Chapter 3

That next morning Jane woke from a fitful sleep. Visions of her naked on all fours in front of all those prominent women permeated her dreams. Kevin had called that he wouldn't be home till late and she wandered around like a zombie all night fixing dinner, leaving his in the oven. When he got home all he wanted to do was eat and go to sleep.

Her pussy juice was literally dripping down her thigh and every nerve in her body screamed for release. Keisha had been right the real torture was not allowing her to cum. She took a cold shower, but even as the chill cooled down her body her fingers crept down to her furry patch to scratch the itch. She tried to think of other things, but her need kept creeping back in her mind.

The next morning, Kevin was ready in a half hour and was surprised to see her up already and fixing breakfast. Over breakfast they found little to talk about, both of them appeared to have other things on their minds. Kevin had his work; she had her need.

"I'll be working late again tonight and probably all week until we complete this project." He bit into the toast.

"How late?" she barely looked him in the eye.

"I don't really know," he put down the paper, "but when this is over maybe we'll have a holiday, get away for a few days."

"You've been putting in so many hours lately," Jane sniffled, "but I guess that's what you have to do." She couldn't tell if Kevin flinched just a bit.

"It could be a few weeks," he reached for her hand. "How are you holding up? You no?"

"Oh, I'm fine," she squeezed back. "I just miss you."

"Well, once this deal is through," he smiled, "we'll do a little something about that too."

Jane's hands shook as she answered the phone.

"Has Dick left yet?"

"Kevin just left for work." Jane's sassed back.

"Good," Frances stretched in her bed, "be over here in five minutes."

"Lookit, Frances," Jane toyed with the jelly, "we can't continue. I have to be strong."

"Oh and Janey," a hint of humor, "don't forget my panties. I think you've had sufficient time to sniff them to your little hearts content."

Jane blushed and hung up the phone. She paced in the kitchen telling herself that she wouldn't go over there. That she wouldn't be treated like that or put up with it anymore, but even as she chastised herself she made her way to the bathroom and dug the panties out of the bottom of the hamper. She told herself they would talk over coffee as she slipped on a summer dress not even bothering with panties or a bra.

Frances was waiting for her at the door.

"Get in here." She yanked on Jane's arm.

"Frances. I don't..." the backhand across her face sent her down like a sack of potatoes. "Who the fuck do you think you are talking to me that way?"

"Frances."

"Strip you little slut." Frances dangled the dog collar in her hand.

"But Frances."

Frances grabbed Jane by the hair pulling hard. "See this," she dangled the collar, "and see this." She thrust her pubes into Jane's face jamming her head into the door. "This means you're my bitch, ' she humped Jane's face, "and being my bitch means that this is your world."

"Why are you doing this?" Jane began crying.

"Because this is what you crave," Frances reached down and grabbed Jane's tuff of crotch hair. "See. You're wet already getting off on my abuse. You can't deny what you are."

Jane was openly crying. "Now go into the bathroom and fix yourself up."

Jane knew she was right, she could feel; her lips swell, feel the secretions once again, and she knew her place. Broken she got up and went to the bathroom.

"And strip before you come out."

Jane rinsed her face and composed herself. The old feeling began welling up inside. She quietly stripped her dress of and went back out to meet her nightmare.

"Crawl over here on all fours," just like her dream. Frances stood her legs apart, an imposing figure from hands and knees. When Jane reached her, Frances grabbed her hair back and locked the collar around her throat, then attached a leash. "Come with me." Frances led her around the house by the leash, adding to her humiliation by pointing out things that were not cleaned properly or out of place. She led her to the couch, shoving her face into the cushion and rubbed her nose in a lightly discolored spot.

"Is that the stain you made on my couch yesterday?" Frances shoved harder. "Well is it? C'mon sniff it and tell me if that is your cunt. Or could it be Ms Stanton's cunt, she was watching you spread your legs like a common whore. Could Ms Stanton have squirted on my couch watching your wanton display?"

Jane felt the bare hand land squarely on her ass, then again, and the fire blazed straight to her pussy.

"Get that tongue out and taste it." Another rain of blows. "Is that your pussy juice or not? Do you even know what your pussy tastes like?" She jammed two fingers up Jane's cunt, pulled them out then jammed them in again. Jane spread her legs wider, just once more but it was not to come, instead Frances yanked on the leash pulling Jane's head up and jammed the two fingers in her mouth. Jane was back in the zone, her butt on fire, her pussy drooling, she would let this woman do anything she wanted with her if she would just allow her to come. She sucked greedily on the fingers, tasting a different tang than the couch. "Well, is it your pussy or not?"

"No mistress," Jane lunged for the fingers, "It's not your slut's juices on the couch." Frances stopped momentarily setback, then chuckled.

"I guess Ms Stanton enjoyed your little show," she hugged Jane to her bosom. "That's my pet," she stroked Jane's hair, "calm yourself down. Now we can begin having a little bit of fun."

The fun began with Jane nursing on Frances' tits. She licked every inch of the mammaries, suckling on the nipples, marveling at the texture and buoyancy of the orbs offered to her. Frances stroked her hair as she ministrated to her task. Both women's breathing was becoming heavier and the room was filled with their combined scents. Jane felt at home within the cleavage, felt her place and her pussy juices maddeningly trickled down her thigh, but every time she tried to snake her hand down Frances would grab her wrist and place it on her boobs. She would squeeze and lick gently, the need in her welling up.

"Please", Jane choked.

"Please what dear?" Frances brushed a strand of hair away.

"Please, mistress," Jane blushed at the sound, undulated at it. "I did what you told me. I haven't come like you said, but now I really have to."

"What are you trying to tell me you little slut. You wish to come before your mistress," Frances grabbed her hair back. "You're going to have to learn that your needs no longer matter."

"I'm sorry," Jane cried. "But if I could just come once. I'll do anything after that, anything."

"That's hardly a bargaining tool," she smirked, "You'll do anything I say now. I was going to give you a sensuous spanking. One that would have turned you inside out, but now," she stood straight up sending Jane reeling, "you've ruined the mood. You stay right there and don't you dare touch that cunt of yours." Frances paced out of the room, returning a moment later with some leather straps. "Sit straight up, slut," she made a loop around one of Jane's breasts, pulling tight and digging the leather into her flesh, then looped the other breast so that Jane's tits stood out prominently from her chest. She then grabbed both of Jane's arms holding them parallel behind her back and proceeded to wrap leather around both arms, jutting Jane's tits out even farther. She then took the loose strand from Jane's arms and pulled tightly catching the leather in her asscleft and circling around across her clit, then tied it off on the thin strand separating her breasts.

Jane felt the leather bite into her clitoris and stretched to create a friction, causing her arms to be pulled back and her breasts to be pulled down. "Don't you dare come!" Frances began lashing Jane's breasts with the remaining strands just hard enough to make stinging sensations all over her tits. "If you come I'm going to take that," she pointed to a broom in the hallway, "and shove it up your ass until it is saturated in your blood." But Jane was too far gone to heed the warning. She began humping the excruciating leather thong like an animal. Frances grew a little alarmed at the action, expecting it to curb her orgasm not bring one on. She hurried to her office and came back with what she needed. She took Jane's nipple and clamped the metal clips to her nipples, bringing a cry from Jane, but not an end to the humping. She must be rubbing her pussy raw, Frances thought.

She began slapping her in the face, but that did not deter Jane. Finally she had to resort to cutting the chord with a pair of scissors. "Noooo," Jane convulsed, so close to the point of no return. A few more slaps on cheeks wet with tears.