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Vanessa's Vocation

By: Calandria



This is a fantasy, needless to say – you may like it, or not. I never know where these stories are going when I start to write them .I don't know about you, I prefer fairly straight sex, but it's boring to read and write about, so here goes! 

*

My name, for many long years, sounded to me like a joke. It sounded so sexy, so sophisticated, the name my parents had chosen, when they had decided to bring me up like a 'Mary' or a 'Joan' – that style of thing, you know what I mean. At school, I was the last to wear short skirts, never allowed make-up, and as for boy-friends, well, they had to wait until I'd finished my studies, didn't they?

But then, after some athletic success in my mid-teens, I discovered that academia wasn't for me, and rebelled. Well, I mean, who doesn't? I left school at sixteen, went to work in a shoe-shop with a fellow high-jumper from the local athletics club, and caused my parents so much grief that they almost disowned me. It all revolved around a boyfriend, of course, who, looking back, was about as much use as a chocolate teapot. My own age, he was sexually naïve, gauche and awkward, and my first amorous encounters were disastrous, fumbling affairs, invariably terminating in premature ejaculation and acute dissatisfaction.

But whilst working at the shoe-shop, I started to look at the sophisticated ladies who came in to try on shoes, and, on Mondays and at other quiet times, I took to people-watching, and wondering if I could somehow aspire to be like one of the beautiful people I saw walking about town.

I can even put a precise time to my transformation. My parents had gone away for their summer holidays to a French campsite, something I had long since stopped wanting to accompany them on, and I was alone in the house. I was just eighteen, and had finished with Tim, had an unsatisfactory flirtation with a slightly older biology student, Kevin, and was generally at a loose end. I arose late on the Saturday morning after my parents' departure, and took a long, hard look at myself in my mother's full length mirror. Looking back at me was a surprisingly nicely-put-together woman, I thought. I had matured into a tall, slim, long-legged young woman, with a small, heart-shaped face and a nice even-toothed smile, long, thick, honey-blonde hair, narrow waist and smallish, firm breasts. I saw no reason not to try and improve my own prospects, and resolved, there and then, to do something about it.

As soon as my parents returned, I announced my intention of taking a few months off, and immediately raised a storm of protest, but I wasn't to be diverted, and two weeks later, I was on a flight to Madrid, armed with my savings in the form of credit cards, for no better reason than that I got a cheap flight, and had a few words of school Spanish.

Once in Madrid, I thought I should take a few days to do some sightseeing, then try to go to one of the wine-growing areas, and see if I could find casual work. From Barajas airport, I took the Metro into the city and found a cheap hotel near the centre, booking in for three nights. It was four in the afternoon and hot, so I changed from my travelling outfit of jeans and tee-shirt into a cotton miniskirt and an off-the-shoulder cotton blouse, slipped on a pair of comfortable shoes and went out into the blazing sunshine. 

It was uncomfortable walking, even so scantily clad, so I stopped and ordered a pineapple juice at a café and sat outside, watching the world go by, wondering if I had done the right thing.

'I think you are English,' said a deep, cultured voice, with only a trace of a Spanish accent, half behind me. I turned and was looking into the brown eyes of a man in his late forties, I guessed, even early fifties – yes, early fifties, I revised my opinion. He had wavy grey hair, and chiselled features. He wore a cream linen suit, complete with jacket, despite the intense August heat, and a brown button-down shirt with an open neck.

'May I?' he asked, taking a seat beside me, as if I had concurred already. 'Rafael de la Fuente.'

'Vanessa Carden,' I replied, 'pleased to meet you.' Though I wasn't too sure I wanted to meet anybody at all – not just yet.

Rafael insisted on buying me another juice, and was disappointed that I would take nothing stronger. He spoke excellent English, and when I told him I was interested to know how he had picked me out as being English, he became a little coy, then laughed gently and said, 'Spanish girls look a bit different, and almost always....er, wear bras, you know.' 

I looked at him, not sure whether to be annoyed that he had noticed I had not been wearing a bra, then burst out laughing, and the awkwardness between us was gone. I could scarcely believe it when he invited me to dinner that evening, and even less so when I accepted. My God, Vanessa, I thought, what are you doing? A dinner date with a man older than your father?

As Rafael took his leave of me, after arranging to pick me up at the hotel at eight-thirty, (eight-thirty, I thought – now I know I'm in Spain!) he said, 'Wear something beautiful.'

I was in a panic. My rucksack, back at the hotel, contained jeans, shorts, tee-shirts, underwear – nothing else. OK, then, desperate measures. I headed for El Corte Inglés, and raided the sales, currently in full swing. In a couple of hours I had found a dress the like of which my parents would never have approved, a long electric blue, backless halter-neck shift. Rafael had noted my lack of a bra, so he wasn't going to miss one tonight either, and the skirt was so tight and of such thin material that panties were out of the question too. I needed shoes to go with it, and Spain is well supplied with shoe shops. I was surprised at the cheapness, when compared to the ones I had been selling, and bought a pair of outrageously high black stilettos. 

When I had bathed and washed and brushed out my long hair to a silky sheen, I slipped into the new dress, and looked at my metamorphosis in the mirror of my tacky room. I didn't recognise this Vanessa. When Rafael rang my room phone at precisely eight-thirty, I slipped on my new shoes, and hoped I shouldn't have to walk too far in them. He was waiting for me in the lobby, dressed in a white tuxedo and black tie – was I glad I had bought the new dress!

'Vanessa. You look quite stunning,' he said, and led me out to a shining black Lexus parked illegally outside, opening the passenger door, and helping me arrange my dress before closing the door.

We drove for a surprising thirty five minutes, running into leafy suburbs, then parkland, before turning off up a narrow track and stopping in a car park full off very expensive cars outside a castellated restaurant, with a uniformed attendant at the door. He seemed to be familiar with my escort, greeting him and nodding formally to me as we entered.

The Maitre d' showed us to a corner table, sumptuously set for four, and I took in the surroundings – and very elegant they were, with well-dressed people conversing quietly, as soft music played. I expressed surprise that our table was for four, and Rafael told me he had taken the liberty of inviting friends to dine with us. 'I think you will enjoy their company, my dear,' he said.

We ordered drinks, and no sooner had our gin and tonics arrived than our fellow diners joined us. Juan was, I supposed, in his thirties, and darkly handsome, wearing a black

dinner jacket and white polo-neck shirt, whilst his partner, Alicia, was petite, with flashing black eyes, and jet black hair piled elaborately on top of her head. She wore a ruinously expensive-looking long white silk gown, open at the front right down to her waist. 

When introductions had been made, I said laughingly to Rafael, 'I thought you said Spanish girls wear bras.'

Alicia said, 'We aren't all Victorian, you know. Some of us are quite liberated.'

I must have flushed bright red: 'I'm so sorry – I didn't realise you understood English so perfectly, and I didn't mean to.....well, you know........'

She was smiling, and put a cool hand on mine. 'Don't feel bad. I do understand,' she said, 'and I know why Rafael brought you. You are very pretty.'

This did nothing to lessen my embarrassment, but the waiter came and took our order, and a delicious meal ensued, washed down with ample quantities of good wine.

A little unsteadily, I stood up to go to the toilet, and Alicia volunteered to accompany me, guiding me to the sumptuous bathroom. When I had used the loo, she came and stood with me as we repaired our make-up, and took my hand in hers.

'Vanessa, how long did you plan on staying in Madrid?' she asked.

'Just about three days,' I replied.

'Rafael has asked me to put something to you,' she said. 

I turned to her in surprise. I had wondered at the dinner invitation. Things like that just didn't happen to me, and suspicion was now filling my mind. Then again, I had never had a meal like that in my life before, nor been in such a restaurant, in the company of such elegant people. I decided to hear her out.

'Come and live with us,' she said, looking directly into my eyes, 'stay as long as you want, enjoy our lifestyle, and leave if and when you wish.'

I looked hard at her, wondering if alcohol was clouding my judgement, as I was on the verge of agreeing. For the sake of argument, I asked, 'What's the catch?'

'I said, we have our own lifestyle. You will soon know whether you like it or not. If not, you leave. There is no catch. Come, let us join the others, then you can decide.'

In truth, I had already decided. I liked Alicia instinctively, and was, I suppose, a little bit in love with the urbane Rafael already.

'Well?' he asked, simply, 'what do you think?' when we returned. 

'Very well,' I said, 'just so long as I can leave whenever I want.'

He leaned over the table and kissed me softly, full on the lips, and I found myself opening my mouth instinctively in response.

Whether it was the effect of the wine or not, my hand crept into his lap as he drove us back into Madrid, and I found myself gently massaging a considerable erection through his trousers by the time we had entered the traffic flow of the city centre.

When we arrived at the hotel, he parked the Lexus in an underground car park, and accompanied me to my Spartan little room, which he viewed with ill-concealed distaste.

'Tomorrow, we'll put you somewhere much nicer,' he said.

As I pushed the door shut, there was barely room to stand between the bed and the dressing table, but I threw my arms around Rafael's neck, and drew his face down to mine. He kissed me, with the same softness he had shown in the restaurant, this time exploring my mouth with his darting tongue, while he felt for the fastening at the back of my neck. It only took a deft flick of his fingers to release this, and the halter-neck of my dress was unfastened, so that he was now able to cup my naked breasts with both hands. 

'You don't need a bra, do you?' he said.

'I don't like wearing one,' I replied.

He tweaked my nipples between thumb and forefinger, hurting them a little, and I cried out, but he moved his fingers to my lips, saying, 'A little pain is important, my dear – you will learn.'

Then, he sat on the bed, and told me to take my dress off. I hooked my fingers into the waistband, and gave a pull, and wriggled its tightness down over my hips, down to the floor. I was completely naked in front of him, as I had never stood naked in front of my boyfriends – or anyone. He looked at me critically, and turned me around.

'Very nice,' he said, 'but I think you must be shaved.' 

His words shocked me, but I forgot them instantly as, without delay, he unzipped his trousers and, apparently wearing no underpants, easily took out an impressive shaft, which he slowly massaged with his right hand, while I stood and watched. 

He reached out with his left hand, and felt my crack in the narrow confines of the room – I couldn't have got away if I had wanted to – I knew I was sopping wet with desire by now, and couldn't wait.

Without further ado, I lowered myself onto his beautiful cock, imprisoning its rampant length within the tight walls of my eager, waiting cunt. I gripped and released him with my vaginal muscles in time with his mighty thrusts, and his hand found my clitoris, and flicked at it as he drove in and out. I orgasmed violently three times, before he came in a hot, urgent gush, deep into my womb.

'I've never really been fucked before,' I told him, when we lay together, and he lit a small cigar, explaining that it was the only time he ever smoked. 

'You will be fucked again,' he said, 'don't worry.' How right he was!

Rafael left me, saying, 'Sleep now. You will be collected at eleven tomorrow. Your hotel bill is paid.'

I opened my mouth to speak, but he was out of the door, leaving me relaxed, but wondering what I had let myself in for.

At eleven sharp, I was sitting in the shabby lobby of the hotel, having packed my few belongings in my rucksack, breakfasted lightly on a delicious coffee and croissants, when a young guy in jeans and a real Madrid sweat-shirt appeared, saying, 'Señorita Vanessa?' This appeared to be the limit of his English, and all my efforts at conversation came to nothing.

I let him pick up my rucksack and lead me out to a Chrysler Voyager waiting outside.

It was a relatively short drive – about twenty minutes, to a smart suburb of the capital, and we turned onto a gravel drive and drew up outside an imposing portico, up to which six wide steps led. A uniformed maid opened the door when the young driver rang the bell, then she took over and led me, again in silence, to a room on the first floor, where she stood aside for me to enter. I realised that my rucksack had not been brought with me, and turned around to say so, only to find the maid no longer there. I closed the door behind me and looked around the room. It was an extremely nice one, with a double, four-poster bed, big, mirrored wardrobes, and an en-suite bathroom. I was just about to investigate the contents of the wardrobes and the many drawers and cupboards when there was a sharp knock on the door. I expected someone to come straight in, but nobody did, so, after waiting a moment, I called to them to come in.

'We respect privacy here,' said Alicia, by way of a greeting, when she walked in. She was only just recognisable from the sophisticated lady of last night, now dressed in a cotton print mini-dress, her black hair caught up in a pony-tail – she looked hardly more than a schoolgirl.

'Welcome to Casa Fontana,' she said, 'I hope you'll be happy here, and that we'll be friends. Rafael wants to see you downstairs in ten minutes.'

I asked her when my rucksack was coming, and she said, 'It will have been put in the store, I think. You should find everything you need here in your room. If you need anything personal from your rucksack, just ask one of the girls, and they'll fetch it for you.'

Alicia showed me the contents of the bathroom cabinet, and they were, indeed, comprehensive, with every kind of cosmetic I could think of, soaps and oils of all types, and a make-up kit to die for. A long cupboard contained expensive French perfumes, all unopened, of many brands. I whistled softly, and looked a question at Alicia, 'There's got to be a big catch in this,' I said, and I felt a deep suspicion gnawing within me. Was I being abducted into white slave trade? What was this all about? A part of me wanted to believe in Rafael, with the memory of last night's exquisite sex still warm between my legs, but then...........

Alicia was waiting for me, and I quickly brushed out my hair, looked critically at my image in the mirror, and then followed her down the broad staircase to a comfortable lounge, where Rafael was waiting, sat cross-legged in an overstuffed armchair, wearing cream chinos and a blue polo shirt. 

'Sit down, please, Vanessa,' he indicated another armchair opposite, and Alicia left us alone.

'You will be wondering what on earth this is all about.' He smiled briefly. 'Well you may, because my organisation is probably unique. When you hear what I have to tell you, it may be that you will wish to leave immediately. I should like your word that you will not divulge anything of what I am about to tell you, should you do so?'

I nodded my assent.

'OK. I picked you because I recognise something in you, don't ask me what, but something I have come to know, and something I think was partly confirmed last night.' He smiled again, and I felt an involuntary dampness creeping out between the lips of my sex. He was irresistible, and I wanted his thick cock to fill me again - now.

'I will continue. I run a business. It is called 'Reality BDSM.' We give shows to small private BDSM clubs, in many parts of the world, for which I charge a considerable sum of money, of course. I take it you understand the initials 'BDSM?''

I nodded dumbly – girls at school had imported some pretty corny spanking mags – stuff like that, so I wasn't completely naïve, but had never thought of myself as likely to get involved with this sort of scene.

He was continuing, 'The "reality" part is the cornerstone of my business. The only reason I survive, and have done for several years, is that the shows we give are real, in the sense that the protagonists are doing what they most want to do, what gives them most pleasure. That way, our shows have the spice of reality no amount of make-believe can suggest.' He paused to let this sink in.

I think my mouth was hanging open at this stage, because, he reached across and touched my knee, and asked, 'Shocked?'

'Yes, a little.'

'Want to go now?'

I heard myself say, 'Er...no, I don't think so.' Something about the whole thing fascinated me, I had to say, and the wetness between my legs was, if anything, increasing.

'You don't sound very sure, but I'll go on. If you decide to stay, you will take part in our shows, wherever they may be required. The pay is good, and a Swiss bank account will be opened in your name. Everything you need will be provided here free of charge. The first month of your stay will be one of learning our way of life – learning to enjoy what is, in fact, our very raison d'être. There is no formal training programme, but you will be asked to live by our codes, dress in a certain way, that kind of thing. As you haven't run away as yet, I take it you are interested. Have you any questions for me?'

I thought he was being evasive, at least on one subject, and I had seen this sort of thing in magazines. I had also read, a while ago, 'The Story of O' – and, incidentally, been turned on by it – so I had some idea, and fear.

'Am I to understand I shall be whipped?' I asked, 'like "O"'.

'Yes,' he smiled, 'as you ask, and I note you are well-read, but no real harm will come to you.'

