Chapter 17: Ownership Reasserted
The shock plug’s low buzz was a sinister counter-rhythm to the frantic thud of Brandy’s heart. Cold glass from her own office window pressed against her cheek as Jessie shoved the smooth, vibrating length into her from behind. “This cunt,” Jessie hissed, pumping the toy with a brutal, professional rhythm, “drips for me on company time.” Brandy’s knuckles were white where she braced against the window, her corporate skyline view a dizzying blur of lights. Each thrust slammed the dildo’s flared base against her clit, the dual assault dragging a broken sob from her throat. “See that reflection?” Jessie growled, her free hand fisting in Brandy’s hair to yank her head up. “That’s the ghost of CEO Brandy Thompson watching you get fucked on her own thirty-second floor.” The toy’s vibrations intensified, climbing to a teeth-rattling frequency that blurred the line between pain and impossible pleasure. Jessie’s thumb found the shock plug’s remote in her pocket and pressed a button. A sharp, jolting sting made Brandy’s entire body seize, her cunt clamping down hard on the invading silicone. “Your pussy seizes like a loyal little fist,” Jessie murmured, leaning close, her breath hot on Brandy’s ear. “It knows its owner, even when your arrogant mind wanders back to spreadsheets.” She began fucking her in earnest now, short, punishing strokes that stole the air from Brandy’s lungs. The wet, rhythmic sound of the toy echoed in the sterile, empty office. “You’re gonna come,” Jessie stated, not a permission but a prediction, a harvesting of a crop she’d planted. “And when you do, you’re going to look that ghost in the eye and tell her who you belong to.” Brandy’s climax detonated, a silent, shattering convulsion that ripped through her with the violence of a system crash. She stared, breathless, at the wild-eyed woman reflected in the dark glass, her own mouth open in a soundless scream of surrender.
Xxxxxxxspin
The scream died in Brandy’s throat, smothered by leather as Jessie’s hand pressed her face deeper into the couch. The cold air on her exposed ass was a brief mercy before the first crack of the paddle landed, a bright, shattering pain that made her vision flash white. “Veronica’s empathy is a weakness,” Jessie growled, each word punctuated by another brutal swing. The leather connected again, higher on the thigh, raising an immediate, fiery welt. Brandy’s entire body jerked, the force driving the tail plug brutally deeper, its vibrating base grinding against her swollen clit.
She was so wet it dripped, a steady patter onto the expensive leather below. “You need precision, not pity,” Jessie said, her breathing evening out as she found a rhythm. The strikes fell in a relentless volley, crimson blooms spreading across pale skin, the plug humming with each impact. Veronica watched, her own face wet with silent tears, her hand pressed to her mouth. “Fetch the wheel,” Jessie commanded, not looking at her.
Veronica moved numbly to the black case, her fingers fumbling with the latch. She lifted the heavy, polished wheel, its clattering sound a death knell in the quiet room. Jessie took it, giving it a powerful, decisive spin. The ticking echoed as Brandy trembled, her punished ass on full display. The pointer slowed, clicking past possibilities until it landed with finality.
“Makeover,” Jessie read, her voice cool. “Both.” She looked from Brandy’s broken form to Veronica’s terrified face. “Starting with you.” She pulled a sharp pair of silver shears from the case. Veronica didn’t resist as Jessie gathered a fistful of her auburn hair. The sound of the shears cutting through thick strands was obscenely loud. Chunks fell silently to the floor at Veronica’s feet, her expression crumbling with each snip until her hair was a ragged, boyish crop. “Now you,” Jessie said, turning the shears toward Brandy’s sophisticated bob. The cool metal touched Brandy’s neck. She closed her eyes as her own hair, next time you will lose your hair. I ordered a wig when it arrived you get shaved or lasered
Jessie’s voice cut through the haze of Brandy’s unraveling, sharp as shattered glass. “You don’t have permission,” she snapped. “You hold it.”
