[peccavi]

The door swung shut behind me with a bang.  Heads turned at the noise and many of those heads stayed turned when they saw me.  I tossed my head to set my glossy long brown locks shimmering in the light above the door. I shrugged off my long heavy kangaroo fur coat. I struggled slightly with it, just enough to attract some guys’ attention and crooked a finger, beckoning one of them to help me take it off. Of course a few of them came across but then I was used to such attention. I am Melissa Windeyer. Even after all that has happened to me, I still turn heads.
 
I smiled – graciously again – at Arthur Wellesley, “Oh thank you Arthur.  You shouldn’t have...”  He stood behind me and eased my coat off. ”…but thank you for being such a gentleman.” I stumbled in my heels – again, deliberately of course – so my shapely butt and back just momentarily rested against his body. Turning, I kissed his cheek and squeezed his hand. His attention was just what I needed to rebuild my ravaged reputation. Anyway, I so deserved such attention. After all, I am Melissa Windeyer.
 
I stepped back a little so everyone could admire my svelte, curvy figure.  I’d dressed conservatively tonight in a midnight blue jacket with a strip of white lace cut into the sleeves and under that, what the sales clerk at the boutique called a peasant top. Not that I am a peasant of course. It's an off-the-shoulder sleeveless layered top; the top layer white lace which showed just enough of my bust to be revealing without being immodest.  The lower layer was in navel hugging lace which discreetly showed my sexy tummy. The jacket was matched by a midnight blue skirt .I’d chosen gold coloured high heeled sandals, partly to give me that commanding height that so impressed others and partly because the colour matched my necklace.
 
I’d struggled over that chunky gold necklace ever since Ms Justeen had called it ‘a lovely collar’. Some may have thought that was a compliment. They hadn’t heard her whisper, “I own you, girl…lock stock and barrel” and thankfully they hadn’t seen me shiver when she said it. The memory of those words still gave me chills.  There was a world of difference between an idle thought that I might sub to her and her claiming me. But she had, and calling my necklace a collar was just reinforcing her claim.  I stopped myself – what did I mean, ‘claim’? Ms Justeen owned me. I had no illusions in that regard.  I knew where I stood – or rather, with Ms Justeen, where I knelt.
 
Of course, at first I didn’t want everyone else to know that. That night- the night of my fight with Britney Summers – I’d even tried to pretend that nothing important had changed. It had been the next morning when my defences had crumbled.
 
*****
 
I was in bed – Césaire's bed.  He’d told me he’d take me home.  I thought he meant mine, but I didn’t complain when we wound up at his place.  What I did complain about was my aching body – after all, I'd had a hard fight. I’d asked if I could take a shower at his place. He agreed, then – as I had hoped – he joined me in the shower. And that night we'd fulfilled some of my fantasies. It had been so good.
 
In the morning – in his bed – he told me, “Melissa, you can't go home in those torn clothes from last night. I'm going to buy you two new outfits. One to replace the one you wore last night, and a casual set.” They were words that I loved to hear – a guy buying things for me. “Soon..but first, Melissa...” He rolled on top of me, his arms holding him a few inches above me.
 
“Oh yes Césaire,” I breathed, wrapping my arms around his body and pulling him down until his chest was pressing firmly into my breasts, his stomach on mine – and something else too. I was about to wrap my legs round him when his cell phone rang. I pouted when he rolled off me to answer it.
 
I heard the voice on the other end – Justeen's voice. “Hi Césaire. Tell Melissa to meet me at Galeforce at 9.30.”  She hung up.
 
Césaire put down the phone again and kissed me all too briefly.  “Pouting will do you no good, Melissa,” He said, already on his way to the shower with clothes in his hand. “You heard Justeen, and you'd better do as she says.”
 
My plans of a long leisurely Saturday with him were broken.  I found he’d locked the door on the shower, keeping me outside while he showered.  I sighed.  There was nothing else but to do as I was told.
 
True to his word however, Césaire bought me a casual outfit. “We’ll go shopping for the other when we have more time.”  I gave him a kiss, with a little tongue in it, to try to hold him to his promise.
 
He suggested that we walk the short distance from the jeanery to Galeforce. The cold air made my cheeks glow. I was glad to get inside. I was surprised to see Justeen had not yet arrived, and also to see that there were so many people there.  On Saturday mornings, the bar apparently did brisk business as a coffee shop.   Gale – the owner – smiled and told me that I should come more often.
 
Césaire bought coffee and pastries for himself and me but excused himself for a moment, saying he had some business things to do and would be back in about ten minutes. I wasn’t happy to be left alone for him to do boring business on a Saturday! But what could a girl do except wait?
 
Césaire had been gone less than a minute when Jade West sauntered up to the table. Jade was a slim tanned blonde whose silky hair cascaded to her collarbone. That day she was all in black – black calf boots, black stockings that did little to conceal her strong thighs – Jade played basketball – a black skirt and a long sleeved high necked black sweater that clung to her slim torso and well developed arms. I was surprised to see her at Galeforce. She normally went to Chatro. She was a kind of friend of Jenn Peccavi’s – kind of, because Jade was a switch. She subbed to Jenn but lorded it over most everyone else.
 
She dropped her purse on the vacant chair without asking.
 
“Excuse me Jade, but this is my table...I’m here with a friend who’s gone to make a few calls.”
 
“I’ll sit where I want to!” Jade snapped. She was standing while I was sitting, which put me at a disadvantage.  Feet apart, hands on her hips she stared down at me. I tried not to tremble. She was about the same height as I was, but standing over me like that, I had to look up to her.
 
“Don’t give your usual ‘I’m Ms Melissa Windeyer’ line, either.  You’re not fooling me with your act,” Jade sneered.  “I know better.  You – ” she jabbed her finger at me, “ – were about to surrender to Britney Summers last night. Don’t try to deny it! I was there!  I saw…and so did a lot of others.” 
 
I glanced around us.  There were a few coffee drinkers who’d been there the night before. Jade was right.  It was no use denying it or trying to bluster – just like Jade, the onlookers knew better. They knew I had been about to surrender. Jade hooked a finger in my turtle neck and dragged me bodily forward. My stomach thudded into the table so hard that it half winded me.
 
I trembled. I’d seen Jade fight but I was sure that I could take her – on any other day.  Despite her cruel sneer, I was Melissa Windeyer. Not that morning though – not the morning after I’d fought Britney. I was still so sore from all that she’d done to me. Not the morning after I’d had so little sleep. Césaire had been far too attentive and imaginative for me to want to sleep. If I fought now, however, I knew I would pay the price.
 
Jade wouldn’t just beat me.  I knew she would work me over. I’d seen her after fights too, she was never content with just a victory. She always had to slut out her defeated enemy. The thought of me – Melissa Windeyer – being slutted early in the morning at Galeforce, made me shudder.  It didn’t bear thinking about. It would destroy my reputation, just when I was trying to rebuild it.
 
I looked past Jade and saw Ms Justeen and Césaire.  They were just looking on. I gave Ms Justeen a look that pleaded for her to come and help me. I couldn’t beg her out loud, of course – then everyone would know she owned me.
 
Jade went on, reminding me how close I’d come to surrendering, how only Justeen’s intervention had rescued me, what might have – no, would have happened – had she not intervened. I tried to protest that they – Britney and her slut Paulette – had played mind games on me.
 
Jade seemed to accept that, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief.  Then her grip on the neck of my sweater tightened as she pulled me yet closer to her. “You let them play mind games. Just like you let Brooke Harris and Jimmy Berwick play mind games on you. Because,” her voice lowered to a whisper, “deep down, Melissa Windeyer, you’re a subbie slut who wants…needs…to be used.”
 
I whimpered, then blushed as I heard myself.  I hated to admit it but Jade was right. I had let Britney and Paulette play mind games with me.  Ms Justeen had reminded me how I’d let Brooke and Jimmy mess with my mind. I should have learned from that.  I could have resisted Britney and Paulette.  I should have resisted them.  Ms Justeen expected me to…but I hadn’t, not until Ms Justeen had rescued me. The fact that she didn’t have to do anything, that just her presence gave me the backbone I needed, showed me how I’d let those two bitches mess me around.
 
I whimpered again. Jade’s imperious stance, her commanding tone, the way she held me by the throat and her flashing eyes bored into me, all made my stomach churn.  I struggled not to squirm in my seat.  She was making me wet in that same horrid way that Jimmy and Brooke had done.  Jade was right – deep inside me there was indeed an urge, a need, to be used.  She went on in a more normal voice, telling me what I already knew – that today I was no match for her.  I lost the battle not to wriggle in her grasp.  I felt the heat low in my belly.  My panties were wet. Jade – Ms Jade as I silently called her – had unleashed that inner demon, that hateful lust that haunted me.
 
I knew I had no choice. Either I had to kneel to Jade here and now, or I had to beg Ms Justeen.  My eyes fogged with tears, I looked across the room once more.  “Ms Justeen, please come…please,” I implored like the weakest of subbies pleading for her Mistress’s aid.
 
Justeen left Césaire and strode over to us.  “That’s enough, Jade.”  She regarded my persecutor coldly.  “You vulture…you only pick on the weak or the weakened. Melissa would eat you alive normally, so you pick on her when you know she’s in no state to fight like she normally would. You’re a hyena.”
 
Then Justeen looked at me, smiled and continued, “Just like Melissa herself, really. I suppose I can’t blame you for trying to give her some of her own medicine.” She touched Jade’s cheek.  “Remind me to buy you a drink tonight but for now, leave Melissa alone.”
 
As Jade walked away, Justeen turned to me. “Melissa, I want a word with you please.” It was not a request.
 
She sat down across the table from me.  Césaire came to join us. “Where’s your collar, you ungrateful wench?” Justeen demanded. “I rescued you last night, just like I rescued you just then.”
 
My hand went involuntarily to my throat.  “I…I left it at Césaire’s,” I gulped.  I realised I’d just admitted the necklace was a collar – a collar I should wear always, to show I was owned.
 
“You fool!” Justeen’s words, though delivered in a quiet tone, lashed me like a whip.  She continued more calmly, “Jade would never pick on a collared girl. She knows better.”
 
I blushed.  Ms Justeen was right. I’d brought all this on myself by not wearing her collar.
 
“‘I left it at Césaire’s’” Ms Justeen quoted me. “I knew you’d be at his place. Think back, girl.   I told him to take care of you…that meant bedding you. You’re a horny little sexpot…we all know that.  Now finish your coffee and your shopping, and go back to Césaire’s so he can finish what he began last night. But as soon as you walk in his door, put that collar on.”
 
I did, and I hadn’t taken it off since, except to shower. Justeen owned me.
 
*****
 
“Welcome to the tropics, my dear.”  Arthur’s words snapped me back to the present.  He folded my coat over his arm and kissing my mouth.
 
He was right.  I was stuck by the temperature gradient. Outside it was a typical Chicago October evening – bitterly cold. I had needed several layers of clothing. Inside the Crystal Garden, it was sub topical.
 
“Let me put those in the cloak room” Arthur said.
 
“No Arthur, those tasks are for the menials.” Summoning up my courage, I snapped my fingers. “Lisa!”
 
I had no idea what I’d do if she didn’t come to my call – no, sadly I knew that wasn’t quite true.  I feared I’d go to pieces, because I’d know that the cruelly exaggerated gossip about the vile things Jimmy Berwick and his girlfriend Brooke Harris had done to me in the Ronaldo bar, had spread even as far as here.  A number of people, the sly, malicious Silkies – Heidi Foster and her cronies – chief among them, had been spreading such rumors.  I’d just crumple if that happened.  No one would respect me.  They’d mock me, perhaps they’d try to flip me – and they might just succeed. It had happened twice now.  The second time had been worse – unimaginably worse – than the first. I wanted to block that memory from my mind forever.
 
But as they say, if you want to be confident, then appear confident. I knew that no matter what people might say, no matter what people might have done to me – even those awful things that Colleen, Jimmy and Brooke had done – I was still Melissa Windeyer.  I was sexy, sensuous and a goddess who deserved worship. So I made up my mind that at least here - where I hoped the rumours hadn’t spread – I’d be able to hold my head up and hide all those inner demons that tried to pull me down.
 
Lisa  scurried over. “Yes, Ms Melissa?”
 
I gestured to my coat in Arthur’s hands.  “Take that to the cloak room.” I almost sighed with relief as she hastened off to do my bidding. Lisa Holland was a slim blonde, a year or so younger than me.  That night she wore a cream turtleneck skivvy, a tan skirt and tan boots that made her look pretty enough, but certainly not in my class.
 
“It’s good to see she knows her place.” Arthur smiled. “You taught her well. It didn’t take you long either.” He slid his hand around my waist, pulling me a little closer.
 
I held my breath just long enough to make my face redden slightly as though I was blushing. “Why thank you.  A lady never likes to boast... but it’s more than pleasant to be complimented…especially by someone like you, Arthur.” I raised my head slightly. Arthur took my subtle hint and kissed me broadly.
 
“I'm so glad you came this evening. The party wouldn't have been the same without you.” He gathered me in his arms and steered me to a nearby table.
 
I'd never been so conflicted about a party before. The Loft was being renovated, so the owners had arranged a special “gala” evening at the Crystal Gardens, part of the Navy Pier complex. Everyone would be there – and that was my problem. ‘Everyone’ included those who knew about my two recent disasters – the first at Chatro, the second at Ronaldo. I didn't want those horrible stories spread about and growing with every retelling. I couldn't bear being jeered at – me, Melissa Windeyer, held up as a laughing stock, my name bandied about as the latest flipped former Domme. On the other hand, if I didn't go to a 'party of the year' event, everyone would say those rumours were true. In the end, I decided I had to brazen it out. People would not disrespect me to my face, I was certain.  No, people would treat me right. I'd make sure of that.
 
Arthur was certainly treating me the way he should. With his arm around me, his finger gently caressing my flank, smiling at me as he talked to his friends, he showed that one of Chicago's hottest rich young guys was worshipping me, putting me on a pedestal – and so he should.
“Come, Melissa…let me buy you a drink. Your usual…a Kinross Special?”
 
I nodded.  That cocktail, made famous long ago by Noel Coward, was my favourite pre-dinner drink. Arthur passed me a glass.  He grinned.  “I anticipated and got it for you when you came in. I’m glad I guessed right.” I smile back kissed him.  Yes, Arthur was certainly treating me right.
“Lisa was so in your face that day, on the beach,” he continued.
 
I sipped my drink, glad of the moment it allowed me to collect myself. This was not a pleasant topic. “You’re right, she was. The little bitch dug her own grave.” I was pleased Arthur hadn’t seen my first meeting with Lisa Holland that day, at the beachfront boutique.
 
I’d been strolling past the store when a dress caught my eye. It was very striking and even better, was on sale.  I didn’t need it of course, but I saw how flattering it would be on me, and I just had to have it. I turned and walked into the boutique.
 
Imagine my annoyance when, just before I picked the outfit from the rack, Lisa – in a bikini top and cut offs – bumped me. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen Lisa, a skinny blonde about my own height, who loved flaunting her tummy. She almost always wore clothes that left it bare and showed the diamond piercing in her belly button. I’d never understood why the tramp was so proud of her stomach.  It was just flat.  A body builder might be proud of it but no sensuous, feminine woman wants to look like a washboard and no man wants to hold a washboard.
 
Though I’d seen Lisa around the clubs, I’d barely paid any attention to her.  Apart from foolishly flaunting her belly she was a nondescript, insignificant girl – pretty enough in her own way but simply not worthy of my notice.  Until that day, I’d assumed she realised that she just couldn’t compare with me. So I was not just annoyed but surprised too when she bumped me. At first I thought she must have made a mistake – after all, to err is human.
 
I looked at her. “Excuse me…you’re in my way.” I waited for her apology.
 
“Excuse me!” Lisa snapped loudly.  “I was here first!”  I could hardly believe my ears. The brat was actually talking back to me!  That wasn’t all – she had her hand on the dress I wanted.  She seemed to think she was entitled to it. Of course she wasn’t. I was. I’m Melissa Windeyer and she isn’t.  It was her attitude that really angered me though.  She actually thought she was my equal.  She thought she was in the right. I couldn’t allow that, not least because the sales clerk was watching from the other side of the store.  Lisa needed a short, sharp lesson.
 
I glanced down.  She was wearing flip flops. I was wearing sandals. I took a step toward her and stepped – hard – on her toes. She gasped in pain. ”Oh, did I hurt you? I am sorry,” I smiled. I ground my sandal over her toes. She gasped again as I plucked the outfit from the rack in front of her, turned my back and walked over to the fitting room.
 
The dress was just perfect on me. It would have been so wasted on the blonde or indeed on anyone who thought that a bikini top and cut offs were appropriate shopping apparel. By the time I changed back into my sundress and paid for it, Lisa had gone.
 
Yes, I was glad Arthur hadn’t seen that altercation.  It might have given him the idea that Lisa might have had some – though small – justification for her attitude. Of course she was wrong. It was all her fault. If she hadn’t been in my way, if she hadn’t so stupidly wanted the outfit that was just right for me and totally wrong for her, the incident would never have happened.
 
“She was all fired up about something,” Arthur said now.
 
He was right. It had been later that afternoon when I saw Lisa again. The beach had hotted up as it usually did around that time. All the families left, along with most of the ice cream vendors. In their place were a lot twenty- and thirty-somethings. The young wannabes would parade up and down the beach, hoping guys would hit on them. Those of us who had any class didn’t bother. Guys hit on me all the time, I didn’t have to troll for them.  If I saw one that I found attractive, I’d wander by and let the natural order of things do the rest.  They gravitated to me, like planets gravitate around a star.  Most of the time though, I went to the beach with guys like Arthur and other guys didn’t bother me if I was with someone like him.
 
Lisa was flaunting herself with the rest of the wannabes, doing her poor best to attract some guy’s attention. She wasn’t succeeding. I watched her.  Arthur was babbling on about some boring local political issue and the rest of our group were reading or watching the parade too. Lisa saw me and immediately locked eyes with me.
 
She stalked up the beach toward me.  I yawned and turned my head away, making a show of ignoring her. I didn’t need the aggravation of some non-entity trying to argue with me. Of course she wouldn’t stand a chance – I’m Melissa Windeyer – but to put her in her place would be tiresome. I might have had to exert myself and I really wasn’t in the mood.
 
“Why were you staring at me?” Lisa bawled out as soon as she got within a few yards.
 
“I’m not,” Arthur replied.
 
“I don’t mean you.  I mean that bitch next to you!”  She stabbed a finger at me.
 
The insignificant non-entity was insulting me!  Me – Melissa Windeyer.  I had have to deal with her, put her in her place but for that instant I was so shocked that I was speechless and couldn’t think of what to do.
 
“I don’t think Melissa was staring at you either,” replied Arthur.  “She wasn’t even looking in your direction.”  He was so sweet that I thought I should reward him, but I reminded myself that he was with me. That should be reward enough. Few men have that privilege. Even Arthur needed to realise that any more than being in my company was a high privilege indeed.
 
“Oh she was!” argued Lisa.  “She turned away when she saw me notice her stare.”
 
“You think I’d be bothered staring at you?” I sighed, feigning boredom. I knew the deep breath made my bosom swell inside my tight top. I knew too Arthur was looking at me. He’d be less of a man than he was, not to compare my voluptuous curves with the skinny blonde glaring at me.
 
“You did though.  Then you turned away and pretended to be involved with something else. It’s just like you!  You stare down your oh-so-superior nose but when someone confronts you, you avoid the issue.”
 
This bitch was getting too close to the truth for comfort. I fixed my steely grey eyes on her, hoping she’d back down. “Why would I waste my time on you?”
 
“You did though. You haven’t denied it.” Again she was letting dull facts intrude. How typical of a suburban non-entity like her.
 
“You’re full of it.  Go away.” I sighed again languidly.
 
“It’s you who’s full of it…full of arrogance, you stuck-up snob! You still haven’t denied it.”
 
Sometimes the best way of treating an annoying little thing like Lisa is to draw attention to their own shortcomings. “You’re yelling. You’re making a scene.” I waved my hand around. “See?  You’re annoying all these people.”
 
“I’ll go if you apologise.” She was almost backing down. Time to make her realise just how inferior she was.
 
“For what?” I yawned, confident I almost had her where I wanted her – angry, eaten up with envy at me and the knowledge that I’d outsmarted her. Of course that wasn’t hard. I am Melissa Windeyer. And she knew the more she said, the bigger the hole she was digging for herself. It would make her inevitable humiliation all the sweeter.  Yet I knew I couldn’t trust myself not to blush or betray myself in some way if she pressed the point about the store. I had to throw her off balance.
 
I sat straight up, my firm strong thighs on the sand, at right angles to my smooth sensuously curving tummy. I took another deep breath knowing my breasts would jiggle slightly. “For looking at the passing parade of women showing themselves off to all the guys?” I shook my head knowing my hair shimmered in the heat haze. I reminded Arthur and Lisa just how much more gorgeous, how incomparably more sexy I was than her.  “Some of us don’t need to do that.” I underlined my point.
 
“You weren’t looking at any ‘parade!  You were staring at me!” she repeated, almost petulantly. She glared at me. Yes, she was about to go.  She’d mumble under her breath as she left. She was just another failure who didn’t have what it took to cross swords with Melissa Windeyer.
 
“So you keep saying…like a broken record.”  I sighed a third time then leaned back on my elbows, arching my back languorously and giving Arthur a good view of my nearly faultless profile. Again he – and the rest of the group – couldn’t help but compare my curvy body with the skin and bones of the sweating, flustered blonde in front of us. Then, bored with her and her time wasting, I rolled over on my tummy and picked up my book. After all, it didn’t hurt to remind Arthur, and the other guys just how good my firm butt looked.
 
“Why…you…!” Lisa squealed.
 
Arthur snapped my mind back to the present in the Crystal Garden as he said, “She broke all the rules.”  He paused and toasted me with his glass. “She kicked sand on you while you had your back turned.”
 
“Yes she did, and that called for stern retaliation. I couldn’t let her get away with that.”
 
“Indeed you couldn’t…and you didn’t either” Arthur slid his free hand under my jacket and squeezed me gently.
 
No, I remembered, I hadn’t let her get away with her insolence. I had rolled over and sat up quickly. “It’s time you apologised.” I glared at her.
 
“In your dreams, you snobby bitch!”
 
I stood up. “Apologise!” I demanded. “Ouuff!” She had slapped me!  But now of course, she’d put me in the right by hitting me first. When I’d finished dealing with her, everyone would say – correctly – that I’d acted in self defence. Again I’d outsmarted her but then, I’m Melissa Windeyer.
 
I knew it wouldn’t be enough however.  I had to show my superiority as a fighter too.
 
My face stung suddenly.  In the time I’d taken to think the thought, she’d slapped me again, this time on both cheeks, but she only slapped from her shoulders. I was about to show her how it was really done. I swung my body like a discus thrower, from the hips, my right arm outstretched. It struck with a most satisfying resounding thud that sent the little slut reeling.
 
I smiled inwardly thinking that she’d soon know what it meant to cross me. I swung the other way and my left hand struck her right cheek. She blanched. She tried to slap back and her light blow stung me but did no damage. I swung again, and again my right hand thudded home.  The skinny bitch gasped. I continued slapping – left, right, left – disregarding the pathetic slaps that the blonde dished out. It was only after I’d landed a succession of heavy blows that she stopped her feeble attempts to match me and began to parry. As anyone who knows me would expect, I’d made the most of my opportunity to damage the silly slut before she belatedly realised I was pounding her senseless. But what would one expect?
 
Still, when she did realise, she had more success than she deserved with her defence. She managed to block or dodge perhaps half my blows. I lost my rhythm – until then I’d swung in one direction and struck her hard with one hand, then back the other way and hit her just as hard with the other. She’d had nowhere to go as the alternate blows crashed down on her, each reinforcing the other’s effect. Now she squirmed, weaved and parried and I had to aim better and hit harder.
 
Nonetheless, the half of my slaps that got through her defence, hit just as hard as the first ones had.  She wilted.  My slaps hammered her face and upper body.  I mixed them up, confusing her and frustrating her defence.  She couldn’t parry a slap to her face when her hands were down protecting her boobs. Her gasps became groans. I resisted the temptation to gloat – that wouldn’t look good in front of Arthur – but I had the bitch reeling again.  She stumbled back, almost completely unable to counter my rain of blows.  I hammered her boobs, her neck, her face.
 
“Ooommppphhh!!!” Air rushed from my lungs, spit from my mouth. I doubled up as the pain seeped through my skin, past my abs and found its way to my stomach. The little bitch had ducked low and my slap had gone over her head. While I was still stretched out from the failed swing, she’d punched me, twice, in the gut. Clutching my battered stomach and still doubled over. I gasped for air.
 
Again Arthur's voice brought me back to the present.  “I thought you were going to demolish her without breaking a sweat, until she hammered your stomach. When she did that, I knew you were in for a fight.”
 
I spluttered on my drink, “How could you think that? That was such a low blow.”
 
“Really?” Arthur met my gaze. “No lower than what you did, perhaps.”
 
Again I spluttered.  Arthur pulled me closer and kissed me. I felt his hand on the lacy bottom of my peasant top. It felt good but even better, it showed that Arthur wanted me, and I needed a man like him to want me, to worship me as I deserved.  I broke the kiss however.  There was no way Arthur was going to get away with such a disrespectful comment. He’d have to learn some manners before he bedded me. I coughed. “Ahem…Arthur.”
 
“Melissa, you showed you’re made of sterner stuff.  You didn’t let her blow stop you.”
 
That was more like it. I let his tongue slip inside my mouth as he kissed me again.  As his hand slid down to cup and squeeze my butt, I ground slightly against him, just to let him know just how sexy and desirable I am.
 
But in that fight I wasn’t thinking just how sexy I was. No, I needed to regroup, to scurry back out of the blonde’s range. She’d pay for that blow of course, but I needed some time to compose myself. Instead her fist struck under my jaw.  My head snapped up, exposing my body to another battering from her fists. I told myself this couldn’t be happening!  I’m Melissa Windeyer and no skinny little blonde nothing is going to take me out. I tried to defend myself, to protect my body against her cruel onslaught.  I tried to regroup so I could do what I knew everyone wanted me to do – put this pathetic little bitch in her place.
 
She gave me little chance. She hammered me, brushing my defence aside. As fast as I could scurry back, she was faster.  Her fists pounded my stomach, my sides and my head despite all I did to block them. I told myself this could not be happening to me, Melissa Windeyer – but it seemed it was.  After what seemed like an eternity of being pummeled remorselessly, cruelly and without pity by this bitch – though it was probably less than thirty seconds – I felt weak and light headed. Try as I might, I couldn’t escape her.  She pursued me all over the beach, breaking through my defence time after time.
 
I felt my legs tremble. This should not happen! I am Melissa Windeyer. I dodged a punch aimed at my side, but then the bitch slugged my stomach yet again. My legs went weak, then gave out and I sank to my knees. But I’m Melissa Windeyer and I was not defeated.
 
I grabbed at the blonde’s knees, wrapping both my arms around them, and slammed my head forward. My forehead rammed into her stomach. She groaned.  I felt the spit from her mouth hit the top of my head. I jerked my head back, then forward again. Again she groaned. She grabbed my hair, trying to jerk my head back. She succeeded but, mastering the pain, I slammed my head forward a third time. This time I pushed my whole body forward and knocked her to the sand. She landed hard.  I was already on my knees and scrambled up to my feet.  I tried to stomp on her stomach. She rolled away to avoid me but I was quicker than she was and I still stomped on her ribs. I was better than her.  She groaned. She rolled away, got to her feet and stood panting. I could see I’d damaged her badly, but she had hurt me too.
 
I took a few invaluable moments to regroup, to recover from her cruel assaults. I needed to finish her. People were whispering to one another.  No one expected that she’d hurt me this badly, that this blonde nothing would press me so hard.  People expected more from me. They had every right to. I’m Melissa Windeyer.
 
I stepped forward, fists up ready. She closed on me. I stomped on her foot. Hard. She raised it, as if to shake it and while she was off balance on one foot, I body slammed her. My full sensuous curves gave me a weight advantage over the skin-and bone-blonde. She staggered and almost fell. I slugged her stomach hard. I tried to do so again but she evaded me, moving more quickly than I thought she’d be able to – indeed, more quickly than I could. I couldn’t let people see that Lisa had hurt me, that she’d come far too close to beating me. Of course she hadn’t come that close.  I was going to win, but I deserved to win easily. After all, I’m just so much better than people like Lisa. Instead I stood still and called out, “Scared of me, huh?  Running away, huh?”  I took a few seconds respite to compose myself as my words seeped into her small brain.
 
Stung by my words, just like I wanted her to be – Lisa rushed in. I turned side-on and stepped back a pace. Lisa had to swerve to attack me. She lost her momentum and as she turned, I grabbed her blonde hair and pulled it hard. She grabbed my own long silky locks. She yanked on it, jerking my head from side to side. It was painful and a bystander might have thought Lisa was getting the better of me. She certainly made me gasp as she hauled me around, making me stumble, bending me forward. It might have seemed like I couldn’t match her, that my jerks on her hair lacked power, that I wasn’t able to pull her around like she was pulling me.  But I’d outthought her. She was facing me now, with both hands in my hair. Her washboard tummy, already damaged by my punches and head butts, was exposed. I raised my knee and hammered her belly once more – then again. Both times she moaned. I fired a right punch into her navel, grazing my finger on her diamond stud. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she gave out a despairing, wailing “ooh”.  Her hold on my hair weakened. A second punch and she lost her grip completely. One more from my left fist hammered her belly, and a punch from my right fist landed on her chin.  She dropped to the sand.
 
I stomped on her belly, just to reinforce the lesson. 
 
Now in the Crystal Garden, I smiled at Arthur. “Remember how nice i was to her?  I even extended my hand to help her up after I’d…inevitably…beaten her.”
 
In truth, I was only too glad that the fight had ended then. I had wanted to reach out, to make peace with her. I couldn’t let anyone see the pain I was suffering right then.  I couldn’t let anyone know that I had no more fight left in me. I couldn’t let them know that if Lisa had gotten up to continue the fight – and she very well might have – then she probably would have beaten me.
 
“Yes you were very generous,” agreed Arthur.  “You even helped her down to the water to bathe and soothe her hurt.” He winked at me.  For a moment I was unsure what he meant and the knowing smile on his face didn’t make me any more certain.  Still it didn’t matter.  He knew that I’d beaten the blonde.  He’d been there and seen it.  That – and letting everyone there at the Crystal Garden know that I’d beaten the fluff ball –was what mattered.
 
Lisa came back.  “Here’s your cloakroom ticket, Ms Melissa.”
 
“Thank you my sweet,” I rewarded her with a smile.  “You’re a good little girl.” I stepped away from Arthur's embrace for a moment to open my purse and put the ticket in it.
 
Lisa glowed under my praise – as well she might.  “Why thank you Ms Melissa.”
 
“Sweetie, meet my friend Arthur Wellesley.. Arthur this is Lisa Holland.”
 
“Hello Lisa. We did meet but I don't think you'd remember it. We weren't introduced. How are you?” Arthur took her hand and let his own hand linger in hers for just a moment too long. Lisa batted her eyelids. She glanced away and then, as though by accident, brushed his sleeve. The slut was flirting with him, and Arthur had encouraged her. He patted her arm. “You're looking particularly lovely tonight.” It seemed he hadn't learned that Lisa was just a fluff ball – my fluff ball. Apparently I needed to show him – but I had to do it discreetly.
 
I patted Lisa’s face. As she turned to me, I let my hand slip down and cup her chin, making her look at me. She shivered slightly. She looked at the ground. “Sweetie, I'm pleased with you,” I reassured her. My hand caressed her cheek.  She kept her face lowered and I patted her head.
 
She simpered.  ”Thank you Ms Melissa.”
 
Arthur asked her something bland but conversation starting. It seemed he hadn't gotten the message – that compared to me, Lisa was a nothing. It seemed I'd have to show him. I waited a moment, till Arthur asked her some question about hockey.  She answered with something inane.
 
