Cassandra Learns Her Lesson

The girl walked into the store nonchalantly, despite the fact that it was forty degrees out and she was barely wearing enough to cover a child's doll. A red plaid skirt that couldn't have been more than six inches from waist to hem hinted at a delightfully curved derrière, while simultaneously redefining "micro-skirt." Long white stockings came up to her lower thighs and disappeared into four-inch red heels. A tiny red top ended about two inches beneath her breasts, which were not restrained by a bra, if her turgid nipples were any indication. A wide black belt was cinched tightly around her waist, and a barbell glittered in her belly button, the silver providing a very entertaining contrast to her olive skin. Her hair had been dyed a shade called black cherry; the clerk remembered because his girlfriend, who was currently in the bathroom of the small convenience store, often dyed her hair the same color.

Despite his efforts not to appear too interested, lest his girlfriend re-appear from the bathroom, the clerk couldn't help but get an eyeful. This girl was simply good looking at it was, but when she chose to raid the toy section for clothes, she became eye-candy of the first order. Normally, the clerk claimed he wasn't interested in any person that dressed like that, but then he had never been confronted with anyone that actually did go out in public like that. Honestly, he never imagined that anyone would, especially with the unusually cold weather. To some degree he doubted that anyone would believe that he had seen someone like her come into his store—he imagined that he would be accused of taking too many caffeine pills so he could stay up all night and run the counter, and he did a quick mental count of the pills he had taken tonight. The tally came back as none. He tried not to be hopped up when his girlfriend came to visit him on the job; her company was more than enough to keep him awake, even in the middle of the most boring nights. Normally, the manager didn't like anyone hanging around the store, but she liked Sharon well enough, and conceded that graveyard at a low-volume convenience store was the most mind-numbing job on the planet.

The girl in the…uh, handkerchief stopped in front of the large glass-fronted cooler that took up one entire side of the store. After pausing for a moment, she opened door number six. Sighing, the clerk decided that if anyone wanted proof of his boredom at work, they had to dig no farther than the fact that he had memorized the numbers assigned to each door on the cooler. Of the twelve doors, six held soft drinks, juice, and milk. The remaining doors, numbers one through six, were devoted to beer and wine. Checking the time, he saw it was well after midnight, and therefore illegal to sell beer or wine in Texas. Except on Saturdays, he reminded himself. God, he was bored.

When the girl approached the counter carrying a twelve pack of Smirnoff Ice, he pointed to the clock and simply said, "It's after hours. I can't sell that to you."

She laughed lightly and placed the Smirnoff on the counter. "I thought I had until one to buy alcohol," she said, smilingly disarmingly.

He shook his head and said, "Not on Fridays. The cut-off is one on Saturdays, midnight every other night."

"Please?"

His arms crossed across his chest of their own accord. Too many people had already tried this with him. "Texas state law says that if I do, I can go to jail for six months. I don't feel like doing that."

Pouting cutely, she asked, "Well, I don't think anyone will know..." She turned her eyes up at him, the dark brown of her irises shining up at him enticingly.

"Except for the camera," the clerk said, pointing. She turned and saw the camera and her own image on the monitor. Though she had seen the camera when she walked in, she hadn't realized that the monitor had given the clerk a way to admire her from two angles simultaneously.

When she turned back to him, she smiled again. Her hand reached over the Smirnoff and across the counter to stroke his arm softly. "What if I make it up to you?" she asked in a whisper.

The clerk stepped back from her quickly, which proved to be very fortunate for him. Sharon had returned from the bathroom and had watched them from the small alcove that hid the bathroom. Clearly angry, she yelled, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Though the clerk simply turned his head to confirm what his ears had already told him, the girl whirled in surprise. She stared open-mouthed at Sharon. Both Mike and Sharon were used to that reaction; when they weren't at their respective jobs, they had a tendency to dress entirely in black and accent their wardrobe with leather jackets and belts, as well as chains and, in Sharon's case, a collar. Somehow, Mike imagined that Sharon probably would've stared the same way at the girl if she weren't so angry at the moment.

Filling the tense silence, Mike told his would-be customer "This is my girlfriend, Sharon. She is rather possessive and has a very bad temper, especially late at night."

Ignoring him, Sharon pressed on and yelled again. "I asked you a fucking question, bitch! What the fuck are you doing?"

