Chapter 5
"I mean it, Sally," Elaine said, pulling the ice tray out of the refrigerator and clanking it down on the counter, "you should have been here."
Sally sat down on the kitchen chair and tried to resist a grin. She watched as her roommate banged half a dozen ice cubes out and wrapped one in an old blue wash cloth. Then she reached up under her shortie pajamas and popped the terry cloth bundle onto her ass.
"At least you could have worked for your half of the rent," the girl said, feeling the rush of cold hit her swollen, raw ass hole. "I'm telling you, Kid, that old man has got a pecker on him the size of that egg beater."
Sally still had to squelch a laugh. She couldn't possibly imagine that old Martin Painsworth was hung all that huge. He was such a little guy. A munchkin.
Elaine eased herself down onto the kitchen chair and looked at the clock. "Ow," she said when her throbbing buttocks touched ground zero. "I feel like I been sittting on the wrong end of a beanstalk."
"I'm sorry," Sally said, trying not to laugh out loud. "But I want you to know, you acted like a champ, fending that monster off and canceling our rent debt like that. You really were a brave warrior."
"I was a soft ass sucker is what I was,' Elaine said, feeling the waves of pain rolling over her like a panzer division. "And our rent debt has not been cancelled, not exactly. He would only agree to a postponement."
"I wish I could say and watch you take a Sitz bath, El," Sally said, gazing up at the clock, "but I gotta go."
"What time are they making you report for work at that place," the girl said, rocking on her reddened butt hole from side to side.
"She said anytime as long as I'm there by nine,' Sally said, strolling into the bedroom trying like hell to decide what to wear. "Are you sure you got this job?" Elaine said. Her roommate did not have a good track record as far as getting jobs was concerned. In fact, up until now, her track record hadn't even been on the track.
"Yes," Sally shouted back, "Miss Wilde gave me several tests, and I finally passed one, but it was the most important one."
"Shorthand?" Elaine shouted in again, rubbing the ice cube against her anus so hard it was beginning to melt into a little suspicious-looking puddle onto the kitchen chair.
"No," Sally said, wishing to hell her roommate would keep her questions to herself. She certainly didn't feel like explaining the whole thing.
"Typing?" the girl called back, intrigued as to how her roommate had finally scored a job that sounded as promising as this one without even taking a shorthand test.
"No," Sally cried back, "have you seen my navy blue pumps?"
"Sally," Elaine said, standing in her doorway, "what the hell did they test you for at this place ... what's it called?"
"Tip Top Temps, Inc., and they tested me on personality." Sally replied, grabbing a pair of stockings and casting around for her garter belt.
"Oh," her red-haired roommate replied, shifting her weight from one foot to another in an attempt to distract the pain. "Anything you want to talk about?"
"I would, El, you know that," Sally bed, "but I've got to get dressed. Where the hell is my pink bra?"
"So you can' dress and talk at the same time?" Elaine said, wishing to hell Painsworth's schlong were sticking up her friend's ass right about now.
Sally held her stockings in her hand and thought a moment. Perhaps she was being too secretive. After all, this was her best friend. The two of them had shared rent broken steam pipes, roaches, towel sets, boyfriends, and, possibly, Mr. Painsworth, if they ever fell into rent arrears again. That battery of tests that Whitney Wilde had given her yesterday was mysterious. Perhaps sharing it with her best friend might help her understand it better.
"I . ... I'm not sure where to begin," Sally said, shaking her head, "you know how desperate I am for a job. And this one pays plenty. I mean more money than I've ever made before."
"Sounds good, Sal," Elaine said, getting down on all fours to get comfortable so she could listen to her roommate's tale.
"I know. And Miss Wilde is a really nice lady. A little strange, okay."
"How strange?"
"For one thing, she looks like Vampira on downers."
"You said she was "beautiful."
"She is, El. She's also mysterious. And another thing."
"Huh?" the roommate replied, getting more intrigued by the moment.
"She's got a walk-in closet in the office."
"Office supplies?"
"Not exactly."
"What then," the red-haired girl was growing impatient with her recalcitrant addle-brained roommate.
"Clothes, lots of them. And equipment. English horseback riding equipment. Some jousting stuff too, like from the middle ages. And masks. Some stuff you can attach to bedposts. Boots, chains, chastity belts. And whips, El, lots of whips."
"What?" her friend replied, totally forgetting her pained ass-hole problem and coming to a thud down onto the floor. "Ouch!" she cried and bounced back up again.