“Lisa is very athletic.”  I broke into the conversation.  “See her abs.” I slipped my arm around her waist, pulled her close and ran my hand over her stomach slowly. “Firm and lean. But I don't think she plays hockey.” My fingers played lightly with her navel. “Do you Lisa?”
 
“No Ms.” She turned back to Arthur and tried to answer him as my fingers caressed her tummy. She gasped, “No Ms!  Not here. Please.”
 
I leaned close and whispered in her ear, just loud enough for Arthur to hear, “Why not, Lisa? You and I know you like this!” I stroked her a little more firmly.
 
Lisa tried to continue her conversation with Arthur but her comments became increasingly ragged, punctuated by gasps as I kept kneading, stroking, caressing her tummy – just like Jimmy Berwick had done to me with such horrid results. I refused to remember that night. I thought of icebergs, cold, white and vast, until I was able to visualise locking away the memories of that awful night in a chest and throwing that chest into the deepest part of Lake Michigan.
 
Lisa was talking normally again and I realised that I’d stopped toying with her. I needed to show her – and Arthur too – who was boss.  I resumed playing with her tummy and soon her voice was breathless and quavering again.  She turned to me fearfully. “Please Ms Melissa…no.  Don't do this…not here, please!”
 
“You can always go Lisa.  You can go and rejoin your friends, any time you want.” I rolled the diamond stud in her navel between my thumb and forefinger.
 
“Ms... please,” she whimpered. She'd given up trying to talk with Arthur, who winked at me.
 
"Of course dear, you're quite right.  Go back to your friends. Arthur and I can amuse ourselves.” Lisa looked at me pleadingly.  She didn't know what she wanted. She couldn’t play mind games with me – but then, few can.  I returned her gaze steadily. “Back to your friends now. Isn't that what you wanted?” I didn’t want her getting any ideas about Arthur. I slapped her butt to hasten her departure.
 
“Are you ok, Melissa?” Arthur slipped his hand around my waist again. “You're a little flushed.  You're almost panting.”
 
I swallowed hard. I'd gotten a little excited, teasing Lisa. I’d hoped it didn't show. It shouldn't.  I had enough self-control not to lose my composure over a nothing like Lisa.  I dug my nails into my hand. “Yes, just a little dry.”
 
“Melissa, what am I thinking? Of course…you need a drink! Another Kinross?”
 
I nodded. Our way to the bar was interrupted by many people who knew Arthur, He introduced me to some of his friends and we chatted – or rather they did. I knew almost nothing of what they were talking about – financial markets, what the Federal Reserve was doing and local business conditions – but I so needed to impress upon these men and women that Melissa Windeyer was one of them and not just some pretty face from the ‘burbs. I’d learnt that the old adage “it is better to stay silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt” was all too true – in both parts. No one was going to think Melissa Windeyer was a fool or just a trophy for some rich guy's mantelpiece, so I'd learned a few conversation openers. I tried a couple. Once, when one of Arthur's friend disagreed with another, I turned to him and said, “But doesn't Tony have a point?” and then repeated one or two phrases Tony had used. Another time I said, “What’s Stirglitz's take on that?” to someone who had mentioned that man – some economist, I think – a little earlier. All it took was some clever listening.
 
After quite a while, Arthur said “I promised Melissa a drink. I'd better keep my promise.” He led me toward the bar but stopped well short of it, next to one of the big palms in the gardens. He turned me to look at him, his hands on my hips. “So…how much do you know about economics?”
 
There was no point in trying to fool him.  I smiled. “Absolutely zip, Arthur.”
 
He threw back his head and laughed. “Of all the effrontery! Melissa, you completely fooled them! But that's what you intended to do. It was like my exam technique at school. “
 
I looked at him inquiringly.
 
“When I studied English Lit…Literature…I used to learn a few quotes from the books we'd read and then drop them into the exam essay so it looked like I knew a whole lot more than I did.  And, Ms Impudence, tonight you did exactly the same thing.”
 
“Ouch!” I jumped.  He'd slapped my butt playfully but hard.
 
“As they used to say in the movies, you are one sassy dame.” He pulled me close and kissed me just as hard as he'd slapped me. I opened my mouth to him – his tongue would have forced its way in anyway. He slipped his right hand between my jacket and my blouse and held me for a moment. His left hand stroked my cheek then slipped down to my neck.  I shivered as he fingered my necklace. Arthur stopped fondling it and stepped back a pace. “Melissa, what’s wrong?” I shook my head. He ran his hand over my necklace again, “I was only playing with it.  You know, its big enough to clip a chain to…” He grinned.  “Now that’s an idea...I’d have you where – ” He seemed to drop his voice for a moment.  Did he really whisper “ – and when – ” ? Surely not.  He continued in a normal voice, ” – I  wanted you.” The thought of a chain to my collar, of me being controlled, of Arthur ‘having me wherever and whenever he wanted’ made my body tremble and my stomach clench.
 
“It's time I bought you that drink,” he said at last.  We continued our journey to the bar.
 
“And now you brazen hussy, you're going to tell me how you tamed Lisa…and tamed her you have. She was eating out of your hand.” Arthur tightened his grip on my waist, pulling me to his side.  Leaning toward me, he whispered in my ear, “And I'm sure that’s not all she's eaten out of.” Before I had a chance to react, he kissed me again and went on in a normal voice, “How did you do it? Surely that one fight wasn't enough? Some people – not me, my dear – ” He broke off to kiss me again.  I didn’t discourage him.  “ – might have thought she gave you a hard time in that fight.  I knew you'd win, that she'd be no match for your stamina and prowess, but it seemed for a while that she made you struggle a little. So how did you tame her?”
 
I smiled.  “A lady never likes to boast.”
 
“Melissa, you impudent baggage, you’re 'a lady' now? I was right…you are one brazen hussy.”
 
I stepped away from him. “That's quite enough Arthur.” I had to tread a very careful line.  I had to intrigue and fascinate him, keep him guessing, but I also couldn’t play too hard to get.  There were plenty of other women he could turn to if I wouldn’t play on his terms.
 
He seized my arm and pulled me back closer to him. “Oh come on, Melissa.  Don't keep me guessing.  I have to know how a goddess like you handles her servants.”
 
“Oh, Arthur…one moment you call me a brazen hussy, the next you try to flatter me.” I wasn't taking his comments, jesting or not. Keeping him guessing was exactly what I wanted to do.
 
"Melissa…both were flattery. The way you made out you knew what Vi, Ivor and the rest were talking about was shameless audacity!” He slapped my butt again then stopped my protest with a kiss.
 
I broke the kiss and slapped his face, hard enough to make him realise he'd overstepped the mark but not hard enough to send him away.
 
“Melissa, don’t be angry with me. I’m impressed.  You hoodwinked all of them...Vi’s an actuary, Ivor’s a banker, Tony’s a buyer for Marshall Fields and the rest of them all know…or think they know…the markets, and you convinced them you do too.” Again he kissed me. “Such beautiful effrontery. Only a goddess…who is also a brazen hussy…” He winked at me again.  “…could carry that off. It needs such chutzpah, such gall, such self-assurance…” He was on such a roll that he made me laugh.  “…to fool people like you did. So if I was flattering you, it was sincere.  Call it worship.” I sniffed, I wasn’t quite convinced that he was genuine. “And flattery, admiration…worship…will get me?”  He paused. “Come on.  A goddess like you deserves worshippers…like Lisa.”
 
While it was good for my talents to be fully recognised, I am Melissa Windeyer and I needed to set an example of modesty. More importantly, I wanted to keep him intrigued and off balance.
 
“Arthur you shouldn't flatter me like that. Really, I'm no goddess" I held my breath until my cheeks reddened so he'd think I blushed, and I squirmed a little against his hand. "You'll make my head swell." Secretly I was planning to make his head – the little head – swell tonight. I'd decide later whether he’d get any relief. Yes I wanted to bed him, but it was far more important for him to want to bed me. It was always good to leave any man wanting more. It made them worship their goddesses. I’m Melissa Windeyer and I’d make sure Arthur would be worshipping at my shrine very soon.
 
“Lisa Holland worships you, and I want to know how it happened.” He turned me around just before we got to the bar. I faced him again, and again he pulled me close, staring into my eyes from inches away. ”Telling the truth isn't boasting, goddess Melissa.” He ordered the drinks without breaking the embrace. “Now you can tell me the truth about Lisa.” I squirmed in his grasp as he gently groped my butt. “She was so feisty that day you so convincingly defeated her…yet now she's worshipping you. What happened? And no, don't try that 'a lady doesn't boast' trick.  It won't wash.”
 
"But ...I can't tell on poor Lisa.  It wouldn't be right."
 
"Right from whose point of view? She’s yours now and it’s only right that you tell me how that came to be. Not here though…not in public. You know you can trust me not to tell anyone.  My word is my bond.” I bit back a giggle.  Sometimes Arthur was so old fashioned. ”Let’s get the drinks and some finger food, then find a quiet table."
 
We stood at the bar waiting for our drinks.  Some silverware clattered. I looked up to see the cause. A plump blonde had pushed a table aside. She marched towards us, her face scowling, her eyes locked on mine. I guessed she’d be a couple of inches taller than me if we were both in bare feet. She wore black patent leather calf boots that clicked on the floor as she strode across the space between us, a white short sleeved blouse and a dark – either black or navy, it was hard to tell in the filtered light in the Crystal Gardens – sleeveless jacket which she wore open. She completed her outfit with a dark pleated skirt which matched her jacket.
 
I shivered involuntarily. I didn’t want any trouble tonight – not after what I’d been through recently.
 
“How dare you treat Lisa like that? It was disgraceful!” The plump blonde almost spat in my face.
 
“What business is it of yours?”
 
“You teased her!”
 
“Yes I did…and Arthur here…” I uncoupled from him.  He still had his arm around my waist but I was facing the blonde now.  “…has been teasing me, calling me 'goddess'. So what?”
 
Arthur chuckled.  “I must register a protest.  That’s not teasing…that's just telling it like it is.  You are a goddess. Err…Lauren, meet Melissa”
 
“Tsk tsk Arthur, not now.” I slapped him playfully.  I was surprised that he knew this girl, but flattered at his devotion and amused at the blonde’s reaction. I turned to face her.  “Hello Lauren.” I eyed her, letting my steely grey eyes flicker up and down her body before locking on her own eyes once more.
 
“That's not what I mean, and you know it!  You were…” The blonde spluttered, lost for words.  That was typical.  She just couldn’t match my mind.
 
“If you have anything to say, say it!” I said gently.  Sometimes the stiletto was much more effective than the bludgeon. The blonde gaped and I went on, “Hun, please.  Like they say in the marriage service, ‘speak now or forever hold your peace.’ Arthur and I were going to have a chat. Truly…and without wishing to be in the least bit rude…we do have much better things to do than to guess the meaning of your inarticulate babbling.”
 
“It was like public foreplay!“ she finally spat out.
 
“Oh really?” I rolled my eyes. “And even if it was, answer my question…what business is it of yours?
 
This plump nothing was boring me and annoying me at the same time.  I stifled a yawn, but not so completely as to make it invisible. I wanted Arthur to see just how effortlessly I was running rings round this woman, who was nowhere near as formidable as I first thought. She was just not in my class.
 
“You humiliated her!”
 
“I didn’t hear Lisa complaining.” I laid out the facts. Sometimes – when they pointed my way – they were useful.
 
“How could she?  You had her so confused, she didn't know which way was up.”
 
“She's blonde.  She's probably always confused. Maybe that's your problem too.” I sneered.  Arthur squeezed my butt.
 
The plump blonde gasped. She reddened.
 
“Come on Arthur, let’s do as you said.  We’ll get our drinks and some finger food, then find that table. We don't have ten minutes for Ms Lauren Interventionist here to marshal her words into a sentence.”
 
Arthur's arm around my waist guided me to a secluded table in an alcove well away from the main bar.  “I don't know that you humiliated Lisa,” he said, setting the drinks down on the table.  He pulled out a chair for me to sit down.  “I think she rather liked it, but you sure humiliated that plump chick with those putdowns! You’re such a goddess.” Suddenly it was “that plump chick” and not “Lauren”. But of course –whether you used her name or just described her she was not in my class.  “Now…how did you subdue Lisa?  I'm sure you had to use more than words, and I’ll bet it was harder to do than dealing with that windbag back there.”
 
“It's nice to be appreciated, and by such a gentleman…but why the extra drink?”
 
“For you,” he replied.  “Two small cocktails are going to take you as long to drink as my big beer.” He sat down next to me. I dismissed the thought that Arthur was trying to get me tipsy as unworthy of him. Anyway, he would know it wouldn't work.  I could hold my liquor. “Now spill the beans.  It was more than a verbal duel, wasn’t it?”
 
He was right of course.  It had been more than a verbal duel, and it was much more pleasurable than the duel we fought on the sand.
 
*****
 
I'd walked into Chatro late one night to the almost fulsome acclaim that always greeted me there – acclaim from the subbies who hung on my every word and from the guys who more than lusted after me. Yes, Arthur's word – worship – was right.  They did worship me. But that was only right.  As he said, I'm a goddess and goddesses deserve to be worshipped. It had been late summer – almost the last time I went to Chatro before that embarrassing incident with Colleen.
 
I’d been surprised to see Lisa there, sitting with Heidi Foster and some other pretty wannabes. I’d been more than surprised to see Lisa scowl at me. I sauntered over, greeting Heidi and the other girls, accepting their gushing, fulsome admiration of my outfit – a strapless, form-fitting top that started just north of my impressive rack and flared out over my well-formed hips, with matching knee length culottes. The outfit was a light grey with an abstract patterned print. To complete my attire, I had gold four inch heeled ankle strapped sandals, a matching handbag and a chunky, rolled gold necklace. It was very flattering and looked much more expensive than it was.
 
I pretended not to notice Lisa until one of the other girls spoke to her. Then I turned to her. “Why hello.  You’ve been very quiet, Lisa.  How are you?”
 
She muttered something sullenly. She was not pleased to see me.
 
“I hope there’s no hard feelings Lisa.  I’d be devastated if you held a grudge against me.” I’d trapped her – if she continued her attitude, her friends would all think she did hold a grudge, and against me whom so many of Heidi’s set worshipped. Many a time I’d sat with them, suggesting cool boutiques with hot bargains, helping them with their boyfriend problems or discussing the latest bands and night spots. All those topics were beneath me but I condescended to them, knowing that the admiration and respect the conversation earned me would serve me in good stead. Now it was paying dividends.
 
“No, not at all, Melissa. I’m just....” Her voice trailed off.
 
“Sweetie, is there something wrong?” I sat down and stretched my arm across her shoulders, ignoring the slight shudder – of fear, resentment or perhaps both – that she gave. I praised her outfit, every part of her attire.  I wasn’t that special but I knew that the Silkies would follow my lead and praise it too.  Lisa would be like any little fool – her head would swell and she’d be thankful to me for the chorus of flattery. The tension in her shoulders subsided, though she squirmed when I lowered my arm to hold her waist.  ”Melissa…please…” she said softly.
 
I kept my hand firmly in place.  She would have had to stand up to get away and I didn’t think she'd do that.  She’d have been humiliated when all the Silkies guessed what was happening. I kept talking quietly, gently letting the conversation flow, making sure that Lisa joined in. Her squirming soon settled down.
 
Of course I wasn’t going to tell Arthur all that.  “Well, yes.  You’re right, Arthur.  I saw Lisa in a bar.  She was with some mutual friends. She seemed unhappy so I sat with her, gave her a hug and cheered her up.”
 
“So you wouldn’t mind if I gave you a hug, Melissa? Not that you need cheering up.”
 
“Certainly not,” I smiled, neglecting to remind him that he’d been holding and fondling me quite a lot already tonight.  “I was expecting you to! I’m disappointed it’s taken you so long.”
 
He moved his chair closer and slipped his arm around me once more.  “So…that's not all there was between you and Lisa…just a friendly cuddle?”
 
I reached over and slapped his chest lightly.  His hand had dived under my jacket again.  “That cuddle is more than friendly, Arthur!”  The slap wasn’t hard enough to make him stop altogether.
 
He pouted. “Melissa!  I was only trying.”
 
“You were only trying it on.” I was on a knife edge. I couldn’t seem ‘easy’ nor ‘hard to get’ either. Lesser women would have fallen off that edge, but not Melissa Windeyer.
 
“Melissa, you're holding out on me. A friendly cuddle from a goddess like you would cheer anyone up but a friendly cuddle isn't going to make Lisa come to your beck and call…and it's certainly not going to make her like putty in your hands. So what else was there?”
 
Again I thought back, smiling inwardly at my skill. “What a lovely piercing,” I’d said.  “May I touch it?” Without waiting for an answer and still gripping tightly with my right arm, I let my fingers slip under it and lift it so the Silkies could see.  “Look girls, at Lisa’s navel stud.  Is it a diamond?” 
 
Lisa tensed again.  She wriggled back in her seat.  I beamed as the Silkies twittered about it.   Lisa’s mouth opened but I spoke first.  “It’s not just a lovely piercing though…it sets off your tummy so well.” I swirled my finger around the piercing, gently stroking Lisa’s stomach as I did so.
 
Lisa sucked in her breath sharply and squirmed in my grasp. She tried to push my hand away but I discretely – so the Silkies couldn’t see – stabbed the fingers of my other hand into her side.  She stiffened and froze.  I bent forward and whispered, ”Not a word, Lisa. You know what happened when we fought last time. ” She paled.
 
I stroked her tummy gently, rubbing my thumb around her piercing as my fingers ran softly over her flesh. She sucked her tummy in, trying to hold her breath, trying not to whimper out loud.  I tugged at her piercing.  She gasped. I pinched the skin around it, worming my fingers into her belly button. She shivered and couldn’t hold the whimper in. I leaned forward and whispered again, “You want this Lisa…admit it.”
 
Lisa shook her head vehemently. “Not here, Melissa.” She replied.  Her voice was unsteady. I kept stroking, rubbing my fingers around her bare belly.  I kneaded her flesh gently but firmly. She shuddered and again she sucked in her tummy. I gripped the piercing and pulled hard. She squealed. Then, as I twisted it, she whimpered again.
 
“You have such a lovely tummy, Lisa.” She shook in my hand. Again I ground my fingers into her side. She moaned softly.  “Girls, look at it…isn’t it adorable?” I stroked Lisa’s firm abs.  “And the piercing is too.” The Silkies giggled. “Girls, why laugh?  Lisa’s lovely flat tummy is adorable!” I kneaded Lisa’s belly firmly with thumb and forefinger as the Silkies twittered some more. ”Such a firm, strong tummy.” I squeezed it gently with my fingers. “What a lovely tan you have too.”
 
*****
 
Arthur tightened his hand around my waist, “Goddess Melissa, are you ok?  You've been staring silently into space for a few minutes now, and you're flushed.”
 
“Arthur. I'm a bit hot. This tropical temperature in here is…well…tropical.” I peeled off my jacket.  Arthur helped me, though I didn’t need the help, and I copped a discrete feel as he did.  Not that I minded.  There was no one near.  He'd chosen a good table – behind this bank of shrubbery – for making out.
 
“Come on,” he urged again.  “Tell me how you made Lisa so obedient.”
 
“Arthur…it wouldn’t be right.  I shouldn't tell on Lisa.” Of course I was going to, and I hoped Arthur would gossip about it and spread the story.  It was just the kind of thing that would cement my reputation after the battering it had received from Colleen, and even more from Jimmy and Brooke. People were still whispering about those nights, whispering that I'd lost my touch, that I was brittle, I'd even heard a rumour that Erika Meani said I was like a box of candy – prettily wrapped, firm enough on the outside, but so soft centered that I melted when things heated up.  Yummy to eat and made to be shared around, Meani had said.  She was going to regret that slur next time our paths crossed. That was not the reputation I deserved.
 
“Not right?  From whose point of view?”
 
“Lisa's. I should be loyal to her." I sipped my drink and smiled.
 
“Wouldn't she want everyone to know why she was wrong to challenge your authority in the first place? I mean, after all, she must want you to receive the recognition you deserve for dominating her. Every sub wants her mistress to be exalted.” He put his drink down and let his free hand slide up and down along my sensuous flank.  Even through the peasant top, his hand felt so good against my side.
 
“How true that is, Arthur.” I smiled again, conceding his point. “Lisa has a tummy fetish.”
 
“She's not the only one, is she?” Arthur said.  He 'walked' his hand around to my stomach, kneading and patting me there.
 
“Arthur, please,” I gulped.  “Do you want to hear what I did?”
 
“Yes,” he replied, easing his fingers under my blouse and again my bare skin. “You know I do.”
 
“So…I kept playing with Lisa's tummy. She was gasping, panting, her breasts were heaving. She squeezed her thighs tight together.  I stroked her stomach, I played with her piercing, patted and prodded, playfully slapped, stroked and caressed her tummy.  She was whimpering, gasping and twisting her body.  She was in quite a state.”

[peccavi]

Was she ever.  She'd given up trying to stop me.  She couldn't pretend anymore. As I twisted her piercing and stroked her belly button, she relaxed with a long sigh and didn't even protest when my hand slid down to her waistband and eased ease her skirt down slightly. All this was happening in front of the twittering, giggling, staring Silkies. From some of the glances I got, it was clear they knew I was displaying just how easily I could take a girl just like them.  They knew it could have been any one of them in Lisa’s place.  That would make them show proper respect to me.
 
Here in the Crystal Garden, those memories were making me rather excited – but it wasn't just the memories.  Arthur’s hand, stroking and playing with my own tummy, was exciting me too – but I'd never just take it like Lisa did. But then of course, I am Melissa Windeyer.
 
“I'm not surprised.” Arthur chuckled as he played with my stomach.
 
“What?” I'd lost my train of thought. Between the memory of teaching Lisa respect and obedience and what Arthur's fingers were doing now, my stomach was more than fluttering.  I was panting and my breasts were jiggling a little. Arthur pressed his thigh against mine, uncurled his other hand from around my waist and ran it up and down the inside of my thigh. “Arthur…please,” I gasped.
 
“I'm not surprised you had Lisa coming and going.  You worked her up wonderfully.” He kissed me. “By that time she'd hardly know her own name.” His hand brushed up my thigh rucking my skirt up while the fingers of his other hand kneaded my tummy – almost as I'd done to Lisa.
 
“Arthur please,” I repeated.  I could hear the unsteadiness in my own voice.
 
“You played her so well.  I almost see now, how you got her eating out of your hand. You used her weakness…her tummy fetish…to lure her, used your strength to catch her, but I still want to know how you reeled her in. Tell me, goddess Melissa.  Please, don’t keep me in suspense.”
 
I pushed his roaming hand down a little – it was getting too close to my panties for comfort.  “By this time, she knew what I was going to do. She hadn’t just stopped struggling against me…she was actually arching her back to push her tummy forward.  She wanted it.”
 
“She was offering herself to you…an offering to her goddess.” Again Arthur's hand slipped higher under my skirt.
 
The memory of Lisa's surrender filled my mind. Just like Jimmy would so treacherously do to me months later, I’d ground my knuckles into Lisa's belly, hurting her. Her mouth opened.  She croaked something inarticulately then shuddered slightly. I knew what it was – a mini orgasm.  Her face reddened and, ashamed at how her body had betrayed her, she muttered, 'No...no”.
 
“Lisa?  Are you ok?” I asked mockingly as I returned to teasing her more gently.
 
“Ms...Ms Melissa…” she whispered. I kept stroking, kneading, teasing her tummy, then suddenly I thrust my thumb into her navel, hard and deep.  Again she shuddered and gasped. “No Ms!  No, please…don't humiliate me here.” She whispered, “In the bathroom…please.”
 
I stopped, pulling my hand back. Lisa looked at me, then around the corner of the bar.  Her eyes were pleading.
 
“That’s exactly what she was doing…offering herself...and I accepted the offering, Arthur. She surrendered herself totally. Oh stop it now.” I slapped at his roaming hand which had reached my panties.  “I took her in the bathrooms. I had to give the poor thing some privacy.”
 
Arthur smiled.  “Privacy…that's why I brought you here. No one’s watching, no one’s paying any attention.”
 
It was true.  All those near us – and none were very near – were engrossed in their own conversations. No one noticed what Arthur was doing underneath the table cloth. If they didn’t see his hands, they paid no notice. Once again, the memories of what I had done to Lisa and what Arthur was doing to me there and then, were combining in a most delicious way.
 
“Let me worship you too, goddess Melissa.” Arthur's hand wormed its way up to the top of my panties, hooking them down. I giggled, half rose in my seat, leaned forward and kissed him as he slid the panties down a little. What could go wrong?
 
For the last time that night, I remembered my episode with Lisa. She had whimpered again, thrusting her belly forward, offering it to me – the final, abject surrender. She was shaking, tossing her head, her mouth hung open.  As I stroked her, she suddenly tensed.  Her head lolled back, she trembled violently and moaned a long sighing “oooh”. I took my hand from around her waist and whispered, “I'll meet you in the bathroom.  Excuse yourself and go there now. I'll be there in a minute.”
 
I was true to my word and a minute late I was pushing her back against the door of a stall, her panties down while I finger fucked her, bringing her to orgasm repeatedly until, sated and exhausted, she slumped to her knees. She licked my fingers clean.
 
Just as I'd pleasured Lisa then, so Arthur was pleasuring me now – but he was doing it privately and I was enjoying his attentions willingly, as his equal, not submitting to his dominance like Lisa had done to mine. I made up my mind that, since as there was no one paying attention, I’d let him make me cum and then I'd crawl under the table and suck him off.
 
Then someone did notice, and not just anyone.  It was the plump blonde, Lauren.
 
“Arthur, I’m surprised at you!” she scolded.  “Seriously!  Doing a slut like her – here!”
 
I reddened, horrified at her intrusion. In my confusion, I knocked a glass over. “Get lost,” I snapped.  “We don’t want you here.”
 
“If you don’t want an audience, then you shouldn’t be so loud,” she retorted.  “I'd never have noticed if you weren’t such a noisy fuck.”
 
I blushed deeper. I was exuberant, even boisterous, during sex – but so were many people. Why was this little fluff ball picking on me?  “How dare you say that to me!  I'm Melissa Windeyer!  Who do you think you are, you… insect?"
 
"Someone who doesn't give a damn who you are!” she shot back, standing there glaring at me.  “Except that you’re a cheap slut who takes it under the table!" I suppose a nobody like her had to take every opportunity to score points off someone like me. She wouldn’t get many chances.
 
“You worm!  How dare you!!!" My skirt slipped back down my thighs as I stood up hurriedly to confront this plump blonde girl who stood with her hands on her hips, staring so brazenly at me.
 
"Glad to see your panties back up!" Lauren’s voice carried.  People were noticing now.  ”I guess they’re around your ankles more than your waist!”  She smirked at a growing number of onlookers. “Look!  She’s a mess…skirt askew, blouse half open, untucked. You can see the slut’s been taking it…and it’s not the first time, is it?”
 
I couldn't believe the gall of this woman. She was insulting me – me, Melissa! Insolent, fat non-entity – how dare she!  Yes, I'd gotten far too hot and bothered, carried away even, but that was Arthur's fault. And yes – I looked – my blouse was half open.  Arthur must have unbuttoned it at some point.  It was untucked too – he’d been satisfying my tummy fetish. But what business was that of hers?  I smoothed my clothes as best I could.
 
“No Lauren, I’m sure it’s not the first time.” It was one of the guys who I’d impressed earlier, talking about economics.  “She looks…well used.”
 
The worm stood there, gloating.  She even giggled. “Don’t be cruel.  Melissa…that’s her name, right? – is just very experienced.” She could see just how flustered – yes Melissa Windeyer was flustered – her words had made me, and she was loving every instant of it.
 
No one did that to me!  This bitch was going to pay for her insults. I reached forward and swinging from my hips, launched my left hand at her, swinging a slap aimed at her face.  "How dare you, you chubby little insect!"
 
Her eyes opened wide in shock as my palm smacked into her cheek, leaving a red weal. I almost laughed.  She hadn’t expected me to hit her. I swung the other way.  My right would hit her left cheek and she’d be staggering.
 
"Agghh!!!  Chubby?” She gagged on the word. “You’re gonna pay for that you bar skank!" She’d recovered her breath – her bellow was loud enough for the whole of the Crystal Garden to hear – and now she sprang forward, grabbing my long glossy hair in both fists.
 
Again I was amazed at this worm’s effrontery – she had actually dared to attack me!  But I had more than that to worry about.  Her hands were buried in my hair. I teetered on my heels and had to take a pace back. I slapped at her, but I lacked the force that comes from swinging from the body and my hand seemed to bounce off the blonde’s head which was probably full of rubber rather than brains anyway. She kept pushing at me and all her weight made her hard to stop. She forced me to step back again.  I took a third step back to give myself a little room to maneuver.  I tried to punch with my other hand but her tight grip on my hair locked us close together and I couldn't launch a full, heavy blow.
 
I knew I had to check to check her rush.  Bent over by her grip on my hair, I fired a punch at her rounded belly. She let out a muffled groan. I sent another fist into her gut and again she groaned, louder this time. Still holding my hair tightly, she twisted sideways as though to present a smaller target and protect that soft stomach of hers. I tried to land a hook shot in the same space. She hunkered down lower than me and her left hand yanked on my hair just as her right shoulder cannoned into my left boob.
 
Again I staggered in my heels and only just kept my balance by grabbing hold of her top. She twisted more, using her weight, driving her shoulder deeper into my body. My legs buckled and then as I wavered, desperately trying to keep my balance, she jerked back, yanking hard on my hair, almost pulling me off my feet.  My heels were the only part of me on the floor – it was as though she was slinging me.
 
One more jerk from her and I landed hard on the floor.  Yes, she’d gotten me – Melissa Windeyer – on my back in less than thirty seconds. This couldn't happen!  People were watching.  I had to end this nightmare. The only saving grace was she lost her grip on my hair. Avoiding her attempt to grab it again, I rolled away and got up as quickly as I could.
 
The plump insect – she almost looked like some sort of beetle, all fat body and limbs – lunged after me, hissing like a broken kettle. "Where the fuck are you going, whore?"
 
I was still scrambling to my feet when I saw the beetle lunge, almost diving at me, her head down and her arms out to grab me, aiming to drive her shoulder into my boobs and send me sprawling again. She realised she had to have a quick victory or I'd recover from her initial surprise attack and destroy her – as I was going to do, of course.
 
I didn't waste my breath trash talking to her.  Instead, I turned sideways as she charged and swung another punch into that soft plump stomach. She faltered, clutching her midriff and rearing up, as she realised that instead of knocking me down, I’d almost knocked the wind out of her. She stumbled back. The shocked expression on her white face told me that she already knew I was a fighter, that she was outclassed.
 
I attacked.  I wanted to finish her quickly. She’d shown me – if I hadn’t known already – that fighting in heels was dangerous.  I was too unstable, but I didn’t have time to unstrap my sandals.  If I put her down quickly, it wouldn’t matter but if I couldn’t do that, then I needed to damage her, to drive her back so I had time to get my shoes off.
 
I fired a hard left-right combination at her stomach. She blocked the left and turned so my right hit her ribs, hard enough to make her squeal but not hard enough to drive her back. Instead she punched back, aiming at my own belly.  I deflected that blow by swinging my arm up but her other fist hit my cheek. I gasped, feeling it start to swell immediately.
 
Slugging at her midriff and boobs with my right, I simultaneously defended with my left. She did likewise, but aimed higher at my face and upper body. We both parried or blocked most of each other’s blows. She used her longer reach to keep me at bay as much as she could but often I darted under her fists and fired a punch at her body. From her gasps and groans, the blows that got through seemed to hurt her but not enough to end the fight or even to drive her back for long enough to let me break off the fight and get my shoes off. She hit me too – I just couldn’t move fast enough in those damned shoes – and she hit hard.  She was heavy and her slugging punches hurt.  I was going to have a lot of bruises the next day.
 
We circled for perhaps half a minute, each firing solid shots, neither getting much of an advantage, but she began to wheeze and gasp more often as my blows hit home. Her blows too were hard – my body was aching – but I could master the pain as I had before.
 
