MELISSA WINDEYER'S WANTON MISADVENTURES
Chapter VII Redux 2
I was back in Chatro. After I'd won that battle against Jade, I owed it to my worshippers to show myself so they in turn could show their admiration. And of course people – especially those who no longer admired me – needed to know that I'd beaten Jade convincingly. They needed to know that the rumours of my defeats and my weaknesses were just that – rumours, and exaggerated ones at that. So I'd dressed in one my the newest and sexiest outfits, a tight fitting red top that hugged my sensuous curves and a short red pleated leatherette skirt – though not so short as to be immodest. Red patent leather calf boots finished off the outfit. Césaire had bought the ensemble for me, as well as the opal pendant that nestled between my breasts, as a reward for my victory over Jade.
He had taken me back to his apartment that night and I’d stayed there a few days.
I'd made myself useful while I was there, of course. I wanted him to see that I wasn't just one of the sexiest women in Chi town, but a good companion too. I'd rearranged my work schedule so I could help his cleaning woman clean his apartment. Together we did work she didn't do often, like turning the mattress, cleaning the back of the cupboards, all those 'too hard’ spots. I'd washed his clothes, shopped for food and then cooked it. For once I'd been glad of my mother's training. I'd called my parents to say I was staying with friends.
Of course I'd needed some new clothes. I'd only had the clothes I'd worn that night I fought Jade, and they were in sorry shape. So that first afternoon, Césaire had taken me to buy some outfits, undergarments and negligees. “You’re so generous!” I cooed, slipping my arm in his and kissing him. “But I'll never be able to take these home. My mother would have a fit if she knew a man had bought me these!”
“That just means you'll have to stay with me more often.” He patted my cheek.
Of course that was just what I'd hoped he would say, but I didn't let on. I just smiled and kissed him.
That was a pleasant memory, but the adoration tonight in Chatro, from girls like Cassie Foxe and her friend Amy, was a present delight. They were so pleased to hear how I'd worked over Debbie and Jade and how Holly had dispatched Lisa. True, their motives were mixed. They hated Debbie and Jade, both of whom belonged to a different faction – one of the many that riddled Chatro – but I didn’t care. They worshipped me now and they would spread the story of my victories. Cassie in particular was a gossip who would recount and magnify any smear that had the slightest grain of truth in it, so long as it was about one of her enemies. She would be sure to embroider the stories as she passed them on.
They surrounded me, enthralled. I was the center of attraction, just as I deserved to be. Of course we talked about other things beside my wins. I made some dress suggestions – Cassie's top was just a little too brief and Amy's lacy dress just a little too revealing. Anybody could see her panties and they were indeed brief. As I told her, “Amy, they call it 'intimate apparel' for a reason.“
Yes, it was a present delight to have this small circle of adoring girls clustered around me. I was surprised when Jordan Wolters joined the circle, because I knew the enmity – a word I'd heard Césaire use when talking on the phone to an associate – between her and Cassie. “Ho, Melissa!” Jordan said. ”Congratulations on your collar. Let me look at it.” She didn’t even let me respond. She just leant forward and touched it. “Lovely. You’re a lucky girl.”
I stumbled for words as Jordan went on, “Oh, didn't you know, Cassie...Amy?” Melissa’s a collared sub. Ms Justeen took her under her wing a month or so ago. Remember girls? When Ms Jade tried to bully Melissa? How Mel had to plead with Ms Justeen to rescue her?”
Cassie and Amy exchanged glances. They remembered, alright. Cassie’s malicious glance at me told me that she’d delight in spreading more gossip about me now. Jade and Lisa were forgotten. I seethed inwardly. I had to show my superiority over Jordan and get Cassie and Amy on side again. But how? My mind roiled as Jordan continued, ”But did you know Ms Justeen has lent...to use a nice word...“ Jordan giggled horridly, “Mel out to one of her friends. Yeah, Mel’s been keeping Joseph Joffre’s bed warm, haven’t you Mel?”
I bristled. Jordan’s revelation that I was owned by Justeen was bad enough, but how dare she – or anyone, let alone a sub like Jordan Wolters – say that Justeen had lent me out. I was Melissa Windeyer, not something to be loaned or passed around like some mere toy. Yes, Ms Justeen had introduced me to Césaire – that was Joseph’s middle name and my preferred name for him – but to say she’d lent me to him was just horrid and untrue! I was speechless. Jordan tugged the collar gently again. “But look, girls! Look at her collar! It’s a lovely collar, isn't it?” She was gushing, playing it up for effect. “Just what you'd expect from a generous Mistress like Justeen. You’re so lucky, Mel. You could have been owned by anyone.” She put a slight but meaningful emphasis on the word ‘anyone’. “You’re lucky it was Justeen who chose you.”