"I better go now, or I'll be late for . ... " Sally tried to get up, but felt her whole frame forced back down onto the bed. When she looked up, she saw her roommate bearing down hard on her with all the strength in her arms and legs.
"Are you nuts?" she shouted into her face. "Don't you know what's going on there?"
"No," Sally said limply, "and I figure if I just keep my nose clean and don't ask any questions....."
"My God, Sally," Elaine said, spitting her words along with a generous spray of saliva, "you can't ignore what's happening."
"I am desperate," Sally said, trying to hurl her friend off her and down onto the floor. "Don't you know that? I haven't held a job for more than three and a half days in the two years since I graduated from Mavis Forrest. I am persona non gratis of the office world, Typhoid Mary of the water cooler set, the most unwanted, unwelcome, blackballed, unlucky nincompoop secretary walking around town. I have been looking for a job for so long. I have been pounding the pavement till my pumps look like shredded wheat. Now let me up and let me go to work before I bite you in the neck!!!!!!"
Elaine let go her grasp and stood up slowly.
She looked sadly down at her friend whose hair she had messed up and whose tan skirt she had wrinkled badly.
"I'm sorry, Sal," she said, feeling sheepish. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."
"I don't think I'm going to get hurt," Sally said, sitting up and swinging her feet down to the carpet. "I think maybe the customer is going to get hurt. Follow?" Elaine nodded her head, even though she didn't like the way it felt. She stood back and made room for her friend to pass by her.
Sally straightened her hair and checked herself in the mirror on the way out.
"One thing, Sal," Elaine said, following her friend to the door, "you've got to tell me where you're going to be. Every minute. Promise?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Mother," Sally said, reaching for the front door knob.
"I mean it, Sally," the red-head said, limping toward the door as fast as she could. "Please. Look. Just pretend we're spies or something. That you're on special assignment. That I'm the chief, running things back at the home office. Please promise me you'll call. That way, if anything happens . ... "
Elaine felt her voice fall off. In fact if anything did happen, she wouldn't have the slightest idea of what to do. But knowing that her friend was somewhere, anywhere, that would help. Just knowing would help her get through her day.
"Okay, El,' the blonde girl said, tossing her curly hair back and stepping into the hallway, "I promise."
She shut the door slowly behind her as her roommate waved to her through the slowly disappearing crack.
She headed for the elevator and after a short ten minute wait, finally got lucky. She hit the pavement feeling alert and ready for action. And, she had to confess, slightly optimistic. No good playing the Pollyanna bit too hard, though. She had a pretty good idea that what she was getting into might be a little shady. But she had been such a loser at everything sunny. Nothing had come to fruition, nothing, nothing, nothing. Maybe Tip Top was going to be her lucky break.
"Ah, Miss Pomeroy," the black-haired sphinx said to her when she stepped into the office, "Ready for your first assignment?"
"I hope so," Sally said, flinging her shoulder back onto the sofa.
"Good. I like your attitude." Whitney Wilde swiveled her chair around and stepped toward the infamous closet. She opened it a little ways, bent over and picked up an innocent-looking package, wrapped in brown paper and tied with ordinary string.
"This is for when you get there," the woman said, practically clicking her heels together. Then she pulled the wraparound dress she was wearing apart and let the whole thing slither to the floor. It lay there in a heap. And Miss Wilde stood in there in the middle of the room in a shiny black kid leather corset with silver studs lined up and down it, a skimpy black leather bikini top, and a black satin garter belt with mesh stockings disappearing down into black leather stiletto heeled boots.
"And this," she said, bending down to reveal a heaving heavily-endowed bust as she picked up a long, dangling piece of leather thong in one hand and a length of curled up rope in the other, " is for right now."
"What is this?" the girl asked, blinking her sea green eyes as fast as a strobe light.
"Our final test, Miss Pomeroy," the woman decreed, walking toward her and staring her down in her tracks.
"I hope I can pass it," Sally said, trying to fake a little grin.
"I hope so, too," the woman said, reaching into a little drawer in the closet and pulling out an evil-looking black mask. She slipped it on over her head and adjusted it so that only her eyes could be seen peeking out from behind it.
Sally couldn't stop blinking. She felt her knees turn to jelly and give way under her. Fortunately, she was standing in front of the sofa.
"Some people find this strange," the woman said, "but I see that it is largely a matter of point of view."
