Disclaimer: All of the characters in this story are my creations. Any similarities to real people are purely coincidental.
Violence/Sex: This is an erotic romance about a woman and her dominatrix. There will be some mild violence and quite a bit of sex. The sex is between two consenting adult women. If you find this offensive, you may want to consider another story.
I would love to know what you think of this story, or any other story I've written. You can email me at email@example.com . You can also find me on Facebook,
Or visit my website: www.metudor.com
©M.E. Tudor 2013
Jean scoured the crowd, looking for a young blonde. She wanted to hurt someone. She wanted them to hurt her. Seeing Ashley had caused such an ache in her heart that she had almost gotten up and walked out of the court room. She tried to prepare herself, tried to tell herself that she wouldn't be affected by Ashley's presence, but she had been so wrong. She hated these feelings. This want and hurt that she still felt from Ashley ending things. And the kiss, damn that woman for kissing her. It was one of the best kisses of her life, which she had always feared. It was why she never allowed Ashley to kiss her. She was aware from the beginning that she could become addicted to those luscious, full lips if she ever tasted them. She needed to quench the want.
Finally, she found what she was searching for. A young blonde, who looked out of place, this was probably her first time at a sex bar. Jean approached the woman. She danced around her staring into her eyes. Moving in and taking the woman in her arms, Jean asked, "You new in town?"
"Yes," the woman said. "I heard this was a very happening place."
"Oh yes," Jean cooed in the woman's ear. "Lots of things happen here."
The woman looked around over Jean's shoulder at the couples touching and kissing as they danced. "I can't believe people are getting in on right here on the dance floor."
"You think that's something," Jean said, taking the woman's hand and practically dragging her toward the back of the bar. "Let me show you what happens in the back."
The woman barely had time to register the women having sex in the corners and on the benches before Jean pressed her against the wall. Jean put her lips next to the woman's ear. "Are you here to have fun or just watch?"
"Have fun," the woman murmured in a husky voice.
Jean immediately opened the woman's pants and slid her hand into the woman's panties. "Oh yes," she hissed. "You are so wet." She took the woman's hand and put it in her own pants. "You've made me wet too. Do you know what to do about it?"
"Yes," the woman said and began stroking Jean with lightning quickness.
Jean matched the woman stroke for stroke until they both came. Jean squeezed the woman's breasts roughly. She wanted to get her alone and really fuck her. "You want to go some place more private?" Jean suggested.
The woman nodded. Jean pulled her toward the front of the bar and out the door. "Are you driving?" she asked when they got outside.
"No, I rode with a friend," the woman said.
"Do you need to let them know you are leaving?"
"I'll text them later," she said.
Jean knew that she was being careless. She didn't usually take women to a hotel until after they'd hooked up at the bar together a couple of times, but she needed to get some of this pent up anger and desire out of her system. Ever since she had seen Ashley in the court room and the touched her body in the bathroom, she felt like she was losing her mind. She picked this woman because she reminded her of Ashley, because this is what she wanted to do to Ashley.
Leading the woman to her car, she spared a glance over her shoulder back at the bar. Maybe she should just fuck her out here in the parking lot, but she turned back to the woman who looked up at her with heated blue eyes, so similar to Ashley's that she lost control of her senses.
She closed the door, ran to the other side of the car, got in, started the car and drove like a mad woman to her favorite hotel. She checked in under the assumed name that she had used before. The clerk knew her. They had a monetary arrangement about the room she used. She took the woman into the elevator and practically ravished her in it. She could barely contain her need to take this woman.
When they got in the room, Jean stripped the woman's clothes off of her. The woman kept trying to kiss her, but Jean would move her face away. Jean pinned the woman on the bed. "I'm going to fuck you so hard," she promised.
"Yes," the woman gasped and opened her legs for Jean.
She was loose and wet. Jean could almost fit her whole fist into the woman's pussy. The woman screamed out when she came and flopped back on the bed. Straddling the woman's face, Jean said, "Your turn to pleasure me."
The woman stared at her. "I ain't eating your pussy."
"Yes, you are," Jean growled and shoved her pussy into the woman's face.
The woman bit down on Jean. Jean howled and jumped off the woman. She slapped the woman across the face. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" She checked to make sure she wasn't bleeding. "You fucking bitch!" Jean went to grab the woman, but she slid out of her grasp.
