2 comments/ 81773 views/ 21 favorites Sylvia's Switch By: Calandria 'Size twelve, madam? Certainly, madam,' I said, obediently, metaphorically raising my eyebrows, and wondering whether I should a) try and pass off a 14 as a twelve, or, b) try and squeeze the woman's optimistic frame into the most generous twelve in the store. A common dilemma. She ended up buying the dress, squeezing herself into a twelve, and enjoying the experience, then, as she collected up her belongings, ready to make the transaction, she suddenly asked, 'How'd you get that black eye?' – an inevitable question I'd been dreading. The words of the Vega song came tumbling into my mind – 'Please don't ask me any more!' – and a tear rolled down my cheek, I wiped it angrily away. I sat in the stockroom after the customer had gone, to compose myself. 'The bastard!' I thought, 'the drunken bastard!' It had been good, the sex, once upon a time. Promising. Yes, that was the word, promising. We had watched a video of 'O' together, been turned on by its elegant sado-masochism, both of us, said we'd give it a try. But Jason wasn't 'Sir Stephen' – not by a long chalk. Long and the short of it, he couldn't hold his drink, and he was insanely jealous of me. He'd come home, like the night before, shit-faced, and I was for it. Next evening, he was all tears and apologies, red roses, the lot – and a good fuck, but it was getting so that I had to simulate my orgasms, and that wouldn't do. Oh no, Sylvia, I thought, that won't do at all. I stuck my head under the tap, and, when I looked up, in the washroom mirror, I didn't like what I saw. Apart from the shiner, which, in truth, wasn't that bad, and would disappear in a day or two, my hair, normally a long glossy chestnut mane, was straggly and dull. I looked at my watch. It was ten to one, and I didn't think my boss would mind if I shut the door early for once, and went home to sort myself out. Ten minutes home on my scooter, and I got straight under the shower, where I dallied for fully ten minutes, letting the warm jets bathe my body in their soothing stream. I gave my hair a thorough shampoo and conditioning, then sat naked and went to town on my make-up, doing my very best to conceal the damaged blood-vessels around my eye. When I slipped back into my bra and panties, I suddenly felt hungry, and heated up a lasagne I found in the fridge. As I sat and ate it, I started to feel better. Come on, Sylvia, I thought, what are you made of? I chucked the pots in the sink. Jason would be home before me – he could wash up, fuck him! I went through to the bedroom of our little apartment and started to put on the blouse I had worn that morning, and then had second thoughts. I unclipped my bra, and slipped it off my shoulders, then put on the silk blouse, knowing that the feel of silk next to my naked breasts acted like a tonic. I stepped into my pleated cotton skirt, then decided on a change of footwear as well, discarding the 'sensible' sandals I had worn that morning, in favour of a pair of strappy stilettos I knew made my legs look good. I always felt better when I looked good – didn't everyone? Back at the boutique, the phone rang, as I was turning the 'Open' sign. It was Susana, the Spanish owner of the store, and quite a lot more like it. 'Sylvia, darling!' she said, 'I was so worried. I called just before lunch, and there was no answer!' 'I'm very sorry, Susana,' I lied, 'I had a dental appointment, and had to close five minutes early.' 'No, darling, it doesn't matter. I wasn't checking up on you, really I wasn't. I just wanted to tell you I'm on the way to see you this afternoon. Just so long as you are alright……..' Susana had always been very good to me, and trusted me implicitly. She was a wonderful person to work for, and I looked forward to her visits, but now rushed into the store-room, to check myself in the mirror, and tried again to cover my black eye as best I could, cursing Jason roundly as I worked away with the make-up. At four o'clock sharp, a taxi pulled up outside, and in walked Susana, bringing with her a cloud of Guerlain. She was tallish, probably pushing forty, marginally taller than my 5'7", fashionably slim, with short very dark brown hair, almond-shaped dark brown eyes, and the longest lashes I had ever seen. Her features were classically beautiful, and she knew it, which was always apparent in her bearing. She now wore a soft maroon leather trouser suit, moulding her body like a second skin, and under the jacket of which a white silk blouse could be seen. Her height was accentuated by black patent heels, and the only jewellery she wore were tiny pearl ear-rings. She embraced me warmly, congratulating me on my sales figures, which, in truth, had been very good lately, then held me by the shoulders, at arms' length. 'But, Sylvia darling, who did that to you? You can't let it happen, you know.' Tears rose unbidden to my eye-corners, but I didn't reply. The nearness of Susana was having an effect on me that I didn't want to analyse, and I suddenly wanted her to enfold me in her arms. Did I want mothering? No, I didn't! This was something new, an emotion foreign to me, as I looked into Susana's dark eyes. I wanted, quite suddenly, for her to kiss me – would have given a week's salary for her lips to lock onto mine. 'Oh, Sylvia,' she said, her deep voice, with its slightly strange foreign vowels, music in my ears, 'come to dinner with me tonight, at my hotel, please.' 'But my husband……..' I started. She raised her eyebrows, and I changed tack, 'I've nothing to wear,' I said, knowing that Susana stayed at the super-posh Imperial, where I couldn't get away with any old rags for dinner. Susana spread her arms wide, 'We have enough nice things here for you, don't we?' I just looked at her, not wanting to mention the price-tags all our dresses carried, but she laughed, 'A nice dress will be a part of your bonus, darling. Come, I'll help you choose.' She walked to the door and casually flipped the sign back to 'Closed' before shepherding me into the big back store where we kept racks of dresses. Susana knew the ranges intimately, of course, and coursed through the racks of evening gowns until she had found five or six that she thought would suit me. With the store closed, the stock-room had a strange intimacy, and, ridiculous as it seemed, it was all I could do to avoid going into one of the tiny changing cubicles to try on the dresses. I felt Susana's eyes on me as I slipped off my skirt, leaving my blouse until last, now wishing I had put on a bra after all. But Susana made no comment when I shrugged off my blouse, and reached for the first of the dresses, standing there in just a pair of white silk panties and my stilettos. Nevertheless, I was self-conscious about baring my breasts to her, and saw a faint smile playing on her lips as she realised my embarrassment. The first dress was a dark blue velvet one with a full skirt. 'Frumpy!' I said, and Susana thought that was word she liked – she giggled like a little girl. The second, a black crêpe-de-chine number, made me look like the bride of Dracula, and again I had my boss laughing. By the time we got to the fourth dress, I knew I had found just what I wanted. It was a long silvery-grey silky halter-neck gown, completely backless, with a bodice loose enough so that my breasts jiggled around when I walked. I looked at myself in the mirror and then at Susana, who was watching me, an odd expression on her pretty face. 'You look ravishing,' she said, and, taking my hand, squeezed it hard. I looked into her eyes, but failed to read her expression – what was worse, I couldn't understand my own feelings at that time. Susana voiced my next big concern: 'How are you going to get out of the house dressed in that?' 'That's what was worrying me!' 'Branches meeting,' she suggested, 'come out in a suit, and change here, that should work.' When I got home that evening, Jason was already back from work. As I suspected, he'd bought me a huge bouquet, and was all love and kisses, an act with which I was all too familiar, after one of his bouts of violence. Gently, I broke his embrace, and said, 'Sorry, love, got to go out tonight – branches meeting.' 'Oh,' he said, crestfallen, 'but are we having dinner before you go?' 'No,' I said, there'll be food there. I'll do you a pizza before I go.' He accepted the situation meekly enough, and later I trotted off into the bedroom to put on a rather severe trouser-suit I didn't think he would find too alluring. I needn't have worried, he was engrossed in a football match on the telly when I went to the door, and just looked up absently and grunted a farewell. I went by bus into town, let myself into the shop, and changed into the dress, then took great care with my make-up, and brushed my hair out to a lustrous shine. Taking a twirl in front of the mirror, I said aloud, 'You look good enough to eat, Sylvia!' I slipped on the coat I had had on over my suit, during my chilly scooter-ride, and called a taxi. When I arrived at the hotel, the incredibly plush surroundings were a little daunting, and, seeing my long gown, a uniformed flunky came and took my coat, escorting me to the huge banqueting hall, where a combo played soft music under glittering chandeliers. Susana rose from her corner table to greet me as I was ushered in towards her, and I instantly felt weak at the knees. She wore a long, form-fitting dress of black lace, high-necked and long-sleeved. As she stood, I saw plainly that under it she was naked save for a pair of matching panties, tied at the sides with huge ribbon-bows. The fact that she wore no bra accentuated her almost complete absence of breasts, but tantalising glimpses of large brown aureola, topped with prominent nubs of nipples, were offered between patterns in the lace, as she moved. 'What an absolutely gorgeous dress,' I told her. 'I'm glad you like it,' she said, 'it was an indulgence, one day in Paris, and I never seem to find the occasion to wear it.' 'I'm glad you did tonight,' I said, then: 'you are really so very beautiful.' I felt redness creep up my cheeks as I said it, and wondered if I had overstepped the mark. She reached across the table and took my hand, her cool touch feeling like velvet. 'Don't be embarrassed, darling,' she said, 'I think you are beautiful too. This afternoon, in the shop, I wanted to kiss you, but didn't want to frighten you off.' 'I wanted you to kiss me, more than anything in the world,' I said, and looked down at the table. A waiter came and took our orders, and the moment was lost. We looked at each other then, and I simply marvelled at Susana's beauty, her long black lashes, the curve of her neck, her perfect skin – I dare hardly look at her tiny breasts, at those thrusting nipples poking at the Parisian lace, so I watched instead her long fingers, their elegantly manicured nails all painted light pink to perfection. In her ear-lobes tonight she wore long silver pendants, which brushed her shoulders, and were punctuated along their length with little stones – they may or may not have been diamonds. We ate a light but first-class meal, with good wine, which I asked Susana to order – she did so as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Apart from commenting upon the quality of the food and wine, and sharing a sly giggle like two schoolgirls when a waiter dallied at our table, obviously getting an eyeful of us both, little was said during the meal. When we ordered coffees and cognac, Susana eased her chair back slightly, visibly relaxed, and it was then that I felt her hand stroking my thigh, through the silky material of my dress. I looked at her, and smiled, biting my bottom lip as I felt a damp warmth spreading in my pussy. I was suddenly afraid of causing a damp patch through my thin silk panties, staining my light-coloured gown. Desperately, I tried to think about something else – anything to divert my mind from whatever was happening to me. I must have closed my eyes, because Susana said quietly, 'Is something wrong, Sylvia?' 'Far from it!' someone replied – it must have been me, but I was in a kind of trance by now, mesmerised by Susana, who was still running her long fingers up and down my leg, and watching my face intently. 'Oh, please, Susana,' I said finally, 'what's happening to me? I've never felt like this before, and……and….' 'Hush,' she said, 'you don't have to explain. Let's take our coffees in my room, shall we?' I found myself being shepherded into the lift, and up to the fifth floor, Susana having given appropriate instructions to the waiter as we left. We were soon in a luxurious suite, and Susana immediately excused herself to go to the toilet. As I heard the loo flush, room service appeared with our coffees. As I was arranging the things on the coffee table, Susana came out of the toilet, and I noticed straight away that she was now naked under the lace of her dress, having divested herself of her panties. That very knowledge was enough to start my juices flowing again, and when she sat down beside me on the sofa, her musky perfume filled my senses as her long leg slid against mine. 'Sugar?' I asked, trying for normality, and she shook her head no. 'Milk neither,' she said, and I poured her out a coffee, my hands shaking visibly. 'Don't be nervous, darling,' she said, 'I don't bite – unless you want me to, that is!' I looked to see if she was joking and she took my head in her hands, and kissed me quickly on the lips, just a peck, but it was a peck which opened the floodgates, and I crushed my lips fiercely against hers, thrusting at them with my tongue, demanding an entrance. She yielded to me, and my tongue darted between her sharp little teeth, entwining with her own questing tongue, probing, as I sucked hard, kissed her with all the passion I had been bottling up all evening, showing her the depths of my as-yet-half-understood longing. 'My God, Sylvia!' she exclaimed, when she came up for air, 'you really want me, darling, don't you?' 'I…I…Don't know,' I said, miserably. 'Well, that's flattering, I must say,' she said. 'No – I don't mean that,' I said, 'it's just that I've never kissed a woman before, never wanted one before I met you, and…….well……..' My sentence tailed off lamely. 'Come with me,' she said, decisively, standing up, and holding her hand down to help me up. I took it and meekly let her lead me across the suite, up two steps, to the king-size four-poster bed. Gently she pushed me down to sit on the edge of it, then, turning her back to me said, 'Unzip me, darling, will you?' I hesitated a moment. Here was I, about to undress another woman, passionately wanting to share the innermost secrets of my body with her. Me, Sylvia, a Lesbian, Dyke, all the things I had laughed about, heard my husband and his mates telling jokes about – could this be? But my hesitation was over in a flash, overcome almost before it took place. I wanted Susana, wanted her tenderness, her feminine flesh, her very woman-ness, with all my heart, wanted her lithe, slender body with its musky, heady perfume, wanted to touch her secret places, and above all, wanted her to touch mine. I reached behind her graceful neck, unclasped the catch, and pulled the long zipper down, down, right to below her waist. She turned to me, her dress bunched up in her arms, smiling almost coyly, as she lowered her arms, uncovering her breasts. I saw then that her aureolas had been rouged, making them more obvious through the lace of her dress, and her nipples stood out starkly. She ran one hand over them, and I could have sworn they hardened perceptibly. Her breasts were scarcely more than swellings, like those of a twelve-year-old girl. 'Not much to look at,' she said. 'I think they are absolutely gorgeous,' I replied. I reached out to touch her, but she moved away a pace or two, and wriggled a little, shedding the tight skirt of the dress over her hips. She stood naked before me, the dress a pool at her feet, except for her high heeled sandals. I gasped at the beauty of her. She was completely clean-shaven, with a prominent mound, and a neat crack which was all but invisible until, as now, she opened her legs deliberately, letting her upper body sway back a fraction. Then she slipped the fingers of one hand between her legs, and showed me her pussy-lips, just parting her labia with two fingers so that I had a glimpse of the glistening pink treasures within. I moaned and felt an orgasm starting to well up within me, and I hadn't been touched. 'Susana, please!' I cried, and she came and knelt over me. The first touch of her smooth flesh was like an electric shock. I kneaded her breasts, tweaking her hard nipples, somehow not caring if it hurt her, but when I reached down for her pussy, she twisted away, and came up behind me, deftly untying the bow which fastened my dress's halter-neck. Now behind me, she had my breasts cupped in her hands, and the feeling was ecstatic. When she pulled at my nipples, then, bringing her head around, bent and bit one, I screamed – and came, the first time in my life I had ever had an orgasm without being fucked. She backed off for a moment, thinking she had hurt me, then I motioned for her to carry on, and raised my buttocks to help her pull my gown down and off. 'Let's get rid of these, shall we?' said Susana, pulling at my now sopping panties, and I again raised my arse and wriggled out of them. Susana clasped my naked body to hers, biting gently at my ear-lobes, then my distended nipples, whilst busy fingers found their way between my legs. I gasped as she located my hard little clitoris, and she murmured her pleasure, as it seemed to grow under her hungry fingers. 'Oh, Susana,' I said, breathlessly, 'I never dreamt anything could be like this!' In answer, she plunged two long fingers deep into my drenched cunt, and another orgasm was fast overtaking me. She heard it in my rapid, shallow, breathing, and said, 'not yet, darling!' She pulled away from me, and, with an agility which belied her years, she flipped around, and we were in '69' position. Her tongue lapped the length of my eager slit, and she opened her slender legs wide for me to gaze upon the lovely sight of her own dark labia, surrounding the glistening pink flesh of her moist cunt. I sought her clit and flicked at the little nub with my tongue, then thrust it as deep as I could into her mysterious dark depths, probing and twisting as she squirmed and moaned. 'My anus!' she cried, and I knew what she wanted. I rammed a finger straight up her arsehole – it was some kind of an instinct, which came from I knew not where - whilst still tonguing her pussy, and she had her own tongue deep in mine. She shuddered and tensed her legs around my head – I think I did much the same – and I'm certain we both came simultaneously. We carried on licking each other, and the slurping sounds indicated the extent of vaginal fluid each of us had secreted. Hers tasted good, at the same time sweet and musky. She came up and wriggled into place beside me, taking m in her arms. 'Your first time, wasn't it?' 'With a woman, yes,' I said. 'All that hair will have to go,' she said, laughing, 'it gets between my teeth!' 'Does that mean there'll be another time?' I asked. 'If that's what you want, darling,' she said, 'I'm much older than you, and, well, you may not know which direction you want your life to go in, but I could show you many things, take you to places you have never dreamed of – and I don't mean places you'll find on the map. Sleep with me tonight – I'll phone your husband with a good story – and we'll talk in the morning.' Sylvia's Switch Ch. 02 Most of my stories to date have been male/female BDSM stuff (and this one moves that way too . I thought I'd try one which is a bit more 'feminist' – maybe convince readers that I don't go for violence against women. Anyhow, everybody in the story is over 18 – don't read it if you aren't! This follows the first part of 'Sylvia's Switch.' I let Susana her help me out of my corset, which had left red lines around the undersides of my breasts and just below my waist, then I rolled down my stockings. 'Let me hold you, darling,' said Susana, and she traced the red lines with her fingers, muttering, 'so pretty, so pretty!' 'Oh?' I said, questioningly. 'There's so much you have to learn, my dear,' she said, 'but some things will wait. For now, I have a little surprise for you.' She took a small red box out of her bedside cabinet, and opened it up, taking out a yellow tube about five inches long, no more than half an inch thick, and smoothly pointed at one end. To the other end was connected a length of plastic tube, with a bulb at its extremity. Also producing a tube of lubricant, she said, 'Turn over, dear, and spread your legs for me.' I was suddenly afraid, as I knew what she was going to do, and had no idea what to expect. Jason had several times suggested anal sex, but I had always resisted, and it was in the realms of the unknown for me. But I really trusted Susana, and just said, 'Don't hurt me, Susana, will you?' 'Just a little, at first, darling,' she said, 'but then you'll love it, I promise!' I felt her smearing the gel around my sensitive arsehole, then, quickly, the point of the little dildo was probing, seeking entrance to my virgin hole. I tensed, and Susana gave me a hard slap across the buttock with the flat of her hand, telling me to relax, which somehow had just that effect, and I felt the alien object work its way up slowly but surely, thrusting into my narrow tube, past my reluctant sphincter. I cried out with pain, then knew that there was something else, some new sensation I couldn't describe, as Susana pushed the dildo deeper and deeper until I felt my very bowel invaded by it. Then I heard a click and she was doing something else behind me. There was a puffing sound, and I felt the dido within me expand! 'Oh! Oh! Susana, please! I can't take it. You'll kill me. Oh, please, oh, oh, oh!' I cried, and she had transferred her hand to my cunt. 'You're a little slut, Sylvia, aren't you?' she said, 'I do believe you've cum again!' I sobbed, sobbed with the hurt of the name she had called me, of her opinion of me, then calmed myself when I realised she was kissing me all over, as I lay in her arms, with the little dildo still lodged up my arsehole, some of the air now let out. I must have fallen asleep. When I awoke, Susana was sitting beside me, looking down at me, wearing a summer dress. 'Get dressed, darling,' she said, 'you can leave your little yellow friend in place!' She waved the tube, with its bulb on the end in front of me, 'I've left just enough air in it to keep it up there.' I put on a cotton print button-through dress and a pair of heels, so that I should more-or-less match Susana, and made up hurriedly so that I could join her on our next journey into town, acutely aware of the invasive dildo in my anus, and of my lack of panties. 