Caught in the Web
The Ache of Longing: A Sequel
Don Julian Winslow
*
Sheila Goode was caught; she knew it. She agonized over it, fighting to keep her sanity, to resist that growing power that threatened to overwhelm her. But deep down, she knew... there was no escape. One day she would be called, and of course, she would go. What choice did she have? By now she needed it; craved it with a throbbing ache of desire, had to have it: the secret thrill, the ultimate ecstasy of total submission - placed on her knees by her imperious mistress.
About a month had gone by: days of agonizing confusion, and hot sweaty nights of incredible longing. All the while she walked around as in a dream. She couldn't work; hopelessly distracted, her thoughts kept going back, at the most inopportune times, to dwell on Nadine's booted figure: the black hair so tightly pulled back from a face hard and unyielding, a lean body so breathtakingly majestic in those sleek boots as the dark-haired woman strode back and forth across the starkly modern apartment, ignoring her while Shelia was forced to wait, tingling with anticipation... on her knees.
The day finally came when Sheila received the e-mail she so desperately wanted. Her nervous fingers flew over the keyboard. This was it: the summons that would call her back!
The e-mail simply set a date and time. She knew she was expected to be there, to report for punishment. A deep shiver ran through Sheila, as she took in those few words. Sitting there alone, staring at the message on her phone she knew in her heart of hearts, that she should ignore the command and simply delete the message, and yet she could do neither. She knew there was really no choice.
***
It came to her, in a rush of intense longing when the door opened to reveal her remote Mistress of Discipline dramatically clad in her "playsuit." Shelia was in awe of Nadine's commanding look, the pale skin, the black hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her narrow torso was encased in a tightly-fitted corset of shiny leather; the leg arches cut high above the hips to expose the columnar lengths of her long haunches and those tall shapely legs, all sheathed in shimmering black nylon. Nadine's eyes glittered with intensity; her painted lips set in a tight line.
Standing in the doorway, Nadine eyed her visitor up and down as if in silent approval of the blonde's office attire: the tailored business suit of pale beige; the trim jacket and narrow skirt, tinted nylons and shiny brown pumps. Nadine kept the mature blond woman standing nervously in the doorway while looking her over. Shelia felt those hard black eyes and, as her own gaze fell to the floor, she became intensely aware of the lethal ruler in the gloved hand that was rhythmically slapping a booted calve.
Shelia's lowered gaze traveled to the gentle mound formed in the leather just below the flattened belly. She shivered to remember her face being smothered in the heat and smell of the other woman's crotch, the feel of raspy nylon as clenched thighs slid on her cheeks while she struggled to obediently lick the narrow strip of leather that ran high up between her Mistress's legs. A giddy feeling of weakness came over her.
Shelia stepped into the thick carpet of the cool stylish apartment and heard the door behind her close, and then lock with a definite click. Now Nadine spoke:
"The jacket and skirt...get them off."
The order was in that no-nonsense tone that was Nadine's brusque manner.
Obediently, Shelia slipped out of the jacket and tugged the snug skirt down her hips. Stepping out of the fallen skirt, she looked inquisitively at her dominatrix.
"Those too...underpants, and shoes...be quick about it."