I looked at Rafael, and knew that I was going to agree to his proposal. I had never before thought of myself as a submissive, and still didn't see myself in that role, but thoughts came crowding in, vivid literary memories of 'O' being chained and whipped, all-too-recent memories of Rafael tweaking my rigid nipples, then ramming his cock hard into my belly. I closed my eyes for a second, and said, 'Yes, Rafael, I'll come to you.' He simply nodded, stood, and leaning over, kissed her on both cheeks, then left without another word.

I wondered what would happen next, but only had a couple of minutes to wait, because a tall, slim blonde girl about my own age appeared by my shoulder, and smiled at me.

'Hi,' she said, with an American accent, 'I'm Cindy, I've gotta help you. Come on.'

We went up to my room and she sat down on my bed and started to tell me about the 'dress code' while I inspected the wardrobes and drawers. She told me that trousers were definitely a no-no, that panties were forbidden, and that bras had to leave nipples free, if they were worn at all. She said that Rafael liked elegant clothing, especially at dinner, for the girls, but that he also liked restraint, in the form of very tight long skirts you could hardly walk in for evening dress, and cruel whale-boned corsets, which all the girls were obliged to wear for at least two days a week.


Vanessa's Vocation Ch. 02



Everyone in this fantasy is over eighteen years of age. If I unwittingly upset Muslim sensibilities in any way, I should point out that I am not a Christian, or anything else!

It is a work of pure fantasy, and continues the story beginning with part 1.

When, alter my first appearance in public, I got back to Madrid, I felt quite well rested. Sam had shown me New York, but I was disappointed when he told me he was going to California to do a show, while I was recalled to our head office. I suppose I had naively thought we might stay together on a more-or-less permanent basis, but Alicia put me right on that score: 'Rafa doesn't like us to form liaisons,' she said, 'he says it's disruptive.'

On my first full day back, Rafael called me into his office. He regarded me solemnly with his brown eyes, and again, as ever, mesmerised me with his deep, cultured voice, which always had the effect of making my pussy involuntarily moisten.

'I understand you did well in New York, my dear,' he said, and I didn't know if I was meant to reply or not, so kept quiet.

'I have two shows coming up for you in the next month, if you are still happy to do them,' he went on, and looked at me questioningly.

I nodded quietly, and he looked relieved, then said, 'If you are happy to carry on, then I shall be very happy. Perhaps you will join me for dinner tonight?'

I was only too pleased to be asked, and agreed, of course, but then he said, 'Do something now, would you, my dear?'

'Yes, of course,' I said.

He stood, and said, 'Kneel here, on the floor, please.' I did as he told me.

'Now take off your blouse.'

I unbuttoned my silk blouse, and slipped it off my shoulders. He walked around me, cupping a breast briefly with one hand and giving the briefest of touches to a hardening nipple, sending rivets of pleasure into my very centre.

I knew what was coming, even though it had been unexpected up until that moment, as soon as he took up the switch he kept on his desk, a short, thin cane with a leather grip. Without ceremony, he lashed me with all his strength, hard across the tender flesh of my back, just below my shoulder blades.

'Oh,' I cried, softly, and waited for the next awful stinging stroke, which came almost instantly, just below the site of the first one. The pain was fierce, and I writhed under its influence as he took aim again, and forced me to cry out with the agony, which was now merging, as it always did, with a new sensation, an ecstasy and luscious desire that welled up and brought juices oozing into my cunt. Five near-unbearable strokes he gave me, then threw the switch down on the desk, as I looked into his eyes beseechingly.

'I know, my dear,' he said, 'come here!' 

He sat back down in his chair and made me bend over his desk in front of him, first inspecting the red wheals his handiwork had left, then he pushed my legs apart, and thrust his hand into my sopping crack.

'My, you are wet, Vanessa,' he said, and it took him no time at all to finger-fuck me to a raging orgasm, which had been 'waiting in the wings.' 

'Now,' he said, 'go rest, but when you dress for dinner, put on a backless gown, please. Be ready at nine.'

In the event, I chose a long grey silk halter-neck gown, with a loose bodice, which grazed my nipples, causing them to stick out against thee thin material, and my breasts jiggled prettily when I moved. The skirt was tight around my ankles which was another sensation I liked, combining well with my ultra-high heels, I thought. When I looked over my back into the mirror, the stripes left by the afternoon's whipping were all-too obvious, but I needed a mink stole to keep off the cool Madrid night air anyway, so nobody would notice before they were supposed to.

We arrived at the restaurant, and were duly greeted by Serafím, the Head Waiter, who showed us to a secluded corner table set for four. I looked a question at Rafael, who smiled benignly down at me as we took our places.

'We are to be joined by a young couple, my dear,' he said, 'and I think you should be able to help me with them.'

'Ah,' I caught on, 'so now I'm procuring, eh?'

He smiled condescendingly and his hand was transmitting electricity to my thigh under the table, 'You remember being recruited? Here in this restaurant?' And in your little hotel?'

'Will I ever forget? You have changed my life.'

And, before I could dwell upon just how much, the lugubrious Serafím was shepherding a young couple, obviously English, in our direction. The guy, who led the way, was tall and blond, with an athletic build and clean-cut, college-boy appearance. In the fine restaurant, he looked incongruous in jeans and a U-2 tee-shirt. In tow was a girl who might have had one Indian parent. She was of medium height, a little shorter than myself, willowy and slim, with olive skin-tone, huge dark eyes, a long aristocratic nose, and a long mane of silky black hair, which she wore loose, falling to her waist. She was clad in flared cream trousers and a cropped brown jumper, revealing that her pierced navel sported a silver pendant with some sort of stone in it. She had large silver hoops depending from her ears, and her wrists jangled with silver bracelets.

Rafael introduced them to me as Jason and Sylvia, and we took our places for the meal, during which little was said, other than small-talk. In truth, the meal was far too good. There is nowhere better in the world for seafood than Madrid, and the oysters, followed by bogavante, were unbeatable. I could see our English guests thinking they had died and gone to Heaven as the meal progressed. Jason's eyes, however, seldom strayed from my nipples while he fumbled with the cumbersome seafood.

But there was a certain tension, one of anticipated business, in the air, and Rafael snapped his fingers at Serafím when we had finished our sweets, and we were shown into a private lounge, and brought coffee things on a huge tray.

Rafael cleared his throat and addressed me: 'Vanessa, can I just explain to you now that I met these two young people yesterday, and invited them tonight? They were brought here from their hotel by my man. I think we might interest them in joining us.'

Then he turned to the young couple, 'I have brought Vanessa along with me because, like yourselves, she is English, and she has worked for me for some time now. She recently did very successful work for me in the USA. You will have noticed her style of dress.' He looked directly at Jason at this point, and the young guy made a face which was worth a thousand words.

Sylvia was also paying rapt attention to Rafael now, and waiting for what he was about to say. They both sensed that 'there was no such thing as a free meal' and that some sort of offer was about to be made.

Rafael launched into it: 'I don't want you to think that I go around just picking up anybody off the street,' he said, 'and maybe you will not be interested when you have a rough idea what this is about. I take a chance on young people, based on what I observe, how they look and dress, things like that. I am seldom wrong, but I have occasionally made mistakes. Let me first of all say that this is a chance to make a great deal of money. Then let me say that this is only the case if you are able and willing to accept and enjoy a lifestyle which few people have even considered, for several years.'

He paused to let that sink in, and saw that he had their undivided attention. He continued, 'I run an unusual business from the Casa Fontana, and before I tell you about it, I need an assurance of your discretion.' He paused and looked from one to the other of them, then, seeing no reason not to, he launched into a long description of the BDSM reality shows, and the worldwide nature of his business.

To conclude, he said, 'I rely heavily upon the fact that I do not use actors and actresses in my shows – hence the term "reality" – please stand up now, my dear Vanessa!'

I got to my feet, and dropped the stole I had wrapped about me for the short journey from the dining room. I did a little twirl in front of the young couple, so that they could see the angry red stripes which newly adorned my back. Then I reached down and took Rafael's extended hand, bent down, and kissed it lingeringly.

A silence descended on the room, and I sat down again, looking at Jason, whose eyes had followed my every movement. He looked as if he was about to say something, but then looked sideways at his partner, who broke the silence.

'I'm in,' said Sylvia, 'you found us looking in the window of a BDSM bookshop, so you know we are interested, right?'

'It's one thing being interested, and quite another being committed,' said Rafael, 'look, take the night to make up your minds. If you haven't phoned me by eleven tomorrow morning, a car will collect you from your hotel at twelve, and you will begin a month's paid trial with us, OK?'

In the car on our way home, I said to Rafael, 'You old fraud, you found them looking at BDSM books – and I thought it was intuition!'

I saw that he was smirking in the glow of the streetlights.

Next day, no call came, so that the chauffeur, Javier, was sent in the Chrysler Voyager to collect Jason and Sylvia from their hotel. Rafael had already telephoned the hotel and arranged to pay their modest bill.

When they arrived at Casa Fontana, their eyes were wide with wonderment as they took in the luxurious surroundings, and Alicia, stunning in her trademark Grecian-type flowing white dress, took Jason by the arm and led him off to his room, while I took charge of Sylvia, showing her to hers. I explained that they were to be separated during most of their training, as couples, as such, were not encouraged in the organisation. She made no protest at this, seeming more excited at the prospect of wearing all the beautiful clothes I showed her. 

When I had let her have a good look at the room and all the clothes and accessories she would be permitted to wear, I sat her down and took her through the rules she would have to abide by during her period of training. She found some of the rules hard to understand, as we all had at first, and was almost inclined to protest when I rang for one of the maids to take away her suitcase, with all her clothes and personal make-up kit, etc., and put it into storage. I had her strip, and was quite pleased with her lithe, half-Asian body, but told her that we should have to remove all her body-hair.

After she had showered, I made her sit on a plastic stool in the bathroom, and told her to open her legs, while I knelt between them on a bathmat. I lathered her already fairly sparse pubic hair thoroughly, then started to take it off with gentle strokes of a new razor. I carefully worked my way around her neat, dark labia, taking off every vestige of hair, and pulling her forward on the seat, removed even the fluffy scraps of hair that grew just around what looked to be a completely virgin arsehole. 

My curiosity piqued, I licked a finger and suddenly introduced it into the tiny, puckered entrance of her anus, and watched her face as I did so. Her eyes widened, and her pretty mouth opened in an 'O' as my questing finger probed at her nether hole, then she closed her eyes, and I withdrew my finger, running it up through her now-bare crack, which was moist with her juices.

'No woman has ever touched me before,' she said.

'You liked it though,' I replied.

'I don't know – I'm just.......just excited,' she said, 'it's all so different.'

I had her dress in a dark blue silk miniskirt and white silk blouse, almost transparent, so that the darkness of her nipples was clearly visible through it. Then I showed her the shoe selection, and she was obliged to wear high stilettos. She chose strappy black sandals, laced up her ankles, similar to the ones I was wearing. It was a warm late morning outside, and I suggested we go for a walk, just the two of us.

'Like this?' she said, aghast at the idea of going out without underwear in such flimsy clothing. Then she realised that I wore only a cotton ra-ra skirt and cropped top, under which I was similarly naked, and she smiled and, tossing her lovely mane of black hair, linked arms with me as we walked out.

'You know,' she said, as we walked through the streets to our local shops, 'it's a lovely feeling, the fresh air on your naked pussy, isn't it?'

Back at the Casa Fontana, we lunched together, with Alicia and Jason, and whilst we were taking coffee, Rafael came over to speak with us.

'Are these two settled in, then?' he asked.

I replied that Sylvia was settling in very well and would soon be ready to start training, but Alicia wanted a private word with Rafael, and they went off and stood by the bar, whispering quietly, whilst the three of us engaged in awkward small talk.

After a while, Rafael burst out laughing, then the two of them returned to us, and Rafael addressed the two newcomers: 'Welcome to the Fontana, both of you. Now it is time for your training to begin. As you have been told, you will mostly be separated for this. Now go to your respective rooms. Maids will come and prepare you shortly.'

When he had gone, leaving me alone with Alicia, I turned to my colleague, 'And what was that all about, may I ask?'

'You don't want to know.'

'Yes I do!'

'OK then, seeing as you insist. I was telling the boss that our new friend has a rather small cock.'

'No! – really?'

'Yes, really, but he knows how to use it.'

'You soon found that out!'

'Come on, darling, I had him for over an hour. Anyway, Rafael thinks he'll be kind to our arseholes.'

I wasn't so sure, having so recently had my anus invaded by Sam's mighty tool in New York, and Alicia knew what was passing through my mind. We ended up in a fit of giggling, which only ended when one of the uniformed maids led Jason back in, this time dressed in one of our ritual outfits, a monastic cowelled robe. Tucked into the tasselled cord at his waist was a spectacular bull-whip I felt sure he would never be able to wield. I told him to stay there a moment until Sylvia arrived, and we hadn't long to wait before another maid, a little Chinese one I rather fancied sleeping with, ushered in the nervous-looking newcomer, dressed in a long, sheer white nightgown, through which every detail of her slender body could be seen. Her ankles were joined by a short length of heavy steel chain, which clanked as she walked, and her hair was tied up in a knot on top of her head. She was devoid of any jewellery and was barefoot. 

Alicia and I led them in a procession through to our small theatre, where a stage was always prepared for the type of scene we were to enact, equipped with two big wooden St Andrew's crosses, each with ring-bolts set into their extremities. There were also two big, low couches. On a table was an array of whips and paddles, floggers and canes, of all kinds, and a sufficiency of handcuffs.

Quickly I stripped off the nightgown, then cuffed Sylvia's wrists and ankles, and fastened her to one of the crosses, facing it. She was spread-eagled defencelessly, looking around at me imploringly, though whether asking for mercy, or to be punished, I couldn't say.

Jason stepped up eagerly, but Alicia restrained him, and quietly unclipped the clasps at her shoulders, letting her gown fall in a whisper of silk, in a pool at her stiletto-clad feet.

'You can whip me,' she said, reaching into Jason's robe, to where he was growing an erection which seemed to belie what she had said about his size.

Alicia nodded to me, and I obeyed, cuffing her to the other cross. She knew I should whip Sylvia more professionally than Jason, and wanted to taunt him, anyway, I thought.

Before taking the whip to Sylvia, I decided to verify Alicia's opinion of Jason, and, as he was stood next to me, he didn't object when I opened his robe and slid it off his broad shoulders. He had a truly magnificent body, with the muscle definition of a true athlete, but it was true that his weapon was of modest proportions, to say the least, even allowing for a rampant erection I felt sure I could have swung on. I gave it a sympathetic stroke, and he looked away quickly, no doubt aware of what I was thinking.

As if in reprisal, he picked up the whip, which had fallen to the floor, and tried his hand at wielding it. I watched as he clumsily wasted a lot of effort and lost most of the speed of the stroke before the lash came into contact with Alicia's white flank, causing her neither pain nor any sort of mark.

'Watch!' I said, and picked up a much smaller dog whip from the table, took a brief exploratory swish, and then a 'crack,' echoed through the empty theatre as the cruel lash stung Sylvia's delicate olive upper back, leaving a fine red line right across from side to side.

'Oh,' she cried, and looked back over her shoulder at me with tears in her eyes as I prepared to repeat the stroke. The expression on her lovely face was something I found hard to read, but before I struck her again, I moved to her side and pushed her silky hair out of her eyes. Now there was only Sylvia and me in the world. I had blotted out Jason, and Alicia – they could do what they liked, all of a sudden – this was something only a dominitrix and her slave could begin to understand. She framed her lips, and now I understood. She wanted me to kiss her, and I did so, deeply, our tongues entwining, searching, then I pulled away, stood back and lashed her with all my force, lower down this time, drawing a deep, animal moan from her, and causing her to writhe in her bonds. 

Jason, watching, said, simply, 'Oh, wow,' and turned to Alicia to try again. This time, I saw out of the corner of my eye, he had a little more success, making a just-visible stripe across her buttocks.