'What are you trying to do to me?' I whispered, when we were sat together in the back seat of the car, her long-fingered hand on my knee. For answer, she ran her hand slowly up my thigh, causing a shiver to run right through me. She showed me the other stores in her company during the rest of the day, but I had difficulty in concentrating, and Susana seemed to derive great amusement from my discomfort, several times deliberately stroking my arse as I stood beside her. That evening we dined together, served by Adela, who was dressed in a black fishnet blouse, through which her breasts, hardly larger than Susana's, were clearly visible, and a layered white cotton miniskirt. When she bent down to serve at the table, her shaven pussy came into view, and I thought I caught a brief glint of silver somewhere. Did she have a piercing? When we had finished our meal, Susana said to me, 'You must be tired, Sylvia, but it's a day off tomorrow – off you go to your room, now!' I couldn't believe my ears – I had been summarily dismissed! I went up to my room, obediently enough, but was feeling quite sore, and when I heard footsteps on the stairs, I turned my light off and quietly opened my door just a chink, to peep out and see what I could. Susana and Adela were coming upstairs together! They went into Susana's room, across the corridor from mine, and closed the door. I listened intently at my door, still slightly ajar, but heard nothing. Just when I thought all was quiet, though, I heard a stifled scream, then another and another! Closing the door quietly, I went over to my bag, on the bedside table, and checked to see I had my credit cards. I resolved to go home in the morning, and cried myself to sleep. Next morning, I was awakened by a knock on the door. Before I had chance to speak, in came Adela, wearing a little blue halter-necked sundress, and carrying a breakfast tray. My lack of Spanish prevented me from catty questions about the night before, so I thanked her as coldly as I could, and accepted the tray. When she turned on her heel to walk out, however, I saw three livid red welts across her back, which her dress made no attempt to cover – it was almost as if she were proud of them. In fact, she turned as she reached my door, and smirked at me in a way which I could only describe as self –satisfied. I was almost too gobsmacked to eat the delicious breakfast which had been provided. I showered and made up, dressed in a miniskirt and peasant blouse, brushed my hair, and went down to find Susana, determined to take my leave of her after last night's performance. I found Susana in the lounge, draped over the big couch, in the most elegant long white silk nightdress, drinking coffee. 'Hello, darling!' she said, 'I do hope you slept well?' I didn't know how to reply, and she knew, had known, the effect that her night with Adela would be bound to have on me. She laughed lightly. 'Come and sit by me, Sylvia, darling!' In spite of myself, I did as she told me. 'I told you, I believe, that you have much to learn. And if you are prepared to do so, you will know pleasures you can never have dreamed of. I want you to be truly mine. I don't like the word "slave" and don't want to think of you as such, but it most nearly describes what you will be to me – if, of course, you agree to stay with me.' 'But.....but, Adela?' I asked. 'Adela is my maid,' she said, ' and will be yours too, to do with as you please. She is very obliging.' 'But you.....you punished her last night!' 'I whipped her, yes, as I do from time to time.' My mouth opened and closed and nothing came out, and Susana slowly slid the hem of her nightgown up her long, slender legs, inviting me to stroke her silken thighs. She opened her legs and placed a manicured hand down over her labia, then parted the lips with the first and third fingers, showing me the beauty of her pink slit, just waiting for my hungry tongue. My anger with her completely forgotten, I plunged my tongue into the warm, oozing depths of her cunt. She moaned, and said, 'In a day or two, I'll whip you, too, if you'd like me to.' Forcing myself to pull out of her for just long enough to reply, I heard myself say, 'Oh yes, Susana, yes please!' What on earth had I just said? That was my first thought when Susana' slender hips bucked and heaved as grasped my hair painfully and gave a short cry from somewhere deep in her throat. But I concentrated on lapping her ample, sweet, musky juices, and put my own fate to the back of my mind. Susana pulled me up to join her on the couch now, and kissed me tenderly. 'Don't worry about Adela, darling, and please on no account be jealous. She is just our servant – I will let you have her soon. Now kiss me, then let me go and change, and we shall go and have a picnic.' She left me practically gaping. In the last few minutes, I had not only agreed to be whipped, but the lady I had blithely accepted as my Mistress had offered to 'let me have' another young and beautiful woman. Just what had I got into? While I was still pondering the remarkable changes my life was undergoing, Susana reappeared, looking ravishing in a short white pleated tennis skirt and a sky-blue silk shirt, with a long string of pearls hanging around her elegant neck, and matching little ear-rings. She wore, for her, low heels, no more than a couple of inches. 'You look tremendous,' I told her, and she almost purred as we collected a hamper that Adela had prepared for us from the kitchen door. We drove out to a riverside site Susana must have visited many times before, and sat in the shade of big, leafy poplars and eucalyptus trees as we enjoyed our picnic. All my resolve about going back to England was way behind me now, as I drank in the lovely Spanish warmth, Susana's intoxicating nearness, as we sat at the wooden table, and her soothing words, as she described gently to me what my life with her would become. When I tried to get her to be specific, she was always reluctant, repeating that I had much to learn, that the learning was the point in itself, and that I would experience pleasures I couldn't have dreamed of. The message was clear: I had to trust her, or go! Go for it, girl, I thought! I remembered suddenly the awfulness of my marriage, and Susana, seeing the cloud pass over my face, put a hand on my knee, and slid it smoothly upwards. I took her other hand, and held it to my cheek, accompanied by its whiff of Guerlain, and kissed the tips of her fingers. The arrival of a noisy family put a stop to our idyll, and reluctantly we had to pack up the things and head for home. 'I think we'll go out for dinner tonight, darling,' said Susana, as we drove back into the heavy Madrid traffic, 'let's dress up, shall we?' 'What should I wear?' I fussed, as we sat naked around the pool, making the most of the late afternoon sunshine. 'Don't worry, I've got just the thing for you,' said Susana, 'I'll have Adela go and fetch it for you from my store-room. She'll need to help you dress anyway.' 'Please don't go to all that trouble, Susana – all those lovely things we bought, surely there's something that will do?' 'Wait and see, Sylvia,' she said, 'this is really special. If I'm right, you'll feel like you've never felt before.' 'What can be so special about a dress?' I asked, 'yes, I feel good in nice clothes, but there are limits.' She looked at me oddly, as if trying to decide how much to say, then bit her lower lip and said, 'remember how you felt in the corset? That strange excitement, like when you wear very high, uncomfortably high, heels? The excitement that makes you wet? She ran her tongue around her luscious lips as she spoke, and her eyelids dropped a fraction. She continued, 'Well, multiply it by ten, and you have an inkling how you may feel in this dress, knowing eyes are on you, but, above all, feeling your own sexuality. Wait and see!' I noticed her hand had strayed to her pussy as she spoke, and her mouth was open just enough for me to see the tip of her tongue. Involuntarily, my own hand took on a life of its own, as I watched my Mistress quietly masturbate, and found its inexorable way to my slit, which seemed to be perpetually damp. My clitoris was questing, waiting for my touch, and the merest flick of my finger brought an electric sensation to my innermost depths. I looked at Susana's slender body, at those erect nipples I loved so much, and she was watching me from under those hooded lids, just a few feet away, two fingers of one hand now deep into her vagina, the other hand stroking the sensitive area between her pussy and her anus. Suddenly, she closed her eyes, gave a little cry, and her whole body shook as she came. The sight of her climaxing, just like that, was too much for me, too, and there was nothing I could do, even had I wanted to, to prevent a lovely, silken orgasm from carrying me away to paradise. I must have fallen asleep on the sun-lounger then, because the sun was distinctly lower in the sky when I felt a kiss on my forehead, and Susana threw a robe over me. 'Come on,' she said, 'time to get ready!' I showered in a very leisurely fashion, took my time also about checking my whole body for any re-growth of hair to take off, and then sat down to attend to my hair and make-up. I wanted to be beautiful for my Mistress that evening. A knock on my door announced Adela, who had a heavy-looking dress over both arms, which she draped over the bed. I got up to have a look at it, and realised that Adela was appraising my naked body. 'Usted es muy guapa, señorita Sylvia!' she said, and I already knew enough Spanish to know she was paying me a complement. I smiled, and felt the dress she had laid down. It was of dark green satin, with black trim, but Adela gestured for me to stand still while she helped me on with it. I had a bit of a struggle to get into it, despite my relatively slim body, and the satin felt fantastic against my skin. It had long sleeves and a high neck, but the neckline took the form of a collar, from which the bodice, if such it could be called, was suspended, in two halves, to the waist, just covering my aureolas, so that the full swell of my breasts could be seen. But the skirt was the dress's most remarkable feature. Although it was tight as soon as I had stepped into it, and zipped it up, I hadn't understood the significance of the criss-cross black cord lacing all the way from waist to my calves. Now Adela attended to it, and systematically pulled the laces tight all the way down, so that I was now so tightly sheathed in satin that I could scarcely walk. With a little difficulty I sat down on the bed, while Adela chose a pair of heels for me, and slipped them onto my feet. She also helped me pick out gold hoop ear-rings she thought would go with my outfit, and then left silently. Looking at the clock on my bedside table, I saw that it was nearly time to go, and was suddenly eager for Susana to see me in the dress she had chosen for me. I had to go downstairs sideways, and take tiny steps. When I got to the entrance hall, she was waiting for me. I had almost been expecting her to wear a dress like mine. But no, she wore a long, flowing brown silk backless gown – she looked like a princess. 'I....I thought...' I started. 'You thought I would wear something like you, didn't you, dear?' she said, kindly enough, 'but I don't have to, I'm your Mistress! Now come along, the taxi's waiting.' In the taxi, she held my hand, and told me how proud she was going to be to show me off at her favourite restaurant. When we arrived, she led me into the huge dining room, where mainly same-sex couples seemed to be sat, though there were some heterosexual couples too. As I tottered down the aisle between tables, I could feel eyes boring into me. The extreme restraint of the skirt, coupled with the heels, was like an aphrodisiac, and when we sat down, Susana said, 'You look flushed, darling!' 'I feel hot,' I said, and touched her hand on top of the table. 'I know, darling, and I forgot your little yellow friend tonight,' she said. 'Christ,' I said, 'If I'd had that in, as well as this skirt, I don't know how I'd have got here!' We had an excellent meal, enjoying the very many envious glances in our direction, and afterwards had a smooch around the little dance floor in each other's arms, as I drank in Susana's warmth and womanly scent. After a while, I said, 'Sorry, Susana, but I've got to go!' She looked at me and laughed, understanding that I needed a pee, and couldn't possibly get my skirt on and off unaided. She took me by the hand and led me to the ladies room, where she unlaced me, and helped me wriggle out of the skirt, in the confined space of a cubicle. When I sat down, with great relief, to let the yellow stream flood out, my Mistress amazed me by dropping to her knees in her gorgeous silk gown, and putting her had down between my legs, in the toilet bowl, to feel the hot stream of piss I was jetting out. Her hand travelled up to my soaking crack, and I loved the feel of her there, fondling me in my wetness, before she dried me with a paper towel. 'I love you, Susana,' I said, as she helped me back into the exciting restraint of my skirt. She kissed me, letting her tongue linger in my mouth for a few seconds. We danced, or at least smooched around on the floor, for a while longer, attracting a lot of envious looks from bystanders. Susana deliberately pushed my hands down so that they were on her buttocks, and I loved the liquid movement of them, knowing them to be naked under the soft, thin silk of her dress. In the taxi, on the way home, she held my hand all the way, and once we were home she said, 'Would you like to sleep with me tonight, Sylvia?' I needed no second invitation, and was only gone long enough to undress and put on a short black silk slip. But when I got back to my Mistress's bedroom, she had on an identical garment, and we giggled like two schoolgirls, before falling into her huge bed, and a loving embrace. We stroked and kissed each other to sleep, which came quickly, and were still entwined together when I awoke as daylight streamed through the shutters. I kissed my Mistress awake, and she smiled at me, saying, 'How lovely to be awoken like that!' She pressed a buzzer beside the bed, and Adela knocked and entered within minutes. She seemed not at all surprised to find me there, and took our order for coffee, rolls and juice. Later, when we had had breakfast, Susana told Adela to leave the tray alone a moment and come and beckoned to her to stand by the bed. I didn't catch what she asked her to do, but Adela put a slim, bare knee on the bed beside me, and raised her little black silk miniskirt so that I could see her shaven pussy, inches from my face. The silver ring I had glimpsed before was now revealed, dangling from her clitoris! 'There, darling,' said Susana, 'don't you think that looks perfectly heavenly?' I was bound to agree - I found it extremely erotic, and said something to that effect. Adela started to lower her skirt, but Susana said, 'No, my dear, don't move for a moment!' She reached into her bedside cabinet and found a short chain of three silver links, one end of which was a spring-link. She turned to Adela and clipped the chain to her ring, saying something to her which again I failed to understand. The pretty maid walked self-consciously out of the room with the breakfast tray. 'What did you tell her?' I wanted to know. 'That, for the time being, she must wear the chain whenever she is in the house. I like it.' She was silent for a while, as she pondered what to wear, then she turned to me and said, 'Sylvia, I wanted you to see Adela's ring because I want you to have one fitted. I think it would be very beautiful on you.' I didn't know what to say. I'd actually thought about having my navel done in the past, but never got around to it. As for my clit! 'Wouldn't it hurt?' was all I could think off asking. 'Adela said it only hurt for a second or two, but it gave her a terrific orgasm as well.' 'I suppose if you want me to have it done..........' 'That's settled, then – and you can have a tongue-stud at the same time!' 'I.....I...!' I started to protest weakly, but she had already marched out of the room, and into her adjoining bathroom. I heard the shower running. In no time at all, she was back, her hair soaking, enveloped in a white towelling robe. Sylvia's Switch Ch. 02 'Off you go, and dress,' she said, 'I've got a business meeting this morning, and I'll arrange for Adela to take you off to get done.' I opened my mouth to say something, but knew it was pointless, and meekly went off to shower and dress. By the time I came downstairs, dressed in flared cotton miniskirt and tank-top, Adela was waiting for me, clad in a cotton print sundress. Susana was using Lola, the chauffeuse, herself, so we had to call a taxi into the city. I hadn't been looking forward to spending the morning with Adela, as we had few words in common, but she sought my hand in the back seat of the taxi, and looked at me in a very friendly way as we did our best to overcome the language barrier. She could tell I was nervous, and, in her effort to calm me, she stroked my thigh with her long, sensitive fingers in such a way that I was getting aroused before we arrived at our destination, and held her slim wrist for a moment as her hand reached close to the top of my thigh. I sought her eyes with mine, and we both knew there was feeling within that transcended our linguistic differences. Deliberately, I looked away. Whatever had happened to me? No time at all ago, I was a respectable married woman in England. Now, here I was, the love-slave of a Spanish Countess, contemplating an affair with her maid! Shit! And going to get myself pierced as well! The cab drew up in a busy street, beside the end of a narrow alleyway. Adela took out her purse and paid the driver, and we set off down the shady alley, our heels clicking on the hard stone paving. Halfway down, Adela stopped, and pressed a button, one of several, beside an oak door. A buzzer sounded, and the door opened to her touch. We entered and rode up to the fifth floor in a clean modern lift. There was only one door on the fifth, and that was a glass one, through which we went, into an airy reception room, where we were met by a businesslike girl in a white coat, and shown straight into the 'surgery' – about as unlike my idea of a sleazy piercing parlour as you could imagine. Here another, older woman, perhaps in her forties, and very attractive, also in a white coat, awaited us. She addressed me in broken English, 'Ah, so you are the lovely Sylvia I hear much of? And you will be pierced, yes? I think Susana has good taste. Please sit!' She signalled me to sit in a contrivance like a dentist's chair, but with stirrups for my legs. 'We do your coñito first, yes? Let me have a look.' She pushed up my short skirt, and seeing I wore no panties, turned to Adela, and said, '¿Marca de la casa, eh?' – (trademark?) and they both laughed. She then got serious, and inspected my pussy, pulling my labia this way and that. Her touch was gentle, and soothing, though, and I found it not at all displeasing, and when she pinched my clit, I felt it respond and an inevitable wetness start to form deep within my cunt. 'Yes,' she said, 'you have nice clitoris. I give you ring like has Adela, OK?' 'Please don't hurt me!' I begged. 'I think it will hurt a little for a moment, but you will like!' she smiled, and brushed my cheek with her cool hand. Adela came and held my hand, kneading my fingers gently in hers, while the woman took her piercing tool from the sterilising box, and selected a ring identical to Adela's. 'Now,' she said, and moved into place between my legs. Again I felt her cool fingers probing, felt the sudden thrill as she pinched my now-excited nub, then a sudden, sharp, awful, wonderful pain as my most intimate place was pierced by the cruel implement, and the ring placed, in one smooth movement. 'Oh, oh,' I cried, and shuddered as I felt the power of the predicted orgasm wash over me. When I opened my eyes, the woman was cradling my head in her arms. 'My name is Maria José,' she said, 'if you want to know.' 'Oh yes,' I said, 'thank you!' 'Now we do your tongue, OK?' I was still shell-shocked, and made no protest, just put out my tongue, and let her spray it with a local anaesthetic, then use another piercing tool on it, and fit me with a pretty little silver bar-bell. Whilst I was there, I thought I might as well have my navel done too, which I hoped would please Susana further, and Maria José duly obliged. She gave me full instructions about hygiene. I was to use antiseptic mouthwash for at least two weeks, bathe my pussy and navel regularly with a solution she gave me, and 'no sex for four days at least!' – Oh shit! When I walked out, I don't think I've ever felt stranger in my life. The ring in my clit felt like a ton weight, and when I spoke, I thought my voice belonged to someone else, as my tongue had an effect on all the sounds I produced. I wondered if I'd ever get used to my decorations. Adela was very sweet, however, and comforted me on the way home in the taxi. I was beginning to like her a lot, and remembered Susana's words, 'I will let you have her soon.' I looked forward to that, if it meant sleeping with her. When we got home, Susana was still away at her meeting, but she arrived soon afterwards, and was eager to see my new piercings. Dutifully, I lifted my skirt, and she looked critically at my pussy, before pronouncing herself satisfied. I put out my tongue for her, and she said she liked that even better. 'When that's had a day or two to heal up, I want to feel that around my pussy, darling,' she told me. I also showed her my navel, and she told me I must always wear something hanging from it. 'After all,' she said, 'I didn't tell you to have that done, did I? Maybe I shall punish you for that at some point. We shall see.' I couldn't believe she had said that to me, nor its effect on me. I took it almost as a matter of course, and found myself wondering what form her punishment may take, rather than rile at the injustice of it. I told her that Maria José had warned me off sex for four days, and she snorted. 'That gives us a chance to work on your anus, doesn't it, dear?' she said, 'we can go back to your little yellow friend now!' When I sat down to lunch, Susana handed me the yellow anal dildo again, ready-lubricated, complete with its tube. 'Do you want me to put it in now?' I asked. 'There's no time like the present.' I reached down and slipped it, quite easily this time, up my back passage, and handed the bulb to Susana, who began to pump. 'Oh no! No more!' I cried, as she pumped the tube wider and wider, until I thought it would tear me. She gave it two more vigorous pumps, and I writhed with agony – I was filled by the huge diameter of the now enormous invader, close to splitting my virgin arsehole, I was sure. 'Get up and walk around the table!' she ordered. 'I couldn't!' I protested. 'You can, and you will!' she said, 'I will not be disobeyed!' there was steel in her voice which I had never heard before, and which both frightened and thrilled me. I stood up and walked around the table, my anus feeling as if it had a rolling-pin in it, my sore clitoris, with its strange weight hanging there, another reminder of my descent into slavery. Then why did I feel proud to serve my Mistress? What was it that made me yearn for her touch, want her desperately to praise me, even more perhaps to punish me – but that didn't bear thinking about. Or did it? 'We'll keep it like that during lunch,' she said, 'then I'll let some air out before I go out this afternoon. You can keep it there the rest of the day.' 'Is that my punishment?' I asked. 'Good heavens no,' she replied, 'it's your pleasure, my dear. When I decide to punish you, I shall whip you. Now let's have some lunch.' That afternoon, Susana took Adela with her to help with the store-room, as she had bought a lot of new stock. They arrived late for dinner and Susana went straight to bed afterwards, with scarcely a word for me. Next morning, when I got up, the house was empty, but I found a breakfast tray, and a peremptory note saying that a cold lunch was in the fridge for me. Feeling snubbed, I spent the day studying Spanish, all the time acutely aware of the soreness of my new piercings. When Susana and Adela arrived home at around eight in the evening, they were obviously tired out, and I had prepared salads and laid the table in readiness. I had steaks on the grill, and wine already open. 'Come here!' she said, as I brought her dinner in to her. I came and stood by her side, and she put her hand up my skirt, touching my clit-ring. 