Mrs Harts Ache Ch 16

This is the twenty-fifth installment of

Mrs. Hart's Ache

Chapter XVI Sunday

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Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar.

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This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way.

James Mark Masterson.

Just your typical teenager. Smart... sexy... sophisticated... and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do.

And to do who he wants to do.

Mrs Hart has discovered that there is a huge difference between playing B&D games and living the life of a submissive. It's been a difficult journey thus far and it's only been twenty-four hours.

She's met a true Dom, now she's about to meet two Dommes, Royal Bitch Goddesses both. And there's more than spelling to mark the differences.

That she has no control is making her crazy.

It also makes her very wet...

She has much to learn, and much to unlearn. Mistresses Gwendolyn and Saundra are more than happy to help James teach both lessons.

Humility comes reluctantly to a woman of Mrs Hart's class. Learning from James has been an ordeal. Let's see whether or not she can learn some from another woman. Or two.

Happy Reading.

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XVI Sunday

"...

Tomorrow you get your new jewelry. Have you decided which setting you prefer?

...."

When we got into the Miata about nine the next morning, Mrs Hart was a tad subdued. Her disquiet grew when I handed her that pair of opaqued sunglasses. She gave me a questioning look.

"The next destination is a surprise," I explained. "Wear the sunglasses. I'll let you know when you can take them off."

I had a very good reason to keep our destination a secret. Veronica might not agree, but tough shit. Deal with it Mrs Hart.

As usual, Veronica's outfit was impeccable. She'd chosen an elegant floral print sun dress with a bra top and stiletto sandals that strapped around her ankles. Beneath she wore only a pair of sheer pink boy short tap pants. I liked the panties. She shouldn't have been wearing any, but I definitely liked the way she looked in them. The dress did well supporting her heavy breasts with a bare glimpse of cleavage. She looked good enough to eat. I let her carry a small clutch, which dangled on a long strap from her shoulder. I was certain that she'd need to fix her makeup at some point during the day. Her scent was Givenchy, I think. Amarige.

A half-hour later, we arrived at Gwendolyn's place. I knew that Saundra was also there; Cassandra too. All three were in appropriate dress, waiting for us, though they didn't announce their presence when we arrived. With the opaqued sunglasses still in place, Mrs Hart couldn't see the ladies.

The conversation through the drive had been lively. What there was of it. Veronica was not in the best of moods. In a word, she was pissed. I'd promised her decorations, giving her the opportunity to choose location, but she still wasn't used to the idea. She kept hoping that I'd relent. Deal with it Mrs Hart.

Time out.

Poor Veronica: on one hand, she craved a man with a strong hand to maintain discipline; on the other, she hated that that strong hand was attached to my arm. After all, in her world, I was much younger; her daughter's hated paramour; a nobody from the lower classes. Worse, I had control.

But I was also the one who knew her buttons, and knew well how to push them.

Time in.

None of the ladies said a word when we arrived. I got Veronica out of the car, then took her arm and led her into the outbuilding, then down the winding stone staircase into the dungeon. I shut the heavy door behind us, then led her to the middle of the room. You should have seen her face when I lifted the sunglasses from her eyes. Blown away doesn't cover it.

The first thing she saw was the St Andrew's cross. She almost jumped out of her skin. Gwendolyn had lit the torches on the walls, so the place was some kind of spooky in the flickering light. Of all of the places she'd expected to find herself that Sunday morning, a medieval dungeon was not high on her list. Hell, from her reaction, it wasn't even on her list.

Her eyes darted around the room, probably seeking the way out. They came to rest on the rough wooden door. A clue might have been the sound of clicking heels coming down the stone stairway, growing louder with each step. There was obviously more than one person coming. She looked at me, seeking a hint, but I stood silently staring back with my arms folded across my chest. Poor Veronica. She had no idea of the menace approaching. She kept glancing back and forth between me and the door. Finally she broke the silence.

"You promised that no one else would know about us," she hissed in a whisper. "Apparently your word is as worthless as – "

"Don't say anything that you'll regret Veronica! " I interrupted coldly. "I have been very lenient with you, whether or not you realize it. I've made allowances because you are Missy's mother. As of now, that's over. You've used up all of that free pass. To this point you had earned nine punishments. That outburst made it ten. One more word, and I'll double it."