“Oooffff!!!” I gagged, coughing and spluttering. The insect had changed her tactics and driven her fist deep into my sensuous, curving stomach. I teetered for a second before regaining my stance and stepping back a couple of paces.
.
“Hard pounding this, gentlemen.” Arthur said from the sidelines. “Let’s see who will pound the longest.”
 
I blanched.  Didn’t Arthur know I’d win? I looked with new eyes at my foe. She was big and certainly plump but she looked strong too – perhaps ‘hefty’ was the word to describe her. I’d played volleyball against girls with that build, and they had surprising stamina. My normal advantage over a bigger woman – speed and agility – wasn’t going to help me in those heels.
 
Yet I'd served the bitch a bigger helping of what she’d served up to me.  Now it was time to put her in her place before she took the chance to wear me down. She'd see what it was like when a redneck like her – as her coarse speech showed her to be – dared to cross Melissa Windeyer. I moved forward confidently, firing another – this time light – slap at her. I didn’t so much want to damage her as I wanted her to back off so I had time to kick my shoes off.  Then I’d really go to town on her. Even encumbered by my heels, I had her on the run. I almost licked my lips at the thought of what I’d do to her soon.
 
She took the slap on her face, standing fast, then tried to kick at my stomach, swinging her knee up at my stomach. It might have worked had I been committed to a hard slap but as it was, it only showed I’d been right –she didn’t have the brains to beat me. But then few people were clever enough to outwit Melissa Windeyer.  I’d already wrested back the advantage and now I pivoted –even in my heels, I was at least as agile as she was – and her knee just grazed my side. It hardly hurt but I hadn’t made her back off as I’d hoped.
 
I tried again, this time with a left hand punch at her head and a right at her belly.  The blonde parried my right fist and she bobbed down, trying to fire a punch at me.  My left fist struck her cheek and snapped her head back.  She stumbled and her punch went wild. She groaned but her facial expression was more anger than pain.
 
Again I attacked.  I had to weaken her or at least make her retreat a distance.  I needed the time to get my shoes off. I fired a left-right combo at her midsection.  She parried the left but the right sank in deep. She gagged, spluttered and swayed a little.  I thought she'd double up and I stepped in to send another punch into her belly, to make sure she would.
 
Her hand snaked out, seizing a fistful of my hair. She tugged hard, unbalancing me just enough for my fist to nearly miss.  It struck her side but did little damage. Again she jerked my hair, pulling and pushing me around. I tried to punch her again but she yanked me back and forth, using all those excess pounds to all but fling me off my feet. I scrabbled on the floor for traction. I just managed to keep on my feet and slap at her face.  I missed, hitting the side of her head and the impact probably hurt me more than it hurt her.
 
She slapped back.  I parried it and grabbed her hair too, as much for stability as to punish her. This was better.  Now I was able to slap and punch at her.  Yes, she could too but I'd take my chances and stay in close where her reach wasn't an advantage. We traded blows, parrying some, dodging others but – as Arthur had said – 'hard pounding' each other.
 
“Lauren, you should have let the slut go when you grabbed her hair!” called Tony sneeringly.  “She’d have cannoned into some tables and you’d have had her then.”
 
“Nah, we’d have all had her!” some idiot chortled.
 
Was Tony right? Could she have tossed me? My stomach twisted in a sudden knot as my all-too-vivid imagination took hold. She was bigger, probably stronger – her blows, I'm sure, hit harder than mine, and I was light. Yes, I could see her all but hoisting me off my feet, as I'd scrabbled on the floor for traction a minute ago.  I could almost hear my shriek of terror as she hurled me backwards, knowing I'd – again – picked the wrong enemy and that she'd pulp me. And I could almost hear my squeal of pain as I crashed into a table and her whoop of cruel triumph as she seized my shoulders and pinned me down.
 
I tried to block that vision out of my mind.  I had to focus on the fight because in that momentary lapse of attention, I'd stopped hitting her, stopped defending myself too, just long enough for Lauren to seize a fistful of my hair with her other hand. Now with both hands twisting my long silky tresses, she jerked me almost off my feet again. I squealed – the pain was so horrid – as she dragged me forward, swinging me towards her and – my eyes bugged in near terror – straight into her upraised knee.
 
She hammered my stomach not once but three times, the second and third time pumping her knee up again into my sexy curving tummy.  Air and spit erupted from my mouth, driven from my lungs by that trio of cruel, vicious and unanswered blows.  As I struggled to gulp air into my tortured lungs, the pain Lauren had inflicted seeped through my abs, deep into my stomach. I knew I’d feel it for hours, maybe days.  Bile rose in my throat.  I struggled not to throw up but I was the sexy, strong Melissa Windeyer and I struggled successfully. 
 
“Tony,” Lauren sneered, derision dripping from her tongue, “Thanks for the advice but I'll destroy the slut my own way.”
 
What way was that?  I tried to check my imagination, to lock it away along with the pain, somewhere deep inside me where I wouldn’t go – yet – and to fight Lauren. She might win, but she'd pay a high price.  Before she defeated me, I’d make sure she'd suffer.
 
I shook myself inwardly.  What was I thinking? She wouldn’t – couldn’t – win.  That must not happen. Why was I admitting defeat to myself? Then my belly answered me with that terrible warm feeling that radiated down to my thighs, making me moist again, not as Arthur's fingers had done so deliciously just minutes ago, but instead with that dreadful lust for pain.
 
No! I screamed silently to myself in the split second it had taken for these thoughts to rush through my mind.  I would not go down!  I’m Melissa Windeyer!
 
I clawed at Lauren’s face with one hand and tried to punch her with the other. More by luck than judgment, I struck her fleshy boob. She gasped with pain, then gasped again when I landed another punch in her soft belly.  It could – no, would – have been much more powerful if I’d hit with my full force but after the hammering she’d given me, I was battling not to barf, not to simply crumple to my knees. I struck out again, raking my hard, sharp nails down her cheek. She squealed, jerked hard on my hair and all but threw me away. I stumbled a couple of yards before some guy grabbed me around the waist, fondled my boobs, turned me around and shoved me back towards the waiting blonde.
 
“Coming back for seconds?” Lauren taunted me, her hands up, groping for my hair. She thought she was going to repeat her tricks before and with any ordinary foe, she might have gotten away with it.  Not with me – Melissa Windeyer is too smart for that. I locked away my nightmares of craven defeat and at the last moment, when Lauren was fully committed to her attack, I ducked down beneath her outstretched arms.
 
Lauren’s hands groped air, not my flesh or hair and she stumbled forward, unbalanced even in her common flat-soled shoes.  I sprang up, my knees powering my head into her flabby midsection. She groaned and stumbled again, this time sideways.  I didn’t give her a moment’s respite. I still needed to get my shoes off and the way to do that was to put the big fat beetle out of the fight for a moment. I slugged away with my hands, slamming my fists into her body over and over, mixing up my shots so she had trouble defending. I sent her reeling back with repeated punches and slaps. She defended better than I expected, but still most of my blows hit home. After all, I’m Melissa Windeyer – a seasoned fighter.
 
She tried to counter attack but her punch missed and left her wide open for a response. I hammered her hard. She groaned. She struck back and hit my side harder than I felt she would. I yelped with pain and lunged but Lauren was already falling back to regroup.
 
As I scurried back to try to undo the straps on my sandals and kick them off, I looked at her. I shivered when I realised her face was red not with pain or exhaustion but with anger. Fear rose within me at what this strong, hefty, powerful woman might do to me. Visions, horrifyingly clear, swept before my eye of what had happened after Brooke and Jimmy had finished with me, of my lying on the table in that bar, taking anyone and everyone who wanted me as if I, Melissa Windeyer, was the lowest of sluts – a roomwhore like Cassie Foxe. More terrifying was the knowledge that, from flames of lust raging in my belly, there was a part of me that wanted this.
 
I tried once more to focus on the fight and on my foe.  She may have been worn but was she more worn than I was? I’d damaged her, but she’d pounded my stomach.  She looked fresher than me.  She was panting but so was I All the more reason why I needed my shoes off – I needed the mobility to dance around this bitch and sting her often enough to weaken her. I couldn’t do that in my heels but to get them off I had to bend over, and I didn’t dare bend with her so close.
 
Propping my weary body against a table I bent down, lifted one leg and slipped a shoe off. I heard Lauren hiss.  I glanced up and to my horror, she was charging at me. With one shoe still on I stood as quickly as I could and tried to dodge her but was only half upright and hemmed in by the table when she barreled into me . She’d bent forward like a football player and her shoulder hit mine – the one away from the table. If I hadn’t held onto the table’s edge I’d have fallen.
 
I grabbed her hair with my free hand. As I righted myself, I slapped hard at her face. She snarled. Pressed tight against her, I raked my nails down her face, drawing beads of blood. Her snarl turned into a scream but again there was as much fury in it as pain.  My head rocked and I saw stars as she slapped my cheek. I twisted my body and retaliated with as hard a punch as I still could at her stomach. Lauren swerved slightly, catching it on her ribs. I hurt her though.  She grunted and faltered. I rallied.  I could win this yet. I punched again at her chin. She turned her head in the nick of time, catching it on her cheek.
 
“UNNNGGGHHH!!!” My stomach almost exploded with pain. She’d rammed her knee into it – then again.  I doubled over gagging and she seized my hair, pulling me off balance then slinging me past her and sending me sprawling face-down to the floor.  I squealed with pain as my tummy and boobs hit. I rolled, trying to get away from her but she pounced on me instantly.  I clawed at her face as she bent over me, punched and kicked at her body and tried again to roll clear.
 
I got half way, so I was almost lying on my back, when she grabbed my shoulder and shoved me hard, stopping me rolling and leaving me all but defenceless on my back.  Before I could do anything else, she dropped her knee into my already shattered stomach.  My whole body shook at the force of it.  The pain was so bad it made me freeze up solid.  I would have screamed but I didn’t even have enough breath for that.
 
Lauren seized my head and slammed it against the floor.  My vision went dark for a moment.  I made a half-hearted attempt to roll up onto one elbow, gasping in pain from my battered belly but she straddled me, her right hand grabbing my shoulder and pinning me down.  I tried a despairing punch at her own midriff but she swatted it aside with her left hand.
 
She rocked up on her knees then crashed back down, her big ass again crushing my stomach, again driving what little air was left from my lungs. She repeated the move.  I shuddered as the fog of that dark unwelcome lust again rose within me – not despite the pain but because of it.
 
I couldn’t let that happen – not here, not in front of everyone and especially not in front of Arthur!  In a panic I raised my hand, not in defence but in defeat.  “No!  No more…please…no more…” I whimpered as tears of pain, grief and humiliation streaked my face.
 
Lauren stood up.  She looked down her nose at me and nudged me with her foot, not quite a kick. “Next time, find a room before you let someone fuck you.” She turned to the crowd. “Guys, she takes it in public…but I'd take her somewhere else before you give her what she so needs.  I don’t want to listen to her squealing.”
 
Arthur stepped forward before anyone else could.  “Leave her be,” he defended me, his voice quiet but hard as steel.  “You.” He pointed at several of the men and women around us.  “You heard her before, when we were talking about the markets. She's no cheap slut.”
 
He knelt beside me. “Can you get up, Mel?” I tried to push myself up but a ball of pain in my belly made me gag and almost throw up.  “Here, I'll help you.” He slid his arm under my back and almost lifted me up.
 
Another hand appeared in front of me.  I blinked, then seized it.  “Come, Ms Melissa…you can do it,” Lisa encouraged me. She turned to Arthur.  “Sir, I'll take Ms Melissa to the bathroom and patch her up. We'll be a few minutes. Can you take her home then?”
 
Arthur nodded and, with my arm round Lisa's shoulders, I tottered to the bathroom.
 
 

[SunnyB]

Wow, Peccavi, that was one of the MOST amazingly hot stories I've read for a while ... just love your the bitchiness (and vulnerability) of your evolving Melissa character ... and was actually a little disappointed the gallant Arthur saved her some serious further embarrassment at the end ... He! He! 

[peccavi]

Opprbrium 2 Supplex?

“You lost another fight, Melissa...a stupid, unnecessary fight, a fight you for which you were unprepared.  You just jumped up from where you were sitting, and fought a girl you knew was bigger and stronger than you.” Ms Justeen was only a few inches from me. Her eyes flashed as they bored into me. I tried not to tremble. “You were stupid.  You let your temper rule your mind.”
 
“I fought hard,” I argued.  “If I hadn’t had my heels on, I'd have won. I was faster and nimbler.  She may have been stronger but I was sure I had more stamina. I'd have worn her out.”
 
“But you didn't.” Justeen was starting to bore me, stating the obvious. I might have yawned if she wasn’t so in my face – and if she wasn’t Ms Justeen. She tapped her foot on the floor repeatedly.
 
“I had to get my heels off.  Even I...yes even Melissa Windeyer...can't fight in heels. I can't twist and turn enough.”
 
“You weren't prepared.  It’s like I said, you were stupid to get into a fight like that.”  She kept tapping her foot. It was unnerving, even to me, self possessed as I undoubtedly was. “You just lost your temper.”
 
“Ooof” I gulped.  Justeen’s fingers had prodded my stomach hard through my top. Then I reddened. No one did that to me – not Justeen, not anyone.
 
She cut off my protest.  “Well girl?” She prodded me again. She kept tapping her foot. The rhythm was more than unnerving. I could hardly think of anything except that tap, tap, tapping. “Admit it. You lost your temper.”
 
I gulped and flushed.  All the way from my neck to my forehead I was hot, burning with shame. She was right. People expected me to be poised, to be in control of the situation – after all, I am Melissa Windeyer. “But Lauren was so rude to me. She called me a slut who took it in public.” Even I knew this was a pathetic response, a response only a weak sub would make. But I was off guard, even a little confused.  I hadn’t expected such a conversation with Ms Justeen when she invited me to her apartment on the Monday evening after the Saturday I'd fought Lauren. And I certainly hadn’t expected her to corral me against her living room wall as soon as she'd taken my coat from me. Yet here we were, my back was just a few inches from the wall and Justeen stood close in front of me, cutting off any thought of escape. I had nowhere to go.  But of course I’d turn the situation around. Even if I acknowledged that Justeen was my superior, and I did – I even wore her collar – no one, not even Justeen, would keep me off balance for too long.
 
“Lauren was rude to you? Didn’t she just tell it how it was? Arthur Wellesley was masturbating you...in public.  He had his fingers up your cxnt. You were noisy...but then Césaire tells me you're a noisy fuck. No, don't you dare interrupt me girl!” Justeen shoved the palm of her hand hard into my stomach, shoving me against the wall. The air whooshed from my lungs.  No one had ever dared to do this to me – Melissa Windeyer! Certainly not unless we were fighting, and I wasn’t even thinking of fighting Ms Justeen. She kept her palm firmly pressed in my belly, just over my piercing. “It's true Melissa.  He was finger fucking you!” She looked at me steadily. I reddened still more. “You were making a lot of noise... that's true too.”
 
It was all so wrong. I tried to tell Justeen she was twisting the truth. Arthur had chosen a quiet spot, out of the way and screened by a wall of greenery. Only prurient-minded people would pry into what we were doing there – prurient-minded bitches like that Lauren. I opened my mouth to say so but Justeen just talked over me. 
 
“Don’t you dare interrupt me!” She shoved her palm deeper into my sensuously curving stomach. Her fingers kneaded it. My innards flipped over. I gasped. Surely Ms Justeen wasn’t playing me – working on my tummy fetish? She wouldn’t do that to me. But whatever she was doing, she was fuelling my craving. “Clearly you learned nothing from what happened with Colleen, or with Jimmy Berwick.” Justeen spoke slowly as though choosing each word carefully and quietly, even though there was no one else around to hear. “You let them play with your mind.  You took Colleen’s bait, her pretended worship of you. She weakened you till you couldn’t resist what she did next, till your mind was just seething with lust. Then she flipped you and took you hard.”
 
I gulped, unable to speak. Her fingers tightened and squeezed my belly – not just the skin but the firm muscles beneath too. It flipped over again. It hurt a little but it felt good – dangerously good. I tried to bank down the flames of lust. I had to stop myself from being weak, from letting Ms Justeen use me – yes, me, Melissa Windeyer. I knew she could.  She’d made me admit her power over me. I knew she would if I didn’t get a grip on myself. Melissa Windeyer being slutted by a Domme – it was unthinkable.
 
She released her grip a little, letting her fingers ‘walk’ across my tummy. “You should have known from what Colleen did, how vulnerable you were...but you did know, didn’t you?” Her eyes bored into mine. She found my piercing.  Her fingers rolled it around.  I couldn’t talk, my mouth was kiln-dry. I swallowed.
 
 “You knew, and yet you let Jimmy play with your mind. You took his bait.  He pretended to flirt with you, he excited you with the thought of fighting Brooke...over him. You could have escaped...you could have had the self-control to walk away...but you didn’t. Then, when he’d weakened you, he played you...and again he took you hard. So did Brooke.  So did everyone who wanted a piece of you.” My body shook at that horrid memory. “And in the same way, you let Arthur flatter you. He milked that story of what you’d done to Lisa out of you. Why? Not just because it’s a great story...though it is.  It shows you can...sometimes...be a good Domme.  But he got you talking about it because he knew it would make you all hot...” She twisted my piercing again and I tried not to squirm.  “All horny...all ready for him to fuck you. You took Arthur’s bait just like you took Jimmy’s.”
 
Again I wanted to tell her it wasn’t like that, that Arthur hadn’t wanted to use me in public. Instead I whimpered as Justeen’s fingers suddenly stabbed deeply, painfully into my navel. My tummy churned as she jabbed again. The pain was almost pleasurable. She kneaded my stomach.  I gulped. I trembled as what I knew from past experience was a mini orgasm surged through me. I tried to push Ms Justeen’s hand away. I wanted to ask her to stop playing with me. She cut me off. “Girl,” she said quietly, firmly, “didn’t you remember how the others...Colleen, Jimmy and Brooke, had played you, had used you publicly? Didn’t you remember how they weakened you, so you were just a quaking jello of lust?” Justeen traced her finger over my top around my stomach piercing. “Well girl? Answer me!”
 
“Yes Ms Justeen,” I croaked. “I remembered.”
 
“And how you’d done nothing to stop them when you had the chance.”
 
My stomach churned at the memories, of the lust welling inside me, of just how wanton I’d become – just how needy I’d been.  Those memories fed my lust now.  I shook my head.  ”No Ms Justeen.” My voice quavered.  My eyes were closed.  “I didn’t.”
 
Justeen drove her thumb into my navel. She squeezed the delicate curves of my sensuous, full tummy with her strong fingers. I trembled.  I bit my tongue to stifle a moan.
 
“Face facts...Lauren was right. You are a slut, Melissa Windeyer.” Justeen’s fingers gripped and tugged my piercing. I whimpered. My belly seethed like a boiling pot. Lust blazed inside me – that same horrid lust that Colleen and Jimmy had unleashed. My legs were like rubber. I shook violently.
 
“Whatever else you say you are, you’re a slut.” Justeen’s fingers jabbed my stomach again. This time I moaned out loud. She stepped back a pace, releasing me, and my legs gave out. I fell to my knees before her.
 
“Yes Ms Justeen. I’m a slut.” I couldn’t deny it, not with my pussy so wet I felt my juices beginning to stain my jeans.
 
“Good girl.” Ms Justeen smiled.  “Yes, you’re a slut but you need to try not to show it in public again.”  She bent and patted my cheek. “Now go take a shower...a long, hot shower. You’ll find everything you need waiting for you. Then we’ll talk some more.”  I stood up slowly, and tottered down the hallway to the bathroom.
 
When I opened the door, my eyes widened and I gulped. As I expected, there was a thick, folded towel on the vanity with a cake of soap on top of it, but also on top of the towel was a dildo.
 
My eyes fixed on the toy, I stripped off with frantic haste, leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor. I grabbed the dildo with one hand as I turned on the shower with the other. Without even waiting for the water to warm up properly, I stepped into the stall, squatted slightly and plunged the toy deep inside me.
 
I felt instantly filled and immediately came hard, clutching at the tiled wall to steady myself. I worked the toy in and out. It was only after I’d cum for the third time that I realised I’d never used a toy on myself before. I’d never had to. There had always been a guy keen to satisfy me or a subbie girl eager to worship me. But not now. What had Ms Justeen said?  ‘You’ll find all you need waiting for you.’ All that I needed indeed. Ms Justeen had planned all this.  She'd been in control since I walked through her door. She knew she'd make me all hot. She knew I'd need release. I gulped again.  She knew I’d be needy – a needy subbie slut.
 
No – she knew I’d be her needy subbie slut. Yes, Ms Justeen owned me. I fingered her collar, the gold necklace I’d worn the night of the fight with Brittany Summers, the night Ms Justeen had claimed me. I remembered how she’d fingered the necklace and whispered, “What a lovely collar”. She’d claimed me then.  She owned me now.
 
I remembered too, how Arthur had fingered my collar when he came to my assistance after my fight with Lauren, only two nights ago. Lisa, a skinny blonde who I’d fought and beaten – and topped - before, had helped me to the shower block at the Crystal Gardens at Navy Pier.  I hadn’t dared let her in the shower with me though, for fear that she’d take advantage of me. Normally, I’d have been able to deal with her.  After all, I’d shown my strength when I’d fought her on the beach and my power when I’d used her as my slut in the bar. But at that moment, I’d lost a fight and I was wary.  I didn’t trust her.
 
I felt better after the shower. Arthur and Lisa helped me out to his car. Of course I didn’t need the help but I wanted Arthur to feel gallant –to let him feel he was helping a damsel in distress. I also wanted Lisa to feel that she was helping her mistress.  Never let it be said that Melissa Windeyer isn’t gracious.
 
My eyes widened when I saw Arthurs’s Jaguar XK coupe. I so deserved to be sitting beside Arthur with my shoulder nestled against his, while Lisa sat in the back seat. But when Arthur opened the passenger side door, Lisa pulled the front seat forward. “Come on honey...you’ll be more comfortable in the back.  You can stretch out and rest those sore bones.”
 
I brindled.  How dare this fluff ball tell me what to do, let alone call me honey. “Lisa...” I began.
 
She cut me off, insisting.  “Now Melissa, you know you’ll be better in the back.”
 
I looked at Arthur who had opened his door and was getting in. Lisa leaned into the car. I couldn’t hear all that she whispered to him but I heard some of his reply. “You’re putting Mel in her place for losing. No way can she stop you...not now...but later? Are you sure you want...?”
 
Lisa stood up again and looked at me.  “Back seat, Melissa,” she said.
 
I thought about arguing further, but I knew I was in no shape to confront her – not there and then.  I ducked my head and climbed – crawled to be precise – into the back seat. It wasn’t easy. A luxury sports car like the XK isn’t designed to sit adults in the back seat. I was cramped squeezing past the front seat and I was cramped as Arthur pulled away.  Despite Lisa’s assurance that I’d be more comfortable, I couldn’t stretch out.  My body, still sore from the fight, ached. I squirmed in a vain effort to get comfortable. I glared at the back of Lisa’s head.  I couldn’t do anything at that moment – Arthur was right – but I was going to make Lisa pay. How dare she humiliate me, Melissa Windeyer?
 
It was Lisa whose head rested against Arthur’s shoulder as he drove. It was her hand that stroked his thigh. It was she who whispered in his ear. It was me who sat twisted in the back seat – me, Melissa Windeyer!, who was incomparably more sexy, more alluring than scrawny Lisa Howard, Melissa Windeyer who had proven my dominance over Lisa twice, Melissa Windeyer who had what Arthur had so rightly called the chutzpah, the gall, the self-assurance to hoodwink his friends about economics. It was so wrong. I deserved to be where Lisa was – but I wasn’t. I pouted in the darkness.
 
Still, when we got to Arthur’s apartment, things seemed different.  They treated me correctly, even deferentially – like the goddess I am. It was Arthur who helped me out of the car, caressing my butt as he did so. It was Lisa who ran a shower for me, “You’ll feel so much better...all those aches and pains will be gone,” and it was Lisa who met me when I got out of the shower, with soothing ointment. She helped me apply it, rubbing it on my arms and upper body.
 
When she shifted to my thighs and tummy, she rubbed so softly that every stroke was a caress, a caress that sent little shock waves of pleasure jolting through me.  My tired, sore body tingled. I arched my back, pushing my smooth, full, sensuously curving tummy toward her.
 
Lisa knelt in front of me. “Let me worship you, Ms Melissa,” She leaned forward on her knees.  Her tongue caressed my navel.  I shivered.  She licked all around my piercing.  She sucked and flicked her tongue on it. I stroked her hair as she kept licking, as one hand stroked the smooth velvet skin of my flank from ribs to hip and back again, while the other trailed up and down the inside of my thigh, every up stroke reaching a little higher than the one before.
 
Every stroke, every lick sent electric shocks of pleasure surging through me and fanned my desire even more. My fluttering, churning stomach, my shaking hips manifested my growing lust. I leaned back against the wall as Lisa’s finger slipped inside me. I was rocked by a mini orgasm, then another.  Then, as her tongue found the center of my arousal, I had to grip her shoulders as a third climax rocked me. I couldn’t help but remember how Colleen had played me, but that had been in a public bar.  This was worship in a private bathroom.  This was how it should be. I put the images of Colleen out of my mind.
 
Now however, it was time to remind Lisa that I was Melissa Windeyer and she was less than nothing compared to me.  “Lisa...Lisa, that’s quite enough” I gripped her by the hair and pushed her head back hard, away from me. I bent forward and kissed her, sweetening my reprimand. “If you keep that up, we’ll both need another shower soon.”  We shared a giggle. “We should join Arthur. He is our host.”  I took a wash cloth and wiped her face.
 
“Oh yes honey.  He’ll be ready now,” Lisa said intriguingly. She held out a warm, luxurious bathrobe for me.  “You don’t need to get dressed yet, honey.”
 
I stood up.  She had dared to call me ‘honey’ again.  No doubt it’s hard for most women – even most Dommes – to have a commanding air when naked in a strange bathroom, especially when they’ve just been eaten out, but then I’m not most women.  I’m Melissa Windeyer.  I drew myself erect and stared at Lisa coldly.
 
She must have noticed my anger because, before I could open my mouth to scold her, she corrected herself.  “Please Ms.” She lowered her eyes.  “Arthur wants you to wear the robe.  He’s got something special in mind for you. We planned it in the car.  That was the real reason I wanted to sit in front seat but I couldn’t tell you.  It’s a surprise.”
 
I smiled graciously.  Arthur was clearly planning something to help lift my spirits.  How considerate of him – though of course it was no less than I deserved.  I turned and let Lisa help me slip my arms into the sleeves of the robe.  “Of course, sweetie.  I’m happy to oblige Arthur.”  And I was.  Arthur was just the kind of guy – rich, handsome and slightly quirky – that I deserved.  I’d play along and let him – and Lisa – spoil me.  It would make them happy and it would do no harm.  I wondered what he had in store – no doubt it would be something pleasurable. 
 
The little mystery was solved when Lisa led me out to the living room.  Arthur sat smiling at one end of the couch.  On the coffee table was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, and three glasses.  Lisa ushered me to the middle of the couch, next to Arthur, and she sat down on the other side of me.  She poured a glass of champagne and handed it to me with a smile, her head slightly bowed – as she put it, “the goddess and her attendants”.  I knew Arthur had given her those words but I smiled nonetheless as I sipped the champagne.  It was cold and delicious.
 
We chatted for a few minutes during which Arthur kept my glass full. He stroked my thigh, running his hand under my robe as he and Lisa talked. Lisa too started stroking me, on my other thigh. I leaned back on the couch with them nestled close on either side of me.  This devoted attention was just what I needed after such a gruelling battle with that bitch Lauren – and of course it was no more than my due.
 
“What a lovely necklace” Arthur said, running his other hand over it. He smirked.  “Is that all you have on, under the robe?”
 
“Err, umm...yes Arthur.” I said blushing.
 
“You kept it on in the shower too,” said Lisa with a sudden sharpness that made me snap my head around toward her. “Why?” 
 
My blush deepened.  I squirmed uncomfortably.  There was no way I could tell her.
 
I didn’t need to.  ”It’s a collar, isn’t it?” she went on.  “Admit it, Melissa!  You’re collared!”
 
“What’s a collar?” Arthur asked. I jerked my eyes back to him.  I couldn’t believe he was that naive.
 
“When a submissive,” Lisa placed a heavy emphasis on the word, “is owned by a Master or Mistress, she wears a collar to show it.  So if,” she stressed the word and paused, “if Melissa owned me, I’d wear her collar. But it’s Melissa who’s owned.” She traced her finger along the necklace just as Arthur had done.  “That’s right, isn’t it Melissa?”
 
I gulped.  I could feel the heat in my face and I knew I was bright red.  I mumbled something inarticulately as I fought to regain control of the situation.  I might sub to Ms Justeen but not to a nothing like Lisa.  I needed to reassert my power.  I glared at her with all the frost I could muster.  She immediately recognised my strength and realised she had overstepped her bounds.  She lowered her eyes again.
 
“It’s ok Melissa.” Arthur cupped my chin in his free hand and gently turned my head to face him. He kissed me.  His tongue probed deep into my mouth. I squirmed in my seat.  I was reclining, almost laying on the deep cushions of the sofa, while Arthur and Lisa were sitting forward, turned in toward me, almost hovering over me like – well, like the servants of a goddess.  I knew I was perspiring.  The warmth of the room, plus the attention they were giving me made me hot in more ways than one.
 
Lisa’s free hand slid inside my robe.  Her fingertips caressed my stomach.  She found my piercing and tugged it gently. I gulped as Arthur broke the kiss.  His hand slid down my neck, over my shoulder, beneath the robe and onto my chest, cupping and squeezing a breast. I almost moaned. Lisa’s uncompleted adoration in the bathroom had left me hornier than I’d realised. I could feel the dampness in my pussy.  Arthur’s hand returned to my thigh, brushing higher.  My back arched.  Lisa’s hand lightly slapped my stomach before travelling up inside the robe, between my breasts. I looked down to see the robe gaping wide. My nipples, pink and puckered, were exposed.  Lisa patted my cheek, then more firmly pushed at it, turning my head toward her. I pushed her hand away. No subbie pushed Melissa Windeyer around.
 
“Relax Melissa,” murmured Arthur reassuringly.  “You’re among friends...friends who want to treat you as a goddess deserves to be treated.” His hand held and squeezed mine. “Can you blame Lisa for getting a little carried away by your voluptuous body...truly that of a goddess? We want to give you pleasure.” Then he kissed me again, more gently this time. My body relaxed.
 
I allowed Lisa to turn my head toward her this time, and she kissed me in her turn. As she did so, her hand on my thigh slid upward, skirting my crotch, to my belly. She stroked it gently. I sighed.  The sensation was so delightful. I slipped one arm around Lisa’s shoulders and the other around Arthur’s waist, drawing them both closer. Lisa continued to caress my stomach. Arthur’s hand stroked my thigh. Lisa cooed into my ear, then kissed me passionately.  I kissed her right back.  This was how a goddess like me should be treated.
 
Suddenly Lisa jabbed her thumb hard into my navel. She stifled my gasp of pain and protest by thrusting her tongue into my mouth, her lips sealing mine. Her hand holding my cheek slipped to the back of my head, holding me in place as she ground her thumb deeper into my tummy. I must have parted my legs because as she kissed me, Arthur slipped two fingers into my moist pussy. My hips bucked upward involuntarily but his other hand pressed down on my belly, working around Lisa’s fingers, squeezing and kneading my flesh.
 
“Goddess Melissa” Lisa whispered, her lips brushing mine, “let us pleasure you.  Let us wipe away those memories of that fight.  Let us serve you.”
 
Though I was surprised by their sudden aggression – no, not aggression but passion – I realized she was right. I owed it to them to let them serve me. After all, I was with Arthur who worshipped me, and Lisa whom I’d conquered as a sub, as I’d proved again earlier that night. Nothing could go wrong.
 
I relaxed once more as Lisa kissed me again.  I moaned into her kiss as Arthur’s fingers slid in and out of me. Within seconds I could barely breathe with my mouth sealed by Lisa’s lips, her hand holding my head firmly. My lust burned within me, blocking out any thoughts of asserting myself.  All I could do, all I wanted to do, was to surrender to the moment and let them worship me.
 
