Exploring My Sadistic Side

"We have three new applicants this week, Madam President," said Rachel, handing me the file folder. She retreated and stood respectfully at attention next to the blazing fireplace in her black pencil skirt, matching silk stockings and pumps. I reclined in the huge armchair behind the dark oak desk in the master study of our Queen Anne headquarters as I started to leaf through the files.

"Oh, for the love of Goddess," I said, shaking my head. "Trish Cantwell just doesn't know when to quit. This is the third time in the last two years. I don't like her record and I don't like her attitude. Next time she submits an application, trash it." I tossed the first file on the Persian carpet.

"Yes, Madam President," said Rachel quickly, bending to gather up the papers and put them in the fire. I admired her 30-something, busty, gym-toned figure in profile...but set those thoughts aside for now. There'd be plenty of time to play later. It was just a matter of choosing which of the five bedrooms.

I continued reading. "Now, this Jennifer Chang, it sounds like she has potential. She had a relationship with Helen Axworthy when they worked together at the California Pacific Medical Center in San Francisco, and Helen vouches for her. But there's no rush here. We'll invite her to the lunch at Blueacre Seafood on Thursday and see how she fits in with the other sisters before taking the next step."

"Absolutely, Madam President," said Rachel, inputting the details into her BlackBerry. "And will you be coming to lunch straight from work, or shall I send the limo to pick you up from the house here?"

"I'll be here, actually," I said. "The contractor is coming by to install the video cameras in the basement play palace, and I want to ensure personally that they're functioning to my satisfaction. Tell Missy to be out front at 12:30 sharp."

"Consider it done." Rachel noticed me raising my little finger - one of our signals. I shifted my armchair sideways and she knelt to remove my shoes and give me a footrub while I went through the last file.

For the last three years, I've been the President of the Sisters of Concupiscence. It's a Seattle-based organization you won't have heard about on the radio, TV, or Internet. "Concupiscence" is a Latin-based word that means "strong desire, especially sexual; lust," and that's appropriate, since our membership consists principally of bisexual and lesbian nurses who are intelligent, attractive, discreet, and determined to indulge all of their appetites.

About 20 percent of our members are ostensibly straight women; for those in the know, membership is a potent tool for professional advancement, be it in promotions, salary, business travel or other areas.

Our sisters take care of one another. In fact, this gracious old mansion in Queen Anne - well-concealed behind black iron gates and tall hedges - was donated by our past President. She had assets to spare - in every sense, but particularly after she divorced her corporate lawyer husband and relocated to Hawaii to be with her new black girlfriend.

New prospective members just have to be willing to do what they're told. We don't fuck around, and never will as long as I'm President. I sighed with enjoyment as Rachel worshipped my feet, running her tongue up my sole to enhance her massage.

I did a double-take when I looked at the third file. That portrait photo looked unmistakably familiar. There was a clear resemblance.

"Olivia Larouche? Good Goddess...could it be?" I reached for the new iPad on my desk and did a quick Google. My suspicions were confirmed.

I flipped rapidly through the file. Perfect. I'd wanted something like this for years. Now I was finally going to fulfill one of my favourite kinky, sadistic fantasies. It was going to be a little different than I'd envisioned...but even better on another level. Nasty thoughts flooded my mind. My pussy and anus clenched with anticipation. When was our next formal meeting?

I took Rachel by her long brown ponytail, and guided her to stand up at attention. She pulled out her BlackBerry again.

"Rachel, Ms. Larouche appears to be an ideal candidate. We're going to fast-forward her application. I want you to give her a call and let her know she's invited for her initiation on Sunday at 8 pm. You'll need to get her to fill out the waiver form and drop it off with you at the clinic on Broadway in a clearly marked red envelope no later than Friday. When she gets here on Sunday, tell her to buzz three times: short and quick. Missy will let her in and bring her down to the basement. I'll want you there to observe and participate, along with Jacqueline, Sandra, and, let's see...Missy will bring us to quorum. So that'll do it. I know we have several sisters out of town skiing this weekend."

"And what is your desired code level, Madam President?"

I smiled. "Code C."

Rachel giggled. "Your favourite code. Of course."

The codes allude to the style and intensity of the initiation that we put new prospective members through. I personally revised and approved each level myself after I was unanimously voted in the first time. Rachel was a Code B. She's served me for two years now and knows my tastes well.

Code A is "Alcohol." This is quite light. We get the girl to drink two to four glasses of red wine - often two is all it takes - and then walk around the room, French-kissing whomever demands her services and offering her bare breasts to be fondled. That was my route, and Jacqueline's route as well last year - it was her very first bi experience after a strict Catholic upbringing and long-term marriage. I still remember how swollen her big, brown nipples felt between my fingers when I pulled her into my lap on the throne...

Code B is "Bondwoman." With other sisters watching, the new member receives a hand-spanking from the woman whom she is to serve for a minimum of one year. She is also ordered to expose her pussy or her tits in public, somewhere that another woman - a non-member - can see it and in a manner that draws a verbal reaction. After that, the new member is issued a cell phone and must respond in as timely a manner as possible to any requests that she receives by voice mail or text. Shopping, cleaning, beauty treatments, sexual service...you name it.