I boiled inside. Jordan's vile words were undoing all my hard work in rebuilding my position. Of course, part of it was true – all the most evil lies had a grain of truth to them. Justeen
did own me. There was no denying that, even though there were times when I resented it. There was the time Justeen had called around at Césaire’s. She had a key which made me wonder what exactly she and Césaire were to each other. She arrived to find me on my knees, scrubbing the pantry. I didn’t even realize she was ther until I heard her peal of laughter. “Césaire’s got a new maid!” That was a cruel, horrid thing to say when I was so generously helping Césaire – after all, he’d been good to me. I’d bitten my tongue though. There was no use arguing with Ms Justeen. But then she’d told to stand up, hugged and kissed me and told me I was a good girl. I’d glowed in the warmth of her praise.
In time, I knew, her ownership would have been public knowledge. But it could have been – it
shouldhave been – done much better than Jordan sneering about it like it was some kind of dirty secret. I was making plans for an announcement at Ronaldo with properly printed invitation cards and well laid out tables with food. Holly and some silkies would be walking round offering wine to the guests and, of course, they’d tell everyone that I owned them. Even better, their actions would
show everyone I was still a powerful Domme. The fact that I'd submitted to an even more powerful woman didn’t change that. Here and now though, this bitch was just muddying my name, making it seem like something shameful.
Jordan was just getting wound up though. “But such a lovely gold collar is wasted on Melissa,” she said. “Cassie, you’d be so grateful to Ms Jenn for such a collar. You’d tell everyone how Ms Jenn had given it to you, how pleased you were to be owned by such a loving, generous Mistress. Not Melissa Windeyer though. Oh no. Mel wears the collar but she doesn't want people to know she's owned.“ Jordan jerked my collar painfully. “Do you Melissa? You're an ungrateful wench...hiding it, leaving it for people to find out.”
How could I answer such a horrid slur? I could hardly say that the right opportunity hadn’t arisen. If I told them about my plans for an official collaring ceremony, Jordan would just say I was trying to big-note myself. She’d probably add that most people knew about an engagement – the vanilla equivalent of a collaring – well in advance of the party.
I just turned red.
It got worse, way beyond horrid. Jordan whispered to me, though loudly enough for Cassie and Amy to hear, “Me and Justeen are friends too, you know. I bet she’d lend ya out to me. I need to ask her.”
“No way!” I gulped.
Jordan nodded vilely. “Yes way! Yes she would. Just like she lent you to Joffre. What am I saying...lent.” Her lip curled. “She whored you out to him.”
All I could do was say, “No! No! No!” like a parrot. But privately I wondered – was it true? Did Ms Justeen lend me out to Césaire? Of course, I didn’t believe for one second that she’d lend me out to somebody like Jordan Wolters – a mere nothing. Nor would she ever stoop so low as to befriend Jordan. But had she lent me to Césaire, or at least put him in my way? My mind reeled with the implications.
“Oh yes she did!” Jordan was so in my face. She leaned over me. Sitting down, with a table in front of me and blocking me from standing up easily, I couldn't deal with her just then, though I knew I should. She tugged on my collar, twisting it so the links dug uncomfortably into the back of my neck. “Girls, look at the evidence. Justeen introduces this slut to Joffre. He takes her home, screws her that night and...well...” The bitch swung around to face me. “...has he stopped screwing you yet?”
I opened my mouth to speak. I tried to explain what had really happened, how Césaire and I were in a relationship, but Jordan twisted the collar painfully, almost choking me, cutting off my words.
Her other hand slid down to my tummy. She found the piercing in my navel and tugged on it through my top as she jerked the collar again. I winced.
”So yes, she did lend you out to Joffre. And...oh yes...she’ll lend you out to me. And then...” she smiled evilly, “...oh how I’ll get my revenge on you,
Ms Melissa Windeyer...you pretentious puffball!”
That was it. I wasn't letting this puffball – to use her own word – get away with this any longer. I shoved the table away. Dishes and glasses clattered. I stood up.
“Not so fast!” Jordan hissed. “Your Mistress will make you submit to me.”
“Never!“ I snapped back, but part of me wondered whether it was true. Would Ms Justeen do it? I tried to block that horrid thought out of my mind. I knew I'd submitted before, and not just to Justeen either. For all that they had tricked me into doing so, I'd submitted to Colleen, and to Jimmy Berwick and his girlfriend Brooke. Ms Justeen had made me see that. Would I submit – would she want me to submit – to anyone else? Surely not to this powderpuff! But I couldn't take the risk. I'd have to destroy this puffball, now, before she put any ideas into Ms Justeen's head – before the tongues wagged.