'Jason,' I called, 'throw that fucking great thing away, and use the crop, from the table!'

He did as I told him, and immediately started to make a pretty pattern of red wheals across Alicia's back.

I meanwhile decided that I would give my charge no more than six good lashes of the brutal whip – enough for a first time, an finished her off with an extra fierce one to the top of her buttocks, which drew tiny droplets of blood along the line of the welt.

I undid her cuffs, noting that Jason had already released Alicia, and she fell into my arms. 

I led Sylvia gently up the rear passageway to my bedroom, and laid her face down on my bed, telling her not to move while I fetched some oils. I soothed her wounds gently, and her doe-like eyes regarded me again with some sort of adoration. 

'Oh, Vanessa,' she said, 'Make love to me. I'm so wet – I came when you whipped me, but I need your body next to mine.

I stripped off my skirt and top and joined her on the bed, moving her gingerly onto her side so as not to hurt her any more. She accommodatingly lifted her leg so that I could feel the wetness she had alluded to – and she was indeed sopping wet. I manoeuvred into a '69' position and pulled her puffy labia apart to insert my tongue into the depths of her sweet-smelling, soaking cunt. Her fuckhole was a hot, lustful cavern, which seemed to suck me into its very innermost recesses as I plunged my tongue way inside heer, and I felt her responding in kind as I opened myself to her, her tongue thrusting, rapier-like into my own rapidly moistening vagina. 

We fingered each others' clits simultaneously as we tongued, and I felt the familiar surge of a welling orgasm taking over my body, as Sylvia cried out that she too was about to cum.

After we had lain together for a time, we dressed and I went in search of Alicia. I found her in the coffee bar.

'Well?' I asked.

'Well what?' she said, cagily.

'Oh, come on,' I laughed.

'OK,' she said, 'they say size isn't everything, and he's a stayer, I'll say that.'




Vanessa's Vocation Ch. 02



I asked her if she knew anything about the shows we were to do, and she told me we were due to fly to Saudi Arabia the following week.

'Saudi Arabia!' I exclaimed, 'fuck! We'll be lucky to get out alive!'

'I've been before,' she said, 'and so has Nikolai.'

'Is it just the three of us?' I asked.

'No, there's an Arab guy called Asif, who always works with us in the Middle East – he'll meet us there.'

Time passed quickly until it was our turn to fly out to Riyadh. I spent a wonderful night with Rafael. He gave me ten strokes with his favourite cane, then fucked me brutally in the arse, before enfolding me in his arms and taking me slowly and languorously twice more. I told him I would go to the ends of the earth for him.

The day dawned, and we had to dress decorously to pass the Saudi immigration authorities, but we were soon through customs, and whisked away in a huge Mercedes, to be deposited at the entrance of a luxurious apartment block. Once inside our equally luxurious apartment, we breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief, and exchanged our sombre clothes for little sundresses and – in Nikolai's case – Bermudas and a tee-shirt. Looking out of the window at the passing crowds, the women all covered from head to foot in shapeless robes, Alicia said, 'How does anyone live in this bloody awful country?' I shook my head in disbelief, and wondered how Rafael had managed to set up a show in a place like this. Just then we were startled by a knock on the door.

'Fuck,' said Alicia, only half joking, 'it's probably the religious police – they're onto us!'

I looked through the peep-hole and saw a smiling young face, who didn't resemble a policeman at all, so I opened the door.

'Hi,' he said, with a distinctly American accent, 'I'm Asif, and I'm to work with you guys tomorrow night.' He was a nice-looking, wiry guy, dressed in western casual style, in a button-down blue shirt and cream chinos, and had big brown, flashing eyes.

As he had done shows here before, we asked him about them, and he told us about their format, saying that there would be some 'audience participation' – which I wasn't sure I liked the idea of. He had risked all sorts of dire punishment bringing alcoholic drink with him in a shoulder-bag, and now produced a bottle of Chardonnay, for which we were all grateful, and we sat down to enjoy it before Asif took his leave and left us to watch some of the ample supply of videos we found in the flat.

Next day we hung around the apartment, cooking ourselves food from the good variety of stuff we found in the fridge and cupboards, and were relaxing when, at about seven o'clock, Asif again showed up, this time accompanied by two burly guys wheeling trunks containing the gear we were to wear.

When the porters were gone, we inspected the goods. There was full Arab dress in the form of dish-dash, shumagg and ogal for Nikolai, which we all thought would clash horribly with his blond Nordic looks. Asif, we knew, would have his own. For we girls, there were long transparent white gowns, and long black velvet cloaks to cover us from head to foot whilst we were being transported to the venue. There were also the obligatory stilettos, two sets of ankle chains, and handcuffs, which Asif told us were not to be put on until we arrived 'at the palace.' (It was the first time anybody had told me we were going to a palace.)

Then I found a big box containing what I assumed to be gold-plated jewellery. 'It's solid gold,' Asif told us, as we ran it all through our fingers, 'and if the Sheik is pleased with you, you may keep it!'

Arabs love their women adorned with gold. We discovered a heavy waist-chain each, anklets, bangles, a heavy choker each, long pendant ear-rings, and nipple-clamps, connected by the finest of chains. Alicia, who had a pierced clitoris-hood, decided to use one of the anklets to connect the ring there to her waist-chain, and tried it for length, with Asif's eager assistance.

'Hey,' she said, 'don't go getting horny just yet – you might need it for the show.' 

When the time came for the show, we were ready and waiting. Nikolai looked surprisingly authentic in his dish-dash, a dagger stuck in his belt, swaggering around the apartment, doing Lawrence of Arabia impressions. Alicia and I had helped each other put our hair up – long hair often gets in the way of a whipping, as we knew from experience, and we were both nervously anticipating what we had in store. I couldn't resist looking at my image in the long mirror in the bedroom several times. I thought I looked very sexy in the transparent white gown, at which my hard, rouge-darkened nipples thrust sharply. Just before we left, I would get Nikolai to put the nipple-clamps in place. Below, the heavy links of the gold chain accentuated my slim waist, pare links hanging down and teasing my hairless mound. If I pulled back thee folds of the gown slightly, the start of my pink slit could be seen. My feet were encased in ultra-high stilettos, and gold anklets enhanced my slender ankles. When I returned to the saloon, I saw that Alicia was also checking herself in the mirror, and she looked ravishing, the lewd chain disappearing into her crack clearly visible through her gown, as was the ring hanging from her right nipple.

The doorbell rang, and Alicia called, 'Wait, please!' while I summoned Nikolai and, easing the gown off my shoulders, had him screw the little gold clamps into place. The familiar pain was instant, and excruciating, accompanied, as ever, by a spreading, warm wetness in my cunt, that always made me gasp.

'Good start, Nikolai!' I said, 'Now for fuck's sake cover me up, or we'll never get there!'

His English had improved, and, grinning, he let me slide my gown back onto my shoulders, and fetched my velvet robe for me to slip on. I fancied Alicia was being simultaneously 'warmed up' by Asif, just around the corner, in the lounge, and now she picked up the entry-phone again, and told the driver we were ready.

We emerged to a fragrant, starry night, and were shepherded into a waiting Mercedes Vito, which immediately pulled away from the kerb, and we were whisked off through the traffic to an area close to Riyadh's new zoo. Here we pulled up outside an imposing marble-faced mansion, which looked like a cross between the White House and the Taj Mahal. Two little black guys showed us to a luxuriously-appointed dressing-room, and left. 

Here Asif addressed us: 'You know that there's some audience participation – best you don't know anything else – it'll all be a nice surprise!' he had a mischievous grin on his face as he said it. 'What I will tell you is that it'll be my pleasure to have you, Vanessa, and Nikolai will do the honours with Alicia, at the end, to get them all applauding. I tell you this, in case you can't see who it is.' On this mysterious note, he changed the subject, and helped us shackle our ankles, with the heavy chains, and cuff our wrists. He now pronounced us ready, and, at a signal from some hidden source, we set off to troop into the auditorium. 

It was quite large, and circular, with a circular stage right in the centre, to which we were led, down an aisle, the two men first, in their Arab dress, we shuffling along behind, dragging our chains, our wrists cuffed behind us. The place seemed packed, with men all in identical Arab dress, all sitting there in silence as we made our way on to the stage. 

On the stage were two sets of what appeared to be medieval stocks, side-by-side, and we were made to stand beside them while our 'captors' unfastened our handcuffs and ankle restraints and stripped us of our flimsy gowns, so that we stood naked but for the shimmering gold jewellery. For the first time, the audience murmured in what sounded like appreciation. Asif then manhandled me into the stocks, and I saw that Nikolai was doing the same thing to Alicia, placing my wrists into the holes provided, and my head through theist orifice. Behind these holes was a padded bench, so that my stomach rested on this and I was in a kneeling position, but I found my legs forced apart about two feet, my ankles pushed into stirrups, and restrained there by straps. The position, though not uncomfortable, left my naked pussy open and vulnerable from behind, and, worst of all, I could see nothing behind me at all. Asif stood back now, and the stage began slowly to revolve. The whole audience would have a view of us from every angle!

When Asif walked around in front of me again, he was carrying a riding crop. I could have kissed him, had I been able to. Of all the instruments, with the exception of Rafael's private cane, the kiss of the crop, with its excruciating sting, was the one I loved the most, and I had already fantasised about this beautiful man lashing me mercilessly with one. Almost casually, he walked around behind me, and I heard the familiar 'swish' as the crop flew through the air, then descended on my waiting back. I writhed in my bonds, for the audience's benefit, and gasped a little, as I knew it was expected of me, and he whipped me harder, twice more, before pausing, and walking around me theatrically, co-ordinating this with Nikolai, who had rained a similar number of strokes on Alicia.

Asif said something in Arabic, and a boy of about eighteen flitted across my vision, carrying a bucket. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Asif extract a raffle ticket from the bucket. Just what were they raffling off? He called out a number, and.a shout came up from the audience. Then Nikolai picked out a ticket and showed it to Asif, who called out another number. Another yell rent the air. And so on until twelve numbers had been picked.

Asif now stood in front of me as the stage continued to revolve, and gave a little talk, then called out two numbers. Two Arabs came up on to the stage, clumsily negotiating the moving step in their robes, and Nikolai and Asif yielded their riding crops to the first respective lucky winners. They did this, deliberately, I thought, where Alicia and I could see them.

Two relatively young Arabs tested the leather crops, walking about as they swung them through the air, then walked behind us, out of my line of sight. Suddenly, accustomed as I was to the delicious sting of the crop, I was surprised when I felt its sharp pain strike me where I hadn't expected it, at the back of my thighs. I wriggled my arse, knowing this would inflame thee audience, as I heard the sharp crack of a blow on Alicia's flesh, wringing a little 'Oh' from her. Another be-robed Arab took the place of the first, and I soon felt again the kiss of his lash, this time across my buttocks, well used to being whipped by now. I knew, as my whipping progressed, that I should have a pattern of fiery red wheals across my white flesh, and the audience was becoming noticeably more animated with each stroke. As the last one fell on me, and Asif retrieved the crop, he came up behind me, and I felt his hand probe the wet warmth of my eager cunt, stroking me closer to thee orgasm which was waiting to engulf me, since the very first stroke of the crop – or even before it. He spoke at length to the audience in Arabic, and I thought – is he never going to fuck me? Then a boy who couldn't have been more than fifteen came up on to the stage with another bucket, from which first Asif, then Nikolai, drew a ticket.

Asif read out the number on his, and a whoop went up from a corner I couldn't see. Nikolai gave Asif his ticket to read out – another yell greeted the announcement. Two Arabs came up onto the stage, one, a big, bearded guy of about fifty, stopping just in front of me, his waist level with my head. The boy fetched a stool for him to stand on, and slid it down in front of me, helping the burly man up onto it, amid cheers from the audience. Then the boy hoisted the Arab's pristine white dish-dash up to his waist, revealing a thick, erect cock. He had won a lottery to be given a blow-job. By me! Before I could even begin to think about protesting, he had seized my hair by the handful, and jammed his shaft roughly between my lips. Not being able to help with my hands was an experience totally alien to me. Simultaneously, I felt Asif easing his body between my legs, and his rod was slipping into the very depths of my cunt with amazing ease. I came almost immediately, the result of my whipping more than anything, just waiting to be released in a mighty orgasm. It surely showed as I closed my eyes, and my whole body shuddered in the tightness of my bonds.

Then I opened myself to the Arab's cock in my mouth, and I had the wonderful sensation of being invaded by two huge pricks at once, as he thrust himself right into my throat, and I sucked him as hard as I could, knowing instinctively that he couldn't last long. 

Asif was another thing altogether. Far from being satisfied with bringing me to my first climax, he pulled out, and I felt him start to thrust his huge organ into my offered arsehole, its tightness irresistible to him. I groaned as he invaded my sphincter, the agony of impalement far worse than the whipping I had endured only minutes before. But then he had driven his whole length way into me, and my agony spurred the Arab whose cock was in my mouth to frantic strokes. He pulsed in and out in short jabs, and then spurted, jetting huge gobs of hot spunk straight down my throat, so that I could hardly breathe. And I needed all the breath I could summon to cope with Asif's pounding of my tender anus, as he swiftly brought me to another mounting orgasm, matched, I was dimly aware, by my friend Alicia, whose scream rent the air as Nikolai sodomised her too, his massive young weapon spearing her lovely dark arsehole. It wasn't long before Asif could keep it up no longer, and withdrew, then shot his load of creamy spunk all over my wounded back, rubbing it soothingly into my wheals with a tender touch.

The stage topped revolving, the 'prizewinners' were led off-stage, and loud and long applause filled the auditorium, before a curtain descended all around the stage, and Arab music played. The show was over, we were released from our stocks, and slipped back into our gowns.

After the audience had gone, we were escorted back to the dressing-room, then we were whisked back to our apartment as efficiently as we had arrived.

'I feel fucked,' I announced, to nobody in particular, when I found it very uncomfortable to sit down.

'I think that probably says it,' agreed Alicia, from the kitchen, where she was making coffee, and just then, there was a jangle from the doorbell.

'Who is it?' demanded Asif, down the entryphone, and a discussion in Arabic followed, before he buzzed someone up. It was a well-dressed youth, who presented Asif with an envelope. He handed it to me, and I opened it nervously. Gold-embossed paper was enclosed, with an impressive letter-heading, and I read the letter:-

Dear Vanessa,

You will no doubt be surprised to receive a letter. I ask you to read it carefully, and consider my proposal, which could be mutually beneficial, and of considerable assistance to others, as you will see. 

I have spoken with Señor de la Fuente, whom I regard as a personal friend, and, subject to your agreement, we have arrived at an arrangement.

I have recently had problems with two of the girls in my harem, who have let me down badly, in ways I prefer not to detail. Suffice it to say that, under Islamic law, I should have them put to death, either by stoning, or beheading. But I am a lenient man, and have offered the following solution:-

I propose to give the two girls to Señor de la Fuente, in return for a month of your services in my palace. I had heard of your reputation after your show in New York, and only awaited the chance to see you at first hand before speaking to my friend about you.

If this arrangement is suitable to you, you will receive twice your usual annual fee upon your return to Madrid, plus a new vehicle of your choice.

I should appreciate your reply by return

Yours sincerely

Sheikh Ben Ibn Gul-Mahmoud

'Fuck!' I said, when I had read the letter, and showed it to Alicia and Asif, who looked from the letter to me and back again disbelievingly.

'Sounds too good to miss,' commented Alicia.

'I don't know,' I said, 'I might not come out of it alive!'

'Ring Rafael,' suggested Asif, and I thought that sounded like a sound idea. Asking the courier to sit down and have a coffee, I picked up the phone and soon got through to Rafael, who seemed unsurprised that I had called him, and chuckled when I asked him about the Sheikh.

'He's an old desert goat,' he said, 'but He's fairly harmless, very generous, and you'd be doing me a favour as well. I've seen photos of the two girls he wants to send me, and they're not half bad. Anyway, you wouldn't want them stoned to death, would you?'

