Dark Widow by Miss Irene Clearmont

Book Details

Dark Widow (Clearmont 1) – George Lamont, the owner of several businesses has a secret that he hides from the world. His dominant Mistress, Miss Irene Clearmont has been installed in an expensive house to be ready for whenever he needs to feel her heels on his back. But, a surprise is waiting for him when he arrives, a scenario, a scene where he is to be the victim of two evil nurses… But, the real surprise is that this is just the first move in a devious plan to steal his fortune and his wife, and that requires that he is disposed of first.

It is not George that Miss Irene has decided is to be the victim but his wife, Denise Lamont, that Miss Irene has her sights set on. Because, then she will possess all of George’s considerable fortune and the mistress decides that she needs to be relieved of that burden! The plan that Miss Irene puts into action involves friends that she treacherously tricks and manipulates, a devilish retraining of the naive widow and the services of her companion in deviancy, Miss Greta.

This novel charts the fall of Denise, the destruction of her life and her recreation as a slave dedicated to the service of Miss Irene and those that she knows. A descent into darkness as she is used, manipulated and used. Femdom domination is a considerable part of this tale, but it also delves into other fetishes with abandon and a merciless rush that ends in the triumph of the woman that deserves it most!

Also included at the end of this novel is a short story that goes back even earlier to when Miss Clearmont was a nurse. A small tale that explains some of the hidden plot line that is referred to in ‘Dark Widow’…

This is the first of four novels that are linked, but can be read alone as well. The first novel by the author to be published, and a savage glimpse into the underworld of female domination slavery that is continued in the other three novels as Miss Irene’s ascendency is established. The fortune that she gains in ‘Dark Widow’ is the beginning of an evil career that will eventually span continents and lead her on to other victories.

This then, is where it begins…

Just a note about this novel. Far back, in 1998 I started to write and created a novel that I named ‘Denise’. ‘Dark Widow’ is that novel completely rewritten, adjusted to the third person and with a different ending… ‘Denise’ is still available to be downloaded from my site as a free download. I have a fondness for this novel…

F/f, Trans/fm, F/m, FM/fm, Revenge, Caging, BDSM, Corporal, Slave, Humiliation.

Strength 8/10 – 80,000 Words

Written 1998 Rewritten 2011/2012 Re-edit 2022

Excerpt: Dark Widow

Prologue – An Invitation To A Funeral

He could feel the rising tension and excitement mount in his belly and throat as he entered the traffic on the busy West Side. His meeting had gone as planned. He now had the ten percent of Graf Fashions that he needed to get onto the board. Of course, much work had to be done. There were details of company structure and organisation that would have to be smoothly run past the new board as well as the usual opposition to change that would need placating or crushing.

No problem. To George Lamont these were the bread and butter of his life, that and his current destination. His excitement was only slightly due to his recent conquest of Graf Fashions. There was another, more urgent tension. He could feel a sexual awakening stretching his nerves and waking his excitement.

As he made his way through endless traffic lights and crowded junctions, his mind was only half on the traffic. The other part of his mind was on his Mistress. Oh, there were plenty of men who had some doll secreted in an apartment on the East Side; his partner Jake Darrel had another woman, as did many of his other business associates.

George Lamont was different. No, he did not want to bed a young willing blonde. His tastes were rather special. He felt that his money allowed him to indulge his exceptional sexual fantasies on the one hand as well as satisfy his wife, Denise. The traffic was moving more easily now that he was on the western highway as he headed towards the well-heeled suburbs scattered on the mainland of New York. As usual, he planned his adventure in his mind, enjoying the fantasy build up to the fantasy reality that would soon consume him.

Reaching over to the seat beside him, he turned off his mobile phone. This was a meeting that should not be disturbed. Leafy trees passed to left and right. Only a year ago he had bought his Mistress this house. Since then he had spent time and money redesigning it to her requirements. The money was nothing. A million for the house and almost half as much again for the interior was money well spent on his hobby. His problem had not been the amount but rather the concealing of the spending.

He could feel the rising excitement as he homed in on the detached villa where, once again he would no longer be the millionaire boss of a huge clothing manufacturer but the lowly chattel of a severe mistress. At first, he had had to tell her what it was that he wanted. What a paradox. The slave was telling the mistress how to punish him!

But that was over four years ago. Now he only had to arrive. George the man would become George the chattel. He could only hope that she would fulfil his fantasy as rarely did she do as he hoped – she was so dangerously inventive and usually had something else in mind. That did not upset him, it was what he wanted after all, her fertile mind keeping him off balance and subjugated, soft and weak to do her bidding.

As usual he pulled his sedan off the road five minutes’ walk from his destination and parked at the grassy rear of another large house, staring at the other dwellings as he made for his destination and trying to guess what secrets they held. That house on the other side of the road there, so respectable with its gabled end and smooth lawns, might reveal even stranger enigmas than his. George reckoned that every person had at least one skeleton in their cupboard. After all he had used knowledge of the kind to grease the wheels of his own business deals. It was… Ah, but there was the house.

Graded lawns and rose trees surrounded it on all sides. The very picture of respectability. Who could guess what its secrets were? He opened the gate and strolled up the gravelled path to stand before a solid oaken door as always pausing for a moment with a deep breath and a feeling of trepidation before his hand pulled the brass chain to ring a bell deep in the interior.

