Everyone in this story is over eighteen. It may seem a little slow to get going, as I’ve attempted to explore the girl’s feelings as she takes her first steps into Lesbian love, and is then taken into willing slavery.
‘Can I help you, Sonny?’ had said a gruff voice from behind the market stall. That did it. Just past my eighteenth birthday, and the combination of track-suit, short hair and no make-up had me marked as a boy.
I didn’t bother replying, and humiliating myself further – I just walked away.
‘Sonny!’ Jesus. I then looked at myself in the mirror and saw myself through the eyes of a casual observer. I saw what they must have seen – ‘they’ being not only market-traders, but just about anyone. An athlete on the verge of international honours, I had had my long blond hair cut short when I thought it had dislodged the high jump bar. I was tall and slim, with small breasts, and though I thought I had a nice, oval face, my looks could easily have been described as ‘boyish.’
All this hadn’t seemed to bother Tim, my boyfriend until a few weeks ago, when he had taken a job in the States, and with him I had enjoyed my first encounter with sex. After some mild groping, we had finally made love (at least, that’s what he called it) in the back of his old car, on the way back from an athletics meeting – and, despite my initial fear, I had found it OK. OK, but no big deal. We had repeated the deed twice more, before he dropped his bombshell about leaving for Ohio.
But that wasn’t my only disappointment during the last few weeks. A troublesome, recurrent knee injury had resulted, finally, in a visit to a specialist, who had told me blithely, ‘If you go on jumping, you’re going to end up a cripple.’
So I stopped competing, but spent a good deal of time helping at the track, coaching kids and so forth. But life was looking bleak, to say the least of it, and , at that point, my mother suggested that I go and spend some time with my divorced aunt Jenny, who lived in Chislehurst, a leafy suburb of London. As I was waiting to go to college – and I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go there – there was no reason not to go, and I readily agreed. I hardly knew my aunt, but remembered her as a willowy brunette, still in her early forties, who, despite a posh accent, had seemed friendly enough on my one previous visit to her lavish home.
So it was that I was knocking on her door, the taxi speeding away behind me, one breezy May Sunday, feeling just slightly nervous about how I would be received.
I needn’t have worried. ‘Petra, darling!’ said my aunt, as she flung the door open, and rushed to kiss me on both cheeks.
‘Hello, Aunt Jenny,’ I replied.
‘Oh please! No aunt stuff, eh. Just plain Jenny, right?’
I nodded gratefully and followed her into the sumptuous hallway. I wondered if she had company, because she was wearing a black cocktail dress which moulded her slender body to perfection, and, as she led me through to the lounge, I couldn’t help noticing that she wore seamed black stockings, and incredibly high stiletto-heeled sandals. Her long hair, now blond, was caught up in a flowing pony-tail, held in place by a black velvet bow. She turned to face me when we got into the modern, wood-floored room, decorated with two huge paintings that could only be described as erotic.
‘Welcome home,’ she said, ‘I’ve been so looking forward to your coming. I’m sure we shall have a lot of fun together.’
‘Were you about to go somewhere?’ I enquired, looking pointedly at her dress.
‘I thought I’d take you out to lunch. It’s Wendy’s day off.’
‘My maid – she’s awfully sweet, you’ll like her.’ Then she went on, ‘Why don’t you slip into a dress, and we’ll go for a drink before we eat?’
I was startled, and stammered, ‘B..but I don’t have a dress.’
‘OK, my dear, just put on whatever you’ve got,’ she said, looking, I thought, rather disparagingly at my jeans and tee-shirt.
She showed me to my room, a nice, cheerful first floor one with a big window looking out over lawns. A squirrel scampered across the grass as I glanced out, making for a huge cedar tree. When I was alone, I bounced onto the big double bed, then set about sorting through my meagre supply of clothes.
I stripped to my bra and cotton panties, and found at the bottom of my case the only skirt I had brought, a short, tight black one, which I stepped into, then found a summer top, with multicoloured stripes and spaghetti straps. I really had no suitable shoes to go with this outfit, but stepped into my best pair of black ones, with a low heel. I hoped it would do, and went nervously downstairs.
‘That’s better,’ said Jenny, ‘but you really should be using some make-up, you know.’
‘I’ve put on a bit of lipstick,’ I supplied lamely.
‘Oh dear, come on, let me have a go at you,’ she smiled, and I thought that, if my mum had ever said that, I should have flounced off in a huff.
If she saw me grinning at the thought, she made no comment, but led me to a kitchen chair, and threw a towel around my neck. Half an hour later, she had painted my lips, lined my eyes with mascara, shadowed my eyelids, done something to my lashes, and brushed my hair, all with infinite care. Wordlessly, she handed me a mirror, and I found myself peering at a stranger.
‘Shit!’ I couldn’t help exclaiming.
‘You don’t like what I’ve done?’ She sounded concerned.
‘It’s amazing,’ I conceded, ‘I..I’m totally different!’
‘You’re beautiful, Petra,’ said Jenny, as she took away the towel, ‘but we’re going to have to do something about this.’ She twanged my bra-strap, which showed alongside the straps of my top. ‘I doubt you really need a bra, do you?’
I told her I’d never considered going without one, and she laughed. ‘I’m the wrong side of the big four-oh, and I seldom wear one,’ she said, ‘and your tits are young and still firm. Let’s see what you look like without it.’ There was something about the way she looked at me, that I couldn’t put a description to – but, for some reason I didn’t want to think about, I found a distinct wetness creeping into my panties’ crotch. I tried to ignore it.
Slipping the straps of my top off my shoulders, I quickly reached behind me and unclasped the offending garment, then pulled it off, and slid the straps of my top back in place. It felt funny, and I knew I should feel terribly self-conscious, almost naked, going bra-less. The dampness in my panties was still there.
Jenny was chuckling. ‘There, you look much better – more…interesting, I think.’
I wondered at her choice of word, but she had gone to the phone to call a taxi. As we waited for it, she took stock of me and said, ‘You must make the most of your beauty, Petra. I’m going to see to it that you are transformed, if you’ll let me.’
I’d never thought of myself as beautiful, and said as much.
‘Oh, you are, though,’ she said, ‘you’ll find it’s amazing what some nice clothes, shoes, and accessories can do.’
‘But I can’t afford lots of new things,’ I protested.
‘We’ll see,’ she rejoined, and, at that moment, the cab rolled up, scrunching up the gravel driveway.
I kept my jacket held tightly around me as I got into the taxi, sure that anyone would notice my nipples – which were quite prominent – poking through the thin material of my top. Glancing at my aunt, sat beside me, she was looking amused. I just thought how gorgeous she looked, and was glad to be with her.
We arrived at what appeared to be a Country Club, somewhere near Sevenoaks, I thought, and Jenny ushered me in, across an entrance lobby, and into a spacious dining room, already well filled with elegant people, all well-dressed and looking prosperous. We were shown to a corner table, set for four. The waiter took my jacket, causing me to cross my arms over my all-too-obvious breasts. When I looked questioningly at Jenny, she told me that we were dining with a couple she had known for a long time. I whispered to her that I felt terribly under-dressed, as all the women around us were clad in expensive dresses, the men in suits. She patted my knee and said, ‘When you’re young and beautiful, you can get away with wearing a bin-liner. And anyway, you look perfectly charming in that top.’
‘But it’s so obvious I’m not wearing a bra!’
‘Yes, darling, that’s what’s so nice.’
Before I had time to comment further, the waiter threaded his way between the tables, leading two women through to ours.
‘But I thought……………’ I started
Jenny smiled. ‘Meet my great friends, Sarah and Velda,’ she said, introducing me to the two women, both, I thought, in their thirties. Velda was a brunette, with huge, dark – almost black – liquid eyes, under long, long lashes. She was quite short – petite, almost, and wore a grey silk jersey business suit with a short skirt, over patterned black stockings and black patent heels. Sarah was taller, quite as tall as I was, and had her platinum-blond hair caught up in an elaborate swirl, held in place with a silver decoration of some kind. She wore a full, knee-length black skirt of some shiny material, with a pink, flounced hem, and a pink blouse with a plunging neckline – I couldn’t remember ever being in the presence of such a beautiful woman, an impression heightened by the expensive perfume she carried with her like an aura.
When the two women sat down, opposite us, I looked from one to the other of them, and back at Jenny, who appeared not to notice when the two held hands ostentatiously above the table. Call me naïve if you will, but I hadn’t realised until that moment that they were more than just friends, nor had I suspected that my aunt had inclinations that were other than what I had always considered ‘normal.’
But their conversation soon became intimate, Jenny telling Sarah how gorgeous she looked, and saying she hoped Velda wouldn’t mind if they ‘had an hour or two together’ that afternoon. She then turned to me, and said, ‘You don’t mind, either, darling, do you? I know this must all be new to you, but I’ll explain later. I just wanted you to meet my two wonderful friends first.’
I was too shocked to speak just then, and just nodded, my eyes doubtless like saucers.
The meal was excellent, and the conversation became general, probably in deference to my presence. I relaxed a little, but when it was time to go, I wondered what was going to happen. In the event, we all got in a cab back to Jenny’s house, and she announced that she’d put some coffee on. ‘Just make yourselves comfortable!’ she told us, an I found myself sat next to Velda, who wanted to know all about my athletic career. I found that I could relax still more in the company of the couple, as Sarah was perched on the arm of the sofa, beside her friend, and I was enveloped in the heady mix of their perfumes. Sarah’s skirt had ridden up, and she didn’t seem self-conscious at displaying a shapely length of bare leg – I found my gaze fixed by her loveliness, but Velda, seemingly unconciously, rested her hand against my thigh as we talked, and I was acutely aware of her nearness.
Jenny came in with a tray bearing coffee, and she had changed out of her dress, was now wearing a blue silk kimono, her hair now loose, cascading down her back in a long blond mane, almost to her waist. I thought how young she looked, and something I didn’t yet understand stirred within me. She served us all coffee, then sat in the chair opposite with her cup.
‘You seem to be getting on well,’ she said.
‘Yes, Jenny,’ said Velda, then, to my intense embarrassment, ‘Your niece is delectable, darling – she’s telling me all about her jumping.’
I could have sworn she licked her lips suggestively as she said this, and I must have gone red, because Jenny said, ‘Don’t mind Velda, my dear – she always speaks her mind.’
