Irish Dominatrix (Part 1)

[beelzebub]

Seamus Cassidy was nervous as hell. Aged 34, he was inexperienced in television, having worked in the dustbin of RTE broadcasting; technical shit, research, and half-protecting, half-spying for the arrogant celebs on the station. Now, however, he had been plucked out of obscurity for the chance of a lifetime. Since Joe departed the show that summer, RTE had been on the lookout for a replacement alongside… Ireland's stunning queen of daytime tv… the sizzling, sultry, demanding Diva…. Gráinne Seoige!!! Gráinne had made it clear she wanted somebody with some experience of RTE itself, some goodlooking bloke, but not so goodlooking that he would detract attention from her of course. RTE agreed – both they, and the queen herself, wanted somebody they could 'handle.' Seamus was reasonably goodlooking in that rough, sort of charming Irish way, with a strong jaw, butch shoulders and muscles, a nice tan, and 'average guy' crew cut. RTE did an intense background check on him and gave all the information it had to Gráinne, including on Seamus' strong drinking habits and his prurient addictions on the internet.

   'Introduction day' was difficult. Seamus was sweating profusely in his new, uncomfortable Paul Smith suit (he was a jeans and jumper kind of bloke), drowning his nerves in his favourite tipple – Smirnoff Vodka – before being called in to the antechamber for a sit down discussion with Gráinne herself. He stood there frozen when he saw her, the Diva herself, reclining on a chair of rich mahogany, head cocked back, arms resting on the chair as if to say "yes, I am the boss", fixing him with a stare at once arrogant, questioning, probing and contemptuous, her lips tight, eyes cold, cheeks half-suppressing a grin. Gráinne had dressed, by her high standards, simply for the occasion, but, as usual in her own inimitable way, with a certain dash all the same: crisp white blouse, buttoned down with black buttons, tight on her ample chest, the white somewhat faint and white lacy bra rather visible, very tight pencil skirt ending just above the knee, nude pantyhose that gave her shapely legs a gorgeous, slightly glistening look, and four-inch black pumps, with, to Seamus' eerie shock, very spiky heels. Gráinne knew she had this man in her power. Her legs were closed together, heels tucked in, in that "no you can't, forget it" manner of hers. Looking him up and down, she thought to herself that he wasn't bad looking, not bad looking at all, and he looked nervous, the 'poor crator', and, as an experienced Irishwoman, she could get the whiff of drink off him from a distance.

   "Shur sit down!" That voice, he knew it from years of tv, ever since he had been a fan of Gráinne back in the day of TV3, and now he was hearing it in the flesh; that Connemara husky drawl. Seamus' skin quivered, his pulse raced as he got closer to her, closer and closer, before finally sitting down on the chair next to hers; Gráinne had carefully placed it at an angle so he could get a good look at her, at her legs in particular. So they began talking, or rather Gráinne talked and he listened, and occasionally grunted. She probed him about his background, his personality, what he was like with people, and then – smiling a fake smile, eyes still cold – what he was like with women! Seeing his tension at that question, she laughed a fake laugh and slapped his meaty thigh, "Ah shur relax Seamus, tis only as joke for feck sake." Seamus grabbed water on the table and then out of the corner of his eye, gulped, watching Gráinne slowly cock her right leg high and over her left before squeezing her right thigh down, high up her left thigh, the swish of her pantyhose clashing with pantyhose, the shapely legs now a gleaming mass of gorgeous convulsed flesh, her right foot pump high in the air. Gráinne then squeezed her legs even tighter, half-swinging her right calf, twirling her heel as she resumed the conversation. "Look, shur you seem like a lovely fella, I'm sure we'll get on well together. Shur, why don’t you come over to my place tonight, me and my husband would like to have dinner with you, it'll be nice shur to get to know each other better." She could see that Seamus was petrified, frozen, red-faced, scarcely paying attention, his eyes glazed on her stunning legs, the calves and much of the thighs visible, the nude pantyhose gleaming, her heel twirling, her other foot edging out and pushing the heel on her right foot, exposing a little bit of pantyhosed toes, then a little more, then a little more, he saw her fingering her blouse, the sun bursting in swathed her lacy white bra under that thin white blouse in a gleam of perfect light, his cock began dribbling, and then… suddenly Gráinne dropped her legs, got up, shook his hands and gave him a card with her number and address. "See you so at seven" she said as she walked out the door, a twinkle in her eye, that Connemara lisp or 'lithp' resounding in a sentence with three 's's', the one thing that Gráinne Seoige could never master.

