exactly the type. He was an amiable sort, never exactly pushy. ‘In fact, if you want my honest opinion,’ she went on, ‘I think you’re probably too damn nice to keep such an obviously wilful character under control. I hope you don’t mind me saying that.’ Isabella valued John’s friendship and didn’t want to offend him. On the other hand, there was no point in beating about the bush.
‘I’ve had a lot worse insults,’ John replied with a wry smile. ‘But I must admit being too nice, as you put it, isn’t exactly an ideal trait in a Master – particularly with a handful like Dee to try and keep in order.’
‘The way I see it, you’ve got some of the best characteristics of a great dom,’ Isabella went on, sugaring the pill a little for her friend. ‘You’re brilliant at Japanese rope bondage and wax play too, and you can certainly administer a good whipping. But you don’t have the fundamentally cruel streak that’s needed to be a truly effective dominator.’
‘You’re right, although I hate to admit it,’ John said. ‘The trouble is I can’t make myself into something I’m not, I know that. Yet I’m genuinely worried that the whole situation could lead to Dee and I splitting up and I really don’t want that to happen – I’m madly in love with the girl. What on earth am I going to do, Isabella?’
The dominatrix frowned. ‘There must be a solution to this,’ she said, pausing to think for a moment, ‘and … Yes … I think I know what it is.’
‘What if Dee could be handed over to someone who’s not only extremely sadistic but is also someone you personally feel you can trust?’ Isabella said. ‘This would only be for a brief session so she can be given a short, sharp shock, so to speak. That might well do the trick with your Dee, don’t you think?’
‘What, bring her to heel?’
‘Yes,’ Isabella replied. ‘And make her realise just how well off she is with you as her master.’
‘I think you might well be on to something,’ John said, brightening. ‘What you’re suggesting’s got quite a ring about it.’
‘Also,’ Isabella continued, ‘there’d be an added bonus for you if you went ahead with my suggestion.’
‘You could threaten Dee with further sessions with the person concerned if she gets out of line in the future. That would be a good way of keeping her under control longer term, don’t you agree?’
‘I do, Isabella,’ John said. ‘In fact, the whole idea sounds increasingly good to me the more you explain it. Did you have somebody specifically in mind to discipline Dee in this cruel and ingenious way?’
‘Yes,’ Isabella replied simply. ‘Me.’
Isabella and Dee were in Isabella’s luxurious living room. Its tall windows were curtained in heavy linen and net. Outside the sky was leaden with dark clouds and rain was coming down in fierce, grey sheets. Leaves clogged the gullies and lay in swathes across the pavement. The summer weather remained dreadful. It was definitely better to be indoors – for some people at any rate.
Isabella sat in a black leather armchair. Wearing only a chainmail bra that barely contained her beautiful breasts, a tiny side-split miniskirt also of chainmail, and high-heeled shoes, she looked magnificent. Immediately adjacent to the chair in which she sat was a side table that had a selection of whips, paddles, canes, and other disciplinary implements neatly lined up on its surface.
Dee, the expression on her face as blank a mask as she could make it, stood before the formidable dominatrix so she could inspect her. Isabella noted the stubborn set of her jaw and the glint of disobedience in her big, lustrous brown eyes. She was also struck by the almost perfect symmetry of her features and how lovely looking she was.
Dee had dark hair, which was shiny and straight and hung to her shoulders. Small earrings glittered at her ears. She had full breasts and tight, tanned legs. Her glorious figure was enhanced by the flesh-toned minidress she was wearing, which left nothing to the imagination. Her nipples were plainly visible beneath the dress and she was obviously naked underneath it. As well as being low-cut, showing a large expanse of her ample bosom, the dress was minuscule and diaphanous. If anything, it seemed to make her more naked.
‘That’s a nice dress you’re nearly wearing,’ Isabella said with a throaty chuckle. ‘Mind you, I’m one to talk!’
Dee kept her expression impassive, thinking what’s she trying to do here? Just be friendly? Break the ice? Lull me into a false sense of security?
‘Dee, I know what you’re thinking,’ Isabella said suddenly, unnerving the slave. ‘Just stop it, all right.’ She got out of her chair to stand in front of Dee and her dark eyes bored into her with piercing severity.
‘Undo the top of your dress,’ she ordered brusquely. ‘Take your breasts out and be quick about it.’
‘Yes, mistress,’ Dee replied and immediately did as she’d been told.
‘They’re nice and full, it’s true.’ Isabella stroked and lifted Dee’s breasts approvingly. ‘But I see no sign of any recent discipline. That concerns me.’ She shook her head in apparent dismay.
‘These are lovely too,’ she continued, pinching Dee’s pinkish-brown nipples, which protruded urgently in response. ‘Tell me, do you have sensitive nipples?’
Dee did not at first reply and kept her expression impassive. But Isabella saw the defiance that flickered in her eyes.
‘Well?’ Isabella asked again, an edge to her voice. ‘Do you have sensitive nipples?’
‘Yes, mistress,’ Dee replied apprehensively, ‘I do – very.’
‘Good,’ Isabella said, viciously squeezing the slave’s engorged buds, ‘then you won’t like me doing this.’ Dee gasped with pain and hunched forward, her head bowed, her dark hair falling across her face.
‘Don’t slouch like that. Stand up straight,’ Isabella told her as she herself returned to her seat. ‘Now lift up your dress at the front. I want to examine your pussy.’
‘Mmm, very nice,’ Isabella commented. ‘No pubic hair at all … Labia distended – lovely, like two petals … Clitoris pronounced. I’ve been reliably informed you keep your sex clean shaven at all times. Tell me, is that so?’