'Still sore?' she asked. 'Yes.' 'And have you kept the other thing in?' Her hand moved up to my nether hole, where I had grown more accustomed to the presence of the invading tube. 'Yes,' she said, 'you please me, Sylvia. You are a good slave.' I basked in her praise, and felt a glow of pride, the like of which I hadn't felt in my adult life. I loved her with all my heart. When we had eaten, she came around to my place at the table, and said, 'I'm very tired, darling. I must go to bed and sleep now, even though I had hoped for an evening together. Tomorrow, we shall be back earlier. I think it's high time you were introduced to the whip then, don't you?' 'But, Susana, I thought I had pleased you?' 'Oh, you have, my dear, you have! Good night, darling. Sleep well.' I did sleep remarkably well, all things considered, and once again was alone in the house when I got up. I spent another morning studying verb tables, and lazing around the pool, and found that the soreness was completely gone from my tongue and navel, and almost completely from my clitoris. I did some tidying up in the afternoon, and then tried to make myself beautiful for my Mistress, attending carefully to my hair and make-up, even rouging my nipples and pussy-lips. After a moment's debate with myself, I took the yellow plug out of my arsehole, but tried pushing it back in and out few times, and found it went easily to and fro, and quickly brought me to the very edge of an orgasm. I put it aside for the moment, thinking I would tell Susana, and see what she wanted me to do. I rifled through the clothes in my wardrobe until I came to what I thought would please my Mistress most. I hardly dared wear it, but didn't expect we should have visitors, as we hadn't had any up to now. Oh, what the hell, I thought, and put it on. The dress was a long black lace creation, completely transparent, so that my rouged nipples could clearly be seen. I had a further thought, and put a silver chain around my waist, and fishing round in my ample jewellery box, found a silver chain, which may have been designed as a bracelet, which I clipped to my clit ring, fastening the other end to the loose end of the waist-chain. Smoothing my dress back down, stepping into a pair of metallic-heeled stilettos, and doing a twirl in front of the mirror, I said, 'God, Sylvia, you look fucking sexy!' Soon afterwards, I heard Susana's car arrive, and clicked downstairs in my heels to greet her. 'Mmmm,' she said, 'have you been getting ready all day?' I didn't know if she was criticising me, but when she kissed me, I took care to let my new stud roam around her tongue and click against her teeth, and she pushed me gently away, saying, 'not just now, darling, I need to shower and change. Come up to my room in fifteen minutes, will you?' I could hardly wait, and fifteen minutes passed so slowly – I had been waiting for her all day. When the time finally came around, I walked up the stairs and let myself into her room. There seemed to be no-one there. 'In here, darling!' she called from the bathroom, and I walked into the huge bathroom. Susana was stood beside the vanity unit, wearing a black silk negligee, and holding a sinister-looking leather riding-crop. 'Go and stand in the shower!' she said. I started to unzip my dress, saying, 'but I've already....' 'I said go and stand in the fucking shower! Nothing about getting undressed!' Trembling now, I did as she told me. The next thing I knew, my wrists were manacled to the shower fitting above my head. 'Susana!' I yelled, 'what have I done? I dressed up for you, and....? 'Shut up, you bitch,' she said, and tears sprang to my eyes. They were silenced as a sudden terrible jet of cold water cascaded out of the shower-head, taking my breath away, and moulding the dress to my body like a second skin. Before I had chance to even breathe, there was a pain such as I have never known across my upper back, as Susana lashed my tender flesh with the crop, the thin soaked lace only adding to the sting of the lash. I yelped as she lashed me again, lower down on my back, then I felt her tear the dress's flimsy material, so that she could see her target better. Three more vicious strokes, this time to my naked, wet skin, I had to endure, but she turned the water off for the last two, and I heard her murmur words to me, in Spanish, that I knew she didn't realise I understood. Coincidental with her final, awful lash, I had the most tremendous orgasm I had ever had in my life – I think I actually lost consciousness for a few moments. When she took me down, there were tears in her eyes. 'Forgive me, Sylvia,' she said, 'I love you.' 'Of course I forgive you,' I heard myself saying, 'I love you too.' That night, she gave me Adela to sleep with, and we made gentle, tender love, my new-found Spanish coming in handy. And each morning, in a temporary reversal of roles, Susana brought us in a breakfast tray. I had made my switch to a new life – there was no return. Sylvia's Switch Ch. 03 There was no point in time when I could say that I had suddenly become a Lesbian. Falling in love with Susana had just been the most natural thing for me, and the process of becoming her slave? Well, I couldn't begin to explain that. I think I mentioned earlier that my husband Jason and I had watched a video of 'The Story of O' -- what now seemed like centuries ago, so I suppose I had always entertained vaguely masochistic thoughts, but that they had surfaced now, and with the loving, beautiful Susana as my mistress, had taken me completely by surprise. Susana was generous in her love, and appeared to take pleasure in seeing me embracing and caressing her maid, Adela. One night she would come and kiss both of us, then quietly leave us alone, smiling enigmatically. The next night, I would find myself summoned to my mistress's bed for all or part of the night. Or maybe Adela would be whisked away, and I would be left alone -- my mistress was capriciously unpredictable. After I had been with Susana several months, she telephoned me from her car one afternoon. It was a bit unusual. 'Sylvia,' she said, 'I have a little surprise for you. Please ask Adela to prepare suitcases for both of us. We are going to Mexico tomorrow.' 'Mexico? Tomorrow?' I spluttered, 'but....' She laughed lightly at my obvious surprise, and told me she would explain when she got home. And so she did. It seemed she had a partnership in a chain of luxury stores over there, and had been invited to spend some time visiting them as a guest of her partner, Marina Salinas Lundgren. I was apparently included in the invitation. The tedium of the ten hour flight was alleviated a little by the fact that we were in first class, and soon after we landed at Cancun, we were met by a uniformed black chauffeur, and shown to a stretch limo. Susana had explained that Marina had arranged to meet us in Cancun, rather than the capital city, as she had a villa near to the airport, and one of the stores was in a big commercial centre there. I thought Susana's house in Madrid was palatial, but it was a shack compared to Marina's villa, overlooking a quiet, palm-fringed, dazzlingly-white beach south of Cancun. Two pretty uniformed maids met us at the door, as soon as the limo discharged us, and our luggage was efficiently carted in. As we entered the palatial entrance hall, we were faced with a slender, statuesque blonde, wearing a sleek black cocktail dress and heels. Susana introduced me to Marina, and her intense blue eyes bored into me. Her eyes and the shining gold hair obviously came from her Swedish mother, whilst her Mexican father had bequeathed to her her faultless olive skin. She spoke perfect English, and seemed amused by my silver-studded collar, which I could tell she immediately recognised as an indication of my status. 'I shall introduce you to Ingmar shortly,' she said, 'I have sent her shopping, but she should be back soon.' She realised we would be tired after our long flight, and told us she wouldn't show us around the house until the next morning. To our gratitude, she had the maids take us to our rooms, telling us that we had an hour 'to dress for dinner' -- then she supposed we should want to turn in. In my case, at least, she supposed correctly! Marina had put Susana and myself in adjoining rooms; that is, we shared a huge, palatial bathroom between our bedrooms, with a massive Jacuzzi, and a big common dressing room, lined with mirrored wardrobes. When I slid back the doors, I gasped, as they were full of gorgeous clothes. 'We are meant to help ourselves to them,' said Susana, with perfect certainty. When I looked at her doubtfully, she said, 'Marina is my oldest friend, and partner, my dear -- trust me!' I had wondered at how little baggage Adela had prepared for us, and now I knew why that was, as I stepped, somewhat refreshed, out of the shower, and picked a simple long black sheath dress. Around my waist, I clipped a heavy silver chain, stepped into a pair of silver stilettos, and sat at my dressing table to brush out my long auburn hair until it shone. I thought I was still showing signs of having been up a long time, but I would pass! In my mirror, I saw my mistress's image looming behind me, and he came and stroked my hair lovingly, trailing her long fingers around for me to kiss. I took two or three into my mouth and bit them gently, looking at her beautiful face. She looked as if she had just emerged from a beauty salon, her make-up immaculate on flawless skin, her black hair taken up in an aristocratic French knot. She wore long, long silver ear-rings, which brushed her bare, slender shoulders, on which rested the spaghetti-straps of her long white lace dress. I turned to drink in the sight of her. Her nipples must have been rouged, as they were prominent through the lace, her small breasts hardly doing more than making points in her dress. Below, she wore tiny black lace panties under the dress, tied at the sides with ribbons. White stilettos completed her outfit. The effect was stunning. 'Mistress Susana,' I said, 'you look wonderful!' She let me kiss her, relishing the familiar feel of my tongue-stud, as I let it dart into her mouth, but then pushed me away. 'Come along,' she said, 'we'll be late for dinner.' When we got down to the dining room, our hostess was standing there waiting for us. She too had changed, and I thought she looked amazing. She wore a shimmering gold backless dress of a material so light it seemed to float around her, emphasising her firm round breasts and spectacular figure. Her hair, which she had previously had caught up in a pony-tail, now cascaded down almost to her waist. When my mistress kissed her, I had to suppress a pang of jealousy. As we made small talk, the door opened and in walked a tall, willowy blonde, wearing, I noticed, a silver studded collar, just like mine. Her hair was so blonde it was nearly white, and was tied up severely in a knot on top of her head. She wore, incongruously, a completely transparent white nightdress, mid-thigh-length, tied at the shoulders by big ribbons, with a line of fur at the hem. The only other apparel she wore was a pair of long white hold-ups, and white stilettos were on her feet. Her unfettered breasts jiggled as she walked proudly into the room, and stood beside Marina. I did a double-take, at her startling appearance, but Susana didn't appear in the least surprised. Marina saw me looking at Ingmar, and introduced us then, saying simply, 'Ingmar is my slave, aren't you, darling?' Ingmar smiled, showing rows of even white teeth, 'Yes, mistress!' 'I think our dinner is ready,' said Marina, 'shall we eat?' I was too hungry and tired to think too much about Ingmar, Marina, or anything else, as we ate our meal, and could scarcely even remember going to bed. I slept for a long time. Next morning, I awoke to sunshine, feeling amazingly refreshed. As my mistress and I took breakfast alone in the dining room, I asked her in a whisper what she made of Ingmar. 'Why, she's Marina's slave,' she replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 'But -- but, the way she was dressed last night?' I insisted. Susana looked at me, no more than a hint of amusement on her lips, 'I thought it charming, darling,' she said. I didn't pursue the matter. After breakfast, we went up to our room to dress. I asked my mistress what she wanted me to wear, wondering if I was about to be compelled to wear something bizarre, like Ingmar. In the event, she pulled out a pleated cotton miniskirt and a white silk blouse -- an outfit she knew was just about my favourite, while she herself dressed in a starched cotton print button-through dress. While I tended her soft black hair, she fondled my pussy, making me gasp with pleasure, as she knew just how to bring me rapidly to the brink of orgasm with her slim fingers. She stopped. 'Come on,' she said, suddenly, 'it wouldn't do to get started now -- Marina wants to show us around the house, and then take us to see her store; we'd better get moving.' 'Oh, mistress,' I said, trying to keep the sulkiness out of my voice, 'and I do so want you!' 'I know, my dear,' she said, but she had moved away, and was slipping into her heels. Marina was waiting for us in the entrance hall, formally dressed in a lightweight suit, and accompanied by Ingmar, who, although, like myself, was still wearing her collar, was dressed in much more 'normal' fashion, in a flowered print sundress and high-heeled sandals. Her blonde hair was down, loosely tied in a pony-tail. She followed silently as her mistress led us around, showing us the huge swimming pool, the gymnasium, and the beautiful gardens overlooking the shining blue Caribbean. When she led us back into the house, it as through a low-level garage, off which she took us through a locked door into a short passageway, and then into a cool underground room, like a cavern. She flipped on the light, and the cavern was lit by four artificial torches in wall-sconces. Closing the door behind us, Marina stood back and allowed us to take in the scene. 'Welcome to my dungeon!' she said. There was a big wooden St. Andrew's Cross, bolted to the far wall, with ringbolts set into its extremities, and snap-links dangling from each of them. A big table, with wheels and pulleys stood at one side, and beside it were a variety of benches, saw-horses and the like. A black velvet curtain was drawn across a recess, concealing God knew what, and there was a wide variety of whips and the like hanging from hooks on the near wall. There were no windows, and the whole atmosphere was deathly quiet. I looked at the faces of the others. My mistress was studying the implements on the walls, apparently engrossed, Marina had a smile playing around her lips, as she watched our reactions, and Ingmar was regarding her mistress with adoring eyes. 'Impressive!' said my mistress, as we left. 'We may have a little entertainment down there later,' said Marina, 'if you like, of course.' She looked at Susana as she said this, and then slipped her arm through my mistress's as we walked around the side of the house. My mistress looked up at her taller hostess, and smiled a smile of complicity. I felt almost faint with an ugly jealousy I hated to admit. We got into the same stretch limo we had arrived in the night before, and drove perhaps twenty-five kilometres, past hotels and a golf course, until we arrived at a huge, modern commercial centre, where we parked in the executives' spaces. The store was big, and luxurious, the clientele obviously well-heeled and cosmopolitan - I heard American as well as Mexican-Spanish voices. All the assistants seemed to be Scandinavian, and Marina indeed confirmed that she liked to employ pretty Swedish girls, as she felt it gave her a competitive edge. I could tell my mistress was much taken by the shop, and especially by the special 'fetish' section, not exactly entitled as such, but sporting black walls and drapes, and featuring corsets and other 'restraint' gear, such as hobble skirts and some very high heels. When we broke for lunch, my mistress and Marina blatantly fondled one another under the table as they sat opposite. Mistress Susana's mouth fell slightly open, her breathing shortened, her eyes narrowed, as she clearly enjoyed the other woman's caresses. I was dismayed, and felt badly let down. Looking across at Ingmar, I thought she was feeling the same way, but that was no consolation. When we got back to the mansion, I left the others in the entrance hall, and went straight up to my room. I threw myself onto my bed, and sobbed. How could she do this to me? My beloved mistress? How could she? I never heard the door open -- but suddenly, as if by magic, my mistress was sitting beside me, wiping away my tears with the hem of her dress. 'You silly, silly girl,' she said, 'I do believe you are really jealous -- jealous of Marina! How can you be? Marina is an old friend, and my partner, but you are mine, my dear Sylvia, a part of my very soul. I love you, you silly girl!' With that she lithely hopped onto the bed, and drew me to her, kissing me deeply, before flinging her legs wide apart, and pushing my head down below her waist. Not wearing underwear had its points, I thought, as I felt the flat smoothness of her shaven belly against my cheek. Her legs were splayed as far apart as she could, and the glistening pink beauty of her exposed pussy was just asking to be kissed. I obliged, lapping her with my hungry tongue, encircling her growing, hardening clit as it emerged from its hiding place, teasing it with my stud, until she writhed and moaned. When she did so, I plunged my tongue deep into the dark hole of her warm, wet cunt, and simultaneously drove two long fingers into her arsehole. I knew exactly what my mistress liked, what brought her off, and her orgasm had the effect of bringing me to a climax without her having to even touch me. When she recovered, her breathing back to normal, she said, 'But, Sylvia, my dear, what about you?' 'I am your slave, my mistress,' I said, 'it is more than enough to know that you love me.' 'But can I not do anything for you, darling?' asked Susana. 'You can hurt me some time soon,' I heard myself say, in a small voice. 'Oh, Sylvia,' she said, 'I love you so much!' In the late afternoon, we spent some time relaxing around the pool, and I saw Marina speak to Susana before we all went in to get ready for dinner. Susana called to me as I was showering. 'A maid has left your clothes on your bed, my dear. And she will be back to put your hair up.' When I had dried myself, I went to see what I was to wear, and was surprised to find a sheer white short nightdress, fur-trimmed at the hem, and a pair of long white stockings -- exactly, in fact, what Ingmar had worn the night before. In my robe, I went through to ask my mistress what this was all about. She explained that Marina had told her that it was the 'house rule' that slaves were so dressed for dinner, especially if guests were invited. 'Oh,' I asked, 'and are guests expected?' 'I think one or two are due,' said Susana. I slipped into the nightdress, and looked at my reflection in the big wardrobe mirror -- I may as well have been completely naked. My mistress completed my erotic appearance by insisting that I clip a chain of three heavy silver links onto my clit-ring. It would be quite visible, dangling below the hem of my nightdress. I slipped on a pair of very high silver stilettos, and, when a knock came on the door, admitted the maid, and meekly allowed her to put my hair up in a nice swirl atop my head. Taking great care with my make-up, as ever, I had to admit, that I felt very sexy, and my unfettered breasts looked really good under the filmy white material, my nipples hardened in anticipation for what I suspected was going to be an exciting evening. Now that I was so much more confident of my mistress's feelings for me, I felt ready for anything. When we entered the dining room, I could see that some changes had been wrought. Apart from the fact that there were two new women there, the table had been changed, for a larger one, with what appeared to be a turntable at its centre. I also saw that there were five chairs instead of four. But why, I wondered, five, and not six, if there were two new women present? I thought one of the women was familiar -- she seemed to have been at the store this morning -- the manageress? In any case, a beautiful, curvaceous blonde. The other, I had never seen before. She was a cat-like, lithe, coffee-coloured girl with braided hair, and slanting, almond eyes, wearing a towelling robe. The manageress -- for such she was, I was told -- Eva, was dressed in a gorgeous red silk creation with a plunging neckline, whilst my mistress again wore the white lace dress with the spaghettis straps she had worn the previous night -- or one very like it. Only tonight, she was obviously naked underneath it, having decided to go without the lace panties she had worn the night before. Our hostess was dressed in black velvet -- again backless, and the picture of elegance. Ingmar and I, of course, were readily identifiable as slaves! Marina told us to take our places, and I focussed then on the chairs, for the first time. They were unusual -- heavy, wide armchairs, with some sort of mechanism beneath. Mine was comfortable, somehow moulded to my backside. But Marina was addressing us. 'I hope none of you is wearing panties?' She went on, with scarcely a pause, 'If your dress is between you and your chair, please lift it out of the way, then relax the appropriate muscles, and press the large red button on the right hand arm of your chair. I can promise you a pleasant sensation.' She smiled and watched all of our faces in turn. It was obvious enough what was about to happen, but the sheer sensation of the pre-lubricated, shaped dildo slowly but inexorably driving upwards into my cunt was exquisite, and had me squirming as its full length entered me. 'Now turn the little wheel at the side, for the level of vibration,' said our host, and I adjusted that too, feeling a lovely warm rippling in the very depths of my vagina. I glanced around, and some had their eyes half-shut, lips parted, as they all enjoyed their experiences. The food was served, and we all ate in silence, wrapped up in our own sexuality, but, as we were finishing our sweets, the girl in the bath-robe, who had not been eating with us, appeared from behind me, flung down her robe, and leapt athletically across into the centre of the table. Marina pressed a button somewhere, and the turntable the girl had jumped onto started slowly and silently to revolve. If we had expected a standard striptease, we were now disappointed, because the girl was already naked, apart from a fine gold chain around her waist, and a matching one on one ankle. She also sported long gold pendant ear-rings, and a gold dumb-bell through her pierced clit. She was immaculately made-up and manicured, and was altogether a magnificent creature. I don't think there was anyone around the table who wouldn't have taken her to their bed. Music played softly as a spotlight played on this gorgeous creature, ho started to run her fingers through her hairless crack, slowly at first, then, opening her legs ever wider, faster, moaning audibly as she opened her labia with two long-nailed fingers, and manipulated, kneaded, her pussy, showing the black hole of her cunt as widely as she could stretch it, to everyone. She now switched her attention to her clit, teasing it from under its protective hood, easing it out until its shining head stood proud like a little prick, its decoration lewd and suggestive. She flipped over, and opened up her arse-cheeks with both hands, accepting a huge glass dildo as it was passed to her by Marina. She gave it a quick suck, and then rammed it straight into her anus, its corrugation readily accepted into her velvet tube. She groaned, then took it out, and put it aside. As the turntable revolved now, she was holding her buttocks wide apart again, this time demonstrating a huge gaping arsehole. Now she returned to sitting position, and started to masturbate hard, using two long fingers, and now moaning deeply. Suddenly, she stiffened, let out a long, low groan, and squirted copious quantities of vaginal fluid out and actually over most of our heads, although some fell on Ingmar, who laughed nervously. We all applauded, and Marina, stopping the revolutions, handed the girl from the stage, awkwardly stepping over the table. 