You Can Always Say No Ch. 07
Keywords: Say, Can, Always, Ch., 07, You, No,
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She awoke slowly, just as I had that morning. I gazed down longingly at her figure, still seductively attired in corset, stockings and heels, as she knelt before me on the coffee table. Her face rested to one side on the tabletop. I strolled slowly around the table, allowing her to drink in the sight of my body, tightly corseted in black calfskin with my breasts riding high and pushed together by the corset's demi-cups. The matching custom-made boots laced up the front, all the way to my bare pussy. Their five-inch stiletto heels lent the right air of authority to the image, as did the black kidskin gloves that clung to my upper limbs like wet tissue from fingertip to armpit. My makeup was provocative without excess and my hair was done up in a chignon, not a strand out of place.
As I circled her, I noted with satisfaction the cuffed-together ankles and wrists cuffed behind her thighs. I gently caressed her shapely, upturned ass with the tip of my crop.
"Angie, Angie, Angie," I crooned softly. "What am I going to do with you? On the one hand, you are making magnificent progress towards becoming the sexy sissy I want you to be. When you walked in my door this afternoon and proudly proclaimed you had gone into work today, looking the way you did, I thought I had died and gone to Heaven. I don't think there is any question you are enjoying it, too – perhaps too much. That brings us to the "other "hand…."
"THWACK"!
Her whole body flinched, even as she emitted a muffled shriek.
"WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO CHEAT ON ME, BITCH?" I screamed in her ear.
"THWACK"!
Another flinch. Another stifled scream.
"We are "married" you and I. 'Love, honor and cherish, forsaking all others,' remember? Doesn't that mean anything to you?
"THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!"
She was crying and whimpering now.
"What's the matter, Baby?" I purred in her other ear. "Cat got your tongue? "Ball gag" got your tongue?"
She glared at me through her tears, unable to reply.
"I wouldn't have minded so much if it was just the "man"," I hissed. "I was okay with my little sissy taking her first real cock – although I would have preferred to see it for myself. No, my problem is with that little redheaded slut who obviously decided to keep you for herself for a couple of nights – and "you" went right along for the ride, didn't you?"
"THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK!"
Continuing my circuit of the table, I passed out of her line of sight, allowing her to digest that last part. I stopped at the end of the sofa to once again smell those magnificent roses. I had placed them on the end table to make room on the coffee table for our fun and games. The thought occurred to me to transfer the spectacular bouquet to my heavy, more formal "Baccarat "crystal vase later on. I resumed my prowl up the opposite side, stopping to place my lips right at her ear.
"Did you think I would be okay with "that"? Hmmmm? Did you think I wouldn't have a problem with some other girl seeing you, meeting you, dancing and chatting with you, then deciding 'hey, this little chippie is a really good catch' and stealing you away from me? WELL, I DO!!!!!!!!"
"THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACK… *THWACK*!"
Angie was quietly sobbing now. Tears streamed from her closed eyes and her body was quivering. I noted the savage whipping had loosened one edge of her buttock prosthetics. The stripes on the lower, unpadded portions of her flesh where I had been carefully directing my blows were turning a livid purple.
With Deidre and the others, I would have been feeling supreme satisfaction, even arousal at that moment. A session might have lasted hours. I would have cum more than once from the intense emotion alone, if not the sensation caused by the rims of my boots rubbing against my pussy. Now, after only a couple of dozen vicious swats on Angie's upturned tush, I felt… empty and unsettled. The intense emotion had been there, but this time it had been the suppressed rage of betrayal, of which I had already purged myself.
That was the difference. With the hopelessly submissive, masochistic Deidre and the others, it had been consensual; an act of admittedly perverse pleasure for both. I had made love to them with my whip; light, caring flicks and caresses, building slowly, passionately in intensity, in tune with our emotions. 'Release' had not been about the eventual soft, sensual unbuckling of a buckle or flick of a strap; those were mere afterthoughts. There was none of that romance here. This had been a unilateral act of petty vengeance, with no pleasure for either of us. The sight of my Angie's bruised, battered rear end, knowing I had done this to her, was making me sick. I wanted to end this farce. Still, I had started this; I had to play it out….
