“I love it when a plan comes together!”
- from the video log of Mistress Citrine
Mistress Citrine knocked on the door, and Madame Muse opened up. The redhead had done precisely as Citrine had instructed. She had waited in her room and donned an exceedingly lascivious corset in preparation for her time with Velvette. Muse was additionally wearing a shiny latex skirt and some thigh-high latex boots with what appeared to be six-inch heels. The veteran madam was all dolled up and ready to dominate, but so was her visitor…
Citrine smiled. “Well, don’t you look all ready to go.”
“As do you,” Muse responded. She looked around and added, “all by your lonesome.”
“Correct,” Citrine said.
After realizing that that was all Citrine had to say, Madame Muse pressed on. “I thought you said that you’d come around and complete our transaction?”
“Correct,” Citrine repeated.
She smiled as she watched the gears turn inside Muse’s head. It was so copacetic to see the revelation cross Muse’s face as she ascertained Citrine’s plan in real-time. When it had all come to her, Muse just relaxed her shoulders and chuckled. That was as good a reaction as Citrine could hope for. She even detected a modicum of admiration in the old girl’s eyes.
Muse sighed. “But our bargain isn’t complete until I’ve fulfilled my end, is it?”
Citrine cracked an exultant smile. “Correct.”
Until that point, Mistress Citrine had been holding her hands behind her back. Not the greatest pose for an aspiring Alpha Domme, but at least it provided some discretion. Citrine stretched out her arms and revealed to Madame Muse the items she’d been hiding: a black leather collar with faux fur lining and a jingling chain leash, and a leather monoglove armbinder which Citrine had rolled up like a scroll only to unfurl before Muse’s eyes.
Muse chuckled again and shook her head. “Ever the schemer, aren’t you?”
“It wasn’t much of a scheme. All we did was make a deal,” Citrine cooed. She pointed a finger down and spun it in a slow circle, signalling Madame Muse to turn around. “I mean, did you really think I was going to hand over your purchase before you’d paid the fee?”
The approval in Muse’s eyes was unmistakable. She said, “I guess that’s not how auctions work,” and then she turned around and pressed her hands together behind her back.
Citrine beamed as she slid the monoglove up Muse’s arms. She’d been so quick to accede, and that was just how Citrine liked it. There was no resistance as the armbinder was laced up, pressing Muse’s arms together from top to bottom. Citrine ran the straps over Muse’s shoulders, crossed them over her chest, and slid them under her armpits before buckling the armbinder in place. There was no escaping that now, but Citrine still tightened another small strap around Muse’s wrists for good measure.
Next, the blonde queen held up the collar in front of Muse and shot her a promiscuous grin. Seconds later, the collar was strapped around Muse’s neck. Citrine always loved the collar. It had some mysterious way of making a girl look cute, naughty, sexy, and submissive all at once. And when a leash was added, it sent another very clear signal. It told everyone that the one holding the leash was in complete control. Over the course of the day, Mistress Citrine had pulled on more leashes than anyone else had all week! The showrunners could make a montage out of it! She was on fire, and the best was yet to come!
“Now, my lovely guerdon, let me take you to your purchase…” Citrine said.
Citrine led Muse down the hall, towards the playroom. The bound madam wasn’t surprised, of course. Anyone could vaticinate that she’d be taken there, but nothing could have prepared her for the spectacle therein…
Citrine shoved the door open like a boss, towed her prisoner in behind her, and swaggered into a bondage extravaganza.
Everyone was there.
Everyone. All of them bound, ball gagged, and facing each other in a big circle. The slave girls from the auction were every bit as naked as they’d been before, but the others had come dressed to kill. Citrine couldn’t decide which ones she liked better.
Velvette was leaned back against a stretching rack. The torture device looked as though it had come out of the Dark Ages, although it’s mechanisms had been disabled to prevent any real harm from befalling its victim. Still, it did a damn good job of keeping Velvette stretched out across its surface, cuffed hand and foot.
Next to her was Lady Estela, kneeling on a wooden platform with her hands held in the air by some heavy wooden pillories. Another set of pillories built into the platform forced Estela to kneel in place with her legs apart.
Icy Fyre stood naked against a St Andrew’s Cross, all spread out and held in place by tight leather cuffs. She had a much more pugnacious temperament than the others, and needed a larger sized ball gag to help keep the volume down.
The same could be said about Jynx the Mynx, who was brawny enough that Citrine had decided that it was necessary to keep her in steel bondage. It was simple but brilliantly effective. Jynx stood naked on a steel plate with a single adjustable bar rising from its centre. The bar was crowned with a steel phallus that penetrated deep inside Jynx’s womanhood. So deep that Jynx had no room whatsoever to lower herself. She could do nothing but stand tall atop this one-bar-prison, growling into her large ball gag and pulling at the wide steel manacles that held her wrists behind her back.
Scarlett was all scrunched up in a cage. The cage was so small that it may as well be called a kennel, and it offered little comfort for its contents. At least it included pillories for Scarlett’s head and wrists in the front, as well an opening in the rear that nicely exposed her pulchritudinous ass. The cage was even sturdy enough to suspend from the ceiling, dangling her at eye level with everyone else.
She wasn’t the only one suspended though. Queen Vasilka was strung up amongst the others in a set of nylon straps. It was a cheap but sturdy contraption that held Vasilka above the floor with her arms and legs bound (with a little extra help from some zipties). Between the zipties and the rudimentary straps, a monkey could have rigged that up, and it conspicuously angered the resident rope queen to be immobilised by such a layman’s device.
Ms Hawtrey was wearing an antediluvian outfit and bent over a spanking bench. Her arms and legs were strapped down tight against the bench’s sides, bending her over with her ass in there, just waiting to be struck.
