Dominatrix Nina Lockwood makes a comfortable living from well-connected clients who seek her out for her expert brand of disciplinary persuasion. She’s left behind an humble and troubled past to settle in London, and her dominance helps her feel in control of those around her.
But that all changes the day she meets Detective Ian Fleming. He’s been tasked with investigating the disappearance of a socialite last known to be in the company of a secretive society known as The Victorian Underground. Scotland Yard wants Nina to work with Detective Fleming, because she knows the scene. But they want her to go undercover as his submissive.
But Nina is no submissive. Or is she? Scotland Yard won’t take no for an answer, and neither will the darkly handsome detective determined to break the case, even if he has to break Nina in the process.
Publisher’s note: This is a very graphic story with both F/F and M/F BDSM scenes. Fiona Wilde fans be warned! This is a Fiona you haven’t seen before.
The tall blonde woman made an exquisite picture, her long elegant limbs arranged spread-eagle and bound to each post of the large king sized bed on which she lay. She was wearing a diaphanous nightie that left little to the imagination. The sleek mounds of her well-toned bottom were clearly visible through the translucent silk.
The sound of the leather riding crop had gotten her attention and she turned her head, the eyes above the gag brimming with lust and the fear of getting exactly what she’d come for.
A gloved hand reached out and lifted the hem of the nightie to the blonde woman’s long, narrow waist. “Have you been a bad girl, Lydia?”
The blonde moaned against the ball gag. Her eyes rolled back slightly as the riding crop touched her cheek and then trailed down over her face, down her neck and shoulder and down her back until it rested on the dimple just above her left buttock.
Nina Lockwood, or – as she was known professionally, Mistress Simone – always found this the best part of a session. A freshly presented client spread out like a canvas waiting to be marked. She looked at the woman on the bed, wondering how long she’d been showering, fixing her hair, exfoliating, waxing, buffing…all in preparation for this visit.
“I want you pretty when you come to me again,” she’d commanded on her last visit, eyeing the willowy CEO who knelt sobbing before her. “I don’t know who gave you that Brazilian but it’s not to my liking. When you come back I want it gone. Every last hair, got it? The only hair I want to see is this.” And she’d grabbed Lydia’s hair, jerked her head back and planted her lips on the waiting mouth of the other woman, absorbing her moan of passion, feeling her shudder in absolute delight. Simone had been particularly viscous on that particular day and had been amazed that – once again – she’d failed to find Lydia Fulbright’s limit.
“Perhaps today,” she whispered quietly as she moved the riding crop back and forth across the taller woman’s creamy haunches.
“I like your shaved pussy,” Simone told her bound client as her eyes swept back up to meet the other woman’s gaze. “But I don’t like that you were three minutes late to our little meeting. You know how I am about…” She raised the crop.
“Punctuality!” She emphasized the word with a hard blow of the crop across the other woman’s buttocks. Lydia Fulbright screamed against the gag. Her whole body shuddered violently. Nina frowned. She didn’t like seeing a client come so easily. It was just the first blow, for god sakes. They’d have to work on that.
Nina walked around to the other side of the bed. Lydia was panting against the gag. Nina took the crop and moved it between the woman’s long legs, parting the swollen lips of her pussy. She could see the moisture gleaming on the slick inner folds.
“Did you orgasm, Lydia?” she asked, her tone low and dangerous. Lydia whimpered, indicating that she knew she’d done something wrong. Nina walked to the front of the bed and pulled the gag off with one rough motion. Grabbing Lydia’s hair, she knelt in her stiletto heels, the leather of her corset creaking a bit as she lowered herself to where she could look in her client’s eyes.
“You know that you’re only supposed to orgasm when I say so….”
“I’m sorry,” Lydia babbled. “It’s just that it’s been two weeks. I couldn’t get here last week because I was in Paris for work and…”
“Shut up!” She shoved the blonde head back down onto the bed. Lydia looked the other way and began to cry. “I don’t want to hear your pathetic excuses. That’s all you’re good for, you know, making stupid, blubbering excuses. Somewhere along the way someone allowed you to get by with it.” She paused, slapping the tip of the crop against the leg of her tight leather pants. “But you won’t get away with that with me, will you?”
