Chapter Twelve

Georgia wiped her hands off on her pristine thighs as she carelessly tossed the empty bottle of scent onto the carpet.

Her room was a mess, more so than she would have ever tolerated in her past as a fastidious neat freak. Dark, rumpled clothing–pulled from her wardrobe for critical inspection before being discarded–blanketed the floor like an obsidian snowdrift. Designer shopping bags littered the space, torn tissue paper spilling out the tops, and even the bottle of cheap white wine Linh had been saving to celebrate the end of exams rolled empty on a side.

It was fine, Georgia would simply get her **** to tidy up later. It had been necessary when picking out the all-important outfit for her final sortie against Vince from apartment 10a and his insidious, pungent power.

“How do I look, ****?”

Georgia had gone for a bit of her old look, enhanced and magnified by a lot of her new fashion acquisitions.

She wore a black **** metal tank top with a strategically torn neckline that was cropped short to showcase plenty of her flawless flat tummy. Her new, fuller breasts rounded out the tight top nicely. Her bullet hard nipples tented the dark fabric, unhindered by any bra since Georgia had far outgrown any that she owned.

Low slung dark denim cutoffs barely covered her peachy butt and diamond fishnets were stretched over her sleek porcelain thighs before tucking into a dazzling pair of knee high buckle up boots with vertigo inducing knife heels.

Accessories were the real order of the day; chains, loops and clasps dangled from her belt-line and pockets, while steel studded leather cuffs and a matching choker adorned her slender wrists and neck. All in various hues of sable that only highlighted Georgia’s perfect ivory complexion.

“Like a dream given life, Mistress. Dark and gorgeous and brilliant–” Georgia cut off Linh’s mindless blathering with an imperious wave of her hand.

The hopeless slut was kneeling in the bedroom doorway staring fixedly at her Mistress with stars in her big teary eyes. Her knees were spread wide and her small hands rested precariously close to the camel toe damply outlined in her skimpy painted-on yoga shorts. Though she didn’t reach for her eager moistened sex.

Linh wasn’t permitted to touch herself. Not yet.

“I thought as much. Is your love egg fully charged and functioning?” Georgia asked, playing with her full mass of glossy onyx tresses but ultimately deciding to leave her hair down.

“Yes, Mistress. It’s humming deep inside me and the remote is in your purse as you instructed, Mistress.”

“That’s a good ****.”

Linh gasped and shuddered visibly at the minor praise, clearly experiencing a visceral physical reaction to Georgia’s kind, if somewhat backhanded, compliment. The raw demonstration of dizzying control and sheer domination was exhilarating.

Moreover, Linh was displaying some physical side-effects of her own. Her lean athletic build had blossomed overnight and now the slim Asian was growing in some curves. Nothing overly dramatic, not like Sammy’s mountainous bouncing titties and thick ghetto booty, but more than enough to give her sherbet yellow sports bra and yoga shorts an impromptu pressure test.

“Tha-thank you, Mi-Mistress.”

“Did you call Sammy and tell her you needed to talk to her about Vince?”

The plan was to lure Sammy, and Vince in turn, away from the First Edition.

Some quick early morning reconnaissance had revealed that her boss, the scumbag in question and nearly a dozen of their new “girls” were sleeping at the bar.

Sammy and Vince had been loudly going at it like a pair of energizer fuck-bunnies up in her boss’s small studio apartment above the business. All while the stunningly alluring bevy of scantily dressed beauties had curled up on the old booth seats, under the tables and behind the bar to find what rest they could.

That didn’t seem like much.

Their sleep had seemed restless, tossing and turning with delicate hands buried sleepily between shiny wet thighs and a single name being universally moaned on drowsy pouty lips. All those dazzling blondes, sultry brunettes and vivacious redheads being kept like decorative chattel to work, pose and mindlessly service a single vile man.

It was a horrifying, if morbidly fascinating, sight and had pushed Georgia to formulate her final coup de grâce. To use every last drop of her remaining tincture and take everything back from Vince in one fell swoop.

She had a suspicion that she would be getting some more of it pretty soon.

“Yes, Mistress. They both agreed to meet me at the coffee shop on Jefferson Drive at eight. Did I please you, Mistress?” Linh mewled, worshipful tears running down her rapturous face as though she were looking upon a holy goddess made manifest.

“Perhaps. Do you love me, ****?” Georgia asked with a quizzical arch of a perfectly manicured brow.

“Yes, yes! More than anybody, Mistress!”

“Will you do what needs to be done when I ask it of you, ****?” She inquired, reaching out to ghost her fingertips beneath the slut’s quivering chin.

“Anything, anything you want.” Linh’s lean body was shaking like a roof in a storm as she tried to lean into the feathery touch. “Just tell me what to do, Mistress. Pleeeease~!”

Georgia let out a soft shuddering sigh over her own. She felt so strong. So in control and driven. There was no way she was going to fail this time. She knew Vince’s terrible secret, she had taken it and was going to use it to turn the tables back on him.

She would dominate the guy from apartment 10a then crush him like the insignificant worm he truly was.

But first…

“Good ****. What a good obedient **** you are. Now cum for your Mistress.”

She needn’t have added the final instructions. Before Georgia was finished speaking, Linh had collapsed into a quaking, drooling ball of orgasmic jelly.

Georgia sighed in blissful contentment as she reclined in Sammy’s squeaky desk chair.

The chair itself had seen better days but the inky haired Bronte sister burying her lovely face between Georgia legs was showing some impressive alacrity with her clever tongue.

