Lady Noir

This story takes place after "Abducting An Angel," so you may choose to read that one first but won't miss much if you don't.

"No."

Alicia was glaring at me with a resolute expression, stubbornly refusing to hear my argument. I'd suggested that we hire a professional dominatrix for a bit of extra flair in our bondage games, but she wouldn't hear of it.

"But it'll just be-"

"Gordon," she said sharply, cutting me off. "I told you when we first met. I'm not a lesbian. I have no desire to be dominated by some gay female sex worker - nor anyone besides you, for that matter."

As much as that made me feel like the luckiest man alive, I couldn't let her see how taken I was by her loyalty. It would set a bad precedence: she was too smart to pass up any opportunity for such easy manipulation. And I could remember that first conversation perfectly well - she had awoken naked and restrained in this very dungeon, snatched from her old life and dragged crying and whimpering into mine.

But I'd fallen in love with my captive. Her beautiful body, her angelic smile, her innocence, her sharp intelligence... We'd married barely a week after I'd abducted her. Call it fate; call it a twisted perversion of marriage; whatever the case, I'd been thrilled. I'd even let her out of the dungeon. Eventually. But now we're as close as two strands of hair. Stuck together with sweat. The hair, that is, not... Well, maybe that too.

We've certainly enjoyed an exciting marriage and sex life since then, mixing things up every weekend with some heavy bondage and occasional mind games. There was nothing held back in our relationship; nothing between us but some occasional strands of rope. She was always the submissive, of course - I had no desire to be the powerless one.

But now I had an unshakeable craving to witness some girl-on-girl action. As any straight guy does from time to time, I suppose. The problem was, my wife was obstinately opposed to being intimate with anyone but me. An honourable notion, but it was hardly infidelity when I was the one pushing for her to submit to another woman. Her real objection was not about submitting to someone else, but about submitting specifically to a female. There was no doubt in my mind that she would enjoy it if she actually gave it a chance, though.

As much as I sincerely wanted to respect her wishes in this, I still had my craving for lesbian action to address, so I was going to go ahead with my plans whether she liked them or not. I was the master of this relationship, after all - it was my right to take charge of my wife's sexual liaisons.

I feigned defeat and went off to make the booking. I settled with a service called Domme-in-8, which claimed to be able to dispatch any available personnel to any local address in just 8 minutes. I was hardly local, but I'm sure they wouldn't take much longer than that. And all of their female dommes were also shamelessly attractive, which was an impressive feat when their photos were alongside my wife's.

Just filling in a form on Alicia's behalf was getting me aroused. Even with our weekly sexual exploits, I could never tire of my wife's beauty. She always did amazing things with her hair, too. Today she had a lock of hair from each side of her head pulled back into a plait, creating the appearance of an elegant tiara around the crown of her head. It made her look a bit like a graceful elf from some fantasy universe. I attached a few optional photos to the application, hoping they would appreciate her stunning beauty as much as I did and send us their best domme.

There sure were some bizarre questions, though. I could understand wanting to know things like breast size and body weight, but first sexual experience? Dental history? They even wanted to know her favourite colour, for goodness' sake. Some were deeply personal questions - which I usually had no trouble answering for her, funnily enough - but others were just random preferences and things that I had no idea about, so just I made up some answers. It was strange that they needed to know so much, but they looked professional enough so I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt.

I paused when I reached the section about personal limits. "What activities, if any, do you NOT enjoy?"

Thinking about it for a moment, I decided I would reserve the pleasure of anal penetration for myself. I also disallowed nipple clamps, since I knew she hated them. She would already hate me enough for hiring the dominatrix in the first place. The text box now read, "anal contact, nipple torture" and I added "tickling (especially sides and armpits)", knowing Alicia would thank me for it eventually.

Finally, I added in a few details about my dungeon and the equipment I had available. The dominatrix would no doubt bring her own tools of the trade, but I'm sure it would help for her to know just what devious devices I already had set up in my amply-equipped mansion.

