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Revealing Roni

By: Calandria2



Everyone in this story is over eighteen. It deals with Steve and his wife Roni (short for Veronica) and all characters are fictitious, having no relation to any real person.

*

I had been married for three years when the events I am about to relate started to unfold. I should tell you about myself – stuff I had never revealed before included. Twenty eight years old, heterosexual, (though not homophobic) I have always – or at least since I had my first hard-on – been prey to a range of fantasies, some of which I think are abnormal. (though what, pray, is 'normal?') 

Reading stories posted here, half the world seems to be obsessed with panties, or stockings. Although I'm by no means opposed to a pair of black stockings, especially if combined with high heels, I am much more interested in long, silky nightgowns. Before I was married, I would often sleep in one myself, and the more of my body that was in contact with soft silk – or, more likely, synthetic material – the better I liked it, and I would frequently stroke myself through the gown until I came. There, I've confessed! It didn't have anything to do with wanting to go out in drag – the idea never occurred to me. On my wedding night, Roni, who is a slim, vivacious creature with very small tits, wore a long silk nightgown bought specially for the occasion. I fucked her before she had chance to take it off, then again. But she's never worn it again since then – shit! My own inclination to don such garments seemed to have left me, but my pulse till quickened when I touched Roni's silky slips.

I mentioned panties. Another fantasy of mine is imagining girls in the street to be without them. I once actually came across a miniskirted young mum in a supermarket, who bent down to tend to her child, and afforded me an uninterrupted view of her shaven pussy. Lovely! (I've been looking for her – or another – ever since. No luck.)

You know how it is in the first years of a marriage, especially when you're young. It's tough to talk about sex, and you tend to fall into a rut. In our case, I loved it that as soon a I kissed Roni, her nipples went hard as rocks, and she moaned when I fingered her pussy, then we usually fucked in missionary position, though occasionally in doggie fashion, and rolled over and went to sleep. It wasn't that I was particularly bored with that – she was a great fuck, without doubt, and screamed noisily when she came. (though I did wonder if she sometimes faked it) No, it was great, so far as it went, but……

I haven't spoken of my other fantasy. Looking idly through porn on the internet (who doesn't?) I ran into some BDSM clips, and was especially turned on when I saw a Hungarian offering, featuring beautiful young girls being whipped, until their backs were patterned with red welts. The equally gorgeous creature administering this punishment was evidently enjoying herself, and the young ladies being whipped were obviously willing participants.

Oh, and I forgot, I get turned on when I see a girl wearing clothes that must be enormously uncomfortable – very tight skirts, ultra-high heels – I can just imagine that they get off on the restraint too.

I suppose all of that makes me weird – but I do no harm to anyone, do I?

One day I took a phone call, and ended up chatting about this and that with an old schoolfriend of Roni's whom I'd never met, Hazel. She wanted to talk to my wife, who was out, so I promised I'd get her to call back. When Roni came in, she seemed pleased that Hazel had called and rang her straight away. They talked for a while, they I heard Roni say, 'Hang on a mo. I'll see.'

She covered the mouthpiece and said to me, 'Hazel's left her husband and wants to come and stay for a while – OK?'

'Sure,' I said.

'Good, she said you sounded nice.'

'What's she do for a living?'

'She's a psychiatrist at the hospital.'

I never gave the matter another thought until a couple of weeks later, when she turned up on the doorstep. My first impression was that she was a pleasantly plain, slim young woman, a touch more curvaceous, but rather shorter than my wife, and with a nice smile that lit up her face. The idea of sharing my home with two women was slightly worrying – it seemed unlikely I should get much choice when it came to which channel to watch. But Hazel settled in almost invisibly, and all went smoothly. Then, one evening, Roni came home from the solicitor's office where she worked, and announced that we were invited to a party at the lavish home of one of the junior partners.

'And Hazel?' I asked, concerned she would be left alone.

'Oh, I told them about her, and she's invited as well.'

So we all three got ready to go.

Roni looked good in the short, black velvet cocktail dress she wore, which moulded her slim form, and showed a lot of her great legs, encased in black patterned lace stockings. She hummed and hawed over footwear, but plumped for some nice stilettos, which pleased me.

When we went downstairs, Hazel was standing there waiting, and I was immediately struck by her transformation. Plain she wasn't – any more, with artful make-up and long, dangly ear-rings, but it was her dress that caught my attention – all of it! She wore a bronze-coloured, silky, floor-length gown with a halter-neck, which left her long back quite naked, right down to the very beginning of the crack between her buttocks, and revealed a tattooed red and blue butterfly on her lower back. The loose bodice allowed what looked like nice, high breasts a little movement, so that even walking a few paces to the front door caused them to jiggle pleasingly.

We took a cab to the big house in a posh suburb, and a uniformed maid (hired for the occasion?) showed us into a big room, where all the furniture had been cleared, apart from tables groaning under food of all kinds which lined two walls. In the corner beside the door was a well-stocked bar.

The hostess came to greet us. She was a willowy blonde, dressed in a fifties-looking white taffeta skirt, and a blue silk blouse. She introduced herself as Karen, and invited us to help ourselves to food and drink. I reckoned about thirty people were already engaged in just that.

After we had enjoyed some of the tasty snacks and a couple of glasses of wine, Karen announced that she was putting music on for us to dance to. She then dimmed the lights, and the music started with a smoochy number. Karen took to the floor with a young guy, who Roni whispered was a colleague from the office. Karen's husband James was in a clinch with an Asian-looking girl with long black hair, and a long slit in her silver-grey skirt. When another two couples joined in, a guy I knew to be a senior partner at Roni's firm came over and asked if I minded him dancing with my wife. I said I didn't, and took a draught of wine as I watched them go onto the floor, and get lost in the growing number of couples. 

'Why don't we have a dance?' asked Hazel, quietly, and we sidled out into the slow-moving throng. She moulded herself to me in a very nice way, I thought, and soon laid her head, with its mane of soft brown hair, on my shoulder. I pulled her even closer.

'Do you like to dance, Steve?' she murmured in my ear.

'Not normally, but I could easily be persuaded,' I replied, 'I like your dress, by the way.'

'I'm not wearing anything underneath it,' she said, in a matter-of-fact way.

Almost automatically, I moved my hand lower, from where it had been resting at the top of her dress's low-cut back, and, with a life of its own, it made its way to the silky material which covered her buttocks. Simultaneously, I was embarrassed to realise that my cock also had ideas of its own, and a rock-hard erection was insisting itself against Hazel's flat stomach.

'Was it something I said?' she said teasingly, pressing her slim body even tighter against me, and I was lost for a reply.

Her nice buttocks were softer than they looked, and as I felt them, she snaked her arm around my neck, and presented her lips to mine. Desperately, I shot my eyes around, but seeing no sign of my wife, I gave in and kissed Hazel's soft lips, letting her dart her rapacious tongue into my mouth. My erection grew, if that were possible, and I suddenly felt in real danger of cumming, there and then. I tried to think about something else, and partly succeeded, because just then I saw Roni dancing closer to us, and smiled at her. 

As she moved out of range, Hazel said, 'Who's a naughty boy, then?'

'You don't know how naughty.'

'It was when I told you I wasn't wearing panties, wasn't it?'

I murmured my assent, as my cock again ground into her stomach.

'Let's go sit down,' she suggested.

'Walk up close in front of me, or something's going to be obvious,' I said.

I safely negotiated a path to two chairs, helped by the gloom, and sat down gratefully, and Hazel leant across to talk to me, a subtle perfume invading my nostrils.

'I know you love Roni,' she said.

'You're thinking there's a "but" somewhere there, aren't you?'

'Well, is there?'

I hesitated. 'You can tell me,' she said, her eyes looking startlingly gorgeous so close to.

'I know, you're a psychiatrist.'

'But I'm a friend of you both – I hope.' Her long fingernails trailed along my thigh, almost casually, and I could have fucked her there and then. I was still reluctant to open up to her, though.

'If it's a no panties thing, I could talk to Roni about it,' she said, 'would you like that?'

I nodded dumbly.

'But I don't think that's all, is it?' she persisted.

'Do I have to pay for the psychoanalysis?'

'Look, Steve, I want to help you both, that's all, and I just might be able to.'

'So I tell you my innermost secrets, fantasies and all that?'

'Ideally, yes, the I may be able to make some suggestions.'

'Wait while I get us another drink,' I told her, and as I walked to the bar, I saw that Roni was deep in conversation with the same young guy she'd been dancing with, and they had been joined by a pretty young brunette. She would be leaving us undisturbed for a while.

After a good draught of wine, I poured out my heart to Hazel – well, some of it! I told her about how I should like Roni to wear silky and transparent things around the house – without ever admitting that I had once liked wearing them myself - and how I liked the idea of a girl who was without underwear, especially if she risked exposing her nakedness from time to time. I started to say more, then clammed up.

'There's more!' said Hazel, bluntly, looking at me intensely.

'I suppose I'm really weird,' I said.

'You don't know the half of it,' she replied, 'you just wouldn't believe some of the fetishes I hear about.'

'Restrictive clothing?' I murmured, hesitantly.

'Mmm,' she said, 'like it!'

'You mean………?'

'It excites me to wear a very tight corset, or a hobble skirt, yes.'

'Wow!' was all I could say, but she went on, 'And what tends to go with that is a spot of sadism, right?'

I cast my eyes downwards, but nodded. She put a long-nailed hand under my chin, and raised my head so that I was obliged to look into her serious face.

'Steve, it's nothing to be ashamed of, as long as the object of your sadism is a true submissive, a masochist who enjoys receiving whatever you wish to inflict.'

'But…but, how would I know?'

'It takes, perhaps, a conversation such as this, don't you think?' She looked at me with a new, almost coquettish, expression on her face.

'You… you?'

'Yes, Steve, I am a submissive. Would you like to picture me chained up, being brutally whipped?'

'I…I don't know what to say.'

She patted my knee, as if the conversation were coming to an end. 'I'll talk to Roni tomorrow,' she said, ' now let's go and mingle.'

Next morning was Saturday. Before Hazel came down to breakfast, Roni told me that the two women had arranged to go shopping together for the day. It suited me fine, as I needed to go into my office for the morning, and there was what promised to be a good match on the telly in the afternoon.

No sooner had the final whistle sounded on a boring drawn game, than I heard Roni's key in the door, and the two women clattered in with arms full of shopping bags. They greeted me, and both went about their girlie business while I watched Discovery Channel and drank a cold beer.

Later, over dinner, I felt rather than saw a subtle change in the relationship of my two female companions. I couldn't put a finger on it, but they were somehow more….intimate? Secretive? No, probably not really, but I sensed that whatever they had bought (and they didn't show me anything) was secondary to whatever they had discussed. I just wondered if I had imagined what Hazel said to me about her being a submissive, and if she had, in fact, spoken to Roni about the things we had talked about last night.

I didn't have long to wait for at least a part of my answer.

'Coming to bed?' asked Roni. That was new – she normally just sloped off, and when I got upstairs, she was sound asleep.

We went up togther, and I did my usual act of undressing in half a minute, and diving into bed, while my wife called, 'Won't be a minute,' from the en-suite bathroom.

When, after more like five minutes, she eventually emerged, my jaw dropped open with astonishment. For she was wearing a long, black gown, long sleeved and with a silky sheen, but completely transparent, with a lace fringe at the hem and cuffs. As she walked up to the bed, I saw beneath it a heavy silver chain hanging loosely about her narrow waist, its loose end dangling suggestively around the neatly trimmed black triangle of pubic hair. Her nipples – always her best feature - poked out at the sheer material from the small mounds of her almost adolescent breasts, and my cock rose uninvited just from the erotic sight of her.

'I can see you like it,' she said, walking very slowly, sexily, towards me, smoothing the hem of the gown up her slim legs.

I lay there and let her climb onto the bed and straddle me, allowing the lovely, silky gown to trail down over me as she impaled herself on my rampant shaft.

'Oh, Roni!' I said, hoarsely, as I felt her agile cunt-muscles grip my cock, then release it, as I drove into her with my hips, simultaneously sliding my hand under the gown to massage her clit. She threw her head back and moaned as I thrust into her very centre. I came almost immediately – too quickly, I thought – but the moisture oozing from her pussy, and her extravagant moans told me that she too had cum.

'Hazel spoke to you,' I managed to say, when I had partially recovered.

'Yes, darling,' she said, 'If only I'd known.'

'I'm sorry,' I said, 'but we never seemed to talk, at least, not about…..'

'She told me a lot of things,' Roni said, nibbling my ear-lobe, and snuggling closer, the soft material sensual against me. 

'Things?'

'Yes, things. I think our lives are due for a change or two.'

She wouldn't be drawn on just what Hazel had said, or what changes she envisaged, and we drifted off to sleep, entwined together.

