Assignment for Alison

Assignment for Alison
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ISBN:  9781907753954
Author:  Jennifer Jane Pope
Word Count:  72,163
Format:  eBook

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She felt a hand on her buttocks, the fingers forcing their way between the taut rubber of her thong, pulling it down and to one side, and then another pressure against her bottom hole, cold and slippery. For a second her muscles tensed, resisting, but Alison realised it was a futile gesture. She forced herself to relax and grunted into the gag as the oiled dildo was pushed up inside her and the crotch of the panties snapped back into place over it.
   'We'll leave your cunt,' Kristin said, turning her around to face her again. 'The Master will want to attend to that himself.' She reached out and tweaked Alison's nipples and Alison felt them hardening once again. Kristin laughed her reedy laugh. 'Oh yes, you really are a dirty little whore, aren't you?' she taunted. 'I wonder how randy you'll be when Master Ralph's through with you.'

Journalist Alison Katt has a reputation for being prepared to do anything to get her story. But when editor Mike Hallett tells her the details of her latest assignment, even the intrepid Alley Katt is shocked.

However, driven forward by a mixture of ambition, salary bonus and her own insatiable curiosity, Alison accepts the challenge to investigate a shadowy fetish club, first undergoing a crash course in the scene at the hands of professional dominatrix Marcia, where she assumes the identity and character of the submissive Mitzi.

Despite initial misgivings, Alison finds herself drawn deep into a bizarre world she would never have imagined existing, and then deep into danger, as the rubber and leather games become real and the penalty for failure a life of unending servitude at the hands of a sadistic master!