'We'll have coffee now,' she said, 'then the rest of the evening's entertainment.' We sat around and drank coffee for a while, during which our recent entertainment re-appeared, to be introduced to us as Vanessa -- but this time she was dressed exactly like Ingmar and I. It transpired she was Eva's slave. Sylvia's Switch Ch. 03 Marina and Ingmar had disappeared, but now they returned, Marina having changed into a black dress, its bodice consisting of a tightly laced corset, above which her ample breasts perched free. The skirt too was tight, zippered down to below her knees, then ending in a train which trailed behind her. Her blonde hair was loose, and framed her beautiful face, cascading down over her naked shoulders. She held a chain-leash in her hand, the other end of which was attached to Ingmar's collar. In the other hand she had two more leashes, which she handed to Eva and Susana. Vanessa and I were duly attached. 'Right,' announced Marina, smilingly, 'now we can all go down to my dungeon.' She led the way, Ingmar trotting along behind like a pet spaniel on her leash. Once we were all in the dungeon, Marina pulled her slave into the centre of the floor, and motioned to the rest of us to sit on the upholstered bench that ran along one wall. 'Ingmar has been my loyal slave now for about four months,' she told us, 'and she has repeatedly begged me to whip her, haven't you, darling?' Ingmar just looked up at her mistress, eyes like saucers. 'Haven't you?' she repeated, harshly. 'Yes, mistress,' said Ingmar, still looking adoringly up at her taller mistress. 'And you really do want me to hurt you, you little slut, don't you?' 'Yes mistress,' she whispered, scarcely audibly. 'You can ask me better than that!' rapped Marina, and slapped her face with a sharp, stinging blow that echoed around the room. 'Oh,' she cried, 'yes, please, mistress, please hurt me!' 'That's better,' said Marina, and pulled her quickly over to the St. Andrew's Cross. Without further ado, she cuffed her wrists to the top extremities, and her ankles to the lower ones, so that Ingmar was spread-eagled, facing the wall. Next, her mistress flipped open the bows at her shoulders and the filmy nightdress fell down about her hips, leaving her effectively naked and vulnerable. I gasped when I saw the instrument that Marina took down from the wall -- it was a long, leather bull-whip, which looked the cruellest weapon I had ever seen. Marina moved away, way apart, too far away, I thought, to be effective, and swished the whip around theatrically, its thong narrowly missing us as we sat watching. She smiled at us, and then, with an expert flick of her wrist, sent the wicked thong snaking towards Ingmar. It seemed to wrap itself around the girl's lower back, the little knot at its tip disappearing below her armpit. She let out a short wail, and, as the lash came away, there was a long red stripe, scored across the white flesh of her slender back, for all to see. 'If you can't be quiet, I shall gag you!' Marina told her, and immediately lashed her again, cleverly avoiding the first stripe, and making another livid red welt, a little higher up Ingmar's tender back. This time, although she flinched, she only gasped, although the pain must have been terrible. Three more lashes she had to endure, and then her mistress unfastened her cuffs and took her down from the cross, whereupon she collapsed into Marina's arms, crying, 'Oh mistress, I love you so much. Thank you, thank you!' I looked at Marina's face, as she helped Ingmar back into her nightdress, and cradled her in her arms. There were tears on her cheeks. Quietly, she said, 'Ladies: if you wish to avail yourselves of my facilities for your own slaves, feel free, or you may borrow instruments, of course. For now, my slave and I are going to retire.' I looked at Susana, and she read my mind. 'What would you like me to take?' she asked, 'a crop, or a cane?' 'It's up to you, mistress,' I said, 'I am yours.' She went over to the wall where all the implements hung, and returned with a thin cane and a leather flogger. Then she stood, and, picking up my lead, took her leave of Eva and her slave, and led me out and up to our rooms. Once there, she led me straight to the bathroom, released me from my leash and told me to kneel, my hands on my head. My mistress then reached for the shower-head and turned on the water. Immediately I was drenched with a sudden jet of cold water, moulding the thin nightdress to my body. I was frozen, but shivered more in fear of delightful anticipation than from the cold, for I knew what was coming. My mistress took the thin, cruel cane, and lashed me ferociously across my shoulder-blades, the cold wet stickiness of the flimsy nightdress somehow amplifying the stinging pain of the stroke. Immediately, I felt the familiar tingling response in my nipples, as they hardened, and pleasure mingled with pain. Another, and another, stroke fell, lower down my back in a ladder pattern, and I moaned as the vicious switch bit into my flesh, writhing as if to get away, but still welcoming the pain and ecstasy that always came together as my mistress whipped me. I swivelled to look at her lovely face, and saw there only love and passion, as I could tell she shared the indescribable joy that was no flooding my body. The fluid oozed down my thighs as I lost control of my juices. She flung off my nightdress, and sat on the edge of the bath beside me, kissed me deeply, called me loving names, and then, producing the flogger, lashed me hard three times just above my breasts, making a pattern of red blemishes that she told me looked lovely. As she did this, I came, thunderously, a veritable earthquake of an orgasm, that was the result of all that had happened to me that evening -- the meal with the dildo penetrating me for almost an hour, the gorgeous sight of Vanessa's cunt, the erotic whipping of Ingmar, and, above all, my mistress's punishment - just left me like a wet dishrag, collapsed and helpless on the bathroom floor. My mistress had to carry me to bed -- I let her! Next morning, I awoke to find myself alone in my mistress's bed. It took me a few moments to remember where I was, and I smiled when I felt the tender stripes on my back, now caressed by a long silk nightgown my mistress must have put on me. I luxuriated in the satin sheets, and spent a few more moments letting my mind wander over the events of the night before, and was still enjoying the reverie when my mistress appeared from the bathroom, wrapped in a robe. 'Come on, lazybones,' she said, 'time to get up!' I did as my mistress told me, and showered, carefully fingering my tender back, and wincing when the water ran into my wounds. I slipped on a negligee, and followed Susana, now wearing a silk kimono, down to the dining room. Eva and Vanessa were sat at another table, looking more asleep than awake. As we breakfasted, Marina walked briskly in, already dressed in a business suit. 'I hope you all slept well,' she said, then, without waiting for a reply, 'I've made plans for today -- I hope you won't object! I'm planning to buy a new store in Mérida, and I'd like to take Susana and Eva there to see it. Unfortunately I can only take two people with m in the helicopter, so we shall have to leave the girls behind.' She turned to Ingmar: 'I imagine you'll be able to entertain yourselves around the pool for the day!' Ingmar grinned cheekily, and glanced from me to Vanessa, then back at her mistress, 'Oh, I think we'll manage,' she said. We had an idyllic day, lazing naked around the magnificent pool. I let Vanessa rub oil into my welts, and then asked Ingmar if she would like similar treatment. For reply, she rolled over onto her belly beside me, and I enjoyed the feel of her soft white skin under my hands. She was soon writhing gently as I kneaded the oil into her wounds, and I couldn't resist letting a hand wander down into the crack of her buttocks. She let out a pretty 'oh' as I touched the ring of her anus, and, thus encouraged, I slipped a finger gently inside her velvet tube. She moaned softly, then squirmed in pleasure as I joined it with another finger and plunged it deep within her, way past her sphincter. Her buttock started to rise and fall in ecstasy as I finger-fucked her tight arsehole, and she reached around and grabbed my naked breast hard, shouting, 'Yes, yes, yes! I'm cumming, oh, oh, yes!' Her body convulsed, and she was spent. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Vanessa was masturbating furiously, and she groaned loudly as Ingmar came. I let Ingmar lick me gently to a lovely climax, while I watched Vanessa squirt, for the second time in less than a day. It was a sight that almost made me envious, to see her abandon herself to her climax, and spray her juices out with such impressive force. We all swam together, then, under the warm sun, in happy companionship. After lunch, one of the maids told us that Marina had phoned, and asked that we 'prepare ourselves' for their arrival, at seven o'clock. The maid said she would lay out the things we were to wear. When I got to my room, soon after six o'clock, when the heat had gone from the day, I expected to see the same sort of outfit as we had worn the night before awaiting me. I was surprised when I found, laid across my bed, a black fishnet sheath-dress. After showering and making sure that my body was completely devoid of hair, I pampered myself for a while with some of the creams I had found in the bathroom, and then wriggled into the dress. It was a very tight fit, obviously chosen with my measurements in mind, and had long sleeves and a high neckline. It fitted me like a glove, and where its hemline came to just above my knees, there was a broad leather strap with a buckle. I found that the buckle had only one position, and, when I fastened it, I was hobbled so that I could take only tiny steps. When I looked in the mirror, every detail of my body could be seen through the wide mesh of the dress. I decided on a couple of embellishments, and had just cinched a heavy silver chain around my waist when one of the maids came in to put up my hair. I sat at the mirror and let her work at my styling, but amused myself meanwhile by taking a pair of silver nipple clamps from my jewellery box, and clipping them in place, gasping as I tightened them down on to my long nipples, which poked through the mesh of my dress. I looked up at the maid, who was a pretty little Mayan girl, and she had eyes like saucers as she watched, riveted to what I was doing, especially when I attached a weight to the chain which hung between the clamps. She had almost finished my hair. I smiled at her, and she lowered her eyelids charmingly, and then, tentatively, reached a little, delicate hand around to touch my nipple. I pulled her head around and kissed her, driving my studded tongue into her mouth, and hearing her sweet little moan. She obviously knew no English, but I knew she would be my friend from that moment, at the very least, and she giggled as she finished off my hair, and let me kiss her again and stroke her slim thighs under her little maid's skirt. Then she skipped off, leaving me to slip on my shoes and put the finishing touches to my make-up. When we met downstairs to await our mistresses, whose helicopter had already arrived -- they were changing, having greeted us briefly as they entered - I saw that we had been prepared with some imagination. In contrast to the erotic but revealing restraint of my fishnet sheath, Ingmar was dressed in a long, flowing, dreamy, backless white silk gown, especially chosen, I thought, to show the livid red pattern of welts up her pretty back. Her unfettered breasts jiggled fetchingly as she walked. Vanessa wore a glittering, translucent peach-coloured harem suit, which looked ordinary enough until she moved, when it was immediately clear that the trousers were completely crotchless, and her pussy was framed by a lace-trimmed opening in the silky material. I caught the glint of her bejewelled cunt as she stepped towards me. Marina was the first mistress to appear, dressed in a shimmering gold gown with a plunging neckline and long, tight skirt. She called us together and said, smilingly, 'I am throwing a party tonight. The invitees will be arriving shortly, and they are all eager to see you girls, who are the talk of local society. You are free to dance with whoever you wish, Ingmar, and I know my colleagues feel the same way about You two others as well.' 'I'll never be able to dance in this dress!' I protested. 'But you look so wonderfully erotic, my dear,' said Marina, as if that answered my problem. When my mistress appeared, looking magnificent in a purple satin cocktail dress which showed off her long slim legs, encased in black seamed nylons, I mentioned my concern to her. For reply she tugged the chain connecting my nipple-clamps, and towed me through to the dining room, trotting behind her with tiny mincing steps. 'There you are,' she said, 'you walked just fine. And I think you may need to be whipped later, darling.' Her words combined with the pain from my tortured nipples and the restraint of the buckled strap around my legs to make my juices start to well up yet again, and it was all I could do to concentrate on the wonderful food that had been laid out as a buffet when guests started to roll up and were invited to eat. We slaves were the focus of attraction when the music got into full swing, and dancing started. There were some forty people in all, nearly all women, but a scattering of men had been invited too, and I was constantly being invited to dance. Fortunately there was very little room on the floor, so my severely restricted movement was no real problem. As I danced one slow number with a big hunk of a guy, whose hands were all over me, I was suddenly aware that a pair of big brown eyes was following me all over the floor. They belonged to the pretty maid who had done my hair, now dressed charmingly, for the party, in a little pleated green miniskirt, a peasant blouse and heels. I smiled back, indicating with my eyes that I didn't welcome the octopus-like attentions of my partner. When the music stopped, I went to her, and led her onto the floor for the next dance, a slow rock number. She regarded me with adoring eyes, and fell into my arms readily, snuggling against me, her hair silken under my touch. I stroked it, and I swear she purred. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of my mistress watching us, a half-mile on her lips. I pulled slightly way, feeling embarrassed by such intimacy, and the maid's eyes looked up at me, a hurt expression tainting her pretty face. I felt instantly sorry for her, and kissed her forehead. When the music stopped again, it was time for a break, and I minced my way to the food table, where several pairs of eyes, both male and female, locked onto my body, taking in my clamped nipples, my obvious nakedness under the erotic wide mesh of my dress, and my hobbled legs, perched, as ever, on stilettos. I returned their gazes proudly, knowing the effect of my sexuality, and revelling in the pleasure it gave. A smartly-dressed man sitting in a corner masturbated surreptitiously under the cover of a table-cloth, as he watched me. As I looked around, I smiled when I saw that Ingmar and Vanessa were also the subjects of much attention. I felt a tap on my shoulder -- it was my mistress. 'You look ravishing, my dear, and I see you get along fine with Paloma.' I looked blankly at her for a moment, and then caught on, realising that Paloma must have been the maid's name. I cast my eyes downwards in some shame. My mistress tugged at my chain, and I was forced to look up into her eyes. She was smiling. 'You silly girl,' she said, 'you don't have to be ashamed of liking Paloma. She is coming back to Madrid with us. Adela needs some help, and I like her too. It's all arranged.' 'Oh, Mistress Susana,' I said, 'you are wonderful!' She drew me into a warm embrace, saying, 'As soon as it's decent to leave, we should go up to the room, darling. I want you to myself tonight.' She put her hands on my shoulders, then, and held me at arms' length. 'But perhaps you'd prefer to be with Paloma?' she said, teasing me. 'Oh, mistress,' I said, 'take me, and do what you want with me, please!' 'I could wish for no better slave, Sylvia,' she said. I knew my beautiful mistress would whip me that night, and that she would then take me into her bed. I felt the familiar wetness start to lubricate my pussy, and my throbbing nipples seemed to grow still harder. I had never been happier. Sylvia's Switch Ch. 04 We arrived back in Madrid, complete with a nervous but excited Paloma, and were met by my mistress's chauffeuse, Lola, with the Mercedes. Lola's face was transformed from its habitual taciturn expression when she saw her mistress, and her flashing smile made me realise she was much prettier than I had given her credit for. Adela was waiting by the door when we arrived, and kissed Susana and myself enthusiastically, but when my mistress presented Paloma, who had been lurking behind, to her, she greeted her coldly, and turned away almost disdainfully after shaking her hand briefly. My mistress pretended not to notice, simply asking Adela briskly to find Paloma two sets of uniform. Then she turned to me and said, 'Come on, darling, I'm sure you need to freshen up.' As I left her at the door of my room, she said quietly, 'Poor Adela is a jealous girl, and it will take her some time to get used to sharing with Paloma. Can you take Paloma under your wing for a couple of days, while I get Adela used to the idea?' 'Of course, mistress!' I said, not at all upset by the thought of spending time with the pretty Mexican girl. I took my time showering and making up, then, glancing at my watch, realised I had to get a move on and dress for dinner, something Susana always insisted on, and which I now regarded as a pleasant ritual. I chose, for our first night at home for some time, a dress I knew my mistress liked to see me in, a long cream silk halter-neck gown, with a loose backless top, so that my breasts jiggled suggestively as I walked, though walking was restricted by the tightness of the skirt, into which I had to wriggle. I stepped into Lucite stilettos, and put in a pair of long silver pendant ear-rings before brushing my long auburn hair until it shone. At dinner, Adela seemed to have forgotten her sulkiness, and Mistress Susana went out of her way to thank her after each serving, then beckoned to her and whispered to her as we sat over coffee. Adela said, 'Sí, señora,' at least four times, first enthusiastically, then, I thought, uncertainly then rather doubtfully, then she was gone, looking back once over her shoulder, her heels clicking on the parquet floor, as her long, black-stockinged legs under the tiny miniskirt carried her back to the kitchen. When the maid had left Susana said to me, 'I told her to come to my room after coffee. Then I told her she would be punished for her sullen attitude. I'd like you to bring Paloma to see me punish her.' 'Yes mistress,' I said 'Then you can take Paloma to bed with you, if you like. You'd like that, my dear, wouldn't you?' 'Yes mistress.' I had a distinct feeling she was teasing me, as she wore a half-smile, as if she knew that what I really wanted was to go to bed with her. And I did – a I looked at my lovely mistress's elegant, slim body, tightly cinched that night in a black velvet cocktail dress, her slender legs encased in shiny seamed black nylons, I wanted her more than life itself, wanted her to take me in her arms, fondle me, do what she would with me, take me in any way she wanted. She gave a deliberate little tug at the ring in my collar – her collar – that I always wore, as if to reassure me that I was hers, and I called for Paloma. The Mexican girl appeared almost immediately, and curtsied nervously. I thought she looked sweet in her new black mini-dress and frilly white apron, her shapely legs looking good in black fishnet stockings, but my mistress regarded her critically, and rapped sharply, '¡Levantete la faldita!' – raise your skirt! Paloma hesitantly obeyed, revealing a small expanse of pale leg above the lace tops of her stockings, and brief black panties. Susana, had picked up a fly-swat that was lying on the table beside her, and with it, she indicated the waistband of Paloma's panties, looking wordlessly at the girl's pretty face. Paloma caught on and hooking her thumbs under the waistband, wriggled out of the tight panties. She had a black bush, which she had made some effort to trim, probably for wearing a swimsuit, but which was still luxuriant. 