Everyone in this story is over eighteen. It seeks to explore lesbian masochism, which I know exists.
It was my husband’s fault. Really. Mike was a horny bastard, and something of a voyeur. And that was how he lost me – simple as that. We used to go to a lot of parties, with other young married couples, many of us fancying each other’s partners like mad. Nothing unusual in that, I suppose.
But Mike had this notion that if I went without underclothes, and he could watch me as I danced with other guys, it was about as sexy as could be. I humoured him, by wearing slinky, silky dresses, and no panties. Actually, I got rather used to the idea myself, and liked the feel of the soft material against my naked skin. I went one better, as summer came around, and I needed to shave to wear a bikini. I thought I might just as well shave off the lot, and found the feeling even more sensual.
Came the day when Mike was invited to a big party to celebrate his firm’s launch of a new product. I dressed in a long grey silk halter-neck backless dress – and nothing else but a pair of high-heeled sandals. My smallish breasts were unfettered under the loose folds of the top, and the skirt clung nicely around my hips and long legs. I took care with my hair, which was long and straight, with a centre parting, and wore some long gold drops in my ears, and a tight gold amulet just above one elbow. I had had my nails done that afternoon, and, looking in the mirror as I put finishing touches to my make-up, I thought – you look good enough to get yourself into trouble, Greta.
We were being picked up by Mike’s colleague, Jake, who lived close by, and his wife Laura, and we talked with them when we arrived. While the other couple went to get some drink for us, Mike whispered, ‘Why don’t you have a dance with Jake? He fancies you like mad.’
I nodded resignedly – what I thought didn’t enter into it, and I didn’t fancy the overweight, ginger-haired Jake one bit. I humoured my husband, knowing that Jake’s seniority in the firm was necessary to his career, and let the sweating guy hold me close, rejecting a feeling of revulsion when his hands wandered over my near-naked buttocks.
‘You’re not wearing much under this dress, are you, Greta?’ he breathed in my ear.
‘Nothing at all,’ I confirmed, and felt his hardness against my stomach – flattering, I supposed, but hardly welcome. I saw Mike watching us as he danced with Laura, a cheerful but not specially attractive blonde, and smiled in his direction, but when the music stopped, I murmured something to Jake about needing to go and get a drink, and we parted company as we left the floor. It was then that I saw her.
She was standing beside the drinks table, surveying the dance-floor, with a haughty air, as if she owned the place. I was rivetted by her incredible elegance and beauty – I had never seen a woman who even approached her looks, never in my life.
She had long straight hair, like my own, but it was platinum blond, and looked fine and silky, falling down her long straight back, to her waist. It contrasted startlingly with her black satin dress, which could only have been by Versace, I thought. It was open down almost to the waist, showing just the right amount of cleavage, and the knee-length skirt looked almost too tight to allow her to walk. Perfect legs, in black, seamed stockings, were perched on impossibly high needle heels. As I approached the table, and she turned to pick up a drink, I saw that the dress was, like mine, backless, but hers was spectaculary so, and the start of her buttock-cleavage showed above the top of the material. Up close, as she turned back around, I saw that she was, indeed, supremely beautiful, with a perfect, olive complexion, and immaculate, understated, make-up. Her eyes, in the brief glimpse I had, were a startling shade of violet, under long, black lashes, tipped with silver – an erotic touch. I was all too conscious that I was staring at her, and turned away, suddenly embarrassed, as her eyes fell upon me. I walked back over to where Mike was standing alone, Laura having just reclaimed her husband.
‘Just who is that?’ I asked, trying to indicate the magnificent blonde I had just been entranced by, without actually pointing. Mike knew who I meant – she stood out like a zebra in a herd of horses.
He laughed quietly. ‘Quite something, isn’t she? Fact is, nobody really knows. Jake’s heard a rumour that she actually owns the company. She’s been coming and going for the last few months, popping in to old Turner’s office, and going off to lunch with him, then disappearing in a taxi. Never speaks with the likes of me. I did hear her speak to Julia the other day, and she had a funny accent.’
‘Mr Turner’s secretary?’
‘The same – our very own black dyke.’
‘Oh please, Mike! Aren’t we in the twenty-first century?’ I walked away. I knew Julia slightly – in fact, she had made a distinct pass at me at the Christmas dinner, but was cheerful in rejection, a tall, smiling, coffee-coloured girl with a lilting Jamaican accent she hadn’t lost despite living in England since she was a child. I resolved to seek her out, and spotted her, in a white broderie anglaise dress, across the big room, talking to another secretary.
It wasn’t until much later that I managed to catch Julia, while I was refilling my glass.
‘Hi Julia,’ I said, ‘how are you enjoying the evening?’
‘It’s OK,’ she replied, ‘but I didn’t think you’d remember my name after….after….’
‘Don’t be silly,’ I said, ‘and I was flattered, anyway.’ I patted her arm, ‘Maybe I’m not quite as…..er..straight as you think I am.’
I had her full attention, and I noticed gold flecks in her big brown eyes as she regarded me. In spite of myself, my pulse quickened at her nearness.
‘I love your dress,’ she was saying, and I found that I enjoyed her admiration. We took our drinks and sat down, her closeness, probably assisted by a few vodka martinis, having a marked effect on me now. But just then, the platinum blonde walked by in front of us, very slowly, obliged to take tiny steps by the tightness of her skirt. She turned and smiled briefly at Julia, then made her way to the ladies room.
It was my chance. ‘Who is that?’ I asked.
‘Elvira Mendoza,’ she said, ‘she owns the company. Do you like her?’
I couldn’t lie. ‘I think she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.’
‘Strangely enough, she asked me who you were earlier. And yes, she is very lovely, isn’t she?’
‘Do you know her well?’
‘It sounds as if you are interested in her,’ she said, with an evasive sort of half smile.
At that moment, Elvira returned from the cloakroom, and paused by our chairs, a cloud of fragrance – Guerlain? – accompanying her, and her nearness itself even more intoxicating than the perfume. She turned towards me, her eyes entrancing.
‘You are Greta, I understand,’ she said, her accent definitely Mediterranean, but not immediately identifiable, ‘Perhaps you would come to dinner with me – shall we say next Wednesday evening?’ Smiling, she handed me an embossed card, then she walked away, the rear view a voyeur’s dream, her naked back, the long cascade of fine white-blond hair, the ultra-tight skirt, Blahnik heels – I was astonished to feel a wetness at my crotch, and worried briefly that it may be staining my dress. I had never entertained a single Lesbian thought in my life – what was happening to me? And it wasn’t only Elvira, I realised with a shock, as I felt Julia’s long-fingered hand on my thigh, and didn’t want to reject her.
‘Oh Greta, you will go, won’t you? I’d give a year’s salary to change places with you.’
I looked at her, and saw that she was smiling. I covered her hand on my thigh with my own, but then saw that Mike was heading in our direction, and that broke the moment.
‘Yes, I believe I will,’ I said, as I stood to join my husband and go to get some food.
All the way home, I wondered what I was going to say to Mike – what excuse I was going to make for going to dinner with his Managing Director – because I had not a moment’s doubt that I should go, in fact I somehow knew that my life was about to change, and change dramatically.
But when we got home, I could see that Mike had other things on his mind. He whirled me around as he closed the front door, and grabbed me, pulling me hard up against him, so that I could feel a massive erection under his trousers as he kissed me hungrily. I pulled away and led him into the lounge, where I sank onto the sofa. When he made to jump onto me, I told him to back off, and made him wait while I slowly raised the hem of my dress, sliding the silk up my legs, keeping my eyes on his, enjoying the anticipation as much as I knew he did. As I revealed my naked, shaven pussy, I slid my tongue out a tiny way between slightly parted teeth, in an unmistakeable signal, then, parting my knees, used two fingers of one hand to spread the outer lips of my pussy, and show Mike my glistening pink cunt.