Mistress Kristin was a tall, willowy blonde, with pinched features, severely drawn back hair, and legs that seemed to go on forever. She was not exactly pretty, but she was certainly not unattractive, though her thin lips were permanently set into a rigid line and her expression seemed to be a fixed scowl for most of the time. Alison wondered exactly how old Kristin was, but the best she could narrow it down to was somewhere between her late twenties and mid-thirties. The way in which she handled her captive, however, made her chronological age seem irrelevant, for her mastery of the shackles and chains bespoke an age of experience.
   'The mystery slave girl, eh?' she had said, upon first entering the room some half an hour or so after Thomas had left Alison strapped to the chair. She stalked slowly around the helpless figure, her high heeled knee boots clacking on the stone floor, the short riding crop slapping against their leather with a menacing sound. Peering through the eyes of her rubber face, Alison took in the tightly corsetted waist, the leather corset buckled over the skintight rubber leotard, the black net tights and the severe makeup. Where Marcia's appearance had been elegantly severe, this woman's was intended to convey the full theatrical effect, be it to a slave or any onlooker.
   Mistress Kristin raised the crop and placed the tip beneath Alison's chin. 'The Master has instructed that I am to be the only one to see your face… at least for the moment,' she said. 'He tells me you are supposed to be really pretty, but we shall see.' She removed the crop and slapped it against the frame of the chair with savage ferocity.
   'I do not like sluts who are too pretty!' she hissed. 'Even this pretend face is too pretty for the likes of you. I think I shall find something more suitable for when you are with me. And if your own face is not to my liking, I shall have our makeup girls change it. How would you like to look like a wizened crone, eh?'
   Alison closed her eyes and breathed slowly, trying to force back the wave of panic that was threatening to overwhelm her. This was not what she had anticipated at all, for there was little doubt in her mind that Kristin was completely unstable.
   'Yes,' Kristin was continuing, 'we have clients who like that sort of thing; a nice young body and a face that looks as though it's been in collision with a thousand ships, rather than launched them. You'd be surprised what a real makeup artist can achieve, and we have two here who have worked for films, theatres and television companies.' She leaned over Alison. 'In fact, I shall suggest to Master Ralph that we let them loose on you without delay. When they've finished with you, you won't even recognise yourself, so there'll be no need for this mask to hide your real features.
   'However,' she continued, straightening up again, 'for the time being we must get you more suitably attired for what the Master wishes for tonight. This outfit is perfectly suitable for domestic duties, but it covers far too much for other things.' She stepped back, resuming the tapping rhythm of crop against boot.
   'Now, before we go any further,' she said crisply, 'I want to make one thing clear. Whatever else you might think you have learned, or whatever you might have thought your position here would be, all the time you are here you are treated just as though you were a real slave. You may be an overpaid whore in the real world, but in this world - our world - you can forget about that.
   'Here the illusion is everything. Otherwise, when you are with the guests you might let the façade slip. No, my girl, here a slave is a slave is a slave, and any misdemeanours or slips in discipline are punished severely. Do you understand?'
   The now familiar spiky fingers were spreading rapidly throughout Alison's nervous system as she struggled to nod. It was crazy, she thought. No, she was crazy. She was sitting there, totally helpless, unable to move or even speak and faced with a bitch whose mental state was open to more than just idle speculation, and she was getting turned on by it! By all rights she should be terrified.
   Certainly she was more than a little apprehensive, but the tight knot in her stomach owed itself as much to anticipation and impatience as it did to trepidation. Two days before, Alison would never have believed herself capable of such a reaction to the situation in which she now found herself, but they had been a long and revealing two days.
   My God, she'd turned into a real slut! Mistress Kristin evidently thought so.
   'I am now going to release you and strip you, slut,' she barked. 'If you do not cooperate completely I shall summon extra help, and then you will be whipped thoroughly. In fact,' she added, stooping to tackle the first strap, 'a summons for help would be totally unnecessary; there are three cameras recording events in this room and they are being monitored continuously by our security personnel.'
   Alison tried to spot the cameras, but wherever they were, assuming Kristin wasn't bluffing, they had been well camouflaged. Presumably, she thought, whoever had installed the system had to be an expert at disguising his hardware, or else the blackmail victims would catch on to what was happening straight away and Ralph Hancock's scam would never have worked.
   Best to work on the assumption that the woman was telling the truth and, in any case, apart from earning herself a thrashing - and she was totally sure that Kristin wasn't bluffing on that score - she would only succeed in drawing unwanted attention to herself, getting branded as a troublemaker and, even worse, thrown straight out as an unsuitable candidate for the role she was expected to assume.
