Spinnerette

Praise for the writing of Lena Austin

Black Widow

Black Widow gives you a sexy, realistic look inside the world of BDSM. Warning: Keep a glass of ice water handy! You'll need it to cool down after reading this hot story from Lena Austin. -- Doreen DeSalvo, author of Once a Thief (Changeling Press) Lena Austin's Black Widow takes the reader on a delightful and enlightening journey through the BDSM world, shown through the eyes of wonderfully three-dimensional, lovable characters who are perfect foils for each other. I highly recommend this beautifully written, skillfully edited book--I couldn't put it down until I'd read the last page! -- Ann Jacobs, author of Luna Ten: Shedir (Changeling Press, Summer 2004)

Black Widow takes the reader far beyond the typical BDSM romance with well-drawn, multi-layered characters and the perfect blend of humor to balance the intensely erotic scenes. Lena Austin really knows her stuff and it shows in this thoroughly entertaining and enlightening story. -- Kate Douglas, author of Wolf Tales 2: Alexandria (Changeling Press) Reviewer’s Choice Award: Ms. Austin has written one of the best BDSM erotic romances that I have read in a very long time… Calder’s secrets, hidden from a woman whose profession hinders his openness, make the whole story tense, leading to a well-deserved confrontation and a surprising resolution…I can do no more than give Black Widow my highest recommendation. -- Meribeth McCombs, Road to Romance

Black Widow is coming in July from Loose Id.

BLACK WIDOW: SPINNERETTE

Lena Austin

Warning This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers. DISCLAIMER: Many of the acts described in our BDSM/fetish titles can be dangerous. Loose Id publishes these stories for members of the community in which these acts are known and practiced safely. If you have an interest in the pleasures and pains you find described herein, we urge you to seek out advice and guidance from knowledgeable persons. Please do not try any new sexual practice, whether it be fire, rope, or whip play, without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

***** This book is rated:

Explicit sexuality and potentially dangerous activities.

Black Widow: Spinnerette Lena Austin This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by Loose Id LLC 1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29 Carson City NV 89701-1215 www.loose-id.com

Copyright © 2004 by Lena Austin All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

ISBN 1-59632-006-0 Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Peggy Roberts Cover Artist: April Martinez

www.loose-id.com

Black Widow: Spinnerette

We arrived early on that cold October day, just in time to help Kelly finish preparing lunch for her students. I was an advanced Domination trainee and was there to play the Assistant. Dante, likewise, had almost finished his training and was there mainly as my companion. Kelly was known nationally as The Black Widow, an award-winning Dominatrix who had recently retired from her professional work. As usual, she was dressed in more comfortable Domination clothes than what she might wear while actually performing. A black leotard and black jeans sufficed for a simple demonstration. After lunch, Kelly launched into her lesson on “rope clothing,” often referred to as rope dresses or rope harnesses. She demonstrated various knots using a simple cotton clothesline. One of the three new students was having difficulty visualizing how rope clothing could be sensuous in a bondage situation, especially on a male. This new group of apprentices had only recently mastered the techniques that kept play legal and safe. Therefore, they could now learn the techniques used on the human body. Kelly asked Dante if he would consent to submit, and demonstrate the uses. Dante, of course, knew what was in store for him if he agreed. He was more than happy to assist, stood, and stripped off his clothes. I took his shirt and winked at him as a collective sigh

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arose at the sight of his smooth, nearly hairless chest and six-pack abs. He muttered to me, “Those workouts just paid off.” Dante is over six feet tall, well hung, broad-shouldered, with long, blond hair. The other trainees knew him only as another Dominant, and were shocked when he knelt naked at Kelly's feet. He crossed his wrists over his head in the traditional manner that signals a temporary submission. Kelly grasped his crossed wrists in traditional acceptance. Even I, who had seen him submit before, found it titillating to see a man who resembled the stereotypical, blue-eyed Viking kneel before a woman. The eyes of the students lingered on his sculpted, concave butt and long legs. Under normal circumstances, such a ritual would not be needed. Dante and I had both submitted when we became Kelly's pupils. However, the apprentices were unaware of that, since Dante and I did not wear collars. As advanced students, we wore necklaces that were little more than thin silver chains. The traditional ritual showed the novices that Dante submitted to the tiny, brunette woman who barely came to his brown nipples when he stood. Kelly ordered, “Stand with your back to the door and spread your legs. Place your palms flat against the door and do not remove them.” Her blue eyes twinkled with good humor. “Yes, Mistress.” He rose gracefully and did as ordered. She left the room, allowing the apprentices a few moments to admire a handsome man splayed out. No one moved or touched him. Already he was growing hard, knowing what awaited him. The students' eyes grew hungry. Kelly returned with a long, well-used version of the laundry-line rope she had been demonstrating with. I knew that rope well. After so much use and washings, it was soft like a brushed cotton boll, newly picked. Expertly, she formed a loop at one end.

