by Van © 2020


Dramatis Personæ


Three months into Skye's apprenticeship...

Despite the endless drudgery of Skye's Dominatrix Apprenticeship, despite Pallavi's demanding duties as a newly promoted Assistant Manager, and despite Harper's grueling hours as a shop girl, on occasion the girl's found the time (meaning made the time) to indulge their friends-with-Top/Bottom-privileges relationship.  One fine day, on one of those rare occasions when the gods smiled and all three of their schedules synced up... they did.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Lacey's Lair ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Pallavi was impressed.  Skye was wearing one of her new "role-playing costumes."  Pallavi, on the other hand, was naked and tied up.  Specifically, her arms were folded and lashed behind her back with her upper arms pinned to her sides in a classic box-tie.  And the box-tie was of the "mean" variety, with her wrists crossed and raised above the horizontal.  She was also wearing a ball-gag, but it was around her neck in necklace-mode, which meant she was able to share her opinion of Skye's ensemble.

"Nice threads," Pallavi observed.  "I'm impressed."

Skye grinned.  "I call this my Dominatrix-One-Point-Oh outfit," she explained, striking a pose.  The outfit in question was comprised of high-heel, lace-up-the-front knee-boots—skintight tights—wrist/forearm bracers—and a very French-cut "playsuit," a strapless combination corset, bikini-bottom, and support bra.  Everything was black.  The boots, bracers, and playsuit were leather, and the tights were cotton-spandex.  Skye was also wearing a black leather collar with cute little steel studs.  Mustn't forget the collar!  Her ginger hair was in a topknot-ponytail and the end bobbed behind her head.  And there was significant freckled cleavage bulging above the top of the playsuit's nearly inadequate cups.

"Wicked-sexy," Pallavi amended her opinion.

Skye disagreed.  Mistress had a dozen more elaborate, stylish, and very kinky uniforms in her walk-in closet, all of which were truly wicked-sexy.  "This is cobbled together from off-the-rack items and is merely 'sexy.'  Granted the playsuit's a little, uh, unusual, but it's still off-the-rack.  You just need to know where to find the right rack."

Harper agreed with Pallavi, but at the moment a super-tight panel-ball-gag was plugging her mouth and pressing against her lips, and it most emphatically was not in necklace-mode.  She was unable to share her opinion.  In fact, her ability to make any sort of verbal noise was severely curtailed.  Like Pallavi, Harper was naked; however, rather than being box-tied, she was lying on her back on the rack of Mistress Monjeau's super-scary Torture Chamber with her bare feet trapped in the device's insidious stocks and her wrists buckled in wide, well-padded, suspension-style leather cuffs linked to the rack's drum and winch.  And Skye (her supposed friend) had tightened the rack to the level of Dramatic Distress (but short of actual pain).

"What else ya got?" Pallavi inquired.

Skye realized her BFF was referring to her growing collection of "working uniforms" in the closet of her current sleeping chamber, the bedroom down the hall from Mistress' master bedroom.  "Let's see...  Candy-Striper I already told you guys about."  She started ticking off her remaining professional wardrobe on the fingers of her left hand.  "SSG, S-J-SG, SM, CG, SW, and...  That's about it for now."

Pallavi raised an eyebrow.  The acronyms (assuming they were acronyms) meant nothing to her.

Skye laughed.  "Okay, okay..."  She ticked her fingers, again.  "Sexy School Girl, which is more or less a Hogwarts uniform—Sexy Japanese School Girl, one of those cute little sailor-suits—Sexy Maid, in the traditional black and white, of course, with lots of frilly lace and a super-short skirt—Cat Girl—and Sexy Witch."

"Cat Girl?"

"More or less this outfit..."  Skye indicated her current attire with a graceful gesture.  "...but with black opera gloves, a long, furry black tail in the back, and a head-band with furry cat-ears.  Think Sexy Catwoman costume."

"'That's redundant," Pallavi purred.  "Catwoman is always sexy."

"It goes without saying," Skye agreed.  "And yet, I said it.  Anyway, my Catgirl is Mistress' homage to anime, not DC Comics."