When I awoke, though, I patted the bed alongside – it was empty. I showered, dressed and went downstairs. Since Hazel had been with us, I no longer slouched down in my tatty robe; it seemed better to look presentable.

The two were having breakfast in th kitchen.

'Coffee?' asked Roni, and got awkwardly to her feet to get the percolator. Awkwardly, because, as I saw to my astonishment, she was dressed in a black skirt so tight she could hardly move. It was real 'restraint' gear, a broad band at the knee-length hem which was tightened with a big silver buckle. She also wore black patent heels at least twice as high as any I had seen her in. She saw my surprise and laughed. 'Do you like my skirt, Steve?' she asked.

'Do you like wearing it?' I rejoined.

'Mmmm, it makes me feel very sexy, and the corset too.'

'Corset?'

She lifted the hem of her ribbed cotton top, to reveal that her waist, already narrow, was pulled in cruelly by a black, whaleboned corset. When she spun around, I saw that it was laced up tightly.

'Hazel must have helped you with that,' I said, glancing at our guest, who was sipping her coffee and smiling at me.

'She's helped us a great deal,' said Roni, 'made me see the light, so to speak.'

I didn't question her as to that last statement – things were becoming clearer by the minute.

There was no hurry, as it was Sunday, and the shops opened late. Roni had told me she'd like us to go shopping together some days ago. As I was finishing breakfast, Hazel stood to start clearing the table, and my eyes took in her bare legs, which she had scarcely exhibited before. God, they were lovely! She wore a miniskirt, a flared and pleated little tartan job, making her look like an erotic voyeur's version of a schoolgirl, further accentuated by a transparent white blouse, buttoned up the back, to allow an uninterrupted view of her lacy white half-bra, nipples barely hidden by the lace frill at its top. Her shoes were white stiletto-heeled sandals, and a silver ankle-chain was a pretty accessory.

'You look gorgeous,' I told her, when Roni was out of earshot.

She smiled gently. 'I am yours to command.'

My prick rose unbidden as she spoke. Did she mean that, apropos of our dicussion a couple of days ago, or was she teasing me?

She showed me her answer, slowly and deliberately bending over the kitchen counter right in front of me, looking over her shoulder into my eyes as she did so, and letting the very tip of her tongue protrude from between her slightly open, even white teeth. Her skirt wasn't all that short, as miniskirts go, but she knew it would ride up sufficiently as she bent over to afford me an enticing view of her shaven pussy.

'You forgot your panties,' I pointed out.

'Yes, Steve,' she replied simply, and stood up straight, just as my wife returned, hobbling into the kitchen, her skirt restricting her paces to little, mincing ones, tottering just a little on her heels.

We left the car in the big Commercial Centre's underground car-park. As soon as we emerged from the lift (Roni said they couldn't manage the escalator in their heels) I saw people – men especially – gazing hungrily at my two companions. Christ, but they were incredibly sexy. Hazel was an enticing 'Lolita' in her tartan miniskirt and transparent blouse, and the mere thought that she was without panties, her shaven pussy inches away from full view, was enough to set my cock pulsing. Roni, on the other hand, was an erotic vision, her cruelly tight skirt and ultra-high heels giving the whole world a signal: here is a girl who enjoys suffering, who will willingly endure and embrace discomfort. Hazel walked along between us, and when I took her slim hand in mine, she offered her other one to Roni. Everyone must have wondered what our relationship was, and I enjoyed the experience.

'Let's go and have a coffee,' said Hazel, 'we should make a few plans.'

When we sat in the big open café area, eyes upon us from all around, it was Hazel who spoke first.

'As you both know, I am a psychiatrist,' she said, 'but that doesn't mean I want to tell you what to do. Quite the reverse, in fact; I know that, by my very nature, I am a submissive. If you've read "O" you'll know that the submissive, according, anyway, to the book, is really in control.' She looked from me to Roni, to see what effect her words were having, then went on, 'There's another book, supposedly by a Jean de Berg, but really by a woman. In it, a couple take a young girl as their sex-slave.' She smiled and said, 'You should read it.'


Revealing Roni Ch. 02



This tale will make more sense if you've read part 1. Everyone in it is over 18.




In the few months that had passed since Hazel came to live with us, and since our fortunate alliance with James and Karen had started, our lives had changed considerably. Now Roni and Hazel both wore long, silky nightgowns whenever we were at home for the evening, and Hazel's willing status as our slave was underlined not only by the silver-studded collar she wore with pride, but by the fact that we shackled her ankles with a length of heavy silver-plated chain, so that she was obliged to shuffle along, dragging the chain under the hem of her gown. Every couple of weeks or so, we swapped her for Karen's lovely slave Indira, just for the night. The Indian girl had an insatiable appetite for punishment, and Roni, in particular, whipped her brutally, but she invariably begged for more, until I was concerned that we had hurt her terribly. 

Meanwhile, Hazel, whose need for pain was more moderate, spent much of the time in bed with both James and Karen, of whom she confessed she had become very fond.

But when she returned, Hazel was as caring as ever, and often slept between the two of us. When we went out together, the girls often wore eye-catching 'restraint' clothing – Roni's amazingly tight skirt, with a buckled belt at its hem, coupled with her needle-heeled sandals, turned lots of heads in the shopping precinct, and Hazel sometimes wore an elasticated long dress that fitted her like a glove, and showed plainly that she wore no underwear beneath it at all. At home in the evenings, when the girls wore their nightgowns, I had taken to wearing a long maroon silk robe Roni had made for me. The feel of it next to my skin was just another reason why I had an almost permanent erection, reviving memories of my old fetish.

But, as with everything in life, we all agreed one evening, that a bit of variety would do no harm. There were several possibilities. Our very public excursions had led to some interesting encounters, and as we sat talking about them, I wrote a list of the ones I thought may lead to something, and suggested we might throw a 'slumber party' for them. As I wrote, I couldn't help glancing at my two lovely girls, and wondering how I could possibly want more. Roni's long black hair glowed with health, and Hazel's pointed breasts strained against the thin silk of her nightie, as a tiny smile played on her luscious lips. But I knew that nothing can ever stand still, and a party could be quite exciting.

My list read:-

The blonde assistant in the shoe-shop.

The black waitress, Ramona, in our favourite coffee bar.

Tanya and Mike, the interesting couple who ran the salon where Karen had sent Roni to have her nails done.

Shireen and Sam, a couple who lived next door, and seemed to take an interest in us.

And Goran, a Serbian guy who serviced our car.

'Well,' said Roni, 'that's few to be going on with, but where do we start?'

'At the beginning?'

'The blonde? But we don't even know her name!'

'Then let's go buy shoes tomorrow,' I suggested. I didn't have to worry about work these days – my aged aunt had left me a generous bequest, so that I could now work part-time, as and when I wanted.

'I thought you might choose her,' Roni was saying, 'saw the way you looked at her.'

'Hey, I saw her first,' said Hazel, grinning.

'She saw you,' I corrected her, and we all laughed.

Next day, then, we walked into the shoe-store and sought the blonde, pretending to examine the stock while she finished with another customer. Roni was wearing her severe skirt, a tight black jumper and black stilettos, while Hazel was in her 'little girl' role, in a pleated tartan miniskirt and white blouse, with white high-heeled sandals and seamed stockings.

Eventually the girl came up to us and asked if there was anything she could help us with. She was as pretty as I remembered, petite, and small-featured, with lovely blue eyes, her soft blond hair swept back into a pony-tail, trailing way down her back. She wore a white blouse, emblazoned with the name of the store-chain, a straight green skirt and Dr Scholl's. 

I'm sure you could,' I said pointedly. She looked away, embarrassed.

'Don't take any notice of my husband,' said Roni, 'you may remember we brought my young friend here once before, and you found her some shoes.'

'Yes, I remember,' said the girl.

'Well, we've promised her some more, as she's been good,' Roni went on, 'that is, if you have something suitable.' 

'What sort of shoes are you looking for?' the assistant asked Hazel, but Roni leapt in the answer for her. 'Something with very high heels, and I don't mind if they're uncomfortable for her.'

The blonde looked at her, her mouth open, revealing rows of lovely white teeth. She looked about to speak, but said nothing and turned to go in search of the shoes.

When she returned, with a couple of boxes, Roni and I were sat on a bench, Hazel between us, and the girl knelt at her feet. As she did so, I noticed her store badge, proclaiming her name as Anita.

As she slid a platform-soled, needle-heeled shoe onto Hazel's slender foot, I fondled her knee from one side, while Roni stroked her bestockinged thigh at the other.

'Is that comfortable?' asked Anita, but she was looking from one to the other of us as she addressed Hazel.

'They'll be fine,' Roni replied for her, 'a little discomfort is good for her, isn't it, darling?' 

'Yes, mistress,' said Hazel, quietly, playing her role perfectly, I thought.

'We'll take them,' Roni told the little blonde, then, in a lower voice, 'If you're free, we'd like to invite you for lunch. Would you like that?'

Anita looked up, startled. 'Er...well, yes. Yes, of course, thank you, Mrs....'

'Roni,' supplied my wife, 'my name is Roni. What time do you get off?'

'At one.'

'Then we'll see you in the Red Lion at ten past, OK?'

In the hour that we had before then, the girls bought some jewellery, and we were esconsed at a corner table by five past one. On the dot of ten past, I looked up from my beer and saw a very different-looking Anita weaving her way through the tables. She had let her hair down, and her pretty face was now framed by slightly wavy hair, which cascaded thickly down her back, practically to her waist. She had put on more make-up, and her lovely eyes were lined in mascara. She had changed her uniform blouse for a pale green silk one, and her Dr Scholl's for a pair of patent stilettos.

'Anita,' greeted Roni, 'do come and sit down, and Steve will get you a drink.'

She edged along the bench to make room for the nervous-looking girl between herself and Hazel. When I returned from the bar with her glass of Chardonnet, however, they were all talking, but I couldn't help noticing that Anita kept glancing sideways at one or the other of them. She was still decidedly nervous. Then Roni threw caution to the winds. 'Anita,' she said, stroking the girl's slender arm as she spoke, 'we invited you because we thought you seemed..........er, interested in us. We see the way you seem to be curious about us. But also because we all find you very attractive.' She allowed silence to reign then, and let her words sink in. Anita's eyes flicked onto mine, then sideways at Hazel, and back to Roni. The spell was broken when a waitress came to take our order. That accomplished, and a succulent roast consumed, we all relaxed with another glass of wine, and Anita suddenly said, 'Do you really think I'm attractive?'

Hazel answered huskily, 'Yes, darling, I do, anyway.' Then she looked down at her hands as if afraid she had spoken out of turn. I found Anita's shapely knee under the table, and fondled it. She showed no sign of flinching or drawing away. I glanced at Roni and nodded slightly.

'Perhaps you'd like to come to our slumber party next Saturday night, Anita?' she said.

The blonde glanced at each of us, and replied, in a small voice, 'I...I'd love to, but what shall I wear?'

'Whatever you go to bed in,' I said.

'But I go to bed naked.' She giggled prettily as she said it.

'Then it's no problem. But seriously, try and find pyjamas or a nightie, and make yourself beautiful,' said Roni.

Her blue eyes shone at me, as she said, 'I'll really look forward to it, then,' and her hand covered mine on her knee.

As we said goodbye to Anita, and left the bar, Roni said, 'Tanya's salon is just around the corner, why don't we call and invite them too?'

Their shop door was open, and when we walked in, Tanya was sitting behind a desk, watching a screen, which lit up her face, and giggling to herself. As we entered, she made a sudden guilty sort of movement and turned off the screen.

'Oh, it's you!' she said, 'I probably didn't need to turn this thing off, then.'

'Come on, Tanya, you know me,' said my wife, 'what's so fascinating?'

'It's what we call a "promotional film for the enlightened," to promote my nails,' she said.

'A film about nails? What's so amazing?'

'Like to see it?'

'Sure.'

'Then come around here.'

We trooped around to the space behind her desk, and she re-set the DVD. A screen announced the name of the shop, and there was a warning for under-18's, then the scene switched to a plush bedroom, and on walked a slim woman, dressed only in lace-topped black stockings, black stilettos, garterbelt and black lace panties. Only her lower half could be seen. Making sure the camera saw her very long, blue-enamelled nails, she ran her hands up and down her thighs in a suggestive manner. Both of her pinkies were decorated. One had a small stone set near its tip, the other had a tiny ring inserted, with a little gold chain dangling from it, a jewel at its extremity.

The woman's hands went to the waistband of the panties, then her thumbs hooked underneath, and she slowly slid the flimsy garment down her thighs, revealing a neat, hairless slit. The camera followed her faithfully as she walked seductively to the bed, and sat on its edge. Slowly, she parted her legs, and her nails traced her flat stomach, then moved to her labia, as she spread her legs wide. Two fingers of one hand parted the labia, revealing her glistening pink cunt, then the extravagantly-nailed middle finger of her other hand was thrust deep into her vagina. Throughout, a fascinating detail was the ring and dangling decoration that depended from her prominent clitoris. The screen went blank.