That seemed to be an end of it, and the upshot was that I agreed, and scribbled a note to that effect to go back with the courier, then spent a restless night worrying that I had made a stupid decision. 

Next morning, I was to be picked up, wearing a full burkah at eleven, with instructions to bring nothing – everything I needed would be provided. At ten, the two girls, Leila and Yasmina, appeared, complete with their exit visas, wearing sombre western clothes – trouser-suits and flat shoes – but they couldn't disguise two pretty little things, with trim bodies and attractive oval faces. Leila had long black hair, whilst Yasmina's was cropped short. I knew Rafael would be able to do something with them.

When the Sheikh's driver came, punctually at eleven, I was shrouded in the requisite navy blue garment that Asif had fetched for me, covered completely save for a tiny slit for my eyes. Alicia delighted in making jokes about it, but when the time came for me to go, and the rest of them were almost ready to leave for the airport, with the two excited Arab girls, we had a tearful farewell – Alicia and I had become firm friends – occasional lovers too - and knew we should miss each other. I let the awful burkah settle back around me, then followed the driver down to the waiting Rolls Royce, and sank back into the leather upholstery.

It was quite a long way to the Sheikh's palace, and I couldn't have followed the route, even had I tried, but I just resigned myself to contemplating the next month and its tribulations. I had so much enjoyed the regime at Casa Fontana, that the thought of a change was unwelcome, but it was all so intriguing, and anyway, for Rafael de la Fuente, anything.............!

We arrived after about half an hour's sedate drive, and pulled up outside a vast pile of a place, all in blinding white marble, with immaculate lawns, palm-trees and fragrant shrubs, being sprinkled upon by sprays of doubtless precious water. I was unnecessarily helped out by the driver, and walked up two or three wide steps to a great pillared portico, where a double door was opened as we approached, and two young guys in some sort of quasi-military uniform stood aside to let us pass. Each carried an ugly-looking firearm. My heels clicked on the marble floor, making the only sound to break the utter silence as I was shown through a massive entrance hall, and out to the back, across a courtyard, and into another ornate pair of double doors, which were closed behind me, leaving me alone.

But I had scarcely time to look about me, before I heard two female voices chatting. Then they were with me, two girls of my own age, both olive-skinned Arab types, wearing, I was delighted to see, miniskirts and blouses. 

Their English was obviously limited, and one of them – I afterwards found out she was called Soraya – said 'This – take off!' and tugged at my horrid enveloping burkah. I was only too glad to oblige, and the girls giggled as if it were some private joke when they saw that I was dressed like they were underneath it, but they fell to admiring my shoes – I was wearing my usual very high stilettos, which they may well not have found easy to obtain. 




Vanessa's Vocation Ch. 02



Taking me by the hand, Soraya led me down a corridor, an into a nice lounge, where sofas were arranged around a low coffee table, while her friend, Hassiba, went off through another door. I sat down on the sofa, and Soraya fetched me a glass of orange juice.

Five minutes later, Hassiba was back, this time accompanied by a stunningly attractive older woman, who didn't look Arabic at all. She was a honey-blonde, with hair-colour much like my own, but there the resemblance ended. Forty-five at least, she wore it well, and bore the unmistakeable mark of aristocracy, dressed from head to toe by Versace, I guessed, in a sky blue shot-silk trouser-suit, with a grey blouse, and a rope of real pearls strung casually around her elegant neck.

She extended a manicured hand delicately in my direction, saying, 'Hello, you will be Vanessa. I am the Sheikh's first lady, Helena. You will address me as "Mistress" please – I believe that will be most appropriate.'

'Yes, Mistress,' I managed to say, more than a little surprised by this turn of events, as I struggled to my feet, out of the deep sofa. 

She waved imperiously about her and continued, 'This, as you may have surmised, is the harem of the Sheikh. It is my domain, and I have complete control over it, bequeathed to me by the Sheikh many years ago. I am, of course, aware of his letter to you, and the arrangement he has made with Señor de la Fuente. I may say, by the way, that his generosity regarding the two girls who have been sent to Spain does him great credit.'

She paused, letting that hang in the air between us, and studying my face for any sign of dissent. I tried to remain neutral.

'Ah well,' she went on, 'you are here now, and I see you are an outstandingly beautiful young woman. As you are here for only one month, there are some things you must know, and certain things that we must say and do immediately, so let us not waste time.' 

As she spoke, she was regarding me critically, walking slowly around me, and it was no surprise when she said next, 'Take your clothes off, please.'

I unbuttoned my blouse, slipped it off my shoulders, and then unfastened the waistband of my short skirt, letting it fall to the floor. I was naked except for my stilettos, and Helena continued her scrutiny, pausing to run a finger along one of the stripes which had been inflicted on my back the day before, causing me to wince slightly.

'Did you enjoy the whipping yesterday?' she asked.

'In a way,' I replied, 'but I prefer more intimate punishment, I think.'

'Hmmm,' she mused, 'I think we can accommodate you there, my dear.' I noted the 'we' and was starting to realise that this woman was going to play a part in my immediate future. But she was speaking to me again. 'Put your tongue out!' she said, and I obeyed.

'Right,' she said, decisively, and, taking me by the hand, led me, still naked, through a door into what appeared to be a luxurious bathroom. A young girl in a short black silk robe was testing the temperature of a bath in a huge triangular tub in one corner. I was helped out of my shoes and into the tub, where the water stung my wounds slightly at first, but was then infinitely soothing. I closed my eyes and allowed the girl to wash my whole body – something at which she was clearly very skilled. When I opened my eyes again, Helena was no longer in the room, and all efforts at conversation with the young girl were wasted, as she appeared not to understand anything at all.

She helped me out of the bath after a while, and dried me on a vast fluffy towel, then led me to a chair like that of an expensive hairdresser's salon. She pushed a buzzer, and the door opened almost immediately. Another, almost identical girl, perhaps a little bit older, entered. I studied the two of them, and thought they were probably Northern Indian in origin. Attractive, but not stunningly so, they were almost certainly sisters. I wondered idly if their role in the harem went beyond what they were doing just then.

I soon found, though, that their skills were considerable, and my hair was expertly trimmed, and special attention was paid to my nails. I had long prided myself on my cared-for nails, and kept my finger-nails very long. What one of the girls did was use a tiny drill to make a hole in the nail of my left little finger, and insert a fine chain about ten centimetres long, with a diamond set at the end. It would be an occasional nuisance, but quite charming, I thought. They then carefully painted my finger- and toe-nails bright scarlet.

They talked to each other in some language or other, then one of them went away and came back with a box, and what appeared to be a tray containing surgical instruments. I got worried at this point, but the girls were giggling, so I thought this wasn't perhaps too serious. But then one of them got me, by sign-language, to open my mouth. I thought at first, I was going to have my teeth cleaned, but one of the girls stood in front of me and mimed sticking her tongue out, and I remembered that Helena had taken a look at mine. I caught on. She wanted me to have a tongue-stud! Frankly, it was something I had considered having done anyway, but just never got around to – but having it forced upon me like this was a bit..........well, a bit undignified? I swallowed my pride, and stuck out my tongue, a bit apprehensive about how much it might hurt. It didn't. One of the girls sprayed my tongue with some sort of mild anaesthetic, then there was a quick 'click' from a sort of gun, a bit of fiddling about, and the other girl produced a mirror to show me the silver stud now residing in my tongue. It was going to feel very strange for a while. The two girls then turned their attention to my make-up, and took an age giving me what I thought was a very exotic facial appearance, with heavy eye-make-up. They subtly rouged my nipples and the lips of my sex, exciting me just a little in the process, and then had me stand up while they bedecked me with jewellery.

They clasped a diamond-encrusted white gold chain loosely around my waist, leaving the loose end trailing where it would brush against my mound as I walked. A broad silver choker which was clasped around my neck had a stout ring set into it, as had matching bracelets and anklets which they secured around my wrists and ankles. There was no doubt as to their purpose. Long, heavy silver ear-rings grazed my shoulders.

The girls talked to each other again, and one of them pressed a buzzer, then they motioned for me to go with them back out through the door through which I had entered. I climbed into my stilettos, and did so. This time they led me through the lounge I had been in before, and into another, smaller, lounge, where Helena was seated on a sofa, now dressed in a flowing gown of cream chiffon, having her feet massaged by Soraya.

'Ah, Vanessa,' she said, 'let me look at you!'

I did a little pirouette in front of her, and she smiled briefly, then said, 'And did you get your tongue done, dear?'

I poked it out to show her, and she nodded approvingly. 'The Sheikh does like such details, she said, 'and they can add to one's enjoyment, it is true.' Then, turning to Soraya, she said, 'Enough for now, dear, away you go!'

She got to her feet in a rustle of chiffon, and took my hand. 'The Sheikh wants to see you this afternoon. I'll have some food brought to you, then prepare you further.'

I was dismissed and the girls led me back to the bigger lounge, where I sat, still self-consciously naked, and waited until a tray of sandwiches and fruit was brought to me by yet another girl I hadn't seen before. I ate nervously, wondering what on earth 'further' preparation could consist of.

I hadn't long to wait, because one of the girls who had made me up came and led me back to Helena's lounge, where I stood anxiously before her. She immediately got to her feet, and went over to a bureau, coming back with a bag.

'Take your shoes off!' she ordered, and when I had done so, she clipped a length of heavy chrome chain to the rings in my anklets, shackling me so that a length of the chain would drag behind me as I walked. Then she did the same for my wrists, but left them in front of me.

'Just one more item,' she said, and produced something I was familiar with – a set of ornate silver nipple-clamps. She pulled at one nipple with her thumb and forefinger, and felt its instant, hardening response, then clamped the little clip down screwing it down hard, until I gasped. She repeated the dose with my other nipple, and gave a trial tug at the connecting chain. She couldn't resist feeling my slit after she had subjected me to this treatment – I think she knew from just looking at my eyes that it was having an effect on me – but she made no comment, just withdrew her long, manicured fingers, and put them to my mouth, so that I could extend my newly-pierced tongue, the numbness having been replaced by slight soreness – and lick it gently.

It seemed appropriate to say something, so I merely said, 'Thank you, Mistress.'

She looked pleased, and pronounced me ready to meet the Sheikh, telling me never to look him in the face, and to address him as 'Sir.'

Helena led me along a dark corridor with a tiled floor, walking slowly so that I could keep up with my shackled legs, then we emerged into a sunlit courtyard, with fountains and palms to give shade. Soraya walked a few paces behind us, clad in a transparent, crotchless pant-suit. On a low couch at the far end, with a huge bowl of fruit, looking, apart from his dress, like a Roman Emperor, reclined the Sheikh himself. He must have been in his late fifties, handsomely bearded, with a lined, weathered face, he had a voice to match, but surprised me by greeting me in BBC English. 

'So we meet,' he said, 'though I have seen you before, I may say, in New York, which is why you are here.'

I must have looked surprised, but he went on, 'Helena and I have agreed that you will amuse us – separately, I think, perhaps – for one main reason. We have had many girls who endure pain, but seldom one who enjoys it. I think you do, is that not so?'

I answered cautiously, 'Why, yes, sir, I do like to be whipped anyway.'

He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound. 'I note your prudence, girl. Have no fear, you shall come to no lasting harm.'

He turned to Helena, 'You can leave us now, woman!' 

She turned on her heel imperiously and went, and he watched her go before turning to me once again, and looking me up and down.

'Come closer,' he said, quietly, and I stepped up until I was within touching distance, but he didn't reach out and touch me at that point. Instead, he called the silent Soraya, who glided over and stood beside me. He said something to her in Arabic, and she proceeded 

to release me from the chains at my ankles and wrists.

'Thank you, sir,' I said.

For reply, he simply said, 'Open your legs a little wider, my dear, and show me your cunt.' 

I moved my feet slightly further apart, and, reaching down with my right hand, parted my vaginal lips, so that he could see my glistening pink cunt.

'Masturbate for me!' he ordered, and I slipped two fingers of my left hand into the warm wetness of my fuckhole. I was conscious of the chain hanging from the nail of my pinkie as I alternately plunged in my fingers and flicked at my hardening clitoris, all the while trying to make sure that the Sheikh could see my rapidly moistening cunt.

He now had his dish-dash up around his waist, and he was naked underneath, revealing a long, slightly curved tool. Soraya knew her place, and dropped to her knees to take it in her luscious lips. The sight spurred me, and I felt an orgasm building within me, an orgasm that had to do with being 'prepared' by the girls, my exotic jewellery, thoughts about Mistress Helena, and now the Sheikh – an amalgam of all those things. I came, suddenly, explosively, as the Sheikh spurted with a great sigh, flooding his young slave's mouth and face with his creamy spunk. I dropped involuntarily to my knees beside him, and he pushed me towards Soraya, so that I was made to kiss her and share his cum, which was still all over her cheeks and mouth. When he saw me do so, he grunted with pleasure, and hugged us both to him for a while.

'Go now, girls, and rest,' he said, 'your mistress may wish to use you both this evening – otherwise you are free to do as you wish.'

Soraya led me away down a corridor to what I was to find out were our own quarters, in the harem, and we were at liberty, as the Sheikh said, to do as we wished. I took to the swimming pool, then explored the extensive library, which boasted quite a good collection of books in English.

I was shown my room by Soraya, and found a few clothes in the wardrobe, but just slipped into a satin robe to go to the dining room with my new friend for dinner. With the notable absence of alcohol, dinner was a pleasant enough meal, with spiced lamb and plenty of fruit to follow. I found Soraya good company, even though our communications were very limited. We soon found the means to make each other understood, and ended up laughing quite a lot. I told her I liked her trouser-suit, and she said I would find a similar one in my wardrobe, and that I should wear it after dinner, as the Mistress was fond of it.

Sure enough, when I went through the clothes in my wardrobe, I found the transparent garment, which was actually a cat-suit, made of filmy organdie, with long sleeves and a high neck, tied at wrists and ankles, and with a frilled aperture at the crotch, which was only really evident when I opened my legs or walked. I put it on, and completed my ensemble with my full regalia of jewellery and four inch stilettos. Looking in the mirror, I could just make out the fading marks of my recent whipping, and thought I looked good. I went down to the large lounge, where Soraya was waiting, dressed in a little black cocktail dress, so short that her pussy was barely covered by the hem.

Whilst she was admiring my appearance, as if on cue, the door opened, and in swept Helena, dressed in a backless black velvet gown of unmistakeable class. As she sat on the sofa, I thought, to my intense surprise, that I detected just the hint of the remains of stripes on her elegant back – so she, too, was punished from time to time, perhaps?

She walked up to me and took both of my hands in hers. 'Kiss me, dear,' she said, and I opened my mouth just slightly so that when out lips met she could insert her rapacious tongue between my teeth, seeking out my new, still sore and unfamiliar stud. The feel of her tongue flicking at it was a new erotic sensation, leading me to think of its many possibilities, and her hand now snaked into my sex, finding my clit unerringly, knowingly. She pulled back slightly, almost purring as she spun me around to unzip my catsuit, then her hands were all over me as she eased the garment off me, down over my hips, tangling it briefly with the heavy silver chain at my waist. When she had me naked, she told me to kneel on the tiled floor, and signalled to Soraya to come and hold my hands above my head.

'This is something which you may find new, Vanessa,' she said, almost panting, as she said it, and drew a long cane from behind the sofa. 'You shall receive only one stroke per night from me. What the Sheikh does to you during the day is his business, but I shall give you just the one. It will hurt you a great deal, I think.'

Her manner was certainly enough to strike fear into me, and the sight of the long thin cane she had in her hand was sufficient to reinforce the terror that was building in me. 

I turned and looked at her, and she saw the fear in my eyes.

'You like pain, don't you?'

'Yes, Mistress, but.....'

'There are no buts,' she said, a twisted smile on her lips, and swished the terrible full length of the monstrous cane through the air – it hissed like a train coming out of a tunnel.