   Kristin worked quickly and methodically and with little consideration for Alison's comfort. Her slender frame belied the strength she possessed, Alison realised, and it was unlikely that Kristin would have to rely on assistance to overpower her. Besides, with the whip in her hand she made an even more formidable opponent, and there was little doubt in Alison's mind that she would know how to employ that weapon to the most devastating effect.
   Five minutes later Alison stood completely naked apart from the head mask and wig, the cool air inside the barren room raising little goosebumps all over her bare flesh. Kristin stalked around, examining every inch of her as though she were some animal on the auction block, and with a flash of comprehension Alison realised that that was exactly how the woman regarded her; a prize filly being prepared for sale - or lease - to the highest bidder… or highest bidders!
   'Not bad,' Kristin muttered, grudgingly. 'Not bad at all.' She patted Alison's buttocks with her free hand and then kneaded the firm flesh experimentally, before repeating the same process on each of her breasts in turn. To her chagrin, Alison felt her nipples stiffen, and that fact was not lost on her handler. 'As I said,' Kristin remarked, standing back again, 'a thorough slut. Are you wet, girl?'
   Indeed she was. Alison could feel the moist heat radiating from her sex. She tried to press her thighs closer together, but Kristin was having none of it.
   'Legs apart, slut!' she snapped, tapping Alison's thighs with the end of her crop. It was not a hard blow, but even so the contact stung and Alison could only imagine the pain the implement could inflict if it were used seriously. Not wishing to find out at first hand, she quickly moved her feet apart. Kristin peered downwards.
   'Hah!' she exclaimed, triumphantly. 'As I suspected. Dripping.' Before Alison could react the older woman thrust the end of the crop up between her thighs, pressing the braided leather between her labia. Alison's immediate instinct was to jump backwards, but she knew that reaction would have dire consequences. With a superhuman effort she managed to retain her pose and position.
   Slowly, Kristin drew the crop back and forth and, despite the gag, a groan escaped Alison's throat. Much more of this and she would climax, she knew, but that was not Kristin's objective. With a flourish she withdrew the crop and lifted the tip to her nose, sniffing at it fastidiously.
   'Very sweet,' she murmured. 'A regular little honey pot.' She flourished the end of the crop under Alison's nose and Alison was forced to inhale the aroma of her own excitement for several seconds. She could feel her cheeks burning and was grateful that the latex face hid her own features.
   'Yes,' Kristin said at last, casting the crop aside. 'I think you and I are going to have some entertaining times in the future. However, for now there is work to be done.' She turned and walked across to one of the low cupboards, throwing the doors wide, though the exact nature of its contents was obscured by the fact that they all appeared to be black. Kristin soon returned brandishing two items. One of them, Alison saw, was made of latex, the other of leather, comprised mostly of straps and buckles.
   Putting down the latter, Kristin held up the former, and Alison saw it was a pair of what were best described as panties, though their design was unlike anything she'd seen before. Her first impression was that they were far too small. Indeed, they looked as though they had been designed to fit a child of four or five, so little was there of them.
   But their elasticity proved phenomenal. So much so that, once in place, Alison felt as though she were being held in a vice. Furthermore, the oval cutout over her sex had the effect of thrusting her mound into even greater prominence, the black latex serving to highlight its nudity even more. At the back the garment was no more than a thong that passed between her buttocks, pulling up between them with a ferocity that was going to take some getting used to. Alison peered down at herself and realised that she felt even more naked than when she had actually been naked, and could not suppress a shiver of delight at the picture she knew she presented.
  'Now we'll do something with these tits,' Kristin announced, retrieving the arrangement of leather straps. Alison stood obediently while it was fitted to her upper body. Ostensibly, it was designed as a sort of brassiere-come-halter, but it was intended to emphasise, not cover the breasts. A wide collar was buckled about the neck, from which two straps descended at the front, joining a circle of leather at either side, through which Alison's firm orbs were pushed. The two circles were joined by a large metal ring and, at the bottom of each, was joined another strap which passed around to be buckled at the back. Once that had been done Kristin turned her attention back to the two leather circles, which Alison saw could be made smaller or larger by means of two buckles.
   It was no real surprise to her when Kristin began tightening them, forcing Alison's breasts up and out, until they looked as though they were nothing to do with the rest of her body and took on an elongated and swollen shape. It felt strange, but not painful and not really even uncomfortable, once Alison had grown used to the sensation. Kristin examined the effect she had created and nodded, pursing her lips.
   'Much better,' she said. 'A slut should have herself properly on offer at all times, and you are certainly on offer now.' She grinned maliciously. 'Play with yourself!' she suddenly snapped.
   Alison stood there, too shocked to move, and Kristin slapped her painfully across each breast in turn.
   'Are you stupid, girl?' she hissed. 'Play with yourself - nipples first and then that juicy little cunt. I want to see you come and I haven't got all day, so move it, slut!'