Pallavi grinned.  "And Japanese School Girl isn't anime?"

"Whatever," Skye shrugged.  "Anyway, Mistress and I are currently collaborating on a design for a Medieval Female Bandit."

Once again, Pallavi cocked an eyebrow.  "Medieval Female Bandit?"

"Think Disney Princess Merida from Brave crossed with Robin Hood's Maid Marion," Skye amplified.  "Mistress doesn't go in for a lot of costume melodrama.  Where would it end?  But she does think I'd look good as a 'boy' member of Robin's Merry Band.  By the way, there are some really good cos-play costume vendors online.  Anyway, enough chit-chat."  She focused on Harper and the rack.  "On with the show."

This was the girls' third time borrowing Mistress' Torture Chamber so Skye could show off her rapidly expanding skill set.  Mistress didn't mind, as long as the chamber hadn't been previously booked, they left everything where they found it, and cleaned up any bodily fluids.  Needless to say, Pallavi and Harper had been very impressed on their first visit, the way Skye had been impressed on her first visit.

Trip One had been an hour-long tour, with Pallavi and Harper naked, box-tied, and padding along on rope leashes, the ends of which were in Skye's right hand.  Apprentice Gilroy had been wearing "civies," meaning sneakers, shorts, and a white tank-top.  She led her wide-eyed, terrified, very impressed guests/prisoners from device to device, explaining the proper use of each of the furnishings/torture-engines in full detail, but not actually using any of it on her friends.  A picnic lunch in Mistress' backyard followed, with Skye feeding a still naked and bound Pallavi and Mistress (wearing jeans and a blouse, like her apprentice) feeding a naked and bound Harper.

Trip Two found Pallavi and Harper naked (of course), with Pallavi locked in the pillory, bent at the waist with her neck and wrists in the appropriate openings, and Harper strapped to the St. Andrew's Cross in a standing spread-eagle.  Skye then announced she was going to leave them to contemplate their sinister surroundings for two full hours!  As would be expected, they complained bitterly, but twin ball-gags kept the noise to an inarticulate minimum.  A full hour later (not two)... the pathetic prisoners were released and enjoyed a long, post-languishing recuperative bask in Mistress' dry sauna, along with their hostess/torturer.  This, in turn, was followed by a very pleasant dinner in Mistress' dining room.  Skye, Pallavi, and Harper remained naked, but Mistress felt motivated to show off and wore a truly gorgeous, full-length, formal gown of velvety-black, shirred silk.  The girls agreed that Mistress was absolutely gorgeous!  It was an evening to remember.

And this was Trip Three... and Skye had plans.

"Now," Skye said with a coy smile, "you guys know a lot more goes on down here than people getting tied up, chained up, or strapped to something and left to languish, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Pallavi acknowledged (nervously).

Harper blinked her big blue eyes a few times, then nodded.  Her friends took that as a "yes."

"Well..."  Skye's smile turned from coy to evil.  "This time, let's do something a little more active, okay?"

"What something?" Pallavi demanded with a frown.  She's not gonna torture us, is she?  No, of course not!  Then, Pallavi's eyes widened as the probable truth dawned.  She wants to do... stuff to us!  Truth be told, Pallavi's "shock" was less than genuine, but she had to play her part in the melodrama.  "No!"

Harper tugged on her wrist-bonds (as best she could), squirmed on the rack, and her blue eyes popped even wider.  Her friends took that as a "no."

"You don't even know what I have planned," Skye chuckled.

"I don't need to know," Pallavi huffed.  "We don't need to know.  The answer is no!"  You're bein'... evil!"  Over the top?  Yes.  Pallavi chalked it up to the unsettling setting of the Torture Chamber.

Still smiling, Skye strolled to a nearby rope rack, selected two dangling coils of hemp rope, and returned.  "Kneel," she ordered, pointing to a burlap-covered cushion resting on the tiled floor at the foot of the rack.

"Why?" Pallavi demanded (whined), but knelt on the cushion as ordered.  "Hey!"