   At seven Seamus arrived at Gráinne's spacious house in the fashionable outskirts of Dublin. Gráinne welcomed him effusively at the door, brought him in and introduced him to her husband, Stephen, who seemed totally uninterested and, quite frankly, uninteresting. Stephen said little, merely nodded, grabbed his beer and sat down in the living room watching a soccer match as Gráinne finished preparing the dinner and sat Seamus down at the table. Dinner itself was dull, not helped by the pervading silence around the table as Gráinne occasionally eyed her husband with a look of utter boredom, Stephen seemed preoccupied with his peas, and Seamus tweaked uncomfortably, pulling on his collar, trying to keep his eyes off Gráinne's bulging chest, watching intently, nervous of being caught by Stephen, as he stared at Gráinne's big mouth and rich lips swallowing, masticating food, her large tongue licking the ice creamed dessert. His cock quivered when he heard her under the table crossing her legs again – Gráinne gave him a quick glance to catch his reaction.

   After dinner, Stephen went back in to watch the match, burping as a thank you to his wife, while Seamus pleaded for the bathroom. "Shur, I'll show you" Gráinne said as she led him up the stairs, slowly, in front of him, giving him a good eyeful of her curvy pert ass and wide hips that seemed poured into that dark pencil skirt, her spiky pumps creaking and squeaking the wooden stairs. Gráinne waited outside as Seamus freed his manhood into the toilet bowl, smiling evilly to herself as she heard unmistakeable grunts, spasms and frantic…. When Seamus came out and saw her standing there he was obviously shocked and embarrassed, as Gráinne tried to suppress a smile. "Right, shur come in here, I want to show you some ideas I have for the show." Dutifully, nervous, half-hopeful, half-petrified, Seamus followed and then his eyes beamed as Gráinne led him into her stunning 18th century décor bedroom. She closed the door behind her and stood there facing him, smiling. He smiled back. Then she walked towards him and stood in a very special way: arms on her hips, legs far apart, chest thrusting outward. He beamed some more. Then, all of a sudden, the smile vanished from her face, replaced by a frown and a dark, evil, threatening eye. "You fucking little pervert!" Seamus was stunned. "What?? What??" Like a mother hen, Gráinne gave it all out; "I know all about you. I was given your profile, research conducted by our people, MY fucking people who look after me. I know damn well that you're a fucking little pervert, addicted to disgusting rape sites on the net!" "No, no" Seamus protested, then, pathetically, pleading with her, "They're only fantasy sites, not real, I fuckin swear it." "I don't give a shit", Gráinne replied in a tight-lipped, hectoring mother-dominant tone, "You're still a little pervert, and I know damn well that it was you, 'Gangraper1' who posted pics of me on those sites, inviting other perverts to exchange their ideas of raping me, kidnapping me, gangraping me." Now getting harsher and louder, "Did you think you could do that to me, GRÁINNE SEOIGE, and get away with it? Are you stupid or something, as well as a pathetic little pervert?" She emphasised the word little whenever she spoke it, knowing well that his confidence and manhood seemed to shrink whenever he heard it. Then, rubbing it in, "As if YOU would ever have a hope in hell of being able to rape me", then getting closer to him, almost stuffing her bursting chest in his face, "As if YOU and your other little mates on those sites would ever have a hope in hell of being able to [and she said this slowly and emphatically] gangraping me." Now he could smell her breath she was so close, her perfume was rich and overpowering, her eyes cold, glazed, petrified in evil intent….

   "Take your clothes off, little pervert, come on, take them off, NOW!" Seamus didn’t know what to do. "You do what I fucking say you fucking little pervert, or by God", and she wagged a finger at him, "or I'll make you pay." "Don't you know who I am? I'm the biggest tv star in the country, I know everybody, I have agents, friends, powerful friends, [then in a 'lithpy' little girl voice] my daddy is a senior Garda in the Gards, [then back to hectoring bitch tone] I'm good pals with the Taoiseach as well [he couldn't help but me turned on by the way she said Taoiseach [like Thweeshock]"

   In her four-inch pumps she was a little taller than Seamus; that and her obvious power and control of the situation made her able to look down on him by something more than pure gravity. His fear, panic, embarrassment and utter mortification were such that he was partly bent down anyway; looking up, his head barely reached her dominant cleavage, his eyes faintly looked into her Medusa-like stare of utter contempt for this pathetic little weasel. He cried, begged, then, finally, and trying to assert himself, grunted, and began taking off his jacket and shirt. Then Gráinne grabbed his balls – PAINFULLY – "Slowly, you little pervert!" Gráinne kept her arms on her hips as she watched intently as he took off everything, right down to his socks and shorts. Her eyes bathed him all over, full of contempt, hatred, but also lust, and a sense of overwhelming power. Her eyes glimmered a little when she saw his bulging balls and large, somewhat stiff penis, but she suppressed that – she had to treat him with utter contempt, and, by god, she would…..