Her expression was thunderous, but her jaws shut with an audible click.

"Now you know that my word is golden," I continued sternly. "The people approaching are well aware of your identity and your status. How and why they know will be revealed at a later time. Suffice to say, they and we are here to attach your chosen adornments. One of those coming has vast experience piercing various body parts. You're lucky that person is available, and I would suggest that you be on your very best behavior starting immediately. After all your new acquaintance will be wielding the piercing needles."

Rage disappeared as horror blossomed upon Veronica's face. This setting was not at all that which she had pictured for her session with the needle. She opened her lips to speak, but before any word could emerge, the heavy iron clasp on the door clanged. A shudder ran through her. She stepped back, putting me between herself and the door, as it creaked open. Veronica's gasp was loud in the cavernous chamber.

If she had been stunned by the setting, she was appalled by the players. Mistresses Gwendolyn and Saundra entered together, and they were in full dress uniform.

Mistress Saundra was regal in a polished red leather and satin corset, black spider web stockings and thigh high red leather boots with five inch spiked heels. Her skin-tight black leather gauntlets ran from the tips of her fingers up, flaring beyond her elbows. Her décolletage was dramatic. The half-cups of the corset lifted her breasts high, and left her huge pink areolae and button nipples exposed. The nipples were pierced with spirals with diamonds embedded in the beads at either end. The bulging lips of her sex embossed the supple black leather of her g-string.

Her fine blond hair was pulled tight to the top of her head in a severe ponytail, then allowed to fall freely about her shoulders, then down to her thighs. It wafted behind in a shining cloud as she moved through the chamber, strutting as only an accomplished Mistress can. The captured mounds of her heavy breasts quivered liquidly with each purposeful stride. Her makeup was perfect: she was an Ice Princess carrying a reed-thin quirt in one gloved hand.

Beside her came Mistress Gwendolyn, dark and subtly menacing in a sheer black silk shirt with billowing sleeves and French cuffs with cufflinks, skin-tight black jodhpurs and black leather knee boots with spiked heels. She too wore gloves: black kidskin snapped at her wrists. Her black hair was gathered in a severe French braid. Her breasts were bare beneath the shirt; her cherry nipples tenting the silk, the points quivering, as were her breasts, with each pace. She carried a polished leather riding crop in one hand. The other held the loop of a leash.

Behind the two Goddesses came Cassandra, scurrying to keep slack in the leash. The silver chain hobble she wore around her ankles made that difficult. Her blond hair was done up on a simple Chignon. A delicate silver chain linked to the rings in her nipples swayed as her bare breasts bobbed with each mincing step. Around her neck, she wore a thick leather collar from which a leather strap fell down her back. Her wrists were secured high behind her back to cuffs riveted to the strap. She was otherwise naked.

The ladies before her were striding in step. Cassandra had to scurry. The leash was secured to the ring through her exposed clit. Any hesitation would be disastrous.

When the ladies stopped before us, Cassandra immediately went to her knees with legs spread and head bowed. She was breathing deeply from the effort to keep up. The rings through her nipples and clit twinkled in the light from the torches. Gwendolyn rested her hand lightly upon Cassandra's shoulder. Cassandra laid her head along her Mistress's thigh.

Saundra offered her hand in greeting. I took it, bowed my head and brushed my lips upon her fingers. "Good morning Mistress Saundra. You are looking particularly enchanting. Thank you for taking the time to assist today." Her eyes twinkled as they met mine.

"Good morning Master James," she said. "You're looking fine yourself, my friend. Anything I can do to help. You know that you have but to ask." The twinkles turned to green ice when she glanced at Veronica.

I turned to her companion with a warm smile. Speaking in French, I greeted her formally. ["

Good morning to you Mistress Gwendolyn. Thank you for allowing me to use your facilities. Your dungeon is a perfect setting for the tasks that we must complete this day.

"]

["

Maître Jacques!

"] said Gwendolyn as she kissed my cheeks. ["

I am happy to see you my friend. How wonderful! You have brought a new student of the art of submission to us.