Without further warning, she brought the cane down across my tender back with a fierce 'thwack' and I screamed, and bucked and writhed, pulling my hands away from Soraya's grasp, and collapsing on the floor, from where Helena quickly pulled me roughly by my hair. She called out harshly to Soraya in Arabic, and the girl fetched an ornate mirror, which she held to one side of me so that I could look, through my tears, at the bright red welt she had raised on my tender skin. 

But Helena was now reclining on the sofa, her gown pulled up around her waist, her slender, bronzed legs parted, toying with the shaven lips of her sex. I was obviously meant to take up the invitation, and slid up between her legs accordingly, running my hands slowly up the insides of her smooth thighs, teasing her by stopping just short of her vaginal lips. I did this for a minute or two, then traced a path around the lips themselves, pausing at her clitoris-hood, which again I teased, just easing the flesh up and out of my way so that I could gain access to her little, growing nub of hardening tissue. By now she was growing impatient to have her wet cunt invaded, impaled, and I had what she wanted – my tongue. I thrust it suddenly deep into her cavernous dark cunthole, ignoring the soreness I was feeling from my new stud, and the acute discomfort my back was giving me. I was also suddenly aware that my own sex was being lapped by Soraya, who was now on her knees behind me, and had forced my legs apart, and found my pussy dripping wet and ready to be licked. A monstrous orgasm was welling within me, and, judging by the shuddering, clasping and unclasping of legs that was coming from Helena, her own orgasm was just as close. I sensed that heer clitoris was the key, and combined flicking it vigorously with my tongue-stud with plunging two fingers deep into her soaking cunt, as Soraya did wonderful things to my own, and we both came simultaneously.

'What about her?' I asked Helena, indicating the Arab girl.

'Oh, she'll be alright,' she said, 'I'll let her sleep with Hassiba tonight. Hassiba is with the Sheikh right now.' 

I slept late next morning, and one of the silent maids brought me coffee and croissants, together with the ubiquitous orange juice, in bed. I felt pampered, and decided on a swim before lunch when Soraya came and told me that the Sheikh would not require me until the afternoon. I lunched with her, our conversation stilted as usual, then a maid appeared as we were finishing the light meal, bearing an envelope. I opened it, to find a sheet of embossed paper, with Sheikh's beautiful script:-

Vanessa,

You will come into town with me this afternoon, in western dress. I wish to see how you look so attired. The girl will now assist you.

May Allah go with you

Ben Ibn 

Well, that's different, I thought, and went with the little maid up to my room. She had already been in there, and clothes were laid out on my bed ready for me.

It was quite a change to dress in western style. I put on, however, a blue satin half-bra under the cream silk blouse, so that my nipples would graze the soft silk – a feeling I liked – and cinched a matching suspender-belt around my waist, to which I clipped shiny stockings. No panties, of course. Then the suit, which was a beautifully-cut powder-blue business-suit, with a pleated skirt, the hem just above knee-length. I completed my sophisticated look with a pair of small pearl ear-rings and black patent stilettos. The nameless maid nodded happily at the result, and led me to the Sheikh's quarters, though, by now, I could have found my own way.

He greeted me at the door, and I had difficulty in observing the rule of not looking at him, when he remarked upon my own appearance. He was completely transformed, in a beige linen suit with a button-down blue shirt, Gucci tie and brown loafers. He looked ten years younger.




Vanessa's Vocation Ch. 03



It was the last evening of my stay at the Sheikh's palace, and I was approaching my departure with mixed emotions. I had my exit visa for departing Saudi Arabia's stringent regime in my handbag, and that was a reminder of the freedom that awaited me in Madrid, my adopted city, but I had become genuinely fond of Helena, the Sheikh's principal wife, and looked forward eagerly to my nightly call to her suite.

When she rang for me, I was prepared, had made a special effort to please her, dressing in a way I knew she liked. I had called Hassiba to lace me tightly into a white satin corset, which constricted my already slender waist still more, and pushed my partly-exposed breasts upwards so that my nipples pointed above the horizontal. I attached long white, lace-top stockings to the garter-straps, stepped into ultra-high needle-heeled silver sandals, then slipped into a glittering knee-length dress, high-necked, with long sleeves, but which was almost completely transparent. It fitted me like a glove, the skirt so tight that walking stretched it to the limit of its seams.

I fussed around for some time over jewellery, but settled on silver drop ear-rings, bracelets and an anklet, then set off down the long corridors to see my Mistress for the final time.

When I arrived at her lounge, she was, as usual, reclining on a sofa, drink in hand, wearing a long black negligee, her lovely honey-blonde hair loose about her shoulders. She looked sad.

'Vanessa,' she said, 'I don't know what I shall do without you. I have become so reliant upon our evenings. The Sheikh tells me he has requested a replacement, but for me, that will be impossible.' There were tears in her eyes as she spoke, and I sat beside her, wiping them away. I took her drink from her and put it down on the coffee table, and then kissed her letting my silver tongue-stud work its magic on her, as it invariably did, until, she shrugged her shoulders out of her negligee, and revealed her lovely, mature body to me again. It was possible to believe that the surgeon's knife had played a part in preserving her firm breasts and flat stomach in such perfection, her legs and buttocks so shapely and young, but I could only hope that I was to be half as good when I reached her age. I felt her moistening slit, and she moaned, as she always did, when I touched her tiny bud of a clitoris, pushing me gently away. 

'Go and get the cane, Vanessa,' she said. In the month I had been at the palace, our roles had slowly reversed. Helena had thrashed me nightly with her special cane from my first night there, giving me sufficient pain with one single stroke to set my juices running – even to bring me to an instant orgasm. Then, after a few nights, she had asked me to cane her. Reluctant at first, I had done her bidding, but, as time went on, she started to crave more and more of the punishment I meted out – and, I was forced to admit, I enjoyed giving it! Thee very thought of punishing someone physically had always been abhorrent to me, but when the recipient begged for it, loved me for it – that was, had to be, quite another matter.

'Yes, Mistress!' I now said, and went to fetch the long thin cane from its place on the sideboard.

'Now please tie me up,' she said. She had never had me tie her up before. 'I want to remember this evening.'

She stood up, dropping the negligee on the sofa, and walked, statuesque in high-heeled mules, to a column which supported the gallery. I saw she had in her hand the tie-cord of the negligee. She passed it to me, then turned to face the column, and put her arms around it, so that I could tie her wrists together. I complied.

'Now whip me, hard!' she ordered, and I stood back and brought the cane swishing through the air, then 'CRACK' – the sound of the cruel switch striking her tender flesh of her middle back made me wince, and she squirmed against the cool plaster column as I watched a red welt appear instantly along the line of my stroke. Without delay I laid another one directly above the first, harder still, knowing instinctively how much she would want me to hurt her, and this time she cried out, a pretty little, 'Oooh' as I caused another red stripe to appear. I knew the next was going to be lower down, and the small of her back was my target for a lighter blow this time. She threw her head back almost contemptuously, as if to ask me if that was the best I could do, so I gave her a vicious lash across her upper buttocks, raising a bright red wheal, and causing her to cry out sharply.

'One more, Mistress,' I said, and thrashed her again close to the previous one, this time seeing tiny droplets of blood springing up along the red line of the welt. When I gently pulled her head around to face me, she was sobbing quietly.

I untied her, and helped her down to the sofa. She pulled me down with her, and tried to pull my skirt up, but it was too tight. 

'Wait,' I said, but she wouldn't do anything of the sort, and grasping the hem of my dress with both hands, tore the thin material apart from hem to waist, then plunged her head down between my legs, into my waiting, dripping wet pussy, her silky gold hair trailing across my thighs as she found my clit with her searching tongue, and flicked at the nub in the way she knew would bring me to a rapid climax. 

I manoeuvred her into a '69' position, easing her legs wide apart and licking the length of her perfumed crack with my tongue, letting her feel my stud graze the insides of her labia – I knew that drove her wild.

She panted when I thrust my tongue deep into her cunt and simultaneously pushed a long finger into the secret depths of her arsehole, then she too tongued deep into my fuckhole, and I allowed my control to fall away, releasing a massive orgasm which coincided with that of my Mistress.

We lay exhausted together, not for the first time, until she spoke, sadly, to me, 'I can't believe we shall not be able to do this again, Vanessa.' And there were tears in my eyes too when I finally took my leave of her and went back to my room. But, in truth, I was looking forward to getting back to Madrid, and my poor arsehole needed a rest, after the daily ravaging it had received from the old Sheikh during the last month. I grinned at the sudden thought that Rafael would appreciate its resultant increase in diameter, which was my last, before drifting off into a dreamless sleep. 

The Iberia flight touched down at Madrid Barajas on time, and I was feeling light-headed after taking on board a couple of gin and tonics – my first alcoholic drinks for over a month – when I passed gratefully without a pull through Customs. I didn't want to show anybody what I had in my suitcase, because it was, in fact, stuffed full of jewellery, presents from the Sheikh and Helena, both for me and to give to the other girls. Rafael's driver was waiting for me, and greeted me with a hug – it was just nice to feel that I was in a free country again, and see women dressed in normal clothes, going about their business. Still the experience had been more than worthwhile, and I knew that there was a shining new Mercedes awaiting my collection at the dealership the next day. 

When we drew up outside the Casa Fontana, the two Arab girls whose lives I had effectively 'saved' by agreeing to spend a month at the Sheikh's palace – Leila and Yasmina – were waiting outside on the steps to meet me – a nice touch, I thought.

They looked radiantly happy, in cotton sundresses and 'regulation' stilettos. Both welcomed me in English, eager the show off their newly-learned few words. But I wanted to see Alicia, and was disappointed to learn that she was off doing a show in Budapest, and wouldn't be back for a couple of days.

I went to my room to freshen up and change. Slipping out of my travelling clothes, I looked at my image in the mirror. The signs of my last whipping had almost completely faded, and I realised that, even though the Sheikh had flogged me from time to time, I craved the feel of Rafael's long cane, as only he could administer it. 

He must have been reading my mind. My bedside phone rang, and Rafael's sexy voice was music in my ear. 

'Nice to be back?' 

'Oh yes, Rafael,' I replied.

'Would you have dinner with me?'

'Of course.'

'Then dress now and I'll see you in half an hour, say. Is that enough?'

I said it was, and trembled with excitement, as I chose a dress I hoped he would approve of. He liked me naked under whatever I chose, and I knew also that he favoured silk, so I picked out a long gold silk gown, long-sleeved, with a high neck, the bodice loose enough to allow my breasts to jiggle as I walked, deeply cut-out at the back, so that my entire back was bare, right down to the start of the cleft between my buttocks. The skirt encased my legs like a glove, a concealed zipper from floor to waist hobbling me completely. I wore a pair of impossible high gold stilettos with it, and found it very difficult to negotiate the stairs down to Rafael's study.

'God, Vanessa, you look wonderful,' he said, 'let's go now, before I have to fuck you right here!'

'Do we have to go?' I mischievously wanted to know.

'Unfortunately I've booked a table,' he said, smiling, 'but afterwards...........' 

Before we left for the restaurant, he took me in his arms and kissed me, and I let my tongue-stud play around his teeth and his own tongue, gently teasing him with its unfamiliar presence. He liked it, and told me so. 

'You'll like it even more on your cock,' I told him, and felt his hardness with my hand at the thought.

At the restaurant, our usual waiter found it hard not to look at my nipples, almost spilling the food on one occasion, so that Rafael embarrassed him by saying to him, 'I'll let you fuck her if you like, but just serve us for now, eh?'

'Did you mean that?' I asked him, when the young guy had turned and scuttled back to the kitchen.

'Would you like him to?'

'Mmmm. Probably.'

'I'd have to punish you for it, of course.'

'Then certainly, I'd like it.'

'OK,' he said, 'change of plan for the evening then – he comes back with us!'

'Fetch me the head waiter!' he commanded the waiter on his next visit to the table.

The waiter, looking terrified, complied immediately, doubtless expecting a dressing-down, and Rafael whispered in the suave Maître d's ear. The tall man grinned, and then summoned the young waiter with a click of his fingers. When he spoke to him, the young guy looked over to us, eyes like saucers, shaking his head in disbelief.

We were having our sweets by then, and Rafael told the waiter to bring our coffees right away. He practically flew over to the bar for them, and hovered near while we finished them.

In the taxi on the way back to the Fontana, I sat between Rafael and the waiter, learning that his name was Pedro. When I gave a gentle stroke to the front of his black trousers, I found that he had an erection which must have been a painful, constrained as it was in his tight pants.

We went straight to Rafael's suite at the Casa Fontana, and Rafael had to go and take a piss. As he went, he said to Pedro, 'Undress her!'

He stood facing me for a moment, strangely hesitant, then reached around and unhooked the fastening at the back of my neck, letting the soft silk of my bodice fall away, leaving my breasts naked. He cupped them in his hands almost lovingly, feeling the tautness of my nipples. But I didn't let him dwell there – I pushed him gently away, and

Twisted around so that he could have access to the zipper which encased me in the confines of my tight skirt. He got the idea, and unzipped me, pulling the tag from my waist to the floor. I knelt, naked, in front of Rafael's favourite armchair, my knees, slightly apart, one arm on the chair's seat, the other hand behind me, parting the lips of my pussy, as Pedro got to his knees behind me, nervously fumbling with his zip. He was even more nervous when Rafael walked into the room, and sat down with a flourish in the chair, pulling my head into his lap.

As I unzipped him with my teeth, as he liked me to do, he said to Pedro, 'Come On, don't be shy!'

Rafael's beautiful cock sprang out like reinforced steel, and I licked pre-cum off the tip, letting my stud linger around the tip until he groaned and pushed my head down. As I took him into my mouth, I felt Pedro's thick weapon start to spear the portals of my cunt, penetrating me insistently as he thrust his eagerness deep into my warm, wet passage. I squirmed as his thickness filled me and I smoothed Rafael way down into my throat, letting him fuck my mouth as he would my pussy, wrapping my tongue around his shaft as he pumped. Pedro pounded in and out, banging his heavy balls against my arse, kneading my tits with his big, rough hands, as I let my orgasm build unchecked, its delicious climax nearing as I felt Pedro reaching his own. He roared as his strokes sped to an unbelievable rate, and I almost blacked out with the force of my orgasm, as both men came at once, my cunt and my throat flooded with hot spunk so that I could hardly breathe. Rafael's head was thrown back in ecstasy as I sucked down the last of his delicious salty cum.

Rafael then summarily dismissed Pedro, telling him to get dressed, and at the same time calling for one off the maids to escort him down to wait for a taxi.

'Now, my dear,' he said, as soon as the maid had quietly closed the door, 'you must be punished, of course!'

His cock was already hardening visibly again at the prospect of the caning he was about to give me, and he made no attempt to zip up his trousers. He pulled me to my feet and, in no time at all, had me cuffed to the end post of his four-poster bed, which had a stout metal ring set into it about a foot above my head. I glanced around and could see my reflection in his mirrored wardrobe door, naked but for my stilettos, in which I could just stand and avoid being suspended from my wrists. I felt helpless, yet so excited, knowing about the thrill of the pain that was certain to follow, that wwould transport me to ecstasy.

Rafael said, 'You have missed this, haven't you, Vanessa?'

'Oh yes!' I heard myself say.

'And you crave the punishment, don't you?'

'Yes, Rafael.'

'You want me to hurt you?'

'Oh yes. Yes please!' My sex was on fire, the fucking I had had from Pedro no more than an overture for this, the night's real pleasure. I was close to a thundering orgasm, and he hadn't touched me yet.

He was back behind me again, now holding his favourite cane, the one with the handle like a golf club. He swished it through the air, as if to test it, but he was so expert with it, I knew he could do with me as he pleased.

I looked at him beseechingly, and he said, 'You shall wait no longer,' then he lashed me hard across my upper back, just below the shoulder blades.

