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Goodies Versus Baddies: Part 1

by Viola Black 14 days ago in fetishes

Black and White

Goodies Versus Baddies: Part 1
Photo by . liane . on Unsplash

"Put them on," she said, dismissively throwing a pair of white stockings at my feet.

Bending over, I picked them up.

"Do you know why you're wearing white, and we're in black?" she asked, as if bored. As she spoke, she lifted her legs, and rested her dark, calf-length boots on the chair opposite her. Her short skirt rose up, exposing the tops of her black stockings.

"No," I said, pulling one of the stockings over my foot, and unfurling it over my calf, then thigh.

"Because you're the goodie," she said. "And we're the baddies."

"Okay," I replied, putting the other stocking on. Suitably attired, I stood upright, looking at her.

She stared at me, a trace of disgust etched across her face.

I don't know what I was expecting. But, at the very least, I had hoped that having dressed myself in the white bra, white panties, and white stockings she had provided me with, she might have at least smiled. Had she done so, she might have temporarily punctured the air of severity she exuded. An air that, with her dark, symmetrical bob, and dark business suit, she expertly conveyed.

"Oh, dear," she finally said. "Did you hear that, Master?"

"I did, Mistress," a voice said behind me. "She didn't listen, did she?"

"No, she didn't. She wasn't paying attention when I told her she had to address me as Mistress, did she?"

"She didn't," the man said. "Silly girl."

"Hold her," Mistress said. Unseen, the man approached me from behind, and pinioned my arms to my side. He was much larger than me; struggling was futile.

She watched my capture with apparent disinterest. Eventually, with a bored, nonchalant air, she stood, and walked over to me.

She stopped in front of me, her face inches from mine. At around five foot nine, she was a few inches taller me. If the man wasn't holding me so firmly, I could've leant up, and kissed those cruel lips of hers. Reaching into the right pocket of her jacket, she lifted out a black stocking.

"Black, because we're the baddies, of course, sweetie," she said, dangling the stocking in front of my face.

She extended her arm, and passed the stocking to man behind me. I felt a temporary relief as he let go of one of my arms. But the relief was short-lived.

The woman lifted her arms, and tightly grasped my biceps. She was as strong as he was. Which was no surprise given her statuesque frame. Her sharp nails dug into my soft flesh.

Now the woman was in control of me, the man released my other arm.

"Hands behind your back," she said, giving my biceps a jolt.

I acquiesced, as did as I was told. The backs of my hands now rested against the base of my spine.

"Don't move," she spat.

Behind me, the man roughly pulled my hands closer together, so that my wrists touched. He began to wrap the stocking around them, binding me.

"We prefer to use stockings," the woman said, matter-of-factly. "So much cheaper than rope. And they cut into your flesh so much deeper. Aesthetically, a much better look. For us, anyway."

After each circuit, he tugged at the stocking, pulling the bond tighter. My entire body convulsed with each tug, like a poorly controlled marionette.

"Done," he said.

"Good," she replied, finally releasing her vice-like grip on my arms.

She stepped back, and reached for her pockets again, but this time the one above her left hip. She pulled out a pair of black pantyhose.

"I feel I need to amend my earlier statement: As well as stockings, we also like to employ these," she said, staring at the dark hosiery in her hand. "You'll see why in a moment."

Just as she did with the stocking before, she passed this over my shoulder, to the man's waiting hand.

Reaching into the right pocket of her suit jacket, she removed another black hold-up.

She lifted her eyes, staring into mine. She didn't break eye-contact with me, but my own eyes flitted nervously between hers, and the stocking in her hand she was slowly, deliberately, into a ball.

"Open your mouth."

"Why?" I stuttered, even though I knew the answer.

"Because we're going to gag you," she said, holding the other stocking in the air.

"Please," I began to stammer. "I'll be quiet... I really don't like..."

"Shut up."

"But, please... I won't say a word.... I don't like..."

She marched towards me. I stumbled backwards, only to thud into the muscly body of the man standing behind me.

Quickly, she lifted her arm, placing the flat of hand over my mouth.

"I said, quiet."

I mumbled another protest. However, that only forced her to push her hand down against my mouth more firmly. "Quiet," she repeated, this time more loudly. Her voice now dripped with animosity.

I stopped speaking.

"Now, I really do hate having to repeat myself," she continued. "It shows that someone wasn't paying me the desired levels of respect the first-time round. However, considering that you are quite pathetic and stupid, and probably didn't grasp the importance of what I said earlier, I'm going to give you another chance. Take it - it'll be the only one we give you."

To emphasize her point, she pushed down firmly on my mouth once more. The back of my head bounced off the man's chest.

"We own you. Whatever we tell you to do, you do it. If I tell you to shut up, then you need to shut the fuck up as soon as the words leave my lips. If I decide that I want you to be gagged, then you'll be gagged: I don't give a fuck what you think or want. Don't dare question it. If you do, if do not do what I instruct, even once, we will punish you. Understand? Nod that silly little, blonde head of yours if you do."

I nodded, once.

"Good girl. Oh, and by the way, whilst we're on the subject on what we expect... just so we're crystal clear: There's only one thing that upsets me more than my slave not following my orders. It's when they try to escape. Believe me, my dear... well, let's just say, that if you think I'm being cruel now, just wait to see what I'm like if you try to flee. Nod, again, if you understand."

Once more, I nodded.

"Excellent. Now, I'm going to take my hand away from your mouth. Remember, considering that I've told you to be quiet, you will make me very upset if you so much as squeak."

Slowly, deliberately, she lifted her hand.

"Now, were we? That's right - gagging you. Open your mouth."