"]

She glanced at Veronica, her bearing imperious. Her lips formed a thoroughly wicked smile, though the smile never touched her eyes. ["

This must be the infamous Veronica. She does appear to be an impertinent slut, though now she seems frightened and confused rather than arrogant. I find that I am eager to train this insolent whore to behave as a civilized woman. She also appears to be one who will provide exquisite entertainment for us.

"]

I laughed, then answered, ["

Yes! Yes! I have no doubt that she will provide many hours of entertainment for all three of us, and more, over the next three months. Yes, many hours of delicious entertainment!

"]

We laughed together. Veronica obviously didn't understand the language, but did get that she was the topic of our conversation. She managed to look appalled, pissed, embarrassed and very confused, all at the same time.

Gwendolyn caressed Cassandra's cheek and continued in English spiced with engaging French accents:

"And here is your

petite amour

Cassandra. Is she not gorgeous this way: naked but for her jewelry. This morning she has danced delightfully to the music of the whip. In confidence, I think she is in need of a session with your

Monsieur

Snake. Her little pussy is very wet. When I strike her bare mons with my

baton

, her screams are enchanting: she cries out, then raises her loins for more.

Magnifique!

"

Cassandra shivered, sending residual ripples through the firm flesh of her bare breasts. Her nipples were crinkled, standing high and cherry dark. She peered up to Gwendolyn's face, then down quickly again. It wasn't difficult to see the fear and excitement warring in her eyes.

Gwendolyn spoke true: Cassandra's hairless vulva was flushed; her netherlips shiny with wet. Six or seven razor thin weals crossed tender flesh of her plump mons and upper thighs. Additional stripes decorated the cheeks of her ass. All were evidence of a session with a cruel riding crop.

I glanced at Veronica again to see what effect any of this was having.

Now if I've described Mrs Hart correctly, you know that she is a complete Bitch On Wheels. In her public life, she is also a strong woman, a first class business woman with international connections and experience, entirely comfortable either in the Board Room or on a dais in front of a roomful of people. She is complete and completely confident in herself, her abilities and her station in life.

At that point, after hearing Gwendolyn and really seeing Cassandra, she was a complete loss. If I didn't know better, I would say that Mistress Saundra and Mistress Gwendolyn were scaring the shit out of her, and that she was attempting to hide behind me.

Maybe I didn't know better. It was readily apparent that she recognized the real deal when she saw them. She certainly did not at all appear eager to meet, let alone get one inch closer to the two Dommes. I was amazed how quickly she had crumbled when she was taken out of her element.

Saundra gestured toward one of the cells.

"We have yet another young one here: a very bad girl who was in desperate need of discipline. Come, you must see. She has spent the last hour contemplating the error of her ways dancing upon The Board. I promised her that she will remain there for another hour or so, but only if she remains quiet. She may whimper, but she knows if she makes too much noise, she will sleep there tonight. Rather, I think that she will attempt to sleep. Come, Master James. Bring your 'baggage' that she might see what we do to enforce discipline."

She led the way to the cell door. Mrs Hart clutched my arm. She followed me reluctantly, but was desperate not to be separated. If she heard the word 'baggage' she didn't take offence. I think she had decided to keep a very low profile around Mistresses Saundra and Gwendolyn.

I'm glad that she was behind me. My training kept the astonishment I felt off my face, but it was a close call. Saundra was looking for it, so she caught the twitch of my eyebrows. She smiled with twinkling eyes, knowing that she had surprised me.

Veronica moaned and clutched my arm. Her eyes were huge at the sight of the young woman suspended in the cell.

Girlfriend wasn't going anywhere without a lot of help. Her head was encased in a leather discipline hood. Her eyes were covered by blinders. A ballgag distended her jaw. A slender rope ran from the ceiling down to a ring on the top of the hood, with just enough slack that she could bob her head.

Like Cassandra, she too wore a thick leather collar from which a strap trailed down her back to which her wrist were tightly secured in cuffs. Again, like Cassandra, the strain on her arms and shoulders caused her back to arch, throwing her chest out. Otherwise, she was naked but for the jewel in her navel and the shiny silver rings piercing her nipples and the hood of her clit. Thrust up and out, her jutting breasts quivered with each panting breath. I knew those beautiful young tits intimately. Those and the dancing butterfly gracing her belly.