'Wow,' I remarked.

'You like it, Steve?' asked Tanya.

'She's quite something,' I said.

'Glad you liked me,' she said, waving long nails just like those on the film.

'You?'

'You surprised?' 

'You could say so.'

'Would you like to see the earlier film we shot?'

'Yes.'

She slipped in another DVD, and pressed 'play.'

Now they saw different nails, bright red this time, each with a tiny filigree decoration near its tip, unzipping a pair of beige chinos. One hand went straight into the open fly, and pulled out an already erect cock. Smoothly, using both hands to stroke the rampant weapon in an amazingly sensual way, she had me, watching, hard as a rock. Then, quite suddenly, the owner of rod stiffened and shot a prodigious load of cum straight into the camera's lens.

'Fuck me!' I exclaimed.

'With pleasure,' said Tanya, grinning, 'when?'

'OK, you two,' said Roni, and proceeded to invite Tanya and Mike, who had quietly joined us, to our party. They were a lovely couple, in their early forties, both slim and fit, Tanya with short, jet-black hair, Mike bald as a billiard ball.

In need of a coffee anyway, we dropped into our favourite coffee bar to invite Ramona, the curvaceous black waitress. She treated to her usual display of white teeth, contrasting with her coal-black skin, and said she'd be delighted to come along.

When we got home, Roni and Hazel decided to take the car in to the workshop – and to invite the hunk Goran to the party. I doubted they both needed to go, but kept quiet. The doorbell rang soon after they had gone. It was Shireen, our Eurasian neighbour.

'Roni not in?' she enquired, as I drank in the sight of her. She had dark skin, darker than that of Indira, James' and Karen's slave, and lustrous dark eyes. Her hair was a shining black mane, and she was dressed in a kingfisher-blue silky, pleated minidress, mid-thigh length, without a belt so that it hung from the thrust of her obviously unfettered breasts to its hem. Her legs were bare, and on her feet were sandals which laced halfway up her slender calves.

'No, Roni and Hazel have just taken the car to the garage,' I told her.

'I'll just have to make do with you, then, Steve, won't I?' Her eyes teased me as she deliberately brushed me with her tits, sidling past me into our entrance hall.

'What can I do for you?' I asked. Like fuck your brains out.

'I don't know, really, it's just that Roni shouted out to me that she wanted to ask me something when I saw her last night.'

'I suppose she wanted to ask you to our party,' I said, and told her about the party we'd planned.

'I can't wait,' said Shireen. She was stood with her back to the dining table.

'Can I get you a drink or something?' I asked.

'No drink, but something,' she said.

'Something?'

'Yes, please,' she smiled, daintily picking up the hem of her dress and sliding it up her long legs, her eyes not leaving mine, 'I should like to be fucked, hard!'

I needed no further invitation. She was feather-light when I lifted her onto the edge of the table, and she opened her legs wide, as my raging erection tented my chinos. She had my zipper down in an instant, and guided me into her hot, wet vagina. She had agile cunt-muscles, gripping and releasing me alternately as I impaled her, thrusting to the very neck of her womb, then almost pulling out, as I fucked her, making my strokes as long and slow as I could. She heightened my pleasure by moaning with each one, and wrapped her legs around my arse. My hands found her small, pointed breasts, and our lips locked, her tongue as busy in my mouth as my cock was in her grasping cunt.

I kept going for longer than I would have thought possible, but then the desperate need to cum overtook me, and I gave one mighty surging thrust and spent my load deep inside her. We stayed as we were, on the edge of the table, until our breathing returned to something like normal.

'My, Steve, That was a wonderful fuck. Thank you,' she eventually found the energy to say, 'I'm so glad I came round. By the way, I saw Roni and Hazel go out.'

I laughed. 'And where's Sam?'

'Working,' she said. Sam was a taxi driver, and worked strange hours.

'You'll come to the party then?' I asked her.

'Try and stop me.'

Later, I told Roni that Shireen had been around and that they would come to the party. She smiled knowingly. 'Did she scream a lot?'

'Just a little.'

'Dirty bastard!' she said.

'And "Gorgeous Goran?"' I taunted.

'Mmmm,' she replied, 'now that will be something else! Come on, Hazel, help me change.'

I knew that was a none-too-subtly coded invitation to make love, and left them to it. After all, I needed time to recover from Shireen's visit.

The party promised to be quite something. Karen, James, and their girl Indira had been invited, but I looked forward especially to renewing my acquaintance with the lovely Anita, but also with Tanya – and her nails – not to mention the exotic charms of Ramona.

We had prepared the house as much as possible – after all, we should be a dozen or more, depending on whether two more couples Hazel had invited actually came.

It was past eight when the doorbell announced the first arrivals. Hazel opened the door to Karen, James and Indira, all wearing overcoats to cover their nightwear. I watched as casually as possible while Hazel relieved them of their coats. Karen's willowy body was encased in a long peach silk gown, very tight around her ankles, backless, with a halter-neck. Her hair was tied up in an elaborate knot, and she radiated sexuality, even though she was modestly covered. James wore short silk pyjamas, and drew an admiring murmur from Roni, who now stood behind me. Then I gasped as Indira divested herself of her cloak. She was clad in a baby-doll nighties of the purest white, with a white fur trim at hem, neckline and the cuffs of its voluminous sleeves. The panties that went with it were completely sheer, tied at her flanks with broad ribbons, and the dark lips of her pussy were quite visible through the flimsy material, whenever she moved. Like her mistress, she wore fluffy high-heeled bedroom mules.

God, I thought, if this is an example of what everyone was going to wear, I'd have a permanent hard-on all evening.

They arrived thick and fast after that. A surprise was one of the couples that Hazel had invited – they turned out to be a pair of attractive young Lesbians, one slightly overweight with short blonde hair, wearing electric blue silk pyjamas, the other a stylish brunette, dressed in a mid-thigh-length broderie anglaise nightdress. Sam and Shireen came in, dashing around from their next-door home without bothering to cover up. Sam wore an old-fashioned nightshirt, and Shireen was beautiful in a long black silk nightgown with spaghetti-straps. Ramona was stunning in contrasting white satin, and then came Tanya, who had everyone staring when she appeared in a long black nylon shift, completely transparent, so that every detail of her body, right down to the well-tended triangle of black pubic hair, could be seen. I noticed that she had had her nipples pierced, and they were decorated with a gold cross-bar, from which depended, suspended from each end, a little stone. The triangles so formed seemed to mirror her bush. She carried a black Gladstone bag, like a doctor's.

Roni and Hazel, both clad in little silk slips, Roni's black and Hazel's white, laid out the food, and we all wondered if Anita would show up, giving her up for lost as ten o'clock approached. The other pair Hazel had invited turned up, a married couple in their thirties, looking thoroughly embarrassed in rather staid nightwear, and then came a timid-sounding ring on the bell. I was nearest the door, and opened it to Anita, clutching an imitation mink coat about her. 

'I'm so pleased to see you,' I said, interrupting her apologies for lateness, 'let me take your coat.'

She turned away from me so that I could lift the coat from her slim shoulders, then turned slowly to face me. She was absolutely adorable in an enveloping scarlet cloak, gathered at the neck, with slits through which she could put her arms. The translucent organdie cloak was finely pleated and came down to her knees.

'Little Red Riding-hood,' I said, kissing her on both cheeks. The numbers were complete. When I led Anita into our big lounge, now cleared of furniture save for all the sofas and chairs around the sides, and a long table on which Hazel and Roni had laid out food and drink, Roni stood in the middle and clapped her hands for quiet.

'Welcome everyone,' she said, 'I can see you're all ready for bed.'

Everybody laughed, but she held up her hand for silence, and went on, 'You are. As I said, ready for bed, and, besides sleeping, what else do we do in bed?'

'Fart,' shouted Sam, causing more laughter, which Roni joined in, then, asking everyone to listen again, said, 'We – most of us, anyway – make love.' 

Now there was an expectant silence. 'That's what I want tonight to be, a celebration of love. I'm going to put on some music, and I want to see everyone dancing, then, in about half an hour, we'll have some food, then I have some entertainment in mind. Let's dance!' 

We warmed up with a bit of gentle rock, then Roni dimmed the lights, and set the scene for the rest of the evening with a slow, sensuous rumba, leading Hazel onto the floor, and taking her into her arms. In seconds they were kissing, watched by all and sundry, until a trickle of people started to join in. Karen and James didn't take long, and Goran extended a hand to the lovely Indira, whilst I sought out Anita. She melted into my arms a soon as we hit the dancefloor, and my hands drifted down her back, stroking her soft buttocks through her diaphanous cloak. That she wore no panties was obvious. I bent to kiss her and she responded enthusiastically. My prick leapt against her near-naked belly, as the nipples of her firm young breasts hardened against my chest. Glancing around, I saw that Shireen was dancing with Tanya's husband Mike, while Sam was clearly enjoying the erotic touch of the gorgeous Tanya, the pick of the bunch, I thought, in her transparent black gown.But my attention wasn't to be diverted long from Anita, and my hands kneaded her buttocks, pulling her against me, so that my erection ground into her. Surreptitiously, she dropped a hand between our bodies, and stroked my rod through the vent in my pyjamas, but I took her wrist, and she laughed lightly when I warned her that I should cum in an instant if she didn't desist. She released me, and whispered in my ear, 'You'd really like to fuck me, wouldn't you, Steve?'




Revealing Roni Ch. 02



'I'd love to.'

'When?'

'When we get half a chance.'

We stayed together for three slow numbers, my erection showing no sign of relenting, the we were split up by Karen and James. James had been watching Anita as he danced with his wife – of that I was aware – but it was no chore to have Karen's long, slim body pressed to me, her ultra-tight skirt preventing her from moving much.

'You surely don't wear that to bed?' I asked her.

'Sometimes, darling,' she said, 'you know I love restraint.'

'But in bed?'

'I have had an orgasm without being touched,' she breathed, 'or touching myself. Comes in handy, that, when he's away.'

I could well believe it – she was the sexiest woman I'd ever known. My erection returned, as another pair of breasts jiggled around within range of my hands. God, it was hard to bear.

After a few more dances, during which I exchanged Karen for baby-doll-clad Indira, while the young stud Goran got a grip on Ramona, Roni stopped the music, and asked everyone to be seated, while she wheeled our big TV onto the floor, where everyone could see it.

'OK Tanya,' she said. 

Tanya stood up. 'The video you are about to see is a promo for my nails. I hope you enjoy it. But after we have eaten, I am offering just three free piercings to the first people who come forward. Now, before you all rush, let me say that they will have to be tongues or navels. I can only do pussies at my place.' That raised a laugh, but nobody seemed to be in a hurry to come forward. 

'Hazel,' I said, go on, I'd like you to have your tongue done.'

Obediently she stepped out to where Tanya was, and was soon joined by Indira, who Karen had impelled onto the floor. The slimmer of the two Lesbians followed, looking embarrassed, and they all pored over a card of studs that Tanya produced from her Gladstone bag, deciding what to be decorated with. 

Meanwhile, Tanya handed a DVD to Roni, and we sat and watched an edited version of the films we had seen at her shop, complete with music and commentary. Anita, sat beside me, watched with rapt attention, and when I glanced around, even the apparently staid couple Hazel had invited were watching intently, her hand in the lap of his striped pyjamas, stroking quietly. 

After some twenty minutes of picking away at the food, and talking in little knots of people, Roni clapped her hands and asked the three who were to be pierced to follow her and Tanya into the breakfast room, then, while they were being tended, she put on some music again, and I danced briefly with Shireen, loving the feel of her liquid movements under the black silk gown. 'We must make love again some time soon, Steve,' she said. I was in total agreement.

Quite quickly, the newly-pierced girls showed up again, and Roni again asked for our attention. After doing a little publicity bit for Tanya, and telling everyone where her shop was, she said, 'Now it's time for some fun. I'm assuming you're all broad-minded here. If anyone thinks they may be offended by my little game of forfeits, they ought to go now.' She paused, and no-one moved. 'OK then, what I want to do is play silly childish games. When anyone fails, they will have to pay a forfeit, or pay fifty pounds to Oxfam. The choice is yours. I shall announce the next forfeit each time we restart. You all know this game, I'm sure – it's called "passing the orange," so form a circle, please.' There were groans as Roni produced a big orange, and gave it to Hazel, who placed it under her chin and took her place in the circle next to the Lesbian couple.