Showing more control than usual, he slowly dropped to his knees, but, by this time, he had his big, stiff cock in his hand, and, dragging my arse towards him on the seat of the sofa, he impaled himself into my hot, wet vagina, until his balls slapped against my arse-cheeks. I gripped and released him with my cunt-muscles in the way I knew he liked, and moaned with each deep thrust to heighten his pleasure. But unbidden into my mind came images of Elvira’s lovely face, her silken hair which had so briefly wafted across me when she leaned to speak to me, and the unknown delights hidden by the beautiful dress she wore. And it was her body that drove me to a wonderful orgasm as Mike shuddered, stiffened and shot his hot load of cum deep within me.
When he had withdrawn, and was slumped beside me on the sofa, he said, ‘I’ve been so horny tonight – just the thought of you dancing with that bastard Jake, and not a stitch under your dress……’
‘Go and get me a drink, love,’ I said – the best response I could come up with.
Monday came around, and I wasn’t very busy in the hotel reception where I worked.
Mid-morning, and the phone rang. It was Mike.
‘Guess what? I’m off to Chicago tomorrow.’
‘Yes, the USA.’
‘I know where Chicago is, but why?’
‘Turner’s just called me in. He wants me to go to a sales conference.’
‘How long for?’ My mind was racing. If he was going to be away on Wednesday night, I shouldn’t be needing an excuse to go out.
‘Until Friday or Saturday, he said.’
I tried for a wifely posture between being pleased with his opportunity and disappointed at him going away.
Next day Mike left, all smart and eager, brandishing a Club Class ticket, and all I had to do was wait until the following evening. Not strictly true – I had to find something to wear. Caning my credit card, I bought a silky scarlet dress with spaghetti straps, which just showed enough cleavage, and was soft enough to show a hint of nipple through the bodice. The skirt was flared and shortish – mid-thigh length. Under it I would wear a pair of diaphanous white panties and white, lace-top hold-ups. I bought some metal-heeled stiletto sandals, then went and had my hair expensively trimmed, leaving it long, but highlighting it with some blond streaks. As an afterthought, I picked up a pair of big gold hoops for my ears, and, rummaging around later, found several gold bracelets a matching anklet and a gold necklace.
When the time finally came around, I slung a shawl around my shoulders and called a taxi.
The driver let out a low whistle when I handed him Elvira’s card. ‘Quite an address!’ he said, and when we arrived, I saw why, as the car scrunched up a gravel drive and pulled up in front of a broad flight of steps leading to a portico, with fluted columns. I rang the doorbell, and an Asian maid, in demure uniform, came to the door. When I followed her
along a corridor and into a spacious lounge, I saw that she had nice slim legs, encased in black stockings, and wore high heels, but was by no means a ‘cliché sexy maid’ and her black skirt was mid-thigh length.
‘Thank you, Dita,’ said Elvira’s unmistakeable voice, as I was shown into the lounge, and the owner of the voice rose from an armchair where she had had her back to me. I gasped at the sheer erotic effect of her appearance as she came to offer her cheek to be kissed. She wore a sheath of black lace, tight from high neck to ankle, and I could scarcely take my eyes from her nipples, which poked through the lace at the tips of firm breasts, and gave the appearance of having been rouged. I caught a glimpse of something gold glinting below, and thought she must be wearing a chain around her waist under the dress. If she wore anything else under the sheath, I couldn’t tell. The sleeves were wide, but gathered at the wrists, and she seemed to be wearing a lot of rings on her fingers. Her gorgeous hair was swirled up into a French knot.
Her nearness was intoxicating – that same perfume again – and I felt weak at the knees when she said, ‘My dear Greta, you look ravishing – that dress is absolutely lovely on you.’
She motioned for me to sit down and then asked me what I would like to drink. Undecided, I was about to opt for a gin and tonic when she suggested that we both had mojitas, and I agreed readily, so I sat and drank in the magnificent sight of her while I enjoyed the strong green liqueur. I was aware that my dress rode up and that I was showing quite a bit of leg – even that my stocking-tops may be on view, but, in view of my host’s revealing dress, I somehow didn’t think it mattered. We talked about nothing in particular until Dita came in and announced that dinner was ready, then Elvira stood, and reached down for my hand, taking it in her cool one, and led me through a door into an equally capacious dining room, where we sat either side of a large table, set very professionally. We ate a lovely dinner, during which we spoke only about the food and generalities, then Elvira told Dita to serve coffee in the lounge, and led me back there. When we returned, instead of sitting in the armchair as before, Elvira, sat on a big, overstuffed sofa, and patted a space beside her, indicating that I should join her. I needed no second bidding.
Passion always starts me trembling, and I tried to hide the fact when I sat beside Elvira, but her hand settled on my stockinged thigh, her light touch feeling electric.
‘I think you are attracted to me, Greta, aren’t you?’ she said, very quietly.
‘Oh yes!’ I heard myself replying.
‘Perhaps you would like me to kiss you?’ she said, and I sensed a point of no return creeping up on me fast.
‘I…I think so – I mean…yes!’ I said
‘You don’t sound so very sure,’ she said, and when I looked at her lovely face, I saw that she was teasing me. Up close, her eyelashes were so long, so perfect, that they must have been false, and they were again tipped with silver – it must have taken her ages to make up.
But I could wait no longer. ‘Kiss me, please!’ I pleaded, and felt like putty in her hands when she snaked one arm around my neck, and pulled me towards her. Her breath, fragrant and warm, was now over me, and I yielded to her soft lips, opening my mouth as she kissed me, welcoming her questing tongue, letting my own explore the backs of her small, neat, teeth. Her free hand was busy, sliding the thin straps off my shoulders, and gently easing the top of my dress down over the obstruction of my breasts, then returning to cup my small breasts in turn in her palm, before teasing my nipples between thumb and forefinger.
I pulled away from her to catch my breath, and now she had both hands on my breasts.
‘Oh, Elvira!’ I moaned, ‘you are so lovely!’
Her eyes were lidded now, with passion, and I saw that her nipples, poking out through the lace of her dress, were engorged. When I touched them, they felt hard, and rigid, and I bowed my head to take one of them between my lips. It was Elvira’s turn to moan, and when I bit gently down on the little red bud, she moaned harder.
Then she pushed me away, and I wondered if I’d done something wrong.
‘Wait!’ she said, and stood up. She minced off out of the room, and as I watched her go, I could now be sure that the only thing she wore under that lace sheath was a gold chain, the loose end of which dangled across her buttock.
In no time at all, she was back, transformed. Now she was wearing a short white silk wrap, open down the front, and nothing else but the gold chain. I noticed that her pussy, like mine, was completely clean-shaven. When she returned to sit beside me, in her attendant cloud of fragrance, I could have died from sheer joy. Her body was as close to perfection as it is possible to be, with a flat stomach, long, slender legs, and lovely, firm breasts.
‘Now, Greta, my dear, I think I am more….accessible, no?’ she smiled, ‘do you still like me?’
‘Oh yes!’ I said, all reservation now having fallen away.
‘Then I should like you to kiss my pussy. Will you do that?’
Right then, I would have gladly done anything she asked. ‘Yes.’
‘Good, because you have excited me, my dear.’ She lay back on the big sofa, and raised one leg, so that her crack was exposed in as lewd a manner as possible, then, trailing a hand between her legs, she opened the outer labia just as I had done for Mike a few days before. I saw that her cunt was sparkling with moisture in the light, pink and inviting. I sank to my knees on the floor and began to explore her innermost secrets with my tongue, seeking out her clit as only a woman can do, biting it lightly, tonguing the hardening nub, then plunging my tongue deep inside her cunt, making her writhe and squirm with pleasure. But her clitoris was the key, and when I returned to it, she began to groan and her breathing became ragged, then she went completely rigid, grabbed my hair painfully, shouted something I didn’t understand, and gushed creamy liquid all over my face.
When finally she let go of me, she produced a fluffy white towel, as if by magic, from under a cushion, and helped me clean her juices from my face.
‘I suppose I should apologise,’ she said.
‘Oh no,’ I replied, still quivering with excitement, ‘I almost came too.’
‘Stand up!’ she said, and I did so.
‘Raise your skirt!’ I did that too, and she reached up and pulled down my white panties.
‘Now kneel down in front of the sofa, darling, will you.’