Miki was mounted atop a wooden horse. Luckily for her, this horse had a nice padded saddle. She was the only one that Mistress Citrine had used rope on. Of course, it was just a crotchrope. It ran between her legs and up her spine, connecting to her hands that had both been strapped into some inescapable padded mittens.
Madame Muse did a good job concealing her consternation, but Citrine apperceived it nonetheless, just as she had with all the others. After all, who wouldn’t be nonplussed by a scene like this?
Citrine smiled at Muse. “Surprised?”
Muse slowly smiled back. “I see you’ve been hard at work.”
“It’s not work if you’re having fun,” Citrine giggled as she tugged on Muse’s leash. “Now come. There’s one more spot available...”
That spot was right between Velvette and Miki. Citrine did say that she would take Muse to her purchase, after all. She led Madame Muse to her spot, where a steel chain hung quietly from the ceiling. On the floor below it laid a ball gag and a spreader bar, three feet long with a leather cuff at either end.
Citrine turned her final victim to face inside the circle of captives. Muse’s legs were spread apart and cuffed in place. Then, Citrine bent her over and pulled her arms up behind her. Muse’s armbinder was tipped with a steel ring which Citrine padlocked to the hanging chain, locking her prisoner in a strappado.
Citrine squatted down in front of Madame Muse. She picked up the ball gag and displayed it to Muse while grinning from ear to ear. Mistress Citrine always loved ball gags. They were iconic for good reason. No other gag could look so sexy and so degrading at the same time. It was the trademark of a libidinous bitch, and Citrine had one strapped into the mouths of eight dominas! Soon to be nine…
“Open wide,” Citrine cooed.
Madame Muse didn’t need any coaxing or force. She just shot Citrine a playful look and accepted the gag.
“Good girl.” Citrine loved saying that line. She’d whispered it quietly enough that only Muse could hear, just as she had done with everyone else in her new harem.
In the centre of the bound and gagged assembly was a small trolley that carried Mistress Citrine’s tools, including a timer. With Muse now trussed up and ready for action, Citrine strode over to the trolley. A smile filled her face as she picked up an exceptionally long flogger and playfully ran it through her fingers.
“Now that the gang’s all here,” Citrine loudly announced, “I imagine you want to know how I did it?”
The general response was growling and muffled curses. Especially from the auction slaves that had already heard the story. Citrine chuckled and said, “That’s unfortunate,” as she reached over and activated the timer. “Because your time with me starts now. I could spend that time recounting my accomplishment with you all…”
She spun the flogger above her head and cracked it inches from Jynx’s face. “…or I could be brusquer in my treatment of you.”
There was no protest this time. Citrine said, “very well,” and she told them everything. She told them all about her brilliant adhesive invention, of which she had a substantial pride. It had all the tensile strength of an n-Butyl cyanoacrylate, and all the flexibility of a 2-octyl cyanoacrylate. It even had some bacteriostatic properties as well. Had her dissertation examiners been more appreciative of that, she may very well be sporting the title of ‘doctor’ instead of ‘mistress’.
Citrine was well aware of her smug aura, but if there was ever a time that warranted braggadocio, this was it. Besides, scientific discourse was one of the few topics Citrine didn’t need to be so breviloquent about. At any other time, she was forced to withhold her garrulousness and adhere to a more colloquial vocabulary. Nobody likes a sesquipedalian, after all.
Citrine’s little invention relied on the same polymerization process as Dermabond. So, naturally, depolymerization could be achieved with a liberal application of acetone or Vaseline (which was easy enough to find in Dungeon Devine). But by the time the adhesion had been removed, its victims were already in Citrine’s clutches. Sadly, what with her limited supply and certain dommes being more conscientious than others about locking their doors, it was impossible to trap everyone with that same trick. Knowing this, Citrine had been forced to arrange her little auction. Once half of the competition was under her heel, a bit of stipulation was all it took to collar the rest of them.
Muse and Miki were the only ones who actually seemed engaged with Citrine’s speech. Everyone else looked either perplexed or frumious. It didn’t matter. Surely, someone in the audience would appreciate Mistress Citrine’s ingenuity. Everyone else could at least appreciate her domination.
Once she was done with her tale, Citrine spun her flogger around and around, building its momentum. “…and that’s how we all got here!”
She stretched her arm out and spun around in a complete circle. The radius of her reach was just long enough to reach her prisoners, and she carried enough momentum to get in a decent hit on most of them. The cacophony of nine muffled cries further fueled Citrine’s perfervidity, and she cachinnated giddily as she swung another sweeping strike!
CRACK!
“Mmn!” Velvette winced and squirmed on the rack.
CRACK!
“Hrrmph.” Vasilka swayed in the air from the force of the strike.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Citrine practically danced around her circle of torment, her ebullience lending a bounce to her every step as she cracked the whip again and again. It was like a game of
Duck, Duck, Goose, except no one was the goose and Citrine was dishing out much more than just a tap on the head. She never hit so hard as to be pernicious, but that was irrelevant. What mattered was her clear and uncontested dominance.
She had been thrown to the wolves, and emerged as top dog, standing triumphant over her ennead of captives. This could be the zenith of Mistress Citrine’s domination career! Ninety-nine subsequent seasons of Alpha Domme wouldn’t be able to yield results as prodigious as this! Citrine felt like a Brobdingnagian subjugator! A nonpareil conqueror! A motherf**king queen!
She savoured every second of it because she knew that it wouldn’t last. She would have to let Muse go free with Velvette in half an hour, then Vasilka and Icy, then Hawtrey and Scarlett, and finally Miki and Estela. But for now, in this fleeting moment, she was on top of the world. For the next thirty minutes, Mistress Citrine would be the empress of Dungeon Devine!