It was her use of the word ‘delectable’ that had done it, I thought, but why had I started to tremble? Because trembling I was, as Velda’s hand moved imperceptibly against my thigh. She’s starting to stroke my leg, I thought. Bloody hell! Worse, I didn’t think I minded it!
But what passed that afternoon is a blurred memory. I remember that Jenny took Sarah by the hand and led her out of the room, and that Velda then suggested we watch television – I think she had been warned against trying to seduce me. We sat together, and I found myself relaxing happily in her presence, which may have had something to do with the bottle of Merlot that we drank as we watched a nice old film. I was asleep when Jenny and Sarah returned to the room, and awakened with a start when my aunt flopped down on the sofa beside me, Velda sat decorously at my other side.
Sarah and Velda called a taxi and left Jenny and I sat side-by-side. She sighed deeply, and patted my knee. I turned towards her, and saw that her eyes were closed.
‘Are you alright, Jenny?’ I enquired.
‘Mmmm,’ she replied, dreamily, ‘never been righter!’
I was in shock, really. I didn’t know what had affected me the most – Jenny sloping off with the lovely Sarah, and coming back like a cat that’s had the cream, or the sensation of Velda stroking my leg. No, it wasn’t her stroking my leg, it was how I felt when she did it!
‘Jenny,’ I began, ‘I didn’t…..’
‘Petra darling,’ she said, ‘When I asked your mother to let you come to my house, it wasn’t with any ulterior motive, you know, it’s just that – how shall I say this?’ I was acutely concious that her hand was on my knee – it seemed to be burning into my flesh like a red-hot iron. She went on, ‘I’ll not apologise to you. I’m a Lesbian, and have been since my marriage broke up about eight years ago. I’m comfortable with that, but if you’re not, and feel outraged, I’ll quite understand, and you are, of course, welcome to go back home right now. I’ll even pay your fare.’
I looked at her concerned face, framed by her long, soft, blond hair, and, as if it was being controlled by someone else, my hand strayed to my own knee, and covered her manicured hand.
‘I’m not outraged, Jenny,’ I muttered, ‘it was all so unexpected, that’s all.’
‘I’d just hate to think I was pushing you into anything, darling. And you can have all the time you like to think about things.’
With that, she moved gently away from me. ‘I’ll go and make some tea,’ she said, and I was suddenly alone on the sofa – with my thoughts.
And they were thoughts such as I’d never before had. I had hardly known that Lesbians existed, much less had doubts about my own heterosexuality. Until now. What had affected me the most? Sarah’s loveliness? Velda’s hand on my thigh? The place where it had rested seemed to be burning as I remembered the sensation. Or Jenny’s overt behaviour with Sarah? Then again, I couldn’t help being attracted to my unexpectedly beautiful aunt, when she had sat beside me, the silk kimono falling negligently open to reveal a long, smooth, slender leg, uncomfortably close to me.
But now she interrupted my jumbled thoughts, as she came in with a tray of sandwiches.
‘I hope this will do,’ she said, ‘I don’t generally eat a lot in the evenings, and I suppose you’ll be tired anyway – you’ve had a long day, haven’t you?’
‘It’ll be fine,’ I said. And it was. I went to sleep quickly in the strange bed, and awoke next morning to see sun streaming through the blinds – I sensed an interesting day.
Over a simple breakfast, Jenny said she had a proposition to put to me. I raised my eyebrows – what was she going to say?
I found out soon enough. ‘You know I am what you might desscribe as a businesswoman?’ she said, ‘I move money around, sit on a couple of boards, and have my fingers in a few pies.’
I nodded. My mother had told me that a distant aunt had left Jenny a fortune when she died.
Jenny went on, ‘As a little sideline, I have a boutique, not far from here, and the girl who ran it has left. I’d like you to try running it for me.’
It was a bombshell. ‘But…but..I don’t know anything. I mean, I’ve never worked in a shop, and, well, I just don’t think I could do it.’
‘I’m sure you can, darling,’ she smiled, ‘ and it won’t be too taxing. I only open mornings four days, and all day Saturday – and I’ll stay with you until you have learned the ropes.’
I must have looked shocked, because she patted my arm, and said, ‘Look, the shop’s closed today, so have a think about it, and, if you decide to have a go, I’ll take you in the morning.’
‘Why me?’ I wanted to know, ‘there must be lots of people looking for a job who have experience.’
‘You’re family, darling,’ she said, as if that explained everything.
I thought about it all morning. What else was I going to do? I had no burning ambition, or vocation, and wasn’t particularly interested in studying – my whole life had consisted of training and competing in athletics until then.
‘I’ll give it a try, if you’re sure I can learn,’ I told Jenny over lunch.
‘That’s wonderful, darling. I’ll take you to my beauty salon this afternoon.’
She saw the look on my face, and laughed lightly. ‘Not because you need to be made beautiful – it’s just that we can do few things to……what shall we say? Help nature along a little. And I was going anyway.’
That afternoon, wearing the same skirt and top I had worn the day before, I sat beside Jenny in her car, driving into Orpington.
‘I’m so glad you’ve decided to help me,’ she said, and actually looked pleased, her pretty eyes sparkling as she half-turned to me, tossing her long blond hair aside. I felt a sudden surge of…..what? I was still trying to put a name to it when we pulled up outside the salon.
Three hours later I emerged, my hair now long and honey-blonde, with extensions expertly applied, false nails very long and decorated, with a sparkling stone set into that on my right middle finger – I was going to have to get used to the awkwardness. My eyes and eyelashes had also been cunningly made up, and unaccustomed lip-gloss applied, so that when I had looked at myself in the mirror, a beautiful stranger had been looking back at me.
When we got home, I saw that the front door was open, and out of it skipped a vivacious little girl, a dark-skinned Eurasian with long, shining, jet-black hair. She wore a simple black minidress, a white apron and black hose. Jenny introduced her as her maid, Wendy, and she curtsied prettily when she was presented. There was something intensely suggestive about the atmosphere in that house, I thought, as Wendy served us with tea. But I couldn’t have put a name to it.
‘Now, let me have a look at you,’ said Jenny, pulling me gently to my feet, and twirling me about. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘You look much better, but I’ll try and find you something else to wear when for we go in to the shop in the morning. You’re taller than I am, but otherwise about the same size, I think.’
She bade me follow her to her room, off which she had a huge dressing-room, lined with mirrored wardrobes. She slid one open, stepped right inside, and rummaged through racks of clothes, then emerged with a hanger, from which hung a pale blue, silky garment.
‘Slip your clothes off,’ she told me, and watched me openly as I unclasped my skirt, stepped out of it, then wriggled out of the top. I was left in just my cotton panties, my arms crossed involuntarily across my breasts.
‘You don’t have to cover yourself up, darling,’ she told me, ‘I won’t bite, even if you are good enough to eat.’
I didn’t know how to take that, and must have laughed nervously, as she handed me the dress. I slid it over my head, and felt the sensual caress of the silky material against my skin as it fell over my body. It was a mid-thigh length dress, with a full, pleated skirt, the bodice with a plunging neckline, so that the swell of my breasts was displayed amply. I had never worn anything remotely like this, and said so.
‘What a shame, darling, you look ravishing, doesn’t she, Wendy?’ It was only then that I realised that the maid had been standing silently in the doorway.
‘Yes, ma’am, she does,’ she said.
So that’s settled, then,’ said Jenny, ‘then tomorrow we’ll find some more things for you at the boutique. But unless I’m mistaken, you haven’t brought anything much in the way of underwear, and things to wear around the house – Wendy, please sort out some things for Petra.’
She walked the maid down the corridor, her arm over the little girl’s shoulder, telling her something I couldn’t hear, as I followed on behind, once again dressed in my skirt and top. Wendy peeled off as we went down to the lounge, and Jenny switched on the television .
Half an hour later, Wendy came in, and said, ‘I’ve done as tou told me, ma’am.’
‘Thank you, my dear. I’m going to slip into my kimono. If you go to your room, Petra, you’ll find that Wendy has laid some things out for you – I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable if you change – we’re not going out.’
As I went upstairs, I reflected on her declaration that ‘we’ were not going out. My aunt had quickly taken on a dominant role – but, exploring my own reaction, I didn’t mind.
Back in my room, I found that Wendy had left a small pile at one side of the bed – a couple of silk slips, some stockings and two minimal garter-belts, two half-bras and two pairs of panties, one white and completely transparent, the other black lace. At the other side, lay a short white nightgown, as transparent as the panties, and a long white silk negligee, with wide sleeves, and fur trim at hem, cuffs and neckline.
I got out of my clothes, and enjoyed the feel of the flimsy nightdress falling over my body. When I had slipped into the luxurious negligee, I looked into the mirror. My hand strayed – somebody must have been directing it – to my pussy. I had found myself masturbating after Tim’s clumsy attempts at sex had left me high and dry, but this was different – narcissistic, yes, but my mind strayed to Jenny, and I knew then that I wanted her to do something to me. Just what, I still didn’t know – hadn’t the experience or teaching to understand. I diddled my clit for a while, bringing myself quickly to the verge of an orgasm. I loved that feeling – of being on the very brink, but would have plunged over the edge had not a knock sounded on my door. I must have looked flushed when I opened it to Wendy, who only wanted to know if I needed anything else. I spluttered out that I didn’t, thank you, but the spell was broken. I went downstairs, feeling self-conscious in the prettiest outfit I had ever worn – by a long way.
Jenny patted the sofa beside her, and we sat together watching the telly. I could feel the electricity emanating from her, her fragrant presence, the charged sexual atmosphere, as we sat so close together, and was ashamed to feel somehow vaguely disappointed when she remained decorously still and made no move to seduce me as the evening wore on.
When eventually I went up to bed, I completed what I had begun earlier, and brought myself alarmingly quickly to a raging orgasm, which left me exhausted. I slept soundly then.
Next morning, I knew I should try to look my best, and took unusual care with my make-up, awkward with my new long nails, then started to get dressed. I slid on a white satin garter-belt, then rolled on a pair of patterned white stockings and clipped them to the long straps. The diaphanous white panties were next. I had never worn stockings before, and the sexy girl I saw in the mirror was a stranger. I clipped on a white, lacy half bra, and slipped the blue dress over my head. It was immediately obvious that the bra would show, whatever adjustments I made, so I unclipped it and pulled it off. I felt sure my nipples would show, straining against the thin material, and, when I went down to present myself to Jenny, I was acutely self-conscious.