With deft competence, Skye had crossed Pallavi's ankles, and was now using one of coils to lash them together and link them to the back of her box-tie, crafting a loose, kneeling hogtie.  She then looped the second coil around Pallavi's neck, under her hair, twice, tied a non-compacting knot, then tied the other end through a conveniently placed iron ring set in the foot end of the rack.

Pallavi found herself naked, kneeling in a hogtie, tethered by the neck, and staring at Harper's bare feet, inches from her nose and trapped in the heavy wooden stocks.  She was grateful for the cushion under her knees, and for the significant slack in the hogtie and leash; but, understandably, was apprehensive.

Meanwhile, Skye had taken a step back and was standing with her hands on her hips and a somewhat disturbing smile curling her lips.  She was the very picture of a gloating villainess, in the opinion of her captive audience of two.  "Now, best-friend-o'mine," Skye addressed Pallavi, "I want you to lick the soles of my other best friend's feet and suck on her toes.  We already know she's ticklish, but this is our chance to determine exactly how ticklish.  Mistress calls this sort of fun 'foot worship.'  I don't see the attraction, personally, but then, I won't be the one doing the licking and sucking."

Pallavi stared at her villainous BFF in horror.  "Are you insane?  Lick her feet?"  She turned and stared at the feet in question, then turned her horrified gaze back to Skye.  "Gross!  They're dirty!  You made us walk down here naked and tied up and... they're dirty!"

"If you do a good job," Skye purred, "they won't be dirty for long."

"This is mean!" Pallavi complained.

On the rack, Harper lifted her head and nodded emphatically.  "Mrrr!"  Her friends took that as a "yes!"

Pallavi turned her pouting face back towards the rack (and Harper's waiting feet).  Over the top of the stocks she could see her fellow captive's gagged and horrified face.  By the way, Pallavi could also see Harper's pussy, dark-blond pubic bush, flat tummy, and boobs, and she noted that her friend's nipples were pointing.  Obviously, they were worried.  Pallavi realized her own nipples were also pointing, and mentally ordered them to stop.  They ignored her.
riding crop!
Meanwhile, Skye had strolled to the Torture Chamber's extensive collection of whips, floggers, canes, paddles, etc., and was returning with a black leather riding crop.  She resumed her former wide-legged, gloating stance, then gave her left palm a demonstrative smack with the business-end of the crop.  "Ow!" she winced, fluttering her left hand.  She then let the crop dangle by its safety-strap and rubbed her palms together.  "That smarts."  Her smile returned and she locked eyes with her BFF.  "Don't make me use this thing on your big butt."  She nodded towards an ominous piece of wooden furniture off in the corner.  "Or... would you rather ride Mistress' horse for a couple of hours?"

Pallavi turned her horrified head and stared at the torture device in question.  Straddling the horse's wedge-shaped business-end with her pussy taking her full weight would not be fun... which, of course, was why it was called a torture device.  She knew Skye was just being, uh, theatrical, but still...  Riding the horse couldn't be that bad, could it? she mused.  Not for a few minutes, anyway.  She shifted her gaze back to the fluttering end of the riding crop... then locked eyes with her BFF.

"You're really gonna make me lick her gross, smelly feet and stinky toes?" Pallavi muttered.

"Well, when you put it that way," Skye smiled, "yes.  It's my homework assignment from Mistress.  She thinks you guys are ready for this sort of thing, by the way, and having you available as training aids will expedite my progress."

Pallavi's pout was heartbreakingly pathetic (and incredibly cute, in Skye's opinion).  "If I get toe-jam stuck between my teeth I'm sending you the dental hygienist's bill."

"Mistress will write it off as a business expense," Skye chuckled, then motioned with the riding crop.  "Chop-chop!  Lick-lick!  If your mouth gets dry, I have an ice-cold bottle of spring water in that Yeti-brand cooler over by the door."

Pallavi sighed, leaned close to Harper's left foot, wet her pouting lips with her apprehensive tongue... sighed again... and set to work.

"Nrrrrr!" Harper squealed in response, squirming her feet and wiggling her toes.  That made them moving targets, but Pallavi's nimble tongue persevered.

Skye watched the delightfully mischievous tableau she'd crafted for several long, wet, slobbery seconds... then heaved a very self-satisfied sigh.  "It's good to be the Dominatrix," she announced.