Sally felt herself nod, but could not seem to make contact with any other part of her body.
"What is arcane, bizarre, unthinkable, to some people, is the food of life to others. Don't you see that?"
Sally continued to nod. like a ventriloquist's dummy whose neck screws had worked loose.
The woman brought her black bull whip up over her head and gave it a loud crack. The tether end of the rein suspended momentarily in mid-air, then sailed downward. Sally tried to stop nodding, or at least, nod the other way, from left to right, but nothing doing. Her body just wasn't obeying her today.
"Now you will follow my orders," the black widow said, poising her poisonous stinger high up in the air again. "You will do exactly as I say, is that understood?"
Sally kept nodding.
"First of all, I want you to stop that insane nodding." The woman was speaking like the commandant of the imperial red army.
Sally nodded in agreement.
"I mean it." The haughty lady struck her hand down again and a loud leather report echoed throughout the room.
Sally established contact with her neck muscles somehow and froze them in place. She could see the woman advancing toward her and holding the rope out like a lasso. Then she whirled it around her head and threw it in Sally's direction. It came down around her shoulders like a gunny sack. She felt the rope bite into her flesh as Whitney tightened it. She wondered if she was going to be branded or just led to slaughter.
"Do as I say, following my instructions to the letter," the harsh voice pierced the room and Sally tried not to start nodding again.
"Take off your shoes," she hissed, holding tightly onto her end of the rope.
Sally reached down blindly and slipped off her navy blue pumps.
"Now, the skirt," the woman ordered.
Sally unzipped her skirt like a zombie and wiggled her hips hard to get it down without splitting it.
"The blouse," the woman said, in dead, earnest tones.
Sally fought the rope helplessly as she tried to get her blouse off. Then she felt Whitney's long fingernailed hand interrupt her Fumbling. It ripped her top right off her and sent it to the floor in shreds. She sat on the sofa and resisted a shiver as she stared down at her tiny bikini panties over her blue garter belt. Her pink bra, the one that made her tits look like two tight loaves of pumpernickel fresh out of the oven, looked so innocent and helpless under the bite of the tight rope.
"Lie down," the woman commanded as she yanked the rope in such a direction as to force her down onto the sofa.
Sally felt her body smash against the furniture as her head narrowly missed the opposite arm of the sofa. She had just never been so scared in her whole life.
"What do you she tried in short heaving gasps.
"Silent, Wench!" the woman screeched at her. "You will speak only when you are addressed. I will speak for the both of us. Do as I command."
Sally closed her eyes on that one and felt the lids burning. She had begun to shake hard and couldn't seem to stop doing that now.
"Onto your stomach," the black cowgirl said, between clenched teeth.
Sally rolled over and bit the upholstery with her chattering teeth. It tasted like the dirt of her own grave.
The black-clad mistress brought the free end of the rope around the back of the sofa and pushed it through to the front aiming underneath it. She brought it right round and made a secure knot that rested its bulk in Sally's ass crevice. Then she brought the free end of it up and tied Sally's wrists to each other and then to the wrought iron legs of the massive piece of furniture. She threaded it under the full length of the sofa then and tied the girl's legs in similar fashion. The whole effect made Sally feel like she was part of the furniture.
"Please don't . ... " again she was interrupted by a gag.
Whitney was shoving something into her mouth and choking her air off with it as she tied part of it behind her head. It smelled vaguely familiar. She looked down to see the familiar cream color of her best blouse, the one the woman had shredded into pieces when she ripped the thing off her moments earlier.
The rest of her pleas came out as muffled cries and whispers.
Whitney watched as the girl thrashed her head up and down and from side to side and tried to move as the knots bit into her flesh and the rope made it impossible for her to do much except wiggle like a worm on the end of a hook.
"Now, my proud beauty," she said, slapping her whip through the air again, "we'll see who's the mistress and who's the slave in this little ensemble."
Sally wondered why she had to say that. From the way things stood, it seemed perfectly clear to her. When you are in command of someone, when you are completely dominant over them," the woman said in a voice that sounded like rain on tinfoil, "you will understand."
Sally thought it sounded intriguing, but right now, she just couldn't get into it.
"Such lovely buttocks," the woman said, playing the tether end of her whip over them and letting it slack into the valley between her butt cheeks, "such tight, round high rises of marzipan. Good enough to take a bite out of, or to make a slight indentation on. A memorable indentation."