‘You look gorgeous, darling,’ she said, but then: ‘we’re going to have to do something about your shoes, though – you can’t wear those!’ She pointed disdainfully at my best shoes.
We made the short journey to the shop. It was no more than half a mile, but she had some packages to bring back, she said, so we used her car.
I looked around in wonder at the up-market boutique. Behind the stylish shop was a large fitting room, with racks of clothes, long mirrors and two armchairs. A door led to a small office. The range of clothes and accessories she stocked was very extensive – and expensive – and I wondered how on earth I should cope with the sort of women who would shop there.
‘Sit down,’ said Jenny, when we were in the fitting room, and, after asking my shoe-size, she fetched me four shoe-boxes. I gasped when I had opened them, because all the shoes she wanted me to wear had staggeringly high heels. When I tried the first pair on, and looked at my feet in a mirror, though, I had to admit that they transformed me – but walking; that was another matter. I had never worn a pair with heels more than an inch or so high, and to suddenly have to totter around in five inch needle-heels was going to be purgatory. Jenny saw my apprehension and said, ‘You have to suffer to be beautiful, my dear.’ That seemed to preclude any complaint, I thought. When Jenny had to go and greet the day’s first customer, I had a moment to look at myself again in the mirror – heels and all. I thought I looked amazingly sexy, and couldn’t resist sliding the hem of my silky dress up beyond the lacy stocking tops, until I could just see my white, transparent panties. I let my dress drop back into place hastily when I saw the door open.
‘Petra, come and meet Mrs Stock,’ said Jenny, and I was launched into the business of the boutique. I was impressed by Jenny’s professional manner – she actually sounded sincere when she told clients how wonderful they looked, even though most of them were well past their best. Later, she took a back seat and let me deal with two ladies, then told me I had done really well, even though I only managed to sell a skirt to one of them.
But just as we were about to close, and Jenny was back in the office a tall girl walked in, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt.
‘Petra, bloody hell!’ she exclaimed – it was Tammy, a girl I had competed against many times, and who I knew must live nearby, as she competed for a local club. ‘I rang your home, and your mum told me you were starting work here.’
I realised that Jenny must have phoned my mother the night before and told her.
‘But look at you!’ Tammy was saying, ‘you look like a high-class whore, dressed like that – and what have you done to your hair?’
I bridled at her attitude. ‘It’s better than looking like a street-cleaner,’ I said, pointedly looking at her sloppy outfit, ‘nice to see you, Tammy.’
After that exchange, our conversation was brief, and she left, saying, ‘See you then,’ over her shoulder.
‘Who was that?’ askled Jenny, coming out from the back.
‘Just someone I used to know,’ I replied, but I was still bristling, and went to look again at myself in the mirror. Tears came to my eyes, and I didn’t notice Jenny coming quietly in behind me.
She gently encircled my waist with her arms, and laid her head on my shoulder, then stroked my hair. It was the tenderest touch my body had ever known, and when I turned slowly to face her, she wiped away my tears with her beautifully manicured, long fingers, her other hand still stroking my hair.
‘I heard that, darling,’ she said, ‘and I think you look ravishing.’
So close to me, I could feel her breath against my cheek, and it was the most natural thing in the world when she kissed me, full on the lips, at first tentatively, as if unsure of my reaction, then more firmly, and when I didn’t resist, she ever so slowly pushed her tongue in between my lips. I felt any resistance crumble as her questing tongue insinuated itself into my mouth, and found myself kissing her enthusiastically, my own tongue starting to compete with hers, her slim body pushing against mine, the heady perfume she wore assailing my senses. With an effort, I eased her away.
‘What if someone comes in?’ I breathed.
‘I’ve locked up,’ she said, her eyes sparkling as she looked into mine, ‘but come on, let’s sort you out some clothes, then go home. We’ve got all the time in the world, haven’t we?’
I nodded, not at all sure what that was supposed to mean.
Jenny chose a variety of clothes for me, without consulting me, and we carried them out to the car, then we went home for lunch.
As Wendy served us with a light lunch, Jenny said, ‘We’ll have a little trying-on session afterwards. I can’t wait to see you in some of the things I’ve brought.’
After coffee, she took me by the hand and led me up the broad staircase to her bedroom, where Wendy had lain the clothes I was to try on the bed. Jenny sat on a low chaisse-longue and watched me as I picked up each garment in turn, my eyes wide in wonderment.
‘Why don’t you get undressed, darling?’ she suggested.
Reaching behind me, I unzipped my dress and stepped out of it, so that I wore only suspender-belt, stockings and panties.
‘Try the dresses first,’ she told me, and I picked up a long grey, silk evening gown, which I hoisted over my head, then let it whisper down over my body like gossamer. It was quite backless, and so low-cut that my garter-belt showed above its line.
‘You’ll not be able to wear anything under that, darling,’ said Jenny, and laughed gently when I looked at her doubtfully.
‘I shall enjoy knowing that you’re naked underneath,’ she said, then, ‘Don’t be bashful, darling, really.’
My mind, by now, was in a whirl. So much had happened to me since I had arrived in my aunt’s house, that I couldn’t collect my thoughts. Nothing in my prior experience had prepared me for all this. I tried four other dresses, another evening gown in translucent black organdie, an alarmingly short black velvet cocktail dress, and two day-dresses, one a pleated, beltless number in green silk, which fell straight from a gathered neck to hem at mid-thigh, the other a light, airy, cotton print button-through.
‘Now you can try on the other things,’ said Jenny, indicating first a pile of black lace. When I held it up and shook it loose, I saw it was a sort of flimsy cat-suit, all black lace, which would leave nothing to the imagination.
‘It’s just a play-suit,’ explained Jenny, ‘go on, try it!’
I started to unzip it, but heard Jenny’s little, almost nervous, laugh. ‘You’ll need to undress first,’ she said, and I saw she was looking at me oddly. Hesitantly, I unclipped my stockings, stepped out of the excruciatingly high shoes, and rolled down the stockings, then pulled off the garter-belt, reluctant to divest myself of the admittedly skimpy protection my panties afforded. I heard Jenny cough, and saw that she was looking pointedly at the offending garment. I hooked my thumbs under the waistband and wriggled them down over my hips and let them drop to the floor. I stepped out of them – naked, an arm across my breasts, a hand uselessly covering my pussy.
Jenny was smiling. ‘Don’t cover yourself, my dear, just put the suit on.’
I struggled into it, but when I had difficulty reaching around to zip myself into it, Jenny got lightly to her feet and zipped it up for me, her hand lingering on my back after she had finished.
‘Let’s have a look at you,’ she said then, stepping away while I twirled around.
‘God, you look fantastic,’ she breathed, ‘Take a look at yourself!’ She took my hand and led me to a full-length mirror. I saw what she meant. My prominent nipples poked out through the patterned black lace, and the pale shadow of my pubic hair was also visible. A veritable sex-bomb stood looking at me in the mirror.
‘But when on earth will I wear something like this?’ I wanted to know.
‘Oh, we’ll find the opportunity,’ laughed Jenny, ‘my friends and I have lots of parties.’
I couldn’t see myself going to a party in something like that, though I did wonder just what kind of parties they were.
The rest of the stuff laid out for me on Jenny’s huge bed was lingerie, two simple silk slips, a glamorous long nightgown and a transparent white, fur-trimmed baby-doll set.
I went over and kissed Jenny on the cheek.
‘I really don’t know how to thank you for all this,’ I said.
‘Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way,’ she replied, to my rhetorical comment, and held onto my hand, as I realised I was still wearing nothing more than the lace play-suit, and made to pull away. But she kept a grip on my hand and her other hand moved up to cup my left breast, through the revealing lace.
I gasped, and looked at my aunt. She was smiling, and I felt an inexplicable urge to kiss her. Something told me I should fight the impulse, but it proved too strong, and, in a moment, I was kissing her luscious mouth, our tongues seeking, probing. It was the second time it had happened, and, this time, I abandoned myself to Jenny’s lips. I felt my nipple growing hard as her fingers sought it, and slowly sank down beside her on the chaisse-longue. Before I knew it, a questing hand was feeling the wetness between my legs, and it was only then that I realised that the play-suit had an opening there, with a concealed velcro fastening. But Jenny obviously knew this, and the sound of tearing velcro preceded the delicious touch of her long fingers on my pussy-lips. I couldn’t believe the excitement I felt as she ran her delicate finger-tips the length of my slit, then, parting my lips gently, she found the soaking depths of my cunt. Two fingers drove deep within, then her other hand went to my burgeoning clit – and I came, a gushing, spurting orgasm that blotted out the whole world for me, as I groaned loudly into Jenny’s ear.
‘Oh Jenny, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me,’ I said, ‘It’s just………..’
‘Shush, darling. I’m going to help you find your true nature,’ she said, ‘now get dressed, and we’ll go out for a while.’
My legs were weak as a kittens’ when I stood up. ‘What shall I wear?’ I asked, reflecting that I was allowing Jenny to rule my life – even dictate what I wore – but that I didn’t mind at all.
‘Just slip into that cotton print, for now,’ said Jenny, and I did as I was told, wearing only the skimpy pair of panties underneath – I was getting used to going without a bra, and rather liked the sensation of freedom it gave me.
We took the car and drove a short way, pulling up in a little carpark behind a rather upmarket coffee shop. I thought how lovely Jenny looked as we entered the shop – she was wearing a very short white minidress, like a tennis outfit, the skirt slightly flared, her lack of a bra obvious without being too in-your-face, her sandals’ heels high without being tarty, a little gold anklet a nice touch. She would have passed, I thought, for thirty.
She seemed to know where she was headed, and we threaded our way through to a table near the back, already occupied by an Indian-looking woman with shiny black hair and a ready smile, accompanied by a younger girl, a demure-looking white girl, who seemed reluctant to look at us when they were introduced to me. The ‘Indian woman,’ I learned, was from Sri Lanka, and was called Rina, and her young companion was presented to me as Louise.
‘How lovely you look, Jenny,’ said Rina, ‘and this will be your niece I have heard so much about?’
‘Yes, and you look gorgeous, too,’ said Jenny, and I now saw that Rina was wearing a nearly completely transparent black blouse, with a lacy black bra underneath, revealing neat breasts with her nipples tantalisingly just hidden. Louise was more modestly attired, a peasant blouse showing the smooth young flesh of her slim shoulders.
‘But I have to wear a bra with this,’ Rina said, ‘when I prefer to go without one, as you know.’