Again, I did as she asked, and she got up and walked across the room, then returned, to kneel behind me. Then I felt her squeezing some kind of gel from a tube and smearing it arund my anus. I started to feel slightly alarmed. Mike had often asked if we might try anal sex, and I had always turned the idea down, thinking it would hurt far too much. Before I had time to protest, however, Elvira was poking a long-nailed finger into the very portals of my virgin arsehole, twisting slightly and pushing ever so slowly – and I had to admit it was giving me not only pain, but a certain amount of pleasure. Then, just as suddenly as she had begun, she withdrew her finger, and I felt a new sensation as a smooth, cool object was introduceed into my rectum. Slowly at first, then with a thrust, she shoved it in, way past my anal sphincter, causing me unimaginable agony, and making me scream.
‘There, there, darling,’ intoned Elvira, as if she were talking to a baby, and started to work the slim dildo in and out, as I started to know a pleasure I hadn’t known existed. I moaned and moaned, then felt the intense, indescribable joy of a mounting orgasm, rushing to meet me until it enveloped my very soul, and took me to a new dimension, a place where only ecstasy existed.
We lay together on the sofa then, sated, Elvira wearing only her flimsy wrap, me dressed but minus panties, and she called for Dita to bring us coffee and cognac. The young Asian didn’t turn a hair when she saw her mistress in such a compromising position, but served the drinks wordlessly.
‘Why don’t you spend the night with me here, then we can talk a little?’ said Elvira at length, ‘I know your husband is away.’ (Of course she did!)
‘But he may phone me.’
‘He won’t. Trust me.’ she said. I wondered how she could know that, but my desire to spend the night with her over-rode any other considerations, and I thought no more about Mike.
‘I’d love to spend the night with you,’ I said. Elvira called Dita, and told her to ‘assist me’ and that I was staying the night. Dita bade me follow her, and I soon found myself in a sumptuous bathroom, with a walk-in bath. Dita stood impassively as I undressed, and took my clothes from me, then held my hand as I stepped down into the warm suds. She helped soap me all over, not seeming to care that she got quite wet in the process, then gave me a huge white towel as I stepped out. When I was dry, she gave me a towelling robe, and motioned for me to sit at a dressing table, and dried my hair, then brushed it carefully. She handed me a long white silk nightgown, far more luxurious than anything I possessed, then led me to the bedroom next door, where Elvira, wearing a similar gown, was sat beside a huge four-poster bed, smiling. I realised I was quite tired, and gratefully slipped between satin sheets. The feeling of Elvira’s silk-clad body entwined with mine was, I thought, the most wonderful thing that I had ever known, and that was my last waking thought.
When I awoke, there was a distinct smell of coffee from somewhere in the house, and I was alone. There was a negligee which matched my nightgown beside the bed, so I slipped it on, and went out to seek Elvira.
She was seated at a table in a big dining kitchen, Dita in attendance, pouring the coffee I had smelt. She looked up at me and smiled.
‘Did you sleep well, darling?’
‘Yes, thank you, very well indeed.’
‘Good. Now have some breakfast.’
As I enjoyed good coffee and a fresh croissant, Elvira finally decided to talk to me.
‘I don’t think you’ve ever been with a woman before, darling, have you?’
I started to form a guarded reply. The fact was, I had once had a kiss and cuddle with a girl at school, but it didn’t amount to much.
‘No, don’t bother to reply,’ she said, ‘I can tell.’
I smiled sheepishly.
‘Well, did you like it?’
‘It was quite wonderful.’
‘So you’d like to see me again?’
‘I couldn’t bear to think of not doing so.’
She reached out and put her long-fingered, immaculately-manicured hand over mine.
‘I know you have to go to work this afternoon, but we have a few hours together first, so perhaps we can spend them profitably.’
‘I’d like that.’
What she said next surprised me considerably. ‘I’m going to take you to have your tongue pierced.’
‘But….but, I’ve never had a piercing, apart from my ears, of course. Isn’t it uncomfortable?’
‘Probably a little, but surely you learned last night that a little discomfort is sometimes worthwhile?’ She was smiling, and I saw little tell-tale wrinkles, which for the first time had me wondering how old she was. But I was still not satisfied.
‘But why my tongue?’
‘You are really quite naïve, darling. It is for my pleasure, of course!’
‘Of course, if you want any more piercings, it can be arranged,’ she said.
‘I’ve often thought of having my navel done,’ I said.
‘Then you shall have that done at the same time. Get dressed, and we’ll go into town.’
I suddenly realised that I only had the dress I had worn the night before, and said I ought to go home and change, but Elvira said, ‘No need, darling, we’re about the same size. I’ll have Dita find you a skirt and blouse to wear.’
So it was that a couple of hours later, when Elvira dropped me off at the hotel, my mouth felt extremely odd, with the new silver dumbell stud, which felt about a foot long in my tongue, whereas I could scarcely notice the little ring I had had placed in my navel, with its dangling silver pendant. Elvira had also given me a heavy silver waist chain, ‘to remind me of her’ – as if I needed anything!
‘What’s all this then?’ asked Kathy, the girl I was relieving on reception, ‘being dropped off in a flash Mercedes now, are we?’
‘Jealousy will get you nowhere,’ I replied.
I had ample time that afternoon and evening to think about what had happened to me. Was I a Lesbian now? There seemed to be no simple answer to that one, but I was sure, beyond doubt, that I had found pleasure with Elvira that I could never have dreamed of before, and the very thought of her conjured feelings of love for her, of…..what? Yes, of being dominated by her, being in her…. what was the word? In her thrall, that was it. God, what had happened to me? After all, I hadn’t made a murmur of dissent when she took me to have my tongue pierced, and I had, in the past, criticised kids, pop stars and the like, for just that sort of decoration. And it had already been noticed, at least by one of the bell-hops, who made a snide remark, until I told him to get lost. I was sure he muttered ‘Dyke,’ under his breath as he walked away.
Elvira had told me that Dita would come and pick me up when my shift finished at nine o’clock. ‘I know your husband won’t be back for a couple of days,’ she had said, knowingly. I got to wondering how she knew that Mike wouldn’t phone me, and decided that she could probably control that too.
As nine approached, I became increasingly fidgety, and could hardly wait to see the pretty young Asian, a long coat covering her maid’s uniform, when she called for me right on the dot of nine. She ushered me to a small but luxurious 4×4, and drove expertly through the city to Elvira’s mansion. I felt a thrill of anticipation as I mounted the steps and entered her front door. When Dita led me into the lounge, Elvira was waiting for me, standing by the fireplace. My heart missed a beat. She was again wearing black, but instead of last night’s lace sheath, she now wore a wholly transparent
Gown of some silky nylon material, and was completely naked beneath, except for the gold waist-chain, which somehow heightened her nakedness. Her hair was loose and fell in a fine cascade around her lovely face. I gasped.
‘You like my dress?’ she asked.
‘I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,’ I said, truthfully.
‘Go and have a shower. Dita has laid out something for you, darling. I’ll see you in a while.’
I did as I was told, putting on a shower-cap, as I didn’t want to have to spend time drying my hair. When I walked into the little dressing room adjoining the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, I found that Dita had, indeed, laid out something for me. It was a white satin corset, and there was a pair of white stockings beside it, and a pair of tremendously high-heeled, platform-soled sandals below on the floor. I picked up the corset and was wondering how on earth I was going to get it around me – it was so small – when I sensed that Dita was behind me.
‘Mistress Elvira says I help you,’ she said, and, smiling, held the whaleboned garment up for me to put on. I had to unfasten my chain, and when the corset was buttoned to its little hooks up the front, it was, indeed, very tight, constricting my waist quite tightly. But Dita hadn’t finished, and, stepping around behind me, seized the cords which laced the corset in the back and yanked them painfully tight, so I thought I should be asphyxiated.
‘Oh!’ I cried, ‘that’s so tight!’
‘You look beautiful,’ was Dita’s response, as she helped me cinch up the stockings. I looked at my image in the mirror then, and saw an image of sheer sexuality, my breasts bare above the lace top of the corset, my stomach equally naked, enhanced when Dita clipped the silver chain back in place. I could scarcely walk in the heels, but managed to look proud as I entered the lounge and the presence of Elvira.