I writhed frantically, uncontrollably on Arthur’s fingers as they thrust in and out of my sopping pussy.  His other hand stroked and squeezed my stomach as Lisa’s thumb and fingers tortured my belly button by jabbing it hard. The pain and pleasure were too much. In less than a minute from when Arthur’s fingers invaded me, I broke the kiss, threw my head back and bayed like a bitch in heat as I came hard.
 
They didn’t let up though but continued their oh-so-pleasurable onslaught. I squirmed, writhed, moaned and screamed as they kept me cumming time after time. I lost count of the orgasms that wracked my body until everything seemed to go white and I felt myself falling backwards.
 
It must have been only a few moments later, though it felt like an eternity, when my face and then my body went suddenly cold. Startled, I opened my eyes. Lisa and Arthur had sloshed cold water from the ice bucket on me.  I shivered and looked up at them as they smiled down at me.  They were fully dressed, unlike me.  My robe had fallen completely open, baring me from head to toe.  My arms were still in the sleeves but I was sitting on the robe rather than wearing it.
 
“What are you going to tell the drycleaner about that robe, Arthur? She certainly made a mess of it.” Lisa smirked, her gaze directed between my still-spread legs.  Then she looked at me.  “You came gushing on it...see?” She pointed to the stains on the wet bathrobe bunched beneath my butt and held out her hand. “Give it here.”
 
I whimpered. I looked from Arthur to Lisa and back.  “Do as she says Melissa.” Arthur’s voice was stern.  “Take it off.” I shuddered at his tone and stood up.  My legs wobbled as I peeled off the robe.  It was so damp that it clung to my thighs.  “Give it to Lisa.”  I did so, then stood there naked and barefoot in front of them, shivering.  It was difficult, even for me – Melissa Windeyer – to maintain my command when my body was still quivering with the aftershocks of my orgasms.  My mind was just as lethargic as my body.
 
“Turn around!” Lisa purred. “Let’s see what you look like.” Trembling on unsteady legs, I did as I was told. “Our goddess has such a gorgeous body, Arthur...look at those boobs...36DD, I bet, and all natural too!” Lisa stepped toward me and I whimpered again as she squeezed each in turn.  When she brushed her thumbs across my still-hard nipples, I almost collapsed to my knees in front of her. 
 
“That long, silky brown hair,” she continued.  “I’m sure it’d shimmer in the light...that is, if it wasn’t all matted and mussed up.”  She stroked a strand of it back off my face.  “But then, Melissa’s just had a very thorough workout.
 
“Then there’s that oh-so-sexy tummy.” My loins twitched and I gasped as she stroked my belly softly.  “Melissa’s no stick figure.  No, she’s a real woman – one like Marilyn Monroe or Jane Russell. Indeed a goddess, a grey eyed Athena.”  At those words of appreciation – adoration – I smiled at her through my lust.
 
“Look at her skin, Arthur...almost flawless...and a lovely pear-shaped butt too.”  She twirled a finger at me.  “Turn Melissa.  Turn around.”  Her voice was sharp now, in contrast to her loving words.  I didn’t know what to think – even if I’d been capable of thinking through the desire she had Arthur had not fully assuaged – so again I did as I was told. 
 
“And look at these legs...strong, shapely pillars.”  She cupped a butt cheek in her hand before continuing, “supporting a splendid edifice.”  She grinned. “Well, the pillars are maybe just a little shaky right now.”  She took me by the shoulders, turning me to face Arthur, displaying me to him.  “Arthur I present you, Ms Melissa Windeyer.”
 
She stood close behind me, still holding me.  “We’ve taken care of you.”  He voice was a commanding hiss that made me jump.  “Now it’s time to show your gratitude.” She pushed firmly downward on my shoulders – so firmly that she shoved me to my knees.
 
On all fours in front of Arthur, my eyes were immediately drawn to the bulge in his trousers.  I looked up at him.  He didn’t smile, but nodded.  I undid his belt and unzipped his pants.  I remembered my promise to myself – that I’d suck him off under the table in the Crystal Garden. Events had gotten in the way of that, but now I started to do so in his apartment.
 
I teased his head with my tongue and licked his shaft all over.  Spit was a great lube, making my mouth slide more smoothly over his cock.  I’d just taken him in my mouth, bobbing back and forth, getting a rhythm going, when I felt my legs being parted where my knees supported me on the floor. I let Lisa – who else could it be? – move in between my legs. I started when I felt something cold and hard nudge between my thighs, then gasped as it drove deep into me, stretching my walls. I knew what it was – Lisa was using a strappie on me. I’d never taken one in such a situation before. I looked up at Arthur.  His eyes were bright.  He patted my head.  Then Lisa yanked on my hair and thrust the toy inside me hard – brutally hard. 
 
I’d have screamed if I hadn’t had Arthur’s shaft in my mouth.  As it was, I groaned and pitched forward from the force of it, cramming his cock down my throat, the springy hairs at the base of him tickling my nose.  Another girl might have bitten him, but not Melissa Windeyer. No, I had the presence of mind and sangfroid to keep on giving Arthur what I knew would be the best head he’d ever had.
 
I found that giving head while someone was taking me was even better than just giving head.  I’d only had the experience once before and this this time was so different than that awful night when Colleen had handed me over to that hyena Robbyn, who used a toy on me while some opportunistic male vulture fucked my mouth. This time was different – so much better.  This time, I was the centre of attention.  I was the goddess bestowing favours on her worshippers.
 
I was disappointed when Arthur came.  Distracted by my own desire, I hadn’t been able to draw out his pleasure long enough. It was just as well though since, seconds after he’d shot his load, Lisa yanked my head up and pulled my mouth off Arthur’s cock.  She arched my back and thrust deeper still into me. The pain in my scalp and neck combined with the pleasure as the smooth hard strappie slid over that spot was enough for me to scream like a banshee as I came again.
 
Lisa giggled.  “You are a noisy fuck!” She didn’t stop though and while I wanted to remonstrate with her, doing so while being fucked hard was too much even for Melissa Windeyer.  I let it pass and fell forward, my face and chest pressed against the carpet and my ass in the air, cumming over and over.
 
Finally she pulled out of me, leaving me shaking, sobbing and moaning as another series of aftershocks coursed through me.  “Hush honey.” I didn’t have the strength then, nor the wherewithal, to chide her for the ‘honey’.  She rolled me over onto my back where I lay panting for breath, my chest heaving. 
 
Lisa knelt over me.  Her dress was already up around her waist.  She unfastened the strappie, tossed it aside and lowered her pussy – bare of panties – onto my face.  I lapped at her eagerly as she ground down on me.  She was a generous as she was demanding however and she bent forward, wrapped her hands around my shuddering thighs and buried her face in my streaming pussy. 
 
We ate each other out. I don’t know how many times we came – counting was beyond me at that point – but I know my face was a mess of Lisa’s juices when she, apparently as spent as I was, rolled off me.  I lay there unable to move, totally sated, totally exhausted. I could taste her along with Arthur in my throat. Never had I had sex like that.  My pussy didn’t seem to know it was over, and a succession of tremors came upon me without warning, making me moan and tremble as they slowly abated.
 
I was still unable to move when I heard moans from the sofa above me.  Blinking to focus my eyes, I saw Lisa and Arthur entwined on the couch.  They kissed passionately, their hands roving over each other’s bodies, caressing, fondling, then beginning to remove each other’s clothes. I tried to get up, to join them once more, but I’d barely gotten to my knees when they rose and walked, arm in arm, still kissing, into a bedroom and closed the door.
 
I tried to stand but my legs wouldn’t support me, so I crawled on my hands and knees to the door.  I tried the handle.  It was locked.
 
I wanted to sit and cry with dismay. It should have been me in there with Arthur, not that fluff ball Lisa.
 
That horrid memory was enough to jolt me from the warm and pleasant, lust-filled haze I’d enjoyed in Ms Justeen’s shower. It was time to see why my Mistress had demanded I see her. I dressed and went back into the living room.
 
“You took your time Melissa...but I expected you would.” Justeen smiled knowingly. “Did you think about Friday night...not just the fight but what happened afterwards?” I gulped. “I see you did. You let Arthur and Lisa play with you...not with your mind but your body. Yes, I know what happened, perhaps not every sordid detail but I know what they did.” I gulped harder and reddened.
 
“You let them play with you,” she went on.  “You were their sex toy. They sat you down, got you hot...not that that’s difficult...and made you cum repeatedly.  They each used you for their gratification...made you serve them..and then, after they’d worn you out, they retired to the bedroom and left you alone.” 
 
I wanted to protest, to tell her that it was them who had been serving me – worshipping the goddess – but I knew it was false.  The locked door had dispelled that illusion beyond any doubt.
 
“You let them do that,” continued Ms Justeen. “You could have resisted their first approach, but no. Why did you let them?” I tried to mutter something.  She cut me off.  “No excuses. I’ll tell you why. You’re a slut, Melissa Windeyer, pure and simple.  You’re a slut.”
 
I burned with shame as Ms Justeen laid it out for me. I saw just how stupid I’d been. Stupid was not a word people used in the same breath as Melissa Windeyer – nor was slut. But that’s what I’d been. 
 
Once again I saw that I would have to rebuild my reputation and that I’d need to be more on my guard against those deceitful conniving small minded people who had nothing more to do than plot and scheme against their betters. I still couldn’t believe that Arthur would have stooped so low.  Surely Lisa must have put him up to it. Lisa – that nobody, that fluff ball whom I’d destroyed in a fight, who’d been eating out of my hand like the subbie she was. It had obviously been her way of getting back at me.
 
“I expected better of you, Melissa.” Ms Justeen’s voice jerked me out of my reverie.  “You’ve disappointed me...let me down.  I expect you to redeem yourself.  You may go now, Melissa.”
 
I blinked.  No one had ever dismissed me like that.  After all I am Melissa Windeyer. But Ms Justeen was Ms Justeen, so I slunk out of her apartment like a naughty schoolgirl. I knew where I stood – or rather where I knelt – with Ms Justeen. Ms Justeen was so much my superior, so much more powerful. That was why I wore her collar. No ordinary Domme could own Melissa Windeyer. 
 
But knowing and liking were different things. It was not just shame that made me fume all the way home, it was resentment too – futile resentment against Ms Justeen.  How could someone be so much stronger than me that I, Melissa Windeyer, would surrender without a fight – without so much as a scuffle?  All it had taken were a few words from her.  My resentment stemmed not just from that however.  I also resented the way she could hold up a mirror to my face and make me see what I’d let others do to me. Visions flitted across my mind of Justeen kneeling to me, of her worshipping me, visions- pointless idle fantasies which I knew would never happen in real life.
 
I resented Arthur too, for teaming with Lisa, for letting her sit in the front seat of his car and to cuddle up with him there where I knew she used every trick, every weapon in her pathetic little armoury, every one of her insignificant feminine charms to manipulate him into taking advantage of my weakened state after the fight with Lauren and to make me their sex toy. I knew Arthur wouldn’t have done that without prompting. But like all men he thought – sometimes, at least – with his dick. But most of all I resented him – no, I burned with anger at him – for taking that scheming, skinny bitch, that nothing into his bedroom and fucking her rather than me.  He hadn’t always been that way.
 
I decided I needed a coffee.  There was a Starbucks nearby so I stopped, bought a pumpkin spice latte – it was almost Thanksgiving so they were in season – and a pastry, and tried to console myself by remembering when and where I’d first met Arthur Wellesley.

[peccavi]

It had been about eighteen months before – the high summer of 2004.  At that time, Amanda Sinclair – the spoiled brat whose parents owned the business where I worked – had been telling everyone who’d listen about a marvellous party at the Beverley Country Club, that she and her friends were going to the following month. I heard her on her cell phone. “Of course we’re all going!  Like we will always be the number one clique!   Were we busy for a while? Totes! Do we have lives outside of partying?  But of course! I mean, how can you rule so much if you don't? We’ve all got careers...not sucky jobs like sales clerks. Poor Karly, she totally joined the wrong clique.  Like some of the silkies even catch the bus to work, just like the sales clerks here do!”
 
She made out that the party was going to be the A-List event of the year, saying how she and her cronies would be rubbing shoulders with all the best people, the most desirable, hot, rich guys and the most glamorous, best dressed women. It wasn't just a social event either.  There'd be business networking, opportunities to meet people who could further careers. She was dismissive of us.  “Of course, a store clerk like you wouldn’t get anything out of that but for people like me...people going places, the Beverley will be the place to be.”
 
The other girls in the store grumbled.  They wanted to go to the party but that's all they did – grumble. They didn't deserve to go.  I did, because I didn’t just want to go.  I did something about it.
 
Amanda had gotten used to making me her secretary.  She'd call into the store and leave me things to do. Even though I was a sales clerk and not a typist, she kept making these demands on me. For that matter she still does, even though I’m now a decor consultant.  Back then though, she knew I had the time and the talent to handle the extra work. After all, I was no mere clerk and now I’m no mere consultant.  I’m Melissa Windeyer.
 
When Amanda told me to reply to the invitation, accepting for herself and her friends, I quietly included my name on the list and made sure I got the letter with the formal party invitations and name tags before anyone else did. I thought of everything, including the ticket prices. I rang the promoter and got a group discount – one extra ticket free.  Few people would have had the brains to plan all that, let alone the audacity to carry it off, but then no one else is Melissa Windeyer.
 
The party was all that Amanda said it would be.  It was still daylight when it started though that's late in mid-summer in Chicago. I got there early – I didn’t want one of Amanda's cronies to ask why I was there – but there was no way that Melissa Windeyer could enter a party without heads turning. Of course I dressed perfectly for the event – a form-fitting lacy top the colour of old ivory, a scarlet blazer and with a matching mini skirt and calf boots. The whole outfit was set off with a pendant that nestled out of sight in my cleavage.
 
Of course such good taste naturally provokes jealousy in lessor beings.  I heard one girl twittering, “Look at that.  Does she think she’s going?  Some cheap nightclub?”
 
Her friend shot back, “No, cheap made-in-Bangladesh garbage like that is more suited to the street corner outside the night club.”
 
I decided to ignore such comments.  Yes, I’d bought my clothes off the clearance rack at Aéropostale but I didn’t have the money to go to somewhere like Abercrombie and Fitch.  It wasn’t like either of those girls were particularly well dressed in any case.  Both could have just walked in off the golf course, and probably had.  The bitch who’d spoken first wore a sun visor, a short-sleeved sweater and a pleated skirt over long socks and sneakers.  I guessed she was trying for a preppy look.  Too bad she was at least thirty and far too old to pull it off.  Her snarky friend wore a zip-up short-sleeved top and culottes.  They were all designer labels – Nike, Titleist and Calloway logos all over them – but golf gear, not what people wore to a sophisticated party.  When I got to their level in the social pecking order – and I would – I wouldn’t flaunt my riches the way they did.  I’d dress appropriately.
 
I didn’t expect to know many people – apart from Amanda and her cronies – at the party, so I'd expected it would take a while for me to find the place I deserved to be, at the center of a throng eager to satisfy my whims, happy to talk with me and bask in my smiles. So I was pleasantly surprised when, within a few moments, I was approached by a tall dark haired, blue eyed man with a hooked nose, and invited to join a group of young men and women chatting about the Cubs season.
 
During a lull in the conversation I asked him whether he’d played college football.
“How did you know?” He smiled widely. “You’re very perceptive. Um...Melissa, isn’t it?...would you help me get a round of drinks for us all? What will you have?” He started taking orders from his friends.
 
“Arthur, please don’t go off.”  The girl next to him pouted.  “The waiters will be round again in a moment.”  She was a brunette, an inch or so taller than me, dressed so as to flaunt her cleavage in a low cut, clinging and almost sheer dress that finished just below her ass and was really more of a swimsuit cover-up.  I could see she had a bikini underneath.  She wore high heels and some bangles. Although the invitations had reminded us to bring swimsuits if we wanted to swim at the Olympic-sized pool at the country club, there was no need to be wearing them under your clothes.  That just looked trashy.
 
“Maybe so Tina, but everyone’s glass is empty, so let’s not wait on the waiters.” He grinned at his own pun as he turned to me, squeezing my arm lightly. “Melissa and I will be right back.”
 
“Whose table are you on?” Tina’s question had a subtext; that I was a freeloader. Somehow she knew. Her gaze would have made most women quail. But not Melissa Windeyer.
 
I stared straight back and replied without pausing. “I work with Amanda Sinclair.”
 
Arthur collected the glasses on a tray that had held food and which a waiter had left a few moments ago. “Come on, Melissa.  I want to know how you knew I played football.”
 
I felt Tina’s eyes burning a hole in my back as we walked away, but I’m Melissa Windeyer and she didn’t faze me. We passed Ms Wannabe Preppy Golfer and her friend, and I heard her say, “The kinds of people they let in here.”  She looked at me but jerked her hand toward Tina.  “Trailer trash...but that one underdresses”
 
“They’re both cheap, Bronwyn,” her stuck-up friend replied.  “I don’t know what the Beverley’s coming to.  It used to be a good place...the right kind of people and no crowding but they...well, let’s be charitable and say they just multiplied the sleaze factor tenfold.”
 
I wanted to give them both a piece of my mind but I didn’t want to make a scene in front of Arthur so I shrugged my shoulders and walked on.  Not everyone could be as well dressed as me on such a limited budget but they’d nailed Tina so they weren’t entirely dumb.  Anyway, they were behind me and I was with Arthur Wellesley.
 
I told Arthur it was his nose that had given away his football career.  It was so hooked that it looked as though it had been broken.  That often happened in football.  He chuckled. “Actually, it’s a family characteristic.  They called me ‘old nosy’ at prep school back east. But yes I played for the U.” He noticed my hesitation – I wondered what he meant by ‘the U’ – and he added, “I mean Chicago University.”  I saw I’d have to be on my best performance if I wanted to impress this high flyer.
 
Now I knew why Tina was so angry when Arthur talked with me. The tramp was obviously trying to get her hooks into him. Of course Arthur was far too good for her. Me, on the other hand – well, I’m Melissa Windeyer.  I deserved a guy like Arthur.
 
I encouraged him to talk about what I know is most men’s favourite topic – himself – while the barman prepared our drinks.  Before long, we were back with the others.
 
Of course, Tina tried to claim Arthur back. She stood so close to him that he had to put his arm around her waist. He didn’t have to run his fingers up and down her side, but he did.  She giggled at every one of his jokes, even the most fatuous, and tried to pretend she was just as cultured as he was.  She talked and talked to him, almost monopolising the conversation. I let her.  Arthur would quickly see what she was – and he did. He steered the chat back to more general topics, drawing his friends and me into what Tina had clearly hoped would be their tete a tete. Still he stood with her at his side, until a waiter came by with canapés. He moved to pick some up. “Melissa, you helped me get some drinks.  Let me help with some food.” He smiled as he handed me a few morsels.
 
“Thank you Arthur.  That’s very kind of you.”
 
“Oh...you’ve got a bit of food on your face.” He leaned toward me and, with his thumb, brushed off what must have been the smallest crumb imaginable.
 
“Thank you Arthur,” I repeated with a smile. I kissed his cheek – the merest peck.
 
He smiled and slid his hand around my waist. It was just a quick squeeze but it was enough, I saw, to make Tina fume. He talked to me and to his friends, drawing me – and Tina too who was also clearly new to most of the people here – into the conversation.
 
All too soon our pleasant time was broken by a high pitched, shrill voice.  “Oh daaarling!  How totally amazing to see you.” The voice was so penetrating I felt forced to turn and look for the speaker.
 
There were a gaggle of girls in the fanciest of clothes, all of them designer labels and far more expensive than I could afford. My clothes were cotton while theirs were silk and yet for all their glamour I knew I looked better – incomparably more sexy – than any of them. There was a simple and infallible way to tell – the guys were looking and chatting to me, not them.
 
The shrill girl embraced another new girl who kissed her and trilled, “Hi girls!  So...is this like, the place to join?  Heidi said I’d be a great fit so here I am! Where do I sign up?” She giggled.
 
“Oh darling!  You are flawlessly hot and amazing!  Oh my God! Look, girls...look at those golden sandals!  How rad. And what a dress!  Totally hawt look.” I’d never before heard someone drawl “hot” in such a way that you could hear the ‘aw’ in it.  “You must totally dress in Kenzie!  Dress, shoes, accessories...such a gorgeous bag!  Is it Gucci?  I mean, it’s just the total look. Ummmmmmm...yeah!” The shrill voiced girl twittered on.  “I would say you're pretty much, like, a perfect addition to The Silk Stockings Girls!! I really think you'll have loads of fun as a Silky Girl!. Sadly, as all of us former cheerleaders know, when you're number one, there are a ton of jealous, insecure skanks just doing their lame best to put you down.  Just remember that you rule and you can’t go wrong. It’s all about confidence...self esteem,” she declared emphatically.  “If you’ve got it, flaunt it!”
 
“And we’ve so got it!” chorused the others.
 
I looked at this gaggle. So these were the silkies – the clique that Amanda so disliked.
 
“But no, this isn't the club room. That’s in the Ronaldo bar. We can talk about joining up and that kind of stuff there.  Ohemgee!  You just have to make an appearance there, like soon!”
 
“Heidi just wants you to see the new décor.” Another girl got a word in edgeways.
 
“Like totally! It's awesome!  The raddest soft furnishings, all totes tasteful. It's like cheerleaders paradise...bar, spa, chairs, and a gym too for when you’re feeling all energetic. And I made a banner for the club’s “I Love Me” wall!  Of course, the illustrations come from a Kenzie catalogue.  And ohmygawd, like how realtors say ‘location, location’  Well, the Rodaldo...it’s like right in the strip where there's two stud puppy guys to the square foot!”  She even clapped her hands together.
 
Someone nudged her. She turned and her smile was immediately replaced by a pouting frown.  “Ewww!  Yeah, what a smell!  But it’s not just the odour...or maybe it is.  Like, ohemgee! Look at her shoes! Totally last season!”  She laughed.  “Maybe she hasn’t taken them off.”
 
I looked where shrill voice – Heidi, I guessed – looked, and there was Amanda. In a stage whisper, shrill voice added, “How, like, could you like, get into here?  This is supposed to be just for totally hawt peeps.”
 
Amanda looked at her icily “Are you, like, serious? My horse looks and talks completely better than you.  Your hair is totally betching.  Like, how many birds nested in it?”
 
“Like Amanda Sinclair knows about birds,” one of Heidi’s circle said nastily.  “She comes from the total boondocks!”
 
“I do not!  Like, I’m from Barrington!” Amanda snapped.
 
“Barrington...like, that’s the kind of place where a girl can’t decide if she wants a Jeep or a horse for her 16th birthday,” Heidi giggled.  “Spoiler alert! She’s got a rich daddy so she got both, didn’t you Amanda?  Like, is there any sound but crickets?”
 
Amanda had probably been caught out.  I knew her father and doting daddy probably had bought both for her. The girls around Heidi whispered and giggled.
 
“Those girls,” said Bronwyn, the golfer in the culottes, who had somehow sidled up to where we stood.  “There's going to be trouble soon.”
 
Her friend – Ms Wannabee Preppy Golfer – nodded sagely. “It's not as if they have an excuse, either.  They’re our kind...not like some here.”  She looked sharply at Tina and me.
 
“Quite so, Bea. You expect the riff raff,” she too fixed her eyes on Tina and me, “to get drunk and start fights, but not a lawyer like Heidi.”
 
I wished they hadn’t joined our group. They were obvious snobs who had nothing good to say about anyone.
 
Arthur shook his head. “That’s what happens when these young girls pre load,” he said.  “It happens all the time. They’re half drunk when they arrive. It's a real problem now.”
 
“Yes Arthur, you’re right,” Tina chimed in, not wanting to waste an opportunity to get in Arthur’s good graces.  “It’s a big problem!  It causes fights.  They don’t realise how much they’ve had to drink before they get to a party, so they just start over and drink as much as if they hadn’t drunk at all.”
 
Arthur chuckled.  “Tina, you’re not exactly a stranger to fights yourself.”
 
Tina muttered something.  I looked at her again wonderingly. She locked eyes with me and I met her gaze steadily. She still didn’t faze me but then, I’m Melissa Windeyer and she wasn’t.
 
“Arthur, I can take care of myself when I need to...not that I need to here, of course.” Tina tried to bluster. “No, there’s no competition here. No one sober here would dare to fight me, and no one here is drunk enough to want to fight me...not like that bunch over there. Listen to them.”
 
Tina was right about that.  The conversation between Amanda and the gaggle of girls was hotting up. They were trading heated insults. It was like Arthur said – they’d all drunk far too much before they arrived, Amanda included. Sure enough, after maybe a minute, Amanda took a few paces towards them. She locked eyes with the shrill one. “Heidi...darling...like, you’re totally cute.  Yeah...and totally dumb too. Cute as ya are, you got one totally big mouth. Like, if ya keep on talking, I may have to, like, hogtie you and totally stuff your own panties in that big fat mouth of yours so, like, you can’t make a totes fool of yourself anymore.”
 
Heidi’s voice grew louder and even more shrill. “Ohemgee!  Bring it, you washed-up skank!” She waved her arm and pointed – a little unsteadily – at Amanda.  “Girls can you believe her?” She very nearly shrieked.  “Like, who is she to think she can talk to us like that?” She sneered at Amanda.  “Umm hellooooo? You're old and, like, so washed up like that nasty bleached blonde hair and those fake boobs.”  She wrinkled her nose.  “Ewww!”
 
Amanda stepped – or perhaps stumbled – forward and swung her hand, slapping Heidi hard on the face.
 
Heidi put her hand to her cheek. Her voice dropped several octaves. “Bring it, Amanda Sinclair!  Oh...my...god, girls!  Like, I have been totally waiting for a chance to put this skank where she belongs. Like, she hit me first!”  Her return smack cracked home loudly on Amanda’s cheek, leaving a red blotch.
 
“Heidi you can’t do it here,” cautioned one of her group.  “Like, everyone will see and break it up.”
 
“Kasia, ummm I totally want peeps to see me work this slutty mcskankerson over!  But yeah, you’re right.  Like, we’d get stopped here.”
 
Tina broke away from our group, toward the arguing girls. “You can all go up there behind that hedge.” She pointed.  “It’s thick and tall. No one will see you and its far enough away from the main party that the sound won’t carry much.”
 
They looked where she was pointed.  “Like, you’re a total genius!” said Kasia. “Come on Heids!  Come on, girls!  Let’s watch Heidi totally wipe the floor with this skankoid Amanda.”
 
Heidi waved her arm at us.  “Like, I want you all to come and watch too!”
 
“Smart move Tina,” Arthur praised the brunette as we all walked up the slope.  “We get to watch the fight and no one else interferes.”
 
Tina simpered.  I never thought I’d see an adult do that outside movies, but she did it now. “You’re too kind, Arthur.” She giggled as he kissed her.  Sliding her hand around Arthur’s waist, she looked over his shoulder and gave me a smug look that said it all.  “Suck it, bitch!  You’re frozen out.”  She made my blood boil.  I held my temper but I silently vowed that her time would come.
 
We were hardly concealed behind the hedge when Heidi flew at Amanda.  Her left hand reached for a fistful of Amanda’s hair as her right hand snaked behind Amanda’s back, grabbing her dress. From Amanda’s startled yelp of pain, I guessed that Heidi had grabbed the waistband of Amanda’s panties through her dress and given her a wedgie. Amanda slapped Heidi’s face hard and as Heidi’s head snapped to the side, Amanda seized her foe’s hand, yanking it away from her dress.
 
Heidi shook Amanda’s hair, pushing and pulling my boss’s daughter all over the place.   Amanda belatedly grabbed a handful of Heidi’s hair too, and the two women stumbled across the grass, yanking at each other’s hair and slapping each other’s face.  The two screamed, spat and hissed like alley cats.
 
“Look at them, Bea!  Look at them slither around...they should have kicked off their heels.”  The two bitchy golfers were at it again.
 
“What do you expect from valley girls?” replied Bea. “You and I would know better.”  I glanced at one, then the other.  Did those two fight?
 
They were right though. Neither Amanda nor Heidi had bothered kicking off their heels which sank into the soft grass as both women tried to get traction. Each tried to slap and kick but both were having trouble finding a firm footing in their shoes.
 
Now that the two girls were locked together, Amanda began to hit harder. She held Heidi's hair in one hand and slapped with the other. Heidi tried to do the same but found Amanda was all too often able to yank her off balance or duck so that Heidi's blow sailed past her face.
 
Amanda attacked hard. She was getting the best of it.  She was taller and stronger, and she managed to knee Heidi twice in the belly.  Heidi's white face and shrill shriek told me that she knew Amanda was on the verge of controlling her.  Heidi tried to knee Amanda in return, but my boss's daughter swung around to avoid the attack, dragging Heidi with her. Heidi's knee just kissed Amanda's side. It quickly got worse for Heidi. Before she got her foot back on the ground, Amanda had body slammed her.  She forced the squealing Heidi into the holly hedge behind her.
 
Tina, her arm still tightly around Arthur’s waist, said, “Melissa, didn’t you say you worked with Amanda Sinclair?”  She paused and then said – as if to herself, “Funny that Amanda didn’t recognise you.”
 
I reddened.
 
“Maybe Amanda had other things on her mind then,” Arthur chuckled. “She certainly does now.” His quick glance at me told me he knew Tina’s barb had sunk home but I was gratified at how he had come – subtly – to my defense.
 
Heidi screamed as Amanda shoved her deeper into the sharp hedge. She seemed to crumple as if her legs gave out. “You can't fight me...oooof!!!” Amanda's sneering remark was cut off as Heidi's head smashed into the over-confident girl's gut.  
 
Amanda reeled back as Heidi repeated her head butt. Amanda's hands clutched her stomach.  Her mouth was open, her eyes wide, her breasts and stomach heaving as she sucked air into her battered lungs.  Heidi stood there panting.  Her arms were covered in deep scratches, some of which were already bleeding.  
 
She shook herself, then lunged and buried both her hands in Amanda's hair, shaking her violently. Amanda too slapped hard, scoring stinging blows on Heidi's face. Heidi gasped.  She yanked Amanda towards her, then almost rammed her knee into Amanda's stomach. Amanda just managed to avoid it by turning side on.  The knee struck her side, rocking her. Unstable in her heels on the slippery grass, she faltered.  Heidi seized the chance to yank Amanda toward her again by her hair.  Expecting another knee to the gut, Amanda was astonished when Heidi instead stepped to the side and body slammed her.  She used her grip on Amanda's hair to all but throw her still-gasping enemy into the wall of holly.
 
Amanda got no time to recover. She was still trapped in the hedge when Heidi attacked her with a rain of slaps. Amanda tried to bat them away but Heidi broke through her defences. Her blows rocked Amanda’s head left and right until Amanda put her left hand up to shield her face.
 
Heidi quickly switched her attack to Amanda’s now exposed side, hitting her hard with sharp, quick punches. Amanda edged along the hedge, trying to side-slip away without success.  She winced as the sharp holly inflicted more scratches on her bare flesh, and groaned when she saw Heidi had stepped along in time with her.
 
“Like, you thought you’d get away?” Heidi laughed coldly.  She wrenched at Amanda’s hair again, dragging her back the way she had come.  Then, clapping both hands on the bigger girl’s shoulder she shoved hard, slamming Amanda into the hedge once more.  Amanda wailed in pain. She dropped to a crouch and surged forward, arms outstretched as if to tackle Heidi, but her foe neatly sidestepped the charge and grabbed Amanda – one hand seizing her by the collar, the other by her hair. Heidi jerked Amanda up and drove her knee into the bigger girl’s side.
 
With another wail, Amanda crumpled to the ground as Heidi shoved at her, but Heidi somehow got tangled up and she too went down, falling on top of Amanda. ”Ooh, Heidi!” One of the ‘silkies’ gasped.  The bigger girl's arm snaked around Heidi and the two rolled back and forth on the grass, grabbing at each other's body, pulling hair, slapping, kicking and scratching.
 