'Right,' said my wife, 'the first forfeit will be three hard cane-strokes on bare buttocks, with everyone watching.' There were a few gasps, as Roni looked from face to face, but nobody left. There were some laughs as the music played, and the orange was manoeuvred from chin to chin, then, suddenly, it was rolling on the floor, and everyone craned to see who was the culprit. Then Indira owned up, and Roni made a show of asking her if she wanted to take the forfeit, or pay to charity.

'I'll take the strokes, please,' said Indira.

Roni put a chair in the middle of the room. 'Drop your panties, and kneel on this,' she said, and Indira, delectable in her baby-doll, was soon in position, her olive-skinned rear prettily raised, as Roni fetched a thin cane, and swished it about for effect. Then, without further preliminaries, she drew her arm right back, and, using all the force she could muster, lashed Indira's arse, making the girl squirm, and raising an instant red welt across both cheeks. But the Indian girl uttered no sound as she took her three strokes, and, when Roni had done, and stroked her damaged buttocks, she squirmed again, this time more noticeably, and gave a little moan, which may have been pain, or, then again, pleasure.

As Roni restarted the music, she said, 'Next forfeit, folks: the lucky girl takes this into the loo and returns with it deep inside her – just where, is up to you – and walks around the room three times.' She was holding up a long, thin, pink dildo.

The orange did the rounds, amidst giggles and ribald comments, then it was on the floor again. It looked as if Anita had dropped it, but Goran came forward.

'Oh shit,' said Roni, 'never thought it would be a guy!'

'It's OK,' said Goran, 'I'll do it.' He took the dildo from her and disappeared into the bathroom, in a babble of comments, and some nervous laughter. In no time at all, however, he was back, walking a little gingerly in his short silk pyjamas, but wearing a fixed smile. He did his circuits to some applause, and went back into the bathroom. He was back equally quickly, however, and handed the dildo to Roni. 'I've washed it,' he said, to more laughter.

Roni started the music again. 'The next culprit – of either sex – will do a sexy striptease!' I thought Karen deliberately dropped the orange – she was a real exhibitionist

'But it won't be much of a striptease,' she said, 'I've nothing else on!'

'I'm sure you'll entertain us all,' replied Roni. 

Karen took to the floor as Roni played the old Jane Birkin number, 'Je t'aime,' and she looked born to the part of stripper, running her hands all over her slender body, though she could move only a little in the tight skirt of her silk gown. As the music got to the 'heavy breathing' bit, she reached behind her neck and unfastened the bow which held her dress up, but only let it down, uncovering her small breasts, very slowly, then cupped her own breasts, reaching a long tongue down to lick her nipples, then tweaking them between thumb and forefinger. Tantalisingly slowly, she now pushed the dress down over her hips, down, down until, in a sudden whisper of silk it fell to the floor. Even then she had to reach down to get her feet clear of the gown, and she reached for an upholstered chair in which to sit down to the task. Soon her feet were free, clad in the high-heeled bedroom mules, and, still sitting on the chair, she slowly parted her legs, her hands covering her pussy as she did so. She took one hand away, raising it to her mouth, where she licked her fingers in a very suggestive fashion, then, opening her slim legs as wide as she could, she suddenly uncovered her shaven pussy. There was a muted gasp from the audience as the hand she had licked moved to her pussy, opening her labia so that the glistening, excited wet pink of her cunt was clearly visible. I was hard as a rock by now, and, glancing around, I doubted I was the only one. As Karen scooped up her dress and strutted naked from the floor, spontaneous applause broke out. It wasn't really a striptease, but it was extremely sexy. The guy who I thought a little staid had his head thrown back, and his wife was doing something with a handkerchief in his lap, while the two Lesbians were kissing passionately at my side.

Once again Roni put on the music for the 'orange game' and announced, 'The next forfeit will be six strokes of the "cat" on the bare back.' 

'Mmmm,' muttered Hazel, audibly, but Roni took her hand – I was sure they had an agreement not to participate, but I knew there was nothing Hazel loved more than to have her back whipped, at least by Roni.

In the event it was the chubby Lesbian who dropped the orange. 

'Forfeit or pledge?' demanded my wife, and I thought how lucky I was to have her – and Hazel – to live with, as she stood there, nipples jutting through the soft silk of her slip.

'Oh, I'll take the strokes,' she said, echoing Indira, who I had seen her eyeing in what looked like a predatory way.

'Slip your jacket off, darling,' said Roni, pushing a cushion into the centre of the floor, 'and kneel on that.' The girl, whose name I learned was Bridget, did as she was told, and I noticed that she had a pair of impressive boobs, heavy but firm-looking. 

'Put your hands behind your head,' instructed Roni, bringing over the many-stranded leather flogger.

She laid into the strokes with all the force she could bring to bear, but Bridget neither cried out nor did more than flinch slightly, as the cruel leather strands bit into her white flesh, leaving her back beetroot red, so that Roni asked Hazel to go and get some cream to ease the pain. But Bridget thanked Roni profusely, and walked proudly back to where her partner was sitting, looking equally proud.

Roni was again calling for silence. 'We now come to the fifth and final forfeit, and what I hope will be the piéce de résistance of our little entertainment. Our final victim will have to consent to make love in front of everyone. This victim will not, I repeat not, have the option of a payment to charity, so I suggest that anyone whose sensibilities are going to be damaged by this, doesn't carry on with the game – and it goes without saying that anyone who will be offended by the spectacle, should leave now. I ought to mention, just before we start, that if the lucky victim is female, Steve will oblige – if male, Hazel will perform. I'll give you a moment to let all this sink in, then we'll start.'

A buzz of conversation went around, and people gradually started to make their way out into the ring of participants, but I notice that the two Lesbians remained seated. Nobody made any move to leave, however, and even the older couple took the floor. I wondered whether I should be able to make love in front of all these people, if it fell to me. I mouthed silently across the room at Roni, 'You're a bitch!'

'I know, darling,' she mouthed back. 

No sooner had the orange started its rounds than it looked as if the woman in flannel pyjamas (I still hadn't learned her name) looked about to drop it, but I sighed a big sigh of relief when she recovered it, and passed it on to Anita, who looked deliberately in my direction, and pretended to drop the orange, then passed it successfully on to Sam. He passed it on to Shireen, who managed to get it to Mike, and he attempted to pass it to Tanya, who somehow contrived to drop the offending fruit to the floor.

'You're going to have to endure my husband, then, Tanya,' said Roni, extending a hand to lead her into the middle of the floor, where Hazel had already laid a thin mattress.

If I could fuck anyone in public, I thought, it's Tanya!

I sat cross-legged on the mattress, while Tanya hammed it up, dancing to a smoochy number, those amazing fingernails stroking her body through the black transparent nightgown. I glanced away, as I could feel myself getting more excited than was good.

Striped Pyjamas was trying to look as if he wasn't stroking a massive erection, and Anita's look was hard to read – jealousy? I hoped so, because I wanted to fuck her before long. But Tanya grabbed my attention, as she stood over me, and ever so slowly, pulled up the hem of her nightdress, up past her slender white thighs, looking down at me, for my reaction as her pussy came into view, her pierced clit lewdly sporting a dangling thingumy, like a key-fob or an ear-ring – she must have been aware of it whenever she walked about, keeping her constantly aroused, I thought. She held her gown up around her waist with one hand, while the other went to her pussy, parting her labia with two fingers, to reveal her wet, pink gash.

My worries about not being able to make love with an audience floated away, and I pulled my cock out through the slit in my silk pyjamas, and showed her the extent of my desire. She lowered herself slowly down, straddling me, until the crown of my weapong was just touching the very portals of her cunt.

'I've been waiting for this for a long time, Steve,' she whispered, and lowered herself infinitely slowly, impaling her gorgeous body on me, and moaning with pleasure as I penetrated her right to the hilt. It would be fairer to say that she pentrated herself, and she started to fuck me, dictating our rhythm, groaning with each long, slow stroke.

'Fuck me, yes, Steve, fuck me!' she breathed, 'and soon, you can come to my house and whip me – whip me until I bleed, then fuck my arse!'

That did it – I could hold it no longer as her whispered words hit home, and I thrust upwards deep into her hospitable cunt, and shot a mighty load of hot cum into her very soul. It was a wonderful fuck, and a round of applause from the people watching – at least, those with hands free to clap – told me it had been appreciated. 

As I recovered, and looked around, I saw that Mike's bald head was lodged between Indira's dusky legs, while Sam and Shireen had struck up a more than friendly relationship with James and Karen, while Goran was energetically fucking Hazel on top of the now-empty food-table. Roni was kissing Anita passionately, and the Lesbian couple were engaged in their own affair on a sofa, assisted, to my surprise, by Ramona. Striped pyjamas and his wife were embracing nicely, I thought. I was satisfied to see everyone happy.

Clearing up next morning was a time-consuming business. Shireen and Sam came over to help, and I then took them all out for an Indian meal. We said goodbye to Shireen and Sam then, as they wanted to do some Sunday shopping, and went home.

As we arrived, I saw a figure sitting on our porch steps. We got closer, and I realised it was Anita, dressed in her store-uniform miniskirt and blouse, looking red about the eyes, as if she had been crying.

I extended a hand to her, and pulled her gently to her feet. 'What's wrong, Anita?' I asked her.

'I don't know,' she said, sounding like a little girl lost, 'It's just that last night I was so happy, dancing with you, then making love with Roni, but then I have to go back to my empty flat, and...and, well, you've got the other girl...'

'Hazel,' I told her, 'she's our friend, and lives with us.'

'I know, but...but, well, your neighbour told me you whip her and make her wear chains, and...and...'

'Oh, Anita, you're surely not jealous, are you? It doesn't suit everyone, you know.'

She looked down at her shoes. 'It would suit me,' she said, in a tiny voice, 'I would love you to hurt me.'

Shit, first Tanya, and now Anita – the party had certainly turned out to have interesting consequences, but things promised to get complicated.

'Come in, and have a cup of tea, while I talk to my wife,' I said, and she forced a smile as I led her indoors. 

Hazel made a brew, while I sought out Roni, and told her the sad state of Anita.

'She's lovely, isn't she?' was Roni's reaction.

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'I don't know, Steve. It would be a shame to ignore her plight, though, wouldn't it?' She had an evil sort of smile on her face as she said this. 'After all, we've a spare room.'

'But what would Hazel think if we took her in?'

'If you remember, Hazel claimed to have seen her first!'

It was true, she had said as much when we had talked about inviting her to the party.

'Hmmm,' I mused, so we're going to have her then?'

'In all senses of the verb, I think.'

'I'd like to mention it to Hazel, at least,' I said, and when Roni nodded, I went out to where they were having a cup of tea, and asked Hazel for a private word. She agreed with alacrity, but said, 'I hope you'll introduce her to our rituals?'

'Of course. Let me have a word with her now.'

When I told Anita of our decision, she was overjoyed. 'When can I move in?' she asked.

We agreed she would come the following weekend, giving us time to prepare a room for her, and she skipped off down the drive happily.

During the week, we cleaned the spare bedroom thoroughly, bought new soft furnishings, and attended to Anita's wardrobe, and Hazel went out to buy her nightgowns and slips, shoes, stockings and a corset, whilst I was charged with buying a collar like the one I had put on Hazel, and chains and restraints. Roni got busy on her sewing mchine, and, taking a guess at Anita's size, made her a few things, including a skirt like the one she herself loved to wear, so tight she could scarcely sit down, and walk only with tiny paces.

When she arrived at our door on the next Saturday afteernoon, explaining that she had the afternoon off, she was bright-eyed and eager, dressed, I thought, deliberately like a schoolgirl in pleated tartan miniskirt and white blouse, her hair done in pigtails, which fell down her back. But her shoes were not schoolgirl-issue at all, but very high white stilettos. I led her indoors, knowing I should have to fuck her very soon. Hazel took her up to show her her room, and I heard her squeal with joy a couple of times, as she saw what we had got for her.

They were gone a good long time, then I heard their footsteps on the stairs, and Hazel led Anita in. She was dressed in a white, fur-trimmed silk negligee, and her hair was now loose, cascading soft and thick down her back.

'Roni's coming to prepare her in a minute,' said Hazel, and, sure enough, Roni, dressed, like Hazel, in a simple skirt and blouse, came through the door, carrying a big hold-all. 

She walked straight up to Anita, and untied the ribbon that fastened her negligee, then slid it off her shoulders, so that it fell, in a whisper of silk, to the floor. 

'Pick it up!' she said, and when Anita was slow to do so, fetched her a stinging slap on her cheek. When the blonde had picked up and folded the garment, tears sparkling in her lovely eyes, Roni had produced a collar, just like the one Hazel wore, from her bag. Wordlessly, she clipped it around the girl's neck, then fished out an ornamental silver chain, which she hung loosely about Anita's waist. Addressing Hazel, she said, 'I've bought one of these for you too, darling.' 

Next came leather ankle restraints, which she told Hazel to fit around Anita's ankles, then she handed her a heavy length of chain, to shackle her ankles.