‘Very nice,’ she remarked, ‘I think you are starting to learn the value of discomfort – and pain – as a necessary preliminary to sexual pleasure?’
‘Yes,’ I said, drinking in her loveliness, ‘but it is your nearness that gives me true pleasure.’
‘Kiss me, then, I want to feel your stud, darling.’
We kissed for a long time, and it was the most wonderful kiss I remembered having had, my tongue, with its slightly sore stud seeking out hers, as she expertly fingered my naked cunt, until I thought I might cum. But she knew when to stop, and had other things in store for me.
‘You know a little of discomfort, darling. Now I’d like to introduce you to a little pain, if that’s alright with you?’
‘Oh, Elvira, you can do anything you want to me. I love you,’ I breathed, and she had a box like a sewing box in her hand. Out of it she took two elaborate silver contrivances, which she held in one hand, whilst tweaking one of my nipples with other. Then, I felt a sharp, exquisite pain, as she screwed down the silver clamp hard onto my nipple. I cried out softly, but she ignored it, and proceded to repeat the operation on my other nipple, then joined the two with a length of silver chain.
‘When you are used to them, we can increase the pain a little by hanging weights on the chain,’ she said, smilingly, ‘Now I’d like you to kneel on the floor, darling, and I’m going to fit something you will have to wear all night. I’ll show it to you.’
She took from the box a conical object in black shiny plastic. At its base was a stalk with a flange attached. I knew instinctively what it was, even though I’d never seen one before.
‘It’s a butt-plug, isn’t it?’ I said, ‘but I’ll never get anything that big into my anus!’
‘Of course you will, darling,’ she said, ‘and it will open you nicely.’
I knelt with much difficulty, restricted as I was by the ultra-tight corset, and obediently parted my knees, as Elvira smoothed gel all around my anus, then she started to work the huge plug slowly, slowly, into me. I was in agony, feeling sure I was being split apart, as the foreign body invaded my almost-virgin arsehole, then there was an audible ‘plop’ and at last the flange was flush with my arse and the dreadful instrument was in place, though how I should be able to endure it all night I had no idea.
‘Oh Elvira, I’m in agony,’ I said.
‘I know, darling, but I’d like you to lick me now,’ she replied, and sat in an armchair above me, raising the hem of her diaphanous gown and opening her slender legs wide, revealing her sweet-scented pussy, which she fingered gently, opening her lips in an invitation I eagerly accepted. Now my newly-studded tongue really came into its own, flicking at her hardening clit, then grating against the walls of her cunt as I lapped her, bringing moans of pleasure from her, and causing her to squirm delightedly. Soon she produced, as if by magic, a glass dildo, which seemed to consist of a series of balls, the size of ping-pong balls, about eight inches long, with a handle at one end. Passing me the handle, she inched forward on her seat and threw her legs out over the arms, then used both hands to pull her arse-cheeks wide, so that I could see exactly where she wanted the dildo. I worked it carefully into the offered anus, but met no resistance – in fact her velvet tunnel seemed to have a sort of peristaltic quality, sucking in the huge dildo as I helped it on its way. She groaned loudly as I started to work it in and out, in and out, hearing liquid suction sounds as I did so, and, all the time I was flicking at her clitoris with my tongue, and then plunging the fingers of my free hand deep into her warm, wet cunt. Quite suddenly, she let out a fearful cry, so that I thought I may have hurt her, but she stiffened, grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head hard into her pussy, and squirted copious quantities of her fluid all over me. At that moment, I too came, without having had the need to even touch myself. It was the first time in my life that that had happened to me.
When we had bathed together, Elvira having removed my nipple-clamps, causing me more pain than when she put them on, we put on matching white baby-doll nightdresses with fur trim at hem and neckline, then climbed into bed. Elvira fell asleep before me, and I lay for a while wondering what in heaven’s name was happening to me. A few days ago, I was in a fairly ordinary, workable marriage to Mike, with no more on my mind than what to cook for dinner, and now…..here I was, in bed with another woman. I looked at her in the moonlight that seeped through from the uncurtained window – God, she was so beautiful! I knew then that there was to be no going back for me, that the last two days had changed my life. Lesbian? Was I? It was too early to say – I didn’t like ‘handles’ anyway – we are all what we are. I was all too conscious of the great plug which had been shoved into my poor arsehole, and strove to get comfortable, but must have managed it, because the next thing I knew it was daylight, and Elvira was kissing my cheek to awaken me, her hand gently stroking my slit. I had never known such a sweet awakening.
‘You managed to put up with the butt-plug, then, darling?’ she asked.
‘I didn’t know I had an option.’
‘Oh, you always have an option,’ she said, her eyes serious as she regarded me, ‘you could just leave.’
‘No, Elvira, I couldn’t, not now. I love you,’ I said.
‘Then masturbate for me, darling, will you – I’d like to watch.’ She sat back, throwing a pillow behind her, and I looked at her questioningly. I had never masturbated in front of anyone before, not even Mike. Hell, especially not Mike, I thought.
‘Go on then,’ she said, a slight hardness now entering into her voice.
I looked at her, her long, slender legs, her flat stomach, naked below the fur hem of her baby-doll, her beautiful hair slightly tousled, luscious mouth slightly open as her eyes regarded me, and suddenly all I wanted was to do as she asked – anything she asked.
I parted my lips and started to massage my clit, always a sure way to arouse me. I quickly became damp, and when I poked two fingers deep into my cunt, the pleasure was starting to well up, and my clitoris was now hard and extended. I saw that Elvira’s chest was rising and falling as if she were breathing more rapidly, and that her own hand had now strayed to her pussy. As I moaned, I fancied she did too, and it wasn’t long before I felt the indescribable joy of a mounting orgasm building, building then finally overtaking me, and leaving me utterly spent.
‘There, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?’ said Elvira.
‘It was lovely,’ I said, truthfully.
After breakfast, Elvira announced that she had to go into the office. I asked if I could take out my plug, and she told me I could have a rest from it, but that I should wear it to work that afternoon. ‘I’ll be home to lunch anyway,’ she said, ‘why don’t you have a swim while I’m gone?’ I hadn’t realised that the big house sported a pool, and was surprised when Dita showed me the heated indoor one, tucked away in a wing of the house.
‘I don’t have a costume,’ I told the Asian girl.
‘Me neither,’ she grinned, and the two of us swam naked, then lay and relaxed beside the pool. She had a nice, lithe body, and I wondered briefly if Elvira had occasionally taken her pleasure with Dita too. I decided it didn’t matter.
I was by now getting used to being dressed by Dita from what appeared to be an endless stock of clothes that Elvira had, and was wearing a little halter-neck cotton print minidress, no underwear (none had been offered) and the inevitable heels when Elvira returned, severe in a lilac business suit with a very tight skirt, her hair pinned up tightly.
‘Hello, darling,’ she said, I have some news for you. Your husband has been asked to stay on for a week longer in the Chicago office.’ She looked at me searchingly, and saw nothing other than pleasure at the news.
Dita had made us a nice lunch, and we sat and enjoyed it, but Elvira was clearly building up to saying something to me, wondering, I suppose, if the time was right. Finally, she seemed ready. ‘You said last night, that I could do anything I wanted with you. Did you mean that?’
‘I love you, Elvira, I’d go to the ends of the earth for you.’
‘But you scarcely know me. You can’t yet know what I want from you.’
‘Then tell me, I’ll give you what you want.’
‘I’ll get Dita to take you to work, now,’ she said, looking at her Cartier watch, ‘so put your butt plug back in.’ So she hadn’t forgotten.
As I was slipping a coat over my dress, Elvira stroked my hair, and said, ‘Tonight, I’d like to whip you. Will you let me?’
Someone – it must have been me – said ‘yes’ in a tiny voice.
My mind was in turmoil all afternoon and evening. Had Elvira really said that? Did she really want to whip me? And what did I think to that? I could, I supposed, have simply gone home, sent a note to Elvira, perhaps, and waited for my husband to return. But then…….. I pictured myself, being whipped, chained up, perhaps, like ‘O’ in that weird film. (that had, in fact, turned me on, so that I had had to bring myself off halfway through)
Bloody hell, Greta, what was happening to you? I hated violence, and couldn’t understand women who put up with being crudely beaten by their husbands, yet here I was, having had my nipples tortured the night before, wearing a butt-plug which had been hell at first, but was admittedly less painful as I got used to it. But I had agreed to be whipped! And, much worse, the idea was getting me excited – very excited!