Brandy’s body shook, every muscle clenched in a war against the convulsive pleasure threatening to rip her apart. Veronica’s sobs echoed in the vast room, her hands frozen on the slick toy buried inside her best friend.
“Stop,” Jessie commanded.
Veronica jerked her hands away as if burned, scrambling back on her heels. The sudden stillness was a new kind of agony for Brandy. She remained impaled, achingly full, the dual sensation a brutal testament to her submission.
Jessie stood. She retrieved a leather paddle from the black case, its surface worn dark with use. “Veronica failed to provide adequate discipline earlier,” she said, her tone clinical. “That requires correction.”
She shoved Brandy forward, her chest pressing into the cool leather of the couch. Jessie yanked the latex maid skirt down, exposing the reddened skin of Brandy’s ass, still marked from Veronica’s earlier, hesitant strikes. The thick base of the toy protruded obscenely between her cheeks.
“Count,” Jessie ordered, and the paddle came down with a crack that echoed off the bare walls.
“One!” Brandy screamed, the impact a white-hot brand that sent a shockwave through her core, vibrating the toy deep inside her. Her cunt clenched, dripping a fresh trickle of wetness onto the expensive leather.
Crack. “Two!”
Each strike was precise, measured, painting overlapping blossoms of fire across her skin. The pain was a pure, clarifying wire, and with every blow, the toy shifted fractionally, sending jolts of delirious sensation through her overloaded nerves. She was a instrument tuned only to suffering and its shadow, pleasure.
“Now,” Jessie said, pausing, her breath slightly elevated. “For your defiance in allowing an unauthorized orgasm to approach. You will spin the wheel.”
With a final, stinging slap that made Brandy cry out, Jessie pulled her up by the hair. She forced her stumbling towards the black case on the table. The world swam, pain and fullness making her gait unsteady. Jessie placed Brandy’s trembling hand on the cold, polished brass of the wheel.
“Spin it.”zxxxxxxxxxxx
The strange duality of that place was gone. The command was her only star. “It’s asking.”
“Show it,” Jessie said, coming around to watch. Veronica’s tongue resumed its work, tracing the length of the seam where toy and flesh met, lapping at the fluid glistening at its base.
The drag became manageable. She felt something profound shift, a door scraping open. She pulled the left end halfway out, groaning at the sudden, cool emptiness inside her core, then slid it back in as she twisted the center of the blue silicone bar in her right hand. The device seemed to respond to the pressure of her turning palm. She broke rhythm.
make overxxxxxxxxx
Jessie’s hand twisted in Brandy’s hair, yanking her head back from the sofa cushion. “Count them,” she growled, her voice low and ragged. The leather paddle whistled through the air before cracking against Brandy’s exposed ass with a sound like a gunshot. Brandy screamed, the pain a bright, white shock that radiated up her spine. “One!” she gasped, her voice breaking.
Veronica watched, her own hands frozen at her sides, as the paddle rose and fell again. Crack. The impact sent a violent shudder through Brandy’s body, jolting the black tail plug deeper inside her. “Two!” Brandy sobbed, her knuckles white where they gripped the leather. Each strike painted a darker, angrier crimson across her pale skin, a brutal canvas of ownership.
Jessie paused, running her fingers over the heated flesh. “Veronica’s marks were nothing,” she murmured, tracing the older, fading bruises. “Pretty. Superficial. These are mine.” She brought the paddle down again, this time lower, where ass met thigh. Crack. Brandy shrieked, her body arching involuntarily. A fresh trickle of her own slickness dripped from her cunt onto the expensive leather below. “Three!” she wailed.
