Author's Note: This story returns to the same characters introduced by my first story, Abducting An Angel. I suggest reading that one first (or at least the first section) to get an appreciation for the characters, but it's not strictly necessary in order to follow this story.

The first part is more of a teaser than anything, so I apologise for that in advance. But rest assured, the good stuff is coming. Look at the tags for hints. :)


Part 1

"No."

Alicia was glaring at me with a resolute expression, stubbornly refusing to hear my argument. I'd suggested that we hire a professional dominatrix for a bit of extra flair in our bondage games, but she wouldn't hear of it.

"But it'll just be-"

"Gordon," she said sharply, cutting me off. "I told you when we first met. I'm not a lesbian. I have no desire to be dominated by some gay female sex worker - nor anyone besides you, for that matter."

As much as that made me feel like the luckiest man alive, I couldn't let her see how taken I was by her loyalty. It would set a bad precedence: she was too smart to pass up any opportunity for such easy manipulation. And I could remember that first conversation perfectly well - she had awoken naked and restrained in this very dungeon, snatched from her old life and dragged crying and whimpering into mine.

But I'd fallen in love with my captive. Her beautiful body, her angelic smile, her innocence, her sharp intelligence... We'd married barely a week after I'd abducted her. Call it fate; call it a twisted perversion of marriage; whatever the case, I'd been thrilled. I'd even let her out of the dungeon. Eventually. But now we're as close as two strands of hair. Stuck together with sweat. The hair, that is, not... Well, maybe that too.

We've certainly enjoyed an exciting marriage and sex life since then, mixing things up every weekend with some heavy bondage and occasional mind games. There was nothing held back in our relationship; nothing between us but some occasional strands of rope. She was always the submissive, of course - I had no desire to be the powerless one.

But now I had an unshakeable craving to witness some girl-on-girl action. As any straight guy does from time to time, I suppose. The problem was, my wife was obstinately opposed to being intimate with anyone but me. An honourable notion, but it was hardly infidelity when I was the one pushing for her to submit to another woman. Her real objection was not about submitting to someone else, but about submitting specifically to a female. There was no doubt in my mind that she would enjoy it if she actually gave it a chance, though.

As much as I sincerely wanted to respect her wishes in this, I still had my craving for lesbian action to address, so I was going to go ahead with my plans whether she liked them or not. I was the man of this relationship, after all - it was my right to take charge of my wife's sexual liaisons.

I feigned defeat and went off to make the booking. I settled with a service called Domme-in-8, which claimed to be able to dispatch any available personnel to any local address in just 8 minutes. I was hardly local, but I'm sure they wouldn't take much longer than that. And all of their female dommes were also shamelessly attractive, which was an impressive feat when their photos were alongside my wife's.

Just filling in a form on Alicia's behalf was getting me aroused. Even with our weekly sexual exploits, I could never tire of my wife's beauty. She always did amazing things with her hair, too. Today she had a lock of hair from each side of her head pulled back into a plait, creating the appearance of an elegant tiara around the crown of her head. It made her look a bit like a graceful elf from some fantasy universe. I attached a few optional photos to the application, hoping they would appreciate her stunning beauty as much as I did and send us their best domme.

There sure were some bizarre questions, though. I could understand wanting to know things like breast size and body weight, but first sexual experience? Dental history? They even wanted to know her favourite colour, for goodness' sake. Some were deeply personal questions - which I usually had no trouble answering for her, funnily enough - but others were just random preferences and things that I had no idea about, so just I made up some answers. It was strange that they needed to know so much, but they looked professional enough so I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt.

I paused when I reached the section about personal limits. "What activities, if any, do you NOT enjoy?"

Thinking about it for a moment, I decided I would reserve the pleasure of anal penetration for myself. I also disallowed nipple clamps, since I knew she hated them. She would already hate me enough for hiring the dominatrix in the first place. The textbox now read, "anal contact, nipple torture" and I added "tickling (especially sides and armpits)", knowing Alicia would thank me for it eventually.

Finally, I added in a few details about my dungeon and the equipment I had available. The dominatrix would no doubt bring her own tools of the trade, but I'm sure it would help for her to know just what devious devices I already had set up in my amply-equipped mansion.

Ensuring all Alicia's details were filled in and accurate to my knowledge, I submitted the form and returned to Alicia. I told her we were going to play some games, and she smiled and hopped into the chair I'd had specially built for her. I'd never actually gotten around to telling her just how extensively I'd stalked her before I'd made my move - she probably thought all my equipment was just conveniently snug-fitting, but the reality was that I'd had a long time to tailor everything to her precise measurements. Everything from the neck-length collar she always wore to the dosages of gas in my padded gas chamber were all designed uniquely for her.

It was the time I normally tied her up and exploited her to our mutual pleasure, so she would be expecting nothing less now.

I allowed her to keep her clothes for the time being - it was often more fun to prolong the inevitable reveal of her flawless skin. I strapped her into the chair securely, locking her arms on either side of her. I left her legs held slightly apart by the chair's split leg rests to give me easy access to her succulent pussy. Her metal collar was clipped to the headrest to prevent her from lifting her head.

As I moved, she watched me with a happy smile. Her face was filled with endearing love and a confidence that she could rely on me to keep her safe as she placed her life in my hands. I squirmed guiltily inside, knowing I was about to betray that trust. I could only hope she'd forgive me as she once had for her abduction.

But there was no turning back now. I shoved my conscience aside as my eyes raked her figure lustfully. Her clothes, like everything else, were tailored for her and left little to the imagination. She was wearing a tight blouse with built-in support for her breasts, accentuating her firm bust against the thin material. A skimpy schoolgirl miniskirt sat on her hips, barely covering the chrome finish of her ever-present chastity belt. I only removed her belt every weekend, ensuring she was always as eager as I was to get some sexual pleasure from her suffocated pussy. I swiftly unlocked the clasp now, loosening the belt but leaving it resting around her shapely hips.

Her nipples were my first victims. I slowly unbuttoned her blouse and sucked gently on each one, slipping a finger over her pronounced navel and into her skirt to tease her trembling pussy after its long deprivation. I felt her body shaking as her soft moans filled the room; sweet music to my ears. Soon she was close to climaxing. Her moans intensified, trilling a melodic harmony as I brought her to the edge. Then the doorbell rang.

I stopped and left her stewing at the height of her arousal, ignoring the exasperated groans as I ascended to the front door.

"Hello," I started as I opened the door. The rest of my words caught in my throat as I surveyed the goddess before me. Her natural beauty made her almost as stunning as my wife, and everything about the way she was dressed - if indeed such could be considered clothing - and how she was posed simply emanated femininity.

Stiff crimson leather was moulded to her buxom figure from her barely-covered breasts to her angled hips. Glossy black thigh-length heels glistened brilliantly in the soft dusk, leaving only a narrow strip of smooth skin visible below her bodice. Her skin-tight gloves extended almost to her shoulders and gleamed like polished obsidian, her fingers wrapped confidently around the handle of a long black cane. Assorted belts and buckles encircled each of her legs and her torso liberally with seemingly no purpose beyond aesthetics. And the aesthetic was spectacular - the black belts wrapped tightly around her slim torso stood out in a striking contrast to the deep blood-red leather hugging her waist.

Her wavy black hair hung loose over her bare shoulders, framing her bemused expression. Modest amounts of eye shadow and lip gloss emphasised her dark blue eyes and pale pink lips. My knees buckled slightly as I resisted the urge to kneel in awe of her efficacious presence. She leaned against a wooden post, watching my face with detached amusement.

"I take it you're not my client," she said in a mellow voice, smiling at my speechlessness.