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Dante's cock was now quite hard, and the tip lay nearly flat against his lower belly. Kelly slipped the rope over the purple tip and tightened the loop just below the head. Dante's cock twitched, but he made no sound. He closed his aquamarine eyes and set his jaw. There would be no pain, as he well knew, only pleasure and stimulation. Kelly slowly began to wind the rope as if she were wrapping a candy cane, covering his entire shaft from top to bottom. Only the engorged tip and his balls remained visible when she was done. The rest of the rope, easily several feet in length, dangled between his balls. Kelly held the end in her hand. She blew on his nipples, and the rope tugged in her hand, signaling he was easily stimulated. She already knew this, as did I, intimately, but that simple action proved it to the apprentices. Their lusty smiles turned anticipatory. Kelly gave one small tug of her own on the rope. “You may moan, and you may speak. Tell the novices what the rope is for.” Dante opened his eyes. He turned his head to the students. “The rope restricts blood flow. I will have a full erection, but there cannot be any orgasm, nor will I be able to soften until my Mistress removes the rope. I may come only when she permits it.” Dante's eyes were beginning to glaze over. He was entering the submissive's trance known as subspace. Kelly tsked. “Such a potty mouth. He used 'come'. How like a man! We are ladies, Dante. You need reminding.” “Yes, Mistress.” She threaded the rope between his balls and then his legs, patting his hip to tell him to move away from the door. He stood upright and took one half-step away from the support. Kelly measured with her eyes and put a knot in the rope. She belted the rope around his waist, and the knot fit snugly against his anus. He squirmed for a moment, and his eyes told

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me he was inches away from complete subspace. It was a trick Kelly used often, and would later use to ensnare her future husband. Kelly turned to her apprentices. “As you well know, the male's G-spot is located in his rectum. One of the most sexually stimulated places on his body is his anus. The knot I made now rests firmly against Dante's anus. Doesn't it, Dante?” Dante moaned. “Yes, Mistress.” “Return to the door.” Dante sank back to the door with alacrity. He kept his legs spread, and his palms slapped against the wood. Kelly opened a small suitcase where she kept sensual stimulation items. I took what she removed and placed the objects on the decorative table by the door. A candle already resided on the table, so I pulled my lighter from my pocket and lit it. It would probably not be used, since I'd not been ordered to prepare his skin for wax play. The scent of the candle alone would be stimulation enough as Dante anticipated the warm wax dripping on his skin. When the chosen items were laid out, I returned to my seat so everyone would have a clear view. Kelly chose first a liquid breath freshener concentrate. She held it up and showed it to the novices and then to Dante. “One drop of this on the head of his penis will stimulate the nerve endings, making him sensitive even to air currents.” She suited words to action, and one tiny drop glistened before disappearing into the slit. I saw Dante swallow, hard. Next, Kelly picked up an ostrich feather. Nods and eager grins from the pupils showed they recognized it from previous lessons. Dante bit his lip as the feather flicked the head of his penis, and then each of his separated balls. The stroking movement of the feather did not tickle, as I well knew, but rather softly raised the awareness of every nerve ending. A groan escaped Dante's lips. His eyes were half-closed, and the tip of his penis was dark with blood that could enter, but not leave. His eyes were now looking far away,