Code C is "Cunt." Well, you'll see. Let's just say that I get off on rough, kinky play where I'm exalted while another woman - a slave - is used and humiliated for my pleasure. With an approving audience watching, of course.

So what got me so excited about dominating Olivia Larouche on Sunday night?

When I sat on the throne in our intimately lit play palace- nearly 1,500 square feet, lavishly furnished with sculptures of nude Greek goddesses and decorated with flickering red candles - I realized how perfect it was going to be. Trembling in her white bra and thong panties, Olivia stood for inspection in front of me - tall, willowy, long blonde hair that just touched the top of her tits. The video cameras were turned on. The other women watched me and her with barely concealed smiles of anticipation. In the background, Rachel awaited my instructions next to a tall black cupboard next to the door.

This was the first time I'd ever seen Olivia, a 25-year-old acute care nurse from Swedish Medical Center, in person. But yes, she looked just like her mother Nerissa, who'd gone to West Seattle High School with me.

I smiled and sipped my red wine. I was in no hurry. That afternoon, I'd been out for a manicure and pedicure at a new salon on Pine Street, followed by a personalized makeup session. It was all paid for by the Sisters of Concupiscence. I chose a bold color-coordinated theme with my preferred shade of Lincoln Park After Dark, accentuating my dark sensuality with my nails, lipstick, and eyeshadow. The petite Filipina women working on me got me so fucking horny I could hardly take it. I hadn't masturbated all day before coming out to the mansion.

I wore a black mesh see-through top that I'd been wearing on some of my recent flashing forays, complementing my $700 customized black Givenchy power suit. Sandra had volunteered to cut the crotch out for me, so that I could expose my pantiless, unshaven cunt to our members at meetings like these. I am an exhibitionist and I fucking love it. I couldn't imagine what was going through Olivia's mind.

Her mother had been one of the most beautiful girls at my high school, but she'd treated me like a real bitch - for no good reason. Calling me a "weirdo" and a "freak" at drama class when the teacher was out of the room, spiking the ball at my head in a volleyball game, getting one of my best friends to exclude me from a birthday party in one of those nasty, clique-y high school girl episodes. Naturally, I didn't stay in touch with Nerissa after high school, but I heard from a friend that she'd married a guy she met in college and was now selling travel insurance in Tacoma.

Now I was about to use her unknowing daughter for some fuckin' fun of my own, and that thought really got me off. I have a secret sadistic side. A few years ago, I watched an Internet video with a young, tall woman getting her ass beaten black and blue, and I was transfixed. I just loved the sound of her screams, moans, and tears. I knew then that I wanted to inflict pain on another woman for my own perfect pleasure. And now, my clit was throbbing with need as I sized up Olivia.

"Why are you here?" I asked Olivia.

"I want to be a Sister of Con...Concu...Consu..."

I laughed harshly, as did Jacqueline and Sandra. "She can't even say it right! You like standing there in your underwear, mumbling away? Is that something you're good at, Olivia?"

Flustered, Olivia raised her hands. "Hey, sorry...I didn't - "

"Shut up! Answer my first question. And remember, you are to address me as Madam President."

"Yes, Madam President." Olivia tugged self-consciously at the waistband of her thong panties.

"Tell me why you want to be a Sister of Concupiscence."

"I think I have a lot to offer the organization," Olivia said. "My oral skills and verbal skills are very good and I'm a hard worker. Also, I hear it would be good for my career."

"Is that so?" I shook my head with disgust. "Well, your attention to detail is sorely lacking. Didn't I just tell you to call me Madam President?"

I raised my forefinger in another signal to Rachel. Clad in black yoga pants and a silver top with spaghetti straps, she strode swiftly forward, gripping a leather paddle in her right hand. Rachel grabbed Olivia by the hair and struck her firmly across the ass. Olivia let out a shriek.

"Ouch! Shit...that stung."

"Did it?" I inquired with a lustful smile. I motioned to Rachel, who turned Olivia around.

"Pull down her panties, Rachel," I said. The other women craned forward to have a good look. Olivia tried to struggle away, but Rachel, who doubles as a personal trainer, easily held her in place.

With a switch in the arm of my beautifully carved throne, I turned on a small spotlight that illuminated Olivia and her trimmed blonde pussy perfectly.

There was a beautiful red-pink, paddle-shaped mark across the 25-year-old slut's ass. Jacqueline, Sandra, and Missy applauded and laughed. That gave me pleasure.

Rachel pulled up Olivia's panties and made her turn around. "Face Madam President, but keep your eyes on the floor. You've disgraced yourself with the way you addressed her. Do you understand, bitch?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. I'm very sorry, Madam President."

I laughed. I was very turned on by the note of shame in Olivia's voice. I loved seeing her bowing her head in front of me, starting to learn the hard way about what it was going to be like to serve me and worship me. I started to rub my exposed pussy, knowing everyone could see me and hear that I was nice and soaked.