'You can take that off for her – it's revolting!' Susana told me, 'And panties are not worn here. She will have to learn.' With a casual wave of the fly-whisk, she dismissed us, and I took Paloma by the hand and led her to my room. My Spanish was, by now, good enough to make myself understood, and I told her to go into my bathroom and take off her clothes. While she was doing so, I slipped out of my dress, and into a short silk slip. Back in the bathroom, Paloma was sitting on a plastic stool, looking nervous, when I entered. I took a plastic razor from a six-pack in my cabinet, and a big canister of foam. I told her to sit still, her legs open, on the edge of the stool, and she complied meekly, looking at me trustingly with her huge brown eyes as I lathered her bush thoroughly and started to shave. I asked her if she had ever been shaved before, and she shook her head no. When I had her mound completely smooth, it looked lovely, and I got her to shuffle forward so that I could lift one foot up onto the side of the bath, thus exposing her crack, which was still very hairy. Carefully, I removed every vestige of hair from around her labia. It wasn't difficult, because she had a very neat pussy, her labia almost hidden, so that I had to probe within to gain access to the glistening pink treasure of her cunt, opening her up with two fingers, which drew a short gasp from her lips. She liked that, it was clear, but I had still to clean the little hairs from around the tiny puckered hole of her anus, and make sure she was completely devoid of all the hair my mistress objected to. I was pleased with the finished result, and soothed the whole area around her sweet pussy with oil, massaging it into her pores, causing her almost to purr as I did so. Whilst I did this I noticed her body as never before. She had small tits, but prominent, brown aureola, with long nipples, which had hardened perceptibly when I was working around her pussy. Her waist was trim and slender, and her hips were, if anything, a trifle too narrow, her legs also slender. Although on the small side, she was, I thought, decidedly cute. I had finished my work with the new maid, but she sat expectantly on the stool, watching me put away the shaving gear, as if awaiting some new experience. My heart went out to her, looking so innocent and fresh, and I held my hand out to her and helped her up from the stool. Back in my bedroom, I rummaged in an untidy drawer, looking for a slip identical to the one I was wearing. As I bent over the drawer, Paloma was perched on the edge of my bed, watching me intently, and she said something I failed to understand. Just then I found what I was looking for, and when I turned around, the maid explained that she was fascinated by my clit-ring. She had seen it before, of course, when I had been ritually dressed in Mexico, but seeing me bent over the drawer in my short slip had reminded her of it. I told her that she could have one fitted, and that the mistress would be very pleased if she did, and she seemed to like the idea, but wanted to know if it hurt. I reassured her on the point, and then tried to explain to her something of the importance of pain and its role in fulfilment. I couldn't tell if I was successful or not, but some of my efforts at complicated Spanish made her laugh, and we ended up in fits of the giggles. I pulled her to me and kissed her then, and put a stop to her giggling, letting her have a taste of a new tongue-stud I had bought at the airport on our return journey. Unlike the usual dumbbell affair, this was a neat little decorative jewel, which sat tight to my tongue, and made me aware of its presence constantly. She gasped as she felt it rasp against her own tongue, and slid her body sensuously up to me, silk against silk, as I reached an arm around her neck and pulled her gently into a soft and tender embrace. I wondered at that moment what I had ever seen in men, and had to pull away momentarily to look into Paloma's dark, beautiful eyes, with their long, curving lashes, before plunging deeply into another hungry kiss. When I fingered a nipple through the thin silk, she started, and then moaned, as I felt the knob harden instantly, and grow to twice its length, its aureole seeming to swell on the base of her firm little breast. I had never felt such thrilling breasts, and the very touch of them set my own juices to well up within me, anticipating the joy of our lovemaking. I traced the swell of her buttock around the hem of her slip, slowly moving over her flat belly, to the newly shaved smoothness of her mound, and down to tease open her labia's secret. She gasped as I wriggled a long-nailed finger tenderly in between her outer lips, seeking the entrance to her inner glories, but looking at me with slightly hooded eyelids, she started to part her slender legs to accommodate me. I made her wait, moving her aside, and sat apart from her on the bed, parting my own legs, without taking off my slip. When I saw her starting to pull hers off, I stopped her - there was something infinitely more exciting about making love partly clothed. I put both hands between my legs, and slowly parted my sex-lips, knowing that my decorated clit would swell and burgeon forth, and the glistening pink treasure of my moist cunt would be a pretty sight. Then I lewdly opened up my fuckhole, prising apart my inner lips to display the very depths of my pulsing vagina in ll its erotic glory. I asked Paloma if she liked what she saw, and followed up my question by flicking my tongue out between parted lips. I neither expected nor received an answer, and simply gestured for the maid to flip around into a '69' position. She accomplished this with agility, and I was presented with her neat slit, which I prised open, and buried my tongue instantly in her pink pussy. She moaned as if wounded when she felt my stud flicking at her clitoris, and it was clear I was driving her rapidly towards an orgasm, as her breaths came in short spasms, and she squirmed and writhed above me, her own tongue darting in and out of my wet cunt. I what I guessed would be a new experience for her, I rammed a forefinger straight into the depths of her arsehole, and she screamed in a glorious mixture of pain and pleasure, as she flooded my face with her juice, and bucked her hips, while I held her down hard. She got the message when she came down to earth, and returned the complement, inserting first one, then two, then three fingers, deep into my own anus, and surprisingly quickly I finally knew the release of a delicious climax. We slept that night in each others' arms, cosy and close. When we awoke, it was daylight already, and Paloma panicked as she knew she had to be preparing breakfast, but I called down to the kitchen, and Lola was filling in efficiently, and said she didn't need to hurry. When she emerged from the shower, she shyly asked me if she might speak, as if she needed permission. I smiled encouragement, and she asked me, in an awkward, roundabout way, if it was 'normal' that she had felt intense pleasure when I had invaded her anal passage the night before. I took her by the hand and kissed her, and made her sit beside me, and then found the first butt-plug I had ever been given by my mistress, nestling in the rear of my drawer. I got Paloma to relax, lubricated the plug, then worked it as gently as I could up inside her, until only the silver flange was left, flush with her arse. '¡Madre mía como duele – es muy incomodo!' she exclaimed – 'how it hurts, it's very uncomfortable!' I told her she would soon be used to it, and that we should then change it for larger models, and smiled to myself when I envisioned the monster bulb-dildo that excited me beyond belief when I thrust it up past my own sphincter. The image was all connected to my mistress, and her 'training' of me, and I absently dismissed Paloma, going into a reverie about my own feelings. The night's coupling with the young maid had only served to set my appetite on edge, and I now needed my mistress's attention more than ever. I thought of going to her room, but knew she had been with Adela. I wasn't jealous, certainly not of Adela, anyway, but it had been several nights and a whole ocean since I had spent time with my mistress, and I needed her to tell me things that only she could. Above all, I needed her to take possession of my body, even humiliate me, so that I could truly be hers. I fingered her collar around my neck, sighed and went about doing a careful job of my make-up. I slipped into a short, soft, silky dress that I knew she liked to see me in. It was gunmetal grey, and cut simply, so that it fell from my breasts to mid-thigh, flowing liquidly around me as I walked. Apart from the dress I wore only a pair of silver sandals, but, as an afterthought, I remembered to clip fine gold chains around my waist and ankle, and to tag a little weighted gold charm onto my clit-ring. My hair I left loose and free. My heart leapt when my mistress congratulated me on my appearance, and I was doubly pleased when she announced that she was taking me out that morning, though she wouldn't say where – Susana loved to preserve an air of mystery. Lola dropped us outside a smart coffee bar in an exclusive part of the city, and my mistress, dressed in a short, skin-tight black cocktail dress and patent stilettos, waited for me to open her door and hand her out of the car, smiling nonetheless. I felt wonderfully naked and vulnerable under my short, loose, silky dress, as I entered the place, and reflected that there was no more exciting feeling than to be naked and shaven under a short skirt in a public place. Women sometimes say they wear miniskirts and other revealing clothes 'because it gives them a sense of freedom' – who are they trying to kid? We were greeted at the door by a supremely elegant blonde in her mid thirties, her long hair falling in soft cascades around her beautiful face, her full lips smiling and showing the glint of a tiny diamond set into one of her front teeth, a detail which I found fascinating. She wore a bottle green dress which might have been Versace, open down to her tiny waist. Her nipples thrust at the material in a way which made them impossible to ignore. When she offered her long-fingered hand, she had impossibly long green-painted nails, and a multiplicity of rings, none of which were cheap. My mistress introduced her as Davinia, and they spoke English for my benefit, even though I was now fairly fluent in Spanish. When we were seated, Davinia went to get us coffee and cakes. My mistress said, 'Tell me honestly, Sylvia, what do you think of Davinia?' Hesitantly, not knowing why she had asked me, I said, 'I think she is absolutely gorgeous.' 'Good,' said Susana, 'because I have told her that I would bring you for her.' 'But......but....mistress – I don't understand. I am yours! I...I...' 'Your loyalty is touching, my dear, but it is decided,' she said, and patted my knee, 'enjoy your coffee!' My coffee tasted bitter, and I was in a state of turmoil, as I didn't know what was going on there. My cup shook as I put it down, then I saw that Davinia was whispering in Susana's ear. 'Come,' said my mistress, standing, and smoothing her dress, 'Davinia is leaving her two assistants in charge of the bar, and we are going upstairs with her.' My mind in a whirl, I followed Susana and Davinia up a narrow staircase, through a door, and into a surprisingly elegant apartment, furnished in Regency style, with high ceilings, Persian carpets and striped drapes. She led us straight through to a large bedroom, which had an enormous four-poster bed and two big silk-upholstered couches. The curtains were closed, and the light was subdued in the room. Davinia went to a console and put on some music. I recognised the voice of Isobel Boulay. My mistress, meantime, lounged on one of the couches, and said quietly to me, 'Why don't you dance with Davinia?' Although it seemed a strange time of day to be dancing, Davinia was swaying to the music, and did look extremely sexy – irresistible, even. I moved out in front of her and swayed in time with her and her eyelids hooded sensuously as she watched. Suddenly I was aware that my mistress was behind me, and had lifted the hem of my dress, slowly, slowly, while watching Davinia's reaction over my shoulder, showing her friend my upper thighs, then my naked pussy, the little weighted fob dangling from my clit, which was now tingling in anticipation. Davinia pulled aside the two halves of the top of her dress, and moved closer to me. She had perfect breasts, the nipples swollen, and hard when I reached out and touched them tentatively. I looked around at Susana, and she nodded what I took to be her permission. I kneaded Davinia's lovely breasts and she moaned, and moved in closer, until our breasts touched, She kissed me, and I speared my tongue into her mouth, letting her have a feel of my new stud, grazing it against her tongue and hearing her tiny gasp of pleasure. She now enfolded me into an embrace, and our bodies moulded, but that was when I got a tremendous surprise. For boring into my belly was an enormous, genuine erection! I just couldn't believe it, and pushed her away, my hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes; where there were emotions I couldn't begin to read. My mistress's hand was on my own shoulder. 'Davinia is as much a woman as you or I,' she said, and, moving around between us, she whisked the blonde's skirt up to reveal an erect cock, which she stroked lovingly, as she looked from Davinia to me. 'Let her fuck you, my Sylvia,' she said, and guided me back gently to the bed, where I sat obligingly back and allowed my mistress to spread my legs apart, now resigned to being penetrated by this strange member. It wasn't at all like my now distant memory of being fucked by a man. The heady scent of woman came with Davinia as she rose above me, and her lovely mane of blonde hair fell across me as her breasts, now more pendulous as she was above me, were an invitation to be toyed with. But she penetrated me as surely and hard as any dildo, surging into my wet, open cunt, which the erotic circumstances had prepared in a way I could never have predicted. She drove into me and pumped hard for what seemed an age. It was, I thought afterwards, strange to feel the sensation of a real live, hot prick inside me again, and not altogether unwelcome, especially as I didn't have to endure a smelly, sweating, hairy man to go with it! I came, a sweet, swelling orgasm, while my mistress, beside me on the bed, stroked me and kissed me, and kissed her strange, shemale friend alternately. Eventually Davinia's whole, feminine body stiffened, but I had no sense that she had cum, and when she left me, her erection now diminished, and went to the bathroom, Susana explained to me that she 'couldn't cum in any normal way, poor thing.' But when she returned to the bedroom, she was smiling, wrapped in an ornate silk kimono, which revealed no sign of her being other than a normal woman – and an extraordinarily beautiful one, at that. 'Thank you, Sylvia,' she said, 'you have free coffee and cakes for life!' It wasn't clear if she was joking or not. Much later, after a morning's shopping with my mistress, during which she made no further mention of our meeting with her hermaphrodite friend, we returned home, where Adela and Paloma served us with a nice lunch. They seemed to be getting along well enough, and when I told Paloma to show Susana her butt-plug, she obligingly raised her little black skirt so that my mistress could see the silver-plated flange protruding from her anus. My mistress nodded her approval, then, when Paloma had gone about her business, said to me, 'You did well, my dear – it's good to see her nicely shaved as well. She must have a bigger plug fitted tomorrow, and we should think about having her pierced, don't you think?' Sylvia's Switch Ch. 04 'Yes mistress,' I agreed. 'Did you enjoy sleeping with her?' she asked me. I hesitated, sensing that my mistress had some sort of agenda here. 'I...I always prefer to be with you, my mistress,' I said. 'You wouldn't be being a trifle disingenuous, would you, my dear?' inquired Susana, a half-smile on her lips, 'come up to my room after coffee, please – I think I shall have to remind you of a few things.' 'Yes mistress!' I said, knowing for sure what she had in store for me. Despite the pleasurable anticipation I felt in my whole body for my mistress's coming humiliation and possession of me, my coffee cup shook as I finished the post-lunch drink, and I checked my appearance in the mirror as I left the lounge to go up to Susana's room. Still in the silky mini-dress, which fell from my unfettered breasts in soft folds to mid-thigh, my nipples now stood out against the material, hardened by my excitement. I decided I would do, and went up to my mistress's room, knocked on the door and went in. My mistress had taken off her street clothes, and wore only a short transparent white nightdress, trimmed with fur around the hem and collar, and white fluffy high-heeled mules. Her small breasts were clearly visible through the flimsy garment, and her lustrous black hair, which she had had pinned up during the morning, was now loose, and flowed down to the hem of her nightdress. She stood by the bed as I entered, one hand on the post of the four-poster. In her other hand, she held a bull-whip, which she idly flicked against her own leg. Smilingly, she said, 'Take off your dress, darling!' I reached behind me and unfastened the button at the back of the neck, then pulled down the short zipper, crossed my arms, picked up the hem of my dress, and pulled it up and over my head in a rustle of silky material. I was naked but for my stilettos, waist-chain and collar. 'You haven't put your hair up!' said Susana, rather harshly, as if I should have known she expected it of me. 'I'm sorry, mistress,' I said, 'I didn't think.' 'You didn't think. I see. Kneel on the floor!' I did as she told me, and she came up behind me, and lifted my mane of auburn hair over my shoulder, so that it fell down over a breast, leaving my back naked and vulnerable to her whip. She stood back, and I heard a loud swish as she tested the swing of the whip through the air. I readied myself, anticipating the sweet, awful pain. She made me wait. 'You want me to hurt you, don't you, Sylvia?' she asked me. 'Oh yes, mistress!' I said, now breathing more quickly. 'You know I love you, don't you, Sylvia?' 'Yes mistress,' I said, turning to look into her deep, dark eyes, as I spoke. 'I know you want me to hurt you, Sylvia, but I need to hear you ask me to do it, my dear.' She stroked me with whip, running it across my shoulders as she spoke. I knew what she wanted me to say. 'Oh mistress, please let me feel your whip; hurt me, hurt me a lot – I need you to hurt me, please!' With that, she drew away behind me and, without further ado, there was a tremendous hiss as the long leather lash flew through the air, and expertly wrapped itself around my lower back, bringing with it a fierce and instant stinging pain, which caused me to gasp and flinch. As I looked down my flank, I saw the tiny knot at the end of the lash, as it came to rest for a brief moment against my flesh. The next stroke fell across my buttocks, with a terrible crack, and the ferocity of its sudden torment was such that I felt sure she had drawn blood. I cried out, and she threatened to gag me if I couldn't keep quiet. I endured the next three awful lashes, also on my fleshy buttocks, in silence, but had to writhe and squirm as their sheer torture took effect. She transferred her attentions to my back, whipping me three times across my sensitive upper back, and twice the end of the lash curled around to catch the sides of my breasts, and I couldn't suppress a scream. But the second time, the scream was one which combined my agony with the inevitable ecstasy that accompanies a whipping from my mistress, and when I looked around at her, she saw the longing in my eyes, and knew I was very close to my orgasm. 'Sylvia,' she said, thickly, throwing aside the whip, 'I can wait no longer, and neither can you.' She pulled me bodily to my feet, and, ignoring my stinging, wounded arse and back, I fell onto my mistress's bed with her. She pulled me on top of her, in a '69' position, knowing that my back would never endure being underneath, and opened herself to me, as I did, in turn, to my mistress. Alternately, I tongued her soaking cunt and her dark, cavernous arsehole, which I also penetrated with first one, then two, then three fingers, then finally, drawing deep moans from my beloved, I fisted her completely, shoving my whole hand deep, deep, into her lovely, hot anus, and pumping until she screamed and came. As she did so, my own orgasm was upon me, and I was able to time it to perfection, and cum creamily into my mistress's face as she tongued me. 'Sylvia,' she said, 'that was the fuck of a lifetime!' I had to agree. I knew I would be my mistress's willing slave for as long as she wanted me – and do anything she required of me. Love could not be stronger. Sylvia's Switch Ch. 05 Everyone in this story is over eighteen, and so should you be! My mistress Susana called me into her study one day, about two weeks after our return from Mexico, and I had no idea what she wanted, so I was surprised when she asked me if I could take charge of one of her most prestigious branches for a couple of weeks, while the manageress was on holiday. When I protested that I didn't have enough Spanish, she waved away my fears, saying that I was perfectly fluent enough, and, anyway, more than half the clients were foreigners anyway, and my English would be more than useful. I was, however, still nervous, when I dressed on the morning I was due to start, slipping on the pleated blue miniskirt and white silk blouse that was to be my uniform for the duration of the job. Apart from a pair of patent stilettos, I wore nothing else, unless you counted my mistress's silver-studded collar, and the fine gold waist chain, items I always wore. I had Paloma put my auburn hair up in a businesslike French knot, and, checking my image in the entrance-hall mirror, I decided I could summon Lola to take me to work. For a day or two I found that my training in the UK stood me in good stead, and my Spanish never let me down – the three young girls I had as assistants helped me a great deal anyway. Then, after about three days, a couple walked into the store, and I did a double-take. The tall blonde girl in the pink silk trouser-suit was surely a British film-starlet, whose name was on everyone's lips, and she was accompanied by a flash-looking guy in his thirties, wearing an Armani suit. She walked straight up to me. 'Hi, I'm Kathy,' she said. It wasn't the name she was known to the public by. 'And this is Mark. I want two or three outfits, complete with accessories, and I've been told this is the place!' Her accent was middle-class English, and she seemed pleasant enough, but I wasn't sure about Mark, who lounged around, regarding me with a sneer on his handsome face. 'OK, Kathy,' I said, and introduced myself, then said, 'come with me, and we'll see what we can do.' 'Oh, thank God you're English,' she said, 'can Mark come to?' 'Sure,' I replied, though I had rather he wasn't there. I led them into the huge fitting room at the back, where there were rows an rows of racks and rails, on which hung thousands of gowns of all kinds. Down one side were changing rooms, and I installed Kathy in one, and brought her several dresses of the various types she asked for, while Mark sat on an armchair at the opposite side. After several tries, Kathy pronounced herself pleased with two evening gowns and two day-dresses I had brought her, and I thought she looked lovely in them too. 'Can you fix me up with shoes to match?' she asked. 'Yes, but I'll have to go into the stock-room, if you'd care to wait. You can be trying on a couple more dresses if you like.' She grinned, and I left to cross the room to the stock-room. Once there, I was so busy reaching up to the shelves, engrossed in reading off the sizes on the boxes, that I didn't realise Mark had come in behind me, and was pressed up against me. He roughly pulled up my skirt, and grunted when he realised I wore no panties. His hands pulled me by my waist, before I had time to yell, and I felt his erection hard against my buttocks. I struggled around and pulled myself free, ducking out of his grasp, and fetched him a stinging slap across the face. 'Get off me, you dirty bastard!' I shouted. 'You whore!' he shouted, 'no knickers, asking for it!' 'No, no!' I yelled, 'get away from me. I don't…..I don't…..you don't understand!' 'I sure do!' he shouted back, 'you're a fucking dyke bitch!' – and, with that, he stormed down the narrow store and out, nearly knocking over his girlfriend, who, hearing the commotion, was standing at the doorway, open-mouthed. 'Just fuck right off!' she shouted after him, as he marched out of the fitting room, overturning a rail full of dresses. Then she turned to me, tears in her eyes. 'Oh, Sylvia,' she said, 'the bastard! How could he?' She stroked my arm and I could see she cared. 'He's history,' she said, 'I didn't like him much anyway!' 'It's not your fault,' I said, 'forget it, eh?' She smiled wanly, and we went about the business of fixing her up with some shoes. When we had finished, she paid with her Gold Card, and promised to call me. I thought no more of the incident – after all, it wasn't all that unusual for men to make the mistake of coming on to me, and I could usually put them down gracefully; it just wasn't a good idea to get trapped in the stockroom with a horny stud. A couple of days later, then, I was surprised to be called to the phone, and to find that my caller was none other than Kathy. 'Have dinner with me,' she said. 'I really can't,' I said, thinking immediately of Susana's likely reaction to my having dinner with another woman. But I also realised that I wouldn't mind seeing the pretty blonde again. 'Lunch, then?' she suggested. 'OK,' I agreed, 'when?' 