“The makeover continues,” Jessie hissed, delivering another sharp, targeted blow to the same tender spot. The vibration traveled straight to Brandy’s swollen clit, a perverse counterpoint to the agony. Her hips jerked, a futile search for friction. “Four! God, please…”
“Please what?” Jessie asked, landing a fifth strike, this one broad and heavy, covering both cheeks. The sound was wetter now, flesh on over-sensitized flesh. “Please let you come? You’ll come when I say. Not from this.” She dropped the paddle and pushed two fingers into Brandy’s sopping cunt, curling them upward. “You’ll come from understanding. From being perfectly, brutally remade.” She twisted her fingers, and Brandy’s world dissolved into a haze of pain and want, her scream stifled against the couch.
Jessie’s voice cut through Brandy’s whimpering like a blade. “Enough.” The single word froze Veronica’s hand mid-thrust. Brandy’s body was a bowstring pulled to snapping, vibrating with denied release. Jessie stepped forward, her gaze fixed on the obscene bridge of silicone joining Brandy’s openings. “You’ve made your point, Veronica. You can hate yourself for it later.” She placed a hand on the small of Brandy’s back, feeling the sweat-slicked tremors. “But this isn’t about your guilt. It’s about her discipline. And her discipline failed the moment you walked in that door.” With a sharp, precise motion, Jessie gripped the center of the toy and pulled it free. The sound was wet, brutal, a double release that made Brandy cry out as emptiness flooded her. Jessie dropped the glistening thing onto the carpet with a dull thud. “On your feet. Ass facing me. Now.” Brandy struggled to rise, her legs shaky, her senses swimming. She turned, presenting her reddened, used flesh to the room. Jessie studied her, then shook her head. “Veronica didn’t spank you hard enough.” She walked to the bookshelf, opened a drawer beneath it, and removed a long, rigid paddle of thick, black leather. She tested its weight in her hand. “You came here seeking a frontier, Veronica. Watch the territory you charted.” Jessie shoved Brandy face-first into the couch, yanking aside the rumpled latex skirt to fully expose her marked ass. She raised the paddle. The first crack was a thunderclap in the still room, splitting the air a fraction of a second before the pain exploded across Brandy’s nerves. She screamed into the leather cushion, her fingers clawing at the seams. The impact sent a vicious jolt through her, making the forgotten tail plug vibrate deep inside her clutching cunt. The second strike landed lower, a line of fire that blossomed into a numb, throbbing ache. Her body, already sensitized to a fever pitch, betrayed her utterly; a fresh gush of wetness soaked her inner thighs, dripping onto the Italian leather beneath her. “See?” Jessie growled, not to Brandy, but to Veronica. “Her body knows its purpose. Pain translates. It always translates.” A third crack, then a fourth, fell in a steady, punishing rhythm. Each blow vibrated the plug, each vibration sent another pulse of tortured pleasure straight to her core. She was a conduit, transforming violence into desperate, shameful arousal. Her screams dissolved into ragged sobs. The wheel, forgotten on the table, began to spin.
Brandy hung in a suspended state of anguish and ecstasy, her body a taut wire between two points of invasion. Each sob from Veronica fueled her own degradation. “Harder,” Jessie whispered, her hand now guiding Veronica’s wrist on the center of the shared toy. “Show her what friendship looks like here.”
The dual penetration grew rougher, a brutal piston slamming home. Brandy’s vision sparked white at the edges; the orgasm, denied but demanding, clawed at her insides like a caged animal. With a soundless cry against the leather, she came anyway, her body seizing in violent, helpless spasms around the intrusive silicone.
She could hear the slick, squelching sound of her own betrayal.
Jessie felt the convulsions through the toy and smiled. “Rule Three broken. That’ll cost you.” She pulled Veronica’s hands away and yanked Brandy up by the hair, hauling her off the toy with a wet, sucking pop. Brandy collapsed onto the floor, empty and shuddering. The black wheel, a silent arbiter of fate, sat on the glass table. Jessie spun it without a word.
The black wheel landed on a single, stark icon: a classic barber’s pole.