"Uhh... No," I stammered. "Alicia is inside." I gestured nervously for her to enter.

"Excellent," she replied, strolling briskly past me and surveying the foyer as if inspecting a new property she'd just acquired. I glanced around to ensure no one else was there and closed the door, walking over to the side door leading down to the sub-basement. She followed swiftly behind me, her polished heels clacking loudly against the floor. Her provocative attire produced a leathery swishing sound as she moved.

My wife's face brightened when she saw me, but her smile was soon wiped clean again as her new mistress entered the dungeon.

"Gordon," she exclaimed angrily, "what is she doing here?"

My face reddened as I glanced at the dominatrix to see how she would react to the revelation that her client was not a willing participant. Her smile deepened and took on a smug look as if she'd expected this turn of events from the start.

"I am Lady Noir, and it would seem I was led here on false pretences." She turned to me with a stern countenance, melting away my confidence. Then she spun around and approached my restrained wife, leaning in to whisper something into her ear. Alicia's furious expression softened somewhat as she whispered back. I didn't catch any of the exchange, and it was over before I could move closer.

"Sir, you should know that identity theft is a serious offense. My organisation has a strict policy regarding those who sign up on another's behalf." Her polite rebuke stunned me momentarily - "sir" sounded strange coming from her. It also made me pale at the thought of what she'd think of my former profession - I was no stranger to identity fraud, and I mean that with no pun intended. But what was this policy she mentioned? She slipped out of the room momentarily while I was distracted, then returned to continue.

"I must request that you allow me to detain you as per the terms of our arrangement," she commanded firmly. What terms? Surely she can't mean those rubbish terms and conditions that everyone clicks a box to agree to before submitting the web form. No one reads those! My thoughts faded into the background as she strolled towards me and began to pull my hands behind my back. I resisted, twisting around to face her just as she rammed a two-pronged device painfully into my ribs. I recognised it immediately as my taser from the storeroom next door.

A surge of high-voltage electricity tore through my body and I collapsed, limbs twitching uncontrollably.


Part 2 (added: 2013/05/26)

I watched Lady Noir stun my husband with the taser I'd told her about, a broad grin settling on my face. He'd had that coming for a long time. She proceeded to grab some rope from the floor and bind his body together with amazing dexterity. This was a woman who knew her craft. His legs were bound firmly together and his arms folded behind his back and tied to a hook on the ceiling. She left that length of rope slack so she could lift him to his feet when he regained consciousness.

She worked the rope with masterful efficiency, using all sorts of loops and cinches to make the restraints as effective as possible. There was no doubt in my mind that my backstabbing husband wouldn't be able to so much as wriggle without her aid. It made me jealous in a way - sometimes I wished I could tie up my husband with such ease and confidence. Her adept skill certainly put my husband's own rope work to shame.

"Now then," she said, turning back to face me. "We have an appointment to fulfil."

My breath caught in my throat. "But you told me that Gordon is technically your client, since he filled out the form..." I trailed off as I realised with a sickening jolt the trouble I had gotten myself into. I had just assisted this unknown domineering woman in detaining my husband, the only person who might have prevented her from going too far, and now she had free reign over both of us while we were fully restrained and powerless. She'd played us both!

"I only work with female submissives, my dear, and you are just too gorgeous a client for me to pass up." The jubilation I'd felt at our false triumph deserted me. This woman was crazy! Surely she would lose her job if she went through with this.

"I'm not a submissive!" I protested stubbornly. She looked at me with great amusement, clearly holding back a laugh.

"And I suppose you were just locked into this ingenious chair for an evening snooze," she replied, her voice dripping with satire. "You're caught in my web now, darling," she assured me sweetly. "So just accept that you'll remain my plaything until I say otherwise."

And with that she prised open my mouth and propped a large spider gag between my teeth, stretching and holding my mouth wide open with its four curved metal arms gripping the skin around my mouth. She wrapped its straps tightly around my immobilised head, ensuring my gaping mouth was locked open in resemblance of a silent, horrific scream - which, to be honest, wasn't entirely cosmetic. Her latex-clad digits were making me feel like I was in a dentist's chair. I could only hope she wasn't planning to tamper with my precious white teeth.

Within seconds, drool was slipping off my tongue and over my bared chest, making me tremble with humiliation. Every time I tried to twist the firm ring of the gag into a better position, the metal arms dug into my skin and rendered my attempts ineffective. She stuck two rubber fingers into my mouth and scooped out some of my saliva, sucking it off her fingers as if to taste it.

"Mhmm, you have a lovely clean mouth," she informed me in a deliberately seductive tone. I was disgusted. I didn't want this self-indulgent power freak anywhere near me, and especially not sticking her fetish gloves in my mouth.

She started to come onto me - literally, swinging one leg over mine and leaning in. She was going to kiss me! I tried to protest, but my tongue couldn't reach the top of my mouth, so only unintelligible grunts escaped. I shook as violently as I could against the restraints, but I only succeeded in choking myself slightly. Then her tongue was in my open mouth, licking my teeth and rubbing against my own writhing lingua. I wanted to vomit, but I knew I would only choke myself further and anger the tyrannical woman in control.

Our lips locked, and I felt her moist lips sliding over mine. I tasted the sweet strawberry tang of her lip gloss and breathed in an intoxicating aromatic fragrance. Suddenly the tongue didn't seem so bad. I reluctantly began responding to her passion, embracing her tongue with mine as she continued to explore every inch of my mouth.

"Alicia!" Gordon's voice cut through the spell as I realised what I was doing. Lady Noir withdrew from me to face him and I breathed a sigh of relief. Gordon's tone troubled me, though. He sounded like he was appalled at the intimate kiss he'd just seen us engaged in. Isn't this what you wanted, I thought bitterly.

"Nice of you to rejoin us, Mr. Massey," she addressed him casually, dismounting my leg and approaching the corner where he lay. I noticed a slightly damp patch of skin where she'd been perched, and instantly realised two things: she was naked beneath that leather girdle, and she was getting off on this!

She pulled on the support rope with surprising strength, hauling Gordon off the ground. She tied off the excess rope when he was just on tiptoes, his folded arms lifted slightly off his back.

"Yes, I know who you are," she continued. "A man of your wealth is never far from the public eye. I hadn't heard about your lovely new companion, though..." She smiled alluringly at me, making me blush.

"She's my wife," Gordon snapped back.

"Oh, how romantic. And I do thank you for warming her up for me," she said, clearly staring at my stiff nipples, still moist from Gordon's suckling earlier. "Well, I'm sure you won't mind if I continue our arrangement as you intended. You do have prime seating." She laughed to herself, clearly enjoying teasing him. In that position, he really would be wishing for a seat soon. "But I must inform you that I can only abide a silent audience. Any last words, Mr. Massey?"

"I'll see you fired for this..." he muttered angrily.

"Oh, I don't think so. I'm only doing my job as you agreed to it, dear." And with that she took a rubber inflatable gag and popped it into his mouth like a pacifier, swiftly pumping it up until even his moans were stifled. She reached up and stroked his bulging cheek with her lustrous black hand in a mockingly sombre farewell before turning back to me.

"Now, my pet, where were we..." She went to sweep my hair from my face and I recoiled, scrunching up my face. She leaned back, surveying me critically with her dark eyes. "Well, if that's the way you want to play it..."

She glanced over at Gordon, eyeing him up thoughtfully. Strolling over to him, she patted down his sides and located a lump in his pocket. The chair's remote. She yanked it out triumphantly, spinning it around in her hands like a spider with a fly. She pressed a button, and I found my legs lifting up towards my chest. The leg rests continued to ascend until my legs were held vertically in a wide V-shape. Another button press later and my arms were dragged away from my sides and over my head, outstretched above me like a diver.