Sally heard the whip crack up into the air before it came down with a snarl and sliced into her backside.
"Arrrrrhhhhhhhhhhh," she moaned as the leather thong gripped her flesh. The thing hurt, the thing really stung, but somehow, somewhere deep inside her a tantalizing little gurgle was beginning to bubble up. Just an air pocket, but it was there. This was intriguing, she had to admit, it was different. A hell of lot different from a timed typing test, that was for sure.
"Again, my pretty, pretty, pretty," the woman brayed, as she forked the rein into the air and cut down onto the luscious melon rounds of the girl's delicate innocent skin.
"I know, my sweet," the woman said, her confidence rising in her chest, "I know that once you sense the powerful sting of my whip, that you will come to love it, as much as I."
Again the woman wasn't talking much sense, but Sally wasn't feeling much sense, either. Why the hell was she feeling so damned hot, and not just down there where the woman was raising welts, either.
Whitney brought the leather thong into play once more and seized the dead, still air by force with it as she nailed it to the heaving white thighs of the girl's behind. How she loved the sound that thing made. How she loved the total feeling of power that long, stringy whip gave her. How she loved to dominate sweet young things like this completely.
And how excited she was getting, just standing here watching the girl's butt mounds rise and fall like the waves. It wouldn't be too much longer before she would have to do something about it. Before she would have to take charge, take even more charge. Her clit was pounding against her cunt lips like sticks against a snare drum.
"Take that whip," she screamed, flailing the thing high up above her head and flogging the girl good with it. "Take it harder, you little snipe."
Sally felt her ass cheeks groan with pain and her cunt lips begin to wail with pleasure. Such mixed feelings were welling up inside her. She didn't know whether to shout or sing. To laugh or cry.
Whitney reached around to the back pocket of her corset and produced a long, sleek hard rubber dildo. The thing was black and had a double head attachment, so that two could ride as cheaply as one on it.
Sally was growing increasingly more annoyed at herself for feeling so incredibly hot under the butt cheeks. Why was she feeling this way? After all, she was getting a spanking. And she hadn't even done anything wrong! But there it was, nevertheless, an engorged clit. And engorged clits, in Sally's experience, never lied.
Whitney whirled the wicked rubber dildo around in between her fingers like a baton at a parade. She advanced toward the prone girl and stood above her, her whip thong dangling in her hand, playing around in the sensitive crevice between the blonde girl's butt cheeks.
"Enough of the sting of my whip, Slave!" she said, bringing the dildo close to her ass opening, "And a little of the sting of something else."
With that, she ripped the girl s panties off her ass and plugged her cunt with it.
"Agggggghhhhhhhhhhh," Sally tried to tell her, again. The thing felt so evil sticking inside of her like that. So vile, so deadly, so completely destroying. Her cunt lips parted to receive it eagerly. She felt herself gurgling up harder now. To an even bubbly surface, like an active tar pit.
Whitney released her own black panties from over her garter belt and let them fall to the floor. She stepped out of them hurriedly and jumped on top of the helpless girl.
Sally felt the full weight of the woman bounce down on top of her. The dildo was plucking hard at her cunt lips, playing them like the tough strings of a steel guitar. She could feel the wetness, the sweet moisture creep over it and bathe it in steamy liquid. Her gurgling had become a monstrous groundswell. She began undulating her hips to get more pleasure from the huge rubber prick thrust inside her.
"Yes, my proud little princess," the woman said, in a loud whisper between her teeth, "fuck that thing, fuck it."
Whitney found the other end of the long, stiff dildo thing and rose up on her knees to better guide it onto her cunt lips. She chased after it with those hot quivering, eager cunt lips of hers and played them down on it whenever she could. She made a game out of trying to entrap it between her cunt lips as she held them apart, trying to find the perfect moment to come right down onto it.
"Oh, God," the woman shrieked, "that's good." She had just found the peak of the throbbing rubber hard on and was making her way down the shaft. Her cunt lips gripped it with their steely locking muscles as she moved down and then, pressing her knees onto either side of the tied-up girl, rose back up off it.
Sally could feel the extra pressure inside her cunt as the woman jacked herself up and down the dildo pole. It pressed hard down inside her and made her wince with pain and pleasure each time it struck. She could feel the woman's big, thick throbbing cunt lips on her own swollen red whip tracks each time she came all the way down the now-moist and glistening shaft. She was shoving the thing in and out ever deeper down inside of her. She was fucking her with that hard, bumpy dildo cock. That sensation and the one coming from those raised welts was enough to turn her groundswell into a trembling, sizzling earthquake.