The two rolled into a garden bed. Heidi's further progress was blocked painfully when her back fetched up against a rosebush. “Uggghhh!!!” Heidi groaned, Her grasp on Amanda weakened as her enemy tried to restart the roll and force Heidi further into the rosebush. A branch broke, tangling between Heidi's thrashing legs. Amanda seized the opportunity to wriggle free and, scrambling to her feet, shoved her foot into Heidi's belly just under her ribs, driving the air from the smaller blonde's lungs and slamming her body brutally against the thorny rose. Heidi screamed.  She grabbed her foe's foot and jerked it hard. Amanda, her heel sinking into the soft soil, almost fell. She pulled her foot free and scurried away.
 
Heidi got up, slowly. One of of the silkies nudged the girl standing next to her. She giggled. “Oooh, look at Heidi  She’s a mess!”
 
I bit off the comment that leapt to my lips.  “So is the rose bush!”  Though witty as well as true – several branches had snapped off the rose – it didn’t have the dignity that people expect from Melissa Windeyer.
 
Heidi was indeed a mess .  One sleeve of her white blouse, badly torn, hung off her arm. Her whole blouse had been shredded by the rose’s thorns and was dotted red with blood from the cuts that peppered her skin.  The ruined blouse and her cream skirt were stained with mud and grass. She gasped for breath.
 
Amanda was, if anything, in worse shape. Until she got her feet tangled and fell, Heidi had by far the best of the fight. I was surprised that was not more obvious.  Yes, Amanda was puffing, her clothes were in tatters.  Her face, arms and body were a mass of cuts and scratches but she looked ready to fight on.  
 
And fight she did.  With a screech she attacked, her hands outstretched as if to wrestle Heidi’s hair once more. Heidi seemingly remembering how that had been Amanda’s primary success – Amanda had been all over her in the hair pulling – threw her hands up defensively. Amanda, showing more brains than I’d ever guessed she had, ducked and, swinging her arms inwards, drove a double-handed blow into Heidi’s middle.
 
The breath exploded from the smaller girl’s chest as Amanda’s open hands hit hard. Heidi staggered backward, almost into the roses again, but she checked her retreat at the last moment and bent forward. She slapped at Amanda’s face. Amanda batted the slap away. Heidi tried to grab at Amanda’s blouse, but it was so torn that it simply came apart in Heidi’s hands.
 
Amanda capitalised on Heidi’s surprise, slapping her face and then seizing her hair. She rose to her feet, pulling a wailing Heidi with her. Yanking Heidi from side to side, keeping the smaller woman off balance, Amanda seemed to be controlling the fight once more, until Heidi leapt forward and buried her nails in Amanda’s chest. She scraped her fingers down her foe’s breasts and dug deep under Amanda’s bra.  Amanda wailed in pain and let go of Heidi’s hair. She grabbed her foe’s arms and tried to pull them away. For a moment the women seemed to dance in each other’s embrace. Then Amanda lashed out with a kick but Heidi pulled to the side and the kick hit thin air. Heidi charged forward, her head down, striking the taller Amanda square in her cleavage. Amanda screamed and stumbled.  Heidi pushed again and Amanda toppled over.
 
Again Heidi gave her no chance to recover and stomped on her stomach. Amanda squawked in pain, then rolled onto her side. Heidi dropped down to one knee, rolled Amanda further, onto her belly, and caught my boss’s daughter in a camel clutch. Her knee in Amanda’s back, Heidi yanked hard, leaning back until Amanda could stand the pain no more and squealed her surrender.
 
Heidi hopped up to her feet again and kicked her foe hard in the ribs. “You're no match for a silkie, betch!. Like, it was fun putting you in your place.”
 
Her friends flocked around her, twittering their praise and congratulations. She high fived them. “Like, that was totally kewl!  Come on girls, let’s go find some guys to buy us some drinks.”  She glanced down at her ruined outfit.  “But first I need to wash and clean up.” She went off singing a song from some old musical. I dredged my memory and couldn’t quite place it, but I was sure she'd got the words wrong.  “I'm gonna wash that skank right out of my hair, cuz I've sent her on her way.”
 
I went over to where Amanda lay sobbing on the grass. “Come on, get up.  Can you make it to the bathrooms.”
 
She blinked at me through her tears.  “Melissa?  Melissa Windeyer?  What are you doing here?”
 
“Helping you.”
 
“I mean, at the party.”
 
“I got an invitation, just like you did.”
 
“Huh!” Amanda tried to stand. She fell again.
 
“Come on.”  I put my arm round her and helped her up. We walked down the hill.  People gaped but I ignored them and Amanda was in no condition to take any notice.
        
Amanda looked at me. “How did you get an invitation? Who do you know here?”  Her voice was harsh – disdainful.  She annoyed me.  I didn't deserve that.  Here I was, helping her.  She turned and faced me. “Well, Melissa? Let go of me! I can stand by myself!”
 
I let her go. She wobbled and almost fell again.  She grabbed my arm for support.  “I don't think so, Amanda.”
 
“Even if I can't, I'll get one of my friends to help me...not the help.” She let go of me again and stood, still swaying unsteadily, with her hands on her hips. “Who invited you? How did you get that invitation?”
 
A lesser woman would have quailed at her tone – most of the other sales clerks would have, but they aren’t Melissa Windeyer.  I spoke softly but distinctly, making sure Amanda heard every word. “Amanda, don’t take that tone with me.”  I jerked my head over my shoulder, indicating the crowd we’d just left.  “Good luck with finding a friend to help you.  You don’t seem to have too many here.  Nobody else made a move.”  That took the wind out of her sails.  She seemed to sag.
 
“Besides, I'm sure you don't want the girls at work to know you were in a fight. I'm sure you don't want them to know you...lost a fight.  I'm sure you don't want them to see the pictures I have on my phone.” Amanda trembled.  Her face was white.  “Yeah, I didn’t think so.  Now be sensible and let me help you.”
 
Amanda said nothing more as I helped her the rest of the way to the bathroom, cleaned her up and then put her in a cab home.
 
“That was more than kind of you,” Arthur said when I returned to the group, who were still standing up the hill.  He stepped away from the pouting, possessive Tina and said pointedly, “Most people just stood there and watched.” He hugged me, then kissed my cheek.  He was right of course. Most people didn't know how to stand out from the crowd, but then I’m not 'most people'.  I’m Melissa Windeyer. I felt his hand tighten slightly.  I took the hint and relaxed into him. His thumb caressed my side.  He said to the group, “Time to rejoin the party.”
 
We walked down to the club house again.  Arthur’s hand was around my waist now.  I felt Tina’s eyes boring into my back.  I looked over my shoulder and gave her the look she’d given me earlier.  Suck it, bitch.
 
We ended up near the pool. Although it was twilight now, it was still so hot that I wasn't surprised that some guys and girls were splashing round in the pool. Arthur talked about swimming himself. Tina smirked. Now I knew why she'd worn her bikini under her dress. I hadn’t even brought a bathing suit. I'd be out of it. Not even Melissa Windeyer can think of everything.  But I’d still set myself apart from Tina and her kind by helping Amanda.  I’d shown Arthur I was a better person than Tina.
 
Tina knew it too. Her behaviour grew more brazen, bordering on desperate as she did her best to ingratiate herself with everyone, particularly the guys, chatting and flirting shamelessly, pressing a breast against their arm as she talked to them, even rubbing her booty against one then another as she trekked round the group.
 
The girl next to me, who had just come over to join us, stared at Tina hard.  She frowned, then her eyes grew wide as a look of sudden recognition passed across her face.  She had just raised her glass and now she spluttered into her drink.
 
I slapped her back to stop her choking.  “Are you ok?”  
 
The girl nodded, though her cheeks were red and there were tears in her eyes.  “How did she get in here?”
 
I followed her gaze to Tina.  “Her?”
 
“After last year, she was banned!”
 
I had to hold back a smile.  Tina was a gatecrasher.
 
I murmured, loudly enough that I hoped both Arthur and Tina would hear, "That doesn’t surprise me.  Look at her...the slut...flaunting herself in that outfit.” Of course my voice was just loud enough. While the girl next to me giggled, Tina’s head turned toward me. I returned her stare.  Her eyes narrowed with a cold smile that to a guy might say “hi” but I knew it as “You gatecrashing slut, you and me need to fight.” I tilted my head in mute challenge.  My hand moved to my hip and I thrust my leg forward slightly.
 
Tina came over. She spoke to the girl next to me though her words were clearly aimed my way.  “I see the bitch is here...the bitch who pretended to be so nice and helpful.”  Only then did she look at me and point her finger.  “You think you’re better, and better looking, than everyone else.”
 
“No, Tina...just better than you.”  I lowered my voice.  “Why don’t you go flash your boobs on some street corner where you belong?" Then I added more loudly, talking to the girl next to me just as Tina had done, “The class of hooker around here is getting pretty poor...some of them even have to resort to crashing parties and flaunting their saggy tits and fat asses.”
 
The girl giggled again and said." Yeah I know what you mean.  I’ve seen at least two around here already.”  She gave me an odd look.  I felt a momentary discomfort but surely she wasn’t including me in that number.  I might not be the best dressed woman here but I was in a totally different class to Tina, or even to the two golfer women who still lurked nearby, watching and exchanging smiles.  I belonged here, in every sense of the word.
 
I turned back to Tina.  “Oh...you’re still here.  Why don’t you run along?  Your pimp’s probably wondering where you are.”
 
Tina eyeballed me.  “Fuck you, bitch!” she growled.  “I’m staying, and let’s see you do something about it, cxnt.”
 
“Language sweetie...such language!  It’s so sad when you can't think of something clever to say.”  I  put my drink and purse down carefully. I turned to the girl next to me.  “I’m sorry but what does one do here, to get rid of vermin?”
 
Just as I expected, Tina couldn’t contain herself. She grabbed my shoulder. She shoved harder than I thought she would and I buckled. I steadied myself by hanging onto her with my right hand and slapped her hard with my left. She squealed. I slapped her again, then let go and stepped back.  She was still rubbing her face, obviously surprised that I’d fought back, when I leaned in again and slapped her even harder with both hands.
 
Tina squealed again and stumbled back, still holding her face. I couldn’t believe how easy this was. I’d hardly had to exert myself.  She tried to back away. I grabbed at her bikini top, a difficult move as it was half buried under her dress, but the bikini strap gave me far more purchase than the filmy dress did.
 
Tina screamed in fury.  “Oh my God!  Get OFF ME, BITCH!”  She slapped my face hard and my head snapped back.  I’d been too confident.  I shouldn’t have expected such an easy win.  I’d still take her down, of course, but I’d have to spend a little more effort.
 
I heard the golfers bitching again.  “Bea, we were both right. Neither of those sluts has any decorum. Look at them, brawling in public.” I did my best to ignore them, too preoccupied with the fight at hand, but one day they'd feel the wrath of Melissa Windeyer.
 
I let go of Tina’s bikini top again, stepping back to regroup, but then I fouled my heel in the grass at the edge of the concrete surrounding the pool.  I stumbled.
 
“They’re just as brainless as that Amanda and Heidi,” remarked Bea haughtily from behind me.  “They should have learned they need to kick their shoes off.” I ground my teeth momentarily. I'd had no time to get ready to fight.  Tina had been so in my face.
 
“True, Bea...and that Melissa has no excuse.  She was baiting Tina.”
 
“Uh huh.  She wanted the fight.  You'd think she'd have been prepared.”
 
“Too dumb.”
 
I had no time to worry about the golfers.  A cheating Tina seized the opportunity to bend forward and charge at me, spearing her shoulder into my stomach. I groaned as the air rushed out of my lungs. I almost folded over her, grasping her sides to stay upright and not fall on my butt or, worse still, into the pool.
 
“How do you like that, bitch?” Tina sneered. She seized my long silky hair and slapped me hard in the face, repeatedly. I tried and failed to dodge the slaps – she had too tight a grip on my hair. I couldn’t deflect them with my hands either. She just kept hitting me. I knew I had to get out of this trap, and soon. This was not how the fight should be. I tried to bob down but she yanked my hair and dragged me back up for another slap.
 
I clawed at her boobs, burying my hand inside the cup of her bikini top.  She screamed again.  She was a noisy bitch. I kept quiet, saving my breath.  I clawed and twisted at her boobs.  She shrieked even louder, in pain as well as anger now.  She stopped slapping me and tried to pull my hands away. Instead, by pulling on my wrists, she only made her own torment worse as she raked my nails down her boobs. She wailed. I'd outsmarted her yet again.
 
Suddenly, "UNGGGHHH!!!” The breath erupted from my chest.  The slut had hauled off and punched me in the gut. This time my knees did buckle. I thought for a horrible moment that I was going to be sick – me, Melissa Windeyer, in front of all these people. But I was made of stronger stuff.  I wasn't going to disgrace myself. I swallowed hard as I stepped back, clasping my battered stomach.
 
Tina showed how stupid she was. She should have come after me, exploited her advantage.  I’d have done that, but instead she just stood there, rubbing her boobs. Instead of trying to attack me – not that she’d have finished me off of course – she gave me time to recover.
 
A few seconds was all it took – after all, I am Melissa, fit and healthy – I attacked. I didn't feel able to slug it out with my fists so I started slapping. Swinging from my hips, left hand aimed at her right cheek, then swinging back again to slap with my right at her left cheek. She stepped forward, right into my slaps and I blasted her. Repeating my attacks almost at will until she got close enough to try to push me back. She succeeded.  Fighting in heels was hard.
 
Again she stood there gasping and holding her face. Her eyes looked a little glazed.  I closed on her but she held her hands in front of her face.  That protected her but it also kept her from counter-attacking.
 
I seized her hair, yanking hard. “Aaaggghhh!  My hair!  Let go!  Let GO!” she squealed. I knew the fight had gone out of her. I raised my knee and all but buried it in her stomach. She doubled over, clutching her belly. I grabbed her ears and, stepping back a pace, drove her head down onto my up-swinging knee. She screamed, staggered and would have fallen if I hadn’t held onto her.
 
This was how it was meant to be. I was powering into this girl who Arthur had already praised as a fighter.  Her attack was gone and her defence was weak, almost non-existent. I chanced a glance at the guys in the crowd. Most of them were smiling. Maybe Tina wasn't too popular, or maybe they just liked watching me hand it to her. And why not?  I was showing them that I wasn't just sexy and sensuous but strong and powerful too. I knew I’d have to hold back though – this wasn’t the place to show my true power as a Domme.
 
But while most of the guys were smiling, the girl who’d been standing next to me was scowling. “It’s like two whores fighting for the best spot under the street lamp.”
 
I fumed.  How dare she say that about me? I glared at her for a second.
 
Tina used that moment, as I looked around, to try to escape. As she did so, I lunged and grabbed her dress.  It was so flimsy that it tore away in my hand.  She cursed in anger.  I cursed in frustration and flung the torn scrap of sheer fabric away.  Now she only had her bikini to cover her up.
 
I chased her.  She couldn’t dodge well in heels and she squealed as I hit her hard, with closed fists now.  I mixed up my shots, one to the face, one to the gut, then one to the boobs. She had no idea of what to do. I completely outclassed her. I followed her as she tried to back away, hammering her with impunity. I tried not to look too happy.  I didn’t want the guys to think I was a bully.
 
“You started this, Tina,” I reminded her between punches, “And now I'm going to end it!” I grabbed her. She was within a foot or so of the pool. I turned, dragging her with me.  She was still trying to protect herself, without success of course.  She now had her back to the pool. I stepped closer.  She flinched. I aimed a punch at her face. Up came her hands and she batted my punch away but I had been expecting that – it was only a feint.
 
She didn’t see my kick coming and by the time she did, it was too late. The look of horror on her face as my foot sank deep into her soft stomach was so rewarding. Her arms windmilled as she flew backwards and landed with a splash in the pool.  She floundered in the pool, looking like a drowned rat.  One of the swimmers had to grab her and hold her head above water until she could get herself together.  
 
I stepped back, smiling.  Melissa Windeyer had triumphed once again. Now it was time to show I was considerate – magnanimous in victory. I knelt by the poolside and reached out to take Tina's hand. “Come on up,” I said, though she ignored me.  
 
The girl who’d been next to me was still scowling.  “Phoney! Look at her, faking compassion.  What do you expect from two cheap whores? How did they get in?”
 
“Now that’s a bit unfair,” chuckled some man.  “Cheap?  They were free entertainment.”
 
“Unfair indeed,” said Arthur as he crouched beside me.  “You were more than entertaining.”  He slipped his hand around my side.  “Don’t worry about her.  She’s just jealous.”  He drew me to my feet and kissed me. “You’re one feisty fighter, Melissa.”  He glanced down at the pool.  “Don’t worry about Tina either.”
 
My defeated foe had swum to the other end of the pool and hauled herself out. She stood breathing heavily as some guy with a toothbrush moustache helped dry her face and hair. “She’s ok with Doug Haig over there. I’ll get you a drink. Do you need any first aid?”
 
“I’ve got some cuts and bruises...not as much as Tina has, but yes if there’s a medicine chest here, I could do with some help.” I needed to underline that I’d won the fight. And I needed to get away from these harpies who had the gall to try to shred my character. “Will you show me?”
 
“I’d be delighted. More than that, I’ll help administer it.” He led me away from the crowd and into the main club house, all the while praising my fighting skills, my determination and saying how sexy I’d looked when I was fighting. I smiled, leaned on his arm a little more heavily than I needed to, and basked in his compliments.  They were no more than my due.
 
He took me first to the bar. “You’ll need a reviving drink and, because you shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach, some food too.”  He made me sit down at a quiet table. I told him I didn’t feel like eating but he told me not to be silly and, leaning close to me, fed me with his fingers while continuing to tell me how much he’d admired me fighting, not to mention my compassion for both Tina and Amanda.
 
After I’d eaten as much as I could stomach, he took me to the sick bay and closed the door behind him. “Now, let’s have a look at those scratches.” Praising me continually and ‘oohing’ over the wounds he started applying salves to my face, my legs and my lower arms. It felt good, just sitting on the couch with him being so attentive. “You’d better take your blazer off, she got your arms too,” Arthur reached and helped me slide my jacket off.  He whistled. I looked up enquiringly.  He was staring at me openly.  “I’m just admiring your body my dear.  Has anyone told you you’re like Jane Russell?  Full figured, voluptuous...”  He stopped.  “Have I gone too far?”  He smiled, clearly unabashed.
 
“No, silly man,” I blushed.  “You’re...quite ok.”
 
Once again he knelt and rubbed cream into my arms.  Once again it felt good.  His touch was cool and soothing, his words of admiration just what I needed to hear.
 
“Would I be going too far if I asked whether your stomach was sore, where Tina hit you?  Could I ask you to take off your top, so I can salve it too?” I smiled at him, holding his gaze, but made no reply and no movement – but I didn’t tell him no, either.
 
He waited a few seconds, then he stood up and gently drew my top off over my head.  I raised my arms to help him and, when he’d pulled it free of my hands, I draped my arms around his neck and drew him down into a kiss.  He knelt again and I arched into him, rubbing my breasts, cradled in my lacy bra, against his chest.
 
Without breaking the kiss, he reached behind me and undid my bra, then brought his hands around to slide it away, cupping and gently squeezing my breasts.  His mouth on mine and his hands on my breasts gently pressed me down; I swung my legs up onto the sick bay cot to lie down. Within a few moments more he’d eased my skirt up, my panties down and I spread my legs for him.
 
He took my invitation there and then – and again later in his apartment where I stayed until the next morning, alternately making love and dozing before he brought me brunch and we parted with a kiss.
 
We’d made love often – but not always – since then.  Like all men, Arthur needed to learn, and to be constantly reminded, that my favours were a privilege and not his right.  I was Melissa Windeyer, not some cheap slut like Tina.  I was not to be taken for granted, and I was not to be toyed with.  He – and that skinny slut Lisa – were about to learn that.
 


My great thanks to my friends who helped make this a better story In particular the lovely Tinafights, the model for Melissa's enemy Tina

[SunnyB]

mmm, love your Melissa character! 

[Kayla]

Great stuff, Jenn! Your Melissa character is a real gem - an awesome pleasure to read about her adventures, and misadventures! LOL! 

Hugs
Kayla

[peccavi]

center]Escape[/center]
I sat in the corner at the Starbucks café, dividing my morose stares between nearly empty coffee mug and my completely empty plate.  I was trying to find a bright side to my current situation.  It wasn’t working.
 
Lisa needed punishment for what she and Arthur had done to me.  It was her fault of course, not Arthur’s. Lisa had manipulated him, just like she had manipulated me.  Ms Justeen was right – well, partly.  Lisa had played me.  Lisa, a subbie who I’d beaten in a fight, broken in public and slutted in front of a crowd, had played me – me!  Melissa Windeyer!  That was what made me angriest of all.  It wasn’t what she’d done to me – though that was bad enough in itself – but the blatant arrogance of it.  Didn’t she know who I was? How dare she!  My hand literally shook with anger as I lifted my cup to take the last sip of my coffee.
 
It was time for payback – time to show that devious little slut that nobody messes with Melissa Windeyer.  That was what I needed to be thinking about – how I could I put that bitch back in her place – under my thumb and at my beck and call, like she had been when I first introduced her to Arthur, before that night went horribly wrong and I fought and lost to Lauren?
 
I glanced at my watch.  It may have been time for payback but it was also time for me to go home. I didn’t want to risk the CTA alone, late at night.  There should have been someone to drive me home – I deserved to have men eager to escort me – but there wasn’t.  At the very least, I deserved to drive a decent car, but I didn’t – only a 15 year-old Celica convertible in desperate need of repairs, and which I didn’t trust to take me to work – not that I could have afforded the parking fees near the office.
 
That whole week had been horrid.  No one respected me at work – me, Melissa Windeyer, who was such a good employee that I’d been promoted over all the sales clerks.  That was no more than I deserved though – none of them had the cachet that I had – the sense of style that enabled me to engage with our richer, more sophisticated clients so successfully.  After all, they recognised me as one of them.  They appreciated me, even if the rest of the staff didn’t.
 
It hadn’t been just work, though.  There was such twittering everywhere I went.  When I called into Ronaldo for a drink on Tuesday night and Galeforce for a coffee on Wednesday, people looked at me sideways, whispered about me to their companions.  No one spoke to me.  Everyone shunned me.  Nobody treated me the way I deserved to be treated.  Melissa Windeyer had become a pariah, a social leper.  What had I done to deserve that?  They were jealous and spiteful, and I didn’t want to be around them.  They didn’t deserve my company – but to go home and face an empty room or talk to my parents was worse. Melissa Windeyer deserved better than to live with her parents, in a shabby bungalow with worn furniture, and to battle to work on the CTA every day.
 
Thursday was even worse. I dragged myself off to Ronaldo again after work. As soon as I arrived, there was Heidi Foster and her sxxxxxxxing silkie friends. “Hello Melissa.  Are you ok?” Heidi’s sneering tone told me that she wasn’t making a polite inquiry.  She was making the point that I wasn’t ok, not just to me but to her friends too.  The petty, disloyal little nothing had forgotten how I’d taken care of her and protected her when that bitch Robbyn had gone after her.
 
The memory of that made me pause to smile at my cleverness.  Heidi had really had nothing to fear from Robbyn.  If Heidi was nothing, then Robyn was – well, less than nothing.  Robbyn was trash.  No one liked her but she was full of her own self-importance. Always striving to make herself look good, always pretending to be better than she really was. She was a perfect subject on which to exert myself, to show my power as a leading Domme.  That was why I'd picked a fight with her. Heidi had simply given me a reason to appear gracious and benevolent while doing so.  She and Robbyn were both just pawns in my game.
 
Heidi had quickly forgotten the favor I’d done for her, of course.  That was typical of her and her kind.  Nor did she remember how, only a few months ago when she’d been stupid enough to pick on Holly, my own sub – but again, what did one expect from a bubble head like Heidi? – I’d fought and soundly beaten her, and left her to Holly to play with. No, the airhead had forgotten all that.
 
A lesser woman would have given her a tongue-lashing and reminded her of all of that.  But I’m Melissa Windeyer.  I’m above that.  So I just smiled and replied, “Yes Heidi, thank you very much.”
 
“Oh that’s cool!  Like...I heard a whisper...you got into a fight on Friday.”  She gave a distinct upward inflection at the end of her sentence, almost turning it into a question.  “The whisper is you got trashed,” she giggled, “but then it was cuz you were, like, totally trashy that you got into a fight. Like the rumour is you were – “ she paused and grinned “ – attracting attention.” She looked me directly in the eye.  “Totes noisy!”
 
The other silkies laughed.  I tried not to bristle, but couldn’t help myself when one of them sneered, “Heidi means you were baying like a bitch in heat!”
 
Heidi rounded on her.  “No I don’t!  Don’t run Melissa down like that.”  She turned back to me but kept talking to her companion.  “There’s no ‘like’ about it. She was a bitch in heat!”  Her eyes twinkled with vindictive enjoyment.
 
My eyes narrowed and I hissed, “You be careful Heidi.  I’ve put you out with the trash before...and I’ll do it again.” I tried to put on a brave front, but I knew that even I would have a hard time backing up those words right now.  I was still sore.  The cuts and scratches I’d suffered at Lauren’s hands hadn’t quite healed and I still felt the bruises she’d given me.
 
That was just the physical side.  Worse than the bruises to my body was the damage to my ego.  My edge, the mental element that made everyone look up to me – and so they should since, after all, I’m Melissa Windeyer! – had taken a serious dent.  I’d always gotten by with the mantra ‘to look confident is to be confident’ but it wasn’t working all that well lately – and it showed.  People could see I’d lost my self-confidence – people like these chirping silkies who dared to laugh at me to my face.

I’d have trouble dealing with anyone – even Heidi.
 
In my mind, I kept hearing Lauren’s bitingly cruel slur. “Melissa Windeyer....a cheap slut who takes it under the table!"   Every time I heard those words, I dredged up from its dungeon within my mind, the memory – the sensation, the white hot lust – of how close I’d been to surrendering to Lauren, just as completely as I’d surrendered to Brooke and Jimmy, and before that to Colleen.
 
“No, don’t go there, girlfriend!” I scolded myself silently, using one of the stock Valley-speak phrases that Heidi would know.  I didn’t need to remind myself of the aftermath of my battle with Robbyn, of the way Colleen had so unfairly tricked and humiliated me.  Nor did I need to remind myself what had happened later on the night I’d beaten Heidi herself – how Jimmy and Brooke played me for a sucker, gotten me so hot that I’d welcomed being used by the entire crowd, as though I was some common slut. I tried to force those horrible memories back into their dungeon.
 
“Like, I'm so scared, Melissa,” Heidi shot back with a scornful roll of her eyes. That was ages ago, before you showed everyone...and I mean everyone your inner slut. You’re a has-been, Melissa!  Your time is over.”  She turned to her companions.  “Girls, like...why am I even talking to this wasted slut?  There are things to do, guys to buy drinks for us!“
 
I almost cried as she flounced off.  No one treated me – Melissa Windeyer! – like that. But Heidi and her insignificant rich bitches just had. I knew I should have had the cars, the dresses, the lifestyle they had. I deserved it. But they had it and I didn't.
 
I slunk out of the bar. I was sure I heard people laughing and jeering at me as I left.
 
It was a long way home on the Metra to Matteson. When I finally I got home, my mother reminded me why I stayed out so often.  From the minute I walked in the done, she harped on – as she’d done every night since I’d gotten home on Saturday morning – about my attitude, my morals, how I got into fights. I’d heard it all before.  She was always into me because I disgraced her before her neighbours, coming home with my clothes torn and my body bruised after a fight, or being driven home by “yet another man” or simply coming home “after being out all night.” It was the same old, tired procession of accusations.  I was a grown woman, not a teenager to be scolded, and it wasn’t as if I didn’t help out around the house either.  I did my chores.  I wished I had enough courage to tell her to mind her own business and walk out. But where would I live if I did?  Between my board and my share of the bills, plus paying for clothes, parties, repairs to my car and saving a little for a new one, there was precious little left of my pay check. 
 
I deserved better.  I deserved money, clothes, status, a nice car and above all, for people to treat me right.  I deserved the respect of my work colleagues, the adoration of my friends and the envy of everyone else. I should be living somewhere far removed from drab, dirty, down-at-heel Matteson, a town on its way down. I deserved a swish inner-city apartment or a renovated brownstone, not a tiny bedroom in – to give my parents credit – a neatly kept walk up in a blue collar, mixed-race suburb.
 
I knew too, however, that it was up to me to change things for myself.  On the way home I reminded myself just how much I had already achieved. I had changed my life. I started counting the changes since I’d met Arthur – a better job with more pay and my emergence as a true Domme on the Chicago D/s scene.  I'd been, and I still was, worshipped as a Goddess by many people.   Still, whenever I thought about those advances, the negatives came flooding into my mind too – the memories of my defeats. I found myself fingering my collar for reassurance. A sudden need flooded over me, to call Ms Justeen and tell her all my fears and doubts.  I’d be comforted, cared for.
 
I rejected that thought. Melissa Windeyer didn’t need reassurance! Did I? I was so conflicted.
 
Things didn't get any better on Friday either. My mother was so in my face from the moment I got up in the morning.  I couldn’t wait to get out of the house, but first the bus then Metra was awful.  I was jostled and prodded all the way to my stop. It was cold and there was a lot of slush around so I was damp and chilled by the time I got to work. Work was at last half decent that day.  People talked to me, even asked me for advice and one or two even deferred to me over matters of style and taste. I made some good sales. That was how it ought to be – almost.
 
My mother's hurtful comments lingered in my mind, to say nothing of my father's silence. He only had to look at me with his eyebrows raised and a sad expression on his face, to make me feel I'd let him down.  That scared me – yes, scared me, Melissa Windeyer.  I didn't want to have an argument that would leave me battling to hold back tears. Me, Melissa, being upset by my parents – it just wasn’t right.  I wanted them to be proud of me – and they would have been, if I had even some of the status, the money, the glamour and the lifestyle that I deserved.
 
So I didn't want to go home. It was Friday. I hated being home alone on Friday nights. I'd asked some of the girls at work if they wanted to see a movie. No one was interested. They should have been honoured by my invitation – secretly, they probably were – but they all had excuses.  They had families or steady boyfriends, or it was wet and cold and they just wanted to get home. All of those excuses were true, of course, and just for a moment I wondered about their sort of life.  Would a dull suburban existence, struggling slightly to pay off a mortgage – just the kind of life my parents had – be somehow better than the endless striving so hard to be part of the A list?  I wondered – but only for a moment.  I was Melissa Windeyer, and I deserved to have the A-list lifestyle. I shrugged my shoulders and went to the gym for a quick work out before changing for an evening out.
 
I needed cheering up.  I needed some support. No, that was not true. I was Melissa Windeyer;I deserved to be worshipped. I called Holly and told her to meet me at GaleForce. I knew she’d turn up.  No matter what had happened in the last few weeks, I still owned her.  Holly’s public adoration and worship in the bar, would demonstrate to everyone that I was still Ms Melissa Windeyer, despite the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune – where had I heard that?  I’d had some bad luck, that was all, and some scheming, petty people, jealous of my success or just anxious to use me as a stepping stone for their own pathetic attempts to rise above the pack, had piled on.  They wouldn’t succeed but they’d keep trying until I showed the world, once again, what happened to those who messed with Ms Melissa Windeyer.
 
I got to GaleForce before Holly.  She texted me, apologizing that she’d been held up by some of her students. I wasn’t upset by that, it was clearly a good reason and even one to boast about. Only a Domme as powerful and as seductive as Melissa Windeyer could capture a university professor.
 
Without Holly there to welcome me however, and with Lisa and the other subs blatantly ignoring me, my grand entry to GaleForce didn't have the effect I was hoping for.  No one greeted me.  No one offered to take my coat or to bring me a chair.  I was still, it seemed, out of favour.  Nevertheless, I told myself to ignore their slights.  To appear confident is to be confident.  Things wouldn’t be ignoring me for long.
 