“Makeover,” Jessie said, the word settling into the room like a sentence. She looked from Brandy’s tear-streaked face to Veronica’s pale one. “You don’t like the edges, Veronica. You want to soften them? To rescue her from the masculine dive she’s embracing?” She crossed to the bookshelf, pulling down a leather case. “Your wish is my command. Tonight, we refine. We emphasize what’s underneath.” She unzipped the case, revealing the glint of polished steel scissors.
makeover scissors xxxxxx
The scream tore from Brandy’s throat, a raw sound of overwhelming sensation. The brutal fullness held her suspended on a razor’s edge, every nerve screaming for a release that was forbidden. Veronica’s sobs punctuated each thrust, her hands slick on the silicone as she violated her friend with a grief-stricken fervor.
Jessie watched, her arms crossed, a curator observing a perfect exhibit. “Stop,” she commanded. Veronica froze, her breath ragged. “She’s about to break the rule.” Jessie knelt, her eyes level with Brandy’s tear-streaked face. “You don’t get to come. Not from this. Not from her.” She placed a hand on the center of the toy, still buried deep, and applied a gentle, tortuous pressure. “This is just proof of concept.”
She stood and walked to the bookshelf, retrieving a sleek black box. From it, she drew a pair of heavy-duty shears, their blades gleaming under the lights. The snick of the safety catch releasing was the loudest sound in the room. She unwrapped them slowly, peeling the plastic coating from the viciously sharp steel. “A makeover,” Jessie said, turning the scissors over in her hands. She looked at Veronica. “Your hair is a lie. That conservative bob is a suit of armor. Time to strip it.” Veronica’s hand flew to her chestnut hair, her eyes wide with terror. “Sit on the floor,” Jessie said, the blades catching the light. “Now.”
Brandy’s body arched, a wire pulled taut, every muscle screaming as the withheld orgasm convulsed through her without release, a brutal seizure of denied pleasure. “Look at that,” Jessie breathed, her voice thick with fascination. “It’s choking her.” She placed a hand on Veronica’s back, stilling her frantic thrusts. “Stop. She’s had enough.”
Veronica collapsed backward, the toy slipping wetly from Brandy’s body with a sick, hollow sound. She stared at her own slick hands, her face a mask of ruin. Brandy sobbed into the leather, her body shuddering with aftershocks.
Jessie ran a hand through Veronica sweat-drenched hair, fisting a handful of the long, dark red strands. “This,” she said, almost to herself. “This is a leash you’re still holding. It’s a connection to the woman who walked in here.” She looked at Veronica, her eyes gleaming. “Fetch the shears from the dressing room. The heavy ones.”
Veronica stumbled up, her movements clumsy, and returned with a pair of sharp, black-handled sewing shears. Jessie took them, the metal clicking open and shut with a final sound. “Hold her head still.”
Brandt, moving like an automaton, cradled Brandy’s forehead, pressing her face into the couch. The first snip was deafening. A thick lock of dark red hair fell onto the leather, then another. Jessie worked methodically, not with rage, but with ruthless efficiency, shearing Veronicay’s hair to a ragged, shocked inch all over her skull. The nape of her neck was exposed, vulnerable. Veronica cried silently, each cut feeling like a suture being removed from an old self. When it was done, Jessie ruffled the short, rough crop. “There,” she murmured. “Now you look like what you are.” What else should your makeover change Veronica?
Veronica’s makeovetxxxxxxxx
Veronica’s breath hitched, a ragged sob caught in her throat. She looked from Jessie’s cold, expectant face to Brandy’s trembling, impaled form. The conflict, the love, the revulsion—it all warred behind her eyes. Then, with a shudder that seemed to start in her soul, her jaw clenched. Her tears didn’t stop, but her hands steadied.
VERONICA OBEYS.