I endured these mechanical movements uneasily, ever fearful that the chair would stretch me past my limits and leave me in excruciating pain. But if my bondage exploits with Gordon each weekend were good for anything, it was stretching my limits. I found that my new position was more uncomfortable for my mind than for my actual body.

Lady Noir brandished her hard rubber cane, looking sternly at me through the gap between my legs.

"-eashe," I managed, trying to form the word "please" without consonants. But my pleading expression was drowned by her deep, unfathomable blue eyes.

"You may address me as Lady," she admonished. "And don't talk with that gag in, love, you make no sense at all."

She turned her attention away from my face and rapped the sole of my foot with her cane. A shameful squeak escaped my gaping mouth. My face burned as she turned to look at me with that bemused smile she expressed so naturally. Another whip with the cane, in exactly the same spot. This time only a rush of air left my gaping mouth as I gasped heavily.

She continued to hit the same mark with uncanny precision, each sting compounding with the last. I had to keep relaxing my muscles, as with each impact I was clenching my legs involuntarily and they were beginning to cramp. I watched the cane lift and fall onto my foot out of the corner of my eye. With each hit, my hope of escaping this cruel dominatrix was whittled down smaller.

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 stuck in my mouth?

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 - so 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 sole 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 utterly 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 vigourously. 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 may well have been 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 double-headed dildo. With a hopeless resignation I accepted my fate - I knew nothing was going to stop those monstrous shafts from penetrating my precious two 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 rubbed a 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 my emotional panic at the intimate female contact.

"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, smothering my primary oxygen intake. 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. 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 self-deceptive? 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 my holes 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 innocent asshole 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 orifices 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 woman 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, sizable 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 a sentient human 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 only responding 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. I was still very much feeling everything happening to me, though.

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. This was surely 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 away painfully, 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.


Part 3 (added: 2013/06/29)

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 know 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.

I might even take this little encounter to the next level... It was a fair assumption that the affluent recluse lived alone with his pretty girl, and with a kinky secret like this dungeon and the motherload of useful toys next door, it was also unlikely he'd have any sort of hired help. That only left my company, Domme-in-8, privy to my location - but my reverential employees would believe any far-fetched story I told them. Or I could simply leave my clients tied up and return after the session was officially completed. A most tempting prospect indeed...

I looked down at the horny girl I'd been absent-mindedly teasing. The face she held up to me now was simply adorable. She was like a little kitten wanting her chin scratched. I had no intention of indulging her, of course - she had yet to learn of the unadulterated pleasure only a female touch could incite, and for that she had to be completely prepared for the experience.

The chair in which she'd so thoughtfully presented herself to me had served its purpose admirably, but now I needed my delicious pet in a slightly more vulnerable position. The cunningly simple device I had locked her into was perfect for this purpose. It consisted of two 8-shaped sets of metal cuffs joined by a wide leather strap. A thigh and a wrist went through the two holes of each "8" and the strap wrapped taut around behind the victim's back, ensuring their bound limbs were held tightly against their chest but wide enough apart that their breasts were still openly displayed. I'd also secured ankles to thighs and wrists to shoulders just to tie up the loose ends. The end result was that all of the victim's limbs were locked into the same alignment with the restraints resting literally right under their nose. A girl couldn't be more helpless and vulnerable if she was locked naked into a set of wooden stocks.

My sexy victim's nubile form had fit the restraints perfectly. Her legs were folded snugly onto her delicious ass with her fully-bent arms fused to her sides. Her breasts were squeezed between her trembling thighs and her hardened nipples still bore their tight clover clamps proudly, a short chrome chain hanging between them to complete the image of a perfect sex slave. I'd also taken the liberty of padding the wrist cuffs with her tattered miniskirt. It wouldn't do to have my pet chafing her wrists when I moved her into position.

Most importantly, her delectable mound of Venus was framed perfectly by the V of her spread legs. Her flushed vulva hung invitingly from the base of her tightly-packaged form. Soon, I told myself.

My voluptuous plaything was now held in a fairly compact position - any other girl would probably be badly cramping within a minute, but the amply-informative profile Gordon had submitted told me in no uncertain terms that this sexpot was as supple as they come. Just as well, because she'll soon be cumming quite a lot indeed, I thought, smiling at my own pun.

What the profile hadn't mentioned was just how athletic this slim beauty was. Firm cords of muscle ran along her deceptively slender arms, and her sturdy thighs wouldn't look out of place on a professional sprinter. Certainly distinct from my usual types of clients, who were generally the more slothful and self-indulgent sorts of girls. I wondered what kind of 'exercise' she engaged in to stay so fit... In any case, it meant I had to be a bit more careful with her. I could easily overpower or outmanoeuvre most girls if necessary, but this one might present more of a challenge if she put her mind to it. Fortunately, she currently wasn't in any position to resist me.

In fact, the purpose of her current position was to encourage the exact opposite of resistance. The most desirable parts of her delicious body were not only audaciously displayed, they were also openly accessible to any sort of contact I wished. Her sinewy legs were held well out of the way, leaving those blushing orifices extended towards me in a most appealing manner. And of course, any position that draws someone's attention straight to your flushed pussy is an exceedingly humiliating position for any girl, especially one who just wants to crawl away and hide in a dark corner. Unfortunately for that girl, escape was off the menu. But there was a very tempting special in its place: raw pussy.

One last accessory was needed first, though. These particular immobilising restraints also supported an optional leather handle that could be clipped between the two 8-rings, effectively transforming the trussed-up girl into a mass of overweight baggage and making it even more impossible to wriggle free. I really must remember to thank Gordon for supplying me with such excellent equipment. With one hand I could now lift the girl's entire body like a human suitcase: a reification I knew wouldn't be lost on her.

I'd removed her unbuttoned blouse now, too - it was clearly an expensive custom-tailored garment so cutting it hadn't been an option, but moving her arms into different restraints had allowed me to slip the sleeves off safely. Like any competent domina, I understood the importance of appropriate attire - just as I didn't consider myself to be in full domme mode without the empowering sensation of tight latex buckled to my skin, a submissive didn't fully appreciate her place without her whole body bared for all to see and a heavy collar sitting snugly around her neck. My reluctant sub was already sporting a suitable collar, and now the rest of her body bore that universal brand of submission too. Nakedness was more than skin-deep, after all - a sub needed to know that she could keep no secrets from her domme and that any vestigial right to privacy was long abolished.

Now, in order to overload her delightful body with pleasure, I needed to first give her a point of reference. Some less-than-satisfactory pleasure, to say the least - and it couldn't come from me, because that would defeat the purpose. The idea was to show her that the pleasure men reluctantly parted with was vastly inferior to the intense pleasure a woman could happily provide. Her bound and horny husband would be perfect for this demonstration, as he was presumably the person she was most intimate with. As for how to make the experience as uncomfortable as possible... Well, Gordon had already told me in his online profile of her exactly what it was she least enjoyed. How thoughtful of him.

I gathered a few coils of rope from my generous host's storeroom. It was high-quality bondage rope, too; silky smooth to reduce chafing, but also deceptively strong. I used some to secure the girl's handle to a ring conveniently embedded in the ceiling, suspending her in a horizontally reclined position. This left her oral, vaginal, and anal orifices all at a perfect height for convenient thrusting, and by the forlorn expression she shot my way, she knew it perfectly well.