"Look at you," I sneered loudly, stifling the sob that threatened to creep into my voice. "Little Miss Sweet Cheeks; just shake that luscious tush of yours and all the big, strong boys and foxy girls come running, don't they? Not so hot to trot now, are you? I wonder what your little redheaded girlfriend would say if she were here right now?"
"How about, 'Nitie-nite, "Bitch"'?" came the malevolent growl from behind me.
My peripheral vision caught a swirl of red hair, then a blur of motion. I felt, as much as heard the crash; then oblivion….
I regained consciousness sometime in the gloom of night – and immediately wished I hadn't. My head throbbed, pounded. There was a huge, hyper-sensitive knot on the back of it. The room was dimly illuminated by a flickering light. There were voices in the background, two of them; one male, the other female. I shook my head to clear it, instantly regretting the effort as the wave of pain washed over me. As my vision came into focus, I noted the roses and shards of thin, glazed ceramic scattered about me on the floor, in near-perfect symmetry to the point of impact. Thank God for that cheap florist's throw-away. If I had already transferred the blooms to my heavy crystal vase as intended, I might have been killed; my skull crushed.
I summoned my righteous indignation, resolving to follow those voices to their source, confront the lovers and vent my spleen on them. They had callously left me lying there on the floor while they left to do… whatever they pleased. How dare they? Then I realized the voices, like the flickering light, originated from our wide-screen plasma television. Two figures cavorted in bed; our bed, Angie's and mine. The sex was graphic, raw, and intense. So were her lustful screams. The red mist of my rage blotted out vision and reason itself. I cast my eyes about, looking for something I could hurl at the screen, at the lovers who taunted me with their passion. Then I took a good look at those figures again. My heart sank when I realized this was no 'revenge fuck' staged for my benefit. The girl on the screen was me; the man was Jason. The recording captured us in all our glory – or infamy.
"How"… I started to ask myself, then just as quickly realized the horrifying answer. The ultra-sophisticated surveillance system I had had installed, at hideous expense, to capture Alan's cross-dressing peccadilloes had never been removed. I hadn't even given thought to it after it had done what I had intended it to do. Obviously my spouse had - and gone looking for the source of the recording I had used against him. Alan may have been a de facto administrator when our adventure began, but Jason had originally hired him for his expertise in electronic engineering. That, plus the army of geeks at his disposal at the time would have made short work of uncovering the system and unlocking its complexities.
I had paid for the best and gotten it. Now I tried to remember the buzz phrases the installers had bandied about after completion of their task. "DVD burner". That was an easy one; it had created the disc I had flaunted in Alan's face – and most likely the video I was now watching. "Motion- and sound-activated cameras. "That was also easy to understand; efficient, unattended, around-the-clock surveillance, for which I had paid a premium. What were the other features they had enumerated? "RAID tower storage. Removable hard drives. One Terabyte capacity." I hadn't paid attention to such technical jargon, but now fully appreciated a frightening statistic the installers had quoted me; when activated, my in-house spy system would record up to three months of activity before it began overwriting old information with new. Worse, the automatic backup-to-disc software would ensure nothing was ever lost, as long as fresh discs were inserted regularly.
The time stamp appeared in the upper-left-hand corner of the image. It was not the romp of Wednesday night and Thursday. I "might" have been able to explain that away, given the events at "Neo". No, this was a record of the very first time I had brought Jason into our bed. How had Sam Irvin put it during the Watergate hearings? "What did he know? When did he know it?" The intent of this little docudrama was crystal clear; Angie knew it all, from then to now, and had a record of it. I had been hung with my own rope.
I knew at that moment I would not find Angie anywhere in the house; nor would I find her discs, or the hard drives in their bays in the surveillance server. I didn't bother looking for a note; the video on the big screen "was" the note. "Dear Donna," it proclaimed, "You asked how could I cheat on you? What do you call this? What HAVE you called it all these months? If you insist on pointing fingers, start with yourself." Even as I flogged her, she had been staring at me with those defiant, knowing eyes. With this video, she was now voicing the utter contempt which the gag in her mouth had stifled, flinging my own hypocrisy back in my face.
I went upstairs, removed my domina garb and took a long, hot shower. After toweling dry, I slipped into my silk robe and slippers, then made my way downstairs to the kitchen.
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Keywords: Say, Can, Always, Ch., 07, You, No,