Two Moms, a Domme, & a Maid

A week after "The Heinous Foot-Licking Incident" down in the Torture Chamber, Lacey invited her good friends Jodi Gilroy and Kanoa Anuhea over to her lair to spend the day.

At the moment, Lacey and her guests were completing a long, invigorating session of nude power-yoga out on the grass out in the backyard.  It was a cloudless day, but the sun was only now starting to clear the tops of the cedar border, so they were still enjoying dappled shade... but not for long.

"And... we're done," Lacey announced.  The yogis relaxed from their final pose.

The trio were all in excellent shape, but the routine had been challenging and they were sweating and breathing heavily (a little), and their naked forms were flushed.  It was most noticeable on Lacey, with her fair complexion, and least noticeable on Kanoa, with her all-over tan.  They padded across the lawn to the deck, Lacey handed out towels, they gave themselves brisk rubdowns... then settled onto the soft cushions of three of the four cast iron chairs grouped around a round café table.

With perfect timing (and because she'd been watching from the kitchen window), the kitchen door opened and Skye appeared, carrying a lacquered tray with a very pretty traditional Japanese tea set.

Oh by the way, Skye was the only person on the deck not wearing her birthday suit.  Much to her pouting displeasure, Mistress had ordered her apprentice to model one of her Dominatrix Uniforms for the duration of her mothers' visit.  Specifically, it was her Sexy Maid outfit, which Skye didn't find to be at all humiliating.  It included:

maid cap

maid dress

maid apron
         ●  Panties, but no bra.

         ●  A white, frilly "cap" with cute little decorative black ribbons on either end.  It was actually a hairband with the cap attached.

         ●  A traditional black and white dress with short, puffy sleeves and a tight waist.  It was hemmed mini-skirt short, and included crinoline underskirts.  Somewhat surprisingly, the lace-lined, scoop neckline revealed only a peek of cleavage, but that was by design.  Mistress' stated goal was for Skye to be "cute and sexy, but not slutty."

         ●  A  frilly white apron decorated with black buttons and a pair of cute little black bows that evoked the bows on the cap.
         ●  A  pair of white stockings held up by black-and white lace garters, each with a white lace rosette and yet another cute little black bow.

         ●  A  pair of black, high-heel pumps.  Skye also also had a pair of black Sketchers back in the closet, for working occasions, but this was a special occasion, hence the less comfortable but more decorative pumps.

It was humiliating!

Skye knew her moms would gush about how cute she looked (and they did) and Mistress would grin and enjoy her discomfiture (and she did), so she'd complained bitterly when Mistress ordered her to maidify herself.
slave chain set
This was insubordination, of course, so Mistress accessorized her maid/apprentice with disciplinary jewelry in the form of a complete set of shiny steel "slave chains," in the form of a collar, manacles, and shackles, all interconnected by clinking, clattering chains.  Everything was reasonably heavy, but the chains afforded sufficient slack to allow a surly maid (like Skye) to be punished without significantly impeding her ability to perform domestic drudgery... or most drudgery, anyway.  High dusting would be iffy at best.  Luckily for Skye, the onerous chains were only a mildly irritating inconvenience when it came to preparing and serving tea.

Skye's moms had already seen their darling daughter in her servile outfit, but still felt it necessary to repeat their gushing delight at her " adorable" and "delightful" appearance.  Mistress also repeated her gloating smile, adding to Skye's undeserved abasement.

Skye carried the tea service to the table, carefully set it down, then paused to consider protocol.  Normally, Mistress would have precedence, but her moms were Mistress' guests, so should they be served first?  She decided it was best to wait for guidance.

Mistress sensed Skye's dilemma.  "Serve your mothers first, darling," she ordered.

"Yes, Mistress," Skye responded quietly, executing a chained curtsey.  (Either that or she muttered "Bite me," but it had probably been "Yes, Mistress.")

