Lady Sally was ready to make her appearance. She squeezed into the rubber outfit, complementing it with a pair of shiny, black stiletto shoes with narrow, pointy tips. She looked and felt fabulous. There was something empowering about the touch of tight rubber clinging to her skin.
Her guests were waiting for her in the lounge, having been served tumblers of twenty-year-old matured Scottish whisky from Lady Sally's distillery on the Isle of Islay. Having never met before, they were chatting amongst one another nervously, both because of their lack of familiarity but also in anticipation of Lady's Sally's entrance, knowing they must soon submit themselves to whatever her wicked imagination might subject them to.
There were four invited guests, a duke, a bishop, a judge and a banker, carefully selected by Lady Sally from the many aristocratic or powerful personages who availed themselves of her very particular services. They were regular submissive gentlemen of hers, and had paid handsomely, either in money or special services, for the privilege. It was a once in a lifetime chance for submission to the premier dominatrix of the age whilst floating several thousand feet in the air on a dirigible. It was an opportunity that did not occur often, indeed not at all.
The teak doors pulled open, and Lady Sally showed herself. There was a collective gasp from the gentlemen. She looked stunning.
The purple latex clung to her skin, accentuating every voluptuous curve of her body. Her breasts had been squeezed into the tight rubber, making them firm and rounded, whilst her nipples stood out proud like little buds. Her sleek, black hair cascaded around her shoulders and looked striking against the purple rubber. Her blue eyes, heavily made-up with black kohl, threw a piercing gaze across at them.
They stood up to greet her, complimenting her effusively on her remarkable attire and distinctive look. They could not take their eyes off her.
Lady Sally smiled. It was remarkable how men dissolved into submission at the sight of her in rubber... at the sight of her in anything, really.
"Victoria, you must go to the cockpit and invite Captain Wyndham to join us. Now we are cruising, he should be free to leave Clarissa to pilot. Tell him that, as my airship pilot, it's fitting he should be acquainted with my guests."
Her maid scurried away to fetch the captain.
"Welcome to
The Corseted Domme,
gentlemen. I promise you an amazing expedition on the most magnificent flying machine of the age."
"With the most remarkable woman of the age too. You look fabulous, my dear," praised the man in a purple cassock and dog collar.
"Absolutely stunning, milady!" exclaimed another.
"You have excelled yourself, mistress."
"It's an incredible outfit, mistress. What is it made of?"
"I've informed you of my business ventures in the far east," she scolded. "Well, this is the material the
Rudston-Chichester Incorporated Rubber Company
produces at my Malaysian plantation. It's rather wonderful, don't you think?"
"It's incredibly sexy, mistress," the duke interrupted.
Lady Sally returned the compliment with a hard stare, and savage words, "I will not be insulted by such impertinences, slave. And look at that bulge in your trousers. I'll soon punish that out of you."
The humiliated gentleman was rescued by the arrival of Captain Wyndham, who looked anxious. He was an aviator and engineer and felt uncomfortable amongst Lady Sally's aristocratic circle of friends. He felt out of place amongst such finely dressed gentlemen in white jumper, flying trousers and boots, though he didn't sense Lady Sally was bothered.
"This is my airship pilot, Captain Wyndham. His skill in flying, and the technical wizardry of my design team, are what have made this day possible."
Captain Wyndham flushed with pride at the acknowledgment given by Lady Sally.
She introduced her guests to the captain.
There was the Bishop of Wetwang. Wetwang being a Peculier jurisdiction within the Province of York, which allowed the part of Yorkshire where Rudston Hall was situated to have its own bishopric. Naturally, on his institution, one of the Bishop's first calls was to the principal landowner and richest inhabitant within his jurisdiction. Needless to say, he soon succumbed to Lady Sally's charms. The fact she declared herself not to be a Christian but a follower of Paganism, a faith that believes in the divine feminine and the Goddess (which Lady Sally considered all men ought to adhere to), did not prevent him making regular visits to Rudston Hall under the pretence of trying to convert her.
There was Mr S T Medlicott, manager of the British operation of the Shanghai, Hitachi, Ipowima and Tokyo Bank. This bank managed Lady Sally's portfolio of multifarious investments across the world, from her brass mine in Zanzibar to her chain of bars and brothels in the wild west; from her many tea plantations in India and China to her silk emporium in Samarkand. Lady Sally had business interests across the whole world. Obviously, on being introduced to her wealthy client, it was not long before Mr Medlicott was serving Lady Sally's desires in other respects.