I then took a large tapered chrome hook from the amply-equipped storeroom and lubricated it with some of the continually-replenishing saliva decorating her face. I pushed it gently against my pet's puckered anus, gradually applying more pressure to allow her sphincter to open naturally for me. I ignored her pointless moaning, and soon the widest point of the hook slipped in smoothly to the sound of a sharp gasp and a satisfying jerk as her own body started pulling the tapered section further in. The rest followed effortlessly until the hook nestled comfortably between her firm globes. Her flesh trembled under my hands as it protested at the cold intrusion. I then tied some rope to the end of this hook and pulled it across the underside of her body to connect it to a quick hairtie, wrapping a small loop around her stylised locks to ensure any tugging would be distributed evenly.

"That's a pretty hairstyle you've got there, dear," I informed her. "Trying to impress someone?"

I didn't bother pointing out to her how redundant that would be - an elaborate hairdo was a mark of pride for most girls, and pride meant little when the object of that pride - her body - was under the absolute control of another. My sardonic comment would only serve to remind her exactly how helpless she was, which of course was the reason I had said it. Though it was certainly true that her hair looked strikingly elegant.

Sure enough, her naive expression intensified as she processed my innocent remark. Her eyes widened as she twisted her wrists and flexed her fingers hopelessly. No doubt I'd given her something to think about - she'd probably be trying to reconcile her naturally submissive nature with her self-grooming habits now. I smiled as I pictured the uncertainty that would soon be passing through her mind: Is all the control I have over my life only an illusion?

Her hair was now thoroughly secured, in any case. And more importantly, her head was pulled back just the right amount for some nice inverted fellatio. Not that I enjoyed such an activity myself, but I felt obliged to indulge my beautiful client in the more masculine contact she so obviously craved - if only to demonstrate how inadequate it was. I was also taking a bit of a gamble in deducing she didn't enjoy that kind of sexual activity, but it was an assumption I was fairly confident of; you get rather proficient at reading sexual preferences when you do it for a living.

I gave her nipple clamps a sharp tug to remind her of their presence. When I'd put them on she hadn't exactly been conscious, so I wanted to make sure she felt them now. And judging by her equally sharp glare, she felt them perfectly well. That was good - I didn't want her to think I was getting soft.

As I approached her spectating husband, his eyes met mine and flashed with anger. My, my, quite the temper there. But I didn't need to release him, so I didn't really care what he thought of me.

I loosened the rope around his ankles slightly so he could hobble, and then I grabbed at his crotch - predictable male, always ready with an erection - and pulled his bulging member out of his pants, glad of the latex membrane between my hand and his repulsive organ. I led him over to his wife by keeping a firm grip on his trapped testicles, forcing him to stumble across the room clumsily. Then I persuasively encouraged him to use her proffered hole, pressing on the small of his back until his manhood made contact with the ample-sized orifice held conveniently open by a large metal ring.

His unbridled lust took over then - even without appropriate footing or hands to steady himself, he was off thrusting into the girl's waiting mouth like there was no tomorrow. Either this was an activity they both frequently enjoyed, or her dearly devoted husband had some repressed desires he had never dared to reveal before now. A single glance at her face told me it was certainly not the former - my pet had her eyes scrunched up in silent agony as her incoherent vocals were utterly stifled by the mass of flesh pounding down her throat. I watched her throat constrict repeatedly as she struggled not to choke from the violation.

And there was no doubt she saw the act as a complete violation - her eyes, when they did strain open from time to time, glowered with a furious disapproval at her husband's ruthless objectification of her chiselled face as just another hole to fuck. It was all too clear that that particular orifice was absolutely off-limits in their private sex life. If not for the strong metal ring holding her clenched jaw apart, the fleshy shaft would probably be mashed to a pulp before she even spared a thought for who it belonged to.

I knew then that she was ready for some true pleasure, so I pulled the over-enthusiastic male out of her helpless orifice before he had a chance to get too excited. With her head pulled back as it was, his load would shoot straight down her throat - and with her lack of oral experience some of it might even get into her windpipe, which could be disastrous. Far better that I might be seen as her saviour, rescuing her from having to swallow those vile fluids.

The sweaty male breathed heavily and wriggled frantically as I dragged him back to his corner, hooking him back up in his partial suspension so that he faced the corner this time. Naughty boys deserve punishment, after all. And as far as I was concerned, all boys were naughty.

Turning my undivided attention back to my irresistible plaything, I smeared some of her own love nectar on my clean hand and offered it to her as a means of cleansing her mouth of that distasteful male taint. She seemed to accept it gracefully, stretching out her tongue to partake of the poignant musk.

Now she was ready. I spun her slowly around until her neglected cherry faced me, leaving her in the ideal position for some passionate stimulation of that most sensitive erogenous region. Her silky hair was still pulled back tightly by the anal hook, forcing her to look up and ensuring she couldn't see what I was doing. All the better - the sensations would be all the more powerful if she was ignorant of my advances.

I traced my glossy hands down her sides from underneath, gently caressing her flawless skin. I continued downwards across her glowing cheeks, lightly tracing the crevice splitting her two warm buns. I pressed briefly against the metal hook, now thoroughly wedged into the crack from her former struggles and effectively glued there with sweat. I traced the perfectly circular lip of her stretched sphincter muscle, smiling as it visibly contracted and relaxed under my touch. Finally I reached her most precious treasure, partially concealed by the rosy lips of her labia. I parted these lips gently, hearing a sensual moan from above me as my breath washed over the newly-exposed folds of sensitive female flesh.

Getting down on my knees, I put my own lips softly to her love mound and parted her pert pussy lips with my tongue as I began to slowly explore the bountiful folds of her inner sanctum.

The effect was immediate. Her nubile body purred to life under my wet probe, fuelled by the unparalleled pleasure of an intimate female touch. Or perhaps she was struggling to escape that touch - it was all the same to me. Her breath came out in ragged gasps above me, spurring me on. I breathed in deeply, revelling in the warm radiance of her juicy aroma.

I continued my tactual investigation of the voluminous folds of her succulent pussy, slowly working my way deeper into the core of her womanhood. Soon my glossy lips were flush with her ruby-red labia, the inner curve of my Cupid's bow forming an arc beneath the deceptively insignificant nub of her clitoris. I flexed my experienced tongue inside her, spiralling around the inner walls of her vaginal orifice, finishing after several revolutions just below her G-spot.

In a single fluid motion I pressed my tongue into that highly-sensitive dimple just as I slipped my upper lip onto her love bud, firmly stimulating both erogenous spots with unrelenting vigour.

Within moments I was rewarded with a surge of milky juices gushing straight into my greedy mouth. The flow ebbed away after a few seconds as cries of pleasure turned to heavy gasps... but I wasn't satisfied yet.

While I continued assaulting the euphoric girl's crotch with my practised mouth, I reached up over her navel with both hands and took a firm hold of her trapped breasts. The nipple clamps were still holding strong - I would have to add some weights to give her a chance of shaking them off. For now I just prodded her squashed nipples gently, feeling proud of my sub when I got no reaction.

Extreme sexual arousal has the fascinating effect of negating all sensation of pain - in fact, any such stimuli would only serve to prolong the sub's state of sensorial detachment. A less disciplined domme might take advantage of this masochistic feedback loop, but it was my strict custom to tailor my services to each sub; to handle each sub as ethically as possible, if indeed the term 'ethical' could be applied at all to my work. I knew this girl was no pain slut, and while she might not feel any pain in her current state, she would certainly feel it later.