I strode forward telling myself that to look confident was to be confident. After all, I was Melissa Windeyer and she was just Jordan Wolters – a weak subbie. Her status was evident to anybody who looked at her. It was almost a subbie uniform – a white top so tight I could see her nipples through it, a short pleated black skirt, boots that came up to her calves, showed off her legs and gave her butt some extra pertness. She might as well have been carrying a sign.
I grabbed Jordan's arm and yanked her toward me. She responded by punching me hard in the belly, churning my stomach for a moment. I gasped. She had punched much harder than I thought she could. “Get off me, bitch!” she hissed. Instead I raised my knee, ramming it upward, hoping to strike Jordan's gut.
I missed and she wriggled away. I slapped at her face. The first slap hit hard but she blocked my second. She retaliated with a slap of her own that hit me. For a few seconds we stood trading slaps, defending with one hand and swinging at our foe with the other. It was too much for the weak puffball. Jordan stopped trying to hit me and devoted both hands to trying to block my slaps that rained down on her. I was – as I should be – cruising to an easy win.
Jordan broke away. I came after her, quickly – indeed, too quickly. I stumbled when my heel caught on an uneven patch in the carpet. Jordan cruelly took advantage of that. She sprang toward me, slapping hard. I brought my hands up to block her. She punched at my stomach. It hit and it hit hard. I faltered, gagging as the pain sank in.
She kicked at my thigh. I dodged that but had to retreat. She came after me, slapping at my face, kicking at my shins. I had to retreat before her onslaught. This was so wrong. I was Melissa Windeyer! Jordan was just Jordan – a nothing, a puffball, a subbie.
I kicked out myself. My kick went nowhere but it did make Jordan slow her attack. She slapped again but I managed to bat her arm away. The silly slut came after me again with the same move. This time I not only batted her hand away but struck back, extending my arm in a stabbing blow aimed at her armpit. Jordan whirled around, avoiding my blow – but she didn't avoid my kick to her middle.
The weak slut doubled over, groaning. I reached after her but she ran away. I followed, firing punches at her middle. She blocked or dodged most of them, but those that hit made her gasp. I kept on hitting at her, driving her toward a table. The nothing panicked when her butt hit the table, her arms windmilling. I took careful aim and sent a punch at her chin. The uppercut knocked her over backwards onto the table, her legs hanging over, kicking weakly.
I giggled gleefully as I stepped in to end this fight. This powderpuff had hardly even hurt me.
“Uggh!” The bitch had cruelly jabbed her foot into my sensuous stomach. Her four inch heel struck my navel piercing – it was a horrid pain. The ball of her foot struck me higher on my belly. It didn’t hurt much but the force of it drove me back.
I stood there puffing, my stomach in pain. This was not what people expected from Melissa Windeyer. There was a murmur from those looking on, almost in disbelief that I was having some trouble dealing with this lowly subbie. Jordan was no more than room whore. I should have taken her apart already. I had to act fast to restore my reputation.
But I
am Melissa Windeyer. Ignoring the horrid pain that the puffball had inflicted, I stepped forward. She tried to kick me again – fool to expect that I'd be tricked by the same move, twice in a row. I grabbed at her foot. Jordan swung her body, avoiding me. She rolled away, off the table, getting to her feet. She was panting, clearly in need of a break.
I wasn't giving her one. As she stood, I swept in, clapping my hands on her ears before she was fully upright. She gasped and faltered. I seized her long plait and hauled her forward, onto my knee again. I knew how much that hurt. I remembered with a shiver how Jimmy Berwick had narrated an imaginary fight in which his woman Brooke had done that to me. It had all been his words, his description – there had been no real fight – but those words had been so vivid that the picture they painted had totally destroyed me, left me a mewing slut.
But that was then and imaginary. This was now and real. Jordan squealed in pain and fear. I cackled and, pushing her shoulder down, I drove her to her knees. She squirmed and squealed. I yanked her up by her plait and rammed my knee into her gut several more times. When I finally let her go, she slumped to her knees again, whimpering, “No, please...no more. No more, Melissa.”
“Show some respect!” I yanked her plait and kneed her twice more. When I let her go this time, she fell to the floor in a heap. I prodded her with the toe of my boot. She moaned but didn’t move.
Oh yes Ms Melissa! Like you are
so strong!” Cassie cheered. “Like you totally broke that stuck up bitch!”
I bent down to the whimpering wreck. “Give in, slut!”
“Yes...yes! I give, Melissa.”
I straightened up and said, loudly enough for the watchers to hear, “So I'm still powerful...strong. I might be owned, but you'll never make me sub to the likes of you!” With that I turned my back on her and sauntered off to the bar, leaving a buzz of excited subbies telling each other, “Ms Melissa Windeyer's back!”