'Tomorrow, two o'clock, at my hotel?' She told me the name of the hotel, perhaps the best in Madrid, and it was just around the corner from the store. I was to ask for her in reception: 'Miss Turner.' It was clear that she liked her anonymity. I was unaccountably nervous all the next morning, and thought lunchtime would never come. But it did, eventually, and I found myself, a bit earlier than I had intended, standing in the palatial lobby of the plush hotel, feeling like Cinderella, asking timidly for Miss Turner, 'Suite 411,' a uniformed flunky answered crisply, directing me to an elevator, which hefted me silently to the appropriate floor. I trod the thick maroon carpet to her door, and rang the bell. Kathy came to the door, wrapped in a black silk kimono, decorated with flowers and a big gold dragon. Her long blonde hair was pinned up, but wispy strands had escaped around her pretty face. 'Hello,' she said, 'come in – you're early! Why don't you join me in the Jacuzzi while we wait for the lunch to be sent up?' She paused as I followed her into the huge and luxurious split-level suite. Turning to me she said, 'You're not shy, are you?' Without waiting for an answer, she stepped up to the rim of the enormous hot-tub, which was bubbling away on the lower level of the suite, and shrugged the kimono off her slender shoulders, revealing a body which had been seen in nude scenes on the big screen, but still impressed me with its grace and elegance, her long legs and narrow waist in perfect symmetry with her lovely swelling buttocks and firm round breasts. I hoped I wasn't staring, but she didn't seem to notice, anyway, and, sitting on the edge of the Jacuzzi, she patted the rim beside her, and said, 'Come on then, join me!' I was, of course, no stranger to nudity, and hardly susceptible to shyness, but, for some reason, trembled as I undid the fastening on my skirt, and slipped out of skirt and blouse under the gaze of this gorgeous creature, whose eye widened when she saw that I was quite naked under my uniform skirt and blouse, apart from the fine gold chain I wore around my waist, and my mistress's collar, of course. I kicked off my shoes and lowered myself onto the rim of the Jacuzzi opposite Kathy, grinning back at her reassuring smile. But her eyes, I realised, were on the fading welts just above my breasts, the only visible signs she could see of the most recent whipping my mistress had given me. I had been careful not to turn my back to her, so that she would see the much more readily visible marks I wore there. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, and then thought better of it. I decided I didn't know her well enough to enlighten her – yet. Kathy pressed a button on a console, and the warm, silky water started to bubble and become more turbulent. I slipped down and let the water wash around me, felt the touch of Kathy's long legs against mine – a natural, unselfconscious, friendly touch, into which I read nothing. She was smiling at me now, and we both enjoyed the simple pleasure of having our bodies pampered, until her alarm sounded, telling her it was time to emerge for our lunch. I had forgotten all about my welts by now, and, when she helped me into a towelling robe she lent me, I inadvertently offered her a grandstand view of my back, with its fading ladder-pattern of whip-marks, which Mistress Susana had inflicted upon me about a week previously, when she had suspended me naked from the chain hanging from her bedroom ceiling, and flogged me mercilessly with her long leather riding whip. I heard the sudden intake of breath escape Kathy's lips as she saw the healing wounds on my back, and she turned me around, and looked me directly in the eye. 'I don't expect you to understand,' I said, by way of explanation, before she could speak. 'But you let him do that to you?' she looked at me, her beautiful blue eyes wide. 'Not him,' I corrected her. 'Oh…..oh,' she said, shaking her head, then she smiled, and at that moment, the doorbell sounded. 'Saved by the bell,' I said. Kathy laughed, a lovely sound, and called to the room-service waiters to wheel in our lunch, which looked delicious. It was a wonderful meal, not least because of the relaxed company of my new film-star friend. Over coffee, though, she started to quiz me about my life – had noticed the strange collar I wore, with its inset ring, to which mistress attached my leash, and was particularly interested, of course in the punishment I had undergone. When I tried to explain to her that I sometime craved punishment so much that I begged my mistress for it, she shook her head. I insisted in taking her hair out of its restraining pins then, so that it would fall free around her shoulders when she did that, and my touch led to a kiss, at first a chaste little peck, then she took my head between her hands and kissed me deeply, her breathing coming rapidly. I pushed my studded tongue gently between her lips, feeling it click against her even white teeth, and she gasped as our tongues intertwined, and I stroked the silken mane of her fine blonde hair. I couldn't deny a surge of desire for Kathy as I held her slender body close, inhaled her perfume, felt her smooth flesh, but I pulled back, and Kathy knew, sensed my reluctance to give myself. 'I understand, Sylvia,' she whispered, 'but I want you, so much. Perhaps…..?' The question hung in the air between us, and I found myself inviting her to come and see us at home, without really knowing what my mistress's reaction would be. It was arranged that she would telephone that evening and we would fix an evening for her to come to dinner. When I left the hotel to return to work, I wondered what on earth I had let myself in for. My nerves were on edge all day that Tuesday, two days after I finished my stint at the store, and I could hardly wait for eight o'clock to come around. Come it did, and a taxi rolled to halt outside our door almost on the hour. Paloma, dressed in her usual maid's uniform, opened the door to our guest, and I was waiting in the entrance hall to greet her. 'You look fantastic!' I said, and meant it. She wore a long scarlet silk gown she had bought a couple of weeks previously at our store. It was backless, and she managed to look both elegant and sensual. Her long blonde hair was set up in an intricate swirl on top of her head, showing the graceful arch of her long neck, where she wore a beautiful diamante choker, with long, matching pendants in her ear-lobes. 'But just look at you,' she said, as she embraced me, then held me at arms' length by the shoulders and looked at me from head to toe, 'I've never seen anything so erotic in my life!' My mistress had given me express instructions as to what I was to wear for this evening – 'We must impress our guest, my dear, mustn't we?' So I was dressed in a translucent black sheath-dress, with long, tight sleeves and a high neck, beneath which I was entirely naked, except for a heavy silver chain around my waist. I wore matching black silk gloves, and black stilettos, and, as I walked, felt the weight of a heavy chain my mistress had told me to clip to attach to my clit-ring. I wore my hair long and straight for the evening. My nipples were hard, and quite visible, against the thin material of the dress. Whilst I was greeting Kathy, Mistress Susana appeared, dressed, as she often was, in a long, graceful black velvet creation with pearl accessories. She was quite charming to our guest, of course, and, after formalities, rang a little bell she kept in the entrance hall. In scurried Adela, dressed in a short, silky, cream-coloured, flared mini-dress, which appeared to be her sole garment, and it was the first time I had seen her in anything but her maid's uniform. Her pointed breasts jiggled suggestively as she approached. 'Adela will attend to any needs you may have, Kathy. Now we can go in to dinner, I think,' said Susana, and produced my leash from somewhere as if by magic, and clipped it to my collar. Kathy looked on in amazement, as my mistress led me in to dinner. It was, of course, for her benefit – my mistress liked to demonstrate her dominance whenever we had guests, and I also took pride in being my mistress's slave on these occasions. Kathy herself was ushered along by the attentive Adela, eager to try out her meagre English on our guest, and proud of being allowed to sit at the table with us for once. Conversation was relaxed, if occasionally suggestive, during dinner, and I felt a little sorry for Adela, who had difficulty in keeping up with the English. When Paloma served coffee in the lounge, my mistress whispered something to her, and the maid looked wide-eyed with shock, as she turned away, and hesitated in the doorway, turning half back towards us. '¡Vete ya!' ordered Susana – 'go now!' She turned and did as she was told. We had scarcely finished our coffee when the young maid reappeared, this time dressed in a long plain white cotton shift, which hung straight from bow-ties at her slim shoulders to the floor. Her long black hair, which she always wore loose, in a cascade down her back, was pinned up on top of her head. She shuffled along slowly, not at all the sprightly skip that was her normal gait. As she came closer, I saw she was dragging a heavy chain along the floor – her ankles were shackled. 'I enjoy ritual,' explained Susana, for Kathy's benefit – I was already aware of that fact – 'and I have decreed that Paloma is to be punished this evening.' 'What has she done wrong?' asked Kathy. Susana smiled. 'It is sufficient that I have decided it necessary, I think. Sylvia will understand, won't you, my dear?' 'Yes, mistress,' I agreed. I knew that Paloma had yet to taste my mistress's whip, in the five or six weeks she had been with us, and that she was overdue for her first session of strict discipline. I also guessed that she was no stranger to occasional punishment, from her previous employment in Mexico. I was sat beside my mistress on one sofa, Kathy and Adela kitty-corner to us on the other, and Paloma stood uncomfortably before us, her eyes cast downwards. My mistress had the end of my leash trailing loosely across her lap, and now gave it a sharp tug. I leant towards her to receive her instructions, then nodded and got up, and went to Paloma. I flipped open the bows at her shoulder and her shift fell to the floor, revealing her slender young form – naked and shaven, she looked much younger than her twenty two years. She was unadorned, save for the shiny iron anklets which were connected by a short length of heavy chain. '¡Date la vuelta!' –' turn around!' rapped Susana, and when she did, I stood aside, so that my mistress could see that Paloma was indeed wearing the butt-plug she had been obliged to insert – its silver flange was clearly visible protruding from her anus. 'Hmm,' was all my mistress said, while I went to the dresser and fetched the silver handcuffs I had been told to get. Paloma whimpered as I snapped them in place and carried on doing so as I led her into position below the chain, which I knew would descend from the ceiling when my mistress touched a button on her console. As I did so I had to walk her past Kathy, and I couldn't help noticing that her lovely blue eyes were bright with excitement at what was taking place before her. She had a hand on Adela's thigh, and was gently stroking it, while the Spanish girl's eyes were hooded, and her breast rose and fell as if she was breathing rapidly. I turned my attention to the job in hand. The chain descended with a slight whirr, and I raised the servant's trembling arms and slipped the chain that joined her cuffs through the snap-link at the end of the chain. My mistress pressed the button again and Paloma's arms were stretched to the limit, so that she was forced to stand on tip-toe, and she gasped with the sudden discomfort. I thought she looked lovely, suspended there, so vulnerable, her mouth slightly open, as she anticipated the pain she was about to experience, revealing the new tongue-stud Adela had taken her to have fitted a few days previously. I fetched the tray containing my mistress's favourite instruments from the dresser. My mistress took the tray from me, and handed me the long leather paddle. 'Warm her arse a little, darling!' she said, 'then I'll take over.' 'But mistress, I….!' I began to protest, not having whipped anyone before. 'Do it!' she said, harshly, and I knew better than to argue. I walked over to Paloma and gave her two or three tentative swishes across her lovely rounded arse-cheeks with the thin leather paddle. 'Come along, Sylvia, much, much harder, or I shall be obliged to give you a demonstration, which, by the way, I know you would enjoy, you little slut!' My mistress was on her feet, behind me, now, and I drew my arm back and lashed the young servant fiercely across the fleshiest part of her buttocks, instantly bringing up a bright red wheal and causing her to scream and lurch against her bonds. Mistress Susana told her to be quiet, and slapped her resoundingly across her cheek as a reminder, then pushed me out of the way. 'Go and sit down, Sylvia. I'll give her a little taste of a real whipping now.' She had in her hand her favourite long bull-whip, which required her to stand back behind the sofa where Kathy and Adela were sitting. I glanced in their direction, and Kathy's hand was now right up under the hem of Adela's short skirt, moving rhythmically, and Adela's eyes were quite closed, her breath coming in short gasps. Kathy too looked terribly aroused as my attention switched back to my mistress. She flicked out the long, snaking lash of the whip with an expert turn of her wrist, and it sped through the air, curling itself unerringly around the tiny waist of the imprisoned servant-girl, who let out an awful moan as the leather thong bit into her tender flesh. Before she had time to recover from the first stroke, the second was on its way, this time the small know at the end of the lash just touching the side of her breast as a length lay across her lovely back, making a thin, deep red stripe she would wear with pride for some time. Four more strokes I counted, each drawing a louder moan from Paloma's lips, each making a nice red welt on her hitherto unblemished flesh. The last one, which my mistress described as a 'special one' she laid across the top of the girl's thighs, bringing a scream of agony from her. Then she calmly lay aside her whip and came up to Paloma. After releasing her from the overhead chain, she took her head in both hands, and kissed her, long and searchingly, then let one hand stray down her body to the girl's belly, gently prising her legs apart like a tender lover. Her hand stayed between Paloma's legs, probing her moist, warm pussy. Sylvia's Switch Ch. 05 'Mmm,' murmured Susana, sucking the young girl's juices from her hand, 'you're quite a little slut, aren't you, darling?' The maid looked at our mistress uncomprehendingly, but there was adoration in her eyes too, and she nestled against Susana as if she was in need of her protection. But my mistress turned away, gently pushing her servant aside, and told me to dress her again, take her back to her room, and rub some balm into her wounds. 'Then come back, darling, will you; I have a little surprise for you.' I looked at her wonderingly, but her expression gave nothing away. When I had finished with Paloma, and left her proudly looking at her prettily marked back in the long mirror in her bedroom, I returned to the lounge, where the other three were all partaking of liqueurs. 'Ah, Sylvia,' said Mistress Susana, 'Kathy here is quite fascinated with our lifestyle, and I've just told her that I'm loaning you to her for two weeks.' To say this came as a bombshell would be an understatement. My first thought was: why me? Why not Adela? Does my mistress love Adela more than she loves me? My mistress could read me like a book. 'You're wondering why I don't loan her Adela, aren't you, darling?' I nodded dumbly. 'Because you are so much more experienced as a slave, and it will give me a chance to train Adela….and Paloma too, for that matter. And not least because Kathy thinks you are quite lovely. So it's decided. You'll go with her to the new house she has now rented, complete with a maid, for two weeks, and you will be her slave, just as you are mine. I have given her some instruction on the way you should be treated. You will obey her at all times. Is that clear?' 'Yes mistress,' I said, looking from the lovely face of which I was so fond to the gorgeous blue eyes and silky blonde hair of the superb Kathy. It was going to be an interesting couple of weeks! Adela helped me pack a large wheeled trunk with clothes and accessories, and then I went down to the entrance-hall, where Kathy was waiting, my leash in her hand. My mistress was nowhere to be seen as she clipped it to my collar and led me wordlessly out to the Mercedes, which Lola had ticking over outside the door. When we arrived at a nice chalet in a good part of Madrid, Kathy led me in, and I was conscious of our changed relationship. A pretty black maid was waiting, dressed in traditional uniform, and introduced to me as Sandra. 'Show Sylvia to her room!' ordered Kathy, and released me from my leash. I was shown to a nice, airy bedroom, well-equipped, with an en-suite bathroom, and my trunk was wheeled in a few minutes later. I was too tired to do anything but go straight to bed, and, noting lovely satin sheets, I did just that, and slept instantly. I awoke to the sound of bird, and it took me a few moments to remember where I was. But just as soon as I remembered, a knock came on the door, and Sandra entered, with a tray, containing coffee and croissants, which she placed on my bedside table, saying, 'Miss Kathy will see you as soon as you are ready. I will run your bath and prepare your clothes.' Before I could reply, and suggest that perhaps I should prefer a shower, and to choose my own clothes, she had slipped into the bathroom, and running water would have drowned my words. I enjoyed the hot coffee instead. In the event, I luxuriated in the modern bath, with its hydro-massage jets spraying me with warm, perfumed water, and felt invigorated when I emerged, drying myself on a big, fluffy towel. But Sandra had laid out on my now neatly-made bed a dress I had never seen before, which must have somehow been purchased for me. It was a flame-red chiffon flared mini-dress, which revealed more than it concealed, with a plunging neckline. She had also laid out a white satin garter belt, white lace-top stockings, and white stilettos. When I dressed in the entire outfit, and looked at myself in the mirror, the dress only just covered the tops of the stockings, and I certainly looked extremely sexy, I thought. Just as I had finished admiring my reflection, Sandra came in again, with a little case. 'Miss Kathy has told me to do your hair and make-up,' she said. 'But I always do my own make-up!' I protested, then realised it was better to sit down and just let her get on with it. Sandra simply blow-dried my long auburn hair and brushed it until it shone, and then turned her attention to my make-up, laying on my mascara much more heavily than I normally did. When I looked again at my reflection, I saw a perfect slut looking back at me. Sandra looked at her watch. 'Come on, we'll be late for Miss Kathy,' she said. When we got downstairs, Kathy was standing in the entrance hall. I had expected to see her in a summer dress, and was slightly shocked to find that she was wearing a beautifully-tailored lightweight pearl-grey business suit, over a white silk blouse and shiny hose and patent heels. At her ears were tiny diamonds, and her lovely blonde hair was tied up into a pony-tail with a black velvet bow. She looked the model of sophistication. 'But, Kathy, look at me!' I said, my arms outspread. She gave a wan smile. 'I'm looking, my dear, and what I see is what I want to see. By the way, I think you'd better address me as Miss Kathy, don't you?' 'Yes, Miss Kathy.' 'That's better. Now I think I'd like to take you out for a while.' She held a hand out for me and I took it, thereby tacitly accepting, I supposed, my new role as her slave, albeit temporary. She had already called a taxi, and we were soon on our way into the smartest area of Madrid. Once there, I walked beside my new mistress, her fashionable sophistication contrasting sharply with my tarty sluttishness, as she made it quite clear that I was her slave, causing me to carry her bags when she bought a new pair of boots, a handbag and a big, heavy box full of make-up equipment. I felt both humiliated and just a little excited at being treated like this, and felt eyes on me, wondered how many people would have given a month's salary to fuck me. When we took a coffee, the waiter eyed me lustfully, and Kathy said, 'He'd just love to fuck you, look at him. But what he doesn't know is that I'm going to – and very soon!' She had her hand on my knee under the table as she spoke. 'Oh, yes, Miss Kathy, yes please!' It still seemed odd to use her title, but I supposed I should get used to it, and, looking at her lovely face, hearing her soft voice, I could hardly wait to be naked with her. The inevitable juices welled up warmly, unbidden, in my pussy. After what seemed like an age, we at last took a taxi back home, and almost as soon as we arrived, I knew that Kathy's mind was running in the same direction as mine. She slipped off the jacket of her suit, and, trailing it behind her, turned into the lounge, inclining her head in a gesture which I took to mean she wanted me to follow her. She threw herself down on the sofa, and hitched her narrow skirt up, over her hips, to her waist, having to wriggle a bit, as it was quite a tight fit. Her stockings were hold-ups, and she wore nothing under her skirt, so she was instantly naked, her white thighs and clean-shaven, flat belly framing her neat pink slit. But she slowly parted her legs, her eyes never leaving mine, as I moved to sit beside her on the big velvet-covered sofa. My own eyes were drawn, fascinated, down to her hands, which were now between her legs, spreading the outer lips of her lovely pussy, to reveal the hidden treasure of her glistening pink cunt. She opened herself wide, so that I could see into the dark hot depths of her fuckhole, which she dilated with her muscles as I watched. It was an open invitation – literally – and I fell upon her, my mouth eagerly seeking the nub of her clit, under its protecting hood, and I sucked and bit her, grazed her with my tongue-stud, then plunged it deep, deep into her vagina. She screamed and pulled my hair down by the handful, forcing me still deeper, until I could scarcely breathe, and she cried out again, as if in awful pain, stiffened like a board, and released me. But meanwhile I had reached around my own buttocks, and had fingers deep within my own dripping pussy, and my orgasm came hot on the heels of that of my new mistress. We soon lay together, panting, sweating, in each others' arms, until Kathy focussed her blue eyes on me and said, 'Susana said I was to be strict with you, and not let you cum just when you want.' 'Mmm,' I replied. 'What does that mean?' she demanded, not really seriously. 'It means, I'd like the idea of your being strict with me,' I said. 'And how did you like being my slut-slave, when we went out this morning?' 'It was exciting – people looked,' I said. She looked at me intensely. 'Susana said something else.' When I looked a question at her, she continued, hesitantly, 'she said you like to have….your…. anus penetrated.' I grinned, 'My mistress knows me better than anyone alive, but you don't have to be so delicate.' 'I've only got you for a week, Sylvia,' she said, 'and I want to make the most of it – I've never had a slave before!' 