My earlier bout of corporal punishment had been just that - punishment, with the added bonus of striking a healthy dose of fear into her, simultaneously lowering her expectations for the pleasure I was now delivering. I had, perhaps, been a bit harsher than necessary - it would now take the bright red stripes on the girl's otherwise flawless skin a few days to heal instead of just hours - but I had also wanted to ensure she would be unable to run after me should I choose to end our session and bid her farewell. I may decide to leave her untied, after all, and impairing her movement is a crude but effective way of ensuring she can't take immediate revenge against me for any perceived injustice. Or maybe the revenge she seeks will be against her disloyal husband? Of course, if all goes well I will depart to a begrudging confession of her gratitude for the whole experience, but a lady's always got to have a plan B.

So while I massaged her clinched breasts firmly, I did so with the sole intention of enhancing her sexual pleasure. The increased pressure on her crushed nipples might cause a moderate amount of pain under more ordinary circumstances, but in her current state the harsh stimulation would also bestow a substantial amount of sexual pleasure. Indeed, there was a fine line between sexual torture and sadism - a line I greatly enjoyed testing with each sub - but once that line was established, it was my professional responsibility to take on the challenge of adhering to it.

I lowered my eyelids in satisfaction as I felt my pet's loins trembling from another approaching climax. Ah, it was always an absolute delight to deprive a girl of her perceived self-restraint. Because for some unfathomable reason, my clients always believed they could control their own orgasms, and that any forced climax was a humiliating failure on the part of their own sexual restraint. Of course, I was more than happy to let them believe such a ridiculous misconception. They invariably discovered in their own time that their sexual release was entirely in my hands - or mouth, as the case may be. It was simply another level of dominance to assert: demonstrating my power to both grant and deny them pleasure irrespective of their own desires.

And yet the most destructive revelation my clients experience is that there does actually have to be some degree of voluntary submission on their part. In truth, stimulation alone can't elicit an orgasmic response without at least a hint of arousal from the submissive. Usually stimulation causes arousal - but arousal itself actually comes from the mind, not that anyone has the willpower to resist it. This is what breaks unwilling subs - the realisation that on some level they're genuinely enjoying themselves, and that it's because of their own submissive nature.

As far as I was concerned, however, such arousal was assured from the moment they laid eyes on me. On the off chance a light tickling of a girl's sweet spots wasn't enough to put them in their horny place, everything about the way I presented myself - the tight one-piece bodice; the gleaming latex that cleaved to my skin; the soft makeup and unsettlingly confident smile - was intended to arouse. Even the torturous foreplay helped in this regard, lowering my sub's defences for when the real assault began: the assault on their very will. It was overkill, really - I'd never known anyone who wasn't at least a little aroused by an enthralling seductress and a tangle of kinky femdom. By then their fate was sealed. Straight girls invariably took the longest to come around, but sooner or later, everyone degenerates into a submissive slave screaming for sexual release. Which I happily provide, knowing my job is complete.

Alicia was just learning this lesson now, whether she had realised it yet or not. Her gasps had turned to indignant moans, clearly protesting at the continued stimulation of her raw pussy. She may well have experienced consecutive orgasms before, but I had a feeling she wasn't used to ones quite as exhausting as these. It was her lucky day, then: she was going where no man had gone before.

A few seconds later and her futile protests were drowned out by her own moans of pleasure as she entered the throes of another orgasm. Screams erupted shamelessly from her gaping mouth, wild and raw as she went through a sort of animalistic frenzy. It was, in more than one way, quite a resounding success for my efforts. More tangy fluids jetted into my mouth - this girl was quite the cum fountain! I swallowed every drop, filling me with a warm tingling sensation. It was clear that the innocent beauty moaning deliriously as my tongue penetrated her core had kept herself in remarkable condition - her cream was utterly pure, unadulterated by unseemly vices such as narcotics or tobacco. I could always taste the taint of such substances; the body never lies.

As her spasms of pleasure faded away once more, I persisted in my torturous stimulation. My job wasn't done until she'd had her fill of pleasure and then some. After all, if I stopped when she'd had enough, she might start forgetting who's in charge here. Such mercies were given by spouses and partners, not seasoned professionals.

Her struggles now were no longer of defiance nor pleasure, but of desperation. I was slightly surprised - I thought a girl of her stamina would have lasted longer than just two climaxes. But as I was currently demonstrating for her, orgasms granted by a fellow member of the fairer sex are immeasurably more intense than any other.

Well, if this was to be her crowning climax, a slight repositioning was in order to make her more responsive to my efforts. I granted her a precious respite for now and jiggled my tongue out of her delicate hole. I wanted her bound in a Y-shaped suspension, so I had to move fast if I wanted her to stay nice and tender for me.

Staying out of her limited field of view, I unshackled her metal cuffs quickly, her arms and legs practically bouncing off her torso from the tension with which they'd been bound. The 8-shaped rings clattered to the stone floor loudly. She was now suspended with her frogtied limbs hanging limply from my rope - I doubted she be able to muster the strength to resist me at this point even if she wanted to, and she'd only be able to flop about like a fish anyway. But hopefully she wasn't still harbouring resentment for my services.

I lowered her to the ground gently and tucked my folded legs beneath her body as I flipped her over. My bare ass was now resting lightly on hers, and my glossy thighs surrounded her waist to prevent both movement and her clamped nipples from pressing painfully into the unforgiving stone floor. Her head was still arched back with her hair hooked tightly into her rear hole, the silky rope running between our two posteriors and up the smooth furrow of her spine.

I grabbed her arms with enough force to discourage any resistance and untied the loops of rope holding wrists to shoulders. I then stretched her arms out straight to her sides, relieving any potentially cramped muscles before repositioning them over her back for a firm box tie. I stopped her elbows from slipping out sideways with my knees as I worked, keeping one hand on her forearms to ensure she couldn't slip them over my knees to her front and thus gain leverage. Soon her forearms were fused together with my constrictive rope, and her upper arms were held in a tight frame to prevent her from wriggling out of the tie. The rope also incorporated her hair tie into the mix, resulting in a mass of entwining rope resting on her upper back. There were also ropes passing above and below her sizeable bust, and I intended to take advantage of those shortly. As I sat there finishing off the ties, she wriggled experimentally to test their effectiveness. Interesting... She seems to be allowing me to restrain her. Perhaps this girl's sexuality will be easier to corrupt than I thought.

Her arms now dealt with, I spun around and turned my attention to her frogtied legs. If I untied these, there would be nothing stopping her from kicking back and twisting free - and with her thighs sporting such well-toned muscles, I had little doubt she could pull it off. But her legs would need to support most of her weight, so it was actually convenient that she'd kept in such good physical shape. I tied three loops around and through each folded leg, leaving ropes trailing from the inside of her thighs to tie to the ceiling shortly. I also retrieved a small spreader bar and tied it between her knees, ensuring her delicate flower would never be hidden from me.

Finally, I fed the loose ropes through appropriate rings on the ceiling and pulled the whimpering girl back into the air. She'd been very cooperative, so I decided to release her hair from the elaborate network of rope spanning her back, retying the rope from the ass hook into the box tie instead. She flexed her neck and murmured appreciatively.

"I always reward good behaviour," I murmured back, sensually caressing her sides with my darkly glistening hands.

With her breasts now conveniently bobbing upside-down in front of me, I decided to give them a bit of extra rope support. I attached a new piece of folded rope to the strands above and below her magnificent breasts and pulled the loop tighter, bringing the ropes together and pushing her bust out attractively. I then wound each end of the rope around the base of each breast, moulding them into perfectly circular globes that stood proudly from her chest.

I then found some heavy spherical weights and began to clip them to the middle of the chain connecting her clamped nipples. She whimpered softly as she watched and felt what I was doing.