'Go up to your room first,' Roni told Anita, 'and put on one of the gowns on the right of your wardrobe, then put your chain on, and come down to dinner in an hour.'

Roni and I went off to get changed as well – Hazel went to prepare the meal before she, too, changed into her evening attire.

When I sat down at the table, Hazel, her chain clanking, a purple silk nightdress clinging to her slim figure, came and sat next to me as we watched Anita come self-consciously through into the dining room. She was clad in a black lace sheath, through which her pink nipples poked enticingly, and her waist-chain glinted. Her ankle restraint made her shuffle along, but her expression was proud, almost haughty. My prick leapt, and Hazel smiled as her hand went down to stroke my erection through the silk of my robe. Roni, seated across from us, dressed in a flaming red transparent nightdress, said, 'At this rate, we'll never get to eat. Why don't you go and fetch the dinner in, Hazel?' 

Hazel brushed my cheek with her lips and went to do as she was told.

'Come and sit down, darling,' Roni told Anita, 'after dinner, I think I'd like to introduce you to a little light punishment. Would you agree to that?'




Revealing Roni Ch. 02



'Yes, of course,' said Anita, in a low voice, then, more positively, 'yes, I would like that.' She sat beside me, bringing a musky scent, which somehow complemented her beauty. As Hazel served my dinner, she whispered in my ear, 'You really want her, don't you, Steve?' I nodded.

A little later, I said, 'You're not eating much, Anita – are you nervous?'

'I'm too excited,' she said. I reached over and took her hand, which was cool and smooth.

After coffee, which we took sitting in the lounge, Roni stood, and extended a hand to Anita, who took it and stood beside her – mistress and slave, I thought.

'Kneel on the sofa, darling,' said my wife, and the blonde did so, then Roni lifted the hem of her gown, until her naked buttocks came into view. 

'Spread your legs a little. As much as you can,' said Roni, making no move to take off the girl's chain. She parted her knees as far as she could, her ankles still shackled – she looked the very picture of humiliation as Roni fetched a long, thin cane from the bureau.

'You know I'm going to hurt you, don't you?' she asked

'Yes.'

'I'd like you to masturbate while I cane you – will you do that?'

'Yes.'

'But you may not cum,' added Roni, 'you must save your orgasm, darling.'

'Yes, madam.'

The title came naturally – she hadn't been told what to call Roni at any time, but quite naturally fell into her role.

Roni measured the cane gainst the girl's pristine white buttocks, and I couldn't help but look at her neat, hairless pussy, now displayed between her slightly parted legs. The fingers of her right hand now appeared, touching lightly onto her clit, massaging gently.

Roni drew her arm back, having taken aim, and thrashed Anita's arse with all her strength, causing the girl to writhe in pain, and drawing from her a long, low moan. 

'I think I shall just give you ten strokes,' said Roni, as Anita's busy fingers traced her crack, and I saw that her cunt was getting progressively wetter.

The next stroke fell lower, at the very top of her thighs, and must have stung abominably, as it brought an angry red wheal up on her tender flesh. After the next stroke seared her buttocks, Roni bent and said to her, 'Can you take seven more, my love?'

'Yes, madam.'

She laid about her task, and Anita's busy fingers continued to rub and probe, once sinking deep within her now-soaking cunt, as she squirmed and shuddered between vicious strokes of the cruel cane. Red stripes now laddered her behind, and the backs of her slender thighs.

Roni glanced lovingly at me, but spoke to Anita, as she finished belabouring her. 'My husband is dying to fuck you, my dear. May he?'

'Oh yes, yes please!' said Anita, writhing with pain and desire, obviously close to her climax. I didn't want to keep her waiting. As I stood up and walked over to her, Hazel accompanied m, and lifted my soft silk robe out of the way, giving my rampant rod a little caress, as I came up behind Anita. As My crown touched the very entrance to her pussy, spreading gently her neat lips, she gave a soft gasp. Without further invitation, I speared her, impaled her, thrusting my hard cock deep within her.

'OOOH, STEVE!' she groaned, and I felt her agile cunt-muscles grip and release me as I pounded her. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Roni was sat in the adjacent armchair, the skirt of her gown around her waist, Hazel's head bobbing up and down between her legs, as she watched her husband fucking the blonde newcomer. I couldn't last long, after what I had witnessed, and Anita was also eager to cum, so I simply yelled, 'Oh, Anita, I'm cumming!' and giving one huge thrust, I shot a steaming hot load of spunk deep inside her, thoughtlessly slapping her red-striped buttock as I withdrew, causing her to scream. 

'Hazel, take her up to her room, and soothe her arse, will you? I know you'll enjoy that,' said Roni, and when they had gone, she simply lay back on the sofa, hitched up her gown and spread her legs wide. Still completely knackered after fucking Anita, I needed to rest, but Roni had to be attended to. I went over, sat between her legs and felt her soaking wet cunt. Her hand went to my cock, and slowly but surely, her ministrations started to have an effect. I got down, knelt on the floor and licked the length of her slit, the way I knew she loved, then pushed two fingers into her arsehole. Her moans got to me instantly, and I was suddenly hard as a rock again.

'Oh, fuck me, Steve, fuck me hard,' she groaned, and I slid my sore, red cock into her commodious cunt, deep into her, and began to thrust, driving in and out with my entire length. Our lovemaking was practised and very good, and when she was on the verge of her orgasm, she rammed a finger deep into my arsehole, knowing that I would cum automatically. I didn't dissappoint her.

When we lay together afterwards, she told me she had cum before, watching me fuck Anita. 'I think I shall have her pierced though,' she said, and we agreed to take her on Wednesday, her afternoon off. She could have her nails done as well, we decided. We talked for a while about the piercings she should have, and it was then that Roni first planted the suggestion that we might consider marking Hazel – she had frequently mentioned the famous episode in 'O' where O is branded, and was fascinated by the idea. She was a true pain-slut, in that she took a masochistic delight in being hurt, and was invariably brought to climax while being whipped. I said that I suspected Anita was the same, but Roni was cautious. 'Early days,' she said, 'but you may be right.'

I told her I'd need to think about this branding thing. Whipping was one thing, and didn't leave any permanent marks, but a brand..............

Wednesday came and went, and Anita now sported a coral stud in her tongue, and a little silver ring in her clit, from which dangled a pretty little pendant, with a ruby embedded in it. A matching pendant hung from another piercing in her navel. At the same time we had had Hazel's pussy done. Her clit wasn't prominent enough, so the hood protecting it now wore a ring, heavier than Anita's, from which hung three short silver chains. Both girls said it made them feel sexier, and Anita told me that her clit ring kept her almost permanently aroused. As neither girl could indulge in vaginal sex until their piercings were a few days old, Roni had obliged Anita to wear a butt-plug, and I can up with the idea of an expanding one. We bought the black rubber article from the Sex Shop, and lubricant helped it slip easily into Anita's tight little puckered hole. But then I pumped it up by way of the tube which led to a bulb, and her eyes widened as she gasped in pain as it expanded. When I judged it was fully expanded, we just left it there, and Roni told her not to remove it unless she needed to defecate, after which she had to come and see one of us immediately.

Two nights later, Roni asked Anita if she felt ready to take me in her arsehole. She nodded dumbly, obviously still not sure, but Roni told me she thought the big expanding plug would have eased my passage. After dinner that night, I asked Hazel to remove the chains from Anita's ankles – I wanted her spread as widely as possible. Obediently, she knelt in front of the sofa, and, with her pretty blonde head on a cushion, used both hands to spread her buttocks wide. I noticed that her stripes wwere now fading, and remarked to Roni, who was sat toying with her pussy in an armchair, skirt up around her waist, that it was time she was whipped again. 'Yes, darling,' she agreed, 'but doesn't she look lovely like that?' It was my turn to agree. Anita's green, transparent gown was drawn up to reveal the still-evident pattern of her caning, and the flange of her butt-plug was poking lewdly out of her anus – it gave an audible 'plop' when I pulled it out, and drew a low moan from the blonde.

Hazel, by my side, pulled up my silk robe, and held my dick in her long fingers, then bent to take my whole length deep in her mouth.

'Mmmm,' I murmured, knowing that her saliva would moisten me for my task.

'Fuck her, then,' she said, as she released me, and even helped guide my ramrod-stiff cock to the portals of Anita's arsehole. I pushed, and pushed, and slowly, so slowly, penetrated her near-virgin rectum, making her scream with delicious agony as I impaled her, driving in until my balls slapped her behind, the slowly withdrawing before I rammed her again.

'Oh!' she moaned, 'it hurts so,' but there was a change in the timbre of her moans that told me that pleasure was taking over from her pain, then I was conscious that Hazel was by my side, slinky in silk, cradling my balls, and seeking to kiss me. I took her studded tongue in my mouth as I thrust hard into Anita's hospitable tunnel, and a new urgency had converted the blonde's cries into demands, which she voiced breathlessly: 'Cum in my arse, Steve, cum in my arse!' I obliged, almost blacking out with the sheer joy as I spent my hot load of cum deep into her bowel. I slumped onto the sofa, together with Hazel, while Roni came over and took Anita off to clean her up. They were gone an hour, and meanwhile I played with Hazel, bringing her off with questing fingers, as she continued to kiss me.

When Roni came back, leading the now-shackled Anita, a silver chain clipped to the ring in her collar, she said, 'I've told Anita that she will be whipped tomorrow.'

'Because she did something wrong?' asked Hazel.

'Good heavens, no,' replied my wife, without offering further comment.

The next day, I fixed a stout ringbolt into a beam over our ceiling, and hung a chain from it, down to just above my head, clipping a snap-link to the end of it. A smart young lady came to try and sell us an investment package, and seemed fascinated by the chain. 'Whatever is that for?' she asked.

'For whipping our servant,' replied Roni, matter-of-factly, and the girl laughed uncertainly, not knowing how to take Roni's reply.

After a nice dinner that Anita and Hazel had prepared, we sat watching television for a while, until Roni said, as if suggesting a drink, 'Now, Anita, I think you should go and choose your whip. You know where we keep them.'

I really thought she would choose a flogger, when she went over to the bureau, but she came back with a singletail whip, a cruel instrument, with a long thin lash, knotted neatly at the end. I knew it would sting terribly, and leave its marks on her pale flesh. She was wearing a pale blue silk halter-necked gown, her ankles shackled as per our ritual. Hazel helped her put her long, lustrous blond hair up in a chignon, where it wouldn't interfere with her whipping, and then led her over to a point under the hanging chain. She clipped wrist-restraints in place, then raised the girl's hands above her head, and clipped the rings on the restraints into the snap-link, stretching her arms above her head. Then, deftly, she untied the halter of her gown, and pulled it down, just below her waist-chain, to her hips. She then picked up the whip and handed it to me – we had agreed that I should be the one to whip Anita. As Hazel turned away, she brushed past me, feeling the bulge in my robe. 'Oh yes,' she whispered, 'you want to do this, don't you, darling?' Then she went to the sofa, where she joined Roni, and they instantly embraced.

I did like the idea of whipping Anita. Although strongly opposed to violence in general, the sensation of inflicting pain on someone who really wants to be hurt was very pleasing. I fingered the whip, its long slender thong a seductive thing. I flicked it and heard the satisfyinng 'swish' through the air. Then I looked at Anita's long, straight back, the flesh perfect, tender, waiting for me to mark.

'You consent to being whipped?' I asked her.

'Oh yes, please!' she said, 'hurt me, Steve.'

I stood back, taking in the full sight of the blonde, silken gown bunched round her slim hips, arms stretched up, suspended from the chain. 

I drew my arm back, and tried to lash her hard, but only the very tip of the thong struck flesh, cutting her instantly, and leaving a small red wheal, but I saw that my technique needed honing, and stood at a more oblique angle before I struck again. This time the lash wrapped itself satisfyingly around her slim body, just below her breasts, and caused her to whimper prettily, and squirm around in her bonds, as a red line appeared around her body. It excited me beyond belief, and I flogged her again, lower down, making her cry out sharply, and writhe with agony.

'Oh yes, Steve,' Roni called from the sofa, 'that's good. Hurt her more!' Glancing around, I saw that Hazel's head was between my wife's legs, her brown hair bobbing rhythmically as she eagerly lapped Roni's wet cunt.

Anita's back was soon covered in red stripes, none of which looked as if they would last long, and she was sobbing with pain as more strokes of the cruel whip fell across ones already there. 

When I was satisfied that her body was nicely covered in the marks of the whipping, I put down the whip and, unclipping her wrists, I took her in my arms.

'Oh, thak you, Steve, thank you,' she breathed in my ear, 'I hope we can soon do that again.'

'I certainly hope so too,' I told her.

