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."
Slipping off her heels, she ran her panties down to her ankles and stepped out of them to stand only inches away from Nadine, her crumpled panties held in one hand, acutely aware of the other woman's appraising eyes as she stood there in partial nudity, her loose hanging blouse and stockinged feet.
Nadine beckoned her closer and circled the air with a single finger. Shelia obediently turned in place. She felt a finger lightly touch her bare bottom then slowly follow the downward curve of her right cheek.
"Oh yes," the leather-clad woman breathed. "Such a lovely bottom, my Pet. I remember it will. We shall have to be sure to find just the perfect instrument to do it justice."
***
Shelia sat with her bare bottom on the cool silken cover of a small rounded armchair, while across from her in the center of a large sofa, Nadine sprawled languidly, legs crossed, one foot idly swinging while she studied the bowed head of her guest. Between them, on a glass coffee table a large portfolio case had been placed. It was the sort of carrying case an artist might use, zippered on three sides so that when opened it could lay flat. Nadine called it her "toy box", and now for the first time she allowed her submissive guest to see its contents.
The opened panels displayed an array of instruments useful for pain and pleasure:
short-handled paddles with pliant blades, sturdy hair brushes, and an assortment of vibrators in various shapes and sizes.
But what seemed to interest the dominatrix at the moment was a willowy rod made of stiff but flexible plastic. About the thickness of a finger, with a tapering end, it made a swishing sound when cutting the air. Nadine tested it on her gloved palm a few times watching Shelia's face all the while. Then, with a flick of her wrist she brought the pliant rod down on the thick glass of the table. The abrupt WHAP caused her startled guest to jump.
"Mmmm, yessss," Nadine mused. "Perhaps we should try the rod on that pretty tail of yours?" she asked coyly, while idly slapping her palm.
