Mistress Extreme

Book 0: The Mistress Series

by Alex Jordaine

Genres: Erotic & Steamy Romance

Synopsis

SHE TORMENTS HIM TO THE EXTREME...AND BEYOND David falls under the hypnotic influence of stunning dominatrix, Mistress Isabella. She pushes him to his limits, subjecting him to one painful and humiliating trial after another, before eventually allowing him to become her house-slave. But trouble is just round the corner for David. He allows himself to be seduced by cunning female submissive Jacqui and tries unsuccessfully to deceive Isabella about it. The torturous punishment that follows takes David to the very end of his tether. But still Isabella is not finished with him. Now he faces by far the greatest of all his trials. This time his whole future with his Mistress is on the line. Alex Jordaine is the UK's leading Femdom writer and has also been widely published in the US.

Release date: April 21, 2011

Publisher: Accent Press

Print pages: 234

Sample

David Alexander stood in the orange glow of the street light and stared at the door entry panel to the property before him. It was a three-storey Regency house bounded by metal railings. The solid front door of the house was framed by two pillars and approached by wide stone steps. This elegant dwelling was in a quiet and graceful part of Brighton, the vibrant seaside city on the south coast of England that had been David’s home for most of his 35 years. It was a warm night and the air was mild, just a slight salty breeze that had blown in off the Channel.

David felt a knot in his stomach and an ache in his groin and a confusion of emotions in his mind. What on earth was he doing here at Isabella Stern’s address at this time of night? What was he doing here at all for that matter? He barely knew the woman, for God’s sake, although he knew enough to be aware that she was married. That in itself ought to have deterred him from coming here but it hadn’t. He knew that she was heavily into kinky sex too. That should have deterred him as well, shouldn’t it? Shouldn’t it?

David felt dog tired all of a sudden, drained of all strength, and sick of himself for being so weak-willed as to have come here in the first place. He felt frightened too, couldn’t stop himself from trembling. But it wasn’t too late. All he needed to do was to go back to his car and drive home, nothing could be simpler. He was sorely tempted to do that too, went so far as to feel in his jacket pocket for his car keys. But he didn’t pull them out. Instead his fingers came out of his pocket as if of their own accord and punched at the entry panel. And that was when the die was cast; that was when David’s fate was irreversibly sealed.

What if? he used to say to himself afterwards. What if he had known then by means of some strange quirk of chronology what was going to happen to him? What would he have done? Turned around and got in the car and gone home again? Because if ever there had been a point at which he could have changed things it had been when he’d been gazing at that entrance panel, trying to decide whether to go home or to press to request entry. But “What ifs” didn’t help at all, they were irrelevant. The fact is that he did what he did and from that point on he was lost.

The next few moments passed as if in a dream and suddenly David found himself in a big, high-ceilinged living room filled with pristine antiques, rare china and fine oil paintings. The room was very imposing but then so too was the imperious raven haired beauty in high stiletto-heeled boots and a skin-tight cat suit who had let David into the property and before whom he was now standing.

That exquisite black leather outfit accentuated Isabella Stern’s shapely form exceptionally well, moulding itself beautifully to her perfect curves. Indeed everything about Isabella was perfectly formed. She was truly stunning to behold and conveyed such a powerful image of dark desirability and dominance that it made David’s blood race through his veins. Her lustrous shoulder length hair was jet-black. Her large shining eyes had a strikingly Asiatic cast and, just as strikingly, were as black as coal. She had luminescent white skin by contrast, high cheekbones and a wide, sensuous mouth. Her sleek, exquisitely shaped body moved with a feline insolence, cat-like indeed in the tight leather cat suit that clung to it like a second skin.

She had an extraordinary presence too, a regal bearing, a poise and elegance that immediately commanded respect. The expression she was wearing on her face right then was cold and cruel, though. In fact she looked incredibly cruel. In truth, Isabella looked at that instant essentially what she was: a predatory bitch-goddess, an extraordinarily sadistic femme fatale. David couldn’t possibly have known the amazing depths of Isabella’s sadism and depravity, not then. But he did know that she scared him to death … and excited him immensely. A sudden shiver of fear ran through him and connected to his cock, giving him an erection that pressed with painful urgency against the crotch of his black jeans.

Isabella hadn’t said anything when she’d let David in, had just led him through to her luxurious living room. She remained silent now. As for David, he couldn’t say anything, couldn’t stop shaking either. He knew instinctively and without doubt that what was about to happen to him was going to change his life forever, that he was going to emerge from this encounter a different man.

Isabella stared at David, her heavy-lidded eyes hypnotic, her lips so sensuous that he yearned to kiss them but, of course, he didn’t dare do any such thing. His heart was beating fast and he felt barely able to breathe. The silence in the room became deafening but still she didn’t say a word, nor did he.