‘I know, darling,’ said Jenny, ‘I’ve given up underwear, as you know.’
I looked at her in surprise. Underwear? All of it?
She saw my look and smiled at me. Then, glancing around her, to see that she wasn’t being observed – at least by anyone else – she shuffled around on her chair until the table asn’t in my line of sight, and drew up the hem of her dress, instantly revealing a completely clean-shaven mound, quite devoid of any covering. She had meant what she said. I saw no surprise on the faces of our two companions.
After Jenny and Rina talked generalities for a while – and I couldn’t help noticing that Louise remained totally silent, as did I – we ordered coffees, then Jenny suddenly asked, ‘How is Louise’s training going?’
‘She is learning, but slowly.’
I was about to ask what sort of training she was undergoing, but Rina was enquiring: ‘And Petra, are you going to train her too?’
‘I certainly hope to,’ replied Jenny, ‘I think she is highly promising.’
‘Yes, I can see what you mean. She is very pretty.’
I hadn’t a clue what they were talking about, and saw Louise looking at me with green eyes, then, as she took a bite from a biscuit, I realised that she had a silver stud in her tongue, something which seemed somehow incongruous in such a shy young girl.
In the car on the way home, I asked Jenny, ‘Training? What was that all about?’
‘It’s too early to say, darling,’ she said, ‘we’ll talk presently.’
But all that I’d seen that afternoon had me in a state of wonderment.
‘And you always go out like that? Without…..you know?’
‘Without panties, you mean? Yes, darling, the feel of fresh air around my pussy keeps me…..er, on the edge, if you know what I mean.’
‘Yes, I think so, but I don’t think I’d dare.’
‘I’m sure you will, my dear,’ she said, and at that moment, we pulled into her driveway.
Whilst Wendy was serving us with dinner, Jenny brought up the subject again. As the maid stood beside her, placing a bottle of wine on the table, Jenny slid her hand up the girl’s leg, lifting the hem of her tiny skirt.
‘Look,’ she said, ‘Wendy likes to go without underwear, too, don’t you my dear?’
The half-Indian beauty turned to face me, a sparkling smile on her lips, as if she didn’t mind at all being displayed, her shaven mound adorned with a tiny floral tattoo.
‘Yes, mistress,’ she said, and curtsied prettily as Jenny’s hand left her, before turning to go off to the kitchen.
‘She’s pretty, isn’t she?’ said Jenny, and I nodded agreement, my mind still a turmoil.
I felt the need to say something about what had happened earlier. ‘This afternoon, when I tried clothes on…..,’ I started.
‘Shush, darling, no need to explain,’ smiled Jenny, taking my hand across the table, ‘but I think we left things…..unfinished, don’t you?’
Wendy was tidying dishes away, and there was something about her presence, and the knowledge of her unashamed nakedness, that gave the room a sexually-charged atmosphere, even without Jenny’s suggestive conversation.
She leaned over and kissed me then, and I couldn’t help resonding, opening my mouth to her, and loving the feel of her probing tongue. No man, I thought, had ever kissed me like this. Now Jenny stood and extended a hand to me, then led me upstairs, to her room, kicking the door shut with one stiletto-heeled foot behind her. Slowly, she unbuttoned my dress, from neck to hem, one button at a time, then slipped it from my shoulders. I stood in just my panties, and when I saw that Jenny was unfastening her own buttons, I wanted to help. She was quite naked when she let her white dress slide to the floor, apart from her shoes, gold anklet, and a thin gold chain which encircled her slender waist.
‘You’re so beautiful, Jenny,’ I breathed, and sought to kiss her again, but she pushed me away, so that I wondered briefly if I’d done something wrong, but then she slid onto the bed, opening her legs, knees slightly raised, and beckoned to me to come to her. I needed no second invitation, and joined her on the bed, but when I made to kiss her lips, she pushed my head down almost brusquely, thrusting her round breasts at me, so that my mouth found first one nipple then the other, teasing them to instant hardness. She forced my head down, down to her flat, smooth belly, where I soon found my tongue had a life of its own, licking the sweet flesh, down further, to the start of her crack, then, then, then, to the secret places, under the protecting hood, her little clit, nestling there, waiting like a snake in a hole, waiting to be kissed, bitten, into growing life. Jenny groaned as I bit the newly-engorged flesh, and I couldn’t resist copying what she had earlier done to me, and, parting her swollen lips, thrust first one, then two, then three fingers, into the hot, wet, pink depths of her cunt.
At that, she bucked and writhed, and shouted out, ‘Oh Christ! I’m cumming, Petraaaaa!’
Seminal fluids gushed from her to confirm her shout, and she pulled me up to kiss and hold her, our two bodies remaining entwined.
As I drifted off to sleep, I was pondering with bewilderment just what was happening to me. A couple of days – or was it a century? – ago, I was living at home with my mother, wondering where I as going to find my next boyfriend, and just really waiting to go to college, without any real idea of what I wanted to do with my life. And now….now here I was, a newly-confirmed Lesbian! As if reading my thoughts, Jenny cradled my head in her arm, and my last waking thought was that I was beginning to love….no, it went beyond that….to worship her.
When I awoke, I was alone, and could hear movements downstairs. I threw on a negligee that was hanging behind the door and did what I could with a hairbrush I found on Jenny’s dressing table, then went downstairs.
‘Good morning darling,’ said Jenny, ‘I trust you slept well?’
‘Yes thank you, I did,’ I said, unable to resist blushing when I remembered the events that had preceded my night’s rest.
Jenny was still wearing her favourite kimono as I joined her at the kitchen table.
‘Would you like coffee, Miss Petra?’ asked Wendy, smart and petite in her uniform. I couldn’t look at her without thinking about her nakedness under the black minidress, and realised with a shock that the knowledge excited me.
But Jenny was talking to me. ‘I think you heard Rina and I speaking of training yesterday?’
‘Yes – I wondered what it was all about.’
‘Rina is training Louise to be her sub. Do you know what that is?’
I didn’t, and must have looked puzzled.
‘It may be difficult for you to understand, my dear, but I’ll try to explain. Rina is a dominant, and needs someone to dominate, someone who will not mind being humiliated, and punished by her. In fact someone who will enjoy that role.’
‘A…a masochist – Louise?’
‘Yes, darling, though that’s an over-simplification.’
I now remembered reading a dog-eared copy of ‘The Story of O’ which had done the rounds of the lower sixth form at school. And how I had been both shocked and stimulated by it, then ashamed of the latter reaction. I didn’t tell Jenny about that, but looked at her lovely face, trying to read what was behind her expression, which seemed to be questioning me, as if she wondered just what she could say to me.
‘And…..and you’re thinking I might be the same for you?’ My voice came out as a hoarse whisper.
She reached across the table and took my hand in hers. ‘I wanted to wait a while longer before bringing up the subject, but….well, it’s what I should like, more than anything in the world.’ Her huge eyes were moist, as she went on, ‘I just didn’t want to rush you, my love – I know this is all a little sudden.’
I looked at her, and my heart melted. She was more beautiful than ever, as a tear rolled down the smoothness of her cheek.
‘Oh Jenny,’ I said, and without knowing, or caring, of the consequences, ‘I’ll do anything you want me to.’
She came around the table and kissed me, long and searchingly, her tongue questing into my mouth, her silky hair falling over my shoulder.
When she broke away, she said, ‘We’ll see about starting to train you, then, darling, but I’m in no hurry, and I want you to be absolutely sure.’
‘I’m sure; sure as I’ll ever be,’ I replied. She nodded, and went, presumably to get dressed.
I thought for a long time about what I had said, as my reaction at the time had been completely impulsive. But when I pictured myself being humiliated – punished even – by Jenny, I found wetness creeping into my groin, and had to go to my room to masturbate. I was shocked when I envisaged a scene where I was ‘O,’ chained up and whipped. I came convulsively then.
The day passed quickly as I learned about the shop, and the accounts, that I was going to have to keep. I was anticipating eagerly going to bed with Jenny, but after dinner, she simply stood, without a word to me, and called, ‘Wendy!’
When the maid skipped lightly in, Jenny took her by the hand and led her upstairs. As they went out of the door, she looked over her shoulder at me, and said, ‘Put the lights out when you go to bed, won’t you?’ I felt desolate, hurt, and cried myself to sleep. Had the previous night been a one-off thing?
I awoke next morning determined to put a brave face on it. At the boutique, I tried to be dignified and distant with Jenny, who was only there for about half an hour, anyway – she said nothing about the night before.
But at lunch, she chatted normally with me, and chided Wendy when the girl spilt a drop of wine on the tablecloth. I decided that relationships here were more complex than I had realised.
We both dozed in front of the telly for a while, then Jenny suddenly said to me, ‘Come up to my bathroom, darling, will you. There’s something I’d like to do.’ She went upstairs immediately, leaving me to follow in her wake.
She had left her bedroom door open, and I stepped through and into her en-suite bathroom, where Jenny was rummaging in a white cabinet over the washbasin.
‘Sit on the stool, darling,’ she said, and filled the washbasin with warm water. Then she produced a can of foam, and knelt down beside me.
‘Take your panties off now,’ she told me, and I realised what she was going to do. I did as I was told, and reached under my pleated skirt, slid down the white nylon garment, feeling very vulnerable.
Jenny lathered my whole pubic mound, and, getting me to open my legs wide, smoothed the foam all around my labia, then, making me slide forward, right up around my anus. I felt a sudden, involuntary, unexpected thrill as her finger traced my crack and touched the very entrance to my rectum. Then, dipping a little pink and white razor repeatedly into the washbowl, she started to shave me, slowly and thoroughly, until she had removed every last vestige of hair from my whole private area. She dried me off, powdered my crack, and oiled my mound, gently working sweet-smelling essence around my lips, along the whole of my crack and again lightly fingering my arsehole, so that a little ‘oh’ escaped me. At that she smiled and strained up to kiss my lips.
‘There. Now you must attend to that every two or three days – we don’t want any stubble growing, do we?’
Meekly, I nodded. Although I had shaved around the edges of my triangle before, so that no hair escaped my athletic shorts or swimming costume, I had even thought of going clean-shaven, and it felt very strange to be hairless.
But there was more. Jenny had retrieved my panties from the floor, and threw them into the waste-bin. ‘You won’t be needing those any more,’ she said, ‘from now on, you are to be naked under your skirts.’
‘Is this part of my training?’ I asked, innocently.