As the time for my pick-up approached, I became more and more nervous, but realised with a shock that I was actually looking forward to the new experience I had been promised, but more than anything, looking forward to once again being with Elvira, to seeing her lovely face, touching her, feeling the caress of her lips, losing myself in her heady fragrance, and, above all, submitting to her, revelling in her domination of me. I had never felt that with a man, not Mike, nor anyone.
Dita appeared just after my relief girl had shown up, and I had changed out of my uniform, wearing a black silk minidress and black hose over high heels in the warm evening. I wondered again if Elvira had………but put the idea out of my head.
I could hardly wait to get back to the mansion, and was quivering with anticipation when we arrived.
Elvira was waiting for me. She was certainly one for ringing the changes, I thought. She had her hair pulled back severely from her face, but it fell in a pony-tail down her back. She wore a black shiny dress, knee-length, that looked as if she had been poured into it, so tightly did it fit her from its high neck to her knees. I fancied it may have been latex or something similar. Her legs were encased in seamed black stockings, and she was perched, as usual, on extremely high heeled patent shoes.
‘I was a little concerned, Greta, my dear. I thought you may have had second thoughts.’
‘Oh no, Elvira.’
‘Then I think perhaps you should start to address me as “Mistress Elvira” – it would be appropriate, don’t you think?’
‘Yes…… Mistress Elvira.’ It only felt a little strange – I supposed I was already thinking of her as my mistress by then.
‘Right, darling, Dita will take you and prepare you. I so enjoy ritual, you know.’ She nodded to the maid, who had been standing by, and the girl beckoned to me to follow her to the bathroom.
While I slipped out of my clothes, the Asian girl got the walk-in bath to the right temperature, then held me by the hand as I stepped in. Once I was sat down on the tiled bench at one side, she set about soaping me all over, not seeming to care that she was getting soaked, dress and all, as she did so. I found her touch very arousing, and when she leaned over to soap my thighs, I pulled her gently over the side into the bath. She giggled prettily, and I loved the way her nipples stuck out proudly through the sopping wet silk of her dress. She let me kiss her briefly, then pulled away to continue her work.
When I was dry, and Dita had changed into a fresh uniform, she oiled me from head to foot with lovely-smelling essence, then fetched me a long, finely-pleated, sheer white gown, unbelted, so that it fell from my uncovered breasts to the floor. It had wide sleeves too. I wore only my waist chain and a pair of high-heeled mules apart from that, and, when Dita had brushed my hair until it shone, I looked in the mirror – a ‘sacrificial virgin’ looked back. As an afterthought, I pulled out my butt-plug and left it behind. Walking without it now felt a little strange.
I walked into the lounge, and Elvira was standing in her customary place, by the fireside. She turned to me. ‘You look lovely, darling. Are you ready?’
Harshly, she repeated, ‘Are you ready? You must reply.’
‘Yes, Mistress Elvira.’
‘Good, kneel on that cushion, will you my dear.’ She pointed at a big, embroidered cushion on the floor, with her toe. Off to one side, she had wheeled into place a huge mirror, so that I had only to turn my head to watch the proceedings. Obediently, I gathered up my gown and knelt. I hadn’t realised that Dita had followed me into the room, and Elvira was whispering to her. The dusky girl scampered away, but was back in seconds with folds of braided leather I took to be a whip. Then she carefully lifted my gown off over my head, so that I was left, naked and vulnerable, my new mistress’s plaything. Dita twisted my hair up deftly into a knot.
Elvira showed me the whip. It was, indeed, a braided leather one, and looked an awful, cruel implement, though I had no experience of such things.
‘I’m going to hurt you now, darling,’ said Elvira, ‘you know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes Mistress Elvira,’ I managed, though my mouth was unaccountably dry.
She stood back and I heard the hiss of the leather thong as she gave it a trial swish.
I scarcely dared glance at the mirror at that point. There was never a moment’s doubt in my mind, however, that I wanted to feel my mistress’s whip on my back, and I could already feel wetness starting to form in my depths. I couldn’t have explained the feeling to all the world’s shrinks.
When the first stinging lash fell across my back, though, it hurt terribly, and I gave an involuntary gasp. I was aware of the very tip of the thong snaking around under my breasts, and leaving a red wheal where it had struck.
I plucked up the courage to take a look in the mirror, and saw Elvira’s lovely eyes lidded with passion as she wound herself up to strike me again – I thought she was the sexiest human being I had ever seen, somehow revelling in the restraint of her extra-tight skirt. I looked away as the wicked lash hissed through the air and fell with a resounding ‘crrrack’ across my buttocks. I felt sure she had drawn blood, and twisting slightly, looked over my shoulder into the mirror, but was rewarded by the sight of a livid, thin stripe, right across the width of my behind. It stung horribly, but when Elvira said, ‘Do you want me to stop, darling?’ I heard myself saying, ‘No, Mistress Elvira!’
One more vicious stroke across my lower back, and Elvira dropped to her knees beside me, and inserted her hand into my crack. Whether it was that action which caused me to be wet, or whether the whipping had already made my juices start to ooze, I couldn’t have said, but Elvira said, ‘You’re really wet, darling, aren’t you? I think you like to be whipped.’
With that, she stood again, and resumed flogging me. With each blow, I looked at the damage it had done to me, and saw that it was no more than superficial – but it stung like hell. After three or four more strokes, one landed just below my shoulder-blades, and the very tip of the thong curled around to kiss an engorged nipple. I cried out, but this somehow seemed to encourage Elvira to whip me harder, and the next terrible stroke fell on my lower back, the leather lash wrapping itself around my tender belly.
I came, a rushing, tearing, all-enveloping tornado of an orgasm that almost made me black out, and caused Elvira to throw down the whip, and drop to my side, cradling me in her arms.
‘I’m sorry, darling,’ she said, and there were, indeed, tears in her eyes, when I turned to face her, ‘I know how much that hurt you.’
I looked ruefully at her, wondering if she really did know how much her ferocious lash hurt. She read my mind. ‘I too have been whipped,’ she said, to my surprise, ‘now let’s go to bed, shall we?’
A little later, Elvira held me tenderly, soothing my wounded back and buttocks with a scented gel, and talked of her plans for me. She spoke of things which should have had me running for the door, but I was intoxicated by her nearness as she told me how she would like to see me chained to the wall, how she would whip me until I bled, pour hot wax onto my breasts, cane me to the limit of my endurance, and many, many more things. Her soft voice, as she described such awful punishments to me, seemed to belie the things she was speaking of, and her knowing hands, delving now into my cunt, now introducing two long fingers deep into my arsehole, very soon brought me to another, much more gentle, climax, in which I lost myself completely as waves of pleasure swept through my body.
‘Oh, Mistress Elvira, I’ve never been so happy!’ I said, yawning, and meant it. I fell sound asleep.
Next morning was my day off, and Elvira told me she was taking me to lunch with a friend who lived the other side of town. She told me over breakfast that, as usual, Dita would have clothes ready for me after I had taken my bath, and I found that she had laid out for me a short Thai silk dress, unbelted, all tiny pleats, which fell over my breasts from the gathered neck to mid-thigh, light as a feather, so that the slightest breeze would display everything underneath. And underneath, I was clearly not meant to wear panties. I had been given a minimal white suspender belt and white stockings – that was all – apart from a pair of very high silver stiletto-heeled sandals. My waist-chain draped prettily over the suspender-belt, I thought, should I have the occasion to be seen without the dress. I grimaced when I thought about Elvira’s tastes, and how that eventuality was quite likely.
Elvira herself was as magnificent as usual, in a backless maroon velvet cocktail dress with an ultra-tight skirt over black hose and patent heels, ropes of real-looking pearls around her elegant neck. Her hair was up in an elaborate knot.