The girl's slender ankles were cuffed to the floor with heavy chains. She straddled a stout board, a two by twelve, suspended edgewise from the ceiling on ropes through heavy ringbolts secured there in a joist. That the board was suspended edgewise meant there was no give when her weight settled. The ropes were pulled taut, so that she was forced to stand on the balls of her feet. The top corners had been planed diagonally to meet at a rounded edge. That edge was nestled between the flushed lips of her sex. Those delicate lips were easy to see, as the padded flesh of her vulva was plucked bare.

Her shapely calves quivered with the effort to maintain her stance, almost on tiptoe. When the muscles in her legs finally gave out, she sank to her heels, which left virtually her entire weight balanced on the edge of the board. The edge dug deeply into the tender flesh between her legs.

So it was when we entered the cell. It was apparent that she was desperate to remain motionless, but the pressure on her taint guaranteed that she would rock in a frantic and futile search to find a more comfortable position. The rocking only intensified the pain: if she rocked forward, her weight was on the divide of her pussy; if she rocked back, it was on the kiss of her ass. When the agony grew too intense, she would rise onto the balls of her feet. Then the excruciating dance would begin again.

I knew those quivering tits well. I'm certain Veronica had no clue that the young woman in the cell was her Executive Assistant, though I recognized Tinkerbelle instantly. Wendy did not appear to be enjoying herself.

Mistress Saundra strode into the cell, heels clicking on the stone floor. She laid her crop along Tinkerbelle's quivering breasts, teasing the rings in her nipples. Wendy shivered, but kept her silence. Saundra's smile was cruel. She bent to kiss Wendy's leathered cheek, then stepped back and lashed Tinkerbelle's bare ass with one wickedly precise stroke. The welt raised was one of many criss-crossing the vibrant flesh of her tautly curved asscheeks.

Mrs Hart swayed, mewing in sympathy for the girl. Only her hold on my arm kept her upright.

Wendy's body jerked wildly, rising to her tiptoes, prancing for balance. Even with the surprise of the cruel lash she maintained her silence but for an explosive gasp. One despondent mew whispered from her throat as the tender lips of her sex rubbed cruelly along the smooth and unyielding edge of the board. The ring through the hood of her clit balanced upon the apex.

Saundra's cruel smile widened as she stepped back to Wendy's side and kissed her cheek again.

"My darling little playmate is learning her lessons well. If she continues to show such diligence this morning, I may allow her to attend me tonight. She has shown some talent in the art of pleasuring her Mistress with soft lips and agile tongue. Haven't you my sweet?" she affirmed while caressing Wendy's naked breast.

Wendy's urgent mew and the bob of her head seemed to confirm her Mistress's words.

Saundra's smile turned to me. "I am the tiniest bit jealous, Master James. Despite my best efforts, sweet little Tinkerbelle yet shows a disturbing preference for a man's attentions. To be blunt, you spoiled her with that magnificent cock of yours. Though I must say that the reluctance she shows when forced to my service allows me wonderful opportunities to – shall we say – to encourage her active and enthusiastic service."

She glanced at Veronica as she spoke, her smile both subtly inviting and overtly menacing. "Despite her reluctance, she shows great aptitude for licking my bare pussy when the tip of my whip dances across the cheeks of her bare bottom."

The color drained from Veronica's cheeks.

Saundra sighed. "Ah well, one cannot have everything one wishes. Thank the Goddesses there are others who are available for servicing a needful Mistress." Before Veronica could react, the tip of Saundra's quirt brushed lightly down the side of one breast, tracing the curve.

Veronica jumped a foot, emitting a terrified squeal, and landed behind me cowering. She clutched my arm to the point of pain with both hands. Her manicured fingernails sank what felt like cuticle deep in my left biceps. I winced then gently disengaged Veronica's grip, but allowed her to slip her arm through mine, then turned to Saundra.

"For shame Mistress Saundra. You've frightened the poor creature," I said with a grin. "We'd best adjourn to the Medical facilities before my 'baggage' faints or worse.

"Fainting is not allowed," Saundra stated firmly, glancing again at Veronica. "Any 'creature' weak enough to faint in my presence soon wakes to find itself locked in an uncomfortable position, enduring a session with my whip. 'Worse' merits more aggressive punishments."