Charles Richards - A Kingdom Of Love

"All right, get the rest of those clothes off," Myrna commanded harshly through the rising din in Joan's ears from the pounding blood.

"It's too tight…" Joan gasped.

"Shut up, bitch," Myrna snarled. "You can breathe and I want it to leave a scar. Just get your clothes off fast." She strode across the room and took a cluster of leather thongs from the wall.

She's going to whip me, Joan thought and something thrilled her until it showed in her eyes and Myrna saw the glow.

"So you think you'll like it, do you?" Myrna's voice was a rasp. "We'll see. And if you do-I may not use it where you like."

Joan was hypnotized with the whip and slowly her fingers unbuttoned her leather vest.

"Please," she mewed as she felt her pussy throb with desire. She imagined the lash on her bare breasts and her nipples stiffened with blood. Myrna saw her lick her lips and that familiar cheshire expression take its place on Joan's face. It infuriated her and she threw the whip away in disgust.

"You can't turn everything to sex," she shouted and slapped the girl in the face with her hand. The effect was like cold water on Joan. Her mind cleared instantly.

"What does this collar mean then?" she demanded to know as loudly as her voice was able.

Myrna was taken aback. In a sense, slapping Joan refuted everything bestial in Myrna's life and the woman was startled by the unconscious admission. But she recovered quickly.

"I don't want to hear anything but your whimpering," she said in a voice as cold as stainless steel.

"As you wish," Joan assented by lowering her eyes and crawling to Myrna's knee.

"Stupid bitch!" Myrna muttered as she tangled her finger up at the back of Joan's head and forced the girl's face up to behold her rage. What she saw in Joan's face was so compelling, however, that she felt pity take the place of her rage.

That Joan was a pagan slave to bestiality was obvious. She could not help her condition. What her actions had caused was as much Myrna's fault as Joan's since she had known of Joan's nature from Amanda.

Joan placed her face in Myrna's crotch and sniffed like a nuzzling dog.

Then, despite her pity Myrna was quickly aroused.

The beautiful girl was as base as a dog and the comparison fired Myrna's imagination to a raging boil. If her nature took to submission as compulsively as it had to bestiality, Myrna knew she would have a nearly perfect body slave. Did she want the girl like that? The responsibility was great. And she wanted the girl right now and with every breath her loins grew more aware of Joan's hot tongue.

"Take them off me," Myrna commanded as she looked down on the auburn top of Joan's head. The girl's face was pressed into the sweet smelling goat leather of Myrna's crotch; without raising her head to look, her hands fumbled over her head and unbuttoned the buttons above Myrna's leather covered cunt. Her mouth breathed heat into the taut coverings while her tongue wet it to make it soft and hot. But then her fingers were finished, and with a tug at both sides of Myrna's hips her hands rolled the pant tops down.

Myrna was naked beneath her outfit. Joan plunged her nose into the lush forest of hair about Myrna's love lips while her tongue licked through the foliage for the slit. The tip encountered the tiny wings of flesh at the top of Myrna's clit and she twirled her tongue. Myrna moaned and Joan mewed.

"Stand up and take off my top," Myrna commanded and Joan rose.

Her fingers toyed with the buttons down the front of Myrna's leather shirt and the smile on her face was kittenish.

"Why did you want to be whipped when you've told me how you feel about cruelty?" Rather seriously Myrna asked the question even though she was panting for breath.

"I want to be broken," Joan replied simply as her fingers moved lower on Myrna's front.

"I will not whip you," said Myrna with control. "As you wish." Joan then nuzzled between the globes of Myrna's now exposed breasts. Despite the effort she was making at reserve, Myrna gasped as Joan licked her tongue across one plum-colored nipple. Joan's mouth moved to the other nipple and Myrna felt the cold air on her aroused bud.

"Do you know that Andy was licking your pussy when I came up?" Myrna's voice was passion laden, her breath heavy as she questioned Joan.

"Ummmm… so that's why my stomach and thighs were still wet when I woke up." Joan's words mumbled on Myrna's velvet breasts. "What made him stop?"

"Mae finished eating and was prowling nearby. Andy is very protective at times."

"Oh Myrna! Can't we save him somehow?" Joan looked up to the other woman's face with abject eyes while her voice pleaded.

"Quiet," Myrna commanded and pushed on the girl's shoulders so that she was forced to kneel with her nose only inches away from the woman's lush crotch.

Joan grasped Myrna's naked ass with both hands and pressed her face into the heavy growth. She was intoxicated by Myrna's musky scent and a mew of pleasure came from between her lips. Her pink tongue tip followed it and licked up Myrna's labia. The soft lips opened for Joan's tongue to dip into the honey pot and spoon the hot juices of the woman's pussy into her avid mouth.

"Let's move to the couch," Myrna moaned passionately.

"As you wish," Joan's muffled voice replied.

Myrna curled her fingers between the leather backed collar and the girl's neck and led her like a dog to the couch. Joan coughed at the pressure.

"How does it feel, dear?" Myrna asked with hard bitchery in her voice as they reached the couch. Joan did not bother to answer but instead nipped with small bites on Myrna's fleshy ass. The woman yelped and pulled on the collar until Joan choked for air.

"Don't play games, bitch!" Myrna's face was an angry, threatening snarl even though she was full of self-doubt.

When Joan had admitted her willingness to undergo the whipping, it was as if Myrna's last resource had been taken away. She felt as though she was about to fall off a tall building. How long before Joan knew of her failure? But Joan truly deserved to be punished if only Myrna could find the strength in herself. Why was it absent? From a lifetime of empty words such were the thoughts running through Myrna's head when the phone rang.

Joan flashed, "I'll bet it's Amanda," and she looked upwards at Myrna.

She could see the lush swelling gourds of her beautiful plum-tipped breasts looming above the woman's thatchy ebony covered mound.

The bell shrilled once more and Myrna started to answer it, then seized the opportunity of the moment and bent it to her will.

"Answer it," she ordered Joan.

"As you wish."

"And don't be so damned submissive, bitch!" Myrna exploded in utter exasperation. Then she slapped her forehead with disgust. "Stupid," she muttered to herself as Joan went to answer the phone.

"Hello, Amanda." No! thought Myrna, she couldn't have known. What if it was…

"Yes," the girl replied into the mouthpiece, all the while eyeing Myrna levelly. "Yes," she went on.

"Give it to me," Myrna spat out and snatched the phone from Joan's hand. "Hello? Who is this?"

"Your sister, dear." Amanda's melodious voice floated through the receiver and found Myrna's mind in a fog of disbelief. "Myrna, are you there?"

Amanda's voice expressed concern at the growing silence.

"Yes. I'm here," replied Myrna from a void. It was as if she were suddenly alone in the room with her sister's voice coming from a shoe held in playful pretending at her ear.

"Myrna, what's wrong?"

"Oh Amanda! I don't know what to do. This child has cost me my act and yet I can't tame her. I don't know what to do."

"I know about the lions, dear; and I'm grief stricken. But just hold on and I'll be there shortly. Oliver called-" Myrna cut in.

"You're coming here? Oh, thank God! But what should I do with Joan until you get here?"