Jenny Dunlap—Lesbian Dominatrix

Shadows swirled around them. Blaze's hand slid into place on the back of the reporter's neck. Yet the darkness did not clear exactly...the shadows simply shifted into new configurations. Stark lights from outside the sparsely-furnished room leaked in through the horizontal blinds, leaving lines of bright light and bands of darkness.

Jenny Dunlap stood in a black latex bra and panties, with knee-high, high-heeled boots and elbow-length gloves. Her body still showed the lean muscle of a major in modern dance...but the breasts were bigger, obvious implants, and her blonde hair was now a long, braided ponytail that exited the back of her latex half-mask. Black lipstick completed her outfit...and then there was the riding crop in her right hand.

Like a magician with a wand, she gestured—and Lois Lane's eyes followed. A young woman knelt on the carpet there. Naked. Blonde. Fit and muscular...and oddly familiar.

"Lucy!?" Lois said in disbelief, as she saw her sister, her confident and arrogant Army-officer sister, kneeling before the latex-clad dominatrix.

"She can't hear you," Blaze whispered. "Can't see you. You're less than a ghost to her, right now. Just watch...listen..."

"Do you know why you are naked?" Jenny Dunlap spoke, her voice oddly cultured, confident.

"Because you told me to strip, mistress," Lucy Lane said, eyes still fixed on the carpet.

The crop whipped down and across the naked woman's shoulders. Lois flinched in sympathy, and through the white lines that criss-crossed her sister's naked back, she saw the red line begin to form.

"You are naked, because you are not yet worthy of your new uniform," the dominatrix said. "You have to earn it. Look, slut."

The crop tapped against a dummy that had been set up before the light. On it was a parody of a military uniform. A female officer's dress uniform, only with a transparent skirt, pink instead of green, holes cut out to bare the nipples. Clear four-inch heels on pink dress shoes. Lois frowned as she saw that it had a name tag piercing the model's left breast—that read LANE.

Yet Lucy's gaze was hungry, her cheeks flushed as she looked at the ridiculous costume.

"You bought this uniform, didn't you, slut?" Jenny said. She was behind Lucy now. The tip of the crop rubbed against the crack of the naked woman's ass.

"Yes, mistress," Lucy said, her voice trembling with emotion.

"You bought it," Jenny said. "I'll bet you want your coworkers to see what the hardass Lieutenant Lane looks like in that outfit. I wonder how hard your father the General will get when he sees you in that mockery of a uniform. What an utter slut his daughter is."

Lucy was trembling. The crop was rubbing across her slit now. Lois frowned.

"But don't worry. None of them will know what an utter slut you are. Because I want you all for myself."

Gloved hands pulled down the zipper on the panties, revealing a hairless slit that bulged outwards from the black latex.

"Come to me now," the dominatrix said. "Lick me...and if you do a good job, then you can get dressed."

Eagerly, Lucy Lane turned around. Jenny Dunlap stood over her, crop at the ready if the naked woman made any mistakes.

"In this reality," Blaze said softly. "It started with ****. Your sister had ordered the outfit from a site she thought was secure...but she got a little more than she bargained for. Someone that knew her secret kink. Who wanted to help her explore it. So now they meet up, and play their little games...and both of them are happy, in their twisted little way. Would you deny your sister that happiness, Lois?"

The reporter's throat was dry. She felt an odd queasiness in her stomach as she saw her little sister, all grown up and on her own, eating another woman's pussy. It shouldn't disturb her, but it did—because she knew that somehow, Blaze had made this happen.

Hadn't she?

"Show me the last one," Lois Lane said.

"As you wish," Blaze replied, her fingers squeezing Lois Lane's neck lightly.