‘Well, at least you’re doing one of the things expected of a good slave, but precious little else, I’m given to understand.’
‘No buts, slave. The only butt I’m interested in is this one.’ Isabella gestured with an impatient twirl of her hand that she wished Dee to turn her back to her. ‘Lift your dress again.’
‘You have a lovely round behind,’ she told her. ‘It’s eminently spankable.’
‘Thank you, mistress,’ Dee replied, looking over her shoulder at Isabella and smiling for the first time. It was an engaging smile, very sexy. Her brown eyes glittered seductively.
‘That doesn’t mean I’m happy with it,’ Isabella said, refusing to connect with that sexy smile, that seductive gaze, and fixing Dee with another sharp stare instead. She then looked back at the girl’s backside. ‘Where’s the evidence of recent punishment to this lovely rear of yours? The bruises, the weals, and the welts? I’ll have to put that right
tout de suite.
Come across my knee, slave, now.’
Dee bent over Isabella’s lap, placing her hands on the floor in front of her. The cheeks of her backside tensed as the dominatrix flicked the bottom of her insubstantial dress out of the way to fully reveal her comely rear again. Isabella stroked its beautiful, soft globes with one hand and moved her other hand to Dee’s sex.
Her fingers slipped inside her slippery-wet vagina and as she moved to touch the pink thorn of her clitoris Dee let out a moan of pleasure.
‘You’re extremely wet down here,’ Isabella said. ‘I hope that doesn’t mean you’re expecting to enjoy this.’ Isabella suddenly squeezed Dee’s clit hood, causing the slave to cringe in startled agony.
‘You must understand something, Dee,’ the dominatrix explained, moving the hand that had been stroking the slave’s rear to her breasts and squeezing hard on both her nipples for a second time, making her squeal. ‘We’re here so you can be severely disciplined, not for you to derive pleasure. Understood?’
‘Understood, mistress,’ Dee replied, shivering with pain.
‘On the other hand –’ Isabella plunged her fingers into Dee’s dripping pussy and started to masturbate her ‘– if at any time you find yourself on the verge of climaxing, you must get my permission to come. Clear?’
‘Clear, mistress,’ the slave replied, gasping. She became increasingly frantic as Isabella’s fingers worked more vigorously between the lips of her sex.
‘I … Ah … Oh … Permission to come, mistress,’ Dee cried out suddenly.
‘Say “please”,’ Isabella taunted, increasing the pace of the rough finger-fucking she was giving the slave.
‘Permission to come, please, mistress, oh please …’ Dee begged.
‘Permission granted,’ Isabella replied, and the young slave climaxed in great, shuddering spasms.
‘See how good I am to you,’ Isabella said next. ‘Here, lick.’ She put her fingers, sticky with Dee’s love juices, across her lips and the slave kissed and licked them. ‘Now suck them.’ She slowly pushed two fingers into Dee’s mouth and she sucked them greedily as Isabella slid them back and forth between her lips.
‘Look Dee, fair’s fair,’ Isabella said, withdrawing her fingers from the young woman’s mouth. ‘You’ve just enjoyed some real pleasure. Now you must endure some real pain. Agreed?’
‘Yes, mistress,’ she replied uncertainly.
Isabella paused for a moment to admire Dee’s backside again, all round and bare and vulnerable, before beginning her spanking.
The crisp sound announced that the spanking had begun and the red palm print on Dee’s backside bore witness to the cruel accuracy of that first stroke.
Isabella’s hand cracked down again on the curved cheeks with another harsh spank.
After many more robust smacks, when that luxurious living room rang with the sound of hand on naked flesh, Isabella told Dee that her backside was reddening impressively. She then increased the frequency and harshness of her blows, cracking her hand down onto Dee’s backside with relentless vigour, following one smack after another in swift succession. The cheeks of the young slave’s rear smarted with a fire that made her tense and squirm in pain, and with each slap her tensing and squirming increased.
‘I can see a nice, red glow now,’ Isabella said, pausing briefly to admire her handiwork before returning to her task with a will. When she increased the momentum of the spanking still further Dee reached back with a hand to try and protect herself.
‘Stop that this instant, bitch,’ Isabella snapped, brushing the hand away. She did actually stop beating Dee for a short time and gently stroked her backside but only to quickly resume spanking her, this time with even greater ferocity. She now also included her upper thighs in the thrashing and did not stop until that whole area of her body was coloured an even red. Dee let out an involuntary wail of pain as the full effect of the spanking spread through her body.
‘Ooh, poor baby,’ Isabella cooed in mock solicitude. ‘Does that hurt?’
‘Yes, mistress,’ came the halting reply.
‘Tough shit,’ her tormentor retorted. ‘For goodness’ sake, girl, I’ve barely even started.’
Isabella then pulled Dee off her lap by the hair. ‘Stand up and take off your dress and shoes,’ she demanded. Isabella got to her feet herself once Dee was naked. She instructed her to turn round so she could examine her punished rear. When she’d done this Isabella told her to turn back and face her. She looked the slave in the eye.
Dee looked back at Isabella, again trying to keep any emotion from showing on her face. But inside she remained defiant, repeating to herself over and over her own determined chant.
I won’t let
her win, I won’t let her win, I won’t let her win, I won’t …
Isabella interrupted this inner mantra: ‘You know, Dee,’ she said, shooting her an incendiary look, ‘I can tell you – having myself just carried out an inspection – that you now have two lovely red cheeks.’ Isabella had again noted the gleam of rebellion in the young woman’s eyes that her expressionless face was unable to disguise. ‘No, sorry, three red cheeks,’ she added, suddenly slapping her round the face hard.