"Fuck me," the woman shouted, grabbing her whip and holding onto either end of it with both hands.
She brought it down around Sally's head and over her face, then stretched against her neck. She pulled on it hard, bringing Sally's head all the way up from the pressure against her throat.
Sally found these sensations tremendously confusing, but they did not stop the quickly-increasing senses of arousal and excitation. She was being whipped, hogtied, and now, choked, yet her cunt was wailing like a wounded sea lion.
Whitney pounded her whole frame harder down onto the sofa. She felt the bobbing fuck pole sticking high up into her gripping pussy hole. It stuck there like a fat man in a teeny weeny man hole. She worked it like a madwoman up and down, around and around. The thing was actually getting hotter from so
Whitney felt herself being plugged and pounded again and again by the angry savage dildo sticking out from between the girl's legs. She rode it as hard as a night jockey, as she pulled harder and harder on the reins around Sally's neck.
"Come on, Horsie," she shouted into the girl's ear, "Come on, Horsie, ride me."
Sally bounced her hips up still harder as the penetrating pole sunk down into her wet, hot throbbing pussy place. The sound of wet slurpy slapping it made as Whitney's cunt slammed down onto her buttocks was splitting her eardrums with loud vibratos. She thrust her hips up as high as she possibly could, feeling the rope cut into her eager, hot flesh.
"Fuck me, Horsie," the woman continued, slamming the dildo cock up into her cunt and pressing down on the girl's undulating ass mounds. "Fuck, Horsie, fuck."
Sally felt a jolt of electricity strike something hard down inside her gut and then, as though she was being immersed in warm bath water, she let go a moment and came in furious tossing and pitching waves of thundering climax. Again and again and again. And still she wanted more. She kept the pace up as she thrust her hips up high and brought them down hard again against the flat, smooth sofa bed.
Whitney cried and moaned as she gripped the reins hard as she plunged the cock dildo" up into her cunt with her ever-faster and ever more eager riding strokes. She plugged and pumped herself with the cock hard on. She fucked the stiff dildo in and out as fast as her short, gyrating movements would keep pace. She felt herself surge up and slam down in a blinding, ripping, snorting storm of orgiastic rushes. She came so hard she wrenched her body right off the rubber prick and had to scramble back up on it for a second round of heaving, exasperating come.
"Ahhhhhh," she said, as she passed the finish line, "nice ride, Horsie."
After a few seconds of slowed breathing and wiping the sweat off her, Whitney dismounted her pet's lovely rear end and patted the flank firmly. "Good girl Then she strolled casually around to the head of her beast and took the gag out of Sally's mouth.
"Oh, shit!" the anxious, overwrought girl said, expelling the last of her orgiastic joy juice onto the sofa, "Did I pass, Miss Wilde? Did I pass that one?"
"Little Vixen," the woman said, releasing the rope from around her wrists ankles, "You did rather well, in fact."
A few moments later, Sally sat up and rubbed her butt. She was beginning to get an idea of what Elaine felt like earlier today.
Whitney returned her dominance gear to the closet and tied her wraparound dress neatly in place.
"Well, Miss Pomeroy," she said, sounding like her old officious self, I believe you are indeed ready for your first assignment. Here's the address."
"Good," Sally said, feeling quite pleased that she had passed something today besides a lot of come juice out of her cunt, "but how about the way I look?"
Sally and Miss Wilde stared down at ripped bra and shredded panties the girl had on. She looked like a war-torn and ravaged victim of a blitz.
"Not to worry," the woman said, reassuring her and crossing to her closet. "Here." She tossed her a pale blue wraparound dress, not unlike the modest, innocent one she herself was wearing. "But remember, the men at the shoe buyer's convention don't usually pay much attention to what you wear on your body. They pay more attention to what you have on your feet."
She tossed her two thick leather platform shoes with silver ankle straps that wound around up to mid-calf.
"You know how shoe salesmen are," Whitney said, standing in front of the closet like a harried housewife. She closed the doors silently and came back to where Sally was seated in her nylon and lace smithereens.
The girl smiled wanly and reached down to grab the brown paper package. She didn't know how shoe salesmen were, really, but she had a feeling she was going to find out. Soon.