'Then use me,' I said, losing myself in the depths of those lovely, serious blue eyes, 'use me in whatever way gives you most pleasure. I'll love serving you and being yours!' She held me close and kissed me, kneading my nipples, which always set my pussy tingling instantly, and I moaned softly as she withdrew her tongue from my mouth. 'Come on,' she said, 'let's have some lunch now, then perhaps we can resume later?' 'I like the sound of that, Miss Kathy,' I said – I was feeling quite hungry, in fact. In the event, we had a longish siesta after lunch, lounging around naked by the small pool set in luxuriant gardens beside Kathy's chalet. After perhaps an hour and a half's doze, I became aware that Kathy was watching me as I stirred, and I smiled across at her from my sun-lounger, where I had been idly toying with my pussy, indulging in a gentle fantasy about my mistress, whom I was already starting to miss. 'Come and help me dress, Sylvia, will you?' she asked. 'Of course, Miss Kathy,' I responded, and got up, slipping on a towelling robe. I followed my new mistress obediently to her room, where she hung her own robe behind the bathroom door, and stood before me naked, her slim body now tanned a lovely golden brown from the Spanish sun, her hair, if possible, still lighter than it had been, as the sun had bleached it naturally. 'I want to dress a bit differently right now, Sylvia,' she said, 'and you'll have to help me.' I wondered what she meant, but soon cottoned on when she took a black corset out of a drawer. 'I bought this last week,' she explained, 'and a very tight skirt as well, but I had to pluck up the courage to wear them!' I thought I'd never squeeze her into the cruel whale-boned garment, which seemed two sizes too small, even before I had laced it tight in the back, causing her to cry out as it reduced her already slender waist to nothing. Her nipples were just covered by the top of the corset, but it was arched high at the rear, so that her round buttocks were thrust out provocatively at me as I clipped black seamed stockings to the long garter-straps. I wanted her again all the time I was doing this, her sweet-smelling pussy inches from my nose, and she briefly held my head against her belly as soon as I had finished, then pushed me disdainfully away. I helped her into an impossibly tight black skirt, just below knee-length, zipped down to the hem, which rendered it difficult for her to walk, a difficulty added to by the four inch stilettos she stepped into. A little jacket and long silk gloves completed her outfit, and I forestalled her call to Sandra by putting her hair up for her myself. 'Are we going out, Miss Kathy?' I asked. 'Of course,' she said. 'What must I wear?' I asked. 'I'll send Sandra with something for you,' was her answer, 'go to your room now!' Almost as soon as I got back there, Sandra turned up, with my outfit, and I couldn't help laughing. Twenty minutes later, I was in the entrance hall, with Kathy, waiting for a taxi, clad in a short, pleated plaid miniskirt and white cotton blouse, ankle socks and sandals, my hair tied up in braided pigtails by Sandra, only my sophisticated make-up and my ever-present collar giving the lie to the schoolgirl image Kathy seemed eager for me to portray. In order to sit in the back of the taxi, and so that she would be able to walk at all easily, she had to unfasten a few inches of the zipper on her skirt, but, walking with her through the busy shopping streets, we attracted many stares. She held my hand in her own silk-gloved one, and, although I was almost as tall as she, her heels made a big difference, and her dominance was apparent to anyone who observed us. When we went into a coffee bar, she insisted that I had a Coke, and drank it through a straw, while she sipped a cappuccino, and smiled superciliously at me. 'You are a good little slut, Sylvia,' she said, 'but the collar strikes wrong note!' 'I know, Miss Kathy, but Mistress Susana ordered me never to take it off.' 'But you are mine right now. I think you will have to be punished when we get home, don't you?' I didn't reply. 'I said – DON'T YOU?' she said, harshly. 'Yes, Miss Kathy,' I replied meekly. She looked smug, and finished her coffee in silence. When we got home, I found that I was trembling as I stood in the entrance hall. I didn't know why, as I was no stranger to punishment – in fact I loved the kiss of my mistress's lash on my back, which could drive me to a climax more quickly than any other stimulus I knew. But this was different; Kathy was so very beautiful, and I melted at the very sight of her, but I had yet to get used to the idea of being loaned to her, as her slave. I belonged to Mistress Susana, and hoped to do so forever. Even though she had told me that I should be loaned to her friends, and I had accepted that as a condition of my life with her, I had still to get my head around the idea. But Kathy was speaking to me. 'Go to my room, and wait for me there!' she said sharply. I waited there, and used the time to unbuckle my collar. It felt strange to be without it after so many weeks with the comforting warmth of it, and what it symbolised, around my neck. When Kathy came in, she told me immediately to take off my clothes. I obeyed, even removing the little white ankle-socks, and stood naked in front of her, with only the fine gold chain around my waist that I knew she liked me to wear. 'Good,' she said, 'now show me just what a slut you really are, Sylvia. Ask me to hurt you.' I looked at her, and admired her cold beauty, as she stood there, now divested of her jacket, her corset pinching in her waist and thrusting out her breasts, the tips of which were now just showing above the lacy top of her corset. She had obviously been touching her own nipples in order for that to happen. 'Hurt me, Miss Kathy, please!' I said, quietly. 'How shall I hurt you, darling?' 'However you choose, Miss Kathy. I am yours!' 'I don't have a whip or a crop, I'm afraid, so I can offer you a cane, or a strap – as you wish.' 'Just as you wish, Miss Kathy,' I told her. 'Then bend over and put your hands on the back of the couch, you little slut, and part your legs – there, like that!' She put her foot between mine and forced my feet slightly apart, and then came around in front of me and showed me the long, thin, flexible bamboo cane she was about to use on me. I shuddered involuntarily. 'What's wrong? Don't you want me to cane you now?' she taunted, 'Scared of a little pain now, are you?' 'No, Miss Kathy!' 'Then you'd better ask me for it, hadn't you?' 'Hurt me, please, Miss Kathy – I want you to,' I gasped, turning to look at her hooded, lustful eyes. 'Yes, Sylvia, I'm going to lash you hard – it's what you really want, isn't it?' She was enjoying this like foreplay, licking her luscious lips as she swished the cane, and traced little patterns on my buttocks. 'Then hurt me, Miss Kathy, please, please,' I begged her, and she drew her arm back and lashed me with all her strength across the tender flesh of my upper thighs. I couldn't suppress a short little scream of pain and writhed as she took aim again. Now she struck me a stinging, ferocious slash a shade higher, and the awful pain was accompanied by the inevitable first tingle of ecstasy that wells up in the innermost depths of my vagina, and starts me on the inexorable, delicious road to the shaking, thunderous spasm of an almighty orgasm. The next three strokes seemed to blend into an orgy of pain and rapture which brought me right to the very edge, and then I heard Kathy say 'You're trembling all over, darling! Can't you take it?' 'Oh yes, yes,' I heard myself say, 'One more stroke, please, please, I'm cumming!' She thrashed me once more across my lower back, and I almost blacked out with the force of the tremendous, shuddering climax that overtook me. Before I knew what was happening, I was laid on the couch, and Kathy now wearing only her corset and stockings, was on top of me, in '69' position. My arse hurt abominably, but Kathy's tongue in my pussy was more than compensation. My arms were around her silk-clad thighs, and my own tongue was busy around her already-erect clit, grazing it with my stud. Before long we brought each other easily enough, and almost simultaneously, to panting, wet orgasms. 'Thank you, Miss Kathy,' I told her, and she reminded me to take my collar back to my room with me. When I got there, I found that she had sent Sandra to rub balm into the red welts I had on my buttocks. 'Miss Kathy said I can sleep with you if you want,' she said. 'That would be nice,' I replied. Sylvia's Switch Ch. 06 I still had almost a week left with the lovely Kathy, to whom my Mistress, Susana had loaned me, and I was determined to make the most of it. I was missing my Mistress, certainly -- my love for her was something very special, dating back to when she had rescued me from a life of abject misery with my husband. I didn't even want to think about those times. But life with Kathy was fun, and when she had caned me so viciously, the joy I experienced was a tangible thing, the recent memory of the kiss of that cane on my buttocks making me wet all over again, as her servant, Sandra, soothed balm into my raw wounds. I turned my head to look at her. She was jet-black, her straightened hair framing a pretty, oval face. She had come to my room wearing a short white, fur-trimmed, baby-doll nightdress, which contrasted startlingly with her velvet-smooth, ebony skin. Sharply-pointed breasts poked firmly at the translucent material. She had extra-long nails, which I knew were natural, and which she had painted white. They were tracing welts on my skin, some of which extended around the sides, almost to my belly. 'Mmmm,' I murmured, 'that's nice, Sandra!' I put my hands up to cup her breasts, and feel their firmness through the silky nylon, and she murmured appreciatively as I found the hardening nipples between finger and thumb. I tugged the hem of her baby-doll, and pulled her down to me, then kissed her hard on the lips. She melted instantly against me, and allowed me to push my studded tongue into her mouth, exploring, while she pushed her lithe, delicate little body up against me. She was firm all over -- not an ounce of fat on her, but somehow she managed not to be bony or skinny, with nice rounded buttocks which yielded when I ran my hands down to them. 'Oh,' she moaned, as I parted her arse-cheeks, and lightly touched a finger to the tiny puckered hole of her rectum, and her breathing had quickened noticeably. 'Come and lay with me, Sandra,' I told her, 'the Mistress has given me permission to sleep with you tonight.' 'But Sylvia,' she said, as she climbed onto the bed beside me, 'why did my Mistress cane you so horribly, cause all these marks?' 'I can't expect you to understand, my dear,' I replied, 'but I wanted her to punish me, wanted it more than anything.' She looked seriously at me, her big brown eyes liquid and lovely. 'I think I understand. Do you think she will punish me too?' I laughed. 'She may, if you want her to. Perhaps you should ask her.' 'That's enough talking,' I said, and pulled her close, feeling the entire length of her pressed against me, then felt for her pussy, stroking the smooth flesh of her shaven mound, and reaching her crack. She obligingly opened her legs to me, and I drew back so that I could see the folds of her labia. 'Open your pussy for me, Sandra,' I told her, and, after hesitating just a moment, her eyes never leaving mine, she reached down with both her slender hands and stretched her cunt-lips wide apart. I bent to look at the treasure within, and saw her glistening pink vagina, beckoning me. There was no resisting such beauty, and pulling my long hair out of the way, I went down on her, plunging my tongue straight into the hot depths of her cunt. She tasted wonderful, a musky essence that thrilled me. 'Oh, Sylvia!' she moaned, 'that's wonderful,' and she diddled her clit with a long finger as I fucked her with my studded tongue. Her breath was coming in short gasps as I found her rhythm, and then she screamed something unintelligible as a climax overcame her, and juices oozed from her cunt. When she had recovered, I showed her how to repay the favour, teaching her to lick my sensitive arsehole, then to ram two fingers deep into my velvet tunnel while she tongued my cunt. I came deliciously, then we slept, my arms around her smooth black body, one of her slim legs flung over me. We awoke during the night, but caressed each other gently back to sleep. When I woke up in the morning she had gone, and I heard her whistling tunelessly as she pottered about below in the kitchen. Kathy awaited me when I got downstairs, sipping her coffee, immaculately dressed in a sky-blue silk jersey dress, her silky blonde hair loose about her shoulders. 'You look ravishing, Miss Kathy,' I told her, and she smiled coolly. 'Did you have a good night, then?' 'Yes thank you, Miss Kathy.' 'That's good,' she said, then: 'Look, I have to go out now, to see a producer. I shall bring him and his wife back for lunch. Perhaps you would help Sandra this morning for me? She has to prepare the meal. I want you to dine with us, Sylvia, and I should like you to wear the clothes Sandra has been instructed to lay out for you.' With that, she left the table, and was gone. When I went to my room, I saw what I had been given to wear, laying across my newly-made bed. There was a black corset, a completely sheer black nylon long-sleeved shift-dress, and a packet containing black seamed stockings. By my bed stood a pair of black platform shoes, with silver needle heels. Although I would ordinarily have been excited at the idea of wearing such an outfit, I was aghast at the prospect of being exhibited in front of complete strangers thus attired. There was no point in getting dressed up just then, so I slipped into a track-suit and went down to give Sandra a hand. She seemed embarrassed, and didn't meet my look when I bade her good morning, but our brief conversations gradually loosened her up, as we got on with preparing a big spread for our guests. 'Do you know these people?' I asked her. 'I've met them once,' she replied. 'What are they like?' 'He's gorgeous, and she's nice as well, I think.' 'How old?' 'Quite old,' she said, 'hard to tell, but over forty, anyway.' I caught Sandra smiling an embarrassed smile at me then -- she realised that it had been her youth talking. She couldn't have been more than twenty, after all. When I next glanced at my watch, twelve was approaching, and I went up to dress. I took a quick shower, then brushed my long, thick, auburn hair until it shone, and took care over my make-up -- I didn't want Kathy to show me off to her guests in less than perfect condition. I fitted the corset around my body, then pulled its strap fastenings as tight as I could bear them, doing up the buckles at the side. When I looked in the mirror, I was satisfied. My waist looked reduced, tiny, and my breasts sat on top of the lace frill at the upper extent of the garment. I rolled on the stockings, straightened the seams, and cinched them to my corset's garter straps. The corset was cut high, front and rear, so that my buttocks, as well as my mound, were quite free. I pulled the dress over my head, and its hem fell to the floor in a whisper of soft nylon. In the mirror, every detail of my body, from my sharp, pointed, breasts to the start of my crack, and the little chains that dangled from my navel and from the ring through my clitoris, was visible through the black, transparent material. I stepped into the shoes, and checked my lips, adding just a little more gloss. I had left Mistress Susana's collar in place -- if that had got me punished, I didn't care -- my love for my true Mistress overrode all other concerns. As I watched myself walk on last time towards the mirror, I had a sudden flashback to my previous life. 'Life before Susana,' I would have to call the book I knew I should never write, and I reflected upon how my beloved Mistress had rescued and converted me. And now she had loaned me to the beautiful Kathy -- an adventure I was enjoying. I smiled at my erotic image. Justine and Sergio arrived with Kathy soon after I got downstairs. The darkly handsome Sergio, on being introduced to me, raised my hand to his lips, and, out of my eye-corner, I saw that Sandra, standing by in her tiny black miniskirt and fishnet stockings, was practically swooning. But I was much more impressed by his French wife. Justine was a platinum blonde, her straight, immaculately cut hair reaching down to her slim waist. Her eyes were a pale blue which leant her an almost unwordly look as she regarded me under long, long, lashes, a tiny smile on her luscious red lips. Tiny lines around her eye-corners and the inevitable sign of age around her neck placed her nearer fifty then forty. She wore a black, completely transparent blouse, but unlike me, she had covered her breasts under it, with a lacy black bra, through which her nipples were a dusky hint. Her skirt was narrow, tight around her knees, and shiny stockings encased her shapely calves, over a pair of fashionable heels, which I thought may be Blahniks. When she spoke, I realised with a shock of fascination that she had a tiny diamond inset into one of her front teeth, just like Davinia, the 'shemale' to whom my Mistress had once lent me. Then I noticed her hands. Her interest in self-decoration extended to her nails, which were sharp-pointed, maroon coloured, and very long indeed. She interested me, I decided. But that Kathy was also extremely interested in her became obvious as we ate. The food turned out fine, but my attention was upon the interplay between Kathy and Justine, who sat opposite one another, whilst in front of me was Sergio, whose eyes seldom strayed from my practically naked breasts. Justine's hands kept disappearing beneath the table, and I felt sure she was stroking Kathy's silken thighs, giving me a ridiculous pang of jealousy. Sandra, serving at table, paid a great deal of attention to Sergio, so that the result of it all was a sexually-charged tableau. Kathy said, almost formally, when we had finished our sweet, 'Shall we all go to my room? I have the impression that that would be a popular idea.' So saying, she clipped a leash onto my collar, and gave me a little tug. I followed her meekly upstairs, and we all trooped into her capacious bedroom, then she turned to Sandra, who had trailed in behind us, and said, 'Go and change now, as I told you earlier.' As Sandra slipped out of the door, Kathy was sliding down the zipper at the back of her dress. 'Why don't you make yourself comfortable, Justine?' she said, and the older woman started to unbutton her blouse. In an instant, Kathy stood in nothing but a skimpy satin garter belt, stockings and stilettos, and the first thing she did then was to fetch an upholstered stool for Sergio to sit on -- he was intended, I realised, to be a spectator! Kathy pulled me down onto the bed with her, tugging at my leash, and put her arm around me as we watched Justine undress. Self-consciously, she unclipped her bra, and slid the straps from her elegant shoulders. With some reluctance, she revealed nice round breasts, still quite firm for her age. Then she went about unzipping her black skirt, and wriggle it down over her hips, and let it fall to the floor, leaving her in stockings, garter belt and a pair of loose, silk, white French panties. 'Leave your stockings and belt on, why don't you?' said Kathy, and Justine stepped up to the bed, whereupon Kathy, looking her in the eye as she did so, smoothed the panties down past her hips, so that they whispered silkily down over her stockings. She stepped out of them, then sat, almost primly, on the edge of the bed, her hands still lingering around her breasts and pubis, in a futile attempt to cover up. I noticed that she had a neat, well-trimmed triangle of brown pubic hair -- obviously her natural colour. She was oddly ill-at-ease, making me think she may have been a novice at this kind of thing. My mind went briefly back to my own first time, with Susana -- how I missed her, even though it had been little more than a week since she had loaned me to Kathy. Meantime, I had slipped my shift off, and was sat in just the cruel corset, which, although uncomfortably tight, made me feel incredibly sexy, and my stockings. Kathy reached over and took Justine by the hand, and she looked coyly at the two of us, as Kathy's other hand was fondling one of my breasts while I stroked her thigh with long, langorous movements. Justine found herself being coaxed towards Kathy's other side, and soon the three of us were side-by-side, while Sergio watched intently, hand in his lap, surreptitiously stroking his cock, I thought. 'Prepare Justine for me, darling will you?' Kathy said quietly, and I wriggled around to the older woman while Kathy started to masturbate gently, her hand now moving rhythmically between her slim legs. I knew what Kathy wanted, and slid my body up against Justine's, then, taking her chin in my hand, I forced her to kiss me. At first she was reluctant, keeping her lips closed, but when my studded tongue wriggled its way between them, she quite suddenly relaxed, and opened herself to me, allowing me to explore her mouth with my tongue, at the same time kneading her soft breasts with both hands, until I heard her little moan of pleasure. Then I pushed my knee between hers, causing her to part her silk-clad legs. I sought her pussy with my hand, and found that she was moist. Beyond moist, in fact -- she was wet! I opened up her labia with my fingers, then knew it was time to step things up. I licked the whole of her slender torso, pausing to bite gently on a nipple, drawing a long, sonorous moan from somewhere in her depths. My tongue worked its way down, down, around her little triangle of wiry hair, and found her pussy, making her writhe, as I shifted between her legs, then she opened up completely for me, as I lapped her juicy pussy, lingering with my tongue around her fast-growing clit, then plunging it deep into the sweet, hot depths of her cunt. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Kathy was busy lubricating a long, flexible, double-ended dildo, whose acquaintance I had made, whilst beyond her, Sandra had returned, now wearing the white, fur-trimmed baby-doll. She was stood beside Sergio, who was fondling her naked arse, while she skilfully liberated his stiff, livid prick from its trouser-prison. Kathy nudged me out of the way, and, as she straddled Justine's legs, handed me the dildo. 'Would you like to moisten that for us, Sylvia?' she said, then began to kiss Justine deeply. I took the rubbery implemement, and introduced one lubricated end into my vagina. It slipped deep within me very easily, but felt nice as it buried itself deep in my hot, wet cunt. I gave it a few long strokes, in and out, then reversed it and did the same with the other end. I reluctantly handed it over, and Kathy inserted one end deep into the lovely, familiar sweetness of her fuckhole. She lay back, her legs astride Justine's, while I took the other end of the dildo, and thrust it into the older blonde's eager cunt. She groaned with sheer passion as her inner lips closed around the fat false prick, and, glancing over to her husband, I saw that Sandra had taken his rampant shaft deep into her throat, and was massaging his balls, as he watched his wife being fucked with the dildo. I slid up to her and busied myself kissing her, while she teased my nipples to fantastic erection. As I did this, I suddenly felt Kathy's long-nailed index finger penetrate my arsehole, and I knew then that an orgasm was well on its way. When Justine offered was still manipulating my sensitive tits, her breath was coming in ragged gasps as she was pounded by Kathy, the dildo buried deep inside her, and Kathy's finger in my arse was joined by another, my climax came, came upon me in a beautiful, slow, all-enveloping wave, which transported me to a world of brilliant colours I didn't want to leave. When I came back to earth, Justine was shuddering as her own orgasm hit her, and, looking beyond, I could see Sandra, her mouth open, as Sergio's cock exploded, shooting his hot load of cum all over her face. I knew that Kathy too would have climaxed -- she had remarkable control, and could cum almost at will. 