Jane by Mistress Bo

Jane by Mistress Bo

Jane the impressionable blonde, begins to pour the relentless drama of her recent lover now lost. She is tired and needs a place to stay. I drown her with whisky while my glasses fill with ginger-ale. She’s a lost, sweet soul, adrift in the city’s sleepless nights, blown to my direction by the highways of Lincoln, Nebraska. She likes women she likes men, her style indecipherable but her words are precise and her diction exquisite. Soon we are in a cab and I am explaining the arrangements. She is eager, willing and does not hesitate. I know then, that she has little to any comprehension. She enters the room and a puzzled look falls upon her ashen face. Her shoulders quivering, a moan escaping her parted lips, she turns to gaze at me. I understand this look. She is cold, lonely, dreaming but wishing she was awake. There is a tub, a toilet, a window and a tiled floor. She barely stands, her weight slouching her body to the left. Get in the tub, before I throw you in. You are not to leave this room. You are not to speak unless spoken to. You will not move from here until morning.

I stroke the switch with my piano fingers and cup my yawning face with the other. She surrenders effortlessly, peeling her feet off the aubergine mat and stepping into the cold marble bath. I sleep and wake refreshed in my pampered bed. Slipping out of my silk-satin sheets I saunter towards the slave quarters to check on my pet. Listless she lays, round and creamy, naked and deep in her drunken slumber. I thrust on the hot water and watch her dismembered thrashing and listen pleasurably to her banshee screams. The water scalds her aching flesh for 5 minutes after which I return with a long bread knife to gnaw at her precious golden locks. Finishing this regimented cleaning with an extended NIX treatment to her scalp and pubes I then bend her torso forward and flat. Her bottom is now by my face and her back pounded by the water still. I trace a razor up the seams of her legs, then spreading her ass with my left hand I skin the crease of her behind leaving nothing but bareness and an irresistible smoothness. Reaching around to what womanhood she has left I strip her eden bare, the forbidden fruit now no longer hidden. Her clothes, phone, wallet and coat discarded, not even a towel accessible. She is to be my nude servant, even her collar she must earn. 

The steam continues to billow through the air, bleeding a foggy pall over the room and the others. She is looking far ahead, a proudness still present in her posture, and a look of martyrdom in her eyes. The intake is over. I take her hand in mine and delicately lead her to the parlor room where she will sit as she is so clean on my black leather wingback chair. This porcelain puppet, all propped on my tufted throne. One has only to see her to recognize how far in a violent world the conjuring force of desire can go. Flames encircle our soiree as I rehearse essential codes of conduct. Forcefully parting her legs with each instruction. Her eyes begin to well and meander the room. Look at me you slut. 

My nails churning her buttery flesh. I spit on her gaping cunt and grind the sole of my booted gams onto her parted lower lips. My heel rubs her labia violently. Don’t you fucking say a word, put your hands at your sides. I continue to fuck her forcefully with my boot, letting her lick the fresh scent on my shoe with her sissy tongue. Grabbing the nape of her neck I thrust her face to my feet, and take a seat on her skull. Talk to my feet tell them how wonderful they are for dutifully pleasing you, kiss them with your whole mouth, lay your tongue on their tip. Now candle in hand I mercilessly illustrate on her back. Pouring the hot wax down her spine, each shudder and tremor encouraging me more. She begins to cry and I kick her slobbering face off my boots. Throwing the candle and stepping off my seat I am infuriated by this disobedience. I slap her. Hard. She catches her breath and stops for one god damn second, but then the stifles return and the true catharsis begins. Choking her tears her nose runs instead and snot is bubbling at the edge of her nostrils. I’m so glad her hair isn’t there obscuring such a beautiful sight. I pinch her nose and plant my other hand on her mouth, throwing this mask against the back of the chair. Don’t you cry now, I’ve done nothing yet. 

Face down on the floor. The day is passing quickly. I return with the glass of water I had left the night before. How stupid you are to not enjoy these things, did you not know it was your last? I throw the contents at her face. I have been drinking plenty, my stream will be powerful, and you will tell me just so when I relieve myself along your dollish backside.. Ahh….. Its time to feed this sad, sad pet. I place a can of tuna at the floor nearest to her face, the opener in hand, I squat to lazily open it, squirting oils and smutty juices every which way. The lid is barely plied off when I return it to her. Her wrists I then cuff behind her back. 

You will eat like a dog, because you will sleep, piss and shit like one, all in your piss-shit-den-tub. I talk more filth about her doghouse and her toilet-tank-bowl of water. She barely eats. I force her face deep into the can. You will eat every pathetic, tiny, tasteless, morsel from this here. Whether your tongue be just bloody or sawed off. I want to watch you eat desperately and hungrily with complete abandon. I want to hear the plucking of your tongue against the slick and sharp tin edges. Please your Mistress, as I pleased your pink pussy before. Trickles of blood begin to form from the serrated edges of the can. She lays in a pool of water, her bloody tongue working at the can. I bridge my legs over her back and garnish her body and dinner with my nectar. 

To Be Continued……