A Taste of “Oil”

 When Kimberly walked in, Margo could tell she’d primped for the meeting. For supper, Kimberly had dressed in a fashion both attractive and reserved. There was little sign of those wardrobe choices now. Her dress was almost indecently short – it probably was indecently short by Bible Belt standards – with a plunging neckline that showed off her decolletage admirably, and when they hugged, Margo’s hands could tell the dress was backless – as her hands slid down Kimberly – very backless. And from all Margo could tell her, the outfit lacked underwear as well.
Margo decided then and there if Kimberly wanted a taste, she’d get one.
“Awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you, little girl?” Margo whispered in Kimberly’s ear.
“More hopeful really, Margo,” the woman replied.
“If you’re to have any hope at all,” Margo hissed, “the term is ‘Madam’, and you’ll use it with every sentence you speak.”
Margo felt Kimberly shiver in the hug.
“Yes, Madam. I understand, Madam.”
Margo released her and stepped back.
“Very good, Kim. Do you mind if I call you Kim? I don’t really care, one way or another, but it’s good to know if it’s irritating you when I do so.”
“I don’t really care for it.”
“I don’t really care for it what?”
Kim’s gaze dropped to the ground.
“I don’t really care for it, Madam.”
“Better… follow me.”
Margo strode off toward the elevator, not looking back to see if Kim was following. It was no surprise to her to hear her new toy’s footsteps close on her heels.
Once inside, Margo looked the woman up and down, all the while wearing a slight sneer on her face.
Finally she finished, and said, “Get out of those clothes. Now.”
Kim started to strip in what she undoubtedly thought was a provocative manner, but Margo stopped her with a short, sharp “No”.
As Kim looked at her in confusion, Margo smiled, cold and steely.
“You’re quite incapable of seducing me, little girl. I said get out of those clothes. I don’t intend to wait. If you aren’t naked, head down, hands together, on your knees in front of me by the time I count three, I’ll be leaving and I won’t be coming back.”
Kim wasted the count of one wearing an unbelieving look on her face… to be met with Margo’s iciest glare. By the count of two (and roughly a half), the dress was down around her feet. In a moment of purest panic, she remembered her shoes and kicked them off furiously, falling to her knees in an uncontrolled motion. The pain shown on her face as she landed, a hairsbreadth before Margo finished “three”.
“Very good,” Margo purred. “You almost failed to please me, but slid in under the wire. On your feet now.”
Kim shot her a resentful glance as she got to her feet, wincing at the pain in her knees.
Margo walked around her, examining her coldly.
“Too much makeup, too much perfume, too much deodorant…” she leaned down to examine Kim’s cunt. “Did you actually use a flavored douche?”
“Yes, Madam.”
“Pathetic. If I’d wanted a tramp I would have hired a whore. You want to be submissive, you come clean and unscented. I’m going to go pick up some… equipment. When I return, I expect you to be freshly showered, and to have made every attempt to ensure I smell nothing but you.”
“How long will you be gone, Madam?”
“What an enchanting question,” Margo replied as she left the room.

Mood: productive
Music: background music, “Banished”

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