But the following night it was the turn of Hazel, who had been so turned on by the sight of our newcomer being whipped, that she told Roni she was desperate to receive similar punishment. This time the task fell to Roni, who whipped her more brutally than I would have done, then the two of them went to bed together, leaving me free to spend the whole night with Anita. Life was good.

Hazel had difficulty in sitting down at breakfast next morning, but when I went to collect the newspaper, I came back to find them talking animatedly, my three women, seemingly having a disagreement.

'What's this all about?' I asked.

'What it's about,' said Roni, 'is that Hazel wants to be marked, branded in fact, and I don't think we should go that far – Anita's suggested a tattoo.'

'Sounds like a better idea,' I agreed.

'No!' said Hazel, adamantly, 'I want a permanent mark, something that will always be with me, so that I'll remember the agony it will be, having it done.'

'But it will be terrible,' I objected, 'and you may well just black out.'

'I won't, I know I won't,' said Hazel, 'and it's the least you can do for me.'

'We'll think about it,' I conceded, and the subject was dropped. 

But it was soon back with us again, as Hazel refused to forget the idea. 'You know you love ritual,' she said, as we were taking an after-dinner drink, 'and we could invite people – I like being watched.'

Roni glanced at me, and I nodded, 'We'll do it,' I said, 'but it will need a bit of arranging.'

Surfing the net, I found a German firm that produced branding irons to order, and Roni and I decided on a simple scroll with our initials entwined. A brazier from the garden centre, charcoal, and we were all set. What was more difficult was deciding on the form our ritual might take, and the invitations. We had to make sure all the people invited were those who wouldn't be too shocked by what we were about to do. Tanya and Mike weree no problem, of that we were certain, and Karen and James had already told us that they proposed to mark Indira in some way, so they were on the list. We decided against inviting Goran this time, for some reason, but Shireen and Sam had to be asked – they were up for anything. While we were still deliberating, and deciding on the way the evening might go, the girl with the investment package called again. As she sat down, the short skirt of her blue business suit rode up, and I couldn't help admiring her slim, nylon-clad legs, perched on patent stilettos. After introducing herself as Penny, she accepted a drink, and, while I was pouring out a whisky and soda, she noticed the brazier, sat incongruously beside the sideboard, the iron sticking out of it like a straw in a glass.

'Indoor barbecue?' she smiled, looking understandably puzzled, 'I suppose your room is large, but it seems a little......'

'No,' said Hazel, 'It's for a ceremony.'

'A ceremony? Oh, do tell me all about it, I just love ceremonies.'

Hazel looked at Roni, whose finger was up to her lips. 'It's a private one, I can't really tell you about it,' she said. 

Penny looked crestfallen, but got on with her job of selling us a rather attractive-looking deal. We agreed to buy the package she was offering, and she weent out to get papers for us to sign from her car. I watched her nice arse as she left the room, noticing that she looked curiously up at the chain hanging from the ceiling beam as she walked out.

When we had finished the paperwork, Penny thanked us, then said, hesitantly, 'I'd like to ask you something.'

'What is it?' asked Roni.

'Were you serious about whipping your slave, when I asked about that?' She nodded in the direction of the chain.

Roni's turn, it was, to hesitate, but before she could answer, the door opened and Anita shuffled in, her chain dragging on the parquet floor, wearing a long black, semi- transparent, halter-necked nightgown.

'Oh...oh, I'm sorry,' she said, turning as quickly as her shackled ankles would allow, and fumbling with the door-knob, 'I didn't realise you had company.'

'No, stay, Anita,' I called, then, to Penny, 'I guess that answers your question. Meet Anita. Anita, this is Penny – she asked if you have been whipped.'

'Hi Penny,' said the blonde, cheerfully, 'and yes, I have.' So saying, she turned around so that Penny could see the ladder-pattern of red welts down her back.

Penny, eyes like saucers, looked lost for words, then managed to stammer, 'W..well, I'd n..never imagined.........it's just....well, just amazing.'

'Would you like another drink?' I asked.

'Yes please.' I poured her a good measure.

She drank a good half the glass, then looked from me to Anita, who was now sat opposite, the chain connecting her ankles in full view. Then she half-turned to look at Roni in wonderment.

Roni was smiling back. 'I'm sorry if we've shocked you, Penny.'

'More excited than shocked,' she said, in a tiny voice, 'it's like a fantasy!'

'You have fantasised about.....about our type of thing?' I enquired.

'Yes, Steve – I may call you Steve, may I?'

'Yes, of course, and you see Roni and Hazel – Anita you have already been introduced to. We aren't formal at all.'

She looked all around at each of us again, as if she couldn't believe what she had seen and heard, then took another long slurp at her drink.

'And the brazier?' she gulped, 'you're going to brand someone – like in that book, aren't you?'

'I'm to be marked, yes,' said Hazel, calmly.

'Oh!' exclaimed Penny, 'but...b-but, you don't mind?'

'I've begged to have it done,' replied Hazel.

'That's wonderful, unbelievable,' Penny said, 'I find that so exciting!'

Roni and I exchanged glances. 'Would you like to come to the ceremony?' my wife asked.

'Oh yes, I'd love that,' said the girl, 'and, perhaps......perhaps, I could...er...'

'What, my dear?' Roni was trying to help.

'Well, join in, in some way?' 

'We'll have to see, darling,' said Roni, 'first come along to our little ceremony next Friday, and we'll talk then.' Then, as an afterthought: 'Will you be on your own?'

'Yes,' she smiled, 'just divorced. But what should I wear?'

'Something sexy,' I interrupted, 'whatever you want.'

On the day we had set aside for the branding ceremony, we spent much of the day preparing for the evening, Hazel wide-eyed with excitement as I lit the charcoal in the brazier an hour before our guests were due to arrive. Then we went to get ready, having discused at length what we each should wear. 

I wanted to wear my silk robe, and nothing else, and prevailed over Roni, who had suggested I wore a formal suit, when I told her she could stroke my prick more easily through the robe. She herself was to wear her restraint gear, the hem of her knee-length skirt buckled tightly around her legs, a narrow black waspie laced up to pinch in her already narrow waist, the chain which joined her nipple-clamps visible through the gap in her satin blouse. Anita had been told to dress in a 'maid's outfit,' a tiny black silk minidress over black fishnet hold-ups and stilettos. She had only to bend slightly for the pretty decoration dangling from her naked cunt to come into view.




Revealing Roni Ch. 02



Hazel, as the star of the evening, we dressed in a white satin corset, white lace stockings hitched to long garter-straps, and white needle-heeled shoes. Her breasts, pushed up by the corset's lace-trimmed top, were bare. We had her wear a long nylon negligee over this, and shackled her ankles, as we did every evening. She would be led in on a leash attached to her collar when the time came.

But, as the time came for our guests to arrive, we left Hazel alone to attend to her hair and make-up, as we went to greet everyone. 

I took stock of our guests as they arrived, and my excitement – and my cock – mounted.

Karen shrugged her fur coat off for me to take, and under it she wore an organdie harem suit, semi-transparent, so that the shadow of her dark nipples showed. It had a long, broad zipper running between her legs, and she took my hand and placed it on its dangling tag, her eyes teasing mine as she did so. James, dressed in his usual chinos and tee shirt, held a chain-leash, attached to Indira's collar – the girl was dressed in a short white dress, laced tightly in the back from hem to high neckline, with no sign of any undergarment beneath the lacing. Her dark skin made a lovely contrast to the white silky material. 'Kiss Steve!' ordered Karen, and she did her mistress's bidding, studded tongue searching and probing.

Shireen came abruptly to my attention next, clad in a black fishnet sheath which left nothing to the imagination. Her husband, Sam, wore some kind of Arab robe.

Then a ring on the doorbell announced Tanya, who had come alone, saying that Mike was under the weather. She took off her fur wrap, and did a 'twirl' for Roni and myself 

- she was dressed in a flaming red corset, so tight that her waist was even tinier than Roni's. Her pierced nipples were decorated with gold pendants, and a matching one hung, for all to see, from her pierced clit. Long red thigh-boots with needle heels completed her outfit. 'I've excited myself just dressing, tonight, darling,' she told me, 'I'll just have to be fucked, won't I?' I could only agree. 

The doorbell rang once more, and I opened up to Penny – but a very different Penny from the business-suited one who had sat in our lounge so recently. She had let her hair down, and now had a long, flowing mane of the finest, silkiest brown hair cascading down her back. Then he took her coat off, to reveal a girl who could more than hold her own, even in the assembled gathering. She wore a short, backless dress of some shimmering, gold material, which seemed to fall in loose folds from the scooped neckline to the hem, at mid-thigh level. At the slightest movement, her breasts jiggled, and when she turned to walk into the lounge, I saw that 'backless' meant just that, and the start of the crack between her buttocks was visible. There was no sign that she wore anything else, other than high heeled gold sandals and a little anklet. She looked at me over her shoulder. 'Do you like the way I look?' she asked, coquettishly, her eyes pointedly on the bulge in my robe. I smiled back at her without needing to reply. Two of Hazel's friends from the hospital, neither of whom I knew, arrived last, announcing themselves as Liz and Sylvie. They both wore tiny miniskirts and silk blouses, almost as if responding to some uniform code.

When everyone was gathered, except Hazel, who would be led in later, Roni stood in the centre of the floor and clapped for attention. 'I know you're all aware of the occasion, but first I think we should all relax. I'll put on some music and we'll have a dance – OK?'

Without waiting for a reply, she put on some rock music – not, thankfully, too loud - and, slowly, people started to drift out onto the parquet floor to dance. I danced with Tanya, aware that Roni was watching. When the dance was over, I went to my wife. 'I'm sorry I danced with Tanya just now, but she seemed lonely.'

'Oh, darling,' she laughed, 'I'm not jealous, not at all – in fact I decided I wanted to go to bed with her, if you must know!'

'We could go to bed with her together,' I suggested.

'Mmmm,' she replied, licking her lips.

Anita served us drinks, while I reached around and stroked her naked thigh over her stocking top, then Karen came and asked me to dance with her, just as Roni put on a slow, smoochy number. Karen moulded her slender body to me, then again placed my hand on the tag of her zipper. Obediently I pulled it down far enough to get my hand into her wet slit. I ran my hand the length of her cunt, slipping one finger into her hot, soaking fuckhole. She tensed and groaned quietly, and I knew she had cum. I had to use all my willpower not to follow suit and shoot my load into my silk robe. I needed to go and sit down after that, but the sight of my wife writhing around with Tanya on the dance-floor was hardly settling. I got up and asked Penny if she'd like to dance. I just couldn't help my erection grinding against her flat stomach as we smooched around, and her slim arm snaked around my neck, pulling me down to kiss her. When our lips finally parted, she whispered in my ear, 'I'm so, so hot, Steve! The idea of watching Hazel branded, and all these sexy people .....it's just too much!'

'Have you ever seen anything like that before?' I wanted to know.

'When I lived in London...' she started.

'What?'

'I was once chained up and whipped at a party.'

'And?'

'And what, Steve?'

'Did you like it?'

'Oh yes.'

We danced – if that's the word – in silence then, my hands stroking her soft round buttocks through the silk of her dress. After a while she looked around to make sure nobody was taking much notice of us, then pushed a hand down between us and stroked my stiff cock, then whispered in my ear, 'I'd love that in my tight little arsehole.'

'Christ,' I said, 'you'll have me cumming right here!'

'We can't have that, can we?' she teased, 'Let's go get a drink.'

There was space on the sofa next to Roni, and when we sat down, Penny said, 'I just love the way you've dressed – it's very sexy.'

'You look pretty good yourself,' said Roni.

'Why don't you two have a dance?' I suggested, and Roni got me to help her to her feet, the tightness of her skirt making the manoeuvre difficult. I watched them for a moment, and saw Roni's hand working its way up Penny's thigh, then looked around me, to see Sam in a clinch with Indira, while Tanya and Karen made a lovely picture, and James was sat with Shireen, kneading her breasts through her fishnet sheath.

When the music stopped, and Roni walked onto the floor, I was sitting on a sofa between Liz and Sylvie, my arms around both of them, with Liz quietly stroking my dick under my robe.

'Ok, everyone,' said Roni, 'it's time. I'm going to bring in Hazel now.' With that, she left, while Anita pulled the brazier to its place just to the side of the hanging chain.

A metallic clanking announced the arrival of Hazel, and she was led in by Roni, who held her by a silver chain, clipped onto her collar. She was white as the clothes she wore, but looked proud and almost haughty as she walked slowly across the floor, her ankle chain dragging along behind. When she was beside the glowing brazier, Anita helped her out of her negligee, and she stood in corset and stockings, her lovely breasts 

uncovered, jutting out as if in a challenge.

I went over and took her wrists, then hoisted them above her head, clipping them to the chain. I kissed her lips, a long, lingering kiss. 'I love you, Hazel,' I said.