Her fingers tightened on the slick, black silicone bridging Brandy’s body. She pulled the toy back until only the tips remained inside, then drove it forward with a sharp, punishing thrust. Brandy’s scream was muffled by the leather cushion. Veronica did it again, finding a hard, mechanical rhythm, each inward stroke pushing a grunt or a whimper from Brandy’s ravaged throat. Jessie watched, arms crossed, her expression one of clinical approval. “See how she takes it,” Jessie murmured, her voice a rough caress. “That’s your friendship moving inside her. That’s your love fucking her ass.” The vulgarity broke something in Veronica; a new, harder light entered her wet eyes. She leaned her weight into it, fucking Brandy with a brutal efficiency that spoke of surrender—not Brandy’s, but her own. The slapping sound of silicone against skin, wet and obscene, filled the room. Brandy’s body was a taut bowstring, every muscle straining as the dual invasion pushed her toward a shattering peak she was forbidden to reach. “I’m gonna… oh god, I’m gonna…” Brandy choked, her knuckles white on the sofa back. “No, you’re not,” Jessie stated, moving swiftly. She knelt, her hand darting between Brandy’s legs, fingers pressing hard against her clit—not to stimulate, but to stall. The sensation was agony, a cruel barrier erected at the cliff’s edge. Brandy sobbed, her entire body seizing in a violent, arrested convulsion.Veronica makeover continues xxxxxxxx
The brutal, dual-ended toy was extracted with a wet, sucking pop that echoed in the silent room. Brandy collapsed forward onto the couch, her body shuddering with aftershocks, the emptiness inside her somehow more profound than the fullness had been. Veronica stood frozen, the slick silicone toy dangling from her hand like evidence.
Jessie took it from her gently. “Go wash this. Use the sink in the dressing room.”
Veronica moved on unsteady legs, disappearing through the door.
Jessie’s attention returned to Brandy’s prone form. She ran a hand over the reddened skin of her ass, the marks from Veronica’s fingers vivid against the pale flesh. “She was too gentle,” Jessie murmured, almost to herself. Her fingers traced the pucker of Brandy’s asshole, still gaping slightly from the intrusion. “She lacks conviction. But she’s learning.”
She yanked the latex maid skirt down to Brandy’s thighs, fully exposing her. “This needs correction.” She walked to the bookshelf, selecting a heavy leather paddle from a polished wood rack. It was smooth and unadorned, dark with use.
Veronica returned, her face pale, her hands clean. She stopped short at the sight of the paddle.
“Watch,” Jessie commanded, positioning herself beside Brandy. “This is how you leave a proper impression.”
The first crack of leather on flesh was startlingly loud. Brandy screamed into the couch cushion, her body jolting forward. A bright red oval bloomed on her left cheek. The impact sent a shockwave through her, jostling the forgotten tail plug still buried in her cunt. The vibration was a deep, nasty buzz.
Jessie brought the paddle down again on the same spot, overlapping the first. Another scream, this one higher, more broken. A third strike, lower, on the sensitive undercurve. Brandy’s legs kicked, a useless, reflexive scramble. Each blow made the plug hum, sending confused signals of pain and pleasure straight to her core. She was dripping, a slick trail of arousal now soaking into the expensive leather.
“Count,” Jessie ordered, her voice calm.
“F-Four!” Brandy sobbed.
The paddle fell twice more in rapid succession on the right cheek. Crack. Crack.
“Five! Six!”
“See the welt pattern?” Jessie said to Veronica, her tone didactic. “Even. Symmetrical. Aesthetic.” She rested the warm leather against Brandy’s throbbing skin. “The pain is a gift. It’s clarity. It burns everything else away.”
She dropped the paddle and shoved two fingers into Brandy’s sopping cunt, alongside the plug. “And this,” she said, working her fingers in and out, “is the truth it uncovers. Filthy, honest need.” She pulled her fingers out and held them up for Veronica to see, glistening. “Your turn. Use your hand. Make her come. She’s earned it.”
Veronica’s makeover continued as she knelt behind her broken friend, her own desire now a sharp, undeniable blade in her gut. She didn’t hesitate. She pressed her palm hard against Brandy’s swollen, overheated clit.