“No, Mistress Simone….”
“No, Mistress Simone…” Nina mocked her cruelly. “Do you really want to please me, Lydia? Because if you don’t I can just untie you and you can go…”
“No!” Lydia turned her face to the dominatrix. Her eyes were full of fear now and Nina was reminded of the adage, When a masochist says, ‘Beat me,’ a true sadist says, ‘No.’ She smirked.
“If you want me to help you truly learn to be a good girl, you’re going to have to ask me to help you get there. You’re going to have to beg me to correct you, because you know how much you need it. You know how unworthy you are, and you know how fortunate you are that I even allow you in my presence. But I told you from Day One that it is at my discretion and that I could release you at any time, could banish you from my sight should you disappoint me. So if you truly value what I’m willing to offer…if you truly want and need my training, I expect you to show me….”
As she talked, Nina walked around the bed, undoing the restraints. When she’d undone the last one, she ordered her client to get off the bed and kneel before her. Lydia Fulbright was all too quick to comply. Nina has seated herself in a chair that sat on a little raised platform. As she stared down at the kneeling blonde woman, she surreptitiously placed her fingers on a keypad underneath the arm of the chair. The tiny cameras controlled by the buttons were positioned around the room and they began to move now, pointing to and focusing in on the blonde woman from all angles.
“Stand up,” Nina barked. Lydia complied.
“Put your hands on your head.”
Lydia obeyed and stared down at Nina, who, despite her diminutive size, still proved an imposing presence. Her glossy black hair was pulled back in a bun. Her red lipstick accentuated her full mouth. Her dark eyes were carefully made up, making them look deceptively large and innocent in her pale face. She did not look as severe as some dommes, but that was what made her in part so popular. Mistress Simone was deceptively pretty and feminine, but gloriously brutal when it counted.
“”Good, good,” she said, circling the blonde woman. Reaching out, she untied the bows holding the front of the nightie together and pushed it from her client’s body. Lydia’s heavy breasts were topped with large, dusky nipples. Nina slapped each one in turn with the tip of the crop, watching Lydia’s face as the areolas began to swell from the repeated licks lavished on them by the implement.
“OOOooooohhhh…” she was saying and Nina grabbed her chin in one hand.
“Don’t you dare cum,” she said, and the blonde whimpered.
“Spread your legs and bend over,” she said. “And arch your back. I want to see that hot, wet, greedy cunt.”
Lydia moaned again. Nina moved out of the way, making sure the cameras were getting plenty of footage. She waited for a moment, allowing her client to stand in that rather uncomfortable position – legs spread, leaning forward with her hands clasped at her back, breasts hanging down.
“Good, just as you’ve been taught. So, Lydia. You can do something right.”
She licked each nipple with the crop just one more time and smiled as tears began coursing down Lydia’s face. But her client was being good – very good. Nina knew her breasts had to be incredibly sore. Perhaps it was time to give her what she wanted.
“I think you’ve earned the paddle,” she said. She looked at Lydia’s face as she made the pronouncement and could see her client trying not to look as excited as she obviously felt. Different clients liked different things. Some liked to be whipped and strapped, some liked to be bound and gagged, some liked to have their most sensitive parts twisted, pinched, squeezed or struck. Some liked to be humiliated and denied. And some, like Lydia, liked to be spanked. The paddle was her favorite, which was why Nina used it the very last. She knew that even when she wasn’t giving the clients exactly what they wanted early in the session, she was. The pain of almost getting what they wanted just built the tension to the point that when they did, it was an almost mind-blowing experience.
“Yes, Mistress. Whatever you say, Mistress..” Lydia’s voice was shaking but it was more from excitement than fear. Nina moved to the side of her and ran her hand down the creamy mounds of her clients bottom. She rested her fingertips on the welts left by the riding crop for just a moment before lightly raking her nails across the stripes. Lydia whimpered. Nina stepped back, raised the paddle and brought it down hard on the underside of her buttock just above the left thigh.