"Hush, girl. These will let you shake off those clamps that have been torturing you so long." I was supporting the weights in my hand as I said this, so I slowly lowered them to let the leaden spheres hang freely. My pet's plump orbs were stretched unnaturally downwards, her flushed countenance bracing against the pain with scrunched eyelids. When she reopened her eyes, the aggravating weights were gently swaying in the centre of her vision, serving as a constant reminder of the cruel nipple clamps. But she would appreciate the purpose of the weights soon, and then she might even thank me for the mercy. Perhaps.

"Oh, but you've probably never had the pleasure of using these special clamps before, have you? Allow me to explain the ingenious nipple clamp design which you are sporting so adorably," I said softly, my lips hovering over one of the cute little nipples in question. The tiny ultra-sensitive hairs of her areola would amplify the sensation of my warm breath washing over her nude body and drive my next words home all the more.

"These particular clamps are designed, quite simply, to stay put. Unlike traditional clamps that could be tugged off with ease, these marvellous beauties translate all those little incidental tugs directly into their gripping pressure. So you don't need to worry about them slipping off accidentally, my pet. They will eventually release those pink buds of yours with enough encouragement, of course, but not without providing a fitting challenge for my tireless plaything, hmm? Butterfly clamps, they're called. A lovely name for a wonderful invention, don't you think?"

Alicia had hung listening to my brief explanation in silence, but now she began wriggling frantically to be free of the cold merciless teeth biting her stiff nipples. At least she got the message - this was one release she would have to work hard for. But I couldn't help but think how her struggles resembled a timid girl's more than a violated wife's. That was definitely a good thing: it meant she was willingly playing along with me now, even if she didn't realise it yet.

I adjusted her height one final time so that her flushed crotch hung just below eye level. My adorable plaything now hung before me with her nude form displayed in a perfect Y-shape, the symmetry broken only by her frantic yet ineffective struggles. Her powerful legs were rendered useless by the numerous loops of rope that used her own weight to fuse her ankles to her lovely thighs. Her well-defined thigh muscles bulged out around the ropes as they strained to support the rest of her suspended body. Her arms were folded snugly behind her back and held securely in place with ample amounts of rope, and a single pesky strand ran up her back and disappeared into the crack where a tapered metal fishhook dug deeper into her little hole with every twitch. Her well-endowed bosom protruded majestically from its silky rope prison with the large weighted clover clamps biting her proud nipples greedily. But of all of these enticing enhancements, the most entrancing feature was the girl's face. Her piercing green eyes followed mine uneasily, widened with the fearful knowledge that her current predicament could become much worse at any moment if I but desired it to be so.

The girl is learning, I thought with great satisfaction. I'll make a pleading slut out of that pretty face yet. And whenever I succeed in breaking a girl's very sexuality in the space of a few hours, I generally see fit to reward myself appropriately. Few girls escaped the privilege of being buried between my legs.

But luckily for this girl, I could also make her predicament much better. I gazed hungrily at the invitingly moist lips of her tender pussy, suspended at just the perfect height for a good workout. I smiled and got back to work.

My mind was hazy as if in a dream. The sensations I was feeling were surreal, sending endless waves of pleasure to my clouded mind. I heard my moans echo endlessly around my head; incoherent moans of sensual bliss, an occasional fragment discernible amongst the cacophony: Aaahhh, yesssss, ooohhh yes...

I despised myself for responding like such a slut, but at the same time I couldn't stop myself from submitting to the overwhelming pleasure. It was just... too good... to resist. Why even consider such a thing? Why deny myself this pleasure? I could think of no reason.

With my neck clenched against the blood rushing into my head, my thick collar had grown uncomfortably tight, almost choking off my oxygen supply completely. I sucked in more air, feeling it whistle down my throat just before I needed to exhale again. My whole body felt like it was burning, and even the lightest touch sent tremors up my spine. Drool dribbled up into my hair, cooling my flushed cheeks and forehead as it passed. I had my eyes closed - my eyelids too were wet with the continual stream of saliva from my gaping mouth.

I knew I was hanging upside-down - even with my eyes firmly closed, I could sense gravity constantly shifting as I swung idly from side to side. And I knew my arms were somehow bound behind my back such that even my most fervent struggles found no give in the bonds. The natural crossed-arms position was as comfortable as I could have hoped for, but still I was frustratingly denied any movement in my flexible limbs. I knew my resultant posture was also thrusting my poor breasts out before me, their humiliating prominence even further exaggerated by the cords squeezing their bases tightly. I probably looked more like a flat-chested girl with apples glued to her chest than a respectable young woman with a lofty bust. I could also feel my erect nipples bent painfully towards my head, and there was no mistaking the uncomfortable fullness of an intruder in my anal cavity. I even deduced that my folded legs, held wide apart at the knees, were responsible for supporting my whole weight - though the spreader bar meant that most of the strain was actually on my inner thigh muscles, which in turn put a lot of tension on my twitching groin muscles.

But what I couldn't figure out was what was actually stimulating my tense crotch. I'd tried to look down at my nether region when I was furled up in that humiliating suitcase position, but every attempt had only pulled uncomfortably on my hair and the foreign object nestled in my rear. I'd been forced to scrutinise the corner of the ceiling while my pussy had been relentlessly exploited to yield pleasure beyond anything I'd ever dreamed of.

I wanted to know exactly what heavenly stimulant was responsible for such bliss. Mercifully, I could finally move my head about freely - but I couldn't seem to find the strength to lift my chest upwards and get a look at the device. Whatever it was, its luxuriously soft yet surprisingly firm motions were just perfect for soothing my tense groin muscles. It seemed to press against all of my most sensitive nerve endings at the same time, delivering pleasure I didn't think humanly possible until now. The relentless onslaught of sexual stimulation was almost painful. Almost.

But where was Lady Noir in all of this? It wasn't like her to leave me helpless under the spell of such wonderful treatment. I was sure she must be off to the side somewhere, picking out her next torture implement with which to laugh and tease me while she had her way with my abused body. Then suddenly I felt her glossy hands smothering my navel, slick with some warm fluid that at this point could have been from any number of holes across my body - every one of them seemed to be leaking with some form of liquid or lubricant. I was sopping wet with so many different bodily fluids that I didn't even know which were mine anymore. Or were they all mine?

My moans intensified as I grew apprehensive of the cruel dominatrix. I didn't want her to ruin this for me! I was finally getting something good out of this horrid affair, and I just knew she would drag me away from this moment kicking and screaming - she'd probably even enjoy it.

I began wriggling frantically side to side, but for all the fight in me I felt as helpless as a cocooned caterpillar - except I didn't even have the security of a hardened prison to protect me from the cruel outside world. And my gentle swaying only succeeded in making the lead weights tug painfully on my chained nipples. Yet I stubbornly persisted, working up momentum as I became increasingly hot-headed from the inverted suspension. Lady's smooth ebony palms continued to glide across my body, gently caressing my bare navel and hips. Her hands sent tremors through my helpless form as they ran across my ticklish sides. I half-expected her to start pinching my crushed areolas or ramming another intruder into my exposed ass at any moment, but to my surprise she seemed content to continue massaging my nude form in a most soothing fashion.

"Now now, you don't want to hurt yourself, my dear," she purred, her arms enveloping me as she added, "Only I can do that."

I suddenly had this uncanny feeling that she was actually contributing to the momentum of my rhythmic swinging. Yes, even when I ceased my own efforts, I kept swinging in a larger and larger arc over the frighteningly close stone floor. My nipples surely couldn't handle much more of this - I was terrified that they would be ripped off any second now! I frantically tried countering my lilting motion in a desperate attempt to ease the tugs on my clamped nipples, but my efforts were meaningless under Lady's forceful manipulation.