Jenny laughed softly. ‘The very start,’ she said, ‘the start of an adventure.’ She walked out and left me to stand, smooth down my skirt and follow her. The sensation was a strange one – I felt totally naked as I walked, even though I was decently covered by the mid-thigh-length skirt. When I got downstairs, she was waiting for me.
‘From now, you will not wear trousers, only skirts. In fact I shall choose all your clothing. You have consented to be trained. I will, however, ask you again: do you accept whatever conditions I wish to impose on you?’
‘Not good enough. You will reply!’ Her voice had a new harshness.
‘Yes, mistress, from now on, when we are here in the house.’
I looked at her in astonishment. What had happened to my friendly aunt?
‘Yes, m..mistress,’ I stuttered.
Her face softened, and she pushed a stray strand of hair from my eyes, and kissed them lightly, one after the other, in a gesture so tender I could hardly believe the same woman had rapped orders at me just a minute ago.
Quietly, she started to outline the direction my life was to take, as she walked around in front of me. I sat demurely on the couch.
‘In the next two days, I will pick out the clothes you are to wear, and I shall take you to be pierced.’
‘Pierced – how?’
‘As I wish – and I don’t expect you to question me. Is that clear?’
‘Yes….er, yes, mistress.’
She went on: ‘You will always wear the clothes given to you – your old things will be destroyed, apart of course, from the things I have already provided you with. I will also give you a collar and a waist-chain, which you will wear at all times.’
I must have looked a little shocked, because she said, ‘I realise my dress-code is strict, but it is only part of the discipline I wish to impose. You will come to regard your clothes with pride, as they will denote your status. You will have few duties at home, as the maid keeps house for us, but your life will be dedicated to giving pleasure, to me, and to anyone else I may loan you to.’
I must have looked shocked by this latest remark, as she laughed harshly, and said, ‘Yes, I can see that may be a surprise to you, but it may well please me to lend you to Rina, or Sarah, for instance, or whoever would like to use you.’
An image of Rina’s Asiatic beauty came into my mind, and I knew I should relish being ‘used’ by her. But what did she mean by ‘used?’ It was to become quickly clear.
‘Has your anus ever been penetrated?’ Jenny asked me, without a trace of embarrassment.
‘N…no!’ I managed to say, and added, ‘Mistress.’
‘I thought not, so I shall see to it that you are nicely enlarged,’ she smiled, ‘because much pleasure has so far been denied to you and your partners. Now kneel in front of the sofa, darling.’
I did as she told me.
‘Knees apart!’ she ordered, and I heard her opening and closing a cupboard. Then she was behind me, flipping my skirt up to my waist. I felt her fingers running up my crack, from my pussy to the tight little hole in my bottom.
‘Mmm,’ she murmured, then I felt a lubricated, slippery finger ease its way slowly into my anus, just a short way at first, then it was wiggled around, and ever so slowly penetrated further, deeper into my most private orifice. More rapidly now, I knew she had inserted a second finger, and felt a sharp pain as the two digits reached my unwilling sphincter, pushing now, forcing me open, until Jenny’s knowing hand was opening me up in a way I couldn’t believe. At first my only sensation was one of agony, then I abandoned myself to her thrusting fingers, and in so doing, started to feel the most intense pleasure.
‘Yes, darling,’ she said, after a while, ‘I can tell from your movement that you are on the verge of cumming. You will not allow that to happen, do you hear?’
She withdrew her hand completely and gave my buttocks two resounding slaps, then I felt a new sensation, as something smooth and cold, cold was being pushed into my newly-invaded arsehole. The agony now was intense, even replacing the intensity of the pleasure I had just been experiencing. But the forcing went on and on, then I felt something give, and there was an audible plop. Jenny told me to sit on the sofa, and raise my legs, holding my thighs up above my head. Then she produced a mirror, and I saw that the shiny black flange of an instrument of some kind was flush with my crack. The feeling was as if I was filled to bursting with some alien object – I didn’t know how I could bear the awful pain.
‘You’re the proud possessor of a butt-plug, my dear, and I want you to keep it in place for at least three days. You may, of course, remove it when you defecate, but then you must reinsert it. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, mistress,’ I muttered, tears clouding my eyes.
‘What you felt when I fingered your anus should give you an inkling of the ecstasy that is to be felt in that area. I shall expect you to render services to me in that respect – and probably to others. Your arsehole will grow as accustomed to being penetrated as your cunt.’
Somehow, I was more surprised at her use of such vulgar language that by what she was proposing, but she was deliberately trying to shock me, that was clear. But she continued: ‘And the pain you felt is your first taste of that essential ingredient of true sensual pleasure. You will, I know, grow used to pain, and will derive as much pleasure from receiving it as I shall from giving it.’
I looked at her doubtfully. ‘Pain?’
‘Yes, my dear, pain, sometimes extreme pain – it is a sensation you will come to crave, to need as you need food and drink.’
‘But…but….’ I began.
‘Enough for now,’ she said, with an air of finality, ‘It’s time for you to be introduced to your new wardrobe.’ She raised her voice, ‘Wendy!’ Then to me: ‘Go up to your room – I’ll join you shortly.’ I walked out as normally as I could, though the intrusive plug was still giving me agony when I moved.
In my room, Wendy was busy arranging clothes on my bed, having unpacked them from a large trunk. More things hung on a wheel-in rack. She curtsied briefly when I entered.
‘Almost done, Miss Petra,’ she said, and my eyes widened when I saw the extent of my new wardrobe.
I was still just walking around my bed in wonderment when Jenny came in, carrying a small bag.
‘Slip out of your dress, darling,’ she told me, and I quickly unfastened the cotton button-through which was all that hid my nakedness, and pushed it off my shoulders, so that I was stood there in just my patent heels. Jenny looked me up and down, and clicked her tongue – I wasn’t sure what that meant. Then she set the bag down on my dressing table, and took out a metal band which sparkled in the low sunlight which streamed through my window. Fitting it around my neck, she pulled me towards the mirror. I saw that I now wore a broad silver band, set almost continuously with sparkling jewels – they looked like diamonds, though I doubted they could be – with a silver ring set into it beneath my chin.
‘You are to wear this at all times,’ she said, and, judging by the trouble she seemed to be taking with the clasp at the back of my neck, removing my collar was not going to be easy. ‘The collar is a symbol of your status,’ said Jenny, without further explanation.
Next she clipped a fairly heavy silver chain loosely around my waist, spare chain, with a small silver ball at its extremity, from one end dangling down over my stomach.
‘I expect you to wear this too, except when you are required to wear a corset,’ she said.
‘Corset?’ I protested, ‘but…..’
‘But nothing. If I wish you to wear a corset, then you will. See here!’ She held up a whaleboned, Victorian-looking black satin garment for me to look at. I turned away, wondering what further surprises may be in store. A corset! It was the sort of thing one saw in old films, I thought.
But Jenny was drawing my attention to the clothes I was to wear. ‘First of all, the dresses for you to wear to work are on the rack there.’ She waved for me to inspect them. I saw that there were three more like the one I had already tried, beltless, narrowly-pleated dresses, light and airy, which fell straight from my breasts, which they concealed only teasingly, to mid-thigh level. I dreaded to think what they would be like to wear on a windy day. When I tried on a mid-blue one, I felt more naked than ever, the soft silk fluttering around my body in a feather-light caress.
‘Those will be your normal “uniform” in the boutique,’ smiled Jenny, amused at my discomfort. There were two short, tight, dark-coloured cocktail dresses also.
My attention turned to the bed. I picked up two evening gowns in turn. One was a white silk sheath, which looked as if it would fit me like a second skin, and the other was black velvet, open at both sides, where its back and front were only connected by three silver clasps, one at knee level, one at the hip, and another just below armpit height. That the wearer was naked underneath was going to be obvious. They were the only dresses on the bed, but there were two transparent negligees, one black and one white, both fur-trimmed at hem and neck, with wide sleeves. There were also several nightdresses, two beautiful long silk ones, and two white baby-doll type ones. There were two very short miniskirts, and organdie blouses to go with them. The evil-looking corset was there too, and there was a very narrow long black satin skirt which laced up the back. The only underwear were two garter belts, together with a few packets of stockings, and two black half-bras. Lined up beside the bed were three pairs of shoes or sandals, all with tremendously high heels. I was becoming used to wearing the five inch heels Jenny had given me, so they now held no terrors for me.
‘Well?’ said Jenny, when I’d had chance to take it all in, ‘what do you think to your new wardrobe?’
‘It’s….exciting!’ was all I could splutter out.
‘You will change when you get home from the boutique, darling. Around the house, I shall expect to find you in the play-suit I gave you, or in a nightdress – or just a negligee.’
‘Yes, mistress,’ I responded.
‘Right,’ she said, ‘slip into something for now. We’ll have some dinner, if you’d be so good, Wendy, then I should think you’ll be tired, Petra.’
‘Yes mistress,’ I said with feeling, as I slid into the luxurious fur-trimmed white negligee.
‘You look quite lovely, my dear,’ said Jenny as she went out, looking at me over her shoulder, ‘I may invite you into my bed tonight.’
‘Thank you, mistress.’
The following day, I awoke in Jenny’s huge bed to find myself alone in it. I hurriedly showered and went downstairs, where Wendy had coffee brewing. There was no sign of Jenny.
‘The mistress has gone into London for the day,’ said Wendy, when I asked. I had to get a move on to get to the boutique on time, and my plug was giving me a lot of discomfort. As I didn’t expect Jenny back any time soon, I eased the offending intruder out of my anus, and left it on my dressing table, then slipped on one of my ‘uniform’ dresses, stepped into stiletto-heeled sandals, and set off to walk quickly to the shop. I felt very good as I tripped along, the light breeze around my naked pussy under the flimsy dress.
During the morning, I started to feel even better, as I sold a five hundred pound cocktail dress to an elderly lady, then took almost as much from a beautiful blonde for two skirts and a pair of ruinously expensive shoes. But I had done a lot of legwork in the process, and got home quite tired at lunchtime. After enjoying Wendy’s salad, I simply crashed out on the sofa.
I was rudely awakened what seemed like ten minutes later.
‘What’s all this?’ Jenny’s voice was harsh, ‘As soon as I turn my back, I come back to find you, like the slut you are, still in your work-clothes, slumped on the sofa!’
