Mistress Camille: Lesbian Bondage

By Jasinda Geller

"Uh, uh Boxwood. Unclench those cheeks or its going to be worse." Boxwood then heard Jennifer slip off her shoe. Moments later he felt the impact of the heel of her shoe as she spanked him with multiple hits.

"Owwwwww," he cried as the heel connected for what felt like the hundredth time.

Find out what happens next in the full eBook..

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jasinda Geller
• Release date: Dec 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005174248

Jasinda Geller

I am a middle aged woman who loves reading and writing erotica. Erotica just gives me a sense of liberation like nothing else. I hope you enjoy my writing. Do leave reviews after reading my writings. Thank you in advance

Book preview

Mistress Camille: Pure Bondage

By Jasinda Geller

Published by

Euphoria Publications at Smashwords

[e-mail]

Copyright 2021 Euphoria Publications

Distributed by Smashwords

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to any actual person, living or dead, events or locales is entire coincidental

Authors Note:

All characters depicted in this work of fiction are at least 18 years old or above. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Prologue

Was this sub space? He'd heard the term, and now his mind was overloaded with sensations, so maybe this was it. Not just with pain, also longing for his release. He was watching Mistress Camille and his prone body, not from his eyes, but from afar as if he had no control over his movements. He channeled his thoughts to her in hopes that she would receive his mental SOS. She held the key to his release.

Chapter One

They had started talking back in the dawn of the Web, when a bad snapshot in an Instant Message was a big deal. The one photo he had of hers showed her in a charcoal grey wool gabardine suit with black leather boots with pointed toes and 4 inch heels, shot looking up on a vast green expanse of lawn. They had chatted over coffee for hours at Starbucks and one too-elaborate dinner, but nothing more. It was a Thursday night, and he was at home in the Englewood apartment when the bell rang. He was surprised to look out and see her, wearing a long navy blue cashmere coat and pulling a small roller bag.

Hello, wow, Camille, I had no idea, a surprise, come in... He was stupidly fumbling for words.

Mistress Camille, you mean. She was not smiling.

Yes, of course, Mistress Camille, please come in. She had never offered the title before, and he stepped back as she brought her bag into the entrance hall. She slipped off the navy overcoat and he saw she was wearing boots similar to the ones in the picture. He also saw dark stockings with an elegant fitted evening dress with a plunging neckline that glimmered with burgundy beading.

He was trying to think quickly but failing; should he offer a drink or a joke? He felt he was losing the moment. During his moment of hesitation she reached into the side pocket of the bag and took out a riding crop. He knew what it was, in an abstract way, but the words died on his lips.

You make me curious, Boxwood. I was wondering if you have real feelings beyond your theoretical discussions of erotic novels. Let's see what you can feel without a lot of negotiation and role play games. Will you cross the line?

She laid the crop across the floor in front of her and walked back a few steps to sit in the tall leather side chair. Here in his own familiar room his heart was pounding and he had to think back on everything he had read. He was wearing jeans and a shirt, and he carefully removed and folded them and then after a pause the boxers too. She was fully dressed, observing him naked in his room now, still not smiling. He knelt on the oriental rug and slowly bent forward. On hands and knees, he put his mouth to the crop to pick it up. He tasted the braided covering on the hard shaft and lifted his head to look at her.

Her lips moved towards a smile as she studied him and he ached with want as he looked at her long shapely supple legs, her dress, the swell of her breasts, her elegant neck, her heart shaped face, her jade green eyes and her long strawberry blond hair. She crossed her legs and briefly reached inside her beaded dress and under her bra to cup her own breast. He felt his cock hanging below him harden as he tightened his teeth on the crop and slowly crawled to her. As he got to her he lifted his head to offer the crop.

Good start Boxwood. You have been studying.

She reached into the bag beside her and brought out a collar, a well-used dark leather collar several fingers wide, not a toy or a costume item. As she buckled it on him he remembered their chats and thought about the other men and women who had worn it before. The wide stiff band lifted his chin awkwardly as she clipped a chain leash to it. It had the smell of its many prior owners.

She glibly said, Calls for a drink, wouldn't you say?

Mistress Camille went into the kitchen and brought out a chilled bottle of the Beringer Private Reserve Chardonnay they both liked with a corkscrew and one stemmed wine glass. He watched, naked and leashed, as she opened it and poured a full glass for herself.

Oh, would you like some too?

She zipped open her travel bag and pulled out a scratched steel dog bowl and put it on the rug and splashed the wine into it. She them dipped the toe of her boot in the bowl and swished it in the wine. He put the crop at her feet and crawled closer to kiss the wine soaked toe of her boot, then turned to the dish. With the collar he had to bend his arms and lean on them to lower his face into the dish. He lapped chilled wine and felt it dribbling into his chin. He was very hard now with wanting her, and as he drank he realized he had said nothing, just accepted the role she knew he wanted.

Mistress Camille stood up to walk around him and observe him as he knelt with his face in the dish and his ass up. He felt the pointed toe of her boot nudge his legs wider apart, then lightly tap his exposed balls. The crop was in her hand now; he felt the sharp sting of the leather tab on his