Running into the bathroom, the woman grabbed her cell phone and made a phone call. Jean could hear her talking to someone. She picked up her clothes and started to get dressed, but suddenly the woman came out of the bathroom. "Don't get dressed," she said. "I'm sorry. I was just flipping out a little." She took Jean's hand and led her to the bed. "Let me try this again." She pushed Jean back on the bed and knelt before her.
Something in Jean's mind was telling her to get her clothes and get the hell out of the room, but when the woman's tongue slid into her pussy, she was lost in her arousal. The whole crazy night and the earlier events of the day had pushed Jean beyond her sense of reasoning.
The woman continued to pleasure Jean, her small tongue lapping at her. Jean raised her legs up onto the bed opening herself up more for the woman. She was in the throes of her orgasm when she thought she heard a knock at the door. The woman was suddenly gone and before Jean could sit up, there was a man in the room.
"Oh fuck," Jean said, jumping to her feet, only to be shoved back onto the bed.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" the man said.
He leaned over Jean and she immediately recognized him. John Garrett. "What… what are you doing here?"
"The question is what are you doing here, Judge Carlisle?" He laughed harshly. "It would seem that I have you at a very serious disadvantage."
Jean tried to cover herself, but he wouldn't let her. "No wonder you always rule in favor of the women, you're a pussy lover." He called over his shoulder to the woman, "Get the handcuffs out of your bag, honey."
Looking from him to the woman, Jean realized that she had been set up. Damn, she knew better than to leave the bar with a strange woman. She was never this careless. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
John grabbed both of her hands and pulled her toward the corner of the bed. She tried to fight him, but he was much stronger than her. He handcuffed her to the frame of the bed next to the headboard, much like she had done to Ashley, with the chain wrapped around the post and both of her wrists in the cuffs.
"Are you going to fuck her," the woman asked. "She needs to get fucked by someone with a dick as big as yours."
"No," John said. "I've got something else I want from her. Don't I, Judge?"
"I'm not changing my ruling," she said stubbornly.
"Well, then," he said, pausing thoughtfully. "Let's see, what can I do to you that would be worse than raping you?" He paced around the room like he was thinking, but Jean knew he had already made up his mind what he was going to do. "I think I'm going to leave you here, handcuffed naked to the bed. Now, you can scream so someone will come and help you, and then, of course, you'll have to explain how you got handcuffed to the bed."
He paced some more. "No, no, that's not going to be good enough. I've got a better idea." He turned to the woman. "Honey, I want you to go over and straddle the judge's chest." The woman did as she was told and he began taking pictures with his phone.
Jean turned her head trying to hide her face, but she could only move so far.
"Yeah, I've got you now," he said and pulled the woman off the bed. "Get dressed." He grabbed Jean's purse and went through it finding the hundred in cash that she usually kept on her. He went through all the pockets of her pants and coat finding what little bit of change she had in them.
"I think I'm going to give you until tomorrow morning to think about changing your ruling or these pictures will be going to the news stations." He led the woman out the door and shut it behind him.
Jean let out a scream in frustration. She was so fucked. She looked over at the phone on the night stand next to her, but who would she call. Her arms were killing her and the blood was pounding in her head. Taking stock of how tight the handcuffs were on her wrists, she realized that she did have maneuvering room in them. She slowly moved herself off the bed, carefully turning her wrists so that she didn't break them. She was on her knees next to the bed now. She looked toward the table and chair next to the window. Her pants had been unceremoniously thrown to the floor when John was looking through them for money. Hopefully, her cell phone was still in the pocket. She stretched her legs toward her pants. She could just barely catch them with one of her toes.
She began to carefully inch the pants closer with her toes until she could grab them with her feet. It seemed to take forever, but she finally got them to her legs. She continued to scoot them closer to her face, stretching and straining her neck, trying to get the pants to her teeth. Her arms and shoulders ached from the awkward position, but she couldn't stop. She had to get the cell phone to her hands.
Finally, she was able to pull the pants with her teeth. She could feel the phone in the back pocket. She got on her knees, being careful not to dump the phone before she got it to her hands. Jean worked the pants to her hands and got the phone out. She cried out with joy, but then realized that she had still had no one to call. Who could she call for help? How could she explain this to anyone?
She started to cry, and then she looked at the keypad on her phone. The number three jumped out at her. Ashley. She started to hit the three to speed dial Ashley's number, but stopped. What if she'd changed her number? What if she didn't answer? Jean chewed her lip. She didn't have a choice. Ashley was the only one who could help her.
This story continues in Chapter Six…
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