The Brand Ch. 02

"Alright then. Now get up and wash your ass off my finger."

Victria carefully withdrew the first and last of her fingers from inside her help's ass, and then rose to her feet. With guarded effort, Melody also made her way to standing, and then joined Victria at the sink; her glistening finger pointing toward the stop. Her heart pounding in her chest, her breathing rapid, Melody set the tap to a decently hot temperature, and then took Victria's soiled finger. Glancing into the mirror above the sink, she saw that they were both flushed red in their faces and necks. She tried not to look directly in Victria's smoldering eyes, though something in her was making it hard not to. After all, the road had been hard, the prospect of regular work certainly had its appeal, and then there was the phenomenon that was Victria herself: bold, powerful, utterly fearless and paradoxically tender; enough anyway. But the enforced nudity, the power play and the obvious sadomasochistic kink: how much could she, would she; bear?

Presently, having washed her mistress's finger clean, Melody reached for the towel and dried their hands. With that, her eyes still averted, Victria escorted her back into the kitchen. Melody caught herself still sniffling, and quickly stopped. They stood at the outer radius of the scattered shards of Melody's plate and glass, and she felt Victria's hard stare and her soft breathing against her right cheek.

"You will take care of this mess." Victria intoned; her words landing softly against Melody's ear, "You will remain naked for the rest of the day, and then you will not dress until I say so. You will finish organizing my shoes and my clothes. I expect a proper dinner when I return this evening and tomorrow morning I will be observing that you fetch my paper without a stitch on you. Do I have to repeat any of that?"

Silence grew between them once again. Victria waited patiently as Melody stuttered; pieces of words sputtering and dying in her throat, until she said:

"I was free where I was."

Victria watched Melody tense; bracing herself from whatever she thought would be coming. Oh you are too funny Cowboy, she thought. I know you're not that stupid, so... You're venturing to test me; is that it?

"Free; really? Whispered Victria, "Living on bottle return refund junk food? You are free Melody; free to leave at anytime. If you're still here, then I expect you to follow through with the directives I just related to you. Now just for that-"

Victria steered Melody toward the space of counter by the sink. Pausing by one of the drawers along the way, she sifted through the utensils inside, found what she was looking for, and then pushed the drawer closed.

"Lean over the counter." Commanded Victria.

Melody did as instructed, and then looked over her shoulder to see Victria washing what appeared to be a long, bulbous tipped solid glass pestle. As if by its own will, Melody felt her rectum clench. She looked away as Victria stepped behind her. With resolute feet, she kicked Melody's ankles further apart, and then moved in close. Melody shut her eyes tight in preparation. Again, she tried to relax as she felt the initial sensation of coolness breach her anus. Then she felt as if the glass dildo was being twisted while driven deeper. Melody suddenly felt such pressure that she tried to clench her teeth tight, but she couldn't, not, for some reason, without being able to clench her rectum as well. Presently, she felt some sudden new source of sensation, as if something had popped inside her ass. That didn't hurt; really, she thought. Shouldn't it hurt, at least a little more?

Melody turned to see Victria, her face a picture of perfect concentration. With that, Melody realized another feeling, its source still interior, but frontal. Am I? Is that? I think... Next Melody, Victria had reached a free hand to ply open her pussy, and then start a rhythm of circles round her quickly swelling clitoris. It wasn't much longer before Melody had deduced, as her face began to relax and her pussy began to drip, that Victria was rubbing her clitoris against the flat tapered end of the pestle. She felt the woman's chest against her back and her quickening breaths against her shoulder. Melody's flight into orgasm was fairly quick, not having had a decent one for over a year. She believed that there were just some things you couldn't or shouldn't get away with doing in homeless shelters. But in that moment, her ass filled with a rock solid cock of glass and her equally hard clit shooting jets of girl cream into Victria's fingers, Melody let herself go; whimpering and moaning with rapturous delight.

Later, in her corner office in the firm's executive suite, Victria reflected fondly on the memory of having come against Melody's scrumptiously round ass. It had been a good long time since she'd last indulged in such sweet domination. Victria took her personal tablet out from her bag, and unlocked it. Thinking of having left Melody to remove the big glass pestle herself and just walking away was the best close she could have put on that session. Now with her tablet, Victria went to her home security app to see what her slave was up to. Camera 1 was in the kitchen. Not there. She checked camera 2, 3 and 4; living room, dining room, and master bedroom, and there was still no sign of her.

