Chapter 30: The best domme plans gang aft agley

Janelle's cell phone simultaneously vibrated, glowed green, and began playing a tune with a heavy bass beat. She picked it up off the side table by the big leather couch she and Doug were sprawled upon.

"Yeah?"

"Janelle..." Christine cooed from the other end.

"This is she."

"How's the art progressing?"

"Good!"

Her answers were deliberately monosyllabic, because she didn't want Doug to know who she was talking to.

"Haven't heard from you in a while. Do you want to come over sometime and clue me in on your doings?"

"Sure."

In fact Janelle didn't want, but couldn't very well debate it at that moment.

"How 'bout tomorrow, my place, at about 2.00?"

"Okay."

"Great! See you then!"

Janelle was not working the next afternoon so was free to go, but didn't plan on staying long. Christine was still very much smitten by her, and certain to try and get into her pants. In fact Janelle considered doing a no-show, but the chance to talk art again with an established name like Christine was nevertheless an attraction, provided she could be kept on topic.

Janelle arrived at the appointed time, dressed relatively demurely in jeans and a baggy pink sweatshirt, complemented by "come-fuck-me" Valley-girl white boots.

Christine admitted her to the loft apartment and they sat on a big sofa. Fresh coffee and a few nibbles had been set out on the low table.

Janelle regarded to older white women impassively. Christine had a nonchalant air about her that seemed a tad forced. Almost like she was up to something.

"So... how's things?" Christine wanted to know.

"Oh, so-so. The drawing classes went real good. I learned a lot. And met some interesting people."

"Good, good." Christine responded, without seeming to register Janelle's answer fully. She was strangely distracted.

"How 'bout yourself?" Janelle enquired, sipping at her coffee. "Do you have anything going on at the moment?"

A conspiratorial look flitted briefly across Christine's countenance.

Fuck, she's a bad liar, Janelle observed to herself.

"As a matter of fact, I do have a major work in progress."

Christine paused for dramatic effect.

"I'd very much like you to check it out, and see what you think."

She stood, and beckoned Janelle to follow. They went down the hall. Isn't this the way to the bed-chamber, Janelle thought. Christine's studio is in the other direction!

Christine opened the door at the far end, and ushered Janelle into the master bedroom of the spacious loft apartment.

A slim middle-aged woman was spread-eagled naked on the huge bed, cuffed to each corner by leather straps to her wrists and ankles. Skinny and flat-chested, but with prominent puffy pink nipples, she was also blindfolded, and gagged. She raised her head up off the bed at the sound of their entrance, as if trying to see out from under the blindfold.

Janelle had to take another three steps closer before she could recognize...

... Julie.

Christine's live-in lover. Doug's bitch of an ex-wife.

Christine crossed the room and sat on one side of the bed. She reached out to idly trace her fingertips back and forth among the fine blonde hairs of Julie's pubic mound. Julie visibly flinched at this intimate contact.

"What do you think, Janelle?" Christine asked huskily, "Isn't she an absolute work of art?"

Julie began writhing against her bonds at this statement, making "Mmmmnnnnngggg!" noises into her gag.

Janelle was rooted to the spot. Her jaw had dropped, leaving her mouth hanging open like an idiot, and she felt like a stunned mullet. What the hell was Christine playing at?