Dita drove us to another big mansion, where the door was answered by another uniformed maid, this time maybe Korean or Thai – I couldn’t say. She led us into a spacious lounge, where we were greeted by an olive-skinned beauty, whom Elvira introduced as Mila. Mila was shorter than Elvira, and quite slight in build, though what immediately came to my notice were her eyes – they were huge, and so dark they were almost black. It was also not at all easy to take my eyes off her body, encased, as it was, in a gold cat-suit, which fitted her like a second skin. A glittering shawl flung around her shoulders obscured the view of her breasts, but the rest of her was moulded to perfection by the suit.
‘What a lovely suit,’ said Elvira, ‘I can’t think how you ever got into it!’
‘Mmm,’ said Mila, ‘I suppose I could answer that in various ways.’ She licked her luscious lips in a suggestive fashion, so that I began to see what sort of a lunch date this may turn out to be. But Mila was still talking. ‘You must meet my new girl, she won’t be a minute. But in the meantime, this lovely creature must be yours?’
I almost bridled at the possessive description, but then thought – yes, I suppose I was!
Elvira introduced me to her friend. ‘This is Greta. I have high hopes for her. Isn’t she lovely?’
‘Why yes, darling, she certainly is. Has she been whipped yet?’
‘Just a little.’
‘And how did she respond?’
‘I think she liked it.’ Then, to me, ‘Didn’t you darling?’
‘Yes, Mistress Elvira.’ Did I? I tried to get clear my thoughts on what had happened to me the night before, and knew then that I had answered truthfully, that pain, for me, was going to become a need, a way of life even. Had I really enjoyed it, though? Was it possible to actually enjoy being hurt? I sneaked a look at my mistress then, and knew, knew with perfect certainty, that she could hurt me much more than she already had, and I should only love her more deeply. But my thoughts were suddenly interrupted.
‘Look, here’s Sarah,’ said Mila, and we looked to the door to see a petite girl, with long, raven-black hair, dressed so identically to me that I was led to wonder, with some amusement, if it were some kind of ‘slavegirl’s uniform’ – her dress was red, whilst mine was green, but otherwise it was exactly similar. Sarah curtsied to Elvira in a curiously old-fashioned way, and shook hands formally with myself.
The maid served us all with coffee, and we sat around making small-talk for a while, then Mila said, ‘Sarah has been with me for two weeks now, and she would like to be punished, wouldn’t you, my dear?’ She held the girl’s chin in the crook of her hand and looked directly at her as she spoke.
‘Yes, Madam,’ said Sarah, her voice steady and forthright.
‘It’s what she’s really been waiting for,’ said Mila, ‘but I’ve made her wait.’
‘You are so cruel, darling,’ said Elvira, chuckling.
‘Yes, I am,’ said Mila, ‘go now, Sarah and ask Li to prepare you – we don’t want to keep our guests waiting any longer, do we?’
Sarah got up, gave another little curtsy and left. We had another cup of coffee and some rather nice almond pastries, as we talked, incongruously, about the news in general.
Perhaps fifteen minutes passed before a transformed Sarah returned. She walked in, holding up the skirt of a long, natural cotton dress as she negotiated the step down into the lounge. The dress was tied at the waist with what looked like a hemp rope, and gave her the appearance of a medieval sacrifice – perhaps a deliberate intention on the part of her mistress – and this effect was heightened by the fact that she wore leather cuffs at her wrists, into each of which was let a dull metal ring. The maid, Li, was just behind her.
Mila stood and walked up to face Sarah. As she did so, her body was moulded by the thin gold material of the cat-suit, her breasts, now that she had discarded the shawl, firm and pointed, nipples jutting.
‘You are wearing too much make-up! It is not appropriate!’ she snapped, and slapped Sarah hard across the cheek, bringing tears to her eyes.
‘I’m sorry, madam,’ she whispered.
‘We’ll see how sorry you are, you slut,’ she rapped, ‘undress her, Li!’
The maid stepped up, and unfastened the buttons at the back of Sarah’s dress.
‘Quickly, girl!’ said Mila, ‘or you’ll be the one to feel the whip.’
Li slid the dress from Sarah’s shoulders, and, sarah having already untied the rope at her waist, she was soon naked. Then I saw that she had restraints at her ankles just like the ones on her wrists.
Mila strode over to the wall, and drew back a curtain I had supposed to be covering a window, revealing a St Andrew’s cross, with metal rings at its extremities, from each of which dangled a snap-link.
Sarah walked calmly – proudly, even – towards it, then turned and looked back at her mistress. Mila spun her around to face the wall.
‘Your back, for the first time, my dear,’ she said, and proceded to clip Sarah into a spreadeagled position against the cross.
Once she was satisfied that Sarah was nicely secured, Mila, stood beside her, lifted the girl’s long, heavy mane of hair from her ear, and said, ‘You really do want me to hurt you, don’t you, darling?’
‘Yes, madam,’ replied Sarah, as Mila thrust her hand up between her legs.
‘Oh my, she’s so, so wet!’ she exclaimed, ‘Li, fetch me the tray, please.’
Li was at her shoulder almost instantly, bearing a big tray with an assortment of whips and other instruments. I wondered then if, although Mila had said that Sarah hadn’t been with her long, she wasn’t the first girl to be so treated – Li certainly seemed to know her role.
Mila took from the tray a leather flogger, consisting of many narrow strands of brown leather, bound into an ornate handle. Then she simply stepped up behind Sarah, drew back her arm, and began lashing her across the white flesh of her back with considerable force. Sarah made no sound, and apart from writhing a little, gave no sign of being in pain, though to judge from the redness and the tracery of deeper red lines which started to show against the pallor of her skin, she must have been in agony.
After a few minutes, Mila stood back and addressed the patient, waiting Li.
‘I don’t think I’ve been harsh enough, do you?’
Li spoke – the first time I had heard her, ‘No madam. Perhaps try crop?’
Mila smiled and exchanged the flogger for a long, black riding crop. Then she hesitated, and standing back, gestured to Elvira to take a turn.
Readily, Elvira got to her feet and took the crop from her friend, walked up and took a trial swish through the air with the cruel implement. Then she thrashed Sarah viciously across her lovely rounded buttocks with it, drawing a whimper of pain from the brunette, and raising an instant red welt across both cheeks of her arse.
I was beset, all of a sudden, by an inexplicable surge of jealousy. My own lovely mistress was whipping someone else, when it should have been me! But at the same time I found the scene irrepressibly exciting, and my hand found its way, unbidden, up under the hem of my short dress, to the outer lips of my rapidly moistening pussy. So intrigued I was, as Elvira’s arm drew back again and again and her brutal strokes were now eliciting cries of agony from Sarah, that I failed to notice the girl’s mistress slide in beside me on the sofa, and made no effort to resist her when her hand replaced mine and found not jut the outer lips, but penetrated deep into my cunt. I squirmed and moaned with delight as she worked first three, then four fingers, into the innermost recesses of my fuckhole, then she was fisting me fully, in a way I really hadn’t thought possible. My jealousy forgotten, I screamed with pleasure, matching Sarah’s scream of pain, as we were both overcome by mighty orgasms. Our respective mistresses were looking pleased with themselves as Li released the wounded Sarah, but what happened next was another surprise: Mila detailed Li and myself to tend Sarah’s welts and soreness, then took Elvira by the hand and said, ‘Come, darling, we’ll leave them to it for now.’ With that, they left, presumably bound for the bedroom.
Li soon left me alone with Sarah, and trotted off to attend to her chores.
‘That must have hurt terribly.’ I said.
She looked at me curiously, from under hooded eyelids. ‘Don’t you understand? I thought we were…..similar?’
‘All this is still a little strange to me,’ I said, ‘I’ve only been with Elvira for a few days.’
‘But your mistress is so lovely,’ said Sarah, ‘I think we are both very lucky, don’t you?’
I did, and nodded.
There was something I wanted to know. ‘When you were….whipped, did you..er, did you…?’
‘Did I cum? Yes, twice! I felt myself getting ready to climax as soon as I was tied up.’
So now I knew that I wasn’t necessarily a freak, having had a shattering orgasm when my mistress Elvira took the whip to my back – it made me feel somehow better.
We held each other, quietly comfortable in each others’company, until our mistresses reappeared, both looking remarkably serene – not a hair out of place.