Roni was inspecting the brand, lifting it from the coals to see if it was ready.

'Hazel,' she said, 'Are you absolutely sure you wish to be marked permanently?'

'Yes,' she said, 'but Anita has something for me first.' 

We looked at the blonde, in her maid's dress, and saw that she had unscrewed a little jar and now held it up under Hazel's nose. Hazel's face wrinkled as she took in the smelling salts.

'That will keep her conscious,' said Tanya, who had come to stand beside me.

Roni now took the long-handled brand from the fire and came up to Hazel, holding the cruel instrument close enough for Hazel to feel the intense heat. She hesitated just a moment, then thrusted it hard against her intimate friend's right buttock. There was a mixture of Hazel's piercing scream and the sizzling of burning flesh, the sweet smell that rose from her smoking wound, and a sort of combined gasp from the watching people. But when I looked at her face, her eyes wwere wide open, an there was almost a smirk on her lips, with an expression which seemed to combine agony and lust.

'God,' said Tanya, 'she's amazing! Come on Steve, we've an issue outstanding.'

I meekly allowed her to lead me to the sofa, where she lay back, legs wide apart, opening her pussy-lips with fingers of both hands. I needed no further invitation, and raising my robe, I plunged my engorged prick deep inside her. The pent-up thrill of the entire evening was soon too much for me, and I came in huge, hot spurts within her, so soon I had to apologise.

'No worry, Steve, that's my third orgasm of the evening already.'

But I saw to it that it wasn't her last, deciding that Penny could wait – there would be plenty of opportunities. Anyway, as I looked around, I saw the three of them, Roni, Anita and Penny, all entwined on another sofa. Things looked good.



Revealing Roni



'I already have – "The Image," it's called,' said Roni, and I glanced at her in surprise, 'it turned me on.' Then by way of an explanation to me: 'I read it when I was at university.'

I nodded. I too had been pretty wild then.

'What do you say we reenact some of the book, Hazel?'

'Mmm, sounds good,' she replied. I started to think I was living in an erotic dream.

'You certainly look the part of Anne, in the book,' Roni told her.

'I don't know. Didn't she wear stockings and a garter belt?'

'That's easily remedied,' said Roni, getting to her feet, the tightness of her skirt making movement difficult, and causing heads to turn around us.

We found a lingerie shop, and Roni bought Hazel a blue satin garter belt, which was scarcely more than a strip of material with long garter straps. Then they picked out some white stockings, with lace tops, and Hazel went into the Commercial Centre's nice clean toilets to put on the new purchases.

When she emerged, the hem of her skirt just falling below the lace tops of the stockings, Roni said, 'I think we should get you some more shoes. I'd like you in higher heels.'

We went into a big chain shoe-store, and sat on a bench, waiting to be attended, Hazel between the two of us. A pretty young blonde eventually came and asked what we would like.

'The girl is to have some very high stiletto-heeled sandals, size 36,' said Roni, indicating the mute Hazel, and causing the assistant to look askance at her as she went off to look for what was required. She soon returned with two boxes, from one of which she took a pair of gorgeous, strappy, silver sandals, with ultra-high, shiny metal needle heels. She passed one to Hazel, who bent over to try it on.

'Perhaps you'd give her a hand with the buckle?' Roni asked the girl, and she obedintly knelt down in front of Hazel, while my wife surreptitiously slid the hem of her skirt up, just past the stocking-tops. Hazel shifted her arse slightly and parted her slim legs a fraction. The blonde found herself looking straight at Hazel's naked pussy, and started with surprise, fumbling her shoe-fastening task. As I paid for the shoes, the girl looked from one to the other of us, and seemed to be on the point of asking something, but then walked away, shaking her head. I made a mental note that she might be an 'interested party.'

Our business in the Commercial Centre complete, we got in the car, and I drove us to a seedy part of town, as Roni had expressed a desire to go to a sex shop. We found one with a surprisingly long window-frontage, all painted out in smart white, custom-lined in red. We walked in past shelves full of lurid mags and DVDs, and a bored-looking Goth girl perked up a bit to see customers who weren't furtive-looking guys. We eventually emerged with a pair of handcuffs, some wrist- and ankle-restraints, a silvr-studded collar, an evil-looking black, flanged, conical butt-plug, a long rope of blue plastic balls, and a set of nipple-clamps. ('They are the best type,' said the Goth girl, and she appeared to know) 

When Roni asked about whips, she lowered her voice, and said, 'Against the law to sell them.'

Accordingly, we drove out to a posh suburb, and found a big shop called 'Equestriana,' beside a riding school Hazel said she had once taken lessons at. There we bought a long, leather riding crop.

'I think it's time we went to the park,' said Roni, and Hazel looked at her knowingly. There was a nice park, with a rose-garden, quite close by, so we rode there and parked.

There were people strolling around, some with dogs, others with push-chairs, but in the pretty rose-garden, no more than a couple of lovers, an elderly woman with a small dog, and a youngish man sat on a bench, reading a newspaper.

'Now, Hazel, let's see you pee on the border,' said Roni, 'just like Anne.'

Hazel glanced around fearfully, her composure suddenly deserting her.

'Now!' rapped Roni, and even though we were directly in front of the bench on which the man sat, and quite close to the couple, who were kissing as they walked along, looking very much in love, Hazel squatted beside the path, as Roni and I stepped aside to watch her, and daintily raised her short skirt, revealing the white flesh above her lace-topped stockings, and the blue garter-straps. The man was trying hard to continue reading his newspaper – and failing – and the couple, the man's arm still about his lover's waist, had stopped kissing and were staring at Hazel. The sight of my wife, in a skirt so tight she could hardly walk, and the highest heels anywhere, giving orders to a sexily-clad young girl, must have been staggering. The woman with the dog appeared not to be looking. To order, a thin yellow stream was issuing from Hazel's behind, and ran in a rivulet down the hard-baked earth of the border. Roni, obeying some dictum of which I wasn't aware, crouched down beside our 'slave' and, putting a cupped hand beneath her white flesh, caught the last of her stream, and held it up to her face.

'Is that the best you can do?' she said, quite loudly. Hazel nodded.

'Then you must be punished, you little slut.'

The young couple had turned away, but the girl looked over her shoulder at us, and spoke to her man, who started to walk her quickly away. Newspaper man had put his paper down, and just watched and listened, his mouth open wide, as Hazel stood up and we linked hands, Hazel between the two of us, and walked off behind the lovers. 

When we arrived home, after a bite of lunch, Roni said to Hazel, 'I suppose you know what form your punishment must take?'

'As in the book?'

'Yes darling, would you like that?'

'Oh yes, mistress.' She was playing her role to perfection, and I wondered what they knew that I didn't.

'Wait until I get out of this skirt,' said my wife, and went upstairs, a step at time, constrained by her offending hem. When she came down a couple of minutes later, she had on a black negligee that looked as if it belonged with the gown she had worn to bed last night. It was completely sheer, trimmed with fur at hem, neckline and the cuffs of its wide sleeves. Under it, she still had the corset, pinching in her waist cruelly, and she hadn't changed her shoes, still wearing the black patent heels.  

She stood for a moment, then said, 'Steve, would you like to undress Hazel?'

I didn't know how I should respond – my own wife asking me if I'd like to undress her friend!

'Well….,' I started.

'Go on!' said Roni.

Hazel stood in front of me, a look of innocence on her face. I spun her around, and undid the buttons which ran down her back, one by one. When I slipped the sheer blouse from her shoulders, she turned to face me, and I realised that her little haf-bra was fastened at the front, down between her breasts. My hands shook as I unmhooked the clasp. When I slid the bra off, her breasts were firm, and I couldn't resist cupping them in my hands for a moment.

'Now the skirt!' said my wife, interrupting. I found the fastening on the waistband, and pushed the little skirt down over her hips. She looked marvellous in just the satin garter belt, stockings and stilettos. My cock responded, standing smartly to attention.

'That will do,' said Roni, then, addressing Hazel, 'we don't have the right kind of chair – I've just realised.' 

When I looked puzzled, she said, 'we ought to have one with wooden arms, so that I can cuff her to them.

'That's alright,' cut in Hazel, 'I won't run away, and my hands might help.'

Roni gave a little laugh, and said, 'Yes, I suppose so.'

I was still in the dark, but Roni led me to one of our armchairs, and pushed me down onto it, then made Hazel kneel in front of me. She was almost close enough to touch, but Roni said, 'Go on, my dear, right between his knees, and I parted my legs so that she could move into position. Hazel looked around at Roni.

'Start, then!' she told her, and Hazel pulled down my zipper. In warm weather I don't wear underpants, so she was able to grasp my shaft and lever it from its hiding place with her cool, long, beautifully manicured fingers. When she lowered her head and started to lick the length of my rampant erection, I needed to exercise control. My wife was fetching something from the table, and the sight of her naked arse under the sheer black negligee, and Hazel's hands expertly manipulating my cock, were alnmost too much. I managaed to get myself under control, however, before Hazel rounded her red lips and took m gently into her mouth, her tongue still busy around my crown. Then, as she took my whole length deep, deep into her throat, she twitched and writhed suddenly. I realised that Roni had given her a sharp, stinging stroke with our new riding crop. Another one followed, and another and another, each one making a swish as it flew through the air and a thwack as it rained down on the soft flesh of her white back. With each stroke she sucked me, the rhythm of the lash repeated by her eager mouth, but it couldn't last, and no more than ten vicious, stinging blows were all it took before I spent my load in a hot, urgent spurt deep into her throat. 

My wife desisted then, saying, 'Oh, Hazel, I'm sorry, darling, that must have hurt – I'm afraid I got carried away.'

'Don't be sorry, love,' she said, 'I came twice.'

Gently, I turned her around as she got to her feet, and saw that on her back were some half a dozen red stripes that Roni had caused with the crop. They would soon fade, but must have stung when they were inflicted on her.

Roni turned to me. 'Did you enjoy that?'

'Does the Pope say his prayers?'

'Well, I'm going to soothe Hazel's back now. Why don't you watch the telly for a while?' With that, she extended a hand to Hazel, and led her, still clad in only garter belt and stockings, upstairs. I turned on the television, and soon fell asleep watching a nature programme.

When I awoke, I was surprised to find I had been asleep for an hour, and there was no sign of my female companions. Taking her time soothing Hazel's back, I thought, and climbed the stairs.

When I got to our bedroom, what I saw shook me rigid. No, better still, I became instantly rigid, my cock registering the scene almost before my eyes did. Because my wife and our new slave were both naked, in '69' position on the bed, their busy tongues lapping each other's wet cunts, a lovely slurping noise issuing forth, punctuated by little moans from one or the other. I watched, enchanted, and Roni, at least, knew I was looking on, but it didn't seem to worry her, and when she closed her eyes, and shuddered, in a familiar gesture, I knew she had cum. 

I was sat on the end of the bed, still fascinated, when at length they were through, and we then had a companionable dinner, sat around the table in our robes like an ordinary family.

As we finished, almost as if she was talking about the weather, Roni said, 'I've noticed that your arsehole looks very small, Hazel.'

Hazel cast her eyes downwards. 'Yes,' she said, in a rather indistinct manner, 'I'm a….virgin, if you know what I mean.'

'I thought so. You're going to have to be plugged, I'm afraid, as Steve will want to fuck your arsehole.'

I looked at my wife wonderingly. We had, in fact, only had anal sex two or three times, as Roni complained that it hurt her, even though I had often expressed a desire to indulge.

But now she was making Hazel take off her robe and kneel on the floor. Somehow the pattern of red lines across her white back began to turn me on. Perhaps it was just the thought of having a slave, someone who would do whatever we wanted.

'Part your knees! More!' said Roni, and Hazel obeyed. I saw that her arsehole was no more than a tiny, puckered little orifice. Roni produced a tube of KY jelly, and laid the new black plug on the table, then started to smear the lubricant all around Hazel's butt.

'Now, Steve,' she said, 'see if you can get it in.'

'Stretch your arse-cheeks apart with your hands,' I told Hazel, finding a cushion to lay her head on, 'and hold them open.'

The sight of her offering up her most intimate hole like that had made my cock stiff, and Roni came around the table and reached within my robe to grasp my tool as I gently pushed at the very portals of Hazel's rectum with the tip of the plug. I wriggled it around, helped by the gel, but, when it was halfway in, she gasped with the unfamiliar pain. I wasn't to be denied, however, and pushed less delicately, twisting it like a screw, until the maximum diameter of the plug was about to enter into her stretched anus. I gave it a brutal thrust, and Hazel screamed with the agony of it, as I pushed it right home, leaving only the flange, now flush with her anal crack. Roni, meanwhile, had my shaft in one hand, and was massaging Hazel's clit with the other, causing her to moan rhythmically. Suddenly she stopped.

