Dominated

Carla invited Loren and Amira to join her and Annabel, and they chatted -- for the most part pleasantly -- through two rounds of drinks. The only discordant note came when Loren went to the bathroom and stopped on her way back to talk to a tall, willowy woman with short blond hair. When she returned to the table Amira fixed her with an icy stare and growled, "I thought I told you not to talk to her anymore."

"You're not the boss of me," retorted Loren with childish petulance.

"We'll see about that," said Amira.

Carla and Annabel both felt uncomfortable witnessing this exchange; they didn't know that this was a game Amira and Loren played all the time. Amira would make arbitrary rules for Loren, who would then break them so Amira would have a reason to punish her.

But in the moment it felt very awkward, and Carla quickly changed the subject, making fun of the band -- they had been downing free drinks throughout their performance, and now sounded like they were playing three different songs. She soon got everyone laughing and the tension was forgotten.

When their glasses were empty Amira invited Carla and Annabel for a nightcap; her and Loren's apartment was just a couple of blocks away. Carla hesitated for a moment, worried that Amira and Loren's tiff would continue, or even escalate, in the privacy of their home. But she was curious, a little drunk, and very horny -- their little tryst with Dylan now seemed like ages ago -- so in the end she agreed.

The four of them walked together through the warm SoCal night to an Art Deco apartment building facing the ocean. This was quite an old building by L.A. standards, and though a little worn around the edges it was quite charming, with high ceilings and ornate windows. Walking right past the elevator, Amira led them up two flights of stairs and down a dimly lit hallway to the door of the apartment.

Once they were inside Amira beckoned Carla and Annabel to sit on the couch. She and Loren disappeared into the kitchen for a minute, and when they returned, Loren was carrying two snifters of brandy, while Amira had a third in one hand and the bottle in the other. Loren put one glass down in front of Carla and another next to Annabel; Amira gently sat the bottle on the coffee table, and, after taking a sip of her brandy, said, "I hope you don't mind if we conduct a little personal business."

Carla shook her head no, although she was unsure exactly she was agreeing to; Annabel just stared uncomprehendingly. "Make yourselves at home, please," said Amira, and Carla and Annabel both picked up their snifters and leaned back to see what was going to unfold.

Amira crossed to the other side of the room, where there was a tall and long but narrow glass table. Loren followed, shedding clothes as she went; by the time she was naked Amira had stood the table up on one end, making it about six feet tall.

Loren now walked around to the side of the standing table opposite the legs and pressed herself against the glass, wrapping her arms around the ends and clasping her hands together on the other side. Amira, after setting her snifter down on a windowsill, used a length of cord to bind Loren's wrists tightly together.

In this position Loren's breasts were mashed against the surface of the glass, making her nipples outsized and vivid. There was a full-length mirror on the wall opposite the table where Loren could watch herself, and she did, flexing her hips so that her dark brown bush was also pressed against the table. She just loved putting on a show for visitors.

After slipping a red ballgag into Loren's mouth and tying it off, Amira reached down and pulled off the belt she was wearing. It was a thick, heavy strip of black leather, which she now looped around her hand and snapped in the air.

Loren winced, as did Carla and Annabel. Both of them sipped their drinks nervously as Amira spun, bent her knees a little, and brought the belt down hard on Loren's tender rump. Loren grunted into her gag; the sound reverberated off the glass and reached Carla and Annabel as if it was coming from somewhere far away.

As Amira spanked Loren all up and down her back body, every time a blow landed, her flesh bristled and her breasts jiggled like jello for a moment before settling back into stillness. Carla thoroughly enjoyed every second, but Annabel was a little uneasy; she kept picturing herself in Loren's place. She thought back to when she had been punished publicly at Blair's; ever though there had been more people there, this seemed more humiliating somehow, because it was more intimate.

But Loren did not look distressed; she seemed resigned, even serene. And she became all the more so as the punishment continued; by the time Amira stopped, dangling the belt from one hand, Loren was positively glowing.

Amira reached down with her free hand and slid two thick fingers into Loren's sopping-wet pussy. She wriggled them around inside until it was clear that Loren, who was on a hair trigger, was about to come. At that point Amira pulled the fingers out, removed Loren's gag, and had her lick them clean.

That was all Loren got for the moment. Amira untied her and she stood back from the table, rubbing her wrists and stretching, as Amira recrossed the room. Pointing to Annabel, she said to Carla, "Does this one need any correction?"

Carla sipped her brandy, looking thoughtful as a sly grin curled the corners of her mouth. "Now that you mention it," she said, "she has been misbehaving a bit lately."