'Ooh-oh!' I cried, and he deliberately let me feel the hardness of his now rampant shaft against my buttocks. 

The next stroke was harder still, and a touch lower down, landing with a fearsome 'crack' and drawing a gasp from me as the awful sting of the thin cane was converted from a longing to a terrible, ecstatic reality. I came, in waves of sheer delirium, and knew I should multiply under the ferocity of his punishment.

He lashed me again, across the small of my back, and immediately thrust his hand roughly into my crack, knowing I had had a surging climax, and wanting to share it. Now in a hurry, he thrashed me frenziedly across my rounded, tender buttocks, leaving great red welts that would make sitting an agony for days.

When he saw that I was sobbing with the pain, he unfastened me, and lay me gently down on the bed, face down, then climbed on to the bed beside me. 

I felt for his cock. It was as hard as iron.

'Fuck me in the arsehole, Rafael, now!' I told him. It was, I think, the first time I had presumed to give him anything that sounded like an order, but I now knew that being punished infers a certain superiority on the receiver – something you learn with time.

Obediently, he handed me a cushion to put under my belly, and I opened my legs slightly then reached a hand behind, and prised my arse-cheeks apart to show him thee dark cavern of my now-well-used arsehole. He needed no further invitation to slip easily into my velvet passage.

I had yet another shuddering climax as he shot his load of creamy cum deep into my bowels.

'I hope you enjoyed tonight's meal,' he said, when I was slipping into a robe to go back to my room.

'The coffees were a bit hurried,' I said, with a grin.

I needed a day to recover from the exertions of a night like that, and suspected that Rafael knew, so I spent the next morning quietly, tending my sore back and behind, and reading in my room. The wounds were no more than superficial, however, and by the afternoon, I was feeling fine, so I went into town to pick up my gleaming new Mercedes Sport, my present from the Sheikh. When I got back, Rafael called me into his office.

'How are you, my dear?' he asked, at once.

'Fine, thanks,' I replied.

'Good, because you are going off to do a show with Nikolai, a new guy, and two girls in three days' time.'

'Oh. Who are the girls?'

'The two Arab girls you helped rescue from Saudi.'

'But, Rafael, they are novices, aren't they? What about Alicia, and Cindy?'

'They are in Amsterdam, not due back until the weekend. And Leila and Yasmina will be fine – they are very eager to please. And the new guy starts later, just in time to go with you- but I know him – he'll be fine.'

I was not so sure, but another question occurred to me: 'Where are we going?'

'England!' he said.

'Bloody hell,' I said, 'you can't put a show on there, the police.....the laws.....oh shit!'

'Don't worry about all that,' he said, 'money tends to solve most problems, and there's rather a lot of that involved. Now, you and Nikolai have a couple of days to fine-tune the two girls. Here's what you are going to do.........' He went on to explain the show, which was not dissimilar from the others I had done, but I left wondering just how the two Arab girls were going to take to the BDSM scene.

I wasn't going to have to wonder for long. Rafael sent for them, and they duly turned up, both dressed in tiny miniskirts, silk blouses and high heels. They were quite similar, except that Yasmina was slightly taller, and had shorter hair. Both were slim, with long legs, had jet black, shiny hair, wore tiny diamond studs in their noses, and had dark brown, almost black eyes, now wide with apprehension at being called to the Boss's office.

They relaxed a little, however, when they saw me there, but their nerves returned when they learned that they were to make their debuts in a show in so short a time.

I found out that neither of them was by now a stranger to the whip. They had both been systematically beaten by the old Sheikh before leaving Saudi Arabia anyway, and Rafael had ordered them to be whipped twice since their arrival. He told me, in front of them, that they took it well, and they nodded in unison when he said they appeared to enjoy the lash. 

Feeling better about our prospects of putting on a good show, but nervous about our venue, I escorted the girls to the theatre to meet Nikolai, who had just got back from a holiday in the Seychelles. 

I hadn't seen the handsome blond myself for some time, and thought he looked great, bronzed and fit. The two girls looked about to faint at the mere sight of him.

We talked around the scene quite a bit, though communications were always going to be a problem – Nikolai still spoke more Russian than anything else, and the two girls conversed amongst themselves in Arabic, but had little or no language in common with Nikolai, who spoke with me in halting Spanish. They spoke to me in English, fairly well.




Vanessa's Vocation Ch. 03



Still, we managed to get along OK, and I got across the essence of the show to the others. I needed to make sure that the two girls were well-prepared for anal sex, as I knew from experience that Nikolai was well-endowed, so I had both of them show me their arseholes there and then. 

I was immediately struck by the difference. Leila was clearly well used to being fucked in the anus. When she spread her buttocks, she did so with a practised air, looking back at me over her shoulder coquettishly. Her arsehole was a black, inviting cave, which would swallow up any cock, suck it into its warm, mysterious depths like a vacuum cleaner. Yasmina, on the other hand, showed me a little, puckered hole which could almost have been virgin. I told her not to move, and fetched lubricant and a medium butt-plug. I smeared the lube around her hole, then, gently at first, worked the black rubber plug in past her sphincter, causing her to wriggle and groan ass it forced its way into her tender back passage. When a couple of centimetres remained, I rammed it in hard, and she cried out sharply. I spanked her hard across her rounded buttocks, reddening them prettily, and told her she had to keep the plug in place for twenty-four hours, and then have it replaced by a larger one. When she protested, her friend spoke sharply to her in Arabic. I asked her what she had said, and she told me that she had reminded Yasmina that she might well have been stoned to death by now were it not for my intervention. I gave her a kiss, and said, 'Thanks, but let's not be too dramatic.' 

Nikolai gave me to understand he wanted to know if the girls were used to being punished, as he was going to have to whip them in public, so I told them to strip so that he could see the stripes inflicted by their most recent whipping.

Both had their backs criss-crossed with red wheals.

'Who did that?' I asked.

'Alicia,' said Yasmina, 'with the riding crop.'

'Did she tie you up,' I asked.

'I do not need to be tied up,' retorted Yasmina, proudly.

'You will be chained up for the show,' I said, 'for the benefit of the public.'

We agreed on a costume rehearsal for the next day, then a day's rest before we were due to fly to England.

I spent that afternoon enjoying my new car. I drove out into the countryside with the hood down – it was good to be alive.

Next morning, as arranged, we assembled in the theatre, with Rafael taking the place of the new guy, who hadn't yet arrived.

I wore a black corset, which Nikolai had to tighten for me, so that my waist was suitably constricted, with long garter straps, black fishnet stockings and stilettos. My breasts, pushed up by the corset were bare, and I wore silver nipple-clamps, joined by a thin silver chain. I carried a cruel-looking bull-whip. Nikolai and Rafael wore the standard garb of pseudo-monastic robes, which parted at the front, so that their cocks would project once they had worked up erections. Each of them led one of the girls on stage. They wore completely transparent red long gowns, with long sleeves and high necks, through which every detail of their slim young bodies could be seen. Both were shackled and handcuffed, and were led by leashes clipped into leather collars around their necks. Their hair was done up in elaborate styles.

On the stage were two St. Andrew's Crosses, with snap-links at the extremities, and Rafael and Nikolai quickly fastened a girl to each. We had a brief discussion, and Rafael accepted my suggestion that it would be a good idea if, as a novelty, one was facing the cross, the other facing the audience. Only then was the flimsy dress ripped away from the body off each girl. Rafael told them they had to look more scared than they did, and squirm a bit, as if they were both scared and waiting for the whip. Then I had to bring both of the men to an erection.

'You want me to do that now?' I asked.

'Why not?' said Rafael.

I sidled up to Nikolai first. I hadn't seen him for some time, and I guess the sight of me with my nipple-clamps had some sort of an effect, coupled with the naked girl chained to the cross he was shortly going to see cruelly whipped. Whatever, he was already almost completely erect, his massive rod thrusting out through the parting in his robe. I took just the tip of it in my lips, running my studded tongue over his crown. He groaned and his cock grew to its impressive full length, as Rafael tapped me on the shoulder. But what tapped me on the shoulder was his familiar weapon, the prick I loved so much. I took him deep into my throat, knowing his control was superb, and he closed his eyes as He gave a few strokes in my mouth, bringing himself to full readiness. 

I stood up, and picked up the whip fro where I had let it fall. I was, by now, expert in the wielding of this implement, and knew that I shouldn't do too much damage to the girls if they were to be presentable in England in two days' time. I said ass much to Rafael, and he nodded.

I gave Yasmina three strokes across her lower back, raising red stripes which would soon go away, and turning to Leila, lashed her twice across her stomach and once across her tits. She yelled in agony at that, but when Nikolai felt her crack, he said she was soaking. The two girls were unclipped, and laid face-down across padded benches, in full view of the theoretical audience. I made sure their positions were correct, with legs apart, and then Nikolai took Leila and Rafael took Yasmina. The latter screamed when Rafael entered her arsehole, despite my work with the butt-plugs, and Rafael said he had serious doubts whether she could take the new guy's cock in her arsehole, unless he was quite small.

'We shall find out tomorrow,' he said.

Conrado duly showed up after lunch the next day. We were booked on a flight the morning after, so there was little time to work with him, but Rafael had told me that he had worked in a similar capacity in Brazil, so he wasn't worried about him. 

Half an hour after he arrived, however, Rafael summoned me to his office. He was looking grim.

'Bad news, Vanessa!'

'Oh?'

'Conrado is fucking huge! He would split Yasmina in two.'

'Then he can fuck her pussy.'

'No,' he said, 'that's not what the contract says. You'll have to do a swap.'

'But she'll never be able to use the bull-whip.'

'No problem. She can use a riding crop. That doesn't matter.'

'OK,' I agreed.

'You mean you'll do it? You're a real gem, Vanessa.'

When I saw Conrado, I thought I hadn't made a bad decision. He was a hunk and a half! Olive-skinned, with black curly hair and a strong chin, he had an athlete's body and stood well over six feet tall.

We duly boarded a British Airways flight for Heathrow at Madrid Barajas next morning, and I'm sure we must have looked an ill-assorted bunch – the blond Nikolai, Latin Conrado, the two Arab beauties and myself. Try as I might, I was always typecast as the original 'English Rose.'

We were met at Heathrow, and whisked off deep into what I supposed were the Chilterns, in a people-carrier with heavily tinted windows. The verdant countryside flashed by and our silent chauffeur refused to be drawn into conversation, so we responded by speaking to each other in Spanish.

An hour and a half's journey saw us pulling up by a gateway. The driver got out and rang a bell-push concealed behind a flap, then spoke into a grille. The tall, spiked gates swung open as he got into the driving seat, and we were inside, faced with a tree-lined driveway. Half a mile of this, and we came to a parking area in front of an imposing Tudor-style mansion.

Two uniformed maids awaited us on the steps of an ample porch, and took our hand luggage, whilst a porter helped the driver with our heavier items from the back of the vehicle.

Before being shown the dressing room, I was led to a study, where I was introduced to the owner of the Mansion, a distinguished titled gentleman in his fifties, who received me with great charm.

It was almost seven, and the show was due to start at eight thirty, so we had no time to lose, and had to start getting ready right away.

My first concern was Yasmina, and after telling her to strip, I fitted her into a black leather corset, which I then laced as tight as I possibly could, causing her to gasp aloud as her waist was pulled in until I could span around it with my fingers. Her breasts were pushed upwards above the platform of the bra, and her long dark nipples were just asking to be sucked. I briefly obliged, causing them to harden instantly, and preparing her for the sudden pain I inflicted when I screwed on the cruel silver clamps. I tightened them down hard, and she cried out in agony. Then I connected them with the length of delicate chain. When I had her roll on her fishnet stockings and clip them to her garter straps, I stroked her naked mound, and said to her, 'When you go on to face the audience, play with your pussy a little – they will like that'

'OK,' she said, and suggested she might push the handle of the crop into her cunt. I thought that was a great idea.

It was time to slip into our gowns, Leila and myself. That was no problem – we were totally naked apart from them, and barefoot. We helped each other with our collars, ankle restraints, chains and handcuffs, then the two men came along in their monks' robes and attached our leashes, ready to lead us out on to the prepared stage, which they had already inspected.

We had a few minutes to wait, and checked our hair-does in the mirrors. Yasmina's was left loose, flowing in a long, jet-black mane down her back, as she wasn't going to be whipped, whilst we two had ours' tied up in French knots.

We heard our musical cue, and were led out on to the low stage by Yasmina, to much applause from the relatively few people in the audience. My first view of the auditorium revealed fewer than forty people, mostly, but by no means all, men – and all in evening dress. They were sat in elegant Regency chairs, at tables, all drinking. It looked like a scene from another century. Yasmina hammed it up with her riding crop, parting her puffy cunt-lips, and shoving the handle deep into her capacious hole, an expression of rapture on her face.

Meanwhile, Leila and I were chained to our respective crosses, our cuffs and shackles taken away. Although I had my back to the audience, I looked around, and saw Yasmina now busy, snaking her curvaceous body down the front of Nikolai's robe, then feeling inside its opening, to pull out his erect cock. The audience applauded when she took it deep into her mouth and Nikolai rolled his eyes upwards. He pumped it once or twice, for effect, then Conrado, who was taller and more muscular, made a show of pushing him aside, and swept his robe open to reveal an absolutely enormous weapon – it was fully ten inches long, and thick as my wrist. I looked away, now horrified that he was going to invade my arsehole with such a mighty tool – I really doubted whether I could take it.

Yasmina had to stretch her mouth wide to take his prodigious prick into her lips, andd the audience were silenced in awe, as she looked up adoringly, her mouth full of his engorged flesh. Then he pushed her away, and she picked up her long riding crop, and strode over to Leila. In one rapid movement she tore the flimsy gown from neck to hem, and the audience applauded as Leila's naked body was revealed, her arms and legs spread-eagled in a position of maximum vulnerability. To exhibit this, Yasmina put her free hand into Leila's shaven crack, making sure the audience could see her fingers disappearing into the other girl's cunt. When she withdrew them, she transferred them to her mouth, and, facing the audience, drank of Leila's sweet juices. Then, without warning, she turned, and whipped Leila across her flat stomach, causing her to cry out sharply, and a thin red stripe to be raised on her tender flesh.

Again and again she drew back her arm, and lashed the other girl, this time just above the waist, first to one side, then to the other. She had Leila squirming against her bonds, moaning and crying out at each stroke, and when she whipped the sides of her firm young breasts, Leila cried out, 'No, no, oh, oh, please!' and started to moan constantly, wriggling and pulling at her cuffs. 

Nikolai stepped up, and theatrically pushed Yasmina away, unfastening Leila's bonds, and whisking her up in his powerful arms. He put her down on the padded couch, her knees on the stage nearest the audience, then kicked her legs apart, and knelt down behind her. Although I couldn't see much from my position, I heard her simulated scream as he entered her rectum, and the audience's collective gasp. As was usual with our shows, I was sure there were more than a few of the audience openly masturbating and engaged in their own sexual activities.

But the audience's attention was being turned to my plight, and Conrado stood by and watched as Yasmina now tore the gown from my back. I felt the usual delicious anticipation of the crop, knowing that its pain was, for me, a prelude to true pleasure. Yasmina gave me a first stroke across my upper back. The sting that it gave me rippled through my body, giving me a warm sensation which set my juices flowing instantly. A second blow followed, and I whispered, 'Harder!' as she drew back her arm and lashed me across my lower back, raising, I was sure, a nice red welt, that the audience could enjoy. I was by now very close to an orgasm, and when the crop rained down on my tender buttocks, and I moaned and bucked, it was in the throes of an ecstatic climax, transporting me to another world. 

When I 'came down,' Conrado was unclipping me from my bonds, and I shuddered as he carried me bodily over to my couch and placed me across it, pushing my knees apart.

I lewdly parted my buttocks, reaching behind with both hands, showing the audience my arsehole, as Conrado whipped back his robe, displaying his enormous shaft. I looked over my shoulder in real apprehension.

