“What can I say? Play stupid games,
and you’ll win stupid prizes!”
- from the video log of Lady Estela
“How do you like that, you stupid bitch?”
WHACCK
Estela swung the flogger around and revelled in the crackling sound that indicated a perfect strike. The very tips of the leather tassels had connected with Citrine’s bare breasts, and that meant maximum pain.
“MMN,” Citrine cried. Her screams were muffled by a bit gag which she sank her teeth into.
Estela had swapped gags right away. The hook gag may appeal to some folks, but not Lady Estela. Besides, who could deny that Mistress Citrine looked wonderful with her lips spread apart by a stuffed black bit? It was certainly a satisfying sight for Lady Estela, and the same could be said for the sounds that hoe produced.
It may not have been the show’s first episode, but it was Estela’s television debut as a dominatrix. She had something to prove – especially after last week’s shortcomings – and who better to flex on than the self-absorbed asshole that had dominated everyone just a couple of days ago? By the time that she was through with Citrine, everyone would know that she was a serious contender! Last week had merely been a hiccup. She’d stumbled at the start, but she’d regain her footing as she walked all over Mistress Citrine.
After finding the blonde bimbo out in the halls, she’d taken her back to her private room. There, Mistress Citrine was stripped down to her birthday suit and tied down to a chair. This was pretty routine for Lady Estela except for one small detail: she wouldn’t be pulling punches.
Once they were tied up and naked on a chair, Estela’s more masochistic clients were normally just in for some teasing, degradation, and light punishment,
light being the operative word. Lady Estela knew her way around a flogger. She knew how to essentially tickle people with them, and she also knew to dish out some real pain. On that day, Citrine’s muffled screams would prove that to the whole damn world!
WHACCK
“MMMNMPH!”
“Stings, doesn’t it?” Estela lifted her knee and placed a foot on Citrine’s chair in a
Captain Morgan pose. “Still think I was worth it?”
Estela poked the handle of her flogger under Citrine’s chin and forced her head up so that they stared eye-to-eye with each other. She leaned in and asked, “Still think you got a good deal for selling me like a slave, bitch?”
Citrine obviously couldn’t reply, but her defiant glare was a good enough answer. She needed to be broken, and Estela felt up for the challenge. She withdrew her flogger and slapped it across Mistress Citrine’s face, ending their little stare down.
Estela stood up and took her foot off the chair. “You think you’re so smart, but you seriously need to be taught a lesson! You thought you could disrespect me and just walk away?!”
Estela whipped Citrine again, producing yet another sweet yelp.
“Maybe I should sell you then, huh? Let you see what it’s like on the other side of the exchange? I can think of about seven or so buyers that would just
looove to have a piece of you…”
For a moment, the defiance was gone form Citrine’s face. For a moment, Estela saw the unmistakable mark of fear. She smiled.
‘So that’s the trick…’
Estela strutted in a circle around her prisoner, playfully twirling her flogger around and around before lashing out with random, unpredictable strikes. She was in charge and loving it. She’d found the key to making her new toy fear her, and she was going to milk that until she got bored. Then, and only then, would she follow through on her threat, and show that pretentious white whore that Lady Estela was a force to be reckoned with!
“You know what, I kind of like the sound of that. Maybe once I’m through with you, I’ll pass you on until every domme on this show has gotten the chance to tell you just what they think of you and your smartass auction.
I’m not through with you, not by a long shot, but why should I have all the fun?”
“Twinkle-toes and I had a real good time!”
- from the video log of Scarlett
Imagine the joy that came over Scarlett when Lady Estela came knocking on her door with a little gift, a very neatly wrapped gift. Scarlett became excited at the mere sight of Mistress Citrine all tied up with ropes and led along on a leash by Lady Estela, but when that sexy Brazilian offered said leash to Scarlett, it was the surprise to beat all other surprises. Scarlett felt like a little girl again, coming down the stairs to find the present she’d always wanted beneath the Christmas tree, but the fact that this had come out of nowhere made it all the sweeter.
"Just make sure everyone else gets a shot at her," was all the Brazilian visitor had to say.