We had a nice lunch, then Elvira summoned a cab to take us home. Home! I was already thinking of her mansion in those terms, I mused. Only a week ago, I had been married to an up-and-coming young businessman, living a normal life in suburbia. Now I was……..what? A lesbian sex-slave? Was that too dramatic a description? Perhaps it was more complicated than that. Or just possibly, I shouldn’t try to give myself a handle?
But Elvira was speaking quietly to me in the back seat of the taxi, first having made sure that the glass panel separating us from the driver was shut. And her gloved hand was on my knee, fondling gently. ‘Did you enjoy our visit?’
‘Yes, Mistress Elvira.’
‘You talked with Sarah?’
‘Yes, she is very nice.’
‘How did you feel when she was being whipped?’
‘Excited, but then…….’
‘Then, what?’ she demanded, a little more sharply.
‘Then, when you whipped her, I was jealous.’
‘Oh, my sweet Greta, I didn’t want to make you envious, my dear.’ She leant over and kissed me, and I yielded my lips to her instantly, letting her darting tongue probe my own, studded one.
When she parted from me, I looked into her lovely violet eyes. ‘I love you so, Mistress Elvira,’ I breathed, just as we pulled up outside the house. My legs felt strangely weak as we walked up to be greeted by the smiling Dita, holding the door open for us.
‘I could do with a rest now,’ said Elvira, ‘why don’t you have a nap too, and I’ll see you at six, say?’ That gave me a couple of hours, and I was grateful for the chance of a rest. I went to my bed, pulled my dress over my head, and lay down on the satin sheets. Now that I was alone, I had time to reflect on what had happened to me that day. I had been thrilled to the core watching Sarah’s whipping, then I had not only allowed her mistress to fist me – I had loved it! Then I had enjoyed the nearness of Sarah herself, so it wasn’t only Elvira. I was going to have to face up to it – I was well on the way to being a hundred percent lesbian! I tried to remember what it was like being with Mike, and images of his colleague Jake groping me at the firm’s party kept intruding, giving me feelings of revulsion. I switched it off, like changing the channels on the TV, and it was the image of Elvira’s lovely face that lulled me off to sleep.
I awoke to a quiet knock on my door, and a smiling Dita entered at my invitation.
‘What time is it?’ I enquired.
‘Ten to six,’ she replied, ‘the mistress wants us in her room.’
Us? I thought. Ah well, but Dita was busily getting things ready for me, and, as she went to the drawers, I was surprised to see that she was not in her maid’s uniform now, but wore a short white silk slip. As she leant over to take something out of the drawer, I saw that she was quite naked underneath, her neat, dark pussy-lips a pretty invitation. She looked back over her shoulder and smiled, her hair falling in a heavy cascade across the side of her face. I got off the bed, conscious of my own nakedness.
‘You are very pretty, Miss Greta,’ said Dita, lightly touching my left breast as I stood.
‘Thank you, Dita, you are very lovely, too,’ I said. She looked as if she was about to kiss me, then thought better of it, and returned to the drawer, pulling out a mid-length red silk slip with spaghetti straps. ‘You’ll be beautiful in this,’ she said. She stood back and admired me as the soft silk fell over my body. ‘You should put on some jewellery – the mistress likes that.’ I was about to remind her that I was wearing, as usual, my heavy chain around my waist, but she was already rummaging around and came up with several bracelets, some very long pendant ear-rings, an anklet and a variety of rings. To humour her, I put them all one, noticing that she, too wore a lot of gold jewellery.
I slipped on mules, and attended to my make-up, while Dita put finishing touches to my hair, then she pronounced me ready to go to my mistress’s room, and we walked there hand-in-hand. I had always thought that Dita must have fulfilled more than just household duties from time to time.
When we got there, Elvira was reclining on her huge circular bed, wearing a luxurious silk negligee, her long white-blond hair draped across the pillow. She was reading a book, which she set aside as we entered.
‘Please sit in that armchair, Greta, where you can watch,’ was her surprise greeting, ‘and come here Dita!’ She waved imperiously towards an armchair set close to the bed.
As Dita climbed onto the bed beside her, Elvira spoke quietly to me, ‘As you know by now, darling, I am intending to train you. I imagine you will not wish to return to your husband.’ It wasn’t a question. She went on, ‘As a small part of your training, I now require you to watch me with my lovely Dita. I expect you may wish to masturbate.’
So saying, she flipped open her negligee, exposing her slim body, as Dita slid beside her, the contrast between her dusky, black-haired, exotic beauty and the cool, pale magnificence of my mistress very exciting. Elvira took a grip on the long mane of Dita’s hair, and propelled her head between her mistress’s legs, which she opened wide, then she somehow contrived to compel the maid to turn turtle, so that she was straddling Elvira’s face – effectively a ’69’ position. From my vantage point I now saw that Dita’s prominent clitoris was pierced, and wore a heavy-looking silver ring, which Elvira took between her teeth, drawing a long, shuddering moan from the Asian girl. When I saw my mistress’s tongue dart in between Dita’s dark labia, into the startling pinkness of her pussy, thrusting deep into her glistening wet cunt, I was consumed by jealousy, but my hand, as if it had a life of its own, was massaging my own growing, hardening clit, and my juices were rising faster than I could believe. My mistress was panting now, as Dita was penetrating her arsehole with two long fingers, and flicking at her clitoris with her tongue, but then I suddenly realised that Dita was about to cum, and she emitted a sharp scream, then squirted her fluid copiously across the bed, some of it even reaching me in my chair. She knew her role, though, and continued until a long, deep moan that I now knew announced that Elvira had also climaxed, then they lay together, and I realised that I, too, had had an orgasm, just watching them.
When my mistress sat up, a little later, she looked at me, a strange smile playing on her lips. ‘She made a mess on the bed, didn’t she?’ she said, ‘I guess she’ll have to be punished for that.’
Later, over dinner, as I sat opposite Elvira, both of us wearing, for some unspoken reason, white gowns, she waited until Dita, now attired in her uniform, was serving our sweet.
‘When we’ve finished, Greta, you will go to your room – and you, Dita, will come to mine.’ My mouth must have fallen open. I was speechless at the cruel way in which my mistress was treating me – and after she had said that Dita would be punished!
‘Do you have a problem with that?’ she snapped, her eyes blazing at me.
‘Er…no, Mistress Elvira,’ I managed, and silence reigned until the meal was over, whereupon Elvira swept from the room in a rustle of silk, and I was left alone with my thoughts. I cried myself to sleep that night.
Next morning, I was awoken gently by a smiling Dita.
‘You may well look happy,’ I remarked cattily.
She chose to ignore my comment. ‘The mistress has sent me to fetch you,’ she said, ‘you can come as you are.’
I followed her down the corridor to Elvira’s vast bedchamber, clad in just my silk nightgown. Dita was also wearing what she had slept in, I noticed, a short, blue silk slip.
Elvira was waiting for us, clad in a luxurious frilled negligee, a delicate shade of powder blue.
‘I’d like you to cane Dita, my dear,’ she told me, as soon as I was in the room, ‘would you like that?’
‘I…I…er… not really!’ I blurted out, ‘I don’t want to hurt her.’
‘Come now, she’ll enjoy it, won’t you, Dita?’
The Asian girl looked close to tears as she nodded, but smiled wanly at me, and said ‘Yes,’ in a small voice.
‘Right then,’ said Elvira, briskly, ‘kneel up on the sofa, knees wide apart!’
Dita obeyed, and I couldn’t help thinking what a lovely picture she presented, the slip having ridden up to her waist, her long, brown, slender legs far enough apart to give an enticing view of her shaven pussy and what appeared to be a well-used anus, between neat, rounded buttocks.
I wasn’t at all sure if I could administer the cane to such a vision of beauty, however, but Elvira wouldn’t take no for an answer, I knew that, and she handed me a long, flexible, thin switch.
‘I’d like her to have twenty strokes, no more,’ she said, ‘I need her to work!’ She smiled as she said that, but then added, ‘I want to see the fruits of your labour, darling. I think she will mark prettily.’