With two painful tearing sensations and some loud thuds, the clamps themselves were torn off my bouncing orbs and they fell to the floor in a small heap. It took me a moment to realise my nipples were still attached to my body - such was the absolute pain that continued to assault them even after the culprits were torn off.

Glossy fingers slithered in for the kill, groping my bulbous globes as an over-abundance of blood rushed into the compressed tissue. I groaned at the humiliating intimacy, but soon appreciated the experienced domme's benevolence as her massage eased the harrowing process of returning the circulation in my innocent nipples. My breasts still protruded like melons and undoubtedly made me look the picture of a complete slut, but with my nipples freed I could almost enjoy the sexy feeling of ropes supporting my proud assets.

My Lady continued to rub my sensitive areolas, but now her touch produced a very different sensation. It seemed absurd that just tweaking my sore nipples softly could induce such strong sexual excitement, yet that's exactly what was happening. As the blissful stimulation up in my nether regions resumed and my simmering arousal abruptly intensified, I decided I could stand the mystery no longer. I clenched my abdominal muscles and heaved my upper body up until it was horizontal, carefully keeping my neck straight so my hair wouldn't be yanked back painfully. I froze for an instant as I saw the 'device' pressed into my sensitive pussy, then my muscles gave up and I collapsed backwards once more.

It was none other than Lady Noir herself, shamelessly exploiting my sexual vulnerability with her mouth. I was mortified - another woman was ravishing my privates with her mouth, and I'd been enjoying it! Her deep blue eyes had briefly locked with mine, her smug satisfaction clearly evident in both her piercing gaze and the utter confidence with which she repeatedly rolled her moist lips over my slit and flexed her tongue within my soft pussy. The woman somehow exerted an aura of power and authority even as she serviced my shamefully voracious libido. Her technique was even as stylish as it was functional - she made the perverted deed look as enticing as licking an icecream.

How could I not have realised what she was doing to my own crotch? I'd had cunnilingus performed on me before, but Gordon's technique - if indeed there was a technique - left much to be desired. What this impudent dominatrix was doing... It didn't even feel like a mouth. She worked her powerful tongue like a plunger, using her gleaming lips to create a firm seal around my tender orifice that allowed her to shift the very air inside the cavity, exerting pressure against all sides of my receptive vaginal walls while simultaneously applying the greatest force against my sensitive G-spot. The only external evidence of this vaginal pumping was the rhythmic oscillation of her flawless cheeks as her tongue shifted inside me.

Of course, I could feel every tingling detail of this now that I knew exactly how she was stimulating me. The newfound knowledge humiliated me to the core - I was getting horny off a complete stranger licking my genitals. Even worse, I was about to climax and squirt into that woman's exploitive mouth. I squirmed defiantly, trying to break the perverse seal over my precious love mound, but she simply slipped those lustrous ebony arms around my tensed sides and held me securely under the influence of her violative mouth.

I squirmed even more vigourously, but her slim arms had the advantage over my free-hanging form, rendering my struggles moot. Her slick latex garb seemed to be pressing in on me from all sides now. Cold metal buckles pressed against my back and arms, pinning my body between her crimson bodice and the slender latex-clad arms folded around my abdomen. I couldn't so much as wriggle in her enveloping hold.

A bittersweet aroma wafted past my nose, and I twisted my head around to see the narrow strip of Lady's bare thigh. I could just make out a slight gleam in the dark recesses of the stiff bodice, betraying her own arousal. It's her scent I'm breathing, I realised, at the same time thinking how teasingly enticing the aroma was. Or was I just delirious from lack of sustenance?

Having exhausted all avenues of resistance - and having thoroughly exhausted myself, as well - I finally began to face the reality of my situation. There was no denying that I was enjoying this perversity to some degree. But what degree was that? How far was I willing to take that acceptance? What was wrong with making the best out of this humiliating predicament that I was utterly powerless to escape, anyway?

As that last thought lingered in my mind, my body burned with a powerful climax. A warm gush of viscous fluid erupted from the base of my spread thighs only to be fully contained by the woman's unyielding oral cavity. I felt the bulk of my discharge hit something inside her mouth before splashing back down onto my spent pussy. Then for the first time in what felt like hours, Lady Noir withdrew her pliant tongue from my orifice, wiping my crotch clean with her lips as she slipped away. I could see now her in my head, slowly licking the milky ejaculate from her glossy lips in a deliberately sensualised fashion.

Then, nothing. I continued hanging like a hunk of meat, swaying slightly from the violent heaving of my chest as I gasped for air. My semi-detached breasts bounced up and down independently in their firm rope holsters. Sweat flowed freely from my pores, streaking down towards my flushed face but snagging on my collar. My vision was now blotchy from my prolonged inversion, but I couldn't see any movement around me. Once more, I could only hope that Lady Noir would soon tire of leaving me hanging. The suspension was quite literally killing me, slowly but surely. The most worrying thing was the odd sense of euphoria and weightlessness I was experiencing. It was quite pleasant, as if I was drifting through a dream world, but part of me was aware of the intangible danger my predicament presented.

I felt a padded sling of some sort slip around the back of my neck, two ropes extending upwards on either side. These quickly drew taut, pulling my neck and upper body forwards until I lay horizontally facing the ceiling.

I could now see the full extent of the ropes supporting my body. They formed a perfectly symmetrical web of silky cords around my thighs and heaving chest. If it wasn't my body they were restricting, I might even see the skilful arrangement of ropes as a work of art. As it was, I couldn't deny the absolute totality of Lady Noir's dominance. She was actually toying with me - that much was clear now. But I couldn't fathom why she had suddenly treated me to such pleasure - I'd never even imagined such an intense climax was possible without having my pussy filled with a man's erect member. I felt like I should express my appreciation somehow, but of course I was still utterly unable of doing anything beyond squirming uncomfortably.

As if reading my mind, she lowered me down slightly so that I lay just below the revealingly short hem of her crimson corset. Underneath, there was no mistaking the soft glint of arousal as she turned and stood directly over me, my head between her parted legs. I swallowed nervously. I did wish to thank my lavish Lady somehow, but direct reciprocation of her intimate service was a whole other ball game - one that didn't even involve any balls. Yet I knew all too well there was no point in rebelling, and if nothing else it was just another life experience I could move on from once it was over.

My Lady leaned down, directing a pleasant smile at my upturned face. "Don't bite," she whispered, then slipped her glossy obsidian hands past my head and unfastened the imposing spider gag. The devilish little ring that had locked my mouth ajar for so long and brought me endless frustration suddenly crumpled to the floor with infuriating ease. I flexed my jaw in every direction, licking up all the drool spread across my face that I could reach. A subtle nagging feeling racked me, as if something important was amiss with my body. It took me a second to realise that it was my mouth, feeling strangely empty without the ring's reassuring support. My face burned with shame. That gag had been in place far too long.

But I had no time to reassert control over my vocal facilities, as Lady Noir straddled my liberated orifice without pause, clamping my suspended head between her smooth ivory thighs and shrouding my face in the crimson darkness of her stiff leather garment. At first I nearly choked - nothing could have prepared me for the overwhelming aroma that came with having my head buried in another woman's crotch. The only reference point I had was when she'd force-fed me my own juices, but I realised now that that weak sample was nothing compared to the source.

A sickly sweet odour swiftly engulfed me, washing away all residual prejudice from years of telling myself that only males could provide complete sexual satisfaction. Her own genitalia were already slick with arousal, so I had no trouble slipping my tongue around in her juices. And as novel as this whole experience was to me, I couldn't help but delight in my tongue's long-awaited freedom by stretching it within her as far as I could reach.