Lydia pitched forward but held her position. Mistress Simone became angry – very angry – if she got out of position and the beautiful blonde would do nothing to intentionally raise her mistress’ ire. Nina knew that. In fact, she cultivated just that very obedience in her clients, both in and out of the bedroom. She was their living nightmare, their walking fantasy. She was dominant sex on legs. Her livelihood depended on it, and a very good livelihood it was.
“Hold your position,” she ordered. Lydia was standing on a very expensive antique Turkish rug that measured about four by six feet. It was positioned between the bed and the fireplace and Mistress Simone’s rule was that no matter how hard she struck a client, they were not to put a toe off the rug. Lydia was doing particularly well today. Her bottom was now covered in red splotches. The Lexan paddle was a brutal implement. Tears were coursing down Lydia’s face, taking heavy make-up along with it. Nina frowned. She didn’t want a mess dripping on her rug. Time to move the action back to the bed.
She ordered Lydia to lay down on her back and spread her legs. Lydia was crying and moaning. Her hands were clenching and unclenching. Nina knew what she wanted. She walked over to a tall cabinet and opened a drawer. Inside was an array of dildos. She looked through them and picked up a smooth, large mahogany phallus she had custom made by a friend in Indonesia.
She turned and walked over to the bed.
“I want to see you cum,” she said. “But only when I tell you to.” She lay the mahogany dildo on the bed. “You’ll start with your fingers.”
Nina walked to the end of the bed. Lydia stared up between her spread legs, her eyes fixed on her mistress’ beautiful face. Her fingers moved to her swollen clit, and as she began to work the sensitive nub her own face became flushed with desire. She threw her head back and panted as her elegant, manicured fingers of one hand worked the clit while the first two on the other hand began to delve into the dewy slit. Her breasts rose to firm peaks and Nina strode up the side of the bed and flicked first one nipple and then the other as her client moaned. She could tell that Lydia was fighting the urge to come and reminded her firmly that she’d not been given permission, even as she ordered her client to continue the stimulation.
Nina picked up the dildo and laid it on her client’s belly.
“It’s time,” she said.
Lydia’s hands were shaking as she picked up the shiny dark wood shaft and drove it deep inside her pussy. It was large and Nina knew that part of the excitement for Lydia was in the sudden, nearly painful invasion of the shaft. Her hips moved upwards to meet the downward thrusts of the phallus. Her eyes were fixed on her Mistress and Nina smirked and nodded.
“Cum for me. Now.”
Lydia cried out, barely able to hold on to the handle of the dildo as her pussy convulsed around it. Her body shuddered dramatically. Lydia threw her head back and panted as a pink flush suffused her fair skin.
“Good girl,” Nina said. “Now get dressed and I’ll fix you a snack.”
She left and went down the hall to her own personal bedroom, entering its walk-in closet. Nina carefully removed the tight leather pants and corset and high leather boots and replaced the garb with a silk robe. She let her hair down, enjoying the feel of the raven tresses as they cascaded around her shoulders.
Lydia was already in the dining room when she arrived. She was wearing a blue business suit and expensive matching shoes. Her hair was styled in a classic up-do, her make-up impeccably re-applied. A Fendi briefcase sat at her feet.
“Off to work, then?” she asked. Nina took the seat across from her client and leaned back, crossing her short but shapely legs. Her maid, Martina, had laid out a nice brunch for the both of them, along with Nina’s customary post-appointment cigarette, which she now lit and inhaled.
“Yes,” Lydia said, answering her question. I was hoping to take the day off, but it looks like it’s not going to happen.
“Really?” Nina smiled and leaned forward. “The acquisition is actually going to go through?”
“It is,” Lydia replied. “And our agency isn’t going to block it, which will mean that my next few days will involve a shitstorm of media inquiries.” She looked up and thanked Martina, who had piled her plate with food before turning her attention back to Nina.
“That’s why I….it’s part of the reason I needed you so much today. I know it’s going to be twelve hours of beating back a bunch of reporters looking for a way to criticize the administration’s decision to let this go through. It’s an election season, after all and everyone wants to jump in the pool when there’s blood in the water.” She sighed. “Today…well, it helps.”