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signifying he was in a full trance, his senses fully aware while he floated in a sea of pleasure and stimulation without the benefit of release. A rabbit fur mitt was next on Kelly's list of toys. With a large portion of Dante's cock encased in rope, she caressed his entire body instead. Nipples, that firm butt, and his balls got special attention. Kelly paused. “What color, Dante?” This stoplight color-code system allows even the most entranced submissive to tell the Dominant how close they are to the end of tolerance. Dante writhed, but did not remove his hands or step away from the door. “Green.” I could tell he was close, but he's a trooper. He would go to the very edge before begging for release, bless him. “Good. Very well, we will continue.” Kelly picked up her final toy. It was a tiny flogger with a short handle. The threads on it were composed of six-inch embroidery silks, made by her own hands. It was not made for pain, and was never used for such. She showed it to Dante, and he threw his head back against the door. He knew the exquisite pleasure those silk strands could cause, and awaited his fate. Nevertheless, he did not beg. Kelly flicked her gaze at me, and then at the refrigerator just inside the kitchen door. I had my orders. Silently, I left the room and retrieved two ice cubes. I placed them carefully in a bowl I found in the dish drainer, and returned to stand on the other side of Dante, out of the way. Kelly nodded approval. She used the silken flogger gently, laying the strands softly across the purple head of his cock, and dragging them slowly toward her. Dante bit his lip and moaned. Every little strand caressed his sensitive flesh with tenderness. Still, he refused to give in. Kelly and I smiled at one another. She flicked the little flogger, laying the strands more forcefully as they wrapped around his balls. Dante jerked and moaned louder, quivering from head to foot. Again, and then a third time, the colorful strands caressed his sensitive sac.

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Kelly looked up and made sure Dante would not faint. His eyes were unseeing, and he continued to shake, but still he bit his lip. “Stubborn,” she purred. Dante acknowledged the compliment with a curve of his lips. Kelly raised one eyebrow at me, and I picked up an ice cube. Instead of taking it herself, she nodded and looked at Dante's hardened nipples. We each attacked a nipple overloading him with differing sensations. Kelly caressed his left nipple with the silky smooth strands and I rubbed the other with the edge of an ice cube. The kicker, though, was when Kelly reached behind and twitched the rope, causing the knot to rub Dante's anus. Dante gasped once, then cried out. “Yellow! I give! Please let me…orgasm! I beg it!” The novices applauded, acknowledging both Kelly's skill and Dante's fortitude. I dropped the ice cube back in the bowl and returned it to the kitchen. Kelly unwound the rope slowly and gently until Dante was free. He leaned against the door, his breath rasping harshly. With a wave of her hand, I was permitted to lead him to the spare bedroom. He was quick to throw me on my back and attain the release he had earned. I couldn't wait for Kelly's next lesson.

Lena Austin Lena Austin is a “fallen” society wench with a checkered past. She has been a licensed minister, hairdresser, and realtor, radio DJ, exotic dancer, telephone service tech, live-steel medievalist swordswoman, BDSM Mistress, and investment property manager. Not necessarily in that order. She never finished that degree in archaeology, but did learn to scuba. After a life like that, gardening is pretty restful. Of herself, Lena writes, “I’m tall, moody, and I look like an unholy mating between an Amazon and a librarian.” You can find Lena on the web at www.lena.realmsoflove.com or email her at [email protected].

***** Read on for a tantalizing glimpse of

Black Widow by Lena Austin Coming from Loose Id in July 2004

The nearly naked man in front of her offered her another cup of coffee, but Kelly didn’t give any indication she noticed his bare state. She glanced up from her paperwork and took the delicate china cup and saucer. Sipping the hot brew, she nodded her approval. The man departed silently. If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. He’d been trained well. Her blue-eyed gaze followed his sculpted ass without appearing to leave the stack of forms in front of her. “That new thong looks good, Angie,” she commented to the black-haired beauty sitting on the left side of her desk. Angie saluted with her cola can. “It should. It cost the moon. But I saw those spangles and just had to decorate Troy in it.” “Yeah? You’ll have to share the catalog. By the way, I appreciate your bringing Troy along while you help me with this crap.” She gazed with hatred at the stack of receipts and tax forms in front of her. “Hey, what’s your accountant for, if not helping you sort through paperwork for your quarterly tithe to Uncle Sam?” “I wish I didn’t have to do it at all. It’s getting to be too much for one person to handle.” Kelly stared out the window and tried not to think about the past. A year had come and gone since Denny’s death, and she should start living again. “What you need is a partner, Kelly. Someone with the brains to handle the business end and won’t choke over how you make your living. Ideally, someone who could be your partner in all things, but that may be asking the moon and stars. Denny was one-of-a-kind.” “What I need is a life.” Kelly got up from her desk and moved around the room sipping her coffee. She knew it infuriated her best friend the way she could never keep still, but sitting in a chair for very long was more than she could bear. “I thought when I retired from

