“Does your slave know why you’re here?” Raquel’s hands tightened around her prize, holding her firmly in place. Not that Daria needed to be restrained to submit to the spiral. Not anymore. There was a time when Daria had fought like a rabid dog against Raquel’s indoctrination, but willpower is a finite resource. With a large silver vibrator strapped inside her sex, Daria had been taught to love the spiral.
In time, with sweat glistening on her clenching, spasming muscles, Daria learned the hot, kinky truth about herself: she was a fake domme. An imposter. She had been too weak to submit herself. Instead, she’d been a coward and wore the mask of a Mistress and fed her submissive desires by proxy.
It was a very successful deception. Daria had a collection of wedding bands and engagement rings from girls she’d broken and collared. But, of course, her cruel and seductive demeanor was nothing but a mirror for her own fantasies. She knew just what to whisper hotly in a girl’s ear; just how to hold her firmly by the neck and pull her into the strap on…because, as Madam Raquel made her admit, Daria wanted those things herself.
Madam Raquel bit Daria’s neck lightly and laughed at the mewling sounds the broken-Domme made. Then she signaled her alpha-slave, a muscular giant of a woman with a blonde flat-top, to go outside and retrieve Daria’s pet from the limosine. Any protest that might have been left in Daria died as Madam quickly pulled her sodden lace thong down her legs and pushed it past Daria’s eager lips.
What was the point? Daria was certain her slave already knew. Had to have known. What else could her Mistress have been getting up to all these months? The phone would ring then they’d set off to Raquel’s estate. Daria would disappear inside, only to return hours later reeking of sex and with a dull look in her eyes.
“Tell her.” Mistress Daria commanded as the two slaves returned. “You are no longer my slave. We are both now the property of Madam Raquel.” The woman nodded meekly, uncertain of what game they were playing but resolute in the obedience Daria had so relished instilling in her. The Amazon beckoned and a slave that was nude, save for a latex hood and stiletto heels, appeared leading a large, white German Shepard on a leash.
Mistress Raquel threw her legs across the arms of her ornate wooden throne, spreading her already-slick thighs. Daria crawled between them, catching only a glimpse of her former-slave kneeling as the dog was lead closer. Then, Mistress had a hold of her head once more and thrust her gushing sex into Daria’s mouth and nose, grunting as she watched the spectacle. The last sound Daria heard before her owner’s legs clapped shut around her ears, was the woman, who used to be her property, begging to be defiled.
Eek! You misspelled “throne” for “thrown” in the last paragraph.
Thanks for the heads-up! Fixed now.