Chapter 3: Lana reinforces her control
As she and Jeremy had strolled into the reception area from the hotel's indoor pool, Rachal caught sight of Lana at the reception desk. The butch Manageress was talking to the redhead she'd seen down by the hotel pool on a couple of occasions.
Seen her? That was an understatement.
The woman had no reservations about sunbathing topless, and she'd frequently watched as Rachal did the same, making no attempt to hide her interest. It wasn't that she was particularly attractive—without being unkind, she was quite plain—and Rachal estimated she was almost twice her age—in her mid forties, probably.
But the thing was, although her body was slender and her breasts were small, she reminded Rachal so much of that woman's body in the movie, Body Heat. Kathleen Turner, that's who it was, and although her breasts were small, her nipples—like this woman's—were very long and looked like they were begging to be sucked.
She shook her head in disbelief at the thought. Two days ago she had no interest in women at all and now she was thinking about sucking Kathleen Turner's body double's nipples? Oh My God, her encounters with Lana were having far too powerful an effect on her libido!
God, she'd even put on a show for the redhead this afternoon, standing on the opposite side of the pool to let the woman openly ogle her as she'd oiled herself.
As Jeremy paused to take a message from someone—no doubt another business deal—Rachal found her gaze drawn across the foyer to the two of them. Both pairs of eyes seemed to be crawling all over her tanned body as they spoke. Could it be that they were discussing her? She felt her nipples rise and pulled her small black wrap more closely around her skimpy red bikini in coy embarrassment.
Thoughts of the way Lana had seduced her ran through her mind—and all the things they'd done together. Her pretty brown eyes widened as the memories settled between her legs. Thank God she had sunglasses with her—she felt as vulnerable as a rabbit caught in the sudden flare of oncoming headlights. Dropping the shades perched on the top of her hair over her eyes, she turned away.
It seemed like Lana took that as her cue. The woman's deep voice floated across the room towards her. "Are you coming over, Rachal?" she called across the room. Her voice was commanding. This was an instruction, not a request. "I have that information you wanted."
"Information?" Jeremy asked, shaking the man's hand as he left and then turning to his girlfriend.
Rachal nodded, pleased for the protection the sunglasses offered. "Stuff for work."
He pulled a face. There was only one thing on his mind and it wasn't work. They hadn't made love in a couple of days and Rachal's near naked body at the pool had him primed for action. "Work? It can wait until tomorrow, can't it?"
The brunette turned to Lana, just in time to see the redhead casually sauntering away, but grinning at her over her shoulder. Something was up!
The butch Manageress's voice instantly cut off any escape route. "You said you wanted to look at it as soon as you returned from the pool, yes?"
"Please," Rachal stammered, patting Jeremy's arm as she gave him her best winning smile. "I won't be long, I promise."
***
"I really can't stay long—" Rachal began as soon as she entered the woman's office. The look in the skinhead woman's eyes stopped her. That look was like no other. It was commanding, it demanded complicity, and yet it promised so much.
"You'll stay as long as I determine," Lana told her, closing the blinds covering the office window and then locking the door with a silent click.
"But, Jeremy—" Rachal tried, but then her voice died away. Lana had turned her back to her as she walked to her desk and pulled open a drawer. The gold necklace she took out was plain and simple, with some sort of ornament on the front.
"This is for you," she said, turning back to Rachal and handing it to her.
"For me?"
The older woman nodded. "You will wear it at all times, understand? Like all my pets. It looks like a necklace, but it's actually a collar. See the lock on the front? That signifies that you belong to me."
"But—"
Lana shook her head. "There are no buts."
Rachal felt a pang of frustration. When she was with this woman, nothing else seemed to matter. And yet she was returning home with Jeremy soon. She didn't want him wondering what she was up to. "Look, I'm sorry but—"
The slap across her cheek took the brunette by surprise. It was a light slap, designed more for effect than to give any pain. It didn't even leave a mark. Lana knew that would have been dangerous with Jeremy waiting for the girl. But it stung just enough to reinforce her words. "I told you there are no buts. A slave who disobeys her Mistress must be punished. Do you want to be punished?"
Rachal shook her head, a look of shock still covering her face. The woman had hit her, actually hit her. But what felt much worse was the fact that the slap turned her on. Little pinpricks of sexual heat had formed across her curvy body. "No—" she somehow managed to respond.
"Then behave when your Mistress speaks to you. What am I?"
"You're my Mistress." Rachal surprised herself as the words tumbled out. She didn't even hesitate. If she'd been having doubts, the slap had instantly removed them. It was difficult to comprehend... she was actually getting off on being dominated.
"And what are you?"
"Your... pet...?"