Regaining her composure, the girl tried to re-direct Sharon's anger. "He fucking started it! Don't get all fucking mad at me just because you can't keep your man in check!"

Mike turned to Sharon and started to protest, as he hadn't seen her come out of the bathroom either, but she beat him to it. "I fucking watched you traipse all across the store in that fucking washcloth you think is a skirt! I watched you fucking come up to the counter and flirt with him just so could fucking get your shit! I watched you fucking reach over and touch him! And I fucking watched him back away from you, you fucking slut!"

As the girl started into her own tirade, Sharon walked up to her and slapped her full across the face, causing the girl to lose her balance and grip the counter. Mike pointed up at the camera, and Sharon took the hint and dragged the girl out of camera shot.

The two struggled for a moment, but Sharon had far more experience man-handling people than the other girl. Mike was an avid death-metal fan, and Sharon had often found herself being dragged along to various local clubs to see live shows. Inevitably, a mosh-pit would form and, try as he might, Mike couldn't always keep the other patrons from colliding with his lover. Such as it was, Sharon had become rather adept at keeping the crowds at bay. In a few moments, the girl was face down on the floor with Sharon's knee in the small of her back. Unhooking one of her wallet chains, she deftly secured the girl's arms behind her back. Mike nodded approvingly; his pet had learned well, it seemed.

Standing again, Sharon dragged the other girl up by her hair, eliciting a sharp cry of protest and pain. Ignoring her for the moment, Sharon turned to Mike and spoke. "I know that you would like to watch, but I don't want the police to see if they happen to drive by."

Nodding, he said, "Just tell me what happens."

With a quick nod, Sharon dragged her hapless victim to the storeroom in the back. Mike usually left the door unlocked while he was there, as he made frequent trips back and forth during the course of the night. Knowing that things would get loud, she closed and locked the door behind her. A recent shipment of cigarettes had left the manager's office a bit crowded, so one of the two chairs had been placed in the storeroom for the time being. Taking advantage of this fortunate occurrence, Sharon sat on the chair and pulled the other girl across her lap. The chains on her jacket jangled loudly in the still, quiet room.

By this time, the girl had lapsed into a frightened silence, though she still half-heartedly struggled against her captor. Looking down at the treasure in her lap, Sharon felt herself grow a little wet. Despite the fact that Mike was her dominant lover, she still enjoyed subjugating women. Even as the anger inside of her continued to rise, she couldn't help but admire the fine specimen currently held across her lap. Twinges of desire competed with her need to punish this vixen. Smiling, she decided that she could do both.

"What's your name, bitch?" Sharon asked. The girl, however, only kicked her feet and wiggled in a vain attempt to get free. Damn, Sharon thought, that turns me on so much. I love it when a girl fights even when she knows she can't win. Pushing the barely there skirt out of the way, a bright red thong came into view. "You really need to learn how to answer, bitch," Sharon said while she softly stroked the pale brown flesh that was stretched over her lap. "But you'll learn soon enough…"

"What the hell does that mean?" the girl demanded angrily. She opened her mouth to say something else, but the words were replaced by a sudden cry of pain and indignation as Sharon landed a strong open hand across her buttocks, leaving a hand print that was the same color as the thong.

"That's what it means." Without another word, Sharon began to rain a series of stinging swats down on her ass and the back of her thighs. The girl screamed for a few minutes and struggled as hard as she could. This didn't continue very long; as the spanking continued, she began to sob and then to whimper as her struggling slowly tapered off. When her ass was crimson and her legs were no longer kicking, Sharon stopped. "Ready to answer my questions now?" she asked sweetly.

Sniffing, the girl nodded.

"Okay, let's start with your name."

"Cassandra." She flinched as a hand descended on her already abused bottom.

"You will address me as Mistress. Do you understand?"

Sniffing again, Cassandra nodded. Another swat followed quickly.

"I asked you a question, bitch. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress." She clenched her cheeks, expecting another swat. None fell.

"Good." Smiling, Sharon began caressing Cassandra's beet-red butt again. The heat rising from her tender skin felt good against the dominant woman's hand. The thong, however, was quite annoying. Cassandra began to shiver as Sharon slowly worked her finger under the waistband and slowly tugged the offending garment out of the way. Once again, the girl began to kick and protest, but another quick round of spanking brought obedience as well as tears. The thong slowly made its way down now-still legs, over the shoes, and fell softly to the floor.