Ensuring all Alicia's details were filled in and accurate to my knowledge, I submitted the form and returned to Alicia. I told her we were going to play some games, and she smiled and hopped into the chair I'd had specially built for her. I'd never actually gotten around to telling her just how extensively I'd stalked her before I'd made my move - she probably thought all my equipment was just conveniently snug-fitting, but the reality was that I'd had a long time to tailor everything to her precise measurements. Everything from the neck-length collar she always wore to the dosages of gas in my padded cell were all designed uniquely for her.

It was the time of the week that I normally tied her up and exploited her to our mutual pleasure, so she would be expecting nothing less now.

I allowed her to keep her clothes for the time being - it was often more fun to prolong the inevitable reveal of her flawless skin. I strapped her into the chair securely, locking her arms on either side of her. I left her legs held slightly apart by the chair's split leg rests to give me easy access to her succulent pussy. Her metal collar was clipped to the headrest to prevent her from lifting her head.

As I moved, she watched me with a happy smile. Her face was filled with endearing love and a confidence that she could rely on me to keep her safe as she placed her life in my hands. I squirmed guiltily inside, knowing I was about to betray that trust. I could only hope she'd forgive me as she once had for her abduction.

But there was no turning back now. I shoved my conscience aside as my eyes lustfully raked her figure. Her clothes, like everything else, were tailored for her and left little to the imagination. She was wearing a tight blouse with built-in support for her breasts, accentuating her firm bust against the thin material. A skimpy schoolgirl miniskirt sat on her hips, barely covering the chrome finish of her ever-present chastity belt. I only removed her belt every weekend, ensuring she was always as eager as I was to ream some sexual pleasure from her suffocated pussy. I swiftly unlocked the clasp now, loosening the belt but leaving it resting around her shapely hips.

Her nipples were my first victims. I slowly unbuttoned her blouse and sucked gently on each one, slipping a finger over her pronounced navel and into her skirt to tease her trembling pussy after its long deprivation. I felt her body shaking as her soft moans filled the room, sweet music to my ears. Soon she was close to climaxing. Her moans intensified, trilling a melodic harmony as I brought her to the edge. Then the doorbell rang.

I stopped and left her stewing at the height of her arousal, ignoring her wide-eyed disbelief and exasperated groans as I ascended to the front door.

"Hello," I started as I opened the door. The rest of my words caught in my throat as I surveyed the goddess before me. Her natural beauty made her almost as stunning as my wife, and everything about the way she was dressed - if indeed such could be considered clothing - and how she was posed simply emanated sexuality.

Stiff crimson leather was moulded to her buxom figure from her barely-covered breasts to her angled hips. Glossy black thigh-length heels glistened brilliantly in the soft dusk, leaving only a narrow strip of smooth skin visible below her bodice. Her skin-tight gloves extended almost to her shoulders and gleamed like polished obsidian, her fingers wrapped confidently around the handle of a long black cane. Assorted belts and buckles encircled each of her legs and her torso liberally with seemingly no purpose beyond aesthetics. And the aesthetic was spectacular - the black belts wrapped tightly around her slim torso stood out in a striking contrast to the deep blood-red leather hugging her waist.

Wavy black hair hung loose over her bare shoulders, framing her bemused expression. Modest amounts of eye shadow and lip gloss emphasised her dark blue eyes and pale pink lips. My knees buckled slightly as I resisted the urge to kneel in awe of her efficacious presence. She leaned against a wooden post, watching my face with detached amusement.

"I take it you're not my client," she said in a mellow voice, smiling at my speechlessness.

"Uhh... No," I stammered. "Alicia is inside." I gestured nervously for her to enter.

"Excellent," she replied, strolling briskly past me and surveying the foyer as if inspecting a new property she'd just acquired. I glanced around to ensure no one else was there and closed the door, walking over to the side door leading down to the sub-basement. She followed swiftly behind me, her polished heels clacking loudly against the floor. Her provocative attire produced a leathery swishing sound as she moved.

My wife's face brightened when she saw me, but her smile was soon wiped clean as her new mistress entered the dungeon.

"Gordon," she exclaimed angrily, "what is she doing here?"

My face reddened as I glanced at the dominatrix to see how she would react to the revelation that her client was not a willing participant. Her smile deepened and took on a smug look as if she'd expected this turn of events from the start.