Had she left? No. Why would she do that, and so soon after coming as hard as she had? Victria wondered if Melody's orgasm was as intense as it seemed in part because of the big glass dildo in her ass or in spite of it. She checked camera 5, the basement; though she'd instructed her not to venture in there. No; still nothing. Maybe she went back to sleep in the guest bedroom or maybe she was taking a shower. She had demanded, after all, that Melody trim her bush. Then Victria saw her live-in help, just entering the master bedroom, still naked, her head bound up in a towel, her dark brown pubic hair trimmed up in a neat strip. Good girl.

"Victria?"

She instantly looked up to see Simon Dobbs standing in her open doorway.

"Simon." She answered, flipping her tablet's cover shut and tucking it back into her bag, "What's up?"

"The Foster's Market account," said Simon, dressed in his every Friday steel gray suit with the ridiculous chrome tie, "We've decided to put that on your plate."

As if there was room asshole. Victria expected as much from Simon, and Dick, and Bruce, and James, the quartet she'd convinced to sing the Victria pitch to Colman Cheevers, the company's CEO. Sure we'll get you into the suite. We know you can handle the work. You're just the right sort of person for the position, but don't think for a minute that we're going to make your work life easy woman. You've got to prove yourself because even the smallest of our cocks are still bigger than yours.

"I'll take care of it Simon." She replied; a cold fire burning in her chest, "Anything for the team."

"Great to hear Victria." Said Simon as he advanced into the room, "So what are you up to this weekend?"

"I haven't thought about it. I don't know. I might just hit the course or go to the range; get some practice in with my .45."

"Nice!" said Simon; seeming amused, "You shoot?"

"I do." Lied Victria.

"Really? How long have you had your permit?"

"Seven years now."

"Seven years. How many guns; do you have?"

"Oh you know how it is Simon: if you can count how many guns you have, you don't have enough."

Simon was struck silent, raising one brow slightly. Victria smiled faked warmth in return.

"Right." Simon said, "Anyway, I wouldn't tell anyone else in the office that you shoot."

Yeah right dick weed. Like you're not going to blab it all over the place. Anyone that meant anything in the firm knew Victria had just renewed her pistol permit, but they didn't know that she had yet to actually buy a fire arm of her own . Getting the permit was a good thing to do for a variety of reasons, but primarily because she liked to know things she wasn't expected to know and it helped kick up the power impression factor, which seemed to be working that very moment with Simon.

"Duely noted Mr. Cobbs." Said Victria as she turned to look over the latest messages in her in-box displayed on her desktop monitor.

"So thanks for taking Foster's on." Intone Simon, as he backed toward the door.

"Not a problem Simon. Enjoy your weekend."

Victria was already digging her hand back into her bag as Simon stepped out into the suite proper. Flipping her tablet back open, she unlocked the screen and saw that Melody was working on uncovering the bedroom floor. She'd already cleared out a small corner of the room by the bed, and was now working her way around. Victria watched as she reached down and plucked a plum satin cocktail dress from atop a high pile of clothes. Melody shook it out, held it before her to admire its quality and design, and then smoothed it down across her chest as she turned to face herself in the bureau's mirror. Oh don't you even think about it missy. The rule is naked all day; remember?

Transfixed, Victria stared as Melody slipped her body into the dress, and then removed the towel from her head. Tossing the towel to the bed, she began to slowly swivel her hips and admire how nicely the dress fit her. Victria admired her too, certain that she was quite beautiful in it, but just as certain that Melody would catch Hell for having put it on. Victria had meant to tell her help about the cameras, but she'd somehow forgotten. So; there would be a price to pay, and Victria was already looking forward to facilitating the consequences to Melody's actions.

Setting her tablet on her lap, Victria reached her right hand back into her work bag and withdrew a black enameled strong box. Setting that too upon her lap, just in front of the tablet, she then retrieved her keys from her inside blazer pocket. Glancing at Melody now trying on her charcoal dress suit, Victria singled out a small key from the ring, and then unlocked the strong box. Lifting the lid, Victria revealed a set of four stuffed rag dolls, each garbed in his own business suit. There was Dick Rancourt, Bruce Duffy, James Ricchio and Simple Simon Dobbs. The Simon doll, of course, was wearing his customary Friday, kick off the weekend, chrome tie. Ricchio was stuffed a little more than the others in his tan suit. Duffy was in blue and Rancourt was the doll in black.

