Just as Brenda was really getting into mourning over the breakup with David with angry girl music and a punching bag, there was a pounding at her door. She ripped it open in biker shorts and a bra. There was perfect Trixie, the neighbor from the other half of the country duplex.
"Turn down your music," she demanded in her perfect voice. "It's disturbing my rest." She was in a perfectly cute tank and pants pajama set.
"I don't give a rat's ass about your rest," Brenda replied, cold and flat.
Perfect hurt spread over Trixie's face. "I would do it for you."
Patience shattered, Brenda's pain and anger boiled over, focusing on this perfect little brat, a tart who needed a lesson on life. "Like hell you would," she snarled. She grabbed the dainty blond by the delicate neck and threw her inside, slamming the door behind her. From where she lay sprawled on the floor, Trixie's blue eyes were huge. Brenda read shock, anger and just a touch of so satisfying fear.
"Not once in your life have you thought of anyone but yourself, have you?" she demanded. When Trixie drew breath to argue, Brenda cut her off. "I know you, you self serving little tramp. Trust me, I know all about you and your kind." She grabbed the lightweight by one arm and hauled her to her feet. "Now it's time to learn some manners."
Trixie regained control of herself and began struggling to pull away. "You can't do this!" she shrieked.
Brenda allowed herself a grim smile as she twisted Trixie's arm and pulled her head back by a handful of perfectly tussled hair. "Yet somehow I'm doing it just the same." The power was soothing.
She hadn't actually thought about what she was doing, but as she found herself hauling Trixie down to the Dungeon, a plan began to form.
Once she had one arm strapped down, it wasn't too hard to get the twisting, flailing blond tied in. She fought it, of course, but pulling the perfectly toned arms over her head and avoiding kicks while stretching out the perfectly toned legs was a pleasure in itself. The Velcro shackles were holding remarkably well, despite the fact that they were designed to be escapable. She was stretched in a spread eagle position, approachable from front or back. Brenda knew full well how vulnerable that made one, even fully clothed. Nonetheless, perfect Trixie was not going to be humiliated so easily. She raked Brenda's body with a scathing glance and sneered. "Better put some clothes on, fat ass."
Brenda calmly assessed the situation, fully confident in her own body. The fat skinny Trixie was referring to was a layer Brenda maintained to give her honed body some feminine curves. "No," she replied, "I'm fine, but you're wearing too much." She picked up a knife from the table. "You see," she continued, "a sound whipping is best accomplished on bare skin." Trixie let out her breath, a little, when Brenda switched it for a crop. She was beginning to enjoy playing top to a new person.
"You can't do this! It's illegal. Rape!" she screamed.
Brenda gave her a sharp smack across the stomach, surprising her into silence. "There are rules you will follow." Brenda circled behind Trixie, examining her victim's clothed body carefully. "First, you will do as you're told, no more, no less." With the skinny tank straps, it wasn't hard to see that she was braless. Not that she needed one, her small, firm breasts were almost buoyant. "Second, you will refer to me as Mistress." The pink sides of a high-riding thong crossed the bare skin between shirt and low riding pants. "And last," she lifted Trixie's perfect chin with the crop and looked her in the eye. "You will answer all questions truthfully."
"Go to hell."
Brenda caressed her face with the end of the crop. "Been there." She smiled languidly. "Learned to enjoy it." Trixie pulled her face away with a snarl.
She'd never been with a woman before. The bondage trainer didn't count. After the tramp was properly punished, there might be some time to play. She traded the whip back for the knife. Trixie craned her perfectly slender neck to watch Brenda circle behind her. Suddenly she began thrashing about and screaming. After a moment of watching her vain attempts to escape, Brenda wrapped her hand around the back of her slim, tan neck and squeezed. She became still. Brenda leaned forward and murmured, "I'd hate to slip and cut you." Trixie froze, her muscles trembling. Brenda easily sliced the tank in two, exposing the rest of Trixie's perfect, slender, tan back. Without tan lines. "Do you use a bottle or a bed?" It was too even to be natural. Trixie was silent. Brenda started to squeeze the pressure point by her neck.