I slipped off my topcoat – heavy and warm – and slung it over my arm.  Underneath, I wore a scarlet blazer and a matching skirt, bought off the rack but which fitted so well that everyone was sure to think they were tailored.  I wore Cuban heeled calf boots – a concession to the slick sidewalks – which shone almost as much as my hair did when caught the light, and a filmy but form-fitting cream blouse with just enough sheerness to hint at my thin lacy bra beneath.  I smiled to myself.  I looked good.  I would turn heads – but that was to be expected.  I was Melissa Windeyer.
 
The room was considerably warmer than outside but someone entering behind me admitted a blast of cold air.  My nipples hardened just from the cold.  I heard a low whistle of appreciation and a stifled chuckle. “A young woman's nipples are like a young guy's cock. You can't keep them down.”
 
I smiled inwardly, without turning to look at the speaker – a man.  Once again I'd made my mark.  I sauntered slowly to the bar, to maximise the effect.  Be calm, be cool, be confident, I told myself.  Appearance was reality.  If I appeared self-assured, everyone would believe that everything was normal and that I was, as always, the Melissa Windeyer, the Queen, the prime Domme.
 
It worked.  Heads turned, people gave me long looks, and not the kind I’d seen over the past several weeks. I heard whispers. People were clearly impressed at how I'd bounced back.  Soon they’d accept the truth, that the rumours were just rumours and no more, based on nothing but half-truths, exaggerations and blatant lies. Yes, Melissa Windeyer was back.
 
I hadn’t yet reached the bar when I saw Angela Peccavi. From time to time, I'd pointed out her and her cousin Jenn Peccavi to younger girls in the scene, as role models. I knew better than to hold myself up as an example; why give them a standard impossible to reach?  Few women could tick all the boxes that I did.  I had all that it takes to better myself – I was sensuous, sophisticated and elegantly dressed – and I had the wit and intelligence to do it on a low budget.  Anyone would have to be very special to match me.  The Peccavi cousins didn't of course.
 
Still, the Peccavis were admirable in their own way.  Both had improved their lot in life – Jenn Peccavi had risen to be a supervisor in the factory where she worked, and she was studying for a management certificate at some junior college.  Angela had already completed her junior college diploma and was then – late 2005 –training part-time to be a radiologist.
 
Both were nto the D/s scene. Jenn had a bevy of loyal subbies. She worked hard at it.  After all, with the sexuality of a sack of potatoes, she had to.  So she was always helping them, fighting their battles for them, caring for them.  Sometimes she seemed more of a mother figure or a big sister than a Domme, but wherever she went – Chatro or Ronaldo – she always had a fluffball squirming on her lap and another at her feet.
 
Angela was much better looking than her cousin.  Some less observant people had even compared her, not unfavourably, with me.  I’m sure she was flattered by the comparison of course, and I could see why, at first glance, someone might consider Angela to be almost on a par with me. Like me she had a feminine figure but where I was sensuously curvaceous, she was a little plump, even on the heavy side. Like me she had long dark hair but it didn’t seem to shine in the light like mine.  That could simply have been a poor choice of conditioner, of course – not everyone knew quality the way I did.  She was always well groomed too, but guys and girls knew that it was a façade, carefully and laboriously built up.  She just couldn't manage to carry off the nonchalant elegance that I achieved with clothes, hair and makeup.  Anyone who understood such things could see how easily I outclassed her.
 
Angela wasn't as active in the scene as her cousin.  She had always been more on the fringes.  Still, she’d made a few conquests as a Domme and had attracted some of her cousin’s reputation as someone to watch carefully, and not someone to cross lightly.
 
So my jaw dropped when I saw Angela kneeling on the floor, hands on her splayed thighs, with a choke collar around her neck, attached to one end of a gleaming silver chain leash.  The other end of the leash rested on Cassandra van Straten's lap.
 
There wasn't anything about Cassandra that stood out. Most people would pass her by in the street without a second look. Unlike me, I don't think she got wolf whistles, appraising glances from men or jealous stares from their girlfriends. Van Stratten was bland. She was about my height- which is average for women – but she never made the effort to stand out from the crowd with high heels or platform shoes as I did. Her mid-length hair was a mousey brown and cut conservatively like any businesswoman.  She didn’t style it in any special way. Nor was her dress ever particularly stylish. She wore the same sort of clothes many young women wore. Quality no doubt, but nothing that stood out – that night she wore jeans and a light coloured sweater.
 
I still didn'tfully understand why such an average-looking person could be such a powerful Domme. I suppose it had to be something to do with her personality, but I didn't know her well enough to be sure.  Maybe I could ask Angela later on, if I could get her alone.
 
Legs crossed at the knee, Cassandra kicked off a shoe and extended her foot toward Angela, who bent forward dutifully, raising her butt in the air.  She was wearing a short skirt and it rode up as she leaned far over.  I could see – and so could everyone else in the place – that she wasn’t wearing panties.  She started licking Cassandra's toes, swirling her tongue round each in turn.
 
I stood transfixed, midway between the cloakroom and the bar, eyes wide as I watched the once strong Domme – not near my standard of course but formidable nonetheless and a tough fighter to boot, brought down so far.  It was a horrifying sight and made even more so by the fact that it reminded me how far I too had fallen – not near as low as Angela of course, but enough to acknowledge that I was owned.
 
My hand strayed unconsciously to my necklace – my collar.  I fingered it nervously.  I wished Ms Justeen was here.  She would help me.  Then I shook head.  No, this kind of thinking would never do.  I was Melissa Windeyer!  I did not need a Mistress to help me.  I shook my head again, tossing my hair it shone under the lights.  I thought of icebergs to compose myself – cold, vast, white.
 
Outwardly ignoring Angela, Cassandra kept talking to the circle of friends at her table. I didn’t recognise many of them – after all, I only went to GaleForce occasionally – but there was JenMarie Anderson.
 
I'd seen JenMarie around a bit. She always looked athletic. It was a pose.  She was so fixated on creating an athletic impression that she sometimes came to the bars in tennis clothes, hours after she'd finished playing and showered.  So obsessed was she with her image that she would even arrive at the bar in gym gear, though it would be clean and fresh, certainly not what she’d worn to workout in.  She was always out to impress with her slim body, pert breasts and short brown hair which she wore pulled back from her face.  Tonight, despite the cold weather, she was dressed in a short black tennis skirt, a white t-shirt and a blue-and-white wind-breaker jacket.
 
When Angela finished one foot, Cassandra uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, raising the other.  Angela proceeded to lick that too, just as thoroughly as the first. Cassandra talked on for a few more moments. Then she stood up, handed the leash to JenMarie and said, “Make sure she behaves herself.” She slipped her shoes back on, slapped Angela's bare ass hard enough to make the brunette yelp, and walked out.
 
I glanced furtively about as I reached the bar.  No one offered to get me a drink or a coffee.  Nobody was even looking in my direction.  I might as well have been invisible.  All eyes were on JenMarie as she began playing with Angela. Pulling Angela upward by the hair and setting her back on her heels, she reached inside the kneeling girl's half-open blouse, cupped and squeezed a breast.
 
The girl next to me must have noticed my amazement. “Ms Cassandra captured Angie a few weeks ago,” she said unbidden.  “It just happened.  One night Angie was like she usually is...err...was...a strong Domme, and the next thing we knew, she was on her knees at Cassandra’s feet.  Since then, it’s only gotten worse for Angie.” The girl giggled. “I remember she was like her cousin Jenn...hated to have her name messed with.  She was always ‘Angela’. Thing of the past now! Now she's Cassandra's slave and Cass lets her friends play with her...well you can see that.  Angie’s just a toy...a totally broken Domme if she ever was one.”
 
I struggled to mask my revulsion and what would have been fear – if I weren’t Melissa Windeyer – at the sight of another Domme brought so low.  For a moment I imagined how I might feel if I were in Angela’s position, publicly kneeling to Ms Justeen.  How would I feel if Justeen casually gave me to someone else, with no more thought than if she was passing a spoon across the table?  It didn’t bear thinking about. But then, Ms Justeen would never do that to me.
 
Would she?
 
I needed to compose myself. I moved away from the bar and sat at a vacant table in a corner. Where was my audience?  Where were the adoring subbies hanging on my every word, blushing when I deigned to notice them, all but creaming their panties when I praised them?  Where were those who would give me my due as a powerful Domme?  In the past, they’d flocked around me – girls like Clara who had shivered when Ms Justeen described me fighting, girls like Patti who'd been delighted to sit on the floor at my feet.
 
That was the adulation I deserved – the attention I needed to banish the negative thoughts that flooded my mind whenever I looked – and I couldn’t help looking – at Angela. Here was a girl who I'd enjoyed taking to, who I’d condescended to treat as an equal, who I’d recognised as another Domme, now reduced to a lowly slave, publicly humiliated and passed around like she was nothing.
 
If that could happen to her, it could happen to anyone.  It could happen to me. I too had been flipped, tricked and – for a while at least – broken.  Again I found myself touching my collar and lowered my hand before anyone could notice.  Who was I kidding?  Ms Justeen owned me. But I was still Melissa Windeyer.  No one – not even Ms Justeen – would dare treat me like Angela was being treated.
 
Would she?
 
My stomach suddenly churned. What if she could?  What if she did?  Would she publicly reduce me to the slut she had told me I was? I trembled, remembering how she’d held a mirror up to me, a mirror in which I saw how Colleen had flipped me, how Jimmy and Brooke had played with me and – I gritted my teeth again at the memory – how Lisa and Arthur had used me as their sex slave.  There was a sudden rush of heat deep in my belly and I involuntarily clamped my knees together.  A horrid thought dawned on me.  In some way, some terrible way that was totally and utterly not Melissa Windeyer, I’d enjoyed it.  No, that wasn’t right – no one would enjoy that – but at the time, in the moment, I’d needed that humiliation.  It was as though I had an alter ego – and that alter ego craved public disgrace.  I shuddered.
 
My stomach quivered as the heat refused to abate.  I felt that horrid lust within me, the need to be used.  I thought again of icebergs – with difficulty this time but I would not disgrace myself and stoop to that.  Not at GaleForce.  Not in public. Not again.
 
I needed these subbie girls to chat to me, to distract me with their trivial gossip, to adore me and remind me of who I really was.  I had to have an audience to show my strength, my power, to feed the things that made me Ms Melissa Windeyer.
 
I looked around in search of someone who was looking back at me.  There was no one.
 
I did my best but I couldn't control myself.  I couldn’t help but turn my eyes back to the tableau before me, particularly as it had now moved to another level.  JenMarie had said something – I hadn’t heard what – but it had provoked a scuffle.  JenMarie was looking from Angela to another slave, a redhead whom I knew only as Yuma, with a look of ‘who's the better slut between you two?’ on her face.
 
Angela was on her feet now.  JenMarie had unbuttoned Angela’s blouse all the way to the waist and bared her breasts to the crowd, their big brown nipples puckered and hard.  They bounced back and forth as Angela strained at her leash, hissing defiance at the other woman.
 
The redhead was shorter and slimmer than Angela, in a tight bottle-green sweater that hugged her trim figure and black ski pants that appeared painted on.  She too was on a leash but she had hooked the handle end of hers up to the back of her collar, so it was out of her way and she was unencumbered.  JenMarie still held onto Angela’s leash, though she was struggling to hold her captive back.
 
I found I'd unconsciously stood up and walked toward the unfolding scene. I drove my finger nails into my palms, willing Angela to be cautious, to remember that her leash might handicap her. I must have muttered something aloud, for the woman next to me said, “She's too far gone for that.  You know how hot tempered and impetuous the Peccavis are.” I knew that voice even before I glanced sideways at her.  It was Taylor, the woman almost everyone called 'Ms T'. I shivered again. The mysterious Ms T – yes, even I, Melissa Windeyer, called her that – made even the strongest Dommes shiver.  They said even Jenn Peccavi was frightened of her. I wondered how Ms Justeen felt about her.  Would she stare down Ms T?  Once again I fingered my collar nervously.
 
“Still, they’re not as rash...or as wanton... as some women I could name.” Taylor looked at me hard. “Some women just can’t help themselves...all too ready to give in to their desires.”  Again I shivered.  My stomach churned and I felt that awful lust.  It was like that writing on the wall, that I'd heard about in Sunday school.  You have been weighed in the balance and found wanting.  Again I fingered my collar.  I wanted – needed – Ms Justeen’s reassurance.  But Ms Justeen wasn’t there.  I was glad I didn't need to reply.  I didn’t trust my own voice not to tremble.
 
The scene before us had changed again. Angela had stepped forward a couple of paces, literally dragging JenMarie with her.  The chain quivered, stretched tight from JenMarie's hand to Angela’s neck.  Angela was close enough now to start slapping at the redhead. They were powerful, strong slaps, delivered by swinging from the hips. Her blows hit hard and the redhead had no defense.  She tried deflecting but Angela just powered into her.  By changing her direction slightly, she landed slaps on the redhead’s neck or boobs.  Not one blow missed. In less than twenty seconds, Angela had the redhead reeling. “Look at her,” I murmured to Taylor, trying to steer the conversation in a favourable direction by pointing out Angela’s success. “Nothing rash or impetuous there...just controlled, fiery blows.”
 
The redhead seemed to stumble.  She ducked under a blow. Unfazed, Angela bent down to swing at her foe again. Yuma was ready however and dived for Angela's ankle, toppling the brunette back.  Ms T snorted.  “Rash and impetuous, I’d say.  She’s not thinking ahead.“  She shook her head. “Red had a game plan. Angela didn't. In one move, Yuma went from being slapped silly to having her enemy on her butt. Brain power always wins.” Ms T looked close at me. “As they say...fools rush in.”
 
Yuma closed in. Angela rolled sideways, swinging her legs up and out as if to scissor the redhead. She didn’t succeed but she stopped Yuma from getting too close. Instead, Yuma tried to kick the other woman but again Angela rolled and Yuma’s kick was wasted on Angela’s butt.
 
Angela got to her knees and was rising to her feet when she suddenly gagged and spluttered. I looked behind her.  Her leash was fully stretched out again.  I looked at her collar. It had been lower on her neck before but now it had risen up and the choker, as its name suggested, was choking Angela. Her eyes wide, Angela turned and shuffled on her knees toward JenMarie, her fingers scrabbling at her throat, desperate to slacken the tension on the leash and loosen the collar.
 
Yuma kicked out.  Her foot hit Angela twice.  The first blow sank deep into Angela’s side, under her ribs.  Angela let out a strangled groan but she crouched further forward and swung her arm up, deflecting the second kick so it hit her back, saving her from further and perhaps worse injury.
 
Again Angela moved.  Yuma had circled partway around her so as Angela drew closer to JenMarie and slackened the leash, she closed with Yuma too.  Angela lashed out, firing a punch from her knees.  It did no damage but drove Yuma back.
 
Angela got to her feet.  She stood trading blows – punches now, not slaps like she'd dealt out before. For perhaps thirty seconds she had the advantage as, steady on her feet, she launched punch after punch. Yuma managed to avoid most of them, but those that hit home cost the redhead dearly. Angela's first breakthrough, apart from some sparring blows, was to Yuma's flank. The smaller girl grunted with pain, then again as Angela sent a flurry of lighter, stabbing punches which worked her enemy's abs. A gasping, groaning, Yuma backed up as Angela followed, firing hard.
 
That was when Yuma rallied. Despite Angela’s rapid, pecking attacks that hammered her repeatedly, she slipped forward and, getting within Angela’s reach, she snapped off a crisp left-right combo.  Her left fist hit Angela’s cheek and the right connected just above her enemy’s eye. Angela’s head whipped up and back, her mouth opened in a deep groan of pain. Blood immediately began to dribble from a cut above her eye.
 
Forced to take a step backwards, Angela shifted gears, focusing on protecting herself.  Yuma scored with a couple of jabs to Angela’s sides which drew gasps and edged her larger foe back but then Angela’s defensive tactics began to bear fruit.  She regrouped, focused and brought her arms up to successfully deflect Yuma’s blows.
 
Yuma seemed to realise that Angela had again got her measure. She backed off and circled, sending sparring punches to test Angela's defenses. A couple of tense seconds passed.  Standing her ground, turning rather than moving, Angela tracked Yuma’s steps. She blocked Yuma’s high jab and drove her own fist into Yuma’s gut. Yuma moaned in pain, the force of the battering ram of a blow staggered her back a few paces.
 
I wanted to cheer Angela on. I hoped she'd win, if only because it would show up Taylor and knock some of her gloss off. I contented myself with saying, “I think Angela does have a plan...keep slugging till the other girl drops.  Just like Smoking Joe Frazier used to say, “Kill the body and the head will die.”
 
Angela followed up her advantage, punishing the redhead with hard, swift jabs, until Yuma found her feet again and defended, deflecting or dodging Angela’s next barrage of blows.  Angela still broke through a few times however, each time eliciting a groan as her heavy blow punished her foe.
 
Taylor sounded like a guest commentator on a sports channel as she replied smugly, “Angela needs a quick victory.  She needs to break Yuma here and now...accent on the ‘now’...because that collar and leash stops her moving.”
 
I didn’t reply.  She annoyed me with her so superior ways.  Why did she see herself as better than everyone else?  Why did people kowtow to her?  Why did she have the success that I deserved?
 
“Go for it!  Take it to her!” I encouraged Angela as she hit Yuma hard in the stomach. Yuma seemed to fold forward before getting back up to her stance again.  Her face was tight with pain.  Angela hit hard.
 
“How well do you know Angela?” Taylor asked me.
 
“Not well,“ I replied, my eyes intent on the fight.
 
“I didn't think so,” Taylor said, even more smugly. “So why do you so want her to win?”
 
I couldn't answer that.  I didn’t know why I so wanted Angela – a girl I hardly knew – to win.  Perhaps I felt like I had something in common with her.  She’d been a strong, sexy, full figured brunette Domme, just like I was.  And what was Yuma?  Nothing but a slave – a non-entity.  I sympathised with Angela’s plight, how far she’d fallen. I’d been close to that – yes, Melissa Windeyer had been brought low too. But Melissa Windeyer had recovered – Angela could too.  I’d go and talk to Angela after what I knew now would be her victory – she had Yuma retreating.  I’d share my tips on how to rebuild oneself. After all, not only would I have Angela’s thanks – and another devoted follower – but she’d help cure my loneliness until Holly arrived. Of course, I couldn't tell any of that to Taylor. I just shrugged.
 
Yuma was defending better now.  She’d been defending well before and not one in three shots hit home but now she was even better.  She blocked, she parried, she moved around, constantly avoiding Angela’s attacks.  Frustrated by her enemy’s fierce defense, Angela lunged forward, aiming a blow for Yuma's head.
 
As Yuma bobbed down however, it was Angela’s own head that suddenly snapped back as she literally reached the end of her tether.  The leash was so taut it was cutting into Angela’s throat again.  Her fist passed over Yuma’s head and the redhead powered her fist hard into Angela’s side.  Angela let out a gurgling cry of anguish and frustration.  Taking full advantage of her foe’s predicament, Yuma rose into a crouching dash that sent her fists flying into Angela’s midriff. Angela groaned.  Spit and air rushed from her mouth, telling all that the blow had knocked a lot of air from her lungs.  With the choke collar cutting off her breathing, that was air that the brunette couldn’t afford to lose.
 
Her next jab at Yuma’s head failed just like the previous one as the smaller girl spun to her left before unleashing a flurry of blows that crashed into the bigger girl's belly. Angela bent over as though to shield her body but again the collar stopped her from hunkering down properly. I was surprised.  Angela had stepped back so she should have created some slack in the chain.  I looked and gasped – JenMarie had a coil of the chain wrapped around her hand.  She was shortening the leash.  I shivered.
 
“Why is she doing that?”  I asked, to myself as much as to Taylor.  “She’s not giving Angela a chance!” I wanted to stamp my foot at the unfairness of it.  The pent up frustration I felt was knotting me up inside.  I tried to will Angela, "Punch the bitch!"
 
“JenMarie wants Angela to lose...badly,” Taylor replied smoothly, with malice in her voice.  She must have noticed my shocked expression.  She smiled and added coldly, “Why?  Because she’s a Domme.  Because she can, girl...because we can.”
 
I trembled as Taylor went on, “Look at Angela...controlled by that leash.  She might win if she wasn't, but that’s JenMarie’s entire point...to make her know she’s being controlled.  She has no power except what JenMarie allows her to have.  That’s her lesson for tonight.”
 
I wanted to retort, 'Of course she'd win!” but didn't trust myself to continue this conversation.  I could feel my own heart pounding.  I tried again to think of icebergs – cold, vast, white!  It didn’t help.  I couldn’t stop staring at the leash restraining Angela, imposing JenMarie’s will on her.  I couldn’t stop wondering how that must feel.
 
Angela winced and groaned as Yuma's fists pounded her abs. She scuttled back and launched yet another punch at Yuma’s head. She telegraphed it obviously, so it was clear she wasn’t hoping to damage Yuma but simply to keep her at bay.  However, the telegraph meant Yuma had time to choose her options.  She bobbed down again and Angela’s rebuffing fist missed.  Now she was over-extended, her back arched, her head held back by her collar.
 
Angela’s wide eyes and white face told us she knew what was coming in retaliation – and it did.  Yuma struck hard, pounding her foe’s gut with both fists. Each brought a gasp and a spray of spit from Angela’s lungs. Angela dropped her fists to defend her shattered gut. Smoothly Yuma shifted feet, rising from her crouch and yelling a battle cry she sent a left punch that rose over the brunette’s fists and hammered Angela’s jaw. Then Yuma’s right crashed into her foe’s nose.
 
Angela faltered.  She swung to her left trying to retreat, vainly since JenMarie tugged hard on the chain, jerking Angela up and straight into another blow from Yuma. Angela crumpled, legs buckling.  She dropped into a crouch. JenMarie smiled at Yuma as she jerked the chain lightly, then turned her other hand to point first at the chain and then to point her fist down.  Her meaning was obvious to us all, and wasn’t lost on Yuma either.
 
Taylor's voice was as smooth as oil.  “Girl, I told you...Ms JenMarie wants Angie to lose...and she's making sure she does.” Her stare bored holes in me.  She knew, better than I did myself, that watching this scene unfolding before me was terrifyingly exciting. My stomach was twisted into knots with arousal as I watched Angela being controlled like this.  It sparked memories of how Brooke and Jimmy had controlled me.  My legs went weak and I swayed on my feet, suddenly terrified that I might fall to my knees, here beside Ms T.
 
Angela got up again, just in time to meet a hard punch from Yuma. Angela took it on her chin and it jerked her head backwards. Yuma sent a barrage of punches into her reeling foe's stomach, chest and face. Angela had no answer to any of them.
 
Then Yuma grabbed Angela's leash. She yanked it hard.  Angela gagged.  Watching the big brunette struggle vainly, I almost felt the links digging into my own throat. Angela clawed frantically at her foe's arm and body, trying to force her to release her grip. It was hopeless. Yuma tightened the leash even more. It wasn't even half a minute before the larger girl was on the floor, choked unconscious.
 
JenMarie dropped the now unnecessary leash, stepped forward and hugged Yuma.  “Well done!  It couldn't happen to a better bitch.”  She nodded down to the motionless Angela.  “She needs to be reminded just how weak...how pathetic...she’s become. Go shower and I'll buy you a drink.”
 
“How weak...how pathetic she’s become,” Taylor repeated.  She looked at me.  “That could be said for some others here too.”
 
I didn't dare answer her. “Excuse me please, Taylor.  I need to go to the bathroom.”
 
She gave a dismissive sniff.  “Off to clean your panties, I bet.  You creamed them just now, didn't you?”
 
I shuddered as I walked away.  Taylor was very nearly right.  Of course I hadn't gone that far – I am Melissa Windeyer after all – but I could feel the heat and wetness beneath my skirt.  I was flushed, almost panting – and not with pleasure but from that cruel, horrid lust.
 
I felt better after taking the time – a long time – to freshen up in the bathroom. By the time I emerged, Angela, Yuma and JenMarie had all disappeared.  I couldn’t see Taylor either – not that I minded that.  It was as if the fight had never happened.  No one wanted to talk about it. I got a coffee and a bagel and sat down at my previous table, alone.
 
It didn't take long for the doubts to creep back into my mind.  Where were all the subbies, all those who had worshipped me? All gone since my fights with Britney and Lauren. They'd seen how close Britney had been to beating me.  Why would they bother with a Domme who almost surrendered to a nothing like her – as I had been on the point of doing?  Then Lisa had wagged her tongue to all who'd listen, telling them how I'd been destroyed – yes, that wasn’t too strong a word – by Lauren, just as Angela had just been destroyed before my eyes.  I felt for Angela.  I feared for myself.  Was that how I’d be, at some time in the not-too-distant future?  I almost wept at the thought.
 
I was brooding, even muttering to myself as I wracked my brains to think of some comeback, some way of recovering my proper status in the world, when Britney Summers stopped right next to me. I bristled, immediately thinking she was going to pick on me  I’d beat her of course, but my weakened state the effort might leave me prostrated for a week or more.
 
She stood over me – blonde hair, blue eyes and big tits.  “Ms Melissa?” Britney opened diffidently.  “Hello Melissa, may I sit with you?”
 
I tried to cover my surprise.  I hadn’t expected her to be even civil, let alone so respectful.  “Of course,” I smiled.  “How are you?”
 
Rather than answering, she observed, “You're on your own too.”
 
I gave her a long look.  She was as trashily dressed as ever. She was leaning on the table, her enhanced boobs just about hanging out of her almost sheer blouse, and her mini skirt was so short that I'm sure her panties were showing. She teetered on four inch heels.
 
“Only because I’m waiting for Holly Davidson.” I replied. I wasn't letting a tramp like Britney Summers compare herself to me.
 
“You’re lucky to have a good, loyal sub,” she said with more than a hint of despondency in her voice.
 
I raised my eyebrows.  “Where’s Paulette?”
 
Britney sighed.  “She left me.  She says I'm weak, no Domme, because I lost to you.”  I suppressed a smile.  I was too good a Domme – too nice a person – to gloat over another's misfortunes. Britney went on, “Melissa...don't you find it hard? You've been there too. You lose a fight and you lose your reputation with it. You get picked to pieces by the pack of hyenas...here and in every D/s club.”
 
With difficulty, I restrained myself from slapping this fluff ball who dared – the presumption! – to compare herself with me.  It was all I could do not to cut her down to size with the swift, biting repartee at which I had no equal.  I struggled, but I struggled successfully. I didn’t trust myself to speak – I’d have cut her to pieces with words sharper than knives.
 
Instead I nodded sympathetically and patted the poor girl's face. She smiled and gently squeezed my hand as I soothed her. “I knew you'd understand, Melissa.”
 
“You can't brood,” I told her at last.  “You can't let them get you down. You must show your confidence. Always. Remind yourself who you are.”  I stood up, forcing to back away a step.  “Come on.  Let's go have a drink at the bar.”
 
She pouted.  “But they’ll say – “
 
I squeezed her wrist firmly, cutting her off.  “Ignore what they might say.  They don’t matter. “After all, you're with Melissa Windeyer, sweetie.”
 
I spotted Patti and her circle near the near, and we went over to them.  I spoke to Patti but she seemed different, not saying much, even drawing away.  Of course, the poor thing was overwhelmed by our presence, and the way Britney was so clearly solicitous to me.
 
Britney had other ideas.  She drew me aside and whispered, “Melissa, we’re wasting our time here with them. They don’t want to be with us.  They think we’re losers. You know how competitive the scene is. Its dog eat dog. (bitch eat bitch?)The subbies would love to bring one of us down to their level. They’re so sordid. Most of them have no loyalty. They just love to pick apart fallen Dommes.”
 
My mood clouded over again.  Who did Britney think she was talking to? Fallen Dommes – Ms Melissa Windeyer was no fallen Domme, whatever Britney might think of herself. But she did have a point. “These girls need to be taught a lesson. No, that’s not quite right.  Sweetie, you you need to teach them a lesson. You need to show them you’re no loser.”
 
She perked up.  “Yes...but how, Melissa?”
 
The little girl was relying on me for advice – as she should of course.  What a change in her attitude from when we’d met last, though I wasn’t going to point that out – not yet, not till I’d got her hanging on my every word. Then I’d show her herself, how she dependent she was on me, how much she needed my support – in short, how broken, how totally subbie she was to me. Turning her without any overt act would be my ultimate revenge on her. A loser like her, a fallen Domme – yes the subbies were right for the moment, even if Britney would bounce some of the way back – would make a wonderful sub for me. It would show them my power.  “You need to make them see you’re a Domme,” I said aloud.
 
“Yes...but how?” she persisted.  Any other time, her repetition might have annoyed me but not when she was so clearly depending on me. She actually held my hand, as if she was clinging to me for support.
 
They say fortune favours the brave and just then, fortune favoured me – as it so often did.  The door opened and Paulette strode into the room, looking quite alluring in a hot pink dress and black patent leather boots, her blonde hair tumbling loose over her shoulders.  She was younger than either Britney or me – perhaps in her early twenties.  I’d never bothered to find out much about her.  She was just the coat check girl, there to serve – in more ways than one.  I nodded at her.  “Go greet Paulette, as if you know she’s still your subbie.”  She hesitated.  “Go on.” I had to physically push the reluctant Britney towards the lobby. “Go on!  Own her again!”
 
The little fool seemed almost afraid to approach Paulette but thankfully, there was too much noise and too many people in GaleForce at that time for Paulette to have noticed her hesitation.  Looking at each of them though, I saw Britney’s concern – compared with her own revealing outfit, Paulette looked almost sophisticated, certainly much less of a subbie slut.
 
“Don't be fooled by appearances, girl,” I whispered.  “Take her!”
 
Encouraged by my wise words, Britney stepped forward.  Winners make their own luck and once again, I’d made mine.  Britney had the opportunity to own Paulette again, just as I in turn would own Britney. Britney had to seize that opportunity, as I had seized the opportunity presented to me.  Not that I cared about Britney or Paulette of course – they were mere fluff ball, just like Heidi and her silkie friends.  They were pawns in my grand design.
 
I ordered a drink as Britney approached Paulette, and took a stool at the bar where I could hear their conversation. “How lovely to see you, sweetie!” smiled Britney.  She embraced Paulette warmly.
 
“Hi there, Britney.”  Paulette responded immediately with a close hug, and then kissed Britney firmly on the lips. Britney seemed to shudder slightly.  She was understandably surprised by the warmth of Paulette's response.  From what Britney had told me, she evidently expected – as did I – that Paulette would be cold.  Instead she was passionately, if not too respectfully, kissing Britney.
 
Britney took a step back.  Paulette took a slightly longer step forward and whispered huskily but loudly enough for those around to hear, “Oh Britney, don't be like that!” She enveloped Britney in another hug and this time Britney responded, kissing Paulette back with equal ardor. When they finally broke the kiss, Britney smiled, ”It's good to see you, pet. What's news?”
 
“Best news is you're here, up and about again,” replied Paulette.  “I’m so happy to see you!” She clutched Britney's ass cheeks, pulling her Mistress close. Britney's mouth opened in surprise. I looked on with equal amazement.  Was Paulette actually grinding her crotch into Britney’s? Surely not!  But I couldn’t argue with the evidence of my own eyes.
 
Britney shivered. She drew herself up taller, making Paulette look up at her. ”Britney...why so distant?” purred Paulette.  Her arm encircled Britney's neck and drew her head down again.  Her other hand tightened its grip on Britney's butt, squeezing a cheek hard. Again she kissed Britney.  Her tongue slid inside the taller blonde's mouth and Britney’s eyes went wide again.
 
My eyes boggled.  Was Paulette sliding her leg up between Britney's thighs? Yes, she was, pressing it hard against the taller girl’s crotch.  As she kneaded Britney's butt, pulling Britney harder onto her knee, I heard Britney give a long sigh. It was then I understood what Paulette was doing.  She wasn't being affectionate – she was sex fighting.
 
I gripped the edge of my stool tightly, willing Britney to realise what was happening and to fight back. Britney knew of course – she might have been a fluff ball but she wasn’t stupid.  She began to fight back – successfully.  She laid a hand on Paulette's shoulder and pushed firmly.  She didn’t push Paulette away though.  Britney was smarter than that.  Her tactic was almost worthy of me. She pressed Paulette down, using her height to the best advantage. Paulette's knees buckled under the sudden pressure.
 