I wasn’t only hurt at being called a ‘slut’ – I had so wanted to tell her about my morning, but I also knew I should have changed before taking a siesta. But what was this? She was holding in her hand an object that I suddenly realised to my horror was my butt-plug, that I had forgotten to reinsert. She must have been in my room – or Wendy had picked it up and given it to her.
‘I am disappointed in you, Petra,’ she snapped, ‘and you realise that I shall have to punish you?’
‘Y..yes, mistress.’ It was the first thing I had said.
‘Undress, you disgusting slut,’ she said, quietly, and, standing up, I flipped the light dress over my head, and was quickly naked, stood there in my sandals, an arm reflexively across my breasts, the other hand, equally uselessly, covering my pussy. I noticed Wendy, hovering in the background, and wondered briefly if it was she who had stitched me up over the plug.
‘Kneel on the sofa, arms on the back,’ instructed Jenny, and when I did so, she told me to part my knees as wide as I could.
‘I’m going to give you ten cane strokes,’ she then said, ‘Wendy, pass me the thin cane, will you, my dear. Yes, that one will do fine.’ I didn’t dare look around, and couldn’t believe I was actually about to be caned.
Jenny came and bent very close, and whispered, ‘I’m going to hurt you. As it’s your first time, you’ll only get the ten strokes. You will, I know, learn to take pleasure from receiving my punishment, as I take pleasure in giving it.’
She stood back, and I felt her measuring her stroke, as the cane caressed my buttocks, then there was an awful, loud swish, and I felt a terrible, searing pain as the thin switch bit into my tender flesh. I gasped and squirmed. I couldn’t believe the force Jenny was applying as the second vicious stroke fell just below the first, and out of my eye-corner, I saw her drawing her arm way back for another one. My arse was on fire, and I also saw that Wendy was looking on, her eyes wide with excitement – and… and – something else – envy? Could she really be envious? I had developed the ability to read facial expressions when watching my high-jumping opponents, and now I thought I could read the maid’s face.
But the next cruel blow, higher this time, near the bottom of my back, demanded all my attention, and I found I could concentrate on the pain, and know the sadistic pleasure my punishment was giving Jenny. Jenny – my mistress! It still felt unreal to have a mistress, and to have her caning me – well, I couldn’t understand how I had allowed this to happen.
After five strokes, she dropped the whip on the floor with a clatter, and I thrust her hand between my legs.
‘Oh!’ I gasped, and knew from the moist, slurping sound that my pussy was beyond damp. But I certainly couldn’t admit to feeling any pleasure – quite the reverse, in fact, I had hated the dreadful sting of the cane.
‘Mmmm,’ was all Jenny said, then, picking up the cane, proceeded to thrash me again, harder, if anything, than before. When she had finished, I was sobbing quietly, my body heaving as I writhed at the agony of the cane.
‘Look after the slut, Wendy, will you, and don’t forget to put this back where it belongs,’ she said, handing her the butt-plug. Then she strode out of the room, pausing long enough at the door to call back to me, ‘And see you wear something appropriate for dinner!’
The maid came and sat beside me, waiting until I had stopped shaking, then wiping the tears from my eyes. Then, like my mother when I was a little girl, she ‘kissed my tears away.’ I smiled ruefully, and obligingly turned onto my side so that she could tend my stinging buttocks. She tutted as she traced the red welts that the cane had brought up, soothing them with some kind of cream. When she had finished, I felt much better, the pain less acute.
She showed me the offending plug, smiling prettily, and I knew then that she wasn’t guilty of ratting on me to Jenny. I nodded, and eased my buttocks apart with both hands, still on my side with my back to Wendy, my head resting on a cushion.
She wiggled a long finger around in my anus, causing me to moan softly, then, as she pushed the big plug slowly into my tight hole, couldn’t resist running her other hand the length of my wet crack. I moaned again, louder, but Wendy had an eye on the door, in case Jenny returned, and, patting my thigh, then stood and left me alone. I picked up my dress, and went to my room. I studied my rear end in the big mirror – there was, I could see, no lasting damage, but it still stung, though not so fiercely since Wendy’s ministrations. Suddenly, I felt a strange pride in having withstood the beating.
At dinner, I sat primly on the edge of my chair, trying to avoid sitting on my stripes, a long, cream silk nightdress my only item of clothing. I had gone to a lot of trouble with my make-up and hair, and Jenny noticed.
‘You look quite lovely, darling,’ she commented, and ran the back of one elegant hand down my cheek. I kissed the tips of her fingers. ‘Thank you, mistress.’
She smiled kindly at me. Her long hair was up in a French knot, showing off her long neck, where she wore a diamond necklace. She was encased in a black silk sheath dress.
‘You took your caning well, I thought,’ she suddenly said, some time later, ‘I find the cane hurts much more than the whip.’
‘You…’ I began.
She was still smiling. ‘Oh yes, darling, I have been punished too.’ But she didn’t enlighten me any further, and I was left staring at her.
‘Do finish your dinner, my dear Petra,’ she said.
I did as she told me, musing on the picture of my mistress – I was starting to really think of Jenny as ‘mistress’ – being whipped. The thought, incongruous though it was, was oddly exciting.
Later, over coffee, she asked me about my morning in the boutique, and praised me roundly when I told her about it. Then she regarded me seriously, and said, ‘After lunch tomorrow, I’m taking you to be pierced.’ She wouldn’t be pressed as to the nature of the piercings she wished me to have, making me nervous – a video a girl at school had shown me on her mobile phone was of someone with enough rings in her pussy-lips to stock an ironmongers’ shop.
When I got home next day, after a reasonably satisfactory morning in the boutique, Jenny was waiting for me. ‘Don’t change today, darling. Your dress will do fine. But you can take your plug out for the afternoon. A quick bite of lunch and we’ll go.’
So it was that an hour later, shaking like a leaf, I was ushered up the stairs to an unmarked office door between a dentist’s surgery and an insurance office, somewhere near Wimbledon. A knock brought a pretty, smiling black girl in a spotless white coat, to the door, and she and Jenny were on easy, first-name terms. I was urged to take a seat, and the proferred one was all too similar to what I would have expected in the dentist’s next door. The similarity was even more evident when Lisa, as I learned her name was, bade me open my mouth, then swiftly pushed in a ‘spreader’ device which kept me gaping wide.
‘Put your tongue out, my dear,’ she said, and I saw out of my eye-corner that Jenny was smiling, as she looked on with interest. I now knew what I was in for, and wondered just how uncomfortable it would be to have my tongue pierced. Lisa had already placed a clip on the tip of my tongue, so that I couldn’t retract it, and now sprayed it with something that deadened it immediately, and felt pleasantly cool. I felt nothing when she quickly pierced my tongue, after consulting Jenny as to exactly where she wanted her to place the stud. In no time at all, I was looking in a hand-mirror, at a pretty decoration, more like a little brooch than a stud, with a stone at its centre, quite close to the tip of my tongue, closer, I thought, than was usual.
Jenny explained, ‘It will give more pleasure there, darling.’ But she didn’t say to whom.
I started to get up, but Jenny said, ‘Oh no, my dear, we haven’t finished yet,’ and I sank back down in the chair, which Lisa reclined right back. Then she fiddled about with something down by my feet.
When she next spoke, it was to say, ‘Put your ankles in the stirrups now, please.’ But before I could do anything of the sort, she lifted my legs, one by one, spreading them wide, and locking my ankles into closed stirrups. My short dress was already riding up, but now Lisa exposed my nakedness fully, pulling the hem right up to my waist.
‘Mmm, I love the chain, Jenny,’ she said, toying with its loose end for a moment. I noticed that it was Jenny she addressed, rather than me, and was reminded unnecessarily of my status.
Without much ado, more spray was applied, and I soon had a little silver ring in my navel. ‘I’ve just put a ring in, Jenny, you can hang all manner of decoration there,’ said Lisa.
Again I thought, wrongly, that she may have finished. She was smiling down at me, her beautiful teeth sparkling, and showing a tiny stone set in one of her front teeth. It was, I thought, a charming detail.
‘Now,’ she said, in a businesslike tone, ‘We’ll do the important stuff, shall we?’
I had an inkling of what she meant, and trembled visibly.
‘I know, my love,’ she said, ‘you think it will hurt when we pierce your clit, don’t you?’
‘Y…yes, I do.’
‘You’re right, of course, it will hurt terribly, because we can’t deaden it, or it hides away. But it’s worth it – you’ll remember the feeling for a long time.’
As if to underline her words, she lifted the skirt of her lab coat, revealing a clean-shaven pussy, from which dangled a short gold chain, with a tiny globe at its end. But I couldn’t tell at a glance whether it hung from her clit or from her hood. In any case, I thought it was very pretty, and said so.
‘Again just a ring, right?’ said Jenny, ‘then I can hang anything from it.’ She laughed nastily.
‘Of course,’ said Lisa, ‘do you want to prepare her?’
‘No, my dear, you can do it, you know you like that part.’
Lisa then knelt on a small footstool between my legs, and I felt her hand exploring my crack.
‘I see she’s been caned recently,’ she said, ‘I miss that sometimes.’
While I was pondering the significance of that remark, I felt a long, slender finger go quite suddenly into my rectum, the long, sharp fingernail scartching at tender tissue. I felt excitement building in me, and saw it reflected in Lisa’s face, as her other hand stroked and massaged my pussy. Then a thumb and forefinger was working at my clit, teasing it out from under the protecting hood. Another finger joined the first in my anus, and I knew I was building to a great climax. But then Lisa turned her head to Jenny, and said, ‘She’s ready!’
Rapidly, she withdrew her fingers from my arsehole, and had something in that hand, while her other was still pinching my now thoroughly extended clitoris.
What came next was the most awful, exquisite pain I think I had ever known – or ever hoped to – as the ultra-sharp piercing needle perforated the very most delicate part of my anatomy. I screamed, and I believe I came at the same moment as the dreadful instrument impaled my engorged clit. I may even have passed out momentarily, because I have no memory of the next few seconds – then Lisa was holding up the mirror again, so that I could see a little silver ring now transfixing my little bud.
When my breathing had got back to normal, she gave me an antiseptic mouthwash for my tongue, and lotion to help heal my other piercings. ‘No sex for a few days,’ she said, then pointedly, ‘at least, not there!’
On the way back, I asked Jenny about Lisa, and why they had been so familiar.
‘She was once my slave,’ she said, ‘but fell in love with one of my friends.’ We sat in silence for the rest of the journey, each with her own thoughts. Mine centred on the strange feeling my tongue stud gave me, of having something foreign in my mouth, and the soreness of my pussy.