"You don't even know what sorry is, you little cunt," I told her. "It's time for us to show us who you really are. Take off your bra in front of the sisters. Now."

Olivia obeyed, unhooking it quickly and dropping it on the floor. I caught a glint of something on her left hand in the spotlight.

"What's that ring you're wearing?" I demanded.

Olivia looked up and pouted. "None of your beeswax."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" I said, half-rising out of my throne.

Without waiting for a signal from me, Rachel came forward and tackled Olivia to the floor. The other women applauded. "That's it, Rachel! Show her she isn't shit down here!" yelled Sandra.

With Olivia prostrate in front of my throat, Rachel yanked her panties down again and paddled her without mercy. Ten strokes. "Oh fuck! Oh shit! Oh my fucking God, what are you doing?" Olivia screamed, grimacing with pain. "Oh shit, that hurts."

Olivia clambered to her hands and knees, but no further. I could see tears glinting in her eyes - the same tears I'd wanted to see in Nerissa's eyes years ago.

"Now are you going to tell me?" I said.

"It's my engagement ring," Olivia sniffled. "My fiance Josh gave it to me at Christmas."

"Get it off her and put it in that empty garbage can over there for safekeeping," I told Rachel. "No slave is going to wear her fucking ring in front of me."

Disregarding Olivia's moans of protest, Rachel complied and then stood with her legs akimbo over the Sisters of Concupiscence's newest fuck-toy. "Should I give her more?" she asked me.

I had three fingers at an angle rubbing my swollen-up bead now. "Oh yeah. You're going to keep using this little cunt for me," I said in a loud, strident voice. "Wait for my signal, Rachel."

"Please, no, Madam President!" gasped Olivia. "Please, I'm begging you!"

Ignoring her, I laughed with pleasure. I turned up the spotlight over my throne and reached between my thighs to spread open my pussy, so that everyone could see just how soaked and aroused I was from verbally and physically humiliating this young cunt. Missy, petite, dark-haired, and eager, met my gaze, and when I nodded, she came over. I stood up and pulled off my slacks, exposing myself further, and Missy began to caress and lick my thighs with her deliciously warm tongue

Jacqueline and Sandra began to clap and chant: "Paddle this bitch for our President's pleasure! Paddle this bitch for our president's pleasure!" Rachel turned Olivia sideways so I could see her face and ass at the same time. She ran the paddle teasingly up over Olivia's fully exposed cunt lips, and then began to beat her again. Tears ran down Olivia's cheeks as Rachel bruised her ass with the unfettered cruelty that I'd taught her. My cunt was about to explode as I enjoyed the chanting and the screams, while Missy started tonguing my slit. I frigged hard.

I wanted to hurt this bitch bad with sadistic words that would get me off. "What would your fuckin' fiance think if he could see you now?" I grunted. "What would your mother say?"

Olivia sobbed loudly and I had a huge climax, my whole body stiffening as I almost rolled off the throne, clutching Missy against me. Jacqueline and Sandra rushed over, stripping over their tops and pressing their full tits into my face. It felt so good to be a sadistic, dominant bitch.

And there was more fun to come.

A few minutes later, Rachel hauled the naked, screaming Olivia to the opposite side of the room, where a black St. Andrews Cross - shaped in an X formation with handcuffs and leg cuffs - awaited. Rachel expertly clamped her in place on the cross and asked me: "Would you like to use this slave some more, Madam President?" That was a definite yes.

I gave Olivia a hard hand-spanking, twenty slaps long, and with each cry for mercy, with Olivia's back toward me, I pictured Nerissa's face. That felt so fucking good.

For a girl who'd claimed never to have had a bi experience before, Olivia learned fast. She had no choice. We all took turns feeling up her nude body and commenting on it. "Nice ass. Love those fuckin' bruises." "Look at those pretty lips. You're going to love sucking the juice out of our President's cunt on one of those king-sized beds upstairs...we all do." I wiped my cunt slowly and deliberately against Olivia's ivory-smooth skin and then got Rachel to lick it off for me.

Sandra had brought a bottle of Merlot. We all drank it together, toasting the Sisters of Concupiscence. When it was empty, Jacqueline asked my permission to lube up the long green glass neck and push it slowly into Olivia's tight little asshole. Olivia had never been anally penetrated before, and the look of shock gradually turning to pleasure on her face gave me another thrill, deep in my cunt.

When my sadistic initiation of Olivia finally came to an end, I told the girls to get the master bedroom ready for me. Rachel summoned the elevator, and Olivia and I went to the top floor together. Illuminated by moonlight through the lace curtains, we lay there entangled on the huge bed. I stroked her hair and caressed her properly bruised ass while she suckled submissively on my nipples. "I really enjoyed that," she confided in my ear. "I found out I love to be humiliated."

I knew she was going to be a good slave for me - doing whatever I craved, whatever I told her in my secret, kinky world with the Sisters of Concupiscence in this mansion of taboo pleasures.