Then Isabella did finally speak. ‘Strip naked for me,’ she commanded, staring into his blue eyes. David immediately obeyed, taking off all his clothing in double-quick time. He tried to control his shaking, but couldn’t. He tried to control his sexual excitement too, but couldn’t do that either. His cock was rigidly erect now and pulsing constantly. Isabella gave him a slow up-and-down look, her sinful black eyes moving hotly over his body as he waited, waited for her first touch. But she was in no hurry. Her eyes lingered on his skin, disturbing and exciting him more and more. She strode round him in a slow circle, seeming to examine every detail of his fine, toned body, until she’d completed her circle and was standing in front of him again.

Still Isabella didn’t touch David, though, simply kept looking at him. But what a look! Her shining eyes were as intense as search lights, and David was now irrevocably caught in their beam as she gazed directly into his eyes. Nobody had ever looked at him like that before. He could feel Isabella’s eyes boring into him, tormenting him with desire. His body cried out for her touch, couldn’t stop shaking. But still she kept staring and staring into his eyes. And that piercing, hypnotic stare had the strangest effect on David. It made him feel as if he was starting to be transformed right there and then into another person, not himself.

When David thought back, he was sure that it was at this point in his visit that Isabella had begun to hypnotize him or brainwash him or whatever the hell it was she’d gone on to do. He remembered that she had only been gazing at him in that amazingly intense way for a short while before he got the weird sensation that he was beginning to be transformed. Then something happened to the focussing mechanism of his own eyes. Everything blurred and disappeared for what seemed like only a moment. But when his vision reasserted itself and David readjusted his eyes to the reality of the world, that world seemed to have shifted on its axis and he was no longer the man he’d once been but was someone else instead.

At last Isabella averted her hypnotic gaze from David’s eyes. He took the opportunity to glance down, to reassure himself that he was still there, to check whether she had exchanged him in some way for somebody else. It was the same body he’d arrived in. But that didn’t help somehow because he felt different inside his own skin.

Isabella reached out her hand in the direction of David, or the person who resembled him as closely as if he was his identical twin. She moved her fingers lightly and with agonising slowness over his mop of dark hair and down the cheeks of his finely sculpted face to the smooth, muscular contours of his arms and his chest. David could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage. He could hear his breathing coming faster as Isabella moved her hand tantalisingly further south before taking hold of his erection and squeezing it. That touch was like an electric jolt; it made him gasp, nearly climax.

Isabella slapped his cock away from her dismissively. ‘Kneel before me,’ she demanded, her voice as hard as a hammer hitting a nail, and down on to his knees David went without even thinking. He felt faint with excitement as he waited for her next move; he was still shaking. His heart was racing. His breathing had become even more laboured. Isabella moved behind David again so he couldn’t see her. Then he couldn’t see anything as he felt the soft leather blindfold cover his eyes and felt Isabella buckle it into place behind his head. Then nothing. He could see nothing, could hear nothing but the uneven rhythm of his own breathing. David didn’t know where Isabella was now. He didn’t know where he was really, felt as if he’d been transported to some strange erotic limbo land.

But David knew where he had been less than an hour ago when he’d got Isabella’s call. He had been in his house and fresh out of the shower. He’d picked up the phone on the second ring and held it to his ear. ‘Are you on your own?’ she’d said and he had replied that he was, asking what he could do for her.

‘Get yourself over to my place now,’ had been Isabella’s reply. Then the line had gone dead.

And here he was at her place, naked and blindfolded and on his knees, shaking like a leaf, breathing heavily ... and more sexually aroused than he’d ever been in his entire life.

David was shaking more than ever now, could feel spasms of desire shuddering through his body. His breathing was short and shallow, coming in ragged bursts from his chest. His cock was steely-hard and throbbing fit to burst.

Isabella! How he wished he could see her, hear her voice, feel her touch on his skin, this woman he barely knew but to whom, in some inexplicable way, he now felt he belonged.

Time stretched like infinity and all remained complete silence from Isabella, not a word from her, not a sound. Isabella didn’t speak to David, didn’t touch him, didn’t seem to even move or breathe; it was eerie.

Then he heard her moving behind him and everything in him stopped: his heart, his breathing, his thinking even – that is, until he felt her fingers on the back of his neck. Then David’s imagination suddenly went into complete overdrive. What in hell’s name was Isabella going to do next? Trail her fingers down his back before – what? – hand-spanking him? Or would she take a belt to him instead, or a whip or a paddle? Would she beat him really hard, beat him black and blue? Ohmigod!

But Isabella did none of these things. Instead she brought her fingers up from David’s neck to the back of his head and unbuckled his blindfold. ‘Get dressed and go home now,’ she said, her voice icy cold. ‘When I want to see you again, I’ll call you. Don’t ever call me.’