When we got home, Jenny sent me off to change, and I encountered Wendy in the passageway. I showed her my piercings, and she said she’d like to have some done too.
Over dinner, Jenny told me she had to go to Paris for a meeting, and was booked on a flight that evening. She would be away ‘three or four days.’ I told her I should miss her, and meant it. My life had undergone a complete change, and I could scarcely bear being alone again, even for a few days.
‘When I get back, your piercings should have settled down, anyway,’ she said, ‘but you can sleep with Wendy if you want – I’ll have a word with her.’
That she had spoken with the maid became apparent almost as soon as I got to bed that night. A hesitant knock sounded on my door, and Wendy slid in, her long hair loose, wearing a little silk slip. I patted the bed beside me, inviting her to slide into the satin sheets.
‘You know I can’t have sex until my piercings have been done a few days?’ I said.
‘I know, Miss Petra,’ she said, as she took my hand and placed it on her tiny breast, with its puffy nipple thrusting into my palm. I desperately wanted to kiss her, despite my sore tongue, and managed a kiss of sorts. We embraced in an almost chaste manner, until I directed the maid’s hand up under the hem of my nightdress, and placed it on my buttock. She got the idea, and, for the second time that day, I felt the ecstasy that accompanies a finger probing into my velvet tunnel. Simultaneously I found Wendy’s wet, hot pussy with my free hand, and she moaned loudly as I worked three fingers deep into her soaking cunt. We were going to be able to entertain each other in our mistress’s absence!
The time passed more quickly than had seemed likely until Jenny’s return, but I was anticipating seeing her again most keenly as I returned from the boutique on the lunchtime in question. I knew she was due around five o’clock, so I got Wendy to help me make up, and do my hair up in an elaborate style, then wriggled into the lace play-suit I had not worn since I had tried it on. It was incredibly sexy, but I took it off again, as I knew it would impede my mistress if she wanted to have access to my body, and I put on a fur-trimmed white baby-doll nightdress, which barely reached down to my hips. I wondered about putting the butt-plug in place, then decided I’d forget about it for now, as my mistress hadn’t mentioned it before going away. Rather ‘jumping the gun’ I clipped a silver pendant ear-ring onto my clit-ring, so that it dangled prettily between my legs, and then fastened its twin to my navel-ring. I called Wendy to inspect me, and she said she thought I looked good enough to eat, only suggesting that I wear white seamed hold-ups and a pair of very high stilettos. I agreed, and declared myself satisfied when I looked in the mirror.
My mistress was also, I was delighted to see, satisfied with the effort I had made.
‘I’ve really missed you, my darling Petra, and you look gorgeous,’ she said, ‘next time, I shall have to take you with me.’
‘I’d love that, mistress,’ I said, ‘can I do anything for you?’
She looked at me for a few moments. ‘Yes, I think you can,’ she said, her lust showing plainly in her lovely eyes, ‘I’d love to whip you!’
‘But mistress, I didn’t think…’
‘No, darling, you’ve done nothing wrong. Quite the reverse, in fact. I’d like to whip you for our pleasure. Do you understand?’
‘Oh yes, mistress,’ I heard myself saying.
‘Would you mind if I hurt you?’
‘Good. Have a drink, while I go and change.’
I sat toying with a glass of wine, and could scarcely believe what I had just said. Was I mad? I had just agreed for my mistress to hurt me. And for pleasure! ‘Our’ pleasure! That’s what she’d said.
When my mistress returned, she was wearing a skin-tight, knee-length, black latex skirt, and a transparent black blouse, her lovely full breasts completely displayed. Long black, spike-heeled boots completed her outfit. Extending her hand to me, she drew me from my seat, and kissed me deeply, then said, ‘Take your nightdress off, darling.’ Quickly, I lifted the flimsy garment over my head and stood before my mistress in my hold-ups, wearing nothing else but my waist-chain and collar. She appraised me, then nodded and took from a sideboard drawer leather wrist- and ankle-restraints, which she proceded to buckle on to me.
Next, Jenny picked up a remote control from the same sideboard, and pressed a button. I was surprised to hear a click from above my head, and a concealed flap opened, allowing a chain to descend. It had a snap-link at its end, and my mistress deftly clipped the rings in my wrist-restraints to the snap-link, then, lifting traps in the parquet floor, soon had my anklets clipped in place, my feet a metre apart. Returning to the remote, she pressed another control, and I felt my arms dragged up, until they were way above my head, my feet only in contact with th floor by dint of my high heels. I felt her gentle hand sliding its way between my legs, and knew instantly that she would detect the dampness that lay there.
‘Mmm,’ she murmured, but made no further comment, and her hels clicked across the parquet, then returned. She held up a leather whip for me to examine. It had a pretty, ornate handle, and braided leather thong a metre or so long.
‘Kiss it, darling,’ she invited, and I did as she said, then she gave it a trial swish, so that it whistled as it flew through the air.
‘I believe I’d like to give you twenty strokes, my love. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
When I didn’t reply, she asked me the same question again.
‘Yes, mistress,’ I replied, shaking now with fear and anticipation.
‘Good,’ she said, ‘it’s so exciting to hurt you, darling.’
She stood back, gave another sharp flick with the whip, then flogged me across my stomach, so that the lash wrapped itself around my pale body. The sting was immediate – nowhere near as bad as the cane, but somehow a more complete, all-enveloping pain, into which I could lose myself, submerse myself in a place where all was agony, exquisite pain which filled my whole being. I hardly felt the next several strokes as they rained down on me, now across my proud, naked breasts, now around my tender thighs.
She walked around behind me and lashed my back, so that the very tip of the thong snaked around the side of my breast, then the soft flesh of my buttocks, so that I gasped when the stroke fell on wounds left over from my caning. I lost count, now in another world, where pain and ecstasy were one.
Suddenly Jenny was kissing me, infinitely tenderly. ‘Sorry if I hurt you too much, darling,’ she breathed.
‘Oh no mistress,’ I said, and meant it. I had cum twice as she whipped me. But she had more in store, and I watched her as she lay down the whip, bent over and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Then she stepped into the harness of a huge black phallus of a strap-on, and came back to me, the obscene weapon jutting out from her belly, as she applied some sort of cream to it..
She took up the remote, and I felt blessed relief as the tension ease on my arms, Leaving my ankles attached, so that my legs remained wide apart, Jenny now pushed my body gently down, so that I was suspended by my arms, body horizontal. Coming around behind me, without warning I felt an excruciating pain, worse by far than the whip – which, in truth, I had enjoyed – as the massive dildo tore into my arsehole, transfixing me by its huge length. Now my mistress dtrove it back and forth, pounding in and out of my poor anus, and I think I screamed with each dreadful stroke. But the thrill was building too, and once more I came, with a violent, rushing climax. As my mistress was finally satisfied, I slumped in my bonds, completely spent. As Jenny released me, I somehow managed to say, ‘But you, mistress, you can’t have had satisfaction?’
‘But of course I did, darling,’ she smiled, ‘I came while I whipped you, and again as I penetrated your arsehole.’
Life went on quietly for a few days after my whipping, as I went to the boutique in the mornings, and my mistress and I made love in the afternoons, with Wendy occasionally joining us on Jenny’s huge bed. Then one day, my mistress said, ‘I’m going to loan you out tomorrow.’
I was aghast. ‘B…but, mistress……’
‘No buts,’ she said, sternly, ‘I’ve promised Rina that I will loan you to her.’
‘But mistress,’ I persisted, ‘she already has a slave.’
‘Yes,’ she said, her tongue flicking out ever so lightly, as it did when she was contemplating something pleasurable, ‘Louise is coming here for a couple of days, while you are with Rina.’
The next day was Sunday, and that meant no work for a couple of days. At breakfast, my mistress told me that Wendy had been told to help me get ready for my trip to Rina’s, and sent me to my room, dismissing me rather coldly with a peck on the cheek.
When I got to my room, I found Wendy already there, a small suitcase packed, and things laid out on the bed for me to wear.
I slipped out of the nightgown I had worn to breakfast, and hesitantly picked up the black corset from the bed.
‘I’ll help you with that, Miss Petra,’ said Wendy, ‘let’s take this off.’
She unclipped my waist-chain, and I was no sooner feeling free of its weight than she was buttoning up the corset, down the front. It fitted me snugly, but then she walked around behind me, and I felt almost crushed as she tugged the corset’s cruel lacing as tight as her strength would allow, restricting my waist to almost nothing. My tits were thrust upwards, the nipples poking up above the corset’s ruched top. My buttocks, still showing faint stripes from my last whipping, were completely bare. Now Wendy handed me a pair of Chinese lacquered balls, connected by a short cord.
‘Would you like me to put them in for you?’ she enquired, lasciviously.
‘OK,’ I said, handing them back.
She stood before me, watching my face, as she reached down between my legs, and pushed the balls gently into my vagina, already damp as I felt the new sensation of pain and anticipation the corset had brought. I couldn’t resist a little ‘oh’ as her hand lingered a little longer than was strictly necessary around my pussy.
‘Oh Miss Petra,’ she said, ‘I’m going to miss you.’
‘And I, you,’ I said, ‘but it will only be a couple of days.’
She had returned to the bed, and picked up a skirt to show me.
‘I’ll never get into that,’ I said. Knee-length, it was black satin, and looked scarcely wider than a trouser-leg.
‘It’ll be tight,’ said Wendy, unnecessarily, as she opened a zip than ran its entire length.
Somehow, I got into the skirt. Coupled with the corset, stockings latched onto long gareter-straps, and five-inch needle heels, I was exquisitely uncomfortable, and said so.
‘The mistress says that mistress Rina puts Louise in clothes like this all the time. And Louise has told me that mistress Rina is very strict.’
She then slipped a transparent black organdie blouse over my shoulders. ‘I can’t go out in this!’ I exclaimed, when I saw my nipples jutting through the sheer material.
‘You’re only going to be in the car,’ Wendy replied.
Just then I heard the doorbell ring, and then heard Louise’s voice: ‘Yes, mistress. Thank you mistress.’
Then Jenny called me down – I was to go to Rina’s in the car that Louise had arrived in. I minced down the stairs, unable to take more than tiny steps in the extra-tight skirt, and it was very difficult to get into the Mercedes and sit down. The driver was a black woman, perhaps forty years old, with straightened hair, wearing a black silk dress and heels. She said not a word after telling me her name was Maria, as we drove out into leafy lanes, away from civilization, I thought.