I knew it was going to cost me, but I kept my lips clamped shut.

She sighed.

"I'd really hoped you were brighter than that," she said. "Oh, well, you can't say I didn't warn you."

I felt the man wrap one of his arms around my chest, trapping me. He grabbed a handful of my long-blonde hair in his other hand. I was held firm, trapped. The woman stepped towards me, raising the stocking. I tried to turn my head, but the man's grip was too tight.


Still I refused.

"Then we do it the hard way."

She lifted her free hand, and firmly pinched my nostrils shut.

"It's a dichotomy, really," she said, calmly. "You see, as much as it turns me on to see someone doing exactly what I order them to, it's also so much fun when they don't. Often it's much more enjoyable when they disobey me - breaking a slave in can be just as delightful as watching them do my bidding my later."

I was running of oxygen... I needed to breathe...

If I was fast, I could gulp in some air before she rammed the stocking in my mouth.

I opened my mouth...

But she was quicker than me. No sooner was my mouth open, than the stocking consumed it.

Using my tongue, I tried to eject it. But, again, her hand covered my mouth, keeping it in place.

"There's no point in trying to push it out, you silly girl. I won't let you. I want you gagged, and that's what will happen. So stop resisting."

The man had let go of my hair. I didn't know why, but I was determined to take advantage. I began thrashing my head from side to another, trying to get her loosen her iron grip.

"Stop now," she said. Her voice remained calm, pleasant even.

Still I continued moving my head from side to side... Still her hand remained clamped to my lips.

I felt a blast of cold air on my nipple, as the the cup covering my left breast was swiftly pulled down. Moments later, this was followed by an excruciating pain.

"Stop," she repeated. But this time there was iron in her voice.

I continued writhing...

She pinched my nipple harder, and twisted it.


I stopped, and looked into her eyes.

"Don't do that again," she said slowly, twisting my nipple as she uttered the final word. For good measure, she pushed the hand over my mouth forwards, and my neck jolted backwards.

"Look at me" she ordered.

I bobbed my head forward, staring at her once more. One of her hands remained glued to my mouth; the other gripping my nipple

"Trust me, this is nothing," she said, gently tweaking my nipple. "If you need any confirmation of that, keep struggling, and I will go your laundry-room, and get a handful of clothes pegs. I'm quite an expert at utilizing them. If you think my fingers are hurting your tit right now, it's nothing compared to what I can do with half a dozen pegs."

My eyes widened in... shock? Had she honestly just said that? She'd torture my breasts with pegs? Was she bluffing...?

I wasn't sure, but it didn't matter. My hesitation had given them an opening, one they exploited.

From behind me, the man began dragging one leg of the pantyhose over my head. The room went dark as the black nylon was pulled down over my eyes. I felt it pass over my nose, my mouth. She lifted her hand, momentarily, to let the hosiery pass over my mouth. But she replaced it the second it had done so.

They didn't stop until the whole leg had been pulled down; the top of my head rested where a foot would normally reside.

"There's lots of reasons to use pantyhose," she said, her hands still clamped to my mouth and tit. "The first is how ugly it makes you. Honestly, with your squashed nose, and her hair pushed everywhere, you do look a frightful mess. I like that, especially when my slave is prettier than me. I find that humiliation glorious. A ball-gag may be more durable, but there's always something beautiful about a ball-gagged woman. I'll take a picture of you later, and show you, but - trust me - there's nothing beautiful about you now. And, the second is this..."

She lifted her hand away from my mouth, and the man began wrapping the other leg of the pantyhose around the lower half of my head, over my mouth, fixing the stocking in there firmly in place.

"It's a ready-made gag. One leg to make you ugly; one leg to shut you up. It's perfect."

She lifted her hand from my mouth, and, finally, released my nipple. She stood back, admiring me.

"They're also fucking cheap, which means we can use as many as we like. We're going to un-gag you quite a few times over the evening, when I make you suck his cock, or when you lick me out, or maybe I'll get those clothes pegs; hearing you whimper would be so much fun. I might just un-gag you to make you beg or plead. But, if a ball-gag broke, we'd be screwed. Luckily, I bought five packs of three today; fifteen pairs of pantyhose, fifteen gags. So many times we can do this," she said, stepping towards me. "And all for the price of a bottle of wine."

She stopped, a few inches from my face.

I felt her fingers touch me, exploring my exposed mid-riff. I shuddered as her fingertips played with the elastic band of my underwear. Suddenly, before I had time to respond, she wrapped her fingers around the top of my knickers, and pulled them down over my thighs. She bend down, and my panties were around my ankles.

I tensed my legs, planting my stockinged feet firmly down on the carpet.

"Up," she said.

The man bear-hugged me, and - as instructed - lifted me into the air. My underwear pass over my ankles, and onto the floor.


The man dropped me.

I stood there, exposed.

She stood, holding my panties in her hand. Dismissively, she tossed them to the floor. She reached into her right pocket again, pulling out another pair of black pantyhose. Then, inserting her hand into her right pocket, removed another black stocking.

She unfurled them both, letting them dangle towards the floor.

"We've got one last thing to do before it's bedtime," she said. As she spoke, she wrapped the end of the stocking around the gusset of the pantyhose, and tied a knot, fixing the two hosiery together.

She moved forwards, and wrapped the pantyhose / stocking around my neck. She adjusted it, so the crotch of the pantyhose nestled against my neck. The two empty legs ran down my front, the stocking down my back.

"Now, this is the fun part," she said, smiling.

She grabbed the ends of the pantyhose, and pulled on them.

Slowly, she began lowering herself towards the ground...

To be continued...


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Viola Black
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