How Estela had even managed to subdue her that badly was a mystery to Scarlett, but she wasn’t going to waste time pondering over that, not when she had a lovely new prisoner to play with; and boy, did she ever have some ideas for that…
Mistress Citrine was led by her latest dominatrix to the playroom. Scarlett had to untie Citrine’s ankles in order to move her down the hall at an acceptable pace. In fact, she would also have to completely untie Citrine’s legs for her plan to work perfectly. Of course, Citrine’s freed legs wouldn’t do her much good. Scarlett knew that her prisoner wouldn’t run off because her plans involved suspension, and not just that, but suspension of the nastiest kind!
Dungeon Devine’s resident goth was a big fan of boxties like the one that currently bundled Mistress Citrine’s arms into a helpless little package. Not only did they look amazing, but they were also effective while remaining relatively comfortable for their wearers.
But Scarlett’s favourite part about boxties was that they kept her pretty little playthings from guarding their butt.
Scarlett could barely hide her glee when she went to a workstation and retrieved an anal hook. This one was a beautifully curved rod of steel-tipped with an anchor point at one end and three increasingly large metal spheres at the other.
She showed Citrine the hook and asked, “You know what this is, hun?”
“NNMPH!”
Citrine’s face flushed and she frantically shook her head back and forth. At that point, it became impossible for Scarlett to hold back her giddy, sadistic laughter. Citrine knew exactly what that hook was, and that made her afraid, and that made Scarlett excited.
“Awe, don’t be scared, sweetie. You’ll never know that you don’t like it unless you try it out.”
Scarlett took Citrine’s leash and hitched her like a horse to a nearby cage while she got to work. With a naughty grin spread across her face, Scarlett attached the hook to a cable that ran through a winch on the ceiling. Scarlett would often glance at her nervous captive while she worked, and she made sure to throw her a wink while she rubbed lubricant all over the anal hook’s bulbous tip.
“NMN! NMGRRMPH MMPH!”
Citrine protested vehemently into her stuffed bit gag. She thrashed her bound body around and strained helplessly at her ropes as Scarlett took hold of her leash and tugged her over to the hanging hook. The busty goth pulled down on her sub’s leash and bent her over. Citrine whimpered, clearly knowing what was to come.
“Shhh, shshshshhh,” Scarlett cooed as she gently stroked her sub’s hair. “Just relax. It’ll go so much more smoothly if you relax.”
“mmmmnnn--NMPH!” Citrine flinched as Scarlett pressed the hook’s cold steel tip to her rectum.
“There, there, baby. Just let it in.”
“nmnmmnn…” Goosebumps spread across Mistress Citrine’s quivering body.
Scarlett felt the second ball pop into place. “Just let it in. Let it inside you.”
“mn, mn, MMMMPH!”
“Awe, good girl! Good girl! C’mon, stand up.”
Loving, sensual taunts like that came naturally to Scarlett, and she felt as though they fit this scene perfectly. She let off her grip on her captive’s leash and allowed Mistress Citrine to stand up. The playful Oklahoman pecked her big lips against Citrine’s gag and said, “I’m proud of you, sweetie. Let me get you a bit more comfortable…”
She bent over and pulled at the remaining ropes that bound Mistress Citrine’s legs, which slid down her silky skin and fell to her ankles. Citrine stepped out of the coils, but it was too late to run Scarlett had her on a silver platter, and she was loving it.
“You’re gonna want to stand tall, hun,” Scarlett said as she took hold of the winch’s remote.
“MMPH!”
Scarlett held down a switch on the remote and the winch cranked to life above Mistress Citrine. Her eyes grew to the size of grapefruits as the hook began to slowly ascend inside of her. Her free legs danced around in a panicky shuffle, as though she wanted to run away, but couldn’t decide which direction to scurry. It was a sight that Scarlet found to be absolutely adorable, and she relished every second of it.
When she finally took her finger off the switch, Citrine was damn near off the ground. The petrified beauty was standing on the tips of her toes with her legs stretched as far as they could reach. As Scarlett sauntered over to her plaything, she saw beads of sweat forming on Citrine’s brow. That made the dark queen smile.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got great legs?”
“Mnm, mmn!”
That didn’t sound like a comeback so much as a plea. Citrine didn’t seem to care much for her predicament, but Scarlett was loving it. She ran a hand up Citrine’s thigh in a long, soft caress, and noticed the blonde tensing up as her fingers passed over her buttocks.
‘A ticklish bum,’ Scarlett thought.