"I am Lady Noir, and it would seem I was led here on false pretences." She turned to me with a stern countenance, melting away my confidence. Then she spun around and approached my restrained wife, leaning in to whisper something into her ear. Alicia's furious expression softened somewhat as she whispered back. I didn't catch any of the exchange, and it was over before I could move closer.

"Sir, you should know that identity theft is a serious offence. My organisation has a strict policy regarding those who sign up on another's behalf." Her polite rebuke stunned me momentarily - "sir" sounded strange coming from her. It also made me pale at the thought of what she'd think of my former profession - I was no stranger to identity fraud, and I mean that with no pun intended. But what was this policy she mentioned? She slipped out of the room momentarily while I was distracted, then returned and continued.

"I must request that you allow me to detain you as per the terms of our arrangement," she commanded firmly. What terms? Surely she can't mean those rubbish terms and conditions that everyone clicks a box to agree to before submitting the web form. No one reads those! My thoughts faded into the background as she strolled towards me and began to pull my hands behind my back. I resisted, twisting around to face her just as she rammed a two-pronged device painfully into my ribs. I recognised it immediately as my taser from the storeroom next door.

A surge of high-voltage electricity tore through my body and I collapsed, limbs twitching uncontrollably.

***

I watched Lady Noir stun my husband with the taser I'd told her about, a broad grin settling on my face. He'd had that coming for a long time. She proceeded to grab some rope from the floor and bind his body together with amazing dexterity. This was a woman who knew her craft. His legs were bound firmly together and his arms folded behind his back and tied to a hook on the ceiling. She left that rope slack so she could lift him to his feet when he regained consciousness.

She worked the rope with masterful efficiency, using all sorts of loops and cinches to make the restraints as effective as possible. There was no doubt in my mind that my backstabbing husband wouldn't be able to so much as wriggle without her aid. It made me jealous in a way - sometimes I wished I could tie up my husband with such ease and confidence. Her adept skill certainly put my husband's own rope work to shame.

"Now then," she said, turning back to face me. "We have an appointment to fulfil."

My breath caught in my throat. "But you told me that Gordon is technically your client, since he filled out the form..." I trailed off as I realised with a sickening jolt the trouble I had gotten myself into. I had just assisted this unknown domineering woman in detaining my husband, the only person who might have prevented her from going too far, and now she had free reign over both of us while we were fully restrained and powerless. She'd played us both!

"I only work with female submissives, my dear, and you are just too gorgeous a client for me to pass up." The jubilation I'd felt at our false triumph deserted me. This woman was crazy! Surely she would lose her job if she went through with this.

"I'm not a submissive!" I protested stubbornly. She looked at me with great amusement, clearly holding back a laugh.

"And I suppose you were just locked into this ingenious chair for an evening snooze," she replied, her voice dripping with satire. "You're caught in my web now, darling," she assured me sweetly. "Now you'll remain my plaything until I say otherwise."

And with that she prised open my mouth and propped a large spider gag between my teeth, stretching and holding my mouth wide open with its four curved metal arms gripping the skin around my mouth. She wrapped its straps tightly around my immobilised head, ensuring my gaping mouth was locked open in resemblance of a silent, horrific scream - which, to be honest, wasn't entirely cosmetic. Her latex-clad digits were making me feel like I was in a dentist's chair. I could only hope she wasn't planning to tamper with my precious white teeth.

Within seconds, drool was slipping off my tongue and over my bared chest, making me tremble with humiliation. Every time I tried to twist the firm ring of the gag into a better position, the metal arms dug into my skin and rendered my attempts ineffective. She stuck two rubber fingers into my mouth and scooped out some of my saliva, sucking it off her fingers as if to taste it.

"Mhmm, you have a lovely clean mouth," she informed me in a deliberately seductive tone. I was disgusted. I didn't want this self-indulgent power freak anywhere near me, and especially not sticking her fetish gloves in my mouth. Who knew what else those ebony fingers had played with?

She started to come onto me - literally, swinging one leg over mine and leaning in. She was going to kiss me! I tried to protest, but my tongue couldn't reach the top of my mouth, so only unintelligible grunts escaped. I shook as violently as I could against the restraints, but I only succeeded in choking myself slightly. Then her tongue was in my open mouth, licking my teeth and rubbing against my own writhing muscle. I wanted to vomit, but I knew I would only choke myself further and anger this tyrannical woman who was in control.

