Jodie sat down on a corner of the chaise and looked down at the bound figure of Miss White. On the whole she did not appear to be in such bad shape — parts of her body were glowing red, but the skin had not been broken. Jodie screwed the cap off the jar, took a big handful of cream, and began to rub it into the most afflicted areas.
Miss White sighed with relief. “Thanks,” she said quietly, and smiled weakly. Jodie glanced at the older woman’s face, then quickly looked away — tears had formed in the corners of Miss White’s eyes, something that Jodie simply could not stand to see.
Rolling on to her side, Miss White asked Jodie, “Could you get these clamps off?”
Jodie hesitated. Could this be included under the directive to “soothe”? Looking at the direction in which the Dean had departed, she stuttered, “I’m... uh... not sure if I’m supposed to.”
Miss White swore under her breath. Jodie’s submissiveness was a double-edged sword, and in this moment she was more afraid of the Dean than of Miss White. Which was only natural, she reminded herself — the Dean was in charge here, while Miss White was bound and helpless, in no position to be giving orders or dealing out punishment. She decided to let it go; she and Jodie would sort things out when this was over.
When the Dean returned she was wearing the hugest strap-on Miss White had ever laid eyes on, a thick black monster with a bulbous mushroom head. She’d seen bigger ones in porn, but those had always seemed like jokes, while this one was deadly serious; it loomed larger with every step the Dean took in her direction. Miss White felt a knot in her stomach as the Dean came closer and the dildo’s single eye winked at her ominously.
Sinking to one knee in front of the chaise, the Dean used the chain between Miss White’s nipple clamps to pull her closer. “Open wide, Alexis,” she said.
Miss White took a deep breath and obeyed. What was the point in resisting? She tried to relax as the massive head pushed into her mouth — it barely fit, even with her jaws stretched as wide as they'd go.
Jodie watched, fascinated, as more and more of the strap-on disappeared into Miss White’s mouth. The head was the thickest part, so by relaxing her throat she was able to take down an impressive amount of the shaft — not all of it, but most — before starting to gag. When she did the Dean pushed just a little bit farther in, enjoying the look of wide-eyed panic that flitted across Miss White’s face, before starting to ease out. There was nothing sexy about somebody throwing up.
The Dean fucked Miss White’s mouth both tenderly and brutally as her right hand trailed down the bound woman’s belly, through her pubic hair, and across her thighs. Miss White tried to move so that her pussy would touch the Dean’s hand, but the Dean was having none of it; she simply toyed and teased, further increasing the heat in Miss White’s already-inflamed nether regions.
Jodie could sense Miss White’s need, and would have loved nothing more than to drop her head down between her mistress’s legs and go to work. Certainly that was what Miss White would have wanted; but at the moment neither Miss White’s desires or her own were paramount, so she held back.
Dean Wilkins took great delight in watching the giant dildo move in and out of Miss White’s mouth, but also felt a certain sense of yearning. She enjoyed being a woman, and certainly had no desire to be a man; but still she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to feel the warm wetness of a woman’s mouth engulfing her cock, then to fill that mouth with semen. She imagined herself dripping a trail of cum across Miss White’s lips, chin, and chest, then ordering Jodie to lick it off.
At that moment the Dean was surprised by a spontaneous orgasm, triggered partly by the friction of the harness on her clit, but mostly by her fantasy. When she pulled out of Miss White’s mouth she half-expected to leave a drizzle of spunk, but of course there was nothing there.
Once again the Dean stood and had a drink while pondering her next move. As she looked around the room, nothing seemed quite right for what she had in mind. Then it hit her. She sat down her glass and spun on her heel.
“Come with me,” said the Dean to Jodie, who obediently fell in behind her. In one corner of the drawing room was a low table, about six feet long and three feet wide. The Dean took one end and Jodie the other, and they moved it through the door into the living room and sat it down next to the chaise.
Freeing Miss White’s legs, the Dean again lifted her and placed her face-up on the table. Miss White went completely limp, allowing herself to be moved and manipulated. She didn’t resist, nor did she offer any assistance.
The Dean arranged Miss White so that her ass was resting on the edge of the short edge of the table and her knees were straddling opposite corners, splaying her wide open. The Dean used a rope to secure Miss White’s legs to the legs of the table, wrapping it around and around until it was nice and tight. Then she untied Miss White’s hands, lifted them over her head, and retied them to the table legs on the opposite end.
When she was finished she picked up her wine glass and stood back to admire her handiwork. It satisfied her deeply to see the mighty Alexis White so helpless and vulnerable — snugly and elegantly tied, legs spread wide, wet pink slit gleaming in the firelight. The Dean walked to a cabinet against the far wall, opened a drawer, and pulled out a camera — the very camera that Miss White had confiscated from Jodie and then returned.
When the Dean began to snap photos of her bound rival, Miss White spoke up. “That wasn’t part of our deal.”
The Dean shrugged. “These are just for my private collection. Nothing to worry about.”
Miss White frowned but didn’t respond. After a few minutes the Dean put the camera down and turned toward Miss White, cradling her gargantuan artificial phallus in one hand. “So is there anything I can do for you, Alexis?”
Miss White gritted her teeth. Obviously the Dean intended to make her beg. And though this rankled — and the prospect of having that thing inside her was a bit intimidating — what choice did she have? She couldn’t stand to go on like this much longer; her poor, long-neglected pussy was dripping, throbbing, burning, screaming for some attention. So she swallowed her pride and spoke up.
“I want you to fuck me, goddamnit,” she growled. “Fuck me hard.”
The Dean grinned wryly. “What’s the magic word, Alexis?”
Miss White sighed in exasperation. “Fuck me, please.”
“Now was that so hard?”