I stood back, took aim, and brought the cane down across Dita’s brown behind. She didn’t even flinch.
‘Come now,’ said Elvira, ‘that one didn’t count. The idea is to hurt her!’
This time I let fly with more vigour, and the pretty Asian flinched, letting out a tiny gasp. ‘One!’ said Elvira, ‘but not hard enough.’
I drew my arm back and lashed her with more force, raising an instant deep red welt across both buttocks, and causing a moan to issue from Dita’s lips. ‘Two! That was more like it.’
I warmed to the task, almost revelling in the skill I needed to produce a pattern of red lines from her upper thighs to the very top of her buttocks. I noticed, too, when the maid squirmed, shuddered and groaned – I thought she may well have cum. So engrossed did I become, that my mistress had to come and relieve me of the cane when I had given my twenty strokes, and I fell upon the sofa, taking Dita in my arms, and begging forgiveness. We kissed for a long time, and when I looked up, my mistress was no longer in the room.
Dita held me more tightly, then we finger-fucked each other to slow, building, satisfying orgasms as I talked quietly to her about my sensations as I had caned her. I felt a kinship with the Indian girl I had never felt with anyone before, something which I knew would last.
When we were about to part – it was time for Dita to start preparing dinner – she said, ‘The Mistress told me she is going to whip you after dinner – did you know?’
‘No, Dita, but thank you for telling me.’ It gave me time to prepare myself – a process which involved a strange mixture of fear and excitement. I had an afterthought, ‘You can put my hair up for me if you would, darling.’
When I walked in to dinner, having taken more care than usual over my appearance, I was glad, because, sat at the table were Elvira’s olive-skinned friend Mila, and her girl – what was her name? – Sarah, that was it. The Korean maid Li was helping Dita serve the meal.
‘You look wonderful, darling,’ said Elvira, as I took enforced small steps in my long, tight, gold satin skirt, with which I wore a translucent black blouse, offering tantalising views of my uncovered breasts. Elvira was again clad in black – a tight knee-length dress laced up the back from hem to neckline, no underclothes evident in the gap closed by the lacing.
Mila was dressed in a silver lamé gown which must have cost the earth, and Sarah, beside her, wore a simple white cotton button-through dress – the contrast was perhaps deliberate, I thought.
Demurely, I took my place at the table.
‘I have invited Mila tonight, as she was eager to see you whipped,’ explained Elvira, ‘we’ll all have a nice dinner first, though, I think.’ I thought it sounded rather as if she’d suggested a game of charades. Apart from the fact that Sarah sought my hand under the table, the meal went off quite normally, the two prettily-dressed maids giggling as they served, making me think they were enjoying each others’ company in between times.
But as soon as the meal was over – I ate very little, in my nervousness – Elvira summoned Dita, and whispered a long instruction to her. After coffee, she again called the maid over, and this time said, ‘Take Greta and prepare her, please.’
Dita took my hand and led me to the dressing room beside the big bathroom.
‘You are to undress,’ she said, and helped me by unzipping my ultra-tight skirt. All I had to do was shrug off my blouse, step out of my heels, and I was naked, save for my waist-chain. Dita helped me remove the tiny growth of hairs that was starting to appear around my pussy, kissing my slit tenderly when the task was completed. ‘You are lovely, Dita,’ I told her.
Then she ‘prepared’ me, as Elvira had instructed. I had to have leather cuffs at my wrists and ankles, each with a dull metal ring set into it, and, to my surprise, Dita then shackled my ankles by means of clipping then to a foot and a half of heavy chain, and my wrists with a much shorter one. Another leather band went around my neck, and a silver lead was clipped to it. Then she slipped a long transparent white gown over my head, covering my body and arms completely and tied it by means of a couple of bows on my shoulders.
‘Now you are ready!’ she announced, and led me down, by my leash, to where I was awaited in the lounge. Immediately I noticed a heavy steel chain hanging from a ceiling beam, with a snap-link at its end. I knew then what fate was in store for me, and began to tremble, even though I longed for my mistress’s whip more than anything in the world.
‘You look magnificent, darling, doesn’t she, Mila?’ said Elvira, and stroked my breasts through the diaphanous gown, then gently raised my arms and clipped the chain between my wrists into the snap-link. I was only just able to stand, and when Dita unclipped the chain between my ankles I thought it would be more comfortable, but she was soon clipping my ankle-cuffs to rings I hadn’t spotted, set into the parquet floor. I was on tip-toe, when Elvira reached up and flipped open the bows on my gown, so that it whispered to the floor around my feet.
‘There,’ she said, ‘are you ready, my love?’
‘Yes, Mistress Elvira,’ I said.
She put an elegant long-fingered hand into my crack. ‘You’re really very wet, darling,’ she said, ‘you do so want to be whipped, don’t you?’
‘Yes, Mistress Elvira, I do.’
‘Hand me the flogger, I think, Dita, the long one, please.’
She showed me the many-stranded leather flogger, with its ornate handle. ‘This will hurt, darling, but not too much. It will do for a start.’
I glanced at Mila, who had her hand up Sarah’s dress, and wore an expectant smile on her face. But before I could take in any more of the scene, Elvira’s first vicious stroke landed with a loud ‘thwack’ on my upper back. It stung, and as more blows rained upon me, I went to that special place where pain and pleasure co-exist, and moaned and writhed in my bonds, especially when my mistress changed her tactics and stepped around in front of me, lashing my poor belly with the cruel flogger. I could see the damage now, and my belly was a livid red where she had concentrated her aim. When she switched to my tender breasts, though, I cried out, as an unbidden and unexpected orgasm rushed up on me – my legs felt so weak I would have fallen but for my chains.
Through mists, I hear Elvira offering her friend the chance to whip me as well, and I wasn’t surprised when she elected to take her turn – this time with a long, thin coach whip, which whistled through the air and stung most terribly. She stood behind me, but when the tip of the thong snaked around my waist or at the sides of my breasts, it left bright red marks, from which tiny droplets of blood fell. I moaned and squirmed as her repeated lashes scoured me, and was not displeased when Elvira took the whip from her and they asked Dita to unhook me. Mila was a crueller mistress than Elvira, but she came up and kissed me on the lips, feeling the marks she had left around my body as she did so. Then she said quietly, ‘You love pain, don’t you, my dear? I’m sure Elvira has ways of giving you more – much more.’
When our guests had gone, and I was sitting alone with Elvira, while Dita was clearing up, she suddenly said to me, ‘You’ve been with me almost a week, Greta. Would you like to stay with me?’
‘Would that it were possible, Mistress Elvira,’ I replied wistfully.
‘Oh, but it is, darling, it is!’ she said, smiling. I waited patiently for an explanation of this stunning revelation.
‘I have arranged for your husband to be offered a permanent position in the States – he has done rather well there. And I should like you to hand in your immediate resignation at the hotel tomorrow – I happen to know there will be no problem. Then perhaps you will accept the role of my personal assistant?’
I looked at her in mute astonishment.
‘Don’t gape, darling,’ she said, ‘it’s most unbecoming.’
‘Bu…but…what will I have to do? I’m just a hotel receptionist.’
‘Don’t worry, darling, your duties won’t be at all onerous. I’ll expect you to travel with me, come to receptions, run errands, perhaps type a few letters, that sort of thing.’
I couldn’t believe my luck. A week ago…..but I didn’t even want to think back to that time – it seemed like a lifetime ago.
It wasn’t until we were snuggling up in Elvira’s huge bed, under the satin sheets, that I tentatively asked, ‘Mila said that you…er… that you had more things….well, you know.’
She chuckled beside me. ‘Did she now?’ After a while she went on, ‘I can be quite inventive, yes, darling. I should like to put you in very tight corsets again, and have you wear one all day, for instance, and I have a few more ideas about whips and so forth, and some more piercing, but the main thing I have in mind, after a while, is to have you branded.’
‘Branded! Like a steer?’
‘Yes, darling, with a hot iron. It would look so much prettier than a tattoo, I think, and remind you always of me – I shall have you marked with my initials.’
Elvira was silent for a while, then said, ‘Of course, you will have to consent.’
‘Oh, Mistress Elvira, you can do anything you want with me. I love you more than life itself.’