Our lips locked, and I felt her moist lips sliding over mine. I tasted the sweet strawberry tang of her lip gloss and breathed in an intoxicating aromatic fragrance. Suddenly the tongue didn't seem so bad. Certainly more pleasant than an oral exam by a dentist. I reluctantly began responding to her passion, embracing her tongue with mine as she continued to explore every inch of my mouth.

"Alicia!" Gordon's voice cut through the spell as I realised what I was doing. Lady Noir withdrew from me to face him and I breathed a sigh of relief. Gordon's tone troubled me, though. He sounded like he was appalled at the intimate kiss he'd just seen us engaged in.

Isn't this what you wanted,

I thought bitterly.

"Nice of you to rejoin us, Mr. Massey," she addressed him casually, smoothly dismounting my leg and approaching the corner where he lay. I noticed a slightly damp patch of skin where she'd been perched, and instantly realised two things: she was naked beneath that leather corset, and she was getting off on this!

She pulled on the support rope with surprising strength, hauling Gordon off the ground. She tied off the excess rope when he was just on tiptoes, his folded arms lifted slightly off his back.

"Yes, I know who you are," she continued. "A man of your wealth is never far from the public eye. I hadn't heard about your lovely new companion, though..." She smiled alluringly at me, making me blush.

"She's my wife," Gordon snapped back.

"Oh, how romantic. And I do thank you for warming her up for me," she said, clearly staring at my stiff nipples, still moist from Gordon's suckling earlier. "Well, I'm sure you won't mind if I continue our arrangement as you intended. You do have prime seating." She laughed to herself, clearly enjoying teasing him. In that position, he really would be wishing for a seat soon. "But I must inform you that I can only abide a silent audience. Any last words, Mr. Massey?"

"I'll see you fired for this..." he muttered angrily.

"Oh, I don't think so. I'm only doing my job as you agreed to it, dear." And with that she took a rubber inflatable gag and popped it into his mouth like a pacifier, swiftly pumping it up until even his moans were stifled. She reached up and stroked his bulging cheek with her lustrous black hand in a mockingly sombre farewell before turning back to me.

"Now, my pet, where were we..." She went to sweep my hair from my face and I recoiled, scrunching up my face. She leaned back, surveying me critically with her dark eyes. "Well, if that's the way you want to play it..."

She glanced over at Gordon, eyeing him up thoughtfully. Strolling over to him, she patted down his sides and located a lump in his pocket. The chair's remote. She yanked it out triumphantly, spinning it around in her hands like a spider with a fly. She pressed a button, and I found my legs lifting up towards my chest. The leg rests continued to ascend until my legs were held almost vertically in a wide V-shape. Another button press later and my arms were dragged away from my sides and over my head, outstretched above me like a diver.

I endured these mechanical movements uneasily, ever fearful that the chair would stretch me past my limits and leave me in excruciating pain. But if my bondage exploits with Gordon each weekend were good for anything, it was stretching my limits. I found that my new position was more uncomfortable for my mind than for my actual body.

Lady Noir brandished her hard rubber cane, looking sternly at me through the gap between my legs.

"-eashe," I managed, trying to form the word "please" without a tongue. But my pleading expression was drowned by her deep, unfathomable blue eyes.

"You may address me as Lady," she admonished. "And don't talk with that gag in, love, you make no sense at all."

She turned her attention away from my face and rapped the sole of my foot with her cane. A shameful squeak escaped my gaping mouth. My face burned as she turned to look at me with that bemused smile she expressed so naturally. Another whip with the cane, in exactly the same spot. This time only a rush of air left my gaping mouth as I gasped heavily.

She continued to hit the same mark with uncanny precision, each sting compounding with the last. I had to keep relaxing my muscles, as with each impact I was clenching my legs involuntarily and they were beginning to cramp. I watched the cane lift and fall onto my foot out of the corner of my eye. With each hit, my hope of escaping this cruel dominatrix unscathed was whittled down ever smaller.