   He was naked now, frozen, helpless, sobbing at the utter indignity of it all. Gráinne, looking proud as a peacock, arms folded, slowly walked around him, again, again, and again, her pumps swishing as she turned sharply each time, then she started giggling. Then facing him, she frowned again. She grabbed his balls hard, real fuckin hard, Seamus tried to scream but suppressed it – her husband was downstairs after all. "Now listen you pathetic little man, you will do exactly what I say, understand, exactly, or I'll tell my husband, the press, RTE, everything about you, you'll be fuckin ruined, understand. I'll even say that you tried to have me kidnapped and gangraped for the pleasure of you and your little friends. I'll run down and tell Stephen right now that you tried to rape me up here!" "Alright, alright" Seamus panted, closing his eyes, sniffing the air, preparing himself for what was about to come. Gráinne smiled evilly again, now squeezing his balls harder, tighter, harder, he opened his mouth, gasped and moaned, and then Gráinne laughed a heavy panted laugh. "Shur these are small, your little willy is pathetic." "You're happy in your nappy." She mocked him, laughing, then forced him towards her, using his balls as a lever, and then with her other hand slapped him hard across the face. She pulled at his hair, gently, then hard, he moaned with pain as she tugged on his balls at the same time, then with one finger – equipped with a long, red-painted nail – she began stroking his willy, scratching it, he grimaced, tears in his eyes, then she forced him direct towards her, stuffing his face in her blouse for a second before sweeping him away and giving him another mighty slap, "Forget it, you fucking little pervert, you'll never get THESE" clutching her blouse.

   Then she let his balls go, he grabbed them in both agony and relief, then she pushed him down to the floor. Now, slowly, she spread her legs wider, her pencil skirt reaching a little higher now above her knee due to her strained posture. She began walking, her legs on both sides of his torso, till she stopped about halfway up his prostrate body. Staring down at him with icy hatred, she began sweeping her right-foot pump onto his torso, stroking his stomach, his chest, with her heel, stroking, swirling. Seamus couldn't help but be turned on by this, Gráinne kept a deadly eye on him, and at the first sight of lust in him, she then STABBED his stomach with her heel. He grimaced but refused to cry, or beg – he wouldn't give this gorgeous bitch the pleasure! Then her heel started getting more aggressive, stabbing him again – again he grimaced and his body heaved with the pain of it – then she stabbed his stomach again, then she gave a right kick into his torso side, then walked around and kicked him on the other side. "Sad little bastard, fucking little ferrit." Then her heels stroked his balls, she played with them, alternately using the toe of her heel, and her spike, to play with the balls and penis; then, with a look of pure evil, she pressed down hard on his penis. At this Seamus screamed as never before, Gráinne laughed baring her teeth. Then she released, walked up closer to his face, her legs now very wide apart, her skirt spread, giving him a good eyeful of her long shapely pantyhosed legs up to her little lacy white knickers, she stood on his torso, and said "Do you like them?... my legs….." and then put her heeled foot on his face. He turned and stretched out his tongue to lick her pantyhosed foot. Then, when he made a motion with his hand to caress her leg, she let him touch it… touch it, then pulled away violently and gave him a mighty kick in the face with her heel. With that, she stormed out, saying "Stay here, I'm not finished with you yet, you little prick!" Seamus was left bleeding, pained and helpless on the floor, knowing the cunt would be back, and there was nothing he could do about it.

   Downstairs, Gráinne explained to Stephen that poor Seamus was sick in the bathroom, she had to give him medicine and would be back in a while. Stephen, paying no attention, merely grunted and got on with his entertainment on tv, though, noticing Gráinne bent over in the living room, he motioned to grab her arse – she rebuffed him straight off, "Forget about it" with a gesture of contempt.

   Returning upstairs, Gráinne closed the bedroom door again and locked it carefully. She went up to Seamus again, gave him a pouting look, spread her legs and then, slowly, very slowly, began dragging the hem of her pencil skirt up her thighs, the hem of the skirt swooshing against the pantyhose on her fine shapely erect pins, Seamus looked up, up, up, half lustful half full of utter hared for this degrading bitch, until the hem of the skirt reached her panties, revealing lacy white lingerie and a tuft of black bush not quite hidden by her panties. Gráinne spread her legs wider, giving him as much of a view as possible, practically climbing onto his body, almost thrusting her panties and privates into his face. Then, with one hand rubbing her hair, with the other she thrust into her panties, slowly, deeply, moving her hand around in those panties, smiling, opening her mouth wide, her tongue coming out, her eyes glazed, rubbing her pussy more and more and more, swaying her shapely pantyhosed legs more and more and more, her pumps squeaking the wooden floor squeak squeak squeak, her other hand now ravaging her hair, her body beginning to sweat, making little groaning sounds to herself. Seamus' cock swelled involuntarily, Gráinne noticed, and then stopped, kicking his erect cock. Seamus howled worse than before!! "Fucking bastard pervert, what do you think you're doing?" Seamus begged sobbingly "Stop, Jesus, for fuck sake, Christ, stop!!" Gráinne laughed, kicked his cock again, and then again.