It was green tea, the perfect après yoga beverage.  Skye's mothers smiled sweetly as their darling daughter, dominatrix-in-training, and cute-little-captive-maid did the honors.  Skye poured a third cup for Mistress, eyed the fourth, presently empty cup on the tray, then turned and batted her eyes at mistress, a pathetic little pout on her pursed lips.  Upping the ante, she gave a lingering glance of longing at the fourth, presently empty chair at the table... then back to Mistress, continuing to pout in a pitiable manner.

"Silly girl." Mistress purred, "stop sulking."  She gestured towards her lap with a graceful flip of the wrist.  "You can share my cup."

Skye nearly looked to her moms for support, but stopped herself in time.  Sitting in Mistress' lap in front of her maternal units was embarrassing, but at least she wasn't naked.  Mistress and her Moms were naked, but she wasn't naked, so instead of embarrassing it was only... mortifying?  Anyway, Skye settled onto Mistress' firm, smooth lap (squirming a little to achieve a proper seat), then accepted a sip of delicious green tea from Mistress' cup.

Mistress held out her cup to be refilled by Skye's biological mom... enjoyed a sip of her own, then set the cup down on the table.  Her smile brightened, she hugged her apprentice/maid, and planted a kiss on her frowning mouth.

Skye squirmed and tugged on her chains in response.  "Mistress!  Please!" she whined.

"Don't be whiny, young lady," Jodi chided her daughter.

"Nobody likes a petulant maid," Kanoa added, and all three bare-naked ladies chuckled.

Skye did not chuckle.  She glowered at her moms (but not Mistress).

Meanwhile, Mistress was smiling at her naked guests.  "Skye," she purred, her trademark coy smile curling her lips, "I believe you're aware that both of your mothers are my clients, are you not?"

Jodi and Kanoa blushed like the proverbial schoolgirls, then glared at Mistress.  (Skye, however, did not glare at Mistress.)

Skye heart was pounding and she had to remind herself that breathing was a good thing.  Then, she regained a modicum of composure and rounded on her Mistress.  "That was uncalled for!"

Mistress was still enjoying Jodi and Kanoa's poorly concealed mortification.  "Mind your manners, darling," she cautioned her apprentice.

Skye continued sulking.  "Yes, I'm aware they're your clients," she huffed.  "But why do you have to bring it up?"  She squirmed in Mistress' lap.  "It's... yucky."

Mistress laughed.  Jodi and Kanoa did not.

"I brought it up to reassure you," Mistress continued.  "Also, I want you to know I will never require you to observe any of their sessions, nor will I require your participation."

"Ya think?" Skye shuddered, then belatedly added "Mistress?"

"In fact," Mistress added, "when your mothers do have sessions, I'll make sure you aren't even aware that they're on the property."

"Thank you, Mistress," Skye muttered, her lips still pursed in a pouting frown.  Then, her green eyes widened.  "Wait.  You're not gonna start locking me in the Special Guest Bedroom again, are you?"

"No, dear," Mistress chuckled.  "I'll make sure you're locked away elsewhere.  I have several hidden chambers I haven't yet shown you."

"Oh, in that case..."  Skye heaved a sigh, rolled her eyes, and rested her head on Mistress' right breast.

"We thought it was important you should know, Honeybunch," Mother Gilroy explained, smiling at her daughter.

"So you won't worry about being involved," Mother Anuhea added.

Both mothers smiled and nodded.

Mistress smiled, then took a sip of tea and held the cup so her apprentice could also take a sip.  "When the tea is gone, we'll adjourn to the sauna," she purred, then gave Skye a hug.  "And you can get on with your housekeeping chores."

Skye heaved a sigh, then clinked and clattered off Mistress' lap and to her shackled, high-heel-clad feet.  "In that case," she sighed, "I better go turn on the sauna... Mistress."  She leaned close and kissed her biological mother on her smiling lips... then clinked and clattered to her non-biological mother and kissed her on her smiling lips.  "Later," she sighed, then shuffled to the kitchen door.

So... Skye mused, shaking her head and shuddering, no need to worry about stumbling across one or both of my maternal units naked, bound, gagged and in some hideous predicament.  What a relief.

The three naked mature/elderly beauties at the cafe table watched the maid-in-chains depart.

