AUTHOR'S NOTE: Change of pace for me, exploring the BDSM realm, this of older dominatrix controlling a younger woman. Ass and pussy worship, whipping, strap on sex, face sitting, smothering, nipple torture and other delights are contained here, so enjoy if that's to your liking...
*****
Karen Keys waited. It was 10 a.m. The appointment was for 9:45. And Karen Keys was not a woman who liked to be kept waiting.
She sat in her living room, a spacious place of high-end furnishing, paintings and large windows overlooking the ocean. She'd done well in her 64 years of life, marrying young, divorcing well and investing her half of her ex-husband's company's profits into real estate. And then in later life, when she didn't need the money, she found another calling, one suited to her controlling ways.
Dominatrix. She'd known about the trade, or "craft," as she preferred calling it, and did her research before starting out at 54. Now 10 years later, she was doing well. Many were the clients, older, well-to-do older men mostly, who liked her look and style. She was tall and strong, muscular even for a woman in her age range, with bright silver hair, penetrating blue eyes, high cheekbones and a brilliant smile. And mind to match.
She'd always paid her taxes, taking deductions like everyone else and never had a problem. But now she'd gotten an audit notice. From one Dana Collins, whom she imagined to be an eager young man trying to make a name for himself. The chief concern was, according to his emails to her, the claims she made on office space. He would come by to verify, the audit letter stated.
Her "office" was her dungeon. Her occupation was one listed as "behavioral consultant."
She tapped the audit notice in her hand as she waited, dressed in a smart simple black business suit, shortish black skirt, nylons and blouse. She heard a car pull up and looked out.
"My, my, my," she smiled to herself.
Dana Collins was a woman. Young, early 20s, Karen surmised, pretty and round, short black hair and big round eyes, a bit thickly built, wearing black slacks and blazer, very officious looking. She gathered up her valise and came up the steps, a stern look on her face.
Karen answered before Dana could knock and was standing with hands poised to do so as the door opened.
"Ah, Miss Collins," Karen said politely. "You're a bit late."
"Uh, yes, yes, traffic," the young woman said a bit taken aback at the observation of tardiness, walking ahead of the sexy older woman leading her to the living room. "And please, call me Agent Collins."
"Very well, young lady," Karen cooed with an edge in her tone.
Dana thought about correcting her, then demurred. She was always in control, in charge, in her scant one year on the job. But this woman's demeanor was unsettling. She seemed to be in control, in charge. And it made Dana uneasy.
"Now, about your claim of office space," Dana said, turning to rifle through her papers, not looking at Karen, who stared at her with a slight smile on her face, the gentlest of puckered skin around her mouth.
"Here," Karen said, walking up the stairs leading to her loft office. "Follow me."
Her first inclination, when she saw the rather butch-looking agent get out of her car, was she was a lesbian. Now Karen walked slowly up the steps, Dana behind her, and she could feel her eyes on her flexing calves, the sexy muscles flowing under her dark nylons, and her remarkably well-shaped ass pressed against her skirt.
"This could be fun," she thought to herself.
Dana looked around the small space with desk, filing cabinet, computer, printer and other basic gear. She turned to look at Karen, after consulting her sheet.
"Uh, I don't think this is anywhere close to what you've claimed, Ms. Keys," she said.
For an instant, Karen thought of correcting her. She smiled, preferring to wait.
"Of course it isn't, but you haven't seen it all, my dear," Karen said politely. "Now, downstairs if you would..."
They made their way down the stairs, Karen again feeling Dana's furtive eyes on her, and down the hall to a door leading to the basement. She waited until they were fully down the stairs and around a corner and into a door Karen held open before snapping on the lights.
The gasp was audible, a sharp drawn breath. It pleased Karen.
"What the..." Dana said in disbelief.
"A dungeon, Agent Collins, it is a dungeon," Karen said, walking confidently into the middle of it. "It is what I use for my behavioral consulting."
Dana took it all in, or tried to. The walls were painted dark burgundy, and on them were racks of straps, leather straps thick and nasty looking, straps of cut leather strips, paddles of all sizes and shape, metal ones of waffle design. There was a cage, small and confining. There was a stock, with cutouts for the head and arms, and an X-frame, wooden and black, with cuffs on each corner. Another rack held handcuffs and ankle cuffs, metal and leather. There was a rack, a torture device for stretching. In one cupboard by another wall, a collection of dildos and strapons, of varying length and fitness. In the center was a small ring, a wrestling ring.
Dana shook her head, trying to make sense of it.
"My dungeon, Agent Collins, IS my office!" Karen announced brightly, spreading her hands, smiling a beaming smile. "Do tell me you know such businesses exist?"
"Uh, yes, sure I do, but I...I've never...I'll have to consult...ask someone," she stammered, completely rattled now.
Just where Karen wanted her.
"Now, Agent Collins," Karen said with a darkening tone of voice, walking up to the stunned agent. "You can't tell me this doesn't fascinate you."
It wasn't a question.