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the profession that a little volunteer work would be enough to keep me occupied, along with a few private clients. It’s not working. I’m bored.” Angie kept right on working, her fingers busily tapping on the calculator or adding numbers to the computer that usually sat in lonely state behind Kelly’s writing desk. “Yeah, well, it was getting too rough to continue being a professional mistress since that conservative bas— I mean, our beloved mayor, decided he was going to clean up the town. Idiot.” Angie sneered at the thought of the self-righteous right-wing bureaucrat up for reelection at the end of the year. “Closing the bars around the military bases was dumb enough. Where did the soldiers end up? Causing trouble downtown, in the mayor’s backyard. So, he reopened the bars and started trying to shut down all vice in this city. All he did was drive out legit business owners like you. I haven’t seen any reduction in the hooker population.” “I’m not arguing with you!” Kelly threw up her hands in mock defense against Angie’s vehemence. It was an old rant. “But you and I both know I was ready to retire anyway. When I wasn’t running around with my kit to the airport hotels to beat on some fly-bynight business traveler, I was spending way too much time downstairs trying desperately to come up with something new for insatiable regular clients.” The silence lengthened, punctuated only by the occasional tapping of keys as Angie prepared Kelly’s taxes for the quarter. Kelly was considering turning on the stereo just for some background noise, when Angie finally turned around and laid her glasses on the desk. “Okay, so you’re bored. Obviously the volunteer work isn’t enough. You’re used to a much faster-paced lifestyle. How about charity work?” “Oh, I can see that now!” Kelly laughed mockingly. Then she went into a wicked imitation of a snobby matron having a mock heart attack, and said in a quavering voice, “The infamous Black Widow daring to want to give us her dirty whore’s money?”

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Angie chortled. “No, you’re right. They would never understand that you have an unbroken rule never to have sex with your clients.” With a contemptuous sniff, Kelly fiddled with the curtains at the window. “Who would want to? And even if I did, that would put me into the legal realm of prostitution. No thank you. It’s my business to perform BDSM acts for money, not sex. It would be the same as asking Picasso to paint a house,” Kelly pronounced with some pride. “Now that conjures up a visual,” Angie drawled. “So, we’ve circled back around. You need a new occupation. Something besides working at the hospice. Okay, charity work is out. How about going back to school? Learn a new skill.” She tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail on her chin. “Oh, yippee-skippy. What would I take? Creative Basket Weaving? Somehow, I don’t see myself back in college. Even if I did, what would I do with a degree? Soon as any employer found out about my past, my ass would be bouncing on the sidewalk.” Kelly would have laughed, but it wasn’t all that funny. She felt trapped by a profession she had loved for so long. “Then you need to be self-employed. As your accountant, I recommend you think about it. Uncle Sam will take a huge bite out of you until you find somewhere to invest besides CDs and T-bonds,” Angie warned. Kelly snorted. “I could always find myself a gigolo to spend my money on. Some handsome guy to complicate my life, spend my money, and keep my name in the scandal sheets.” The suggestion was amusing, but easily discarded. “That’s not a bad idea, pal. The getting a guy thing, anyway. Someone better than Michael.” Kelly groaned, and began to pace again. “Whatever possessed me to accept him as a subbie, I don’t know. He’s so pitiful.”

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“What’s his latest trick to get your undivided attention?” Angie rested her chin in her hands. “Does it matter anymore? He’s tried hypochondria, failing to pay his bills until he had to file for bankruptcy, and beating on my door at two AM because he got locked out of his apartment.” Her feet made no sound as she paced across the office, but the carpet felt good to her bare soles. Wearing heels was such a bitch that Kelly ran around barefoot at every opportunity. “I remember that one,” Angie chuckled. “He got one helluva shock when he found out you’d gone to Vegas with a client for the weekend.” Kelly snickered. “Yeah, that one backfired. After the neighbors called the cops on him and he spent a night in jail for disturbing the peace, he meekly paid his rent and hasn’t tried that kind of idiocy again.” “When are you going to get rid of that twerp? He’s more trouble than he’s worth.” Angie never made any secret that she disliked Michael in the extreme. And so did everyone else. The feeling was mutual, unfortunately. Michael knew Angie saw through him, Kelly deduced. “What Michael needs is a full-time Mistress he can live with and cater to in abject servitude.” Angie stood up while the printer chattered in the background. “Well, honey, you’re not that Mistress.” “Oh, hell no! If I wanted a man in my life, I’d rather have an independent, quiet soul. I like my life uncomplicated.” Angie brandished the total taxes due form. Kelly winced and wrote a check. As Angie stuffed forms and calculator into her briefcase, she had to have the last word. “That’s the trouble, hon. If it has tires or testosterone, it will be trouble!”