A middle-aged woman opened the door. Severe looking with greying blonde hair pulled up into a bun; she smiled briefly and allowed him to step into the plush carpeted hallway as his heart began to pound. It was not very often that Miss Clearmont herself answered the door personally.

Dressed in a long narrow skirt and matching jacket she looked more like a strict schoolmistress or governess than George’s idea of a sexual fantasy; there were a few age lines around her sharp eyes but fifty years had not spoiled her full figure. In fact ‘full’ was a rather poor word for it. At almost six feet tall with her pointed heels on, her breasts, though hidden by the outfit, would have seemed outsized on a smaller woman and her long silk clad legs were elegantly shaped.

Yes, reflected George, Miss Clearmont was indeed still an immensely attractive woman and her expensive tastes in clothes and perfume sat on her generous frame well. Closing the door behind him with a gentle push she turned to her willing slave.

‘I have a very special experience for you today,’ she said in her slightly husky voice. George just nodded and stood looking at her feet. ‘A once-in-a-lifetime experience!’ ‘I have dismissed the servants today George,’ she continued and with that turned and walked into the house. George followed her wondering what was going to happen today that was not fit for the servants to see. Miss Clearmont had after all hired all the personnel. Often, they had played a part in the sexual games that they played. In fact the only person who was not a servant and took part was the rather severe Mistress Greta who George took to be a close friend of Miss Clearmont.

Led by his mistress George followed to the rear of the house. In the kitchen was a narrow door that he had always taken to be a pantry of some sort. When Miss Clearmont used a large key to open it George could see that it led to a white tiled cellar staircase. This was a part of the house that he had not seen before; strip lighting and white tiles giving it the feel of a hospital corridor.

As George waited Miss Clearmont closed and locked the door behind them. Leading the way with the metallic click of her heels on the tiles, she led him down to a narrow corridor. Several steel doors led off to each side. Pausing at the first she opened it to reveal more white tiles and George could see a totally bare windowless room. ‘I want you naked George, and then I’ll come back for you,’ she said. ‘I have a new little game for us to play; it is called ‘The Evil Nurses’.’

A shiver of anticipation passed down George’s spine as she slammed the door. Now that he was fully in the room, he could see that it was not totally bare of ornament. Above the door was what appeared to be a lens and on the back of the door was a hook with a small bag hanging by its drawstrings. It was a moment before he noticed that the door had no grip on the inside and because it opened inwards, he was trapped at his mistress’s pleasure.

George undressed. Though not a young man he was fit, no spare tire or flab on this executive. From force of habit he carefully folded his clothes and put them in a pile on the floor. Going to the bag he unhooked it and peeped inside. Puzzled, he noticed that it was empty and that the strings were not cord but leather thongs.

He wondered what this new game was going to entail. Miss Clearmont had never shown him this part of the house before. He had bought and paid without seeing. The lens made him uneasy but then he thought that it was probably just a means of seeing into the room rather than a recording system. It seemed to take an age for her to return and George’s sense of time was lost in the bright blankness

of the white room. He knew Miss Clearmont well enough to know that if she saw him looking at his watch in the pile of clothing she would see it as criticism and argument or criticism was always punished.

Severely. One ironic comment a few months ago had been punished by a beating, the marks of which he had had to hide from his wife for two weeks. By now, Miss Clearmont knew all his weaknesses and needs and kept him in line with no effort.

When the door did finally open it was not Miss Clearmont but Mistress Greta who was standing there and George felt a moment of fear. The servants had been dismissed so it would be his mistress’s enigmatic friend who would help punish him. The woman was, for George, an unknown. He always had the feeling she was holding herself back and when the games got severe it was Mistress Greta who pushed him to the limit whilst Miss Clearmont directed the punishments. Now Greta was dressed as a nurse – and not a kindly ward sister but a caricature in full sexual pursuit.

Though rather on the short side she had enormous breasts and well-muscled arms. A short white rubber skirt almost covered the tops of her white sheer stockings. Her feet were perched in white high platform stilettos while a tight-buttoned top allowed George to see her cleavage and the tautly stretched cotton did not hide her erect nipples. A white rubber hood covered her hair and framed her face, contrasting with the black makeup and clear blue eyes. Perched on top was a starched white nurse’s cap.

Mistress Greta stepped into the room. She took the bag from the back of the door and opened it wide. With a step she was in front of him and put the bag over his head. The last sight George saw was the twitch of the lips that for Mistress Greta passed for a smile. With a tug she pulled the drawstrings and knotted them. George felt the air in front of his face warm up with his breath but though he felt stifled he could still breathe. ‘Come on,’ said Mistress Greta in her deep voice.

George felt a tug on the drawstring and yielded. With uncertain steps he followed her out of the room. The woman pulling the leash tugged again and George was led down the corridor to another room. He heard the door being opened and was led inside. Mistress Greta dropped the leash to move behind him and there was a moment of clattering as her metal tipped heels clacked on the tiles before he felt his hands being pulled behind him.

A moment of fiddling and the handcuffs were on. George’s heart was thumping so loud that he could feel the beats in his ears. This was what he had bought. Uncertainty, danger and hazard. He was not only helpless in the grip of Miss Clearmont’s fantasy but also powerless to influence events and his cock already erect responded to the jeopardy by straining upwards.

Excerpt from: Dark Widow