Cupping her other hand around the back of Paulette's head, Britney drew her in.  She kissed Paulette's lips as firmly as Paulette had kissed hers a moment ago. Paulette's eyes opened wide.  I smiled to myself – the fool was surprised that Britney had twigged to her insidious scheme.  I relished the look of shock and fear on her face as she saw her plan backfire.
 
Britney pressed her attack, thrusting her tongue deep into Paulette's mouth.  Her hand slid off Paulette’s shoulder and down her back, squeezing, pressing Paulette tight against her, crushing the shorter girl’s smaller breasts against her own.
 
Paulette’s slender body shivered, then tensed.  I could sense her struggle against her own mounting lust, the lust that Britney had excited in her, but she wasn’t giving in easily.  Her hands dropped once more to Britney's ass.  She pulled Britney’s skirt up, got her hands on firm flesh and kneaded both cheeks, hard enough for Britney to break the kiss and gasp. Paulette tried to kiss Britney but my former foe shut her mouth against the smaller blonde's tongue.
 
Britney didn’t let Paulette continue unmolested either.  Forcing her hand between their writhing bodies, she squeezed and stroked Paulette's breast through her dress. Paulette shivered again.  Her grip on Britney's butt weakened.  Britney shook her hands away.  Paulette tried to grab at Britney's sides, as if she wanted a firm hold to push her adversary back.  Instead, Britney pulled Paulette even closer, bent her head and nibbled on Paulette's ear, still playing with the smaller girl's breast, still holding her tightly with one arm behind her back, the way a dancer holds her partner.
 
Britney smiled teasingly. “You liked playing with my buns?  Yeah sweetie, I've got a sexy ass.”  She jerked Paulette even tighter against her.  “You won’t be able to keep your hands off it when you're worshipping me.” She leaned forward into Paulette, her mouth open, about to engulf the smaller girl’s mouth with hers.  Suddenly she jumped. “OWWW!”  Paulette had smacked her butt hard. The blow surprised Britney, weakened her grip for a moment and allowed Paulette to brush her foe's arm away. Now it was Paulette's hand that slid up inside Britney's filmy blouse, to cup and squeeze Britney's lacy bra, pinching a hard nipple between forefinger and thumb. Horrified, I saw Britney's body shiver involuntarily from head to toe.  Then her body pushed up hard against Paulette's.
 
For almost the first time I noticed Paulette – how different she was now from the coat check girl that I'd met and used just a few months ago. She was a sexy little package, but did she have power too?  The way she was handling herself – and Britney – now made me wonder.  Was Paulette a switch rather than a subbie as I’d always assumed?  Worse was she one who liked flipping Dommes? My stomach suddenly knotted.  The thought of that...
 
I glanced across the bar, caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror and was startled.  My mouth hung open, my face was glowing with a thin sheen of sweat, my skin flushed with arousal as I watched and silently willed Britney to counter attack.
 
But if I was aroused, Britney and Paulette were much more so. Britney's bosom heaved even as her body softened under Paulette's renewed assault.  She whimpered aloud as Paulette held her nipple captive, squeezing it firmly.  Again Paulette slapped Britney's ass hard and continued to work her nipple, rolling it back and forth.  Britney squirmed against Paulette and moaned.
 
I could see the effort it took for Britney to summon her resistance, but she managed to do so and slid her hand down between their bodies, then further down between Paulette’s slightly parted legs.  She stroked the inside of Paulette's thigh, then her hand slid higher, rucking up her former subbie's skirt. Paulette tried to clamp her legs together. It didn't help her. Britney's hand was high enough for her thumb to caress Paulette's sex. Now Paulette too moaned and squirmed. Her entire body shuddered.
 
“Yes!” I more than muttered, again driving my nails into my palms. “Take her, Britney!  Own her!” I licked my lips with anticipation.  My stomach churned again – or was that still?  It had not really stopped since before this encounter.  I was breathless, gasping for air as though it was me fighting, rather than just watching.
 
Britney pushed forward, on the offensive again, kissing Paulette hard. Paulette stumbled back but she was no closer to giving in than Britney was.  Paulette seized Britney's hand, yanking it away from her crotch, twisting it upward behind Britney's back with surprising strength. Britney grunted as Paulette's grip bent her over.
 
Paulette held her there for a moment, making her struggle vainly, demonstrating her advantage.  Then she released her grip and, as Britney straightened up, the smaller girl's other arm reached over Britney’s back, grabbing the bottom of her blouse.  She yanked it upward and by the time Britney was upright, Paulette had hauled the back of her blouse up above her head.  The front was up around her neck, exposing her barely covered bosom, half blinding her and trapping her arms tight.  Britney floundered as Paulette held her tightly, kissing her, squeezing her breast through her flimsy excuse for a bra.
 
I didn’t hear Jade West approach from behind me until she spoke.  “You're wrong, Melissa.  Britney's losing this,” she hissed.  “It’s her who’s going to get owned.”  I did my best to give the svelte blonde a frosty stare – a struggle, given how I was feeling.  She was dressed just as she had been the last time I saw her, all in black – black calf-length boots, black stockings, a black skirt with a long sleeved, high necked black sweater. Her pale skin, her blonde hair and the silver pendant, carrying a tiny fob-watch, that dangled down between her breasts, all served to emphasise the dark power and strength portrayed by her attire.
 
I didn't even know Jade was in GaleForce tonight, but here she was with that delectable subbie of hers – Nikki – in tow. Yes, Nikki was a brainless nothing – all she thought about was clothes, parties and men – but she was a hot little piece, altogether too good for Jade.
 
“No,“ I said, trying to control the breathlessness in my own voice.  I couldn’t let Jade see how excited I was.  “Britney can fight back.”
 
“Nope,” Jade retorted with certainty.  “Look at Paulette.  She's strong, she's powerful...she’s eating Britney alive.”
 
I gulped. Jade had a point. I spent another moment sizing Paulette up.  She was shorter than Britney, with a shorter reach too, but that didn't matter now. Nor perhaps did Paulette's strong thighs, well-developed abs and well-muscled arms.  They would be decisive in any normal fight but not here – not now.  What mattered now was willpower – that and sexiness. Britney and Paulette were both sexy – in a cheap, slutty way of course.  Neither of them were in my class – few people were – but sexy nonetheless.  That could cut both ways in a fight like this though.
 
Willpower was another matter.  Who had most, Britney or Paulette?  I continued to watch.
 
Paulette was making the most of her chances, pawing and fondling the now panting, gasping Britney who struggled – none too successfully – to free herself from her blouse. Paulette stepped forward and grabbed Britney around waist, shoving herself into her adversary once more, sliding a leg between Britney's slightly parted thighs. Did I see Britney’s legs part a little further to accommodate Paulette's knee? I told myself I was imagining things.
 
But there was no imagining what happened next.  Holding Britney around her waist with one hand, Paulette pushed up onto her toes against the taller girl's body, pressing her knee into Britney’s crotch.  She dropped back, then rose up again, rubbing her strong leg into Britney's crotch. Britney's mouth opened in a gasp.  Her back arched and her head fell back. Paulette leaned in and licked Britney's neck, then bit it hard. Britney squealed.
 
Paulette snaked her other arm around Britney and dexterously unhooked the bigger blonde’s bra. “You're enjoying this...way too much,” she cooed maliciously with a voice like silk.
 
Come on!  Fight back! I silently encouraged my friend – Britney had proven herself to be my friend when she accepted my guidance.
 
To my delight, Britney recovered.  She had managed to free her arms from the wreck of her sleeveless blouse, which now hung like a scarf around her neck and over her shoulders.  She was able to use her hands now and she tweaked Paulette's nipple hard. The overconfident little fluff ball whimpered.  She'd clearly thought Britney was finished and had let down her defences.  Britney reached behind Paulette and slapped her ass. Paulette cried out and then, as Britney cupped her butt cheeks and squeezed them firmly, she gave a needful moan.

[peccavi]

 
Again the cloak room girl rallied, finding some inner strength I’d never suspected she had. She seemed to thrust her arousal deep inside her, just as I'd done in a similar situation with Holly but failed so badly to do when Jimmy had tricked me.  Again she thrust her leg up and ran her hard knee up and down against Britney's clit through her panties. Britney gasped in surprise and lust, and sagged forward against her foe.
 
“Look at Britney...she can fight back but she doesn't want to,” Jade insinuated.  ”Look...she doesn't know it yet, but subconsciously she wants to surrender. She wants to be...” She paused and her voice was a purring whisper in my ear, “...owned.” Her words sent even more butterflies into my already roiling belly.
 
I watched, gripping the edge of my stool hard.  Jade was right. Britney seemed transfixed by her own arousal.  Her only reaction was a long, low groan of need as Paulette buried her hand inside Britney's short skirt.  When it emerged a moment later, Paulette’s fingers were hooked in Britney’s panties, dragging them down to her knees.
 
Paulette’s voice was loud enough for me to hear clearly – or perhaps I was just so focused on her words.  “Give in,” she crooned.  “Give in to your need.”
 
Britney’s face was white and damp with sweat.  Her eyes were like saucers.  She trembled like a leaf as Paulette pushed her bra up, baring her breasts.  Her nipples were pebble-hard and Britney gave a loud cry of despair when Paulette pinched them cruelly.
 
Jade continued to murmur in my ear, “Later, after she’s been...owned...she won't be happy with the woman who set her up for this.  Oh no...she'll be looking for revenge.” This time the relish in her voice made me shiver all the way to my boots.  “Pity I don't have time to hang around and see that...but I have things to do. Come, Nikki.”
 
She walked off with her sub, leaving me sweating on my stool.  I was Melissa Windeyer!  How could a non-entity like Jade twist me into knots like she just had?
 
The simple answer was that she hadn't – it was the scene unfolding in front of me.  Jade had just seen a chance to needle me.  I'd expected Britney to win.  Instead, Paulette – the cloak room girl, the little subbie who'd so eagerly worshipped me in the shower and then switched her allegiance to Britney – was now walking a moaning, sobbing, breathless Britney backwards across the room.  She had her hand thrust between Britney’s legs again, openly fingering her in full view of the bar, but Britney was past caring about the hoots and catcalls of the crowd.
 
The sexy – and very sexed-up – blonde stumbled backwards until her ass hit the edge of a table.  She stiffened momentarily.  Paulette pressed up hard against her and kissed her forcefully.  She thrust her fingers deeper inside Britney. Britney moaned and instinctively raised herself up on her tiptoes, but Paulette pressed harder into her, pushing her up onto the table.  Paulette twisted her other hand in Britney's hair and forced her former owner down onto her back.  Britney whimpered plaintively, lifted her knees and spread her legs wide in surrender.
 
Horrified, I watched Paulette fondle and tease Britney who was now shamelessly grinding herself on Paulette’s fingers.  It reminded me all too vividly of how I’d been in Britney’s position, splayed out on a table in this very room.  I felt the heat in my face as I flushed with shame at the memory, but also the heat in my belly as that horrid desire gnawed at me.  I wanted to leave, to hide, to be anywhere but here. I couldn't bear watching this but I knew that if I ran away, people would know just how weak I felt.
 
Jade came back.  I wondered if she’d been waiting for the right moment to do so, “What did I tell you?  Britney wanted to lose.  She's a subbie...no, she's a slut, who just pretends to be a Domme to conceal her real nature.”  She gave me a self-satisfied smile as she added in a slow, measured tone, “Just...like...” Her voice trailed off, but her look told me – and anyone else who was listening – that she was referring to me.
 
I was piecing together a suitably biting retort when Britney let out a loud, anguished moan. “Shut up and cum for me, slut!” Paulette's sneer carried as loudly as the sound of her smack on Britney's bare butt and Britney's yelp of pain. Her cry was followed by another louder moan as the fallen Domme bucked and came, shaking, her arms and legs flailing in complete abandon.
 
Paulette plundered her foe, bringing her to ecstasy repeatedly.  It seemed like an age before she finally allowed the totally spent Britney to subside.  She lay twitching on the table in a puddle of her own juices, white faced and gasping, her bare chest heaving, bathed in sweat.
 
Paulette leaned over her.  “What do you think you're doing, slut?” Her voice cracked whip-like, as did her hand on Britney’s face.  “Don’t just lay there!”  Britney opened her mouth to give a weak, whimpering response but Paulette cut her off.  “Don't whine!  I've pleasured you, and now it’s time for you to serve me!  Up!” She yanked on Britney's hair, forcing her to her feet holding her bent double by her hair.  Then she half led, half dragged her stumbling, still trembling captive to the showers.
 
Jade had stepped around to stand beside me.  She even had the effrontery to place her hand on my shoulder.  She smiled coldly down at me.  “Even Nikki could have a piece of...” she paused and looked straight into my eyes.  I clenched my fists, ready to – I didn’t know what.  Was I going to fight Jade if she insulted me?   I shivered.  Then she finished her sentence.  “...Britney, now.” I shivered again as she went on.  “Losers.  Angela and Britney...both of them.  Losers who pay the price.”  She cocked her head.  “Why do you look so shocked, Melissa?. You extract your price when you beat someone...but they tell me you haven’t been winning much lately.”  Her smile widened just as her eyes narrowed.  “It’s about time someone extracted a price from you.” She beckoned to her sub who stood dutifully a few feet away.  “Come, Nikki.  We’ve got better things to do than waste our time talking to pretend Dommes.”
 
She turned her back on me – me, Melissa Windeyer!  I was speechless, quivering with anger.  I wanted to give her a piece of my mind – more than that, I wanted to beat some respect into her – but I just sat there, my mind numb, my stomach churning, and watched her walk away.
 
I didn’t understand myself.  Why was I so aghast – yet so aroused – at Angela’s and Britney’s defeats? Why had I invested so much of myself in these two women? Neither of them were remotely near my standard, not in dress, in manners, in fighting skills, not in poise or ability.  Neither of them deserved to rise to the level I would reach. So why were my insides roiling?  Why was my mouth dry and – yes, I admit it – my pussy wet?
 
I knew I had to focus on something else. I stood up and walked toward the other end of the bar, determined to put all this past me, to move to find more worthy of Melissa Windeyer.
 
Fortune favoured me yet again – as it always did.  Almost immediately saw something worthy – a sad- faced and sore Angela Peccavi standing forlornly in a corner of the club. She had cleaned herself up a little and her blouse was buttoned up now, but her face still bore the marks of Yuma’s fists and three was a livid red welt across her throat where Yuma had choked her out with the chain.
 
Clearly in need of the kind of comfort and support I could provide, she smiled wanly as she caught my eye.  The smile was enough of an invitation to strike up a conversation so I went over to her.  We talked about her work and her studies.  I complimented her on her progress.  I asked about her new apartment – I knew she'd recently moved in with her boyfriend Mario.  We talked about everything except her fight and what was going on in the club.
 
I probed a little regarding Mario.  I'd pieced together some gossip – chance remarks from other girls but they were enough for Melissa Windeyer to put the picture together – that Angela was more than a little subservient to Mario.  It was more than just the fact that he was a traditional Italian-American. No, the reason Angela never achieved anything near the status of me or other Dommes was simple – Angela had a strong submissive streak. Mario was just what she needed – a strong, dominant male. No wonder she kept him under wraps
 
Quietly, gently but firmly, I began to remove some of those wraps. It was for Angela’s own good of course.  How could I help her if I didn’t know all about her?  At the same time, it gave me ammunition to use against her. I was going to conquer Angela.  As I built up her weakened self-confidence, her shattered self-esteem, she'd begin to rely on me – as she should, just like all the wannabe Dommes, Britney included.  She’d be yet another supplicant to Melissa Windeyer.  It was the nature of things.
 
My plan was going well. Angela was – very correctly – grateful for my company and my support.  I cheered her up.  I made her feel better about herself.  Like I said to her, "No one wins all the time.  Even the best of us have a few losses. But the test of a good Domme...a good fighter...is how she bounces back. Take me, for example. Three times I've had to pick myself up again. Three times people have tricked me, taken advantage of my good nature...but each time, I’ve recovered.”
 
Angela looked at me. “I've heard rumours,” she started hesitantly.
 
I saw I'd have to give details.  I sighed.  It would be boring to recount these stories but at least, by telling her what had happened, I’d get the truth and use the gossip mill to my advantage.
 
“The first time was in Chatro,” I explained.  “I'd just asserted myself by putting a blonde in her place. She'd been terrorising other girls. I made sure she'd think twice before trying to pick on anyone again...at least when I was around.  My victory had made me...” I grinned, “...a little excited. So I gratefully accepted some cute young subbie's offer to worship me.”  My smil faded as I added.  “It was all a vile trick.  The so-called subbie was one of those vicious types who like flipping Dommes...and she nearly succeeded too. I...yes, I...Melissa Windeyer!...ended that horrible night in a very compromising position.” Of course I didn't reveal just how horrid it was – how I wound up on my back on a table with my legs spread, being fucked with a toy while sucking some stranger's cock. Angela certainly didn't need to know that.
 
What Angela needed to know was that I had recovered from that little embarrassment. And so I proceeded to tell her. “But I came back.  When some little bitch tried to spread exaggerated rumours about what happened that night, I thrashed her. And I didn't stop there either.  Oh no...I demonstrated just who...and what I am, by taking Holly.”  I smiled again.  “The poor thing tried to challenge me – me!  Melissa Windeyer!  Imagine it!  She'd heard some rumours and she thought I'd been weakened. Of course, I proved her wrong. You know I own her now.”
 
Angela nodded.
 
“So, pet, you can do the same.  That was no fair fight anyway. You were robbed. JenMarie took away any chance you had.”
 
Carefully, I built up Angela's self-esteem, I drew her out about her fights, which was boring – who wants all the tedious details of who she beat up and how she did it – but important for my purposes.  It made her focus on her strengths, not her weaknesses.  I got her talking about her job again, which was almost as boring but again useful to get her focused on her accomplishments – such as they were.
 
It was a fine line, of course.  I had to be careful.  I couldn't have her getting ideas above her station.  She had to know, very clearly, that she could never measure up to me, but I got that message across without being abrupt about it.  Then I decided I needed to put a break in the conversation. “I'm glad we had our little chat, but you need to prove yourself now.  Go out there in the bar and show me what you've just learned from me. Go and be positive.”
 
Angela smiled at me.  “I'm so grateful to you,” she said. “It was so good of you to spend some time with me.” I watched her walk away, her head held high – and she almost immediately walked into trouble.
 
“You’re looking good, Angela.” Taylor greeted her.  ”You've recovered well.”
 
“That was so unfair Taylor!” exclaimed Angela with venom.  “I'd have slaughtered that slut, if JenMarie hadn't interfered!”
 
Taylor's eyebrows shot up.  “Oh?” Her voice was a dangerous purr.
 
I was too far away to intervene without the entire bar hearing me.  Angela was on her own in this.  I prayed she would back off, but she didn't. “Yeah!  I know JenMarie wanted me to lose and se made sure I did!  I'd have made that bitch Yuma beg for mercy.”  She laughed scornfully.  “I'd have made her eat me out!”
 
“Oh really?  Maybe you'd like to tell that to Yuma yourself.” Taylor stepped to one side, just as Angela's nemesis walked up.  This had clearly been a trap from the beginning.  Angela had walked right into it.
 
“What!?” squawked Angela, as Taylor moved behind her and seized her arms, pinning them together behind her back.  She struggled futilely to free herself from Taylor’s firm grip, but Taylor held her fast.
 
“So you'd have slaughtered me, would you?” Yuma wasted no time.  Her right fist slammed into Angela's stomach. Angela groaned and hunched over, but Taylor yanked her back upright again.  Yuma's left fist struck at almost the same spot. Angela gasped and folded forward again.  “I don't think so!” Yuma sneered.
 
I was as surprised as Angela was, but then no one – especially not Melissa Windeyer since I always fought fairly – could have expected such a low trick as this. These girls were despicable.  Tricking Angela into fighting again was one thing, but holding her while a weak slut like Yuma beat her up?  No true Domme would do that.  Taylor filled me with disgust – but also with more than a little fear.
 
I couldn’t help but imagine myself in Angela’s place.  I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t prevent it.  The thought of being trapped by a strong woman made me shiver – I knew Taylor’s reputation and, like almost everyone else, feared her.  I saw myself held by her while some weak girl like Yuma pounded my belly.  That mental image immediately gave to that horrid lust I’d first felt when Colleen had flipped me, that night in Chatro.  I felt my pussy clench tight.  Why had I brought up that topic tonight with Angela?  I tried to push it from my mind.  I thought of icebergs.
 
I considered trying to rescue Angela but I knew I couldn't do it.  Taylor was just too strong. She’d destroy me just as easily as Yuma was destroying Angela.  The thought made me tremble.  My stomach was churning again, worse than before.  I felt my loins clench again, and this time felt the wetness in my panties.  I thought, though I tried hard not to, of Angela with her leash fastened around her arms, restraining her, being pounded mercilessly by Yuma while Taylor hammered my stomach. I bit my tongue to stop my mouth – my oh-so-dry mouth – emitting a moan. I looked down as I realized I was playing with the piercing in my navel, through my blouse.  I hurriedly took my hand way.  This had to stop. Again I thought of icebergs. An image leapt into my mind, of the Titanic colliding with the iceberg.
 
All too quickly, Taylor's words brought me back to the scene before me as she jerked Angela back upright and hissed in her ear, “I do so hope you weren’t criticising Ms JenMarie, bitch.  You're far too mouthy.”
 
I knew what was coming and I felt myself shake with anticipation as Yuma’s fist buried itself deep in Angela's gut once more.  I heard her groan of pain and watched her body jerk forward, then back, trembling.  Her legs all but gave out. She'd have fallen to the ground if Taylor had not held her.  Tears streamed down her face, betraying her torment.
 
It was a terrifying but mesmerising spectacle.  I couldn't take my eyes from it. My stomach churned again.  I shivered.  My panties were soaked from that vile feeling I knew only so well. I was being horribly turned on by the cruel beating that Angela was suffering.
 
A voice from behind me cut broke the spell.  I glanced over my shoulder Jade was back.  She was holding a white wine cooler in her hand, swigging it from the bottle.  "Nikki, look at Melissa!  She's shaking...rubbing her belly...and not from indigestion either.”
 
Nikki giggled and said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “Oh, Ms Melissa!  I hope you’re not unwell.”
 
Jade laughed.  "No Melissa’s rubbing herself because she all turned on.” She turned to me. “Isn’t that right, Melissa?  You’re fantasising.  You want – “
 
I cut Jade off in mid-sentence.  “Yes!  I was imagining you there, Jade...where Angela is, with Nikki beating you while – ” I quickly thought of one of Jade's many enemies “ – Julia holds you!” I threw her challenge – and a challenge it had been - right back at her.  “After all, Nikki's loyalty is a little suspect...or so I hear.”
 
Few people can trap Melissa Windeyer, and Jade West certainly wasn’t one of them.  I knew from the look on her face, from the way she gulped, that I’d hit home. Twice. She knew she could very well find herself in Angela’s position.  She knew too that Nikki wasn't very loyal – not to Jade, at any rate.  After all, Jade was hardly a strong Domme. I knew that, were I to bother, I could destroy Jade, capture Nikki and then she'd be loyal to me. Not that I wanted to.  Melissa Windeyer didn’t need another Domme’s castoffs.
 
I followed up my counter attack with another choice remark.  “Not that I'd do anything like that to you, of course.  I fight fair.  But you'd stoop to that, wouldn't you Jade? Ms Justeen was right when she called you a hyena.”
 
Just then Angela’s anguished cry, “Ugh!  UGGGHHH!!! Nnnggghhhaaahhh...” grabbed my attention and whipped my head back toward the fight – if one could call this brutal two-on-one beating a fight.  Poor Angela’s body twisted in Taylor’s tight grasp.  Her mouth hung open as she gulped air.  The other hyena, Yuma, was working her over pitilessly and thoroughly.
 
As I looked again, I felt myself immediately drawn into Angela’ anguish, as it was my own belly being ravaged so ruthlessly.  That dreadful demon lust for pain – not just but humiliation – welled up again within me. I was literally shaking, my eyes riveted on Yuma’s fists as they sank wrist-deep now in Angela’s ruined abs.  I knew how devastating those belly punches would be. After all, it was only six days since that bitch Lauren had slammed her knee into my stomach, three agonising times. The pain of those unanswered blows had sunk deep into my body.  I could still feel the pain of them, just as surely as Angela’s tormented face told of the pain she was feeling now.
 
Angela bucked and swayed in Taylor’s arms as Yuma punched her yet again.  Spit erupted from her gaping mouth.  Her head lolled and she drooled on herself.  Watching, I too remembered how that felt – the pain and the shame of it.  More than that, I also remembered the lust though in fact I didn’t need to remember it – it was there now, that terrible heat in my belly, the wetness that had now crept down to my thighs.  With each blow that landed in Angela’s belly, my own desire built, just as it had when Jimmy Berwick had tortured me with his words, here at the bar in Galeforce.  I didn’t know what had been worse – losing the fight to Lauren or surrendering with no real fight at when Jimmy had enthralled me with his vivid account of an imaginary fight against his girlfriend Brooke.
 
Yuma buried her knuckles again in Angela’s midriff.  As Angela lurched at the blow, so did I.  I gave a long sigh, a deep exhalation of breath that I knew was audible.  I had to brace myself, to consciously think to stop my trembling knees from knocking together.
 
Jade found her voice again.  “Nikki, did you hear what Melissa called me?  A hyena!  That’s not very nice of her, is it, Nikki?”
 
“No Ms Jade it isn’t,” Nikki chimed in again, “but Melissa’s not a very nice person.“ Nikki was standing behind me and she leaned forward, close enough to whisper in my ear.  "Melissa you slut, JenMarie wants me to give you a message.  She says you’re a nothing and soon, everyone will know that.” I shuddered and without thinking, twisted my neck to search the room for JenMarie.  When I found her, she locked eyes with me and smiled humourlessly. I knew that Nikki hadn’t been lying.  JenMarie had indeed given Nikki the message.  It was too much – the fights, the way she’d controlled Angela, ensured Angela would lose. I felt her strength, her heartlessness.  I whimpered out loud.
 
Nikki stepped back.  “Ms Jade, why should we take any notice of this worthless nothing? Paulette doesn’t...not any longer...not since Melissa showed what she truly is...nothing but a whore who takes it in a crowded bar. Just like her friend Britney did tonight.  They make a good pair.”  She laughed – laughed at me, at Melissa Windeyer!  I wanted to cut her down to size but I didn’t trust myself to try.  I knew what the result would be, right then, and it wouldn’t be good for me.
 
“She’s weak, Nikki...not as weak as you...not normally...not physically.  But her mind is a whole different thing.  Work on that, let her own imagination defeat her, and you can take her without even landing a blow.”  Jade’s voice dripped with derision.
 
I didn’t trust myself to reply to that either.  My eyes were fixed on Angela as she twitched and jerked with every blow that Yuma slammed into her helpless body.  I knew Jade was watching me – not just watching me but sizing me up, wondering whether she could take me. Despite what she said to Nikki, she knew that Melissa Windeyer was no low hanging fruit. Nevertheless, I shivered at the thought of having to fight her right now. I was still sore after my battle with Lauren but worse than that, seeing both my new protégés taken down so appallingly had stirred the awful memories of my own losses and dissolved my confidence like sugar in coffee. Jade looked strong.  Maybe she was. I knew she wanted to take me. Maybe she could. She would be merciless.  She’d do to me what Yuma and Taylor were doing to Angela – maybe worse.
 
So I shook as Yuma’s fist slammed deep into the pit of Angela’s stomach yet again.  Taylor let her go. Angela’s legs had given up long ago under the relentless assault.  It had only been Taylor’s grip that had kept my friend – the girl I’d begun to mentor – upright.  Now Angela collapsed like a burst balloon.  I couldn’t help remembering the night – that awful night – when, just a few feet from where I stood now, Brooke had punched me hard in the stomach, after she and Jimmy had weakened me with their mind games.  She’d only had to punch me twice and I’d sunk to my knees just as Angela had now. And just as I’d clutched my tortured gut and folded up on the floor, too weak even to kneel, so Angela did the same.
 
The full horror was yet to come though.  Yuma wasn’t finished with her prey. She kicked Angela, rolling her over onto her back.  I blanched as Taylor stepped forward.  She bent and stared down scornfully at the beaten brunette.  “You said you were going to make Yuma eat you out,” she sneered.  “Doesn’t seem like that’s working out for you.”  She gripped the hem of her own skirt and wriggled it up over her hips, then pulled her panties down.  Kneeling astride Angela, she slapped her hard.  “So now you can eat me out instead.”  She lowered her bare sex onto Angela’s sweat-slicked face.  Angela didn’t even resist – she was too beaten now in body and spirit.
 
Even that humiliation wasn’t the end for Angela.  Yuma had disappeared but she returned and kicked Angela’s legs apart.  The redhead had found a strappie from somewhere and it now bounced lewdly at her crotch.  She knelt before Angela, facing Taylor.  Yuma grabbed Angela’s ankles and lifted her legs high, handing them to Taylor who tucked them under her arms, holding Angela bent double with her haunches up and her bare pussy – Yuma had yanked her panties aside – on display to the crowd.  That display didn’t last long though, for Yuma immediately slid herself forward and plunged the strappie into Angela.  The big brunette’s body bucked but again she made no protest other than a muffled scream of despair from beneath Taylor’s butt.
 
Nikki laughed again.  “A whore who takes it in a crowded bar!” she repeated. “Look at her Ms!  You could take her easily!”  I thought she was talking about Angela and that made me angry but she continued, “Look at her hand inside her panties.  OhmyGod, what a slut!”  My anger turned to dread.  I glanced down and gaped.  I hadn’t even noticed my own hand, inside my rucked-up skirt, fingers inside my panties, stroking my folds.  I flushed as scarlet as my blazer.  I’d lost control, just as I had twice before – and without even realizing it.  This demon lust was driving me mad.
 
“Pet, I know I could,” replied Jade.  “Pet, you’d get behind her and grab her arms, just like Ms Taylor did.  Then I’d get her legs and between us, we’d lift her up to the table...yeah, that one behind you.”
 
I was dry mouthed, gasping from the fire in my belly, struggling to keep from thrusting my hand back down there.  I looked from Jade and Nikki to Taylor and Yuma gang-banging Angela, in lustful confusion  Taylor was grinding herself onto Angela’s face while Yuma pumped the toy in and out of the brunette.  I felt for Angela but the true horror was how it fuelled the vile memory of my own humiliation – how Colleen had so cruelly flipped me, and how she’d taken me with a strappie too in front of the entire crowd.
 
Nikki stepped closer to me. I flinched and stepped back, almost tripping myself with my own heels.  “Ms, we’d drag her back and toss her on that table.”  She stared into my eyes brazenly.  Again she stepped forward.  Again I retreated.  “Her legs would hang off the sides...and the slut would take it.  Yeah, just like Jimmy Berwick did to her here.  Just like Colleen did to her, that night in Chatro.”  I took another step back and felt the edge of the table against my butt.  I whimpered again.
 
“Pet, we wouldn’t even need to toss her on the table.“ Jade came close.  She was only an inch or two form me, right in my face. She put her hand on my chest, between my heaving breasts, and shoved me backward.  I was so weak that her single shove was enough to send me sprawling onto the table.  “See?”
 
Nikki giggled, a horrid sound. “Ms!  She’s spread her legs already!”  I blushed even deeper.  She was right.  As I’d fallen backwards, my legs had parted of their own accord and my skirt had ridden up.  “Shall I pull her panties...her soaked panties down?”
 
“We wouldn’t need a strappie either,” sneered Jade.  “Though it’d be fun to borrow it off Yuma after she’d finished with Angie, and do Melissa with it.”  She glanced over her shoulder at the threesome on the floor.  “That might be a while though...looks like Yuma’s taking her time.”  Turning back to me, she grinned evilly.  “Melissa’s not picky though.  She’d take this!” She held up the long-necked bottle in her hand.  “She’d take this in the crowded bar, like the whore she is.”
 
