Ruby by Heather Burnside (carter reed txt) 📗

her Mistress Ruby persona. He didn’t hesitate in crossing over the threshold while Ruby shut the door.

She had been working as a dominatrix for a few months now and it was going well, the number of clients gradually increasing. Once she had got the first few clients out of the way she became much more confident in her new role. She was getting to know each of them and their particular fetishes and, she liked to think, they went away happy. The repeat business was evidence of that. The only problem she had up to now was that some clients asked for things she couldn’t offer because the equipment required was too big to fit inside her spare bedroom.

As the client stepped inside, Ruby noticed her neighbour opposite. She had only lived there a few weeks and hadn’t been particularly friendly since she moved in, often just returning a swift hello but refusing to engage in conversation.

The way the neighbour looked at her drew Ruby’s attention to what she was wearing. Normally Tiffany would answer the door to avoid Ruby being spotted in her dominatrix gear but today she had had to go out. Looking across at the neighbour, Ruby felt she had no alternative other than to brazen it out.

‘Hi, alright?’ she said, but the neighbour didn’t reply; instead she quickly slammed the door shut.

It was obvious the woman wasn’t impressed by Ruby’s attire. But there was no time to think about that now; she had a client to tend to so she went into the spare room where she found the man already sitting on the bed, and ready to get down to business. She got to work straightaway, placing a dog-collar around his neck, and then telling him he had to address her as Mistress Ruby at all times and do exactly as he was ordered.

Ruby stood at well over six feet in her spiky-heeled, thigh-high boots. Dressed in a black rubber catsuit that clung to her feminine but toned physique and melded seamlessly into the dark leather boots, she was Amazonian in stature.

She looked down at the diminutive man sitting cowered before her and yanked the chain of his dog-collar, a faint smirk of amusement lighting up her strained features as she watched his keen reaction.

‘I want you over that stool, NOW!’ she commanded.

‘Yes,’ said the man, nodding obsequiously.

‘Yes, what?’ she asked.

‘Yes, Mistress Ruby,’ the man replied, anxious to please.

She pulled sharply on the chain and led him over to a stool placed beneath a rack full of her instruments of torture.

‘Bend over!’ she ordered, selecting a wooden paddle from the row of implements. It was less likely to mark than a leather one although far more painful.

He had no sooner bent over the stool than she let the chain fall loose in her hand while she paddled him viciously on his behind, gaining immense gratification as the man yelled in pain. She gauged his reaction just to the point where he could take no more then she put down the paddle and yanked the chain again.

As soon as he was on his feet, Ruby kicked the stool out of the way. The man jumped as the stool crashed and bounced along the black vinyl floor of Mistress Ruby’s dungeon, and she felt a frisson of excitement. Now for the next stage.

Ruby grabbed a whip from the rack. Like her boots, it was black leather. It had a sturdy wooden handle and fanned out into multiple tails, each capable of delivering a harsh stroke to exposed flesh. Perfect. Because Ruby knew there were some days when only the whip would do.

‘Turn your back to me and stand still!’ she ordered, and her client quickly complied.

She stepped back and brought the whip down onto the man’s bare back. He yelled. Ruby gave him only a second to recover before bringing the whip down again, drawing satisfaction at the sight of red weals beginning to form on his back and the lashing sound as the whip slashed through the air.

After five lashes of the whip, she gave the man a break. She always did this; it gave her clients a chance to decide whether they wanted to continue or whether they had had enough for the day. She could see his body tense and then relax as he drew in a deep breath.

‘Do you want more?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

She tutted. ‘Yes, Mistress Ruby. What have I told you?’

‘Sorry. Yes, Mistress Ruby.’

‘It’s not good enough. That’s twice you’ve disobeyed me by not using my name. It’s time you were really punished.’

Without waiting for the man to react, she brought the whip down on his back five times in quick succession. Then she stopped again, allowing him to recover.

‘Are you going to obey me in future?’ she asked.

But the man didn’t reply. Instead, to her astonishment, he quickly spun round. Then he grabbed the tails of the whip and dragged it out of her hand.

‘My turn,’ he said, leering at her. He nodded at the zipper on the front of her catsuit. ‘Open it. I want to see you in the flesh,’ he demanded.

‘Get back!’ she yelled. ‘Mistress Ruby hasn’t given you permission. Only Mistress Ruby can give orders.’

She desperately hoped that he was still prepared to act out his role. But the look on his face told her otherwise. He was fevered with excitement, his eyes wide and teeth bared, and it was obvious from looking at him that he couldn’t wait to get started on her.

Ruby quickly reached out to the rack and grabbed the dark handle of the knife she had secreted behind the other implements. She flicked a switch and the blade shot out just as the whip came crashing down on her face. Ignoring the smarting pain, she grabbed the tails with her other hand and pulled, closing the gap between her and the man. Then she shoved the knife up to his throat, nicking the flesh till a stream of blood ran down to his