Nina smiled. Lydia wasn’t the only one who was helped by their relationship. In addition to the fee she charged her clients, Mistress Simone also made a very comfortable income through insider trading. She was often taciturn with her clients, and the nervous ones filled that silence by talking, usually about work. When Lydia had mentioned working on a case involving the possible acquisition of TeleFirm by ComTech Industries, she’d placed a call to her broker. Even now she texted him while Lydia talked, ordering him to buy a hundred more shares of ComTech before the market opened.
“Will you be free next week?” Lydia asked. “If things die down I will need…”
“I’m quite sure that we can arrange something for Wednesday afternoon after you get off work. Just text me and we’ll see what I have available.”
“Thank you, Mistress,” Lydia said and Nina smiled, reveling in her own power. Even though her client was expected to be on her job at the Ministry of Justice within the next hour, she knew that if she ordered her back upstairs she’d go. It was a heady kind of power. And it never got old.
It was starting to rain when Lydia finally left. Nina thanked Martina for the lovely breakfast and then headed upstairs to tend to the least favorite part of her job, cleaning the “toys” as she called them. This task she did not leave to her maid. Martina was a faithful servant, and Nina knew that despite the fact that she knew little English she was well aware of what her employer did. But Martina said little, and Nina honored that discretion by not asking her to do certain tasks she felt would make her uncomfortable. In a world where the 5’1″ dominatrix spent her days putting heads of government in subservient positions, the one person she treated as an equal was her housekeeper.
Cleanliness was extremely important to Nina, who listened to opera in the bathroom as she disinfected the clamps, crops, paddles, dildos and other props from her encounter with Lydia. Afterwards she showered herself and then dressed for the day in a form-flattering black dress. Her next appointment was at three o’clock – a new client referred by Richard Weller, a U.N. official who had been coming to her for three years. He’d sent her five clients, including a rather colorful former Russian spy – a 6’3″ behemoth who was part of a witness protection program. The man had a penchant for wearing women’s underwear and being walked around Nina’s townhouse on a leash.
Having finished her chores, she settled down to her computer. The video and pictures of Lydia were especially good this time. People were so gullible, so quick to believe that she actually cared about them. It was sad, really, and she wondered what would possess someone to give up their power to another person, even on a temporary basis when even a moment’s vulnerability could destroy them personally and professionally. But everyone had their comfort zone, and hers was being in complete and total control. It felt safe, being firmly ensconced in the Catbird Seat.
Nina slipped the flash drive in to the USB port and downloaded the latest picture and video files. After ejecting it she walked over to where a small picture hung on the wall. It was an 18th century painting of an ancient Scottish fortress. Moving it aside, she opened the wall safe that lay behind it and placed the drive inside.
It was raining harder outside and she found herself suddenly wishing she’d not booked two appointments in one day. Usually she did not, but Richard Weller had all but begged her to indulge his friend, who was only going to be in London for the day. Nina – ever wary – had thoroughly researched Jackson Lowell. He was a private art collector with a large inherited fortune. Weller had described Lowell as very secretive, slightly paranoid and a bit quirky.
“He’s intensely private,” Weller had told Nina as they’d enjoyed scones after a session. He was still wearing a custom-made tutu and white high heels, the wispy white hair of his chest poking like little wires over the top of the straining bodice. “Don’t be alarmed if you don’t find much about him online. He won’t get near a computer. Peculiar fellow, very peculiar.”
“I’m not fond of ‘peculiar,'” she’d told him. “I’m not in this business to be intrigued or amused, Richard. I’m in this business to make money. And to please my clients, of course.”
“Then do this to please me,” Richard Weller had said. “Do it for an old friend. I owe this gentleman a favor; women like you – talented women – are in short supply, Mistress Simone. And if I can curry favor with an art collector, my darling Shirley will consider me a hero. And we know how much I love my wife..”
They both chuckled at that, and Nina had agreed to take on this client based on Weller’s recommendation. But what to wear? From what Weller had told her, the man liked being handcuffed and had a fetish for women in uniform. Nina had purchased a very daring and sexy costume which she’d never worn and decided this would be the perfect day to debut it. The dress was short, riding up to the base of her bottom, and was paired with black stockings, garters and high-heeled leather boots. The crowning touch was a cop hat. The dress had hooks at the waist for her trusty riding crop and a pair of cuffs.