Absently stroking Cassandra's butt and shapely legs, Sharon continued her questioning. "So, do you wax or shave?"

"I…I wax, Mistress," the girl stammered through her tears.

"And do you wax your pussy too?" Sharon asked smoothly. Cassandra chose that moment to lapse back into silence, although her ass-cheeks clenched in preparation for another series of swats. Perturbed, her tormentor took to pinching the skin along the back of her thighs. "I'll stop when you're ready to cooperate, bitch," she growled. It didn't take long.

Her face was quickly turning the same shade as her heated ass as she twitched with each pinch. "Mistress, I wax my pussy too!" she shouted, hoping Sharon would stop. She did.

"I'm glad to know that you are ready to cooperate again. Let's move on now, shall we?" Mike had taught her how well alternating punishment with kindness worked. He called it "carrot and stick," and she had enough first-hand experience with it to know that no matter how strong a person's will was, everybody eventually succumbed to it.

Her next question was more personal. "Are you a virgin?"

"No, Mistress."

"You know, the way you dress, I'm not surprised. What in the hell would you wear this in public for?"

"I saw a picture of Christina Aguilera like this." She yelped in pain and surprise when Sharon swatted her now bare ass. "I…I s-saw a picture, Mistress," she corrected.

Sharon smiled serenely. She was pleasantly surprised at how quickly her current plaything was learning. Perhaps Cassandra was submissive. Grinning deviously to herself, she decided to find out.

"Do you like having sex?"

Silence descended for a moment. Sharon rolled her eyes before pinching the other girl's thigh again. "Yes, Mistress, I like having sex!"

"Do you think about sex?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Do you masturbate when you think about sex?" Her hands moved softly over Cassandra's thighs, her fingers gently slipping between her thighs. At first, the girl clenched her legs together to stop it, but Sharon raked her nails along the inside of her thighs. Her legs soon relaxed, allowing the pressing fingers to continue on.

"Sometimes, Mistress." More and more, Sharon could hear defeat in her voice. Good.

"Have you ever thought about sex with other women?" Suddenly, Cassandra went rigid. I guess she knows where I'm heading, Sharon thought. "Well, bitch, have you?" When there was no answer, Sharon pulled her captive's hair and commenced another vicious spanking, which didn't stop until Cassandra began to scream and plead.

"Please, please stop! I'll tell you! I'll do anything, just please stop! It hurts so bad! Please, Mistress, please stop!"

Hearing this, Sharon stopped and smiled to herself while her victim cried. "Anything?" she queried, interested.

Still sobbing, Cassandra said, "Yes, Mistress, anything." The defeat in her voice was tangible now.

Grinning maliciously, Sharon moved the sore and abused girl off of her lap and stood. "Then eat my pussy and I'll let you go."

Silence. "You did say anything," she chided. "And that's what you'll do before I let you go."

Cassandra made no move to do anything. Rather, she stared up at her captor in mute horror and disbelief. Slowly, her head began to shake and she mouthed the word "No" repeatedly.

Sharon smiled at her plaything sadly. "Well, I gave you a free chance to get out of here. Now, you'll have to earn the right to eat my pussy. Before I'm done with you," her voice grew low and menacing, "you'll beg to eat me. And then, maybe I'll let you. But one way or another, you'll put that slutty tongue of yours in my cunt and make me cum all over your face," she promised.

Removing her collar and chain, the dominant woman secured the sore and sobbing girl to a shelf and left the room. "I'll be right back," she sang sweetly just before she turned off the light and closed the door.

Mike looked up from the magazine he was reading when Sharon reappeared. A puzzled look crossed his face and he pointed to his neck. "She's borrowing it," she explained. She went behind the counter and retrieved the Zima from the bottom shelf. As she walked by her lover, she whispered "Can you ring this up tomorrow night if I give you the money?" He nodded and went back to his magazine.

When she opened the door to the storeroom, Cassandra looked up at her helplessly, her eyes pleading for mercy she knew she wouldn't get. Sharon stopped for a moment to admire the way the light from the open door fell across her captive. The young girl looked so deliciously helpless and subjugated. More cream leaked into her panties at the sight.