Before her knees even buckled she squeaked, "Bed! I use a bed!"
Brenda paused, then continued to squeeze. "You use a bed, what?"
Her knees buckled. "Mistress! I use a bed, Mistress."
Brenda smoothed her hand over the reddened skin. She had no pain tolerance. Next came the pants. They were enormously baggy draw-string pants. She slid her hand down the soft-skinned back and forward over the hip-bone. Stepping closer, she let her breasts lightly brush Trixie's back. The tramp's breaths were quick and shallow, catching every time Brenda moved. Brenda stroked her perfectly flat stomach soothingly until she was trembling less. With one flick of her hand she undid the bow and the pants settled half way down Trixie's thighs. She stepped back to admire the view. Her perfect, slender back flared slightly at the top into toned shoulders and at the bottom into slim hips. Her high, firm ass was tensed in apprehension and nicely outlined by a high-riding rose colored thong.
Brenda traded the knife for a soft, many-tailed whip hanging on the wall. It was probably as much as the weakling could stand, but it should give her some satisfaction. The first stroke was only of medium strength applied to the perfectly tanned cheeks. Trixie gave a shriek of surprise and wreathed in her bonds. The second stroke was laid just above the first. Trixie snarled in anger as Brenda smiled. The third covered the lower back as the lower flesh flushed with blood.
"You bitch!" Trixie shrieked, flailing.
Brenda had had enough of the attitude. She grabbed Trixie by her perfect blond hair and pulled her head back roughly. "Be careful what you say, you may regret it." She tossed the blond head forward and made the next stroke three-quarter strength.
"That hurt, you whore!"
Full strength against the tiring shoulder muscles produced only a shriek of pain. She went back to medium strength as she worked her way back down the smarting flesh. The only response was grunts of pain.
Brenda stopped after the last stroke across her ass and stepped aside to watch her. Trixie twitched twice in time to with the stopped strokes, then realized something had changed. She lifted her flushed face, tears staining her cheeks. Brenda finger-combed Trixie's hair back. "Not bad, girlie, not bad." Trixie's blue eyes were a mixture of fear, anger and something else. "Are you sorry you were rude to me tonight?"
Trixie paused, then gave a sulky, "Yes." Brenda reached for the crop. "Yes, Mistress, I'm sorry Mistress!" came the hurried correction.
"At least you can be taught." Brenda unhooked Trixie's ankles and clipped her wrist shackles together. "Step out of the pants." Trixie reluctantly obeyed and Brenda led her to a padded bench. "Lie on your stomach." The blond didn't move. Brenda sensually stroked the back of her neck. "Do you really want to try my patience?" Trixie shivered and did as she was told.
Brenda fastened her arms down, and as she was securing her legs, she smelled the strong musk of sex. The exposed crotch was soaked through. "My, my, we are a little tramp, aren't we?" She placed her palms on the backs of Trixie's perfectly smooth thighs. "Just the smallest correction and you're all hot and bothered." Brenda herself was getting turned on, putting this hussy in her place. Trixie wriggled and tried to hide her red face in her shoulder.
Brenda slid her hands up and cupped Trixie's perfect ass. "Tell me, tramp," she murmured, "How many men have you let between your legs?"
"I don't know," the tramp mumbled. Brenda dug her fingers into the tense muscles warningly. "I don't know, Mistress!" she cried out.
Brenda reluctantly withdrew her hands. "We'll just have to jog your memory." She picked up a thick-handled switch and stood where her victim couldn't see her. "More than ten?" she asked.
"Yes, Mistress." Brenda watched her pert profile and taut body, seeing the confusion. She was undoubtedly a lesbian virgin, so her very strong positive reaction probably scared her.