'Hazel, go to your room!' she ordered, then, to me, 'It's my turn, Steve – fuck me please.' With that, she lay back on the floor, her knees raised, legs open, lewdly opening her cunt with the fingers of both hands, so that its glistening, warm pink depths beckoned me. I fell on her, and buried my throbbing cock to the hilt in my wife's eager cunt, feeling her agile muscles grip, then release me, in a way she knew I found irresistible. She knew I couldn't last long, and somehow geared her orgasm to mine, biting down painfully on my shoulder as we both came, my hot spunk shooting deep within her in an endless gush.

Hazel had disobeyed, and watched us from just around the door.

'You will have to be punished for that,' I called to her, when I caught my breath.

'Tomorrow,' added my wife, 'and see you keep that plug in place.'

We went to bed, and slept soundly, both quite spent.

Next day, I had to go to work, and so did my two female companions. I was pleased when both demonstrated to me, as they went out of the house before me, that they had worn no panties under their skirts. My life, I thought, had undergone quite a change since Hazel came along.

I could hardly wait to get home that evening – I had been feeling horny all day. The weekend had started me in thinking about all the attractive women I saw all day long. How many of them were ex-slaves? Who, amongst the loads of girls in our typing pool, was a submissive, and would sport the lovely marks of the whip on their backs? And who would be wearing no panties, and would be prepared to show her naked, shaven cunt to anyone who cared to look? Perhaps that leggy blonde who had just walked down the corridor had a butt-plug in? After all, somebody bought them – not just us.

When I got home, however, Roni had a surprise for me, one that I thought thwarted me in my urgent need to get my rocks off.

'I've invited Karen and James over for dinner tonight. Hope you don't mind?' I did.

'I hope it's not a dressing-up job.'

'Well, they are a bit formal, but no tux or anything like that. It'll give us girls a chance to wear something pretty.

'Oh, that's alright then,' I said peevishly.

'Don't be upset, Steve – it'll turn out OK, you'll see.'

'But they're very…..upper crust, aren't they?'

'Not really. And when I told James that we are "unconventional" he said he couldn't wait.'

'But you're sure they're not going to turn up in tux and black velvet?'

'Stop worrying, Karen rang me after James had told her about the invitation, and asked what she should wear – us girls do that, you know.'

'What did you say?' 

'Something sexy.'

I shrugged and went to get a shower.

As I was getting undressed, the phone rang. Nobody picked up downstairs, so I picked up the extension. It was James.

'Hi, Steve. Look, old man, I know this is frightfully cheeky, but would you mind if we brought someone else along tonight?'

'I wouldn't mind a bit,' I said, 'but I ought to check with Roni – she's cooking now.'

I yelled downstairs, 'Any problem with an extra for dinner?'

''Course not,' she called up, 'its just another handful of rice.'

I told James, and he said, 'Good. I know you'll approve.' Without enlarging on the matter, he rang off.

I looked appreciatively at Roni and Hazel as we sipped a sherry, the meal simmering away, Hazel having set the table. Roni was dressed in as daring a manner as she could get away with, I thought. She wore a long gold-coloured gown of some shimmering, shiny material, open down each side from armpit to floor, with gold-coloured clasps holding the front and back together, one just below her breasts, one at the top of her thigh, and a third at ankle level. Had she been wearing anything underneath, it would have shown. She also wore long black gloves, and in one hand she held a silver chain, which looped from the silver studded collar, now around Hazel's elegant neck. Hazel was dressed in a similar manner to the day before, a see-through blouse over a white half-bra, this time showing her nipples quite distinctly above it. Instead of her tartan 'school' skirt, she wore a short, silky mid-blue one, over her white stockings and heels.

The sight of my wife sitting there, holding our slave's leash as she sat at her feet on the floor, had my cock straining to be released, but then the doorbell rang, and Roni unclipped Hazel's leash, and told her to go to the door.

James came first, dressed, I was pleased to see, just like me, in an open-necked silk shirt and slacks. As he shook hands, and kissed Roni's cheek, I started when I saw his companions. This was a very different Karen from the one I had seen – and soon lost interest in – at the party. In place of her 'fifties' taffeta skirt and silk blouse, she now wore a long black halter-neck gown, with a loose top, which allowed her tits to jiggle prettily as she approached, taking dainty steps, due to the tightness of the gown's skirt. Her blonde hair, which she had worn up in a bob at the party, was brushed out to a silken sheen, and reached almost to her waist. When she took a glass of sherry from the tray Hazel offered her, I saw that the long false nail on her right pinkie had a dangling decoration, a clasped stone at the end of a fine gold chain, which clinked against her glass. There was something intensely erotic about it. 

But my attention was transferred to their companion, who James introduced as Indira ('named after Mrs Ghandi) – the Indian girl James had been dancing with at the party. She was smaller than Karen, but slender and extremely beautiful, with a golden complexion, long, thick black hair and huge, almost black eyes. She wore a black fishnet sheath, and her firm breasts were naked underneath, their tips poking out through the mesh, decorated with tiny silver dumbells. The only garment she wore under the sheath was a tiny pair of white silk panties, fastened at the sides with a big white ribbon, whose bows projected through what looked like deliberately-located slits in her sheath – an open invitation, I thought, to flip them open, rendering her totally naked under the revealing mesh. When she was introduced to me, I saw that she had a pierced tongue too, and seemed to make its silver stud as obvious as she could, flicking her tongue out subtly as she talked

'Indira lives with us now,' said Karen, by way of an explanation for her presence, and I was left wondering if she, like Hazel, had taken the role of 'slave.'

We sat down to a dinner tht seemed to be enjoyed by everyone, and the more so by me, as Karen's foot, from which she seemed to have kicked off her shoe, roamed promisingly around my ankle as we ate, making it difficult to concentrate on my food.

'Your dress is beautiful,' I said, to make conversation.

'It's nice to wear,' she said, 'I like very tight skirts – they….er - do something for me.'




Revealing Roni



'Me too,' I agreed, with feeling, and she laughed, then let the tip of her tongue poke out a millimetre from between her white teeth. It was as open an invitation as if she had said, 'fuck me, please, Steve.'

My wife, who was sitting beside me, leaned over and whispered in my ear, 'She'd like you to fuck her. Would you like that?'

'Yes. Would you mind?'

'Of course not, darling, just so long as James can fuck me – he so wants to.' I suspected he already had, anyway.

Roni pulled my head towards her, and kissed me deeply, probing with her tongue, then, turning to James, and reaching for his hand across the table, said sweetly, 'Would you like to come upstairs with Hazel and me?'

As soon as they had gone, I too reached across, and took Karen's slim, long-fingereed hand in mine, the dangling ornament in her pinkie a statement, I thought, if one were needed.

Karen turned then to Indira, who had been sat at the end of the table, silently observing.

'Stand up!' she told her, and the Indian girl got to her feet.

'Come round and stand by Steve, my dear.'

When she was stood by my side, her musky perfume assailing my senses, Karen looked her up and down, then said, 'You are very beautiful, Indira. Take off your panties please.'

The girl flipped open the bows which projected from the slits in her sheath, and the loose silk panties fell to the floor, so that I could see her clean-shaven mound and the start of her deeply-cut crack through the mesh of her dress. Close-up, I could also see distinctly faint red lines around her stomach and upper thighs.

'She's been whipped?' I asked Karen.

'A few days ago,' she said, licking her lips in an involuntary gesture, 'She had to be punished.' 

I looked from one to the other of them, and must have betrayed my thoughts.

'The idea excites you, Steve,' It wasn't a question, 'And you're thinking you'd like to whip her yourself.'

Before I could formulate a reply, she said, 'Indira's overdue for punishment. If you would like to……'

I nodded, speechless, my cock having turned into a rigid pole – almost painful with lust.

'What would you favour, then; her arse, I suppose?' It was as if she was asking me which cut of meat I wanted.

'I'd prefer her back – it has a sort of medieval feel, I think.'

'Yes, I know what you mean. Do you have a whip?'

'We have a crop. Hazel felt it yesterday.'

'It's so nice to have friends who feel the same way we do. Now, Indira, darling, please take your dress off.'

The Indian girl reached behind her neck, and pulled down a long zipper, then pushed the mesh off her shoulders, letting it fall in a puddle about her black stilettos. She looked proud and intensely beautiful standing there naked.

I had a sudden thought. We hadn't yet put the ringbolt in the wall we had discussed the night before, and I told Karen so.

'I don't think it matters, darling,' she said, 'If we have her kneel down here,' – she indicated the carpet – 'she will be quite still.'

When I had fetched the crop from the cupboard, Karen had got Indira to kneel up on the carpet, her hands behind her head, her face passive, but somehow almost challenging. For all my fantasies, I had never whipped a girl before, and my hand shook slightly in anticipation.

'How many strokes can she take?' I asked Karen, who was standing beside me, very close – so close that her expensive perfume - Guerlain? – wafted over me.

'That depends on how hard they are,' she replied, and her hand found its way to the front of my trousers. 'That feels impressive,' she said, 'but don't waste it, will you.'

'If you leave your hand there, I probably will.' She withdrew it, and I tried to concentrate on the punishment I was to mete out, but I was within an ace of cumming in my trousers, and had to turn away, and walk around a moment, to Karen's obvious amusement.

When I was ready to start, Karen had knelt down beside Indira, and, taking her head in her hands, kissed her tenderly.

'I love you, you know, don't you, darling?' she said, then put her hand down between the Indian girl's legs, forcing her to part her knees a little.

'She's so wet,' she said to me, 'she so loves to be hurt.'

With that, Karen lifted Indira's lovely thick black mane of hair over her shoulder.

'Whip her now, Steve,' she said, and I tried out the crop, which made a satisfying whistling noise a it flew through the air.

I lashed the young Indian girl just below her shoulder-blades, and she scarcely flinched, even though I raised an instant red welt the width of her olive-skinned back.

'Oh!' said Karen, as if it were she I was whipping, as I fetched another cruel stroke, a shade lower down, and it was matched by a tiny gasp from Indira. I knew it must have stung terribly.

'Harder, harder!' cried Karen, and I put all my strength into the next blow, which landed with loud 'crack' on the girl's slender lower back. Karen then pulled me around beside her. 'Whip her tits!' she ordered, and I brought the crop down with a resounding 'swish' across the tops of the girl's lovely firm breasts. This time she cried out sharply, and Karen had my zipper down, and my engorged prick in her hand, like lightning.

As I directed my next stroke at a point below her breasts, Karen took my length in her gorgeous red lips, one hand helping her with my cock, the other down between her slave's legs. I got in one more stroke before I could hold out no longer, and came in a hot, urgent gush, deep into Karen's throat. I threw down the crop, and staggered to the sofa, where the two women joined me, one on either side.

'How are your power of recovery?' Karen asked, at length.

'Depends.' 

'On what?'

'On what I'm recovering for.'

'Let's say you're recovering to fuck me.'

'I'll be ready shortly.'

And I was. Karen played with me, cradling my balls in her hand, while I licked Indira's pussy, then, when I started to get hard again, the blonde stood up and slowly unfastened the bow which held her halter-neck in place, then smoothed the gown down over her hips, revealing a thin gold chain, hanging loosely over a shaven mound, below which nestled a gold ring – she had a pierced clitoris. That did it – I was rock hard again, and the more so when she lay back on the carpet and summoned the wounded Indira to join her, the red welts from my whipping showing starkly on her body.

Indira knew her role, and found a cushion, which she put under her mistress's buttocks, then parted the blonde's legs enticingly. When I sunk to my knees, and slowly introduced my stiff rod to the very portals of Karen's glistening wet, pink cunt, she pulled me bodily down, so that I quickly entered her, right to the hilt.

'Oh, Steve, fuck me to death!' she yelled, and I knew I could make it last now, having already cum once. But after a good many thrusting, lunging strokes, I felt Indira's hands on my arse, then she plunged a long finger deep into my arsehole, and I came, again, in a steaming stream, deep within her.

'Oh Steve,' she breathed, 'That was wonderful.' I had to agree.

Later, Roni and Hazel came downstairs with James. Roni had a huge smile on her face, and James looked suitably knackered.

'Good evening?' I ventured, when we had seen our guests off into the night.

'Mmmm,' replied Roni, 'have we any of that cream, by the way, for Hazel's arse?'

Our life settled down into some sort of routine after that. My wife and Hazel delighted now in 'flashing' whenever we were in public places – we would tell Hazel to show her cunt to someone in a restaurant, and this sometimes resulted in our inviting a stranger – better still, a couple – back to our home. Hazel's anus became an agile home for my cock on many occasions, but only when Roni was present. Sometimes, however, the two of them would exclude me, and go to bed together – I didn't mind at all. Karen and James became firm friends, inviting us to their home frequently. There we played games and punished our two slaves – to their delight.