"Delightful," Lacey purred.  Jodi and Kanoa smiled and nodded in agreement.


Two Dommes & a Flogger

Six months into Skye's apprenticeship, Mistress shutdown her Lifestyle Consulting Services business for a week and ordered the adorable/delightful ginger to "Go home!"

Why?  In Mistress opinion (the only one that mattered), Skye had earned a brief vacation and Mistress Monjeau had important business elsewhere.  Towards that end, Lacey was spending seven days at Roxanne Vos' spacious, Mid-Century Modern ranch house (and Lifestyle Consulting Services business).  It was only a thirty minute drive from Lacey's own lair.

At the moment, Lacey was in a cell in Roxy's basement (meaning her dungeon).

Lacey insisted on a tasteful, understated decor in her working spaces, but Roxy believed things should be a tad more... traditional.  Towards that end, years before, when Skye's "Viking Queen" had subdivided her large basement into a labyrinth, she'd specified the use of rough-faced, interlocking concrete blocks, the kind usually used for rustic retaining walls.  Concrete flags covered the floors, and heavy wooden doors with "hand-forged" hardware were used throughout.   She topped it all off with "hand-forged" iron rings set in the walls and ceiling—added iron manacles, shackles, and collars—furnished the cells with "historical reproductions" of the usual racks, horses, pillories, etc., etc.—and the illusion was complete.

It took very little suspension-of-disbelief for Roxy's clients to believe they were the prisoners of a Viking Queen, Medieval Baroness, or Victorian Lady who'd inherited a fully equipped dungeon from some villainous ancestor—especially when Roxy was decked out in the appropriate costume.

Lacey's tastes might be different, but she was impressed with Roxy's efforts and had told her so on many occasions.  At the moment, however, showering compliments on her hostess was not an option because, at the moment, Mistress Monjeau was bound and gagged Prisoner Monjeau.  By way of details, Lacey was...
●  Naked.  Nude.  Starkers.  Topless and bottomless.  No clothes.  Not even a stitch.  Ready to skinny-dip.

●  Up on her toes with her wrists in fleece-lined manacles, her ankles in fleece-lined shackles, and taut chains linking her to the ceiling and floor in a very stringent standing spread-eagle.

●  Gagged by a wooden bit wrapped in leather and secured with a strap and buckle at the nape of her neck and under her tousled, raven-black hair.

●  And finally, she was missing Roxy, who had abandoned her to languish in her cruel predicament.
Oh-by-the-way, Lacey's nipples were clamped in "hand-forged" metal clips and linked to a taut, lightweight chain that, in turn, was linked to an ingenious (and insidious) medieval-looking device.  It was a tall wooden framework that supported a pulley, a wire basket, a skull-sized, water-rounded rock wrapped in iron bands, and a complicated series of nested brass gears.  Cutting to the chase, the thin chain attached to the nipple-clamps passed through the pulley and geared mechanism, and supported the dangling, iron-banded rock!  Lucky for Lacey, however, the weight of the rock was counteracted by a wire basket filled with just enough quantity of ice cubes to equal the weight of the rock.  Ingenious indeed!

However... ice melts!  Especially in a stifling hot dungeon cell.

The ice was melting into a wooden bucket resting on the floor.  And with every drip... drip... drip... into the bucket, the tug of the clamps on Lacey's nipples slooowly increased!  Also, the arrangement provided a strong disincentive to squirm, struggle, or shift her weight.  Drip... drip... drip...  Her nipples were already beginning to stretch and her breasts were ever-less globe-like and more cone-like.

Drip... drip... drip...

Fortunately, Lacey knew the mechanism had a hidden feature.  A spring-loaded clamp would lock the chain in place when a preset tension was achieved.  Roxy had explained the workings of the device during a previous visit (and Lacey had promptly ordered a similar, more modern-looking version of the "Nipple Stretching Rack" for her own dungeon).  Unfortunately, Lacey didn't know exactly where on the scale from Ow! to EYOW! Roxy had set the the mechanism's governor/regulator.  Lacey didn't know exactly how far her nipples and boobs would be stretched before the gears locked.

Drip... drip... drip...