‘I’ll have lots of fun with that…’
Scarlett giggled to herself. She’d be having a lot of fun with Mistress Citrine in general. The subdued scholar was all hers, and Scarlett could explore every square inch of her body to find all her weak spots; Spots that would tingle at the touch of Scarlett’s lips and fingers and tongue.
Scarlett remembered Estela's request and decided that she would indeed be passing Citrine along once she got bored, but Scarlett shrugged off the idea. She knew that it would be quite a while before she got bored…
“I must say, she’s certainly brought
out the sadist in all of us…”
- from the video log of Ms Hawtrey
As a young girl, one of Ms Hawtrey’s old instructors had trained her to always smile in the presence of company. ‘It’s ladylike to smile in front of others,’ she used to say. Well, there wasn’t anyone around, but Ms Hawtrey had every reason to smile. After all, her second week of Alpha Domme had begun with such a spiffing surprise.
Hawtrey had gone to the playroom earlier that morning to stock up on toys in case of an unexpected opportunity, and good heavens had she ever found one! She just about lost her composure when she happened upon Scarlett and Mistress Citrine, who had apparently gotten herself into quite a bind, all bound and gagged hung from her hiney.
Citrine had been quite a naughty girl and she looked ravishing in ropes, so when Scarlett seemed to run out of steam, the fair English dominatrix was delighted to pick up where she’d left off.
What a jolly good show that had been, and with so little work required to execute! Once Citrine had been taken off of her hook, Hawtrey’s only task was to move her to a nearby clearing in the playroom and attach her collar to an anchor point on the floor. That and replacing her bit gag with an extra-large ball gag, which looked quite fetching in the young lady’s mouth.
She’d pulled Citrine’s chain so tight that it left her face tethered no more than four centimeters off the floor. Such positioning had left little Mistress Citrine with abysmal mobility, and her only options were to lay flat on the floor or kneel with her bare behind in the air. Either way, Both Hawtrey and Ms Payne could work with that just fine. Ms Hawtrey loved nothing more than to discipline the naughty, and Citrine had been very naughty indeed. Her punishment had been long, strict, and relentless.
That splendid affair had carried on until Queen Vasilka happened by. By then, Ms Hawtrey had had her fill of Citrine, and figured that it would only be fair to let Vasilka have her turn. That had been the last Hawtrey had seen of those two. It was safe to assume that Vasilka would take Citrine to her room and do a photoshoot with her. That had been a short while ago, but Ms Hawtrey was still chuffed to bits! She had just gotten a free session of domination to start her day off, and it had put her in a cheery mood that seemed as though it would never end.
At least, it seemed that way until Ms Hawtrey visited the courtyard.
She went there expecting to find a lovely cup of tea, but instead, she found Vasilka and Citrine, and they were in a most extraordinary position. Mistress Citrine had been completely retied with her legs tucked tightly against her chest, as though she were balltied. Her boxtie had been replaced with strict elbow bondage that kept her arms pressed parallel to one another, and she was now silenced with layers of duct tape wrapped around her head.
But what was truly extraordinary was her elevation. Queen Vasilka may not have been going about her usual photoshoot, but it seemed that suspension was still her cup of tea. She’d taken Citrine to one of the courtyard’s gazebos and hoisted her above its white sofas like a wind chime. There she hung, suspended from the heavy wooden frame by multiple different ropes webbing all around her balled up body. Even her golden locks had been woven into one of the suspension ropes, which caused her head to be perpetually bent up. However, the most remarkable of Citrine’s ropes was the one that connected to her wrists, as it was shortest of them all. It pulled her bound wrists high above her body in a strappado position that looked terribly uncomfortable.
Citrine herself certainly didn’t look comfortable at all. Her face was cherry red and her eyes bore a mixture of terror and anguish. That was quite telling, as Vasilka wasn’t even doing anything with her. The artistic rigger was simply laying across the soft couch beneath her suspended prisoner and casually reading what appeared to be a book on shibari. This confused Ms Hawtrey for a moment before she realized the ghastly truth: Citrine’s position was so strict that Vasilka was simply allowing it to do all the work for her. Merely being in that position was torture enough for Mistress Citrine.
Well,
almost torture enough.
As Queen Vasilka lazily turned a page of her book, she slowly raised her long, sleek leg off of the upholstery, demonstrating great flexibility as she lifted her foot above her chest and brought it to her victim’s face. Mistress Citrine’s eyes doubled in size as Vasilka pinched her nose between her toes and cut off her only means of breathing.