'I'm going to miss you terribly when you return to Susana,' said Kathy. We were in bed naked together, much later, on the evening of the day of our lunch with Sergio and Justine. 'I want to thank you for helping me with Justine,' she said, 'she is going to come and live with me.' Surprised, I said, 'But she's married!' 'She's going to leave him. Anyway, so are you married.' 'You just said you would miss me,' I said, 'but you've been making plans to live with Justine.' 'It's not the same. I've loved having a slave these last ten days. I suppose I must really be a dominatrix.' 'You could try to convert Sandra into your slave. She asked me if you would punish her one day.' 'Hmmm,' she mused, 'I'd never thought about that. Perhaps I'd like to try it.' 'Well, you certainly seem to enjoy punishing me -- as much as I love being punished!' 'I've been wondering what it feels like to be punished, to experience a hard caning, for instance.' 'It's really exciting. At first it hurts like hell, but then something seems to take over. I have sometimes cum twice while I'm being whipped.' Talking like this was having an effect on Kathy, and she threw a long, slim leg over me, bringing her open pussy within easy reach of my hand. When I put it to her crack, she was soaking wet, and was breathing heavily before I had my fingers inside her. Kathy gave a tug at my hair, howing me that she wanted me to flip over. Both of us loved the '69' position, and her tongue was soon working, first on my pussy, then what I loved best, her long tongue poking into my super-sensitive anus. When I returned the favour, my stud grazing the portals of her rectum, she cried out sharply and juices oozed from her cunt. Later, exhausted, we lay in each other's arms, and we were just like that, entwined toghether, when Sandra brought us breakfast next morning. Kathy went shopping, leaving me to try on dresses. She had a wardrobe-full that she said she would never wear again -- they had been worn just the once, for promotions and the like -- and she said I was welcome to any of them. I liked a short, tight black velvet cocktail dress, and was still wearing it when Kathy returned. She showed me what she had bought. It was a long leather riding crop, just like the one Susana had. 'That's nice,' I remarked, and told her that Susana used one on me frequently. 'I suppose it must hurt?' she asked. 'Yes, a great deal.' 'I'd like to try it out.' 'What, now?' 'Yes.' 'I'll get ready then,' I said. I started to unzip my dress at the back. 'No, no!' said Kathy, 'I want you to try it on me.' 'But......are you sure?' I wasn't sure she realised how much it was going to hurt. 'I'm sure. I'll go and get ready.' She was wearing a fabulous cream Armani suit. 'I'll go get into something more suitable,' she said. I waited in the lounge until Kathy came back, wearing a short blue silk baby-doll nightdress, which only reached down to just around her pubis, where it was prettily trimmed with lace. She had pinned her long blonde hair up in a twist. She walked up to me and kissed me. 'Let me be your slave, for once, Sylvia. I want you to hurt me, please, mistress!' 'Take your nightie off,' I told her sharply, throwing a cushion on the floor, 'and kneel!' She obeyed, putting the baby-doll over a chair back. She looked lovely, kneeling there, her straight back and slender form so elegant, her firm, round breasts thrusting out like a challenge. She looked around at me almost imploringly, for all the world as if I was about to grant her a favour. 'You know I'm going to hurt you, don't you?' I said. 'Oh yes, please do!' 'Put your hands up to the back of your neck!' I tested the feel of the long leather crop, and it made a satisfying swish as I wielded it. Making sure of my aim, I touched it to her slim white back, then drew my arm back, and gave her a first, brutal stroke just below the shoulder blades. She gasped at the severity of the stinging blow, and turned this way and that a couple of times, but her hands stayed where they were. Sylvia's Switch Ch. 06 There was no sense of revenge in my mind, as I lashed her, striping her back with a pretty ladder-pattern of welts, but something told me I shouldn't hold back, and as I warmed to my task, I couldn't help thinking that perhaps I had a little of the dominatrix in me as well as yearning punishment for myself. At about the sixth stroke, I finally had the satisfaction of hearing Kathy cry out. Thinking that perhaps I had been too cruel, I put down the crop. When she turned to look up at me, there were tears in her gorgeous blue eyes. 'Oh Sylvia!' was all she said, and pulled me into a tight embrace, kissing me almost desperately. We made love on the couch, then lay together for a long time. Finally she told me that she had climaxed while I was whipping her. 'I will probably get Justine to punish me when she comes to live with me,' she said, as I tended her welts, soothing them with balm. 'I do hope you won't forget me, Kathy,' I said, 'when I'm back with Susana, You must come and see us -- I know Susana will like that too.' 'Of course I will come. Our time together has been wonderful,' she said. The rest of my stay with Kathy passed quickly. We made love frequently, and not only did she whip me twice, but she made me wear nipple clamps which brought tears to my eyes, sometimes for hours on end. She got me to explain what it meant to be a slave to Sandra, who told Kathy she would like to try it, and on my last day with her, she chained the little servant up and flogged her cruelly, then the three of us tumbled into bed, and made love inventively all afternoon. It was time to return to Susana. When I got to her mansion, in late afternoon, although it was a place I had got used to calling my home, I felt suddenly nervous. What if Adela and Paloma had jointly taken my place in my mistress's heart? What had happened in my absence, which had been arranged so that Susana could train Adela and Paloma to be slaves? I had only known them as servants, and wondered how they had adapted to th rigorous, but infinitely pleasurable, life as slaves. I got out of the taxi, and rang Susana's doorbell. A stranger came to the door -- a girl who could only have been Chinese. 'Hello,' she said, in a pretty voice, as she curtsied in an oddly old-fashioned way, on the step, 'I am Lucy, and you must be Sylvia -- I was told to expect you.' 'The mistress is out shopping just now,' said Lucy, 'but she'll be back very soon. She told me you would probably want to freshen up, so let me take your bag for you.' She preceded me up the stairs, the short skirt of her maid's uniform revealing an inch of slim white thigh above fishnet stockings. Susana could certainly pick them, I thought. 'Where are Adela and Paloma?' I asked her. 'They have gone. Finished,' she said. I grabbed her hand. 'Whatever has been going on?' 'I don't know, really. When I came here, yesterday, there was only Mistress Susana here.' I showered, wondering what had happened, slipped into a long white cotton dress I knew my mistress liked to see me in, gave my hair a long brushing, and went downstairs. Susana had just arrived, looking coolly elegant in an off-white Armani trouser-suit, and she hugged me tightly. 'Oh Sylvia, darling, it's wonderful to see you, and you look ravishing,' she said, 'if I had known what was going to happen, I should never have loaned you to Kathy. But I forget my manners - did you enjoy your stay with her?' 'Yes thank you, but I missed you terribly, Mistress Susana!' 'And I missed you too, darling. Adela and Paloma have left me -- they fell in love with each other, and decided to go away together.' 'But you were lucky to find Lucy, weren't you?' 'I was, but she's quite inexperienced as a maid, and I need you to help me train her, Sylvia.' 'It will be a pleasure,' I replied, 'what would you like me to teach her?' 'She will have to learn discipline. Even though she is a maid, and not my slave, I always require that of all my domestic staff, as you know. And she will have to learn about our mode of dress and so forth, so that she can help you prepare yourself when we have guests. Oh, I don't know, there is so much she needs to be taught.' 'I'll do what I can, Mistress,' I told her. 'I know you will, darling. Tonight, I've asked her to prepare a dinner to celebrate your return. So let's go and change, shall we?' I knew what was expected of me for the evening, I thought, as I shrugged out of the cotton dress. I rummaged through the dresses in my closet, and found what I was looking for, a backless halter-neck long gown in a silky material, shimmering silver, with a loose bodice which would allow my breasts to jiggle prettily -- just what my Mistress liked to see. When I stepped into a pair of very high stilettos, and walked about in front of my big mirror, I thought I had never looked sexier. Lifting up the hem of the dress, I stood and masturbated, enjoying a wonderful, narcissistic climax as I watched myself in the mirror. My legs turned to jelly as I came, and I had to sit in my armchair while I brushed my hair. When I went downstairs, Susana was stood by the fireplace in the dining room, and my heart leapt at the sight of her. Kathy was undoubtely beautiful, but nobody could compete with the sheer erotic impact that my Mistress created. And she had worn -- I liked to think in my honour -- the very dress she had worn on our first date, and long black lace sheath, long-sleeved and high-necked, which would have been decorous had it not been virtually transparent. As on that first night, she was naked underneath it, save for her panties. Then she had worn black lace ones, now red silk, but still tied at the sides with big ribbons. The prominent nipples on her tiny breasts protruded through the lace. Her black hair was swirled up on top of her head, and she wore long, silver ear-rings. 'Oh Mistress, you look marvellous,' I told her. 'You too, darling.' We sat at the table, and Lucy served us an oriental meal, with spicy Thai dishes befitting the occasion. When we had finished, and Lucy was clearing away, reaching past me, Susana said, 'Caress her, will you darling? I'm sure she'll like it.' Obediently, I ran my hand up the Chinese girl's thigh, up beyond the top of her fishnet stockings, to the pale flesh above. She flinched in surprise at first, but stayed where she was, and turned towards me, a faint smile on her lips. Then she turned back towards our Mistress, across the table, as I stroked her smooth upper thigh, very slowly. Mistress Susana reached over and fondled Lucy's face, then let her suck her long-nailed, elegant fingers. The Chinese girl's eyes were glued to Mistress Susana's extraordinary nipples, jutting through black lace. But I had made a discovery. 'She's wearing panties!' I said. 'Oh dear,' said Susana, 'I shall, of course, have to punish her.' Then, to Lucy, she said harshly, 'Get rid of them, NOW!' Lucy moved back from the table, then coyly reached up under her little skirt and pulled down the offending cotton panties, balling them up, and putting them hesitantly in the waste-bin. Meanwhile, my Mistress had stood up, and said, 'I am the only person allowed to wear what I want around here, but I seldom wear panties anyway.' With that, she slipped her hands through slits I'd hadn't realised existed, in the sides of her dress, an flipped open the bow-ties of her own panties, then pulled the flimsy silk through one of the slits. She was quite naked under the lace, and I had never seen her look more desirable. 'Oh, Mistress,' I said spontaneously, 'how I've missed you!' Just then I knew love as never before, and my juices were in danger of staining my pretty dress. I stood up and walked around the table, and into my Mistress's arms. She kissed me tenderly, then told Lucy to come over to us. The little Chinese girl stood trembling in front of her, while Susana slowly unbuttoned her silk blouse, cupped her nice firm tits in both hands, then startled her by slapping her face with stinging force. The girl staggered back, and started to cry. Susana told her to shut up. 'Have her kneel,' she said to me, and I threw a cushion on the floor, and indicated that the girl, now clad in just her miniskirt and fishnet stockings, should kneel on it. 'Put her hair out of the way,' said Susana, and I lifted the plaited rope of her black hair from her back, and let it fall across her breasts. Meanwhile, Susana had taken her faithful riding crop from its place on the sideboard. 'You know you must be punished, don't you?' she said to Lucy, who mumbled a reply. 'What?' demanded Susana. 'Yes Mistress,' came the response. 'I'm going to hurt you now,' said my Mistress, and I felt envious of Lucy as Susana took careful aim, then, without further delay, lashed the maid severely across her hite, tender back, raising an instant red welt, and causing her to cry out sharply. 'I shall give you six altogether,' said Susana, 'so that you will learn discipline. Later you may come to know the pleasure that punishment can bring.' She smiled at me as she said this, and knew that I was anticipating my own delicious torture. But Lucy looked as if she was a long way from enjoyment -- she was sobbing quietly as the Mistress's crop fell for the last time on her soft flesh. The stripes thus created made a pretty pattern down her back, and when my Mistress told me to 'take her away and kiss her better,' I led her up to my room joyfully. I was going to love 'kissing her better.' That the resumption of my life with Susana was complete was clear when, as I was about to leave the room, Susana wheeled me around and kissed me, long and deeply, seeking my studded tongue with hers, then said, 'When you've finished, I'll be waiting for you in my room, darling.' Sylvia's Switch Ch. 07 Continuing the saga of Sylvia's conversion to a Lesbian lifestyle, and her subjugation by the exotic Susana, that started under 'Calandria' – for technical reasons now under my new author-designation. Nobody in this story is under 18. My mistress's house felt quiet, with Paloma and Adela no longer in residence, and Lucy, the new Chinese maid, still feeling her way into the household. I soon fell back into the household routine, but had no warning that my life was about to be turned upside-down – again. At first, the regular visits from the beautiful blonde Kathy seemed innocent enough. We dined together, usually at home, but occasionally in restaurants, and Susana treated me, on those occasion, more like a friend than the slave I had become. Later, when we made love in her queen-size bed, she stroked my hair as I gently bit down on her clitoris, and always came when I tongued her arsehole. But, if I noticed any change at all, it was that she seemed to have lost the taste for punishing me, and only whipped me, as I remember, on one occasion, and then only because I begged her to. One night, though, after we had finished a lovely Thai meal prepared by the attentive Lucy, Susana sent me to fetch from her room a handbag Kathy wanted to borrow. When I returned, I thought I detected a guilty movement apart, as if, I thought, they had been kissing. They moved further apart than was usual, and Kathy's lovely, pale features looked flushed. It set me to wondering – I shouldn't have thought twice about my mistress kissing Kathy, or even if they made love, so why would they move in that guilty fashion? I started to take note of little things, gestures, chance words, on Kathy's increasingly frequent visits. Then, one day, Susana announced, over breakfast, that she would be away for the next two nights, without any explanation of where she was going. I was upset, because she normally shared such things with me, even usually taking me with her. When the taxi had whisked her off, I sat in the lounge, still wearing my robe, a book open, though the print looked blurred through a mist of tears. Lucy appeared from nowhere and stood with a hand on my shoulder. 'I don't like to see you crying,' she said, in her weetly-accented voice, gently rubbing my shoulder. I inclined my head, and kissed her long, slender fingers, looking up at her. She sat down on the arm of the sofa, her little black skirt riding up so that I could see a little pale flesh above the black lace of her stocking-tops. 'What is wrong?' she asked me. 'I don't think mistress Susana wants me any more.' Lucy wiped my tears away with her fingers, but offered no opinion. I looked at her pretty face, and 'inscrutable Chinese' came into my mind, but without really knowing what I was doing, I ran my hand slowly up her nylon-covered leg. She watched my hand, then looked back into my eyes. Her pretty mouth was slightly open, and I sensed that her breathing quickened. My hand had a life of its own, and crawled over her silky flesh, until my fingertips reached her hairless pussy. She let out the tiniest , almost imperceptible, gasp. I reached her wrist with my free hand, and pulled her down onto the sofa beside me. 'Oh, Miss Sylvia,' she breathed, 'please don't be sad – you are so beautiful when you smile.' 'You don't smile much, Lucy.' 'I am not very happy,' she said, 'because I am lonely.' 'But the mistress thinks very highly of you - she has told me so.' 'She never tells me, though.' My heart went out to her, despite my own concerns. 'Kiss me,' I told her, as I lightly traced her neat labia with the fingers of one hand, and snaked the other arm around her neck, under her glossy black mane of hair. She did as I asked, tentatively at first, then let her tongue slide into my mouth, its tip seeking out my stud. Soon we were kissing passionately, and I pinched her growing clit between my thumb and forefinger, causing a low moan to come from somewhere deep in her throat. 'Come on, we will be more comfortable in my bed,' I told her, and stood up, extending a hand to her. I led her up to my room, slipped off my robe, and watched her as she shyly undressed. 'You can leave your stockings and suspender belt on,' I told her as she slipped off her skirt, then she turned away from me as she unbuttoned her blouse. When she turned again to face me, her arms covered her breasts. I reached out and pulled an arm away. 'Don't be shy, Lucy,' I said. 'But – but....I'm so small!' 'You are truly lovely, and your tits are bigger than mistress Susana's.' In truth, it was a close-run thing – neither had more than little, almost adolescent mounds, and Lucy's nipples and aureola didn't match the spectacular ones my mistress had, but her boyish chest, I thought, had a special charm. I took her into my arms, and resumed kissing her. She responded now with gusto, and when I bent to bit gently on her nipples, they quickly became as hard as pebbles. Continuing downwards, I traced her flat belly with my tongue, then thrust it between her discreet labia. 'Open your legs wide,' I had to tell her, and she responded immediately, flinging her slender, nylon-clad limbs wider than I would have thought possible, until I remembered her telling me she had once been a budding gymnast. Her open cunt glistened pink, and, when I licked the whole length of her crack, she tasted sweet. I plunged my studded tongue hard into her vagina, and she groaned, and squirmed under me. 'Oh, Miss Sylvia, oh, oh!' she cried, and I could sense her impending orgasm, which only needed me to bite down on her clit, then she actually squirted copiously all over my face. 'Miss Sylvia,' she gasped, when she had come down, 'I'm so sorry. Are you angry with me?' 'You silly girl,' I said, 'that was lovely. But now you can do the same for me.' I showed her then how to bring me off, first lapping my eager, hot cunt, then tonguing my arsehole, and finally ramming three fingers deep into my velvet tunnel, until I screamed, and my climax hit me like a tornado. We stayed on my bed together until hunger pangs set us thinking about lunch. As we tucked into a defrosted pizza, Lucy never took her eyes off me. 'You would like to tell me something, wouldn't you, Lucy? 'Er-yes,' she replied, hesitantly, then blurted out, 'Mistress Susana has gone with Miss Kathy.' Even though I suspected as much, it was a bombshell. 'How do you know?' 'I saw the airline tickets and hotel reservation on her bedside table. I'm so sorry, Miss Sylvia.' 'Where have they gone?' Not that it mattered. 'To Rome.' 'Oh.' We ate, then, in silence, each with her own thoughts. After lunch, I went to bed alone – more in order to think than to rest. What I decided upon was that I should leave, and leave immediately. Where to go? I hadn't a clue, but I just knew that I couldn't stay where I wasn't wanted. Quietly, I got up and started to pack a small suitcase and a rucksack – the ones I had taken to Mexico, what seemed like a century ago. As I did so, I wondered how I could survive, and remembered that I had the two credit cards Susana had given me. I didn't think she'd mind if I made use of them – she wasn't a vindictive person, and, as far as I knew, I had done nothing wrong. I thought she'd just be relieved to have seen the last of me. I wrote her a note:- Dear Susana, I now know you have gone away with Kathy. Although I am sad to have lost your love, I feel no bitterness towards you – or for Kathy. I shall remember you with much fondness, as you have shown me a whole new life. It is clearly time for me to move on. I have taken only a few clothes, but I hope you won't mind if I use your credit cards sparingly, until I get on my feet. Please look after Lucy – she needs your tenderness. I shall always have a special place in my heart for you Love Sylvia. Call me a coward if you like, but I couldn't face a tearful goodbye to Lucy, so, as I knew she had to go and buy vegetables, I waited until I heard her go out, gave her time to get clear, then called a taxi, which I knew would be there quickly, as the rank was just around the corner. All the time I had been packing, I had thought about where I could go. There wasn't anybody I knew, anywhere but England, and I sure as hell wasn't going back to that cold, grim place, so full of unpleasant memories. My Spanish was now fluent, and coupled to my native English, I thought I'd have the best chance of getting work where people went on holiday. I bought a ticket to Alicante, and spent the four hour train ride plotting my strategy. By the time the short 'bus ride deposited me amidst the skyscrapers of Benidorm, it was quite late at night. I booked into a simple hotel near the 'bus station, and crashed – it had been a long day. Next morning I awoke to a warm, bright, May day, and set about seeking a job, trying all the best-looking hotels. I struck lucky, after a frustrating couple of hours, when I walked into the cool, verdant foyer of the Hotel Reina del Mar. When I asked the male receptionist if I could see the manager, a well-groomed lady in a dark purple business suit, who had been posting keys into cubbyholes behind him, interrupted. 'I'm the owner. How can I help?' 'Perhaps I could have a word?' She approached the counter. 'You're looking for job.' She smiled. 'I suppose it is obvious. Yes, I just wondered.....' She looked me up and down, and I was glad I had dressed in a skirt and silk blouse, with high-heeled sandals, rather than the ubiquitous jeans and tee-shirt – I had learned from Susana that clothes give you confidence. 'You are a