   Slowly, Alison raised her hands to her breasts, fingering her nipples tentatively. They felt distorted and full, each teat alive even to her own touch, and the heat which was already building inside her turned itself up another notch. As she rolled the distended flesh between fingers and thumbs, Alison could hear the sound of her own heart pounding and the rasping of her breath in and out of the nostril apertures. Kristin, however, was clearly not a patient soul.
   'Get a hand down on that cunt!' she ordered. 'I want to see you come, not indulge yourself.' Alison's right hand dropped instantly, her middle finger sliding easily into her slit and moving upwards to nestle against her clitoris. Yet again she was grateful for the mask to hide her embarrassment. She had masturbated herself to a satisfactory climax on many occasions in the past, but never had she thought that she would do it with an audience. Fleetingly, she thought of the unseen watchers observing her performance on the television monitors, and was suddenly seized with a fit of mad abandon.
   With a long groaning sigh, she began to gyrate her hips slowly in time to the movements of her fingers. If they wanted a show, she'd give them one. But then they were all forgotten as the tide of orgasm surged over her and, with a choked cry from behind the gag, Alison toppled forward onto her knees, the juices of her passion seeping traitorously between her fingers.
   Kristin allowed her only a minute or so to recover, while she returned to the cupboard and began selecting more things.
   'Up!' she snapped, dropping her burden onto the floor. 'Kneel up and hold out your arms. Mutely, Alison obeyed, and thick padded cuffs were buckled and locked around both wrists, the single connecting link holding them close together. As soon as the second lock had been snapped into place, Kristin turned her about and guided Alison to stand beneath the dangling chain. 'Raise your arms,' she commanded. 'No, higher than that. Damn!' she cursed as it became evident that the chain did not extend low enough, even when Alison's arms were lifted at full stretch.
   For a moment Alison thought she had escaped this particular part of the ordeal, but it was not to be. Kristin spun on her heel and strode across to the wall opposite, flipping open a cunningly concealed panel to reveal a small control panel. At the touch of a button a motor somewhere above began to quietly hum and the chain descended another foot. Closer to it now, Alison could see that the lowest link was in fact some sort of snap catch and, within seconds of the motor stopping, Kristin had attached it to the link between her manacles.
   Once again the motor started, but this time the chain began to ascend, rather than descend. What little slack there had been was soon taken up and Alison felt her arms being dragged and stretched until finally, standing on tiptoe, she saw Kristin shut the mechanism off. The position Alison now found herself in was painful in the extreme, the muscles in her arms, shoulders and calves screaming out for relief. She closed her eyes and prayed that Kristin would not keep her like this for long, and indeed the woman did not. There was worse to come.
   From the small pile of accoutrements Kristin had brought from the cupboard, she now selected a steel bar, about eighteen inches in length, at either end of which was fastened a heavy leather strap. Bending down, the woman quickly buckled one of these about Alison's left ankle, then pushed her legs roughly apart and repeated the process on the right. The effect was to deprive Alison of almost all of what little support her feet had been able to offer her, transferring even more strain onto her arms. Yet still Kristin was not satisfied, for the tube proved to be two tubes, one telescoping inside the other. With a grunt, Kristin began extending the bar, locking it off when about fifteen inches of the inner bar had been extended, so that Alison's ankles were held about two and a half feet apart and her toes now completely out of contact with the stone floor.
   Kristin stood up, and with a derisive sneer she raised one boot and thrust it against Alison's left heel, setting her slowly spinning like a grotesque marionette.
   'A satisfying sight,' Kristin laughed. It was a thin, mirthless sound. She allowed Alison to continue turning for a minute or so, before sticking out a leg to halt the sickening motion.
   'Just one more thing to do,' she said, walking back to the cupboard. The chain started to rotate again, only this time far more slowly, so that Alison was left dangling with her back to her captor, unable to see what she was doing. It was not long before she found out, though.
   She felt a hand on her buttocks, the fingers forcing their way between the taut rubber of her thong, pulling it down and to one side, and then another pressure against her bottom hole, cold and slippery. For a second her muscles tensed, resisting, but Alison realised it was a futile gesture. She forced herself to relax and grunted into the gag as the oiled dildo was pushed up inside her and the crotch of the panties snapped back into place over it.
   'We'll leave your cunt,' Kristin said, turning her around to face her again. 'The Master will want to attend to that himself.' She reached out and tweaked Alison's nipples and Alison felt them hardening once again. Kristin laughed her reedy laugh. 'Oh yes, you really are a dirty little whore, aren't you?' she taunted. 'I wonder how randy you'll be when Master Ralph's through with you.'
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Alison
Monday, 12 September 2016  | 

Great build up, lots of detail.


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