He knelt behind me, and I was grateful that he took his time. First I felt the urgent thrust of his crown, probing at my anus. It would not be denied, and his rock-hard shaft worked its inexorable way into my tender passage. Had I not so recently been opened up so frequently by the cruel sodomising of the old sheikh, I don't think he could have forced his way in, and, as it was, I was in absolute agony by the time his enormous weapon broached my sphincter. 

'Oh no!' I cried, then, 'Oooh, oh, ooargh, yes, you bastard!' And then he was inside me, filling my whole body with his huge, urgent, maleness – and I wanted him to hurt me, to hurt me more, to tear my flesh. 'Fuck me, you bastard!' I yelled, and the audience joined in, 'Yes, fuck the bitch, fuck her arsehole!' 

He drove into me so fiercely that he was pushing the couch across the stage, and he wasn't able to keep it going for long. 'I'm cumming!' he shouted, and stiffening, he drove into me one long last time, and shot his load of hot spunk deep into my bowels, as I had an almighty orgasm. The sheer force of which caused me to lose consciousness for a brief moment.

After the curtain came down, and we had taken a curtain call, clutching our robes about us, to wild applause from the audience, the owner of the Mansion came backstage and invited us to dinner. We were a little concerned that we had brought nothing special to wear for such an occasion, so we had to make do with our travelling clothes – in my case a simple button-through summer dress and high heels. 

It didn't seem to matter, however, and my last act before being driven off to the airport for our flight to Madrid was to give our host a quick hand-job under the tablecloth. He assured us that we should be invited back.



Vanessa's Vocation



I asked her how many of us there were, and she replied that I made six, and three young guys were on the permanent staff too, but that at any one time, three or four were usually away doing a show somewhere. 'And that's not counting the domestic staff,' she said.

I asked her if she liked it here, and she rolled her eyes, and said, 'Sure beats working, honey.' 

Cindy looked me up and down, and said, 'Look, Vanessa, do yourself a favour, eh. Get out of those jeans, and pop into a nice sundress or something, so you look like one of us.'

I grinned and, going into the bathroom, stripped off jeans, tee-shirt and panties. Cindy was still sitting on the bed, watching me through the open door.

'Best get rid of that bush, sweetie,' she suggested, and got up, sauntering over to the door. 

'Want some help?' I didn't really need any, but she was trying to be friendly, so I let her soap my mound and enjoyed the sensation more than I thought possible as she lathered all around my labia, made me sit right up to the edge of the bath, and made absolutely sure that she had covered every bit of my arse with the creamy suds. Then she carefully went to work shaving every vestige of hair from my entire pubic region, all around my sensitive little arsehole too, frequently running her fingers all over to make certain that no single hair remained, and I was smooth as a baby, for the first time in my adult life. When she had finished, she bent down and kissed my pussy lips, fleetingly darting her sharp little tongue in between them until it flicked at the very tip of my clitoris. I gasped.

'There,' she said, 'you'll do.' With that she went and threw a flimsy cotton print sundress, like the one she herself was wearing, out on the bed, and I slipped it on. I felt naked with the short skirt and no panties, especially now that my pussy was completely bare. It was going to take some getting used to. 

'Do you go out like this?' I asked.

'You mean without panties? Of course. You get used to it.'

She passed me a pair of very high stilettos from the bottom of the wardrobe, and said, 'Here, honey, you'll have to get used to these, as well. We never wear anything lower here – house rules.'

'There seem to be a lot of rules.'

'You don't know the half of it,' she said, mysteriously, and we went down to lunch.

We sat down to lunch in a sunny dining room, at a table for four. Almost immediately, we were joined by Alicia and a young blond hunk, whom she introduced as Nikolai. He was, he said, Russian. We were served with an excellent, light lunch, and Alicia, who appeared to be the spokesperson, glanced at the other two, then started to talk to me.

'Vanessa, I understand Rafael has told you something about the business, and what your role in it may be?' She looked up at me to check that I was paying proper attention to what she was saying, and, satisfied, she went on, 'Rafael has charged the four of us with helping you integrate with us as soon as possible. Others may help, but, at the moment, we are the only people around, apart from Rafael himself, because he has just sent a team to Rio, so it is convenient that we take on your training, as it were – though we never talk of it as 'training' here.' She paused to see if I was following her, and when I looked relaxed enough, she continued, 'I know you have read 'O', and you are not a child, so I am going to ask you to rest this afternoon, and tell me at dinnertime, just what you think you would like to have done to you. I know I can speak for Cindy when I say that we both find you very attractive, and Nikolai here has a hard-on just looking at you, because he's a horny bastard,' – they all laughed at that, not least the blond Russian – 'so we are all eager to do whatever you want us to do. Go over 'Roissy' in your mind's eye, and see if you have something you would rather like, for instance, as a starting point, and anything you fear, as something to be introduced more gradually. I hope I make myself clear. If not, you can go and see Rafael – he made that clear.'

I thought Alicia had expressed herself very well, and was happy with how she had put things to me. I said so, and she told me to go and rest.

'Dress sexily for dinner,' she said, 'Rafael will probably have guests tonight.'

My mind was in too much of a commotion to rest right away, so I went for a walk in the sunshine, delighting in the breeze blowing around my naked pussy under the short sundress, as I clicked along in the high stilettos. I drew a couple of wolf-whistles as I passed a building site, and waved to the authors of them. I walked on, slowing down to think as I wandered into a park, and coming up with a few conclusions.

My mind more or less made up, I turned and went back to the house, and indulged myself in a long, delicious, siesta.

I woke up, quite refreshed, and bathed, then took a long time going through the clothes in my closet. Checking on the underclothes, I found a couple of the satin, whale-boned corsets Cindy had mentioned – they looked truly terrible garments, and I shuddered to think of wearing them. The only other items were flimsy garter belts, and platform bras, mere shelves, which would leave my nipples entirely exposed. 

I turned my attention to the wardrobe, and started to look through the collection of wonderful clothes. There was a staggering array of beautiful dresses, with silks, chiffons and other transparent and translucent materials predominating.

I took a long time choosing a gown for the evening, but eventually plumped for one I didn't really know whether I dared wear. The top was long-sleeved, high-necked and decorous, except that it was black nylon, completely transparent, coming down in a 'v' front and rear, to just below my navel at the front and to the start of the crack in my arse at the rear. The long pencil skirt was black velvet, so tight around my ankles I could scarcely walk, especially with my feet pushed into black patent stilettos with five inch metallic heels. 

I brushed my long blonde hair out to a sheen, and put in a pair of long silver pendants, then took an hour painting my long nails and preparing my make-up. I wasn't going to be poorly presented for the evening.

When I got downstairs, after having to negotiating the stairs with difficulty in my skirt, Rafael was leaning on the bar, and looked admiringly in my direction, drawing the attention of his two companions, a formally dressed man and a glamorous older woman, to me. I smiled back, then went to join Alicia at our table. She was alone, wearing a loose white Grecian-style silk gown with great silver clasps at the shoulders. She looked magnificent, and I told her so.

'And you look good enough to eat, darling,' she replied, then, without further preliminaries, 'have you decided on what we talked about?'

'Yes,' I said, 'I want to be whipped. I want you to hurt me, please.'

She ran her tongue around her lips. I could tell that my words excited her.

'After dinner, then,' she said, 'but is there something you don't like the idea of?'

'Yes,' I replied, 'I don't think I like the idea of having my arse fucked.' The words cost me an effort, but there – I had come out with it! I was glad, just then, that Alicia and I were alone. I had spent much of the afternoon thinking what I was going to say to her, and what I had voiced were feelings that came from my innermost soul. We all have secrets we keep deep within ourselves – some of us never give voice to them. I had felt wonderful, restrained in the tight skirt, my nipples hard against the transparent top, as I walked into the dining room. Now, I was wet with desire at the knowledge that I was going to be whipped! I wondered if I was so unusual, or if we all had a secret side, and was only bumped out of my reverie when Cindy arrived, together with Nikolai, to take their place at our table. Cindy was cinched tightly into a black satin corset, which made her already narrow waist minute. The corset pushed her generous tits up, so that nipples were thrusting slightly above the horizontal. They were barely covered by a translucent bolero top. Below, she wore a black nylon layered miniskirt, semi-transparent, just covering the lace tops of long black hold-up stockings. Eyes followed her long legs all the way across the room. 

Nikolai was formally attired in a grey suit and button-down shirt and tie, and looked quite sophisticated.

Whilst they were settling at the table, I put my hand briefly over Alicia's, and said quietly, 'Just one thing, I should like you to do it – do you mind?'

She looked at me a little oddly, and said, 'You may regret it, darling. I had planned for Nikolai to do it. I think a woman is much crueller, though. But as you wish.' She squeezed my hand.

We ate a very good meal, and Alicia went over to speak to Rafael at the far side of the room. As they spoke, they all looked in my direction several times, and he finally nodded, as the little brunette made her way back, her breasts jiggling under the thin, soft silk of her dress as she walked. 

After coffee, the four of us went to my room, and Alicia immediately pulled down the zip at the back of my neck, then smoothed the top of my dress down and off. I had to wriggle hard to get out of the tight skirt, and she told me to leave my shoes on, while I sat down on the bed, and Cindy pinned my long hair up out of the way.

Nikolai, meanwhile, stood, laconically observing the proceedings, leaning against a mirror.

Alicia took me by the wrist and pulled me quite brusquely to my feet, then told me to hold on to one of the bed-posts, above my head. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw that she was opening a drawer I hadn't noticed, under the bed. She took out a long, leather, riding crop, and tested it. I heard it make a terrifying swish as it flew through the air, and smacked into her hand. She stood back, then came up to me, and pushed my legs apart, running the crop up and down the insides of my thighs. As it's hard leather touched my tender skin, I gasped in anticipation of the pain I was about to feel, and then felt Alicia's hand probe my slit.

'You're very excited,' she said, 'you know I'm going to hurt you, don't you?'

'Yes,' I said.

'You really want me to, don't you?'

'Oh yes. Please.'

'Much?'

'Yes, whip me, Alicia, I need you to hurt me.'

She stepped back again, and fetched the crop down with a resounding 'crack' against my upper back. The pain was instant, and fierce.

The crop whistled through the air again and landed, lower this time, with a terrible stinging sensation, as it bit into my tender skin. Again and again she rained blows down on me, ever lower, working downwards to my buttocks and upper thighs, causing me to writhe and squirm against the post, and once to reflexively put down a hand, to protect myself from the cruel strokes. At that she said, 'Do that again, and I'll have to tie you up, darling.' 

At last she was finished, and showed me the pattern of red stripes as I looked over my shoulder at the mirror. 'Nikolai will rub cream into them now, ' she said, smiling, 'he'll enjoy that.'

I lay face down on my bed and remained there while the Russian fetched some oils to rub into my welts. Alicia and Cindy meantime went out of the room, leaving us alone. He rubbed the oil, infinitely gently, into my sore back, and carried on down to my buttocks and thighs. When he reached my thighs, he parted them very slowly, almost apologetically, and, as Alicia had done earlier, what now seemed an age ago, ran a hand through my slit. I was still wet. I was now even more so, if anything. During the whipping, I had climaxed once, and was now still 'on the edge.' He parted my lips, now working with both hands, and massaged my clit, drawing deep moans from me, then plunged two fingers deep into my sopping cunt.

'Oh, please, Nikolai,' I said, 'fuck me.'

He needed no further invitation, and produced a tool of prodigious proportions, which stretched me almost to my outer limits, as he pounded into me, his balls slapping my arse as he took me over the edge into total ecstasy.

Then his whole body stiffened and his animal growl announced that his moment could wait no longer, and he came in massive, hot spurts, deep into the neck of my womb.

We lay in each other's arms for a long time, then he kissed me lightly on the cheek, slipped off the bed, covered me with a satin sheet, and quietly left, saying, 'sleep now, you'll need it.'

I awoke to sunshine streaming through the shutters, disoriented, and sore, wondering for a while why I couldn't lay on my back. It all came back to me and I smiled wryly to myself as I remembered the night's entertainment. I bathed gingerly, trying to rub oil into my welts and stripes once again, but didn't do as good a job as Nikolai had done.

I dressed in a cotton sundress, and went down to breakfast.

Alicia was already drinking coffee, sitting at our usual table, wearing a blue silk robe, so I joined her, and she asked after my wounds, which I told her weren't too bad.

'Look,' she said, 'I know you don't want to rush things, but something has come up, and Rafael wants to talk to you later, so I've got to do something for you first. Come to my room with me after breakfast, and we'll see to it, OK?'

I was full of curiosity, and wondered what had 'come up' that made Rafael want to see me so soon. I ate two whole croissants, and had a large cup of coffee, then went with Alicia to her room, which was like mine, but looked more 'lived-in' – with books and other impedimenta scattered around, as if she had been there some time, which indeed she had.

'First of all – nothing to do with what I want you for – help me on with my corset, will you, Vanessa, it's one of my 'corset days.'' 

So saying she slipped the robe from her shoulders, and I couldn't suppress a gasp of surprise. It was the first time I had seen her naked breasts, and they were young and firm, with long, hard, dark nipples. But the surprise was that the right one was pierced, and from it hung a heavy gold ring, from which a chain was connected to a similar ring in her navel. From this, a further length of chain went down her belly, between her legs, and was presumably connected to another device in the region of her pussy.

She saw me staring and laughed, 'Has nobody told you it's rude to stare?'

I flushed and started to say something.

'It's OK darling.' Then she parted her legs and showed me the ring inserted in her clitoris hood. 'Like it?'

'It's perfectly lovely,' I said, and meant it.

'As it happens,' she said, unclipping the chains, 'I've got to take it off now.'

She went over to a drawer and took out a white satin corset, and put it around her slender body, buttoning it in the front. I noticed that its top was in the form of two half-cups, which pushed her breasts up, just like the one Cindy had been wearing, leaving her nipples free, the pendulous ring an erotic device. She twirled around, and told me to lace her in as tight as I was able, and I obliged by hauling on the laces with all my strength. The cruel, whale-boned flanks bit into her as the corset's restraint made itself felt, and Alicia cried out sharply as I gave one final tug before tying off the laces. I saw that the corset was arched above her lovely little buttocks, and also noted the signs that, like myself, Alicia bore the marks of a whipping, though they had faded somewhat. I traced a welt with my forefinger, and she turned to me, smiling enigmatically.

'So you see,' she said, quietly, 'we are alike, you and I.'

She took my hand and placed it on her breast, the one without the ring, and I felt the long nipple grow hard instantly in my fingers. Then Alicia's arm was around my neck and she was kissing me full on the lips. No woman had ever kissed me like that before, and I had never entertained sexual feelings towards another woman, but Alicia aroused something in me, some hidden urge, that wouldn't be denied. I opened my lips, and our tongues delved into each others' mouths as she guided me down onto her bed.

Once she had me on the edge of the bed, she pulled herself out of my grasp, and knelt by my side on the bed, then reaching both hands over, dragged my thighs quite roughly apart, then plunged in with her head between my legs, before I had chance to react in any way. 

I moaned as she forced my labia apart, and stuck a long tongue abruptly into my cunt. 

She licked the whole length of my crack, from my rapidly hardening clit right the way to my tiny arsehole, which she circled with her tongue before probing ever so gently with her long, slender forefinger, causing an 'Oh' to escape my lips as she did so.

She insisted, and her finger went further and further into my virgin anus, waggled a little, then, with excruciating agony, was joined by another, as she invaded my most private place.

'Oh, please, Alicia, don't – please, don't!' I pleaded, but she chose not to hear, and ploughed on, now thrusting hard with both fingers right into my sphincter. I thought I would pass out with the pain, but a new sensation was joining the agony, and I felt an impending orgasm welling up from somewhere deep within my cunt. My breathing gave me away, and Alicia sensed it, I knew. For then she said, 'Not now, darling, I don't want you to cum just yet, sorry.'