The ice cubes weren't the only things dripping, by the way.  The air in the cell truly was stifling (a little), and Lacey's pale, perfect, pinioned physique glistened with sweat.

Just then, the cell door creaked open and Roxy returned to the scene of her crime—and she'd changed into one of her costumes: a pair of brown leather boots, a linen miniskirt/kilt, and a brown leather corset/bustier.  She was showing a lot of firm, tan skin, and her long blond hair was parted down the middle and plaited into a pair of Viking braids, the ends of which were bound with brown leather thongs.  Between her strong, tan thighs—strong, tan arms—significant tan cleavage—and general medieval appearance, Roxy was looking very hot... if you're into gorgeous barbarian women who hold your naked, bound, and gagged fate in their cruel hands.

"Miss me?" Roxy quipped, blue eyes sparkling and a wicked smile curling her luscious lips.  By the way, a brown leather flogger with a braided handle and twenty or more long, thin, ribbon-like thongs was in her right hand.

Drip... drip... drip...

Lacey nodded at the Nipple Stretching Rack mechanism.  "Mrrrpfh!"

"Don't have a cow," Roxy chuckled as she strolled to the mechanism in question.  "This thing should have already locked."  She lifted the ice basket... and as a consequence, the iron-bound rock did not drop and further stretch Lacey's poor nipples and boobs.  "There, see?" Roxy purred.  "Your girls are stretched as far as they're going to stretch."

Lacey stared daggers at her barbaric hostess.  Maybe the damn thing had locked, but her boobs were disturbingly conical, her nipples somewhat elongated, and she didn't like it!  "Mrrrf!" she huffed.  Actually, Lacey's nips and tits weren't really in distress (much), but it was the principle of the thing.

"Such language," Roxy chuckled as she stepped forward and gazed at the nips and tits in question.  "Very pretty," she purred, then locked eyes with her victim/guest.  "As I recall, 'very pretty' was your exact, stated opinion of my boobage and pussy when you had me strapped to your Mad Doctor Table down in your 'Bondage Clinic,' right before you scurried off to fetch your adorable little apprentice."

By the way, that was the main reason for Lacey's visit to her colleague's domain, to give Roxy a chance for payback.  It was only fair.  There was another reason as well.

"I've given your proposition careful thought," Roxy said, "and I agree to be Skye's professional godmother."

Lacey smiled, meaning hideously grimaced around the leather-covered bit cleaving her mouth.  Roxy was agreeing to participate in Skye's training, just as Lacey had requested!

"I realize you're not gonna let me play with her for at least a year," Roxy grinned, "but that will give us plenty of time to work out a joint training program.

Lacey nodded her gagged head.  It was a good idea for an apprentice to gain experience with more than one dominatrix.  Lacey, would always be Skye's Mistress, of course, but periodic month-long visits to Roxy would further widen the delightful/adorable ginger's horizons.

"Now," Roxy purred, "on with the retribution."  She transferred the flogger to her left hand, then smiled, reached out with her right index finger... and gave the chain linking Lacey's tits to the rock and ice mechanism a delicate, "playful" tap.

Lacey winced in response, then glared at her hostess/torturer.  The tap hadn't really hurt, but it had momentarily worsened her predicament.  Again, it was the principle of the thing.  Lacey had to glare at her hostess/torturer.

"You haven't yet introduced Skye to nipple-play, have you?" Roxy inquired.

Lacey shook her head (and continued glaring).

"I thought not," Roxy purred.  "Hmm...  I recently ordered several new pairs of clover-clamps.  Remind me to gift-wrap a set for the little darling... either that or you can wear them home."

Very funny, Lacey silently huffed as she watched Roxy turn and stroll behind her stretched and spreadeagled form... then stoically returned her gaze to the front.  One partial day of naked, helpless torment for poor Roxy... in exchange for a full week of similar playtime for Lacey!  A steep bargain, indeed, but a deal was a deal.

The things I do for my apprentice, Lacey silently lamented.  Then... she heard the tails of Roxy's flogger rattle together... there was a whistling sound... and her back exploded in stinging pain!



& the story entire...

The   End

Chapter 13

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