What was her name again? Bekky… Barbara… Bernadette… Who really cared anyway?

Georgia’s whole morning had gone swimmingly. As though her poise and presence were enough to sweep away any roadblocks to her success and pave the way to Vince’s inevitable comeuppance.

At eight o’clock precisely, she had paraded her way through downtown to the bar with Linh in tow by way of a leash–an actual fucking leash–clipped to the dog collar around the pretty Asian sluts neck.

Georgia had been bold, unapologetic and proud in her display. No longer caring what the cringing sheeple and worker drones thought of her as they scurried like vermin to clear a path for her.

Georgia was a powerful, independent and commanding woman and they would get out of her way or be crushed beneath her skyscraper boot heels for their shameful impertinence.

Linh was dressed in her nectar soaked yoga shorts and a frilly too-small pink bralette as she stumbled along behind. None of it really fit–not at all after the bodacious changes the freshly inflated girl had recently undergone–except for the clunky neon orange pumps they had found in the back of her closet.

“Good girl, such a good little **** girl.” Georgia purred, causing the Emily worshiping between her flawless thighs to spasm in climatic paroxysm at the sweet sound of her new Mistress’s voice.

“Mmmmnnph~!”

It had been touch and go at first. Georgia and Linh shared a spare key to the First Edition on the off chance Sammy couldn’t be there to open on any given day.

Arriving at the time of the decoy meeting, Georgia estimated she had at least half an hour to prepare before the inevitable return of her bimbo boss and the object of her detestation. What she hadn’t anticipated was the manner of reception her unexpected arrival would receive from the mind-fucked tramps residing in the bar.

It was decidedly mixed.

Vince had left an indelible mark of the place. Georgia had almost stumbled when Linh had unlocked the door and released an invisible wave assaulting stench. A staggering bouquet of masculine musk, wet pussy, body odor and the chemical reek of his damnable perfume.

She had propped up a floundering Linh and buried her hyperventilating face into the nape of her neck where she could huff Georgia in like a inhalant. Then it was only a matter of weaving drunkenly through the gauntlet of increasingly confused young sexpots to reach Sammy’s office.

It was bizarre, despite their rough sleeping conditions each and every one of them looked freshly primped and primed for a trip down a Victoria’s Secret catwalk. Their lustrous manes of long, shiny hair radiant and tangle free. Their fine featured faces bereft of any tired lines and their bright doe eyes were utterly bag free.

They had stood there like gorgeous mannequins in their teensy tiny skirts and skin tight booty shorts that gave the lie to any notion of underwear being part of the dress code. Endless pairs of buoyant, oversized breasts were squeezed tight into the undersized First Edition boob tubes until they looked fit to spill out of the skimpy uniform tops.

All effortlessly balanced on unreasonably tall strappy high heels of every variety, they watched intently with cute twitching bunny noses as Georgia deposited Linh onto a bar stool and slipped through the office door.

It had been, as she suspected, in Sammy’s desk draw. A familiar bottle cut from pink glass with a silver foil label. A nearly full bottle at that. Validation was a very fine feeling indeed! Not that Georgia had needed to be Sherlock Holmes to puzzle out the radical changes in her soon-to-be ex-boss’s behavior and drastically altered appearance.

Sammy had been complicit in the madness and would need to be punished. That thought made Georgia’s hot little pussy tingle as she scooped up the bottle and set to work.

“Do you need anything else, Mistress?”

A high bubbly voice brought Georgia back to the present. An olive skinned knock out with pinup proportion and dark smoky eyes smiled hopefully at her from the doorway. Several more happy faces peered from behind the exotic centerfold ready to hang on Georgia’s every word.

Eager to receive her commands.

Yearning to obey.

For obedience was inextricably linked to exquisite, soulful pleasure for them. A few spritzes of scent and her whispered words in their suggestible ears had seen to that.

”Obedience is pleasure.”

”A good girl obeys.”

”Obedience is pleasure.”

”A good girl obeys.”

…over and over as the fragrant mist soaked into their peerless complexions and sank into the folds of their stupid neuroplastic brains. Warping their pliable young minds until their gaping mouths and smooth, hairless cunts were both drooling for their new Mistress.

It had almost been too much. Georgia soared like Icarus, so close to the sun but on righteous wings of retribution that would not flag or fail until her principled purpose had been realized.

Then she had assigned them all kissing and fingering drills. Watching with delight as pink tongues darted between strawberry lips and manicured fingers dipped into moist pussies. A dozen model-esque teen dreams sighing and moaning lustily into each other's mouths at Georgia’s command.

She wanted everything about them to be hot, wet and dripping for her when the final climactic moment arrived.

The feeling was euphoric. Addictive. Electrifying.

Georgia had dragged what’s-her-name by her hair back into Sammy’s office to quench the blazing fire in her loins until the inevitable showdown was heralded. She had nearly rode the silly slut’s face into the floorboards before she got a handle on her fiery passions and retired behind the desk, where the superb oral ministrations continued even now.

“Mistress, Mistress! They are coming!” Linh cried, bursting through the front door and breathing hard.

“Fuck! Wait a minute… Shit!”

Georgia shot upright in the creaking office chair, spittle gathered on her lips and pooling on her bulging tits. She pushed the mewling Bornte sister aside and hurriedly arranged herself for the coming confrontation. Her deft hands pulled up the tight denim cutoffs and fishnets, rebuckling the many clasps and chains as she swept her thick mane of long midnight hair back over her pale shoulders.

“Places everyone.”

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