Holding the carrier out, Sharon said, "You wanted to drink, so I brought you something to drink." She walked over to her bound plaything and unhooked the chain from the shelf and placed the bottles where Cassandra could see them without having to stand up. "Here, I'll even open one for you. I know that drinking sometimes helps people lose their inhibitions. You know, that way they feel more comfortable trying new things." God, she loved tormenting girls like this. It gave her such a rush, such a feeling of power and control. Of course, she knew how it felt to be in similar situations; as much as she loved being in control, the anticipation, the waiting, the guessing…that's what she craved. And Mike really knew how to push her buttons. He could be so unpredictable. Waiting and guessing kept her on her toes. But of course, she had learned well…

She opened a bottle and offered it to the girl on the floor. "Here, do you want a drink?" Cassandra shook her head. "But earlier, you were offering to 'make it up' to my boyfriend if he let you buy it. Now you have it. Drink up!" Not surprisingly, she didn't. Sharon had counted on this. "Well fine. Be an uppity bitch." Turning her hand over, she dumped the clear liquid on the floor. "Oops! Look at that! There's a mess all over the floor. Good thing I have someone here to clean it up for me." Smiling down at the girl cowering on the floor, she motioned to the spreading puddle. "Get to work."

"B-but how can I..." a slap across the face silenced Cassandra. "M-mistress, my h-hands…" another slap echoed in the small room.

"Well, then use your tongue, bitch!" To punctuate her words, Sharon yanked the chain towards the floor. When Cassandra didn't cooperate, Sharon reached into her shirt and pinched a nipple with her fingernails. "I'll let go when you start licking."

Soon enough, Cassandra was licking the floor clean while Sharon watched her from behind. The way her reddened ass moved was captivating; the impossibly short skirt played peek-a-boo with the hot flesh of her butt and thighs. Staring closely at the sliver of flesh visible between her thighs, Sharon swore she saw the telltale glistening of arousal. Intrigued, she bent closer to examine the exposed woman flesh. Sure enough, Cassandra's lips were pink and puffy and moisture sparkled along their edges. As the girl continued to lick the Zima from the floor, Sharon began to stroke her pussy lips. At first, Cassandra shivered and paused a moment, but a warning tap on her thigh was all it took to get her started again.

"Good girl. You're learning. But I don't want your tongue to get a cramp in it; you have more work to do with it later." Yanking the chain back, Sharon forced her to stop. The belt was simply enough to undo; it was set aside to be used later. She quickly pulled Cassandra's skirt off and threw it in the puddle. "Dry it up. Now."

Tears in her eyes, Cassandra took her skirt in her mouth and began to dry the floor. Taking advantage of her preoccupation, Sharon slowly began to trace her finger along her moist cleft. "See, I can be nice if I feel like it." She pushed her finger deep into Cassandra's cunt. "Just keep doing what I say and I won't be too mean. Who knows, maybe I'll even let you eat my pussy. Not that you've earned that right yet." After stroking deep inside of her for a moment, Sharon pulled the chain sharply and wiped her finger across her plaything's upper lip, causing her to wrinkle her nose in disgust. "What's the matter? Don't you like the way your own twat smells?"

Cassandra's mouth quivered and her skirt fell free. It was apparent that she didn't know how to answer.

"Well? Do you?" Still no answer. "Fine. Be that way, bitch. I'll fix you." She pushed Cassandra forward and pulled her high heels off of her feet. Kicking her legs apart, she pushed one slender heel between her plaything's pussy lips, stopping only when the sole was pressed firmly against her ass. Cassandra cried out, startled, as her pussy was fucked with her own shoe. Sharon smiled evilly as she violated her, knowing that the little vixen was succumbing. She might protest, but she liked the way she was being treated. The way that she was starting to push back against her shoe was a dead give away. It told Sharon that she liked feeling dirty—why else would she take such obvious pleasure from being fucked with the shoe she had worn all day?

When Cassandra began to gasp each time the heel was pushed into her hole, Sharon stopped. Grabbing her hair, the Dom pulled her head up roughly and pushed the heel into her mouth. Obediently, the little bitch began to suck her own juices from it. Deciding to push more, Sharon picked up the other shoe and pushed the heel deeply into the bitch's twat, fucking her mouth and pussy at the same time with her own shoes. And she loved it.