She pulled away, and went to her bedside cabinet, coming back with something concealed in her hand. Quickly, she resumed her position between my legs, and I felt the sudden pressure of something being applied to my tender arsehole.

'What are you doing?' I asked, but I already knew.

'Don't worry, my love, I've already lubed it,' she said, and I felt the butt-plug being forced slowly but surely, little-by-little, into my reluctant anus. As it passed the tightness of my sphincter, and invaded my most secret channel once and for all, I felt a new pleasure, compounded of hedonistic joy and total womanhood, that I had never thought I should know. Suddenly the pain of my whipping became yet another factor in the total pleasure I now knew, and it all came together in an uncontrollable orgasm, which hit me in a violent, shuddering storm.

'Wow,' said Alicia, 'you've drawn blood.' And when I looked at what she was indicating, I had, indeed, gouged her arse with my nails when my climax overtook me.

'Sorry,' I said.

She laughed, 'You'll want me to bleed more when you've walked about for a day or so with that thing in.'

She fixed me up with a chain-harness to keep the plug in place, and told me I should have to have a larger one fitted in a day or so.

I dressed then, and got ready to meet Rafael, as he had requested. He had asked me to come to his office, so I had to ask Alicia for directions.

When I got there, and knocked on the door, he called for me to come in straight away.

He was sitting on a sofa, in a dressing gown, and motioned me to sit beside him, which I did, with some awkwardness I hoped he didn't notice, due to the newly-fitted butt-plug.

He smiled and asked me how I liked Casa Fontana after a day, and it was only then I realised that I'd only been there a day!

'Fine,' I was able to say.

'Good, because Alicia thinks you'll do just great, ' he said, 'but I have to ask you a personal question; I hope you don't mind?' 

After all that had happened to me in the last few hours, I could hardly 'mind.' I nodded dumbly.

'When is your next period?'

'That's easy,' I said, 'I just finished one as I left home.'

'That's a relief,' he said, and I looked a question at him.

'OK, I'd better explain,' he said, grinning, 'As you know, I have a team in South America at the moment, and they are due back, after doing shows in several places, next week. But I've been asked if we can do a one-off show at a very exclusive club in the States on Friday night – that's in three days' time. I need two girls and two men. Cindy starts her period tomorrow. That leaves Alicia and you, with Nikolai and Sam.'




Vanessa's Vocation



'Sam?' I asked.

'Sam's with the other team, but will fly up from Rio on Friday – he can be spared then.'

'But, Rafael, I don't have any experience of the shows – and don't know what to do,' I protested.

'Alicia is sure you will cope,' he said, 'the main thing is that everybody isn't just acting. Don't forget these are Reality Shows, and the audience senses that.'

He was looking at me with intensity when he said, 'Look, my dear, this is really important. I could talk to you about money, but it goes beyond that, and, anyway, after the show, the four of you will be free to spend four or five days in New York, doing whatever you want, before you return here.'

I didn't know what to say, except to ask what more he thought I needed to learn. For an answer, he picked up his phone and called Alicia, who appeared in a few moments, as if she had been expecting the call. She had put on a tight leather miniskirt, and even tighter jersey top over the corset, and wore spike-heeled thigh-boots. 

Rafael relayed my concern to her, and she told him that I had just started wearing the first size butt-plug, but that I had seemed to take to it well – I was not too sure about that, as I squirmed uncomfortably on the sofa.

'Let's have a look,' he said, and lifting one of my legs up from the seat, he stripped the harness deftly down over my hips, then pulled the plug out with an audible 'plop.' It left me feeling oddly empty, but relieved. Before I knew it, he was gently massaging my anus with expert fingers. He nodded to Alicia, who fetched a tube of lubricant from a drawer she must have been familiar with. Next, she helped him by holding my legs wide apart, and pulling me bodily towards the edge of the sofa. He worked his fingers deeper and deeper within me with a tenderness I never thought possible, and I hardly knew it when he told me he had three fingers the whole way inside me. But he talked to me the whole time, and his words brought me to a surging climax, juices oozing from my cunt as his hand invaded my still-virgin arsehole.

'I think it's a cock you want in there, isn't it, Vanessa? A hard cock to fill you, tear you, fuck your arse, make you cum, again and again – I'm right, aren't I?' – and so on, as he worked on my anus with his insistent fingers. After a time, he rammed a vibrator into me, and set it in motion. I came again, this time with Alicia flicking at my clitoris with her tongue, while the vibrator buzzed inexorably, filling my rectum.

'She's ready for a bigger plug,' said Rafael, 'she's not really all that small, you know.'

Alicia found a slightly larger butt-plug, and I was soon fitted with it. It wasn't too uncomfortable having it put in place, but walking about, and sitting down, was sheer hell, and I longed to have it removed.

The rest of the day, however, passed uneventfully enough, though I was unable to walk very far, and spent much of it in my bedroom.

The next morning, Thursday, Alicia had told me that I was to see Rafael again at lunchtime. After a quiet morning, I presented myself to him in the dining room, as requested. He was sat at the dining table, with a young man of about eighteen, slightly-built, nice-looking, with dark curly hair.

'This is Fran,' he said, 'I'm afraid he speaks no English, but that has a certain advantage, as it happens. I have explained to him that he is to take your anal virginity after lunch.'

My mouth must have fallen open, because Rafael laughed and said, 'Don't worry, he'll do it very well, and he's much smaller than me, or Nikolai. I chose him for you.'

I really didn't know what to think, and decided it was best not to think at all!

I ate lunch in a sort of trance, and Rafael left me taking coffee mutely with Fran, who smiled a lot, but we could find very few words in common. I took the initiative afterwards, and led him up to my room, where he sat rather nervously on the edge of my bed. I joined him, and kissed him gently on the lips. He reacted immediately, his hands seeking my unfettered breasts under my silk blouse. I like having my nipples touched and they hardened instantly, and then I felt for his manhood and was far from disappointed. Rafael had said he was small. Maybe, but he was rock-hard within his trousers, and begging to be released. I obliged him, and soon had his rampant, throbbing young penis in my hand. He, in turn, was eager to get under my tiny miniskirt, something he rapidly achieved, and grinned with pleasure when he found the lack of panties. 

'Un momento,' I said, in one of my few Spanish phrases, quickly divesting myself of the butt-plug and harness. I thought he must have had this explained, because he showed no surprise at this, and quickly resumed stroking me eagerly, investigating my shaven mound and massaging my slit with enthusiasm. I was getting very warm, and damp, to say the least. I would dearly have liked him to plunge his shaft into my moistening vagina, but knew that could not be, and pushing him gently away, I spread my arse-cheeks wide, glancing at the mirrored wall as I did so. I saw to my satisfaction, not the tiny puckered hole I used to have, but a dark, beckoning, mysterious cavern. The plugs had done their work. 

Fran needed no further encouragement, but had obviously been told to be gentle with me, because, showing patience beyond his years, he smeared lubricant around his stiff, raging erection, before he started, infinitely slowly, to invade my now eager portals.

I watched, fascinated, in the mirror, as the head of his young cock wriggled and forced its way into the velvet tightness of my nether sheath. It hurt a lot – more than I thought possible - as I lost my last virginity, but when the knob of his shaft passed my sphincter, I felt my muscles relax, and the pain was joined by a pleasure so intense I thought I should die from it. I screamed as a towering orgasm took me by storm, then instantly felt another one building deep within me. I knew then that there would never be a substitute for anal sex – not for me – and that I was going to need much more of this. I clutched at his arse as he strove to drive his rod further into my very bowel, and, as I dug my fingernails into his flesh, he cried out something I didn't begin to understand. But I knew what he meant when his whole body stiffened, and he came in a hot stream, deep within me. I thought I had never before experienced sex.

That evening we all sat down to a very nice dinner at Casa Fontana, and I asked Rafael a little about the show we were about to give in the States. He was, I thought, a bit evasive, but said, 'Alicia and Nikolai know what to do, and they will tell you what your role is. Sam is also well aware of his part in it. I know you're going to like Sam. Now enjoy your meal, and enjoy the trip – you'll be fine.'

The next morning was Friday, and we slept in, having been told that our luggage would be taken care of, all except personal items. I felt like royalty when we were picked up in a limousine after lunch and swept off to the airport. We were booked business class to New York – a far cry from the cramped charter flights I was used to. After watching the film, Alicia told me about the show, which I found out we were doing the next day, Saturday. What she told me made me nervous, to say the least. Apparently the show was a mock medieval scenario, with the two men dressed as monks, and we were to be their prisoners. I should be tied to a cross and whipped, while Alicia was made to watch, whilst being stripped by one of the monks, then fucked. I should then be taken down and fucked in the arse. She told me there was more to it than that, but they were the basics. 'You'll enjoy it,' she said. I was far from sure.

For the moment, though, we went on being royalty, as a limo met us at JFK, and whisked us off to an exclusive hotel north of New York City, up the Hudson River.

Sam was waiting in Reception, and embraced Alicia, then was introduced to me. 

He was black – that is to say, African-American, but not coal-black. He had a twinkle in his eye I found instantly irresistible, and Rafael was right – I liked him!

Tired after the long journey, we slept well, but I awoke early, and went for a long walk in the grounds of the hotel before breakfast. We spent the day pleasantly enough, chatting and preparing, then we had a two hour drive to the Country Club where we were to give our show. On the way I quietly asked Alicia which of the men was assigned to fuck me. She smiled, and said, 'Are you sure you want to know? They'll be in monks' habits.'

'I think I might just be able to tell,' I suggested, pointedly looking from the blond head of Nikolai to Sam's cropped black curls.

'Mmmm, I suppose so,' she said, 'but I'll leave you to figure it out.'

When we arrived, a uniformed flunkey opened a huge wrought-iron gate, and we drove in, parking beside a side entrance. Two assistants came dashing out to help us in with our copious amounts of luggage.

I was trembling with nerves as we entered the palatial dressing rooms. I had never appeared in public before in my life, and here I was, making my stage debut – and I was going to be publicly whipped and sodomised. I was on the point of turning tail and running for it, when Alicia put her arm around my shoulder, saying, 'I know how you feel, darling – we've all had a first time.'

A head poked around the door, and a voice said, 'An hour to go, folks!' It was our cue to get ready.

The time dragged, but then a bell sounded, and Sam and Nikolai walked into our room, looking massive in their monks' robes, though both still were without their sinister hoods, which would effectively conceal their identities. Alicia and I had donned simple long white cotton robes, tied at the waist with tasselled cords. I had my hair pinned up, while Alicia had hers loose, in a wild, unkempt-looking cascade falling down her back. Alicia, who slipped on a pair of stilettos ('not very Medieval,' I said, and she laughed, 'no, but sexy!') helped me shackle my ankles, putting on heavy metal anklets, joined together by a short, heavy chain, then she cuffed my wrists in similar fashion, behind my back.

'Come on,' she said, 'let's give them what they want.'

Before I had a chance to think about it, she led me through the door onto the stage, where we were still separated from the auditorium by a heavy red velvet curtain. The two men joined us, now covering their heads entirely with their hoods, so that they looked out through tiny slits.

A drum-roll announced the start of the show, and some ethereal, vaguely religious-sounding music started playing, filling the whole ambience. The curtain slowly rose.

One of the men – I really wasn't sure which, as they were both of a similar height, and he was behind me anyway – grasped my wrist chain and propelled me forward past the plane of the curtain, whilst the other, I could see out of the corner of my eye, had Alicia by a handful of hair and was dragging her bodily beside us. Applause rose from the audience in a respectful wave.

My captor threw me to the wooden floor, and I saw that I was placed on a kind of turntable, out of which sprouted two metal rings. As he bent down to fasten my ankle restraints to the rings, I felt sure it was Sam, as I caught a glimpse of a brown arm beneath his voluminous sleeve. Then he pulled me roughly to my feet and, as the music swelled, he ripped off the cord of my dress and pulled it over my head in one movement. The audience started to make a noise something between a cheer and a whoop – a peculiarly American noise – and single voices could be heard above the mob, 'Fuck the bitch,' 'Give her a good whipping.'

I felt my wrists being released, then my hands were pulled above my head, where chains were waiting to take my wrist-bands, so that I was effectively restrained from above and below. Sam, for I was now sure it was he, stepped back, and the turntable began to revolve, very slowly, so that the audience could all see me from every angle.

Meanwhile, Nikolai had torn Alicia's dress off her back, and she was naked a couple of metres away across the stage. The music changed, and she knew her role. She got slowly to her feet, running sensuous hands over her lovely body, playing briefly with the nipple-ring and showing the audience the secret chain which ran through her pink slit. She stepped lightly on to my turntable and fingered my breasts. My nipples, despite my predicament – or because of it – turned to rocks in an instant. She took one in her lips, and passed a hand over my hairless mound, through my crack, flicking my clit for just a second. 'Relax, darling,' she whispered, and was gone, as Nikolai pulled her brusquely away, and threw her onto a divan nearby. 

The two men left me alone for a moment and Nikolai pushed a cushion under Alicia's arse, making sure she was displayed to the audience at large, her ring glinting in the footlights. 

The audience gasped collectively as Sam's robe fell apart and he knelt by Alicia's 

Head, so that she could take him in her mouth. He was huge.

Meanwhile Nikolai was preparing to plunge an equally impressive cock into Alicia's waiting cunt, but this activity gave me a chance to look around at what I could make out of the auditorium. It was quite large, and seemed to consist largely of sofas, on which were arrayed couples, who appeared to be in evening dress, though many seemed to be already at least half-undressed, and some were openly engaged in sex.

It was my turn, and Sam, his cock projecting from the folds of his robe, approached me with a huge whip in his hand.

'This isn't half as bad as it looks,' he whispered.

It certainly looked pretty terrible, but the truth was that I was, by now, anticipating a good whipping, and wanted Sam to hurt me. I thought my look probably told him so.

He stood back, and took aim, then the whiplash snaked across the stage and struck with a sharp, stinging crack, at the small of my back. I cried out, more for the audience than anything, and it merged with the theatrical moans that Alicia was producing as Nikolai fucked her with great enthusiasm.

Sam lashed me again, this time across my flank, and I could see a red line appear as the pain subsided. He was hurting me, and I knew it was what I wanted him to do. The 

whip now fell across my tender buttocks, and the audience seemed to like that best: 'Thrash her ass,' they cried, and 'whip the dirty whore.' So Sam concentrated on the area.

'Can you take three more?' he asked quietly.

'Yes,' I said, 'hurt me, Sam,' and his erection seemed to grow as he continued to apply the punishment.

But then it was over, and he threw down the whip, calling for Nikolai to help. The two of them unfastened my bonds, and took me down, then Sam carried me to the divan, where I replaced Alicia, who had left the stage to riotous applause, just as I was being released. 

Sam pushed the cushion under my stomach, and I whispered to him to try to avoid my welts. He laughed quietly, and said, 'Open wide, or this will hurt more than any whipping.'

I forced my legs as wide apart as they would go on the divan, and tried to relax my anus as much as I could, but Sam's crown was insistent as it thrust against the portals of my arsehole, and I felt certain he would tear me beyond repair as he forced his brutal way into my tender, newly prepared hole. I gasped and groaned, then screamed out loud as he invaded me. It was the most intolerable pain I had known, but also started merging into the most consummate pleasure, as Sam gave me an arse-fucking I could never forget, as long as I lived. His huge shaft filled me to my very core, and he must have felt the pain of the tightness himself, but he was true to the audience, and pulled out before he came, in huge, creamy spurts, right into my face. 

I wiped myself down on my dress, which lay in a crumpled heap, and levered my painful body up off the divan. We were joined, then, by Nikolai and Alicia, to take the audience's applause, and a curtain-call. They had had their moneys-worth.

We went back into New York, and I spent four days being shown all the sights by Sam, who proved attentive and good fun – we may even become an item when we know each other better – we certainly like the same things. I guess we'll just have to see what happens when we get back to Madrid. But as to what my parents would think, well, there's another thing altogether.