“NO!” I did my best to make it sound like a command but my voice was desperate and pleading, even in my own ears.  A crowd had begun to form around us in expectation of new entertainment – with me as the new victim.  I lay quivering on the table as horror, fear and lust all intertwined to cloud my mind and rob of the ability – and even the will – to resist.  This couldn’t be happening – not to me, not to Melissa Windeyer!
 
But it was.  The pack began to close in on me.
 
Suddenly a voice cut through the rushing of blood in my ears.  “What’s all this?”  Someone shoved one of the pack aside.  Through eyes filled with tears of terror, I saw Cesaire, the man I’d met here in Galeforce, the night I’d beaten Britney, the same night Ms Justeen had made me hers – step up to the edge of the table.  “Melissa?”  There was a hard edge to his voice.  “What are they doing to you?”
 
I couldn’t speak.  All I could do was look at him beseechingly.
 
“Whatever it is,” he continued, speaking to Jade and Nikki, “it stops now.” 

Jade glared at him.  "Stay out of this.  It's none of your business."  She took a step toward me and reached for my hair.  I shrank away from her.

Cesaire caught her wrist.  He shook his head firmly.  "I'm making it my business," he said, staring into her eyes.

Jade's face was as dark as thunder, but withdrew her hand.  The pack began to melt away, drifting back to the continuing spectacle around Angela.  She gave me a malevolent look.  "You'll keep."  She spun on her heel and walked away.  I was never so glad to be dismissed as I was right then.
 
Cesaire smiled down at me.  “It’s ok,” he said reassuringly.  I sobbed with relief when I felt his strong arms slide under my neck and my knees, lifting me off the table.  He kissed me.  His lips tasted wonderful.  “Come on.”  He turned away from the table with me in his arms, and what was left of those the crowd who’d been about to enjoy my humiliation, parted before him.  “Let me take you away from all these nasty people.”  He carried me, weeping, from the room.
 

[GoldenGirl]

Ohhh  Myyyyy, Jenn - this has everything!

Beautifully crafted....so very descriptive....explosive temperaments..  the implied threat of violence...sexual attraction....sexual aggression...and more....much more!

Very well done....keep up your great works....and THANK YOU for sharing this!!

GG

[peccavi]

Vindication

“But Césaire – ” It had been at least an hour since he'd rescued me from that horrid, evil Jade and her cruel subbie Nikki. He'd gathered me in his arms and taken me to one of the upstairs rooms that made Ronaldo my club of choice. No need to make out in corners or to run the risk of being  exposed as that bitch Lauren had done when Arthur Wellesley and I were having some together time. No, Ronaldo had bedrooms with clean linen and  ensuite bathrooms.
 
Once inside the room and away from that horrid jeering crowd, I'd knelt and given Césaire a blow job as a thankyou.  I'd teased him, bobbing back on my knees so the tip of his shaft rested on my lips. Then I'd flick the tip with my tongue till he groaned. I slid my mouth forward, taking him again. He'd come quickly, even though I'd used my best technique to prolong his pleasure. He was too aroused by the scene he'd just witnessed downstairs.
 
So was I. I was far too aroused – far too dangerously aroused – for my own good. So I'd gone to the shower and washed myself clean with cold water. I'd shampooed my hair before another cold douche to calm me further. But that wasn't all I’d done. Again Ronaldo proved just how it met a girl's requirements. There was a small washing machine, ideal for one or two outfits and a dryer. I'd put my soiled and grubby clothes on to wash before showering. They still had about fifteen minutes to go when I got out. I wrapped myself in a towel and headed back to Césaire. He was obviously pleased to see me – but who wouldn't be. He'd just had Melissa Windeyer suck him off. There were only a few men who could say that. And no man who could say that had ever had better head then what I gave. But then I am Melissa Windeyer.
 
I stepped out of the towel and stood there letting him look at me for a moment before I went to him and undid his shirt, his belt and his zipper. He took me in his arms and hoisted me slightly, pushing me against the wall. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my feet around his hips, pulling him against me – into me.
 
I met his upward thrusts, lowering myself on him. My mouth sought his.  I welcomed his tongue as it licked and stroked inside my mouth just as I welcomed his shaft thrusting inside my pussy. I rode him a little longer; he wasn't as desperately excited as he'd been when I sucked him off. I clenched my pussy muscles to heighten the sensation.  He broke the kiss, gasping, “You're such a hottie...a real scorcher. “ A moment later he came.
 
He let me down.  I went back into the bathroom, grabbed my wet clothes and flung them in the dryer.  They were cotton so they wouldn't take long to dry. I snuggled beside him, thanking him for rescuing me, telling him how cruel Jade had been to take advantage of my momentary weakness and reminding him of how I'd beat Jade in any even battle. I returned to expressions of gratitude. Inside every guy there is a white knight intent on rescuing damsels in distress. I played the helpless woman, grateful for her rescue. It had worked well for me in the past. I'd gotten many a meal, a bracelet or a necklace as the men expressed their gratitude too.
 
Of course I'd worked for those trinkets – just as I worked again then. After about fifteen minutes of chatting with me nestling under his arm, I kissed him deeply and stroked his member back into life. I shifted myself so I was sitting astride him.  Then I rose, eased him into me and rode him again.
 
I was expecting another round of cuddling afterwards, so imagine my dismay when, a short time after giving Césaire great sex yet again – for the third time in an hour – and with the promise of more to come, he told me I had to go  back down to the bar.   He cut off my protests, demanding that I dress and follow him.  “Or I'll pick you up as you are and carry you downstairs naked!  It's time to cash those cheques your mouth wrote. You said you'd beat Jade in an even fight. Now prove it.”
 
Of course I was Melissa Windeyer and of course –  normally – I’d  have no trouble putting that weak little switch where she belonged. But this wasn't 'normal'. As I tried to point out to Césaire, I'd been shocked and horrified by what I'd seen, so shocked that Jade and her sub Nikki had been able to take advantage of me when they never should have. Even in the state I was in, I'd have been able to handle one of them but I was double teamed.
 
It didn’t make any difference to Césaire. “Melissa, I don't want to hear your excuses. Get dressed or not only will I carry you out as you are, I'll personally hand you over to Jade.”
 
I shivered but what was I to do other than get dressed? Césaire was being so cruel to me!  But I did as I was told. I took care with dressing, with my makeup. After all, I was the infinitely sexy and adorable Melissa Windeyer.  Hadn't I just proved it yet again? Césaire wouldn't have bothered rescuing Jade or Nikki as he had rescued – yes I admitted that was the right word – me. No, Jade or Nikki would have been left to be used as they deserved. I summoned up my courage and sashayed down to the bar, one hand on my sexy hip as I entered. I surveyed the room for a moment.
 
There was Nikki sitting on some guy's lap.  No doubt he had his tongue halfway down her throat and his hand up between her thighs.  A further survey showed that Jade was nowhere in sight.  I was in luck! But then, as they say, fortune favours the bold. I knew that Nikki was no match for me.  She was small – only about five foot three and slightly built too – no more than a hundred pounds wringing wet.  She was a weak subbie too – even Cassie Foxe had beaten her. I smiled to myself. I would show the whisperers, those who'd not even an hour ago had said I was finished.
 
I strode over towards Nikki who sat astride the guy with her arms around his neck. They were kissing, oblivious to me.  The first Nikki knew that Ms Melissa Windeyer was back was when I grabbed her by her hair. “Excuse me please,” I said to the startled guy, “this nothing and I have some unfinished business. I'll give her back to you...what's left of her anyway...when I'm finished.”  Even as I spoke I was yanking Nikki away.
 
She tried to stand.  Holding onto her tightly and yanking hard, I swept one of my shapely legs under hers. My combined manoeuvre knocked her off her  feet even as she was gaining them. She sprawled on the floor with me still holding her hair. I jerked hard. She squealed as she tried to turn around to face me. I expected that though, and kicked her in her scrawny stomach. She squealed again. I yanked her hair sharply, pulling her up to her knees. I swung my knee into her stomach, once, twice, three times. Each time she squealed in pain though the last squeal was more of a gasp as she had run out of air by that time. 
 
She tried to push me away. I batted her hands aside. I slapped her face. She winced at the stinging blow. “Not so tough,” my slap whipped her face to the side, “without Jade,” I slammed my knee into her stomach again, “are you, Nikki?” I slapped her face again. “No,” I kneed her again, “you're a pathetic weak little slut!”
 
I cast her away. She fell on the floor, whimpering. I ground my heel into her stomach. “Go on!  Cry, you baby!” I hissed. I felt deliciously moist between my thighs. It had been such an easy victory. I turned to her guy and kissed him. Of course, he responded warmly. After all, I’m Melissa Windeyer. “She's all yours again...if you want her, that is? I'm sorry, I wish I could stay but I have things to do, people to see.” I kissed him again and sashayed off, dusting my hands and smiling broadly. I'd disposed of that trash without raising a sweat.  Even better, I'd done it in public. Everyone could see that, even after that little hiccup less than an hour ago, Ms Melissa Windeyer was indeed back
 
But best of all was something quite unexpected. “Oh Ms Melissa!” Holly gushed, “You handled Nikki so well!  That was amazing!”
 
“Amazing, pet?” I arched my eyebrows.  “Surely you expected nothing less from your Mistress.” I locked my eyes on hers.  “Surely you know how strong and powerful I am.”  I smiled, willing my gaze to be as cold  as an iceberg.
 
Holly’s face fell.  She whimpered. “Oh no! I didn't mean I was amazed to see you beat her! It was the way you did it, so forceful, so brutal.“ She dropped her voice. “It made me shiver Ms.  It made me wet.”
 
I smiled and patted her cheek. ”That's ok pet. Now go along and get me a drink. Yes, a Kinross Special.”
 
I strolled over to Césaire.  “I cashed that cheque,” I said and kissed him. He slid his arm around my sexy waist, pulling me close. I squirmed against him, feeling his shaft rise. He wanted me all over again – but he'd have to do more than want me. He stroked my butt. “See?” I said.  “I did as I said I would. I destroyed Nikki and Jade is no match for me either.. I almost think I should thank you for the opportunity to prove myself. But no,” I shook my head, making my shoulder-length brown tresses shimmer in the light, ”I think you had such a good time seeing me destroy her.” I kissed him deeply as Holly came back with my drink.
 
“Ms, did you see Lisa Kraus over at the bar?” I looked where Holly pointed. There was that nothing I'd routed on the beach last summer, that subbie who I'd worked over in this very bar and who not even a month ago had wormed her way into Arthur Wellesley's affections. Arthur, being a gentleman, had taken me back to his place after Lauren Wicklelby had so cruelly and underhandedly defeated me in the Crystal Garden bar. Lisa had tagged along. At first I’d thought she was being a good subbie, helping her mistress who'd had a temporary setback.  I’d been so pleased when they began to worship me at Arthur’s place. But the little snake had other things on her mind. She'd excited me so much that I couldn't think straight, and then she’d played me so that I became their willing sex slave. She’d even had the gall to go off with Arthur into his bedroom, leaving me outside.
 
I seethed with fury. I ground my nails into my palms.
 
“She said you only picked on weaklings like Nikki, Ms,” Holly continued.  “She said you’re just a bully.”
 
“And you let her say horrid untruths like that?” I was shocked. What was Holly thinking?
 
“Err...Ms...” Holly gulped.
 
I tapped my foot. “Holly, you and I are going to have words with Lisa. I’m giving you the opportunity to redeem yourself – to do what you should have done...to defend your Mistress's honour.”  I kissed Césaire again. “I'll be back,” I smiled at him.  “Don't go anywhere.”  I took Holly back to the bar.
 
Lisa saw us coming.  “Well well...hello Melissa.  You're back again...you and your...protector.” The sneer was evident in her voice.  “Yes, I know you were about to be used, over there on that table.” She flung a finger in the air, pointing at the spot where Césaire had rescued me from Jade's clutches.
 
Despite myself, I squirmed inwardly at the thought of what had so nearly happened. I couldn't let anything happen to me – not now, not when I'd just regained some kudos by destroying Nikki so easily. I glared at Holly, who just stood there. Stupid girl.  She should have been defending me.  I was her mistress - she owed me. But she wasn't doing anything except standing there, smiling. Was she testing me?
 
Of course I knew I could defeat Lisa – I’d done so before – but I’d come so near to being destroyed earier this evening.  I’d beat Lisa but I'd be weakened by the effort.  What would happen if Jade came back?  No, the right thing to do was to ignore this flea-bite. I'd made a mistake in coming over.  She wasn't worth my time. I turned on my heel.
 
But Lisa went on. “No I'm wrong...you and your new protector. Arthur got wise to you. He knows you're nothing but a weak bully, a wannabe Domme. Yeah, no one but a weak bully would pick on Nikki the way you just did! Picking on a weak sub and even then, not giving her an even chance...pulling her off a guy's lap without a moment to defend herself.  You wouldn't do that to Jade!  You'd be too scared.  You wouldn't do that to me. Oh no, Arthur saw through you. So now you need a new protector. Still, it won’t be long before he tires of you too.
 
I couldn't let that pass.  I ground my teeth trying to think of something to do or say. I so wanted to rip this bitch apart.  I could – I knew it. But what would happen if I had a hard time of it, if I was tired, worn out and then someone else came along and took advantage of me?
 
Then Lisa she gave me my answer. She turned to Holly.  “So Holly...how does it feel to be a bully's bully, the sex slave of a sex slave?  You were once a Domme yourself, and you’ve got more brains in your big toe than she has in her bubble head. How low you sank!” She laughed out loud.  “Melissa Windeyer's toy.”
 
Lisa smirked as she looked Holly over. “You used to be strong.  You used to have girls in tow. Now look at you.”  She tossed her head contemptuously as she let her eyes run down the ex-Domme’s body.  ”Pah..look at you, at Melissa's beck and call.  Melissa, who’s been slutted here, there and everywhere...Melissa who needs your protection.  But here you are, running after like a simpering, dripping little slut! You could fight once...you had other girls once.  Now you couldn’t fight  your way out of a pair of your own cum-soaked panties!”
 
“You can't take that, Holly!  She's insulting you.” I didn't need to say any more. The English girl was – at last – stepping forward.  I sighed with relief as she slapped Lisa's face hard.
 
Lisa was ready for it.  She'd expected one of us – either Holly or I – to hit out. Almost instantly she responded with a punch that ploughed into Holly’s stomach. Thankfully Holly that night was wearing her leather corset – she often wore that when she lectured and was going out straight from the college. As she had said, she could hardly wear the outfits I'd made her buy in a lecture hall.
 
I'd pouted when she said that.  After all, Ms Justeen made me wear the outfit I was in now – the outfit that got me into trouble – but what could I do about it? I'd tried to push Holly a little harder but she'd simply refused. Yes, she'd made me back off! I'd gritted my teeth then at her defiance  but now  in the bar I was grateful that Holly had worn that corset.   It absorbed the belly blow.
 
What it didn't absorb was Lisa's hard slap on Holly's face. Holly's head rocked, then she stumbled back as Lisa slammed her palms into Holly's pathetic little rack.  Holly stumbled and Lisa pressured her, raining slaps on her face and shoulders.  I gulped.  This couldn't be happening.  Lisa couldn't fight this well, not against Holly.
 
But it was. Lisa seemed to brush Holly's slaps aside as her own rained down on my subbie with a rhythm that would even have done me credit. Lisa had clearly learned from how I’d opened my fight against her, how I'd punished her in the opening moments. She swung from the hips, putting her whole body into each slap.  Like a rotating door the slaps hit, left hand on Holly's right cheek or shoulder, right hand on Holly's left side. Holly was reeling.
 
I clenched my teeth tight, willing Holly to counter attack.  It took a while but after perhaps thirty seconds, in which she'd absorbed maybe a dozen slaps, she did. She did what she should have done first. She ducked and punched Lisa' s scrawny navel  That only slowed Lisa's attack, of course.  If it had been me hitting her, it would have stopped Lisa in her tracks. Holly just wasn't up to my standard.
 
Lisa pressed her attacks, trying to hit Holly's upper body where the corset didn't protect her. That limited her movements and after she'd recovered from that first blistering rain of slaps, Holly began to defend better. She brought her arms up, batting away many of Lisa's slaps. A few got through but Holly was prepared for them, swinging her head to minimise their effect.
 
I gripped my hands together with excitement as Holly began to hit back. While she mixed her blows up, she aimed most of them at Lisa's skinny, undernourished stomach. Almost instantly she had success.  Lisa gasped and groaned as Holly's  punches hit her hard.  Now it was Holly forcing Lisa to defend – and defend she did, dodging and weaving, deflecting Holly's blows so that few thudded home. But Lisa wasn't attacking as she had been.
 
The two women settled in, trading blows. I remembered how Lisa had made me work hard for my win.  Not that there had ever been any doubt that I'd defeat her – I am Melissa Windeyer – but she'd pummelled my sensuously curving stomach hard and made me gasp and retreat before counter-attacking.
 
Now though, her similar tactics failed. She couldn't damage Holly the way she’d done to me. Holly's leather corset was like armour. Lisa's blows had no effect apart from tiring her out, and the senseless birdbrain took way too long to realise it. She seemed to think that repeating the same moves often enough would bring her success in the end. 
 
It didn't.  Holly hammered her again and again with solid punches. Lisa defended well, but less so with every passing moment. More of Holly's blows hit home.  She picked her shots well, mixing up her blows intelligently.  Some were aimed at Lisa's chest. some at her gut. Each of the punches that hit – and it was still less than half – wrung a gasp or a groan from the blonde.
 
Holly changed her attack and began to focus on her enemy's gut. Lisa was slow to react, allowing Holly to hit her hard, several times. The fourth blow made Lisa double up. She gagged, still half folded. Then as the blonde finally stood up again, Holly sent a roundhouse punch that hammered Lisa's jaw. She followed with an uppercut that hit Lisa's chin and sent the blonde sprawling backwards.
 
“Lisa's in la la land!” a guy chuckled. I turned to see the guy who’d had Nikki sitting on his lap before. I smiled invitingly.  Stealing Nikki's guy, even for a few moments, would underline just how superior I was to her.  After all, Césaire was nowhere to be seen. He needed to be reminded that I was the oh-so-desirable Melissa Windeyer and that guys lined up to worship me.
 
“She's making Lisa eat her fists,” the guy added.  He smiled at me.  “Hey...I'm Dan.”  I gave him a second smile, then turned back to the fight.
 
Holly was all over Lisa. She lashed out with her right fist at the blonde's stomach. Lisa just managed to brush it aside so it struck her side and did little damage.  Lisa’s parry left her open to Holly's left, which ploughed into her face. Lisa whimpered. “Don't worry,” Holly sneered, “there's lots more coming your way!”
 
Lisa’s head snapped to the side as Holly made good on her promise.  She nailed Lisa with a right cross to her jaw that made the blonde’s eyes roll back in her head, followed up a stiff left to her chest.
 
“She's making Lisa feel her wrath,” Dan said, wrapping his hand around my waist.
 
“Not so fast, please Dan!” I warned him.  “I hardly know you!”  I was Melissa Windeyer, not some easy slut like Nikki! I stepped away a pace or so.  ”Finish her!” I encouraged Holly.
 
Holly grabbed Lisa's shoulder and pulled the little fluffball closer.  She buried her other fist in Lisa's scrawny stomach and left it there for a few seconds. Only that fist and Holly's hold on her shoulder kept Lisa on her feet. Holly withdrew her fist at last and Lisa crumpled to the floor.
 
I stepped up and hugged Holly.  “You did so well, pet!”
 
“Thank you Ms.” Holly kissed me gently.
 
I took Lisa by the hair. “Stand up girl!” I hissed. Lisa did so, shakily. “Parade her Holly, then take her to the shower.”  It was so good seeing a humiliated, beaten Lisa subjected to catcalls and sneers as Holly slowly marched her round the room.
 
It was time to see where Césaire was. It took me a while. He was sitting at a table with some men. I put my arm around his shoulder and made to sit on his lap but he stopped me. “Not now Melissa, please.  I'm busy.”
 
I pouted.  But Césaire, honey...” I kissed him. I squirmed in his lap.
 
Melissa, I'm busy at the moment,” he repeated firmly.
 
"But Césaire, didn't you see me take Nikki?  Didn't you see how I got Holly to fight Lisa?” I half sat in his lap again. He couldn't prefer these old men and their boring talk about business or politics or whatever it was to me – Melissa Windeyer!
 
”Yes I did, but just now I'm busy,” he said patiently.  “I'll be with you when I’m finished with these people. Now be a good girl and run along.”
 
“Don't you want to congratulate me?”
 
He turned to his friends. “Excuse me for one moment.” He slid his arms under mine, brushing my encircling arm away from around his neck.  “Why should I congratulate you?” he half whispered. “You haven't done what you said you'd do.” I looked at him open mouthed. He shoved my butt off his lap. I almost fell. I was about to protest – no guy treats Melissa Windeyer like that, especially a guy who has just enjoyed my favours.  His next words stung me. “No, you haven't confronted Jade again. And,” he paused,” you said you would!  Now run along.”
 
I walked toward the bar. Along my way I passed Debbi, a little red haired fluffball who I knew from Chatro. She was so weak even Nikki beat her up. But tonight she was feisty. “Ho, Melissa, got the sulks?“ I glowered at this little nothing but she continued, “Looks like your Romeo is busy.  Awww...poor Melissa!”
 
I couldn't take that. I closed on this little nothing. I'd put her in her place. “You think you're so tough, Melissa. So you beat up Nikki.  Like, as if that's hard! But what about Jade?”
 
“What about her?” I snapped.  “She's not here.”  I grabbed Debbi by the shoulder. I smiled.  I was about to show – once more – that Melissa Windeyer was back.
 
But instead I heard, “Are you so sure, Melissa Windeyer? Picking on little subbies...about your style.”
 
I whirled around, leaving Debbi alone. There was Jade, right in front of me. “Uffff!” She’d punched my full curvy stomach. I felt air and spit pour from my mouth. A moment later, the pain struck. By then I was reeling on my heels from a second punch almost in the same place. This couldn’t be happening to me! But it was.
 
Debbie giggled gleefully. “Serves you right for what you did to Nikki.”
 
I‘d almost doubled over from the two blows. I stumbled away with Jade in hot pursuit, firing punches at my head. They hit and my head rang. But I’m Melissa Windeyer and I knew how to fight back. I crouched down low just as an overconfident Jade sent another punch aimed at my head. It just kissed the top. Stretched out, Jade was unable to stop my own left and right punches which powered into her stomach. She stepped back, breathing hard.
 
I knew that I’d had at best checked her attack.  I had to regroup and launch a counter attack – fast – but the blonde slut didn’t let me. She charged forward again while i was still recovering from her deceitful, unprovoked attack. She swung punches at my head and body. It was all I could do to fend some – and only some – of them off.  Far too many landed.  I gasped and groaned as the barrage of punches pummelled my body.
 
I could hear a buzz of excitement.  I saw, briefly because I knew better than to take my eyes off my enemy, the press of people watching the fight. There was that fluffball Debbi, hopping eagerly, cheering Jade on.  There was Nikki, licking her lips.  She thought Jade was winning. There was Ms T, looking on quizzically. There were few supporting me.
 
But I wasn’t dismayed.  I remembered Ms Justeen's confidence in me when she told Jade that she was a hyena, picking on me only when I'd been weakened, and when Ms Justeen had told everyone that I'd eat Jade in any fair fight. I was going to prove Ms Justeen right – right now. I'd  been in worse positions than this before and gone on to win.  After all. I was Melissa Windeyer and simply smarter than other women.
 
I pretended – and to be honest it wasn’t hard – to let Jade think she had me on the ropes for a moment.  Then, just as I had done when fighting – and of course beating that fluffball Vivian Nimue – I bobbed down. Jade’s blows again passed over my head. She quickly brought her fists down to protect her stomach – she wasn’t that stupid, but I was still smarter. The fool thought I’d try to hit her there again but of course she underestimated me.
 
Instead I stuck my hand under her skirt and clawed her thighs. I felt my nails break her skin. I stabbed my fingers in as deep as I could and pulled them down, ripping Jade’s flesh. I felt blood trickle out just as Jade shrieked with pain. She froze and I wrapped my other arm round her knees and shoved my body forward. My head hit her arms, still defensively guarding her stomach. I drove them back against her body and kept shoving till Jade stumbled and fell, wailing, to the floor on her back
 
I scurried over to complete my victory, but Jade kicked out and her heel stabbed deep into my stomach. I felt nauseous.  My stomach churned.  I staggered back gasping.
 
Jade got to her feet.  She stood there, her chest heaving as she tried to get her breath back – I must have half winded her. I attacked, slapping, swinging from my hips, striking at her face and upper body. For a few seconds she didn’t react.  It was as if she was surprised that I was attacking her. I slapped freely and her head snapped back and forth as my blows hit.
 
Then she started to parry. Still, many of my slaps hit home, eliciting a gasp or groan. She launched a kick. I stepped back and she missed. But then she started to slap back. Her kick had messed with my rhythm. We stood trading slaps. I knew from her pained expression, her groans that she was suffering more than I was. I knew that I only had to keep the pressure up and I’d have the fight won. But I also knew that Jade was a wily bitch and she’d try anything – underhand or not –to avoid defeat.
 
Jade's head snapped to one side.  She gave out a loud long low “ooh” instead of the grunts she'd emitted before. Her eyes rolled back. She staggered. I scurried in to put her away. I tried to grab her body to pull her close to me. I was going to do to her as Holly had done so effectively to Lisa – punch her stupid. Of course I didn't have to punch that hard.  Compared to me, Jade was stupid!
 
As I slid my arm around her to hold her in place I felt a sudden horrid sting – a searing pain in my arm like the worst wasp sting magnified a hundred fold.  I squealed. Jade had bitten my arm! It was bleeding. She spat something out- I hope it was just spit but I guessed it was really flesh – my flesh – as well. I
 
I staggered back holding my bitten arm. The dirty cruel bitch attacked me, sending a punch to my chin that whipped my head back. I felt light headed.  The slaps she'd delivered had been horrid enough.  I'd all but seen flashing lights and heard bells inside my head as she hit me, but this was worse. I was dizzy. My arms windmilled as I tried to stay on my feet.
 
Again I dimly heard the crowd. Those horrid people were jeering!  They were saying Jade had given me what I deserved!  Some said that her bite wasn't as dirty as my claw on her thigh.  Again I reminded myself how Ms Justeen had said that Jade was an hyena, always picking on weakened girls. But I heard others again say that Jade was only giving me what I deserved – not for fighting dirty but for picking on Debbi and Nikki. Then I remembered Ms Justeen's comment to Jade that  Jade was just like me in both ways – dirty fighting and picking on weaklings.  In my mind I heard her parting comment to Jade “Yes, just like Melissa herself, really. I suppose I can’t blame you for trying to give her some of her own medicine.“
 
I gritted my teeth. I told myself that there were people supporting me out there, there had to be.  I’m Melissa Windeyer!  People worshipped me. But who?  I was sure Holly was loyal, and there was Césaire too. That jolted me. I had to win.  I had to prove to Césaire that I could win, that my promise to beat Jade wasn’t just empty bragging.  It had to show him it was the sober truth.
 
Jade pressured me again, swinging punches at me. I kicked at her thigh, the same thigh I’d already gouged. She dodged my kick but had to back off. That gave me a moment to recover myself. I backed off too, breathing hard but all too soon Jade came after me again. I dodged some of her punches but others – too many – hit home. Each made me gasp.
 
I struck back too, aiming mainly at Jade's scrawny stomach. Some of my blows hit and they made Jade groan.  I hit hard. But I wasn’t hitting often enough. Jade dodged most of my shots. I began to edge back, telling myself that I was simply weaving around her blows. But soon I had to admit Jade had me on the run. I was reeling from her blows. This was not how it should be. I'd been on top till Jade bit me. That one dirty blow had turned the fight around.
 
I summoned my reserves of strength and rallied. I sidestepped Jade’s next blow. My quick move deceived her and her fist hurtled past me. I struck, my knee swinging up into her thigh. It hit and Jade faltered. I struck again and my fist slammed into Jade's midriff. She groaned and slumped forward. I smiled. This was more like it! Melissa Windeyer had out thought her foe.  Now I'd capitalise.
 
I pressed my attack with blows to Jade's middle. She was suffering now.  Each of my punches made her groan. I brushed aside most of her attempts to hit back. She was still dodging or parrying a lot of my blows but I was wearing her down.
 
“Arrgh!” I staggered.  My eyes must have rolled back because for a second everything went black. Jade's uppercut had ploughed into my chin. A fraction of a second later my legs gave out. I dropped to the floor and rolled away, trying desperately to avoid the blonde.
 
I managed to haul myself up to my feet by grabbing a table. My vision was blurred.  I seemed to see two Jades. I staggered away. Jade came after me and I just barely dodged her blows.  I was so tired.  My arms were heavy.  I panted.  I could feel sweat flowing down my shoulders and chest. I told myself Jade must be no better – but then who was I kidding?  Jade was strong and had stamina.  She played volleyball.
 
My stomach churned and fluttered as I felt the first fires of that horrid lust flare up – the lust to surrender, to be used and abused.  Jade's smile told me she knew. She came for me. Her fist hammered my sexy curving middle forcing air and spit from my mouth. My stomach churned again. Despairingly I tried to block out my weakness.  I’m Melissa Windeyer! I thought of icebergs. Then Jade's fist struck again.   I saw it coming but I knew I'd be too slow to block it. It speared into my navel, just over my diamond piercing. Again my legs gave out and I slumped to my knees.
 
Jade cackled.  It was such a horrid sound. It sent chills through me.  But it was nothing compared to  Césaire's words. “She's done for.  Poor Melissa, she tries but her mouth...and her ego...writes cheques her body just can't cash.” He sounded sorrowful, but he made me angry.  I didn't want his pity! I wanted his worship – his adoration!  I’m Melissa Windeyer, so incomparably more sexy, more desirable than Jade Wrest!
 
I lunged forward, again clawing at Jade's thighs. She squealed and dropped back a pace. I shuffled forward on my knees, clawing deeper, digging furrows in her firm thighs.  But then she grabbed my hair. I knew what was coming.  She’d haul me up and knee my stomach.  That would be it for me.  I'd have to surrender – but that just couldn't happen.
 
I had one chance. I turned my hand around and clawed Jade's pussy.  My fingers burrowed under her panties. I ripped her folds. Jade didn’t yelp or squeal this time – she screamed. She stumbled, her knees buckled as her hands went to clutch her ravaged cxnt.  She forgot all about me, lost in her own pain.
 
I stood up and faced her. I heard a buzz – people were aghast at me and what I’d just done.  I didn’t care.  That claw was no lower than Jade's bite.
 
Jade still had her hands on her cxnt when I fired a punch. I put my all into it. It hit Jade's chin.  Her head flew up and back. I sent another one, equally hard, at her chin again. Jade swung her head to dodge it but it still struck her cheek.  She reeled. I knew then that Jade was almost as tired as I was. I knew too that I'd prove Césaire wrong. I had to!
 
I sent a punch at Jade's middle. She deflected It but I drove my knee up into her thigh. It struck and she dropped back. I drove my knee up again, this time into her gut. She shook and her legs almost gave out. I sent another punch into her middle. This time it landed.  Jade emitted a loud, long sigh. Swinging from the hips and putting all my weight and remaining strength behind it, I slapped hard at Jade's face. She dropped. I kicked at her as she went down, hammering her middle once again.
 
She didn't get up.
 
I inwardly sighed with relief. It had been so close, yet of course I – Melissa Windeyer – had prevailed.
 
I so wanted to slut Jade, to use her as she had tried to use me before, but I was too tired, too vulnerable.  I was scared of her turning on me.
 
I stumbled over to Césaire, who wrapped me in his strong arms. “Honey, I was wrong.  You did cash those cheques.”  He hugged me for a moment, kissing me before lifting me from my feet and carrying me out of the room. “It's time for me to promise you another opal pendant and for you to redeem that other promise...the one you made just to me.”  His grin was full of anticipatory lust.
 
I smiled at the thought of the great sex I'd give him and of the opal that he'd give me, that tomorrow would hang snugly between my breasts.