And that was that. It was over.

In what seemed like no more than the blink of an eye David found himself back on the street, walking like an automaton towards his car in the sulphur glow of the street lights. Isabella Stern had done nothing to him, nothing. Yet already he’d started waiting for her next call, knowing that he would be unable to put her out of his mind for even a moment until he heard from her again.

David felt that he belonged to Isabella now. She could do anything she wanted to him. He would obey all her instructions, follow her anywhere, submit to any of her demands, no matter how extreme they might be, no matter how sadistic. But this was all complete madness, wasn’t it; madness heaped upon madness. Where were these demented thoughts coming from? David simply had no idea. Isabella had done nothing to him. She had hardly touched him – physically, that is; but mentally, oh dear, that was a very different matter.

David didn’t understand the dramatic, the profound, the sinisterly bewitching effect Isabella had had on him, didn’t understand it at all. It terrified and aroused him in equal measure; he was still rock-hard when he climbed into his car. Isabella Stern was some sort of demonic force he was powerless to resist, was that it? Or had she hypnotized him in some way, put him under her dark spell? Or was it a perverse combination of the two? It was all thoroughly irrational, this distorted, demented way of thinking, utter lunacy. But if anyone had tried to tell David that, he wouldn’t have taken any notice.

There was no logical explanation for why he should feel the way he did but David knew – just knew – that he belonged to Isabella now, belonged to her completely. It wasn’t a rational thing at all. It was a visceral thing; he felt it in his gut, felt it to the very depth of his being. He felt it more deeply than he’d ever felt anything before. He yearned – no ached – to see her again.

David waited and waited for Isabella to call him again, and waited and waited some more. He didn’t work these days – was in the privileged position of not needing to – so he had all the time in the world to spend waiting. Every day that passed was an intense erotic torment for him. He waited by the phone when he was at home, and kept his cell phone with him all the time he wasn’t. He shivered with sexual anticipation each time either phone rang. But whenever it happened it was never her.

David thought of nothing, nobody but Isabella. He thought about her dark and dominating allure, her perverse sexuality. He thought about her flawless beauty: her glossy black hair, her arrestingly beautiful face, her perfect alabaster skin, her full lips, her hypnotic eyes that were the colour of black ice and just as hard. He thought about the electric touch of her hands on his skin, the commanding tone of her voice. He played over and over in his head like an endless tape loop the few words she’d actually ever spoken to him.

Why did he yearn for Isabella so much? Why did he ache for her the way he did? What was the secret of the hold she had over him? How had she been able to bewitch him so totally? Isabella’s face and body and voice were unsettling enough to David, but what had really got under his skin was her cold-hearted impulse towards domination and – he was sure of it – great cruelty. It had touched a raw nerve of submissiveness in him that had previously lain buried well beneath the surface, sublimated by the very conventional way of life he’d led before meeting her. But it was more than submissiveness. David now recognised his innate sexual masochism too, something of which he’d previously been entirely unaware at any conscious level. With each passing day, his yearning for Isabella grew stronger and so did his yearning for her to dominate and discipline him.

Every morning, David’s first thought as he awoke was that maybe this would be the day Isabella would call him. But she didn’t call. Perhaps she’d forgotten him, he wondered, or had decided to turn her attentions to someone else, or perhaps even return her attentions exclusively to her husband. Such ideas were too unbearable to contemplate.

Maybe Isabella had thought about it and decided that he wasn’t worth bothering with, that he wasn’t worthy of her. That would be understandable; he knew he wasn’t worthy of her. But he was willing to give his all to her, pay homage to her, devote himself to her pleasure. She could do what she wanted with him. She could treat him as sadistically as she liked, beat the fuck out of him. He could take it, wanted to take it. He would do anything she ordered him to do, no matter how humiliating it was for him, no matter how painful, how perverted.

David thought about Isabella all the time and it was driving him crazy – literally. He realised that he was now in the iron grip of some powerful form of erotic dementia. And, strange though it may seem, that didn’t concern him, not at all. He wanted to be in its grip. David couldn’t do without Isabella. He waited in a permanently sexed-up state of anticipation for her to call him, prayed for her to send for him.

Whenever David thought about Isabella it made his cock hard and he masturbated. He thought about her constantly and his cock was constantly hard. He took to going nude and tumescent around his house, which had thick net curtains at all the windows – David was a man who greatly valued his privacy. Naked and stiffly erect, he masturbated constantly, thinking about Isabella all the time. He would fantasise about her and masturbate for hours at a time, edging all the while – holding back his climax – and when he finally allowed it to come, it would be overpowering, the shuddering spasms seeming to go on forever. And then before long he’d start thinking and fantasising about Isabella all over again, and get hard again, and masturbate again for ages and ages, and eventually climax again, and the climax would be overwhelming. And so it went on. David was racked with desire for Isabella, consumed by his desire to see her. Every day his burning desire to see her grew stronger.