Her legs quivered on either side of me, which I interpreted as a sign of encouragement. Then she reached down and clamped my nostrils shut with her fingers, triggering a surge of adrenaline through me as I struggled and gasped for air. But there was no escape from the vixen's clutches, and the only air I could suck into my mouth came thick with the scent of arousal - the more I breathed, the more intoxicating the aroma became. I was forced to quicken my intakes to get the oxygen I needed, which of course had the inevitable side-effect of stimulating the domina's pussy all the more intensely.

It didn't help that my throat was parched from dehydration - I'd had more squirting orgasms drawn out of my pussy than I could remember, and no water all day to replenish my bodily fluids. Having this moist crotch within reach of my tongue... To my shame, the prospect of quenching my burning throat overruled any inhibitions I may have had about swallowing this woman's juices.

After about a minute of this cruel breath play, my Lady's sheath clenched around my tongue as I heard her breath quicken and intensify. Before I knew what was happening, I was thrown back into the illuminated dungeon, my tongue still sticking out where her crotch had rested moments before. With my face shining from another woman's juices, I could only imagine how much I resembled a shameless slut at that moment.

Then she lowered me to the floor gently and knelt beside me. "Well, my dear, I hope you've enjoyed our time together. I know I have. But I'm afraid it's time for me to return you to your husband." A knowing wink followed this statement.

My mouth hung open as I stared back at her. Or, more precisely, her shiny knees which sat in front of my vision. The black latex stretched over her bent legs formed a soft mirrored surface, reflecting a light silvery sheen from the walls of the dungeon. I could also make out my own despondent face looking back at me, looking every bit like the image I'd had in my head.

She picked up the chrome nipple chain from the floor and attached one end to my collar. Then she lowered me to the floor gently and picked up my helpless bound form, carrying me back to the chair I had begun on so long ago. She sat me on my frogtied legs and clipped the other end of the decorative chain to the chair's headrest, ensuring I couldn't move my head more than a foot from the chair. The nipple chain wasn't particularly strong, but I wasn't going to be able to break it with my neck any time soon. I was just happy to finally be in an upright position again - I felt a slight tingling as blood drained from my face and sensation was restored to my bound limbs.

I endured through all this passively, now well-used to being manhandled like a piece of furniture. Lady Noir cupped one of my accentuated breasts in her gloved hand, brushing my nipple gently.

"It's been a pleasure working with you," she mouthed slowly, "And your stunning body too." I blushed, suddenly feeling as uncomfortable as if I was on a first date.

She moved her hand down to my parted legs, flicking my engorged labia and smiling as I flinched.

"I do hope you remember what you experienced today." She transformed her hand into a claw-like grip, slipping two fingers inside me as her thumb rested against my clitoral nub. With my mouth still prised open, there was no concealing my gasp of pleasure as she teased my two most sensitive erogenous spots.

"And of course," she continued, drawing closer until her face was barely an inch from mine, "you're welcome to sneak away with me any time you like." As if to emphasise this point, she engaged in a passionate liplock with my open mouth, only pulling away once her tongue had brushed against every side of mine.

She picked up my abandoned blouse from the floor and draped it around my shoulders. It was a small gesture, but I couldn't shake the feeling of how redundant it was. Here I was, hair tousled, wide-eyed, skin glowing from physical exertion, limbs trussed up and breasts thrust outwards from the rope - the picture of a spent submissive. The blouse itself was already sticking to my skin with sweat in some places - I just felt like the purpose of clothes was so irrelevant at this point. It was like locking a vault that had just been robbed bare - after all the ways this dominatrix had exploited my naked body, the innocent act of re-clothing me just felt like a mockery of my long-abolished rights to privacy. Looking at her confident smile as she pulled the garment over me, my skin still sweaty from the countless orgasms, I wouldn't have been surprised if she understood exactly what her action signified.

Then she reached beneath my blouse and behind my back, and within a few seconds my arms fell loose to my sides. She darted backwards and smiled alluringly before retrieving her signature black cane and strolling out of the room. I just sat there, stunned that it was finally over. I could scarcely believe that my arms were mine to control again - I wriggled my fingers in front of me just to test everything still worked.

I cocked my head and listened as the clacking of her heels gradually faded away to nothing, followed by a low rumble as her vehicle roared to life. So it was really over, then. I sighed as I tried to get my jaw working properly again. I suddenly realised I wouldn't have minded if she'd stayed a bit longer - her presence had become quite enjoyable towards the end.

I glanced down at my long thighs, shifting uncomfortably from the tension in my knees at having my legs completely folded for so long. To my surprise, each loop holding my thighs to my calves could be released with a single tug. I marvelled at the ease with which each of my restraints could be removed, remembering exactly how inescapable they had seemed just minutes earlier. Even the ropes encircling my breasts and chest fell lose without trouble. I massaged the base of each breast slowly, pleased with the familiar presence they had on my chest once more.

So, first things first. Lock the front door. As glad as I was that Lady Noir had finally departed, I wasn't about to risk her strolling back in any time soon. But she had left me in a rather advantageous position. I could now free myself with ease, whereas my husband... Well, I think he deserved to stay in that corner for a bit longer yet. Maybe I'd hire a dom of my own and see how he enjoyed it... But after seeing a professional dominatrix in action, I also had some ideas of my own that my husband would make a perfect test subject for. In any case, I needed a shower first. The state of my body was simply shameful.

I was still vaguely aware of an unresolved issue in the back of my mind - I'd just been utterly dominated by a sexy lesbian and still felt somewhat guilty about enjoying it in the end. But that issue could stay in the back of my mind, for all I cared - it wasn't worth the trouble of resolving. I might need a bit more evidence of my newfound sexual attraction before believing it, however - Lady Noir's parting offer was a rather enticing one indeed as far as that was concerned.

Thinking about it, the bondage itself had never really perturbed me. I'd been in plenty of vulnerable predicaments under my husband's lustful hand, some far exceeding the most extreme position I had experienced today. Looking back, the most terrifying part had always been Lady Noir herself. Not knowing what depravities her devious mind would subject me to next never failed to fill me with fear, even thinking back on it now. It felt silly really, being so intimidated by a slim dark-haired beauty in black and crimson leather, but remembering the absolute power she'd held over me still caused me to tremble. It did bring me a small sense of pride, however, knowing what I had endured. I began to wonder what other challenges I could set myself...

Letting the spoiled blouse slip from my shoulders, I slipped off the chair and gasped as my feet made contact with the cold stone floor. Having to support my own weight for the first time in hours, I realised just how painful my feet were when pressure was applied to them.

I also noticed there was still rope trailing from my between my legs. I followed the silky cord with my fingers, discovering the tapered chrome hook still buried in my rear. I'd become so accustomed to its presence that I'd forgotten it was even there. I squatted down to slide the object out slowly, goosebumps springing up across my body as the large invader was drawn out from its home. My sphincter snapped shut as the metal clattered to the ground, a dissatisfying itch persisting in my liberated anal cavity.

Doing my best to ignore the discomfort I felt with every movement, I hobbled up the steps from the dungeon and made a beeline for the front door. Once it was locked, I turned and leaned against it, releasing a breath I hadn't been aware of holding. I realised I was still stark naked save for my skintight collar, and my hands jumped up instinctively before I remembered there was no one around. Debased as I had been, there was little point to protecting my dignity now, anyway.

It had been an exhaustingly long day, but there was still a lot to do before darkness fell...