“Mn! Mnmph!”
Citrine let loose a pair of pathetic mewls through her gag and began to shuffle around in the air. It was a worthless endeavour. She’d been trussed up so tight that she couldn’t even get her nose out of that foot grip. Still, her squirms became increasingly fervent as time dragged on and she became more and more desperate.
When Queen Vasilka finally did let go, Ms Hawtrey could hear Citrine’s gasp all the way from where she stood. She also heard the sharp
smack as Vasilka kicked her leg to the side and slapped Citrine’s cheek with her bare sole. The force was enough to spin the suspended blonde a full 360 degrees before Vasilka once again clamped her nostrils shut.
The Bulgarian dominatrix repeated her breathplay trick on Citrine before slapping her again in the opposite direction. It was at that point that Ms Hawtrey had to turn away. Witnessing such beastly treatment of the poor bound darling was enough to make her seedy. At least it always felt marvellous whenever Miki used her feet.
Ms Hawtrey’s stomach dropped as the thought crossed her mind. The smile that had been cemented across her face all day was instantaneously replaced by a pale expression of shock and shame.
‘Oh, bloody hell! Did I really just think that?!’
“I don’t know what her deal is, but
at this point, anything’s worth a shot!”
- from the video log of Mistress Citrine
Her shoulders ached, her knees ached, pretty much every joint in her skeleton except for her toe knuckles ached. Citrine sniffled and whined, but her gag reduced it down to an imperceptible whimper.
She blinked back tears, but she couldn’t ascertain the classification of those tears. Were they tears of pain, shame, or despair? Mistress Citrine couldn’t draw a conclusion because she felt all of them in spades. She was a broken woman. Her proud demeanour and her estimable reputation felt like relics from another lifetime. Her vengeful competitors had worn her down to nothing but a pitiful shell of a domme, and this was only the beginning.
Citrine had been passed around like yersinia pestis, being battered by sore losers one after the other, and she had every reason to think that this was only the beginning. Lady Estela’s threat would come to pass, and every single domme that Citrine had crossed last week would get their chance to brutalize her before the day was out. The very thought of it made Citrine feel vertiginous, especially since the worst was yet to come. Jynx the Mynx - the most opprobrious of them all - had yet to inflict her punishment on Mistress Citrine, as did Velvette, Miki, and…
Madame Muse entered the courtyard.
It happened just as it had every other time. The latest domme to happen by spotted Citrine in her ignominious predicament of the hour, admired and teased her, then turned to her current captor. Every time the brainy captive passed to new hands, she was referred to like a foster child in need of discipline, or a new puppy that had outgrown its owner’s love. It was sickening.
Mistress Citrine had witnessed the same song and dance three times already, and by that point, she could accurately predict what would be said and how long the exchange would take. However, she could never predict what kind of torment she would be forced to endure next. It seemed that every contestant was full of surprises, and they all had their canniness aimed right at poor, helpless Citrine.
When Madame Muse and Queen Vasilka were done exchanging words, Vasilka rose to her feet, gave the madam a little bow, and left her to do whatever she pleased with their bound guest (who was
still dangling above the couch). The strung-up mistress hung at eye level with her newest warden, and she had a close-up view of Muse’s sinister smirk.
Citrine had seen what Muse had done with Velvette. She knew that that woman could be a devastating force if she wanted, and Citrine was far beyond the point of being able to resist Muse’s will.
Muse reached up and cupped Citrine’s cheek. She brushed her thumb over Citrine’s gagged face and said, “You look tired, Citrine. Tired, mortified, and… well, pathetic, really.”
She brought up her other hand and held Citrine’s head like a basketball. She pulled her in and gently pressed their foreheads together as she stared, unblinking, into Citrine’s terrified eyes.
“However, you still look useful.”
“Mmn?”
Muse smirked and let go of her prisoner’s taped up jaw. She backed away and said, “It would be oh so easy to break you all over again, fun too, but I have a better idea in mind. An idea that will require a helping hand.”
A plenitude of questions had just been raised, but Mistress Citrine wasn’t given a moment to contemplate over any of them. Before a single plenary thought could pass through her mind, her collar was hooked by Madame Muse’s finger. Citrine’s head was pulled forward, and she found her gaze interlocked with her looming captor.
“But of course, you’re mine one way or another. You'll either serve me with your hands tied, or untied. The choice is up to you…”