Chapter 7

The first girl to approach me reminded me so much of Natalie that I almost thought I had been transported back to high school again. The face was different, but the mannerisms were the same—fidgety, unsure of herself—but more filled out than Natalie had been. Pleasingly plump you might say. A nice meal for the lions of the Serengeti.

“Hi,” she said. “Want something to drink?”

“Sure.” I stuck my hand out. “I’m Betty.”

“I know,” she said. “All the girls know. I was the only one brave enough to come over here.”

She had stopped looking at me and seemed to be busy studying the floor. And when she slowly, cautiously raised her gaze to peer up at me, I had another Natalie flashback. Those eyes. Everything she said, she said it with those eyes. ‘I trust you. I think I like you. I think I want you to like me.’ All of that she said with that one look.

“My name’s Veronica,” she said.

“No shit.” And then she scampered off toward the keg.

I caught up with her a few seconds later. “My legs work just fine,” I said. “You don’t have to wait on me.”

She shrugged and handed me a plastic cup overflowing with foam.

“Thanks,” I said. “Your name’s really Veronica? You’re not just messing with me? Like Betty and Veronica, from the Archie comics?”

“No,” she said, “but it has a nice ring to it, don’t you think.” She laid her hand on my forearm. I had to admit, it did have a nice ring to it.

Veronica never left my side for the rest of the evening. It was awkward, because it was hard to say more than a few words over the music. Becky was being very cagey about it too—occasionally looking over and winking at me, but generally keeping her distance and flirting with boys.

It was getting pretty late and the party was starting to thin out. The music selection had long since ventured into heavy, dark, industrial tunes, and by that time my ears were a little fatigued. I was just about to make my exit when Veronica leaned in with her lips just below my ear. “Betty,” she said. “Would you like to spank me?”

I’m guessing it must have taken her all night to work up to asking me that, and again I was reminded of Natalie. Was she for real? Or was she just doing what she thought I would like?

“Um,” was all I managed.

“Come on,” she said, and slipped her fingers in with mine.

“Oh, my gawd,” said Desi. “Was Veronica your first? The first quivering bottom you ever pinkened?”

“Yes,” said Betty, “But not my last.” She untucked the crop and used it to stir the air in figure-eights as she said this.

Desi was unfazed. “You said she was… oh, what was it… Pleasingly plump. Was it nice and jiggly? Do you like it that way? ‘Cause I could totally go for seconds on ice cream right now.”

“Desi.” Betty sliced the air in front of Desi with the business end of the riding crop. “My story, okay.”

“Besides, it’s not so much the body type for me, as it is the eyes. The way she looked at me when she asked.”

Karin stuck her tongue out at Desi and then checked the display on her phone. Plenty of memory left. “Did you two become a thing?” Karin asked.

“No, strangely enough we didn’t. But after Veronica, I think a lot of the other girls got up their courage to give it a try. Give me a try. I wouldn’t say I had a harem, but I was never in want of a nice bottom to pinken.

“Did you ever spank Doctor Moreau?” Desi wanted to know.

“No, I did not,” said Betty. “She was not one of the fidgety girls that I seemed to attract.”

“Oh my gawd,” Desi exclaimed again. “I just figured it out. I’m fidgety. I’m a fidgety girl.”

Karin rolled her eyes.

“You’re not fidgety, Desi.” Betty wrapped her arm around Desi’s shoulder and pulled her over to plant a kiss on her cheek. “And even if you were, I’d still love you.”

While Desi was busy basking in Betty’s compliment, Betty continued. “My point was that Moreau was definitely at the top of the food chain. She moved with an easy grace, like she owned the place. She was the lioness of the Serengeti, and she knew it.”

“Hi, I’m Tina,” she said.

I was sitting in an easy chair, in a quieter area off to the side of the main party. I had a couple girls at my feet, and one on my lap. Word had gotten around that not only could I lay on a good spanking, among other things, but also that I could be trusted to never try to go beyond what was agreed upon.

A lot of the bisexual and sexually fluid girls really liked that about me—that and the fact that the word blowjob never entered the equation. Thunderbird was seriously enjoying life.

“I’m Betty,” I replied, looking her in square in the eye. One lioness to another.

Tina dragged another chair over to sit beside me. She never once looked at the girls who were with me—never even acknowledged their presence—she spoke only to me.

“Funny, you don’t look like người lai,” she said. “Where’d you get a name like Betty?”

I remember thinking, Was I supposed to be impressed that she guessed my heritage, and that she speaks a few words of my native tongue? But I was impressed, actually. Like I said, she was a lioness of the Serengeti—top of the food chain—so I settled back and talked with her.

“I’m not mixed race. My father was Vietnamese. I got the name Betty from my Uncle Chris. He was a G.I. married to one of my mom’s sisters.” That’s my theory, anyway, but I didn’t didn’t say it. Don’t let the lioness sense weakness.