Victria lifted the Dobbs doll from the box, and then withdrew a pin from a little red foam stuffed cushion in the bottom of the box. Glancing quickly through her open door, Victria slowly drove the pin deep inside Simon's head. She'd never actually researched Voodoo. All she knew were the occasional references on television or in film. But she liked the idea, and wanted to find out if it actually worked. She reviewed the pins she'd left in the other dolls; Rancourt's chest, Ricchio's crotch and Duffy's stomach, and then locked them all back up in their box. Returning the box to her work bag, Victria fixed her attention back on her lovely, disobedient slave and proceeded to muse over exactly how she'd punish her later that night.

It was around two o'clock when Melody finally finished returning all of her mistress's clothes to hangers in the closet or tossing the most soiled and rumpled into the laundry hamper. She'd debated remaining in the last outfit she'd tried on for a bit longer, but didn't want to push her luck in case there were camera systems set up where she couldn't see them. So Melody returned to the shoe closet. But, before she got back to organizing the mess there, she located the ruby red slippers Victria had gifted to her, and then slipped back into them. Otherwise, she was totally bare, squeaky clean and neatly pubic trimmed.

Melody rested her hands on her hips, and then blew a halfheartedly exasperated breath as she surveyed the heaps and piles of shoes at her ruby slippered feet. It was good for her and Victria both that she enjoyed cleaning and organizing chaotic messes because she was certain the busy executive would always leave a mess in her wake. Melody found it soothing to clean and tidy up. It had always served to distract her into positive or even simply empty thought. It even allowed for some spiritual replenishment, but not enough of course; it would never be enough.

Presently, Melody got down to business. She started by taking the shoes she'd boxed the day before and hoisted them to the shelves that were waist high. Next, she proceeded to part the sea of footwear; dividing heels from flats and winter shoes from sports shoes. Gradually, she lost herself in the pairing two by two rhythm of organizing. Her mind conjured lingering thoughts of her mistress and rapid fire reflections of the experiences they'd shared so far. .

Melody paused, felt the weight of a sudden stupefaction pull her down to the floor, and then let drop the shoe she'd been holding. She'd become dazed, lost in her thoughts. She tried to wrap her mind around the astounding inconceivability of the last twenty-four hours, and couldn't. She'd succumbed to the undeniable, unfathomable truth of it all. Melody was rational enough to know that her relationship with Victria was evolving much, much too rapidly. Considering her behavior, and Victria's own audacity, Melody thought of them both as obviously insane; two perfectly crazy women, freely captive in the psych ward of their lives.

I am free to go at any time, Melody recalled Victria saying. Bull shit. Unlike you, I can't just twist my arms and legs temporarily out of their sockets and wriggle away from my straight jacket. Beautiful, wily, heroic, kindhearted, cold and nervy as all get out; where do women like you come from anyway!?! Melody was absently picking at the ridges of ruby sequins along the heel of her right slipper as her nipples and clitoris tingled with the thought of Victria's powerful fingers pushing her glass cock into her ass and rubbing her to orgasm. Who am I kidding, she thought. There can't be anyone else like you.

Melody was no stranger to the explosive, emulsive effects desire's wrath had on the mind and heart. That was why, in part, Victria's humiliating her, was acceptable, especially after she'd so generously held her close and gave her sweet kiss after kiss on her hot, aching, dread muddled, sobbing head. The power play, being stripped naked and subsequent orgasm, whether Victria had been aware of it or not, played on Melody's deeply seeded, buried, desire to have it, and so was inevitable. Victria had charged her; either unknowingly or on purpose, through practiced skill, and brought Melody to a place she hadn't been for a good long time.

Melody shook her head, and snapped herself out of her stupor. Her last thought was of Victria, dressed in an artist's smock, poised at a canvas and in the act of brushing fine strokes while she herself was the model; reclined naked on a chaise, legs partly open, head turned in profile toward an open window beyond her. And though she could not see the actual painting, Melody knew that the image included Victria as the painter; painting the scene of herself painting the scene of herself painting the scene in perpetuity. As she got back to work, Melody began to wonder if Victria had actually orchestrated the robbery. Powerful people could make happen what they wanted, couldn't they? Coincidences that crazy didn't really happen, did they?