   Then she dropped her skirt back to its normal position, and came closer, closer, bending down now, her legs arched up, pressed against Seamus' torso on both sides, rolling the hem of her skirt up her thighs again; with her position really spread now, he could see her panties real close, even smell her pussy, a smell both ecstacy-inducing and pure vile feminine toiletry stench. Her panties were wet, from both excitement and piss. Gráinne wet her lips, tongue rolling about, slobbering her lips, tongue licking her mouth, lips and half her face, getting closer and closer to his sweating, distorted, face. Her crotch was plonked down now on his stomach. Looking sultry now, eyes pouting, almost sorrowful, and vulnerable, Gráinne began slowly unbuttoning her blouse, slowly, one, two, three, her heaving chest and bra becoming visible, her breath getting deeper, so was Seamus' as he looked up, lips like rubber with the tension, until finally, Gráinne whipped open her blouse revealing creamy white lacy bra and huge breasts not quite protected by her bra. She drove in deeper to Seamus who was now panting with lust, she could feel his cock swelling behind her, pressed up against her skirt and arse. Then, licking her lips, and almost tearful herself, she began unstrapping her bra… slowly… before finally letting it drop and her breasts bounce out, free. Seamus groaned with a little cry, semen now began dribbling from his cock which had been brutalised by Gráinne but was now firmer than ever. Fixing him with her stare, Gráinne now began feeling her own breasts, rubbing them, squeezing them, playing with them, bringing her mouth and breasts together, rolling her long tongue and rich lips over her own breasts and nipples, inches away from Seamus' face; then, with one hand she reached inside her skirt, and inside her panties, and began rubbing there as well as slobbering over her breast. With her other hand, she reached behind and took Seamus' cock, rubbing it, erecting it, bringing it to full maturity, but also squeezing it harshly, letting her nails torture the poor fucker, a mixture of extreme arousal and extreme suffering for Seamus. She began grunting, getting violent now in her slobbering and rubbing, little moans, tears from her own eyes, alternating with savage looks at Seamus, the two of them driving each other demented. Gráinne then sprang up suddenly, and vigorously rubbed her breasts together, Seamus half rose, jealous that she was taking them 'away' from him. Now screeching in her moans, Gráinne dropped her breasts, yanked her skirt up high, pulled down her knickers exposing her full bush, "Yes!!, yes!!, you fuckin whore, you fucking bitch cunt" shouted a hysterical Seamus, and now Gráinne began frantically, savagely, rubbing her cunt and her thighs, her cunt, sticking her fingers in, making herself cry. Seamus, saliva pouring down his mouth, now reached out and grabbed her pantyhosed legs, rubbing them, up and down, up and down, vigorously, violently, down to her pumps – something about those tortuous heels turned him on VERY strongly – and he rubbed them too, rubbed her legs, watching her masturbate herself, almost raping herself, then, getting himself into a frenzy he tore, tore at her pantyhose, his nails lashing at it like the enemy it was, rubbing her legs brutally now, till Gráinne began crying in ecstasy, then screaming. THEN, "Right, you fucking little pervert boy, you fucking little pathetic failed rapist", Seamus, horrified, stopped, as Gráinne crouched down on him, stuffing his face with her pussy and thighs. After a few seconds he struggled to breathe, but she locked him in, holding his arms – her strength combined with his weakness from the torture, and now also the undeniable appeal of having his face in her privates, smelling her cunt, her sweat and the pantyhose, meant he could not, or would not, break free. After nearly a minute, he struggled frantically to be able to breathe, Gráinne laughed an evil laugh as never before, then got off him, slapped him hard again, again and again across the face, then got herself up, yanked up her skirt, dropped her knickers, half bent down, really crouched directly near his face, and began pissing, PISSING!!! A huge, cascading torrent of piss descended on Seamus' face, overwhelming him, blinding him with her detritus….. Seamus struggled, crying, moaning out loud at this final disgrace as Gráinne, head back, was lost in her own world of triumphant release and domination.