At last we arrived at a big old house, set back from the road, amongst beech woods.
Maria opened the door for me, and carried my suitcase as we walked the few steps
Onto a terraced porch. She opened a big, ornate door for me, and waved me in. Inside, the house was sumptuous, with lovely antique furniture, but no sight was lovelier than Rina, who stood at the foot of a wide staircase. Instead of the sexy western dress she had worn when we met, she was now attired in a green silk sari, and dripping with gold jewellery, including a charming little chain that looped from a tiny ring in the side of her nose to her left ear-lobe. Her lustrous black hair looked thicker and silkier than ever, and her bronze skin seemed to glow.
‘Hello, Petra,’ she said, ‘I hope you enjoy being dressed as you are. I guess it’s a first for you?’
‘Yes. Mistress Rina.’
‘Good, and I’m glad you are wearing Jennifer’s collar. That shows proper respect.’
She was studying me thoughtfully. ‘How often does Jennifer whip you?’ she suddenly asked, ‘no, take off your skirt, I shall be able to see.’
I struggled to unzip myself, and let the garment fall to the floor. Rina spun me around by one arm, showing unsuspected strength.
‘Hmmm,’ she mused, ‘it’s been a while, hasn’t it?’
‘About five days, mistress Rina.’
‘We’ll have to remedy that immediately, then. I shall love whipping you, my dear, you are so pretty, but a few welts will make you still prettier, won’t they, Maria?’
I realised with a shock that the black girl had just melted into the shadows, rather than left. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ she said.
‘Prepare the girl, will you, Maria,’ she said, then walked sedately up the stairs, in a rustle of silk.
Straight away, Maria started to undress me, taking off my blouse, then unbuttoning the cruel corset, so that I felt instant relief from its terrible restraint. Next she had me step out of my heels, then put them back on after she had rolled down my stockings. She then just let me stand there. I was naked, trembling slightly as I awaited my fate. It was cool in the big hallway, and that was another reason why I was shivering as Rina re-appeared and slowly descended the staircase, which wouldn’t have looked out of place in some stately home. She had changed and now wore virginal white silk, a long, halter-necked, backless dress, her breasts jiggling as she walked slowly down the stairs, black hair and dark complexion contrasting with the white gown. I had never seen anyone so beautiful, and I was in rapture just looking at her.
Maria handed her a long, leather riding crop.
‘I’m going to hurt you, darling,’ she said, tongue darting out to lick her lips as she anticipated her pleasure.
‘Yes, mistress Rina,’ I said – she could do with me as she pleased, I thought.
‘Kneel on the floor!’ I did so, the wood cool under my knees.
‘Hands behind your head – hold up your hair!’ she ordered.
No sooner had I done so, than an awful pain wracked my tender back as her vicious stroke scythed across it.
I gasped and writhed under the crop as another and another blow rained down on me. Out of my eye-corner I could see Rina’s face twisted into an animal ferocity as she laid into me. Her lovely breasts heaved with the effort she put into whipping me, but suddenly, she handed the crop to the silent Maria, and, taking no more than a couple of paces, sat down gracefully on the couch.
‘Come to me!’ she instructed, and I crawled up to her long, silk-clad legs.
‘Raise my skirt,’ she told me, and I lifted the hem gingerly up her slender legs.
‘All the way up!’ she snapped, opening her legs as I pushed her skirt up to her waist, revealing a neat, shaven pussy, dark brown lips hiding untold pleasures.
‘Lick me!’ she gasped, obviously as excited as I was. The pain in my back receded as I parted her dusky labia, finding her pink cunt wet beyond belief. My studded tongue darted almost of its own volition, deep into her luscious, sweet depths, and I heightened her pleasure by working a finger into her tight arsehole, as my tongue worked at her wetness.
Her hands were behind my head, stroking my hair, but then she yelled, ‘Maria, now!’
A searing pain again hit me as the black girl lashed my buttocks with the wicked crop, and Rina shrieked as my tongue plunged again. The she stiffened, went completely rigid, and I was drenched as her fluids squirted out of her in a gushing torrent. I came too, an orgasm such as I had never before known, leaving me utterly spent.
Later, Rina, with the utmost tenderness, soothed the livid welts she showed me in her mirror, making a red pattern on my back and behind. Then she enfolded me in her arms and we slept, naked between satin sheets, on her enormous bed. When I woke, Rina was still asleep, breathing deeply, contentedly, in my arms. I looked at her in the sunlight that dappled her, patterned by curtains, and thought again that she must be the most beautiful woman in the whole world. I thought about my new life. My mistress had wanted to change me, albeit temporarily, for Louise. I loved Jenny, but was that enough? If my love wasn’t reciprocated, could I live with that? And what did I think about Rina? No, I knew what I thought about Rina, but did that make me promiscuous? I grinned to myself. You’re a slut, Petra, I thought, Jenny had said as much, more than once. Well, sluts are, by their nature, promiscuous, aren’t they?
I looked again at Rina, as she stirred, and slowly opened her big, dark-chocolate eyes.
‘Petra,’ she said, ‘Are you hurting, darling?’
‘No, mistress Rina,’ I replied, ‘Inside, I am very well.’
‘You came, when I……’
‘When you whipped me, yes, and again when Maria whipped me.’
The memory of that precious moment drifted across her lovely face, and she offered her luscious lips for me to kiss. I did so, my tongue-stud flicking against her teeth and her own tongue as mine darted in and out, fucking her mouth.
When she eased my legs apart, I suddenly realised that I still had the Chinese balls in my cunt, and I reached own and pulled them out, with an audible plop.
‘You really are a slut, aren’t you, Petra,’ said Rina, but she was smiling as she said it.
‘Yes, mistress Rina.’
‘I’d like to sit on your face,’ she said, suddenly.
‘Oh yes, please, I’d love that.’ I pulled away from her and lay back on the bed so that she could straddle me, and lower her fragrant pussy ever so slowly onto my face. I thrust my tongue hard into her damp cunt, and started to fuck her as she rode up and down, soaking my face with her abundant juices. Soon she began to moan rhythmically, and as I had the night before, I rammed a long finger deep into her anus, bringing her to a mighty climax. I had hit on what she liked best.
Breathing heavily, she lay down beside me. ‘I’m so selfish,’ she said, ‘I’ll bring you off when I get my breath back.’
‘There’s no need, mistress Rina,’ I told her, ‘I came when you did.’
And that was the essence of it, I thought. I could have an orgasm just looking at her, and the thought that I was giving her true pleasure was enough for me.
We dressed to go out. This time, our roles were reversed, and Rina told me to put on a tiny, silky miniskirt and a loose silk blouse, because, she said, she liked to see my breasts jiggle around when I walked. The skirt hid little, and I knew that I had only to bend over, or sit down, and my naked pussy would be on show. When Rina came down to the hallway to join me, she was clad in red latex, a knee-length dress which moulded her gorgeous body to perfection. As she approached me, I wondered how on earth she had got into it, but as she turned I saw that it was closed with a zip from hem to neck. She was encased so tightly in the dress she could hardly walk. Her hair was scraped back from her face, and caught up in a pony-tail, which fell to her waist. Silver ear-rings touched her slim shoulders, and the metallic heels of her red shoes were at least five inches long. Long black silk gloves completed her ensemble.
‘You look fantastic, mistress Rina,’ I said.
‘Thank you, darling,’ she said, ‘I just love the feeling of restraint, don’t you?’
‘Yes, mistress Rina, but I look quite “little girl” today, I think.’
She smiled. ‘Yes, my dear, I’d like to show you off. Your beauty is inspiring to me – it makes me want to punish you.’
‘You can do with me as you please, mistress,’ I heard myself say.
‘Perhaps later, then.’
Rina had Maria drive us into a nearby market town, and we made for a smart wine bar.
As we walked in, I felt like a little schoolgirl, being brought along by this fantastic creature, a cloak flung lazily over her shoulders doing little to conceal her amazing dress. Hungry eyes followed us – male and female – as we were shown to a corner table. Rina’s two friends were already there, and I was introduced to Helen and Shireen, who was, like Rina, of Asian extraction. I quickly realised that she was Helen’s slave, as, like me, she didn’t dare speak.
Rina and Helen chatted inconsequentially as a bottle of Merlot was brought, and when I accepted a glass, Helen turned her attention to me, then spoke to Rina.
‘Petra is a great improvement on Louise, darling. You should try to keep her, really you should.’
‘I don’t think Jenny would agree – they’re related you know.’
‘Let me have a word – I’m a very good client of hers, and she said she liked Louise last time we spoke.’
‘Would you, darling?’
I was a little taken aback – they were talking about me, and my life, as if I were an item of furniture, but I made no comment.
But in the back of the Mercedes on the way back, Rina apologised.
‘I’m sorry about that. We shouldn’t have talked about you without I consulted you first.’
‘I understand, mistress Rina.’ At least, I ought to try to. I was trying to make sense of my situation. Was I to understand that Rina really wanted to have me in exchange for Louise? I decided to come right out an ask her.
‘If that’s what you’d like, darling,’ was her reply.
I fell silent. I knew with absolute certainty that I was falling in love with Rina – that a time was nigh when I should want to be with her every minute of my life. But what of Jenny? How would she take it? Did she like Louise so much? And, most important of all, what were Rina’s true feelings?
I glanced sideways at her, only to find that she was studying my face intently.
‘What?’ she said, ‘Are you wondering if you can take the pain I shall give you?’
I shook my head. Then I came right out with it, the words tumbling out in a rush.
‘You can whip me, cane me, anything you want, if only you love me!’
‘Oh, darling,’ she said throwing an arm around my shoulders and pulling me to her, ‘I loved you as soon as I saw you. I recognised a submissive – my submissive – in you immediately. If we can arrange it, you really will be mine.’
She kissed me deeply then, and a gloved hand travelled up my leg, causing me to gasp when she found my damp pussy. She brought me off quickly, just by touching me, as I looked into her liquid eyes and melted. And I just knew that she woul talk Jenny into doing the swap – I knew my aunt had taken a fancy to Louise.
‘Oh mistress,’ I said, ‘I’m ready to die for you.’
‘Not yet, darling,’ she licked her lips in a gesture I was coming to know, ‘but I think I’d quite like to chain you up.’
I followed my new mistress down stone steps into a basement I had never before seen. The future seemed to hold as much excitement as I could take.