Sure they did, thought Melody. Of course they did. They happened all the time. So, Melody resigned herself, no; committed herself this time, to the conviction that the world creates all of who you are, and will suck the life right back out of you if you resist. The robbery, time suspended, shots fired, Victria there because of Melody and Melody there because of Victria; the world got the outcome it wanted. It's decided then. Since the world is such a strange and dangerous place, Melody surmised, and then I'm right where I'm supposed to be.

Melody was in the kitchen by the time Victria let herself into the house. She was at the sink, washing up the last of the pans she'd used to cook up apricot glazed chicken breasts, butternut squash bisque and Spanish rice. She could feel Victria's eyes noticing the bun she'd bound her hair back in, then roving them down her naked back, buttocks and legs. Melody was setting items in the dish drain as Victria advanced toward the artfully set table. She's quiet, thought Melody, still not turning. Why isn't she saying it's beautiful? Oh, maybe she's waiting to find out how the food tastes first. Just as Melody thought to turn, Victria was suddenly beside her at the sink, washing her hands.

"Good evening Ma'am." Said Melody as she tucked the last rinsed utensil against the rest of the drying cookery, "How was your day Mistress?"

Victria took the dish towel and studied Melody as she dried her hands. Melody's eyes shyly fluttered under the woman's stare.

"The day was fine." Answered Victria, "Yours?"

", I've finished everything I'd set out to complete for today." Melody said with an emerging smile, "At this rate, I believe I'll be able to start that online marketing course work ahead of schedule."

Victria said nothing as she removed her blazer and draped it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Not knowing her well enough at all, Melody wasn't sure if she was starting a new game, lying about how her day actually went or whether she was still upset with her from that morning. She watched Victria move around the table and start to get into her chair, but then saw that she'd doubled back to her jacket. Melody obediently stood by, glancing as Victria pulled out a few bills from the blazer , and then briskly tuck them into her right front pants pocket.

They ate in silence for a time; Victria seeming satisfied enough with the meal as she read through the rest of that morning's paper, while Melody took her meal on the floor beside her. Baring the weight of the silence, Melody was reminded of how many quiet, picturesque lanes she'd walked on her way to that very moment. Then she followed the trail of remembered images of walking mile after mile in the trusty, already beat to Hell hiking boots she'd started her journey with, all those months ago. It made her think about how many shoe stores Victria raided over that time in order to fill her closet the way she had.

"You're thinking of something amusing." Remarked Victria; having noticed the smile on Melody's face.

Melody shrugged and nodded as she drove her fork through her rice.

"With all due respect Ma'am;" she said, "You have a lot of shoes."

"Well no shit Cowboy. I have a lot of clothes to match them to. Is that what's funny to you, my; luxury and abundance?"

"No Ma'am. It's the irony that's funny to me." Melody explained after swallowing another morsel of chicken, "The shoes themselves are a personal symbol for me. I had to decide what I was going to wear on my feet when I walked away from were I started, and I chose this sun bleached water proofed pair of Summits I got when I was eighteen. It was in those that I turned my back to my past and started walking."

"From Greeley." Said Victria; reminding herself of the town in Colorado Melody had indicated on the application.

"Yep." Said her hire, "Greeley.

Melody related bits and pieces of a tale about how she'd left everything behind; out west, where the land was high, flat and wide, where you'd think you could see anything coming from every angle. But, you never did, not really. Events were just as unforeseeable then as they were now. So Melody walked across the country, avoiding getting picked up, keeping her pocket knife and mace right at her side, hoping that her big bad boots would take her safely away.

"There was this first real nice lady," Melody went on, "Older, handsome in this blue gingham dress she had on; working in the town library. I remember she wanted me to take some books with me; because you know I had plenty of time to read at rest stops and such, I guess was what she was thinking. Anyway, I got washed up at her place, and I stayed over one night. And then I stayed over another night, and then I stayed with her another night after that; until her husband came home. He was a trucker, and he wasn't supposed to be due back, but I guess he'd made good time, and there he was."