Isabella had to phone, she just had to. After all, David couldn’t prove to her what he was capable of if she didn’t at least give him a chance. He couldn’t show her how submissive he could be, how degraded, how much pain he could take. He couldn’t prove to her that he was willing to give himself to her totally, unreservedly.

David was unable to sleep without thinking about Isabella, was unable to sleep because of thinking about her. He couldn’t get through a single hour of the day without thinking about her constantly, masturbating constantly – stroking, stroking, always stroking. David thought about Isabella all the time as he stroked his cock, imagining S&M scenarios where he was completely at her mercy. He thought about prostrating himself naked before her. He thought about being trussed up tightly by her, his limbs immobilized. He imagined being beaten most cruelly by her as he struggled futilely against the tight ropes with which she’d bound him, gasping into the ball gag with which she’d gagged him.

David imagined Isabella bringing her flogger down harshly on his backside over and over again, every one of her lashes intensely sharp and stinging. He imagined the series of angry red welts that would appear on his naked flesh as a result of the harsh beating she was inflicting on him, imagined the muffled cries he would emit from beneath his ball gag as the beating went relentlessly on. He imagined Isabella flogging him with amazing savagery now, beating him so harshly that agonizing pain began coursing through him.

As David imagined the agony Isabella was inflicting on him with her whip, he wallowed in his imaginings, luxuriated in them, got more and more turned on by them. And the more turned on he became, the more he masturbated – although he was always careful to hold his climax in check. Eventually however the sensation became so intense that he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out very much longer, that he was ever closer to climaxing, and he began to surrender to the feeling.

The closer David got to climaxing, his hand moving rhythmically over his pulsing erection, the more intensely he fantasised about the incredible torment to which Isabella was subjecting him. In his mind, she was showing him no mercy whatsoever as she sexually tortured him, making him writhe and squirm helplessly within his tight rope bondage in intense pain as the ferocious lashes from her whip carried on landing across his rear.

In his mind, Isabella continued beating David without mercy, causing him to breathe heavily with the pain that he fantasised was searing through his body. And as he drew breath after shuddering breath in reaction to this imagined torture, he felt himself on the very brink of climaxing. The waves were spreading, filling him with wild pleasure. He was shaking, palpitating; his heart was thumping.

And then David was past the point of no return. He felt his cock swell and throb within his fist as he reached his peak. He tensed his body in his imaginary rope bonds, gasped into his imaginary ball gag and then gave himself to the surging sensations that had taken over his body. David stroked his aching erection to a gushing climax, ejaculating rope after rope of creamy come as the torture being inflicted on his body by Isabella continued unabated … inside his mind.

Masturbatory fantasies such as these – constant masturbatory fantasies such as these – about Isabella and the sadistic things he’d like her to do to him were all very well. But when would he actually see her in person again? He already knew he couldn’t do without Isabella. But she could obviously do perfectly well without him. Because she didn’t call. She’d abandoned him, it seemed, after giving him a tantalising glimpse of her dark and deviant world. David wanted so much to be part of Isabella’s world, wanted to let her take him into the very darkest parts of that world, parts more utterly depraved and sexually perverted than he’d ever dreamed could be possible.

Time passed – weeks – and the torment of not hearing from Isabella did not ease. It got much worse. How could he have let this happen to him, he wondered desperately. Why couldn’t he just forget all about Isabella, forget the seductive lure of pain and submission that she held out for him? But he couldn’t forget about her. She had become his complete obsession, consuming all his thoughts and leaving no room for anything else.

David didn’t know who he was any more, felt he no longer really existed. Except he did exist because he belonged to Isabella. But that was the only sense in which he existed. Never in the past could he have foreseen that he would end up in a situation like this, ready to submit himself totally to a woman he hardly knew, who treated him in such a cruelly indifferent and cavalier manner – ready to submit totally to her because she treated him that way. Isabella had done all this to him. He felt as if she’d pulled some invisible lever causing him to plunge through the false floor of his “normal” world and drop into the wholly different reality of her dark world, the place he’d wanted to be all along without ever before realising it.

The old David Alexander had been a footloose and fancy-free bachelor. That’s how he’d liked to think of himself anyway. He was very good-looking and dead sexy; he’d been told that enough times by former lovers, of whom there had certainly been no shortage. They never used to boss him around either, those legions of young women. David had always been the one that made all the running, who’d loved them and then left them when he wanted to, tossing them away as casually as sweet wrappers. Then Isabella had come into his life and changed it beyond recognition, changed him beyond recognition. And now he had to endure the emptiness of not seeing her, the pain of her sheer indifference, his insatiable aching desire for her.

David’s cell phone rang.

It must be h. . .