“I’m not here to steal your harem, Betty.” She tossed her hair back and waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’m just observing. I’m majoring in psychology. Deviant psychology.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Oh it is,” she said. Tina Moreau closed the distance between us and looked me right in the eyes. “You know Betty, you could have any one of these girls here tonight. Gay, straight, somewhere in the middle. You could fuck them all until they were raw… and they’d thank you for it. You’ve got Chutzpah.”

Tina Moreau stood up and offered her hand. “See you around, Betty.”

Though like she said, I did see her around, but only once more. I was at the gym when I ran into her. She said she was there for a squash match, and that her scheduled opponent stood her up.

I said something like, “Good for you, you win by forfeit.”

To which she answered with, “I’ve got the court. Care to play?”

“Did you?” Desi asked.

“Yep.” Betty smiled. “And she kicked my ass. The damn ball—”

“Doesn’t bounce as high as it seems like it should,” Desi said. “Yeah, I know all about that.”

Karin was grinning at the mere mention of lost squash matches, remembering the times that Desi was so easily defeated by Betty during their Academy days. Betty had obviously upped her game since college.

“Shut up, Karin,” Desi said.

The three women were approaching the front porch of the farmhouse and Karin was still grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“I’m sorry.” Karin snorted. “I’m just remembering those squash balls… at The Academy. When you played Betty and lost… how many times was it, Des?”

“I don’t know,” Betty said, oblivious to Desi and Karin’s teasing, “maybe there was no scheduled opponent that day. Maybe Moreau staged the whole thing as a way to assert her dominance. Some kind of lioness thing. Knowing her as I do now, I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Karin was looking at Desi and holding up three fingers.

“Girls,” said Betty. “Please.”

The three women stepped up onto the farmhouse porch and paused for a moment.

Karin turned her gaze to Betty and put on her best puppy dog eyes. “Mistress,” she whispered, “would you like to spank me?”

Karin moved her hand to the top button of her overcoat and began slipping buttons one at a time. “Please?”, she said. Karin batted her lashes twice.

“Don’t you want to hear about how I became fabulously wealthy almost overnight in the dot-com boom? For your book?”

“Later.” Karin slipped a couple more buttons and her coat was hanging completely open. By this time, Desi had joined in and was unbuttoned halfway down. Neither woman wore anything underneath.

“I thought we could relax and have some tea.” Betty was chewing her lip and fighting a grin by this time. “I could tell you about how I was a consultant for a little internet startup called Kickstarter, and I found Tina Moreau’s name in their database. Decided to call her up.”

Karin and Desi both shook their heads. The two women were standing nude on the farmhouse porch now, each with her overcoat clutched tightly in one hand—shivering, but grinning madly.

“Please, Mistress?” they said in unison.

“Don’t you want to fuck us raw and see if we’ll thank you for it?” Desi said.

Betty reached out for the doorknob with her left hand, but before her fingers even touched the metal, she lashed out with her right, slicing through the air and bringing the crop down hard on two very chilly bottoms. “Come on, you two,” she said. “Inside before you catch cold.”

Betty was slipping the buttons on her own overcoat when she finally turned the knob and pushed the door open.

“Oh my gawd!” Desi wailed, bent over and shuddering on the big king sized bed.

“Need some time to adjust?” Betty asked from her position behind.

“Mm-hmm. It’s been a year since I’ve been plundered like this. Holy, sh—”

“We really should make the time to get together more often, don’t you think?” Betty was smirking as she spoke.

“Mmm,” Desi moaned. “Oh, hell… YES!”

Karin reached out from where she lay with her back propped against the headboard, and politely nudged Desi’s head so that her face was once again planted squarely between Karin’s thighs. Desi resumed lapping with enthusiasm, and Karin arched her back as Desi once again touched her tongue to the magic button.

“Your girlfriend is going to be so sore in the morning,” Betty teased. Her gaze was fixed directly on Karin’s as she spoke.

Karin looked up with fluttering eyes at Betty’s tight body and surprisingly calm face. Desi was bouncing all over the mattress and Betty had barely broken a sweat driving that impossibly large strap-on deep inside Desi’s rear entrance.

“Ohh. Mmm.” Desi moaned.

Karin had already had her turn, and all she could think about now is how nicely Desi’s vocalizations tickled, and if she were to shift just a little… Oh, that’s it!

And Betty was right, both she and Desi were going to be sore in the morning, very sore, but there was no doubt that they would both thank her for it. That was the one and only thing Doctor Tina Moreau ever got right, in Karin’s opinion.

Tina Moreau had a messed up sense of what was meant by dominance and submission—and probably a messed up sense of even the most basic concepts of right and wrong—but she did get one thing right. She knew that Betty could have any woman she wanted, and that she could fuck them until they were raw… and they would thank her for it. Whether it was at a college party or at a Tet holiday reunion didn’t matter.

Because, Karin thought, Betty Nguyen embodied everything a woman wanted in a domme. She was mighty Thunderbird the protector. She was the stalking lioness who claimed what she wanted from the plains. She was the child who grew out of war and strife to become a loving mother-figure. She was all this and more.

“I love you, Mistress,” Karin whispered.

Betty Nguyen smiled.

Thanks for reading. I hope it was a rewarding look into the life of one of my favorite characters.