All the Mistress' Money - Part 7 - Mirror Secret Mirror

This is the final part of a 7-part series (click here to read the first blog in the series).

The grandfather clock had been moving agonisingly slowly, but it finally said 1pm. The battle-axe winked from across the candlelit waiting area. Dawn tingled with excitement, toes twitching around in her shoes. She’d decided to wear office-style clothes again – seemed appropriate for a dressing down. Although she wore a skirt this week. She’d been thinking about what the mistress had done with Blondie’s skirt and now wanted the same for herself. She clutched her handbag to her bosom with both hands and rocked impatiently on her heels. Electrical to hear the Dominatrix’ powerful voice again.

‘Henfield! Get your fucking ass in here.’

The submissive stiffened her shoulders and strode through the leather-strap curtains, into the mistress’ lair. The shimmer of candlelight swimming in the dark glass of the surrounding mirror-walls. The ominous huddles of cages, racks and torture equipment concealed under shadowy cloaks of drape. The musky smell of incense and cigarettes. The Dominatrix was enthroned on a tall mahogany chair at the deep end of the cavernous chamber. She was wearing red leathers this time… with hot-pants. Sitting at an angle with her long legs elegantly crossed and tilted over to the left. Curling poise accentuating the curve of her thigh and the round of her ass. The smoke from her cigarette hung in a reddish cloud above.

Dawn walked confidently, but with appropriate humility, stopping a few meters from the throne. The Dominatrix’s expression was sculpted from ice, although the lust smouldered as she looked her submissive up and down with an air of imperious satisfaction. Stilenskova was pleased to see her – Dawn flushed with pride. The mistress gestured for the submissive to kneel.

‘So… you book the whole afternoon.’ No attempt to conceal the gloat.

‘Yes, Mistress.’

‘You have the money?’

‘Yes, Mistress. I looked at your price-list, on the website, and I’ve brought cash with me.’ She opened her handbag and pulled out several piles of neatly folded notes. ‘I’d like to pay for an hour-long intensive session,’ she waved a bundle of £20 notes, adding up to £400, ‘four hours of service-submission,’ this stack of notes was twice the size, ‘a week’s worth of chastity belt key-holding,’ a wad of £60, ‘and… well, I don’t know exactly what we owe for last week… but according to the bank statement I’ve seen, my husband normally pays £1200.’ She drew that bundle from her bag and put it on the floor alongside the others. ‘Actually, I think he also pays for key-holding, but I’ll let him deal with those payments… if that’s okay?’

‘Your husband has not made booking this week.’

‘Oh, right… well, my husband and I haven’t actually talked about… I imagine he’s keen to book an appointment, but I think… I think he has some financial difficulties at the moment.’

The mistress beamed a big, red smile, summoning Dawn with a brisk flick of her fingers. ‘Come here. Leave bag, put money in your mouth… and crawl.’

‘Yes, Mistress.’

Dawn gathered up the money, unfolding it from the organised piles and gathering it into a thick wad of £2460. Had to really gawp in order to fit it into her mouth, gripping with her teeth to minimise the chance of getting saliva on the Dominatrix’ hands. She crawled forward with her gob stuffed full of cash. So much money! So wonderfully humiliating for a woman to pay another woman like this. But the mistress deserved every penny.

She smoked deliciously: long pauses punctuated by sharp drags, taken assertively from the side of the mouth. Each inhalation snarling half her face. During the slow exhalations, the smoke wisped out at a smoulder… snakes of tobacco-mist wreathing her body: a goddess in the clouds. The submissive knelt back on her ass as she reached the throne, making eye-contact and holding it as she ducked her head forward to make her offering. The mistress roughly jostled the cash from between Dawn’s teeth… a look of contemptuous disgust.

‘Fucking spit all over it. You drool like fucking dog!’

‘Only around you, Mistress.’

The Dominatrix tried to remain hard, but a delighted, little smirk crinkled the corner of her lips. She flicked through the money and proceeded to count off 12 piles of £100. Handing £1200 back to Dawn.

‘You keep this. Your husband can pay for session, last week. No more sessions for him, until he pays up… and I keep his cock locked up until he clears everything he owe. And he have to pay weekly charge for this, as well.’

Dawn grinned brightly. Toes curling and loins tingling like mad. For the first time in years, she fantasised about being in bed with her husband. Both of them lying there, back to back, pretending to sleep. But both too excited to close their eyes – locked inside the mistress’ chastity devices. Oh my God! That would be marvellous. Dawn looked at the £1200 in her hand. Should she ask? Obviously she shouldn’t! Had decided not to. Would definitely be in trouble if she did. But the punishment would be amazing… and maybe the mistress would let her do it afterwards, anyway. For some cripplingly unaffordable sum. The Dominatrix sensed something brewing.

‘What you want? You want something else?’ Sharp, interested expression.

‘Yes, Mistress. I know you wouldn’t normally… and I probably shouldn’t ask…’ Stilenskova’s eyes were coaxing her on. ‘But… would you allow me to… pay you to…’ The hairs on the back of her neck were bristling with electricity, ‘lick your pussy.’

The mistress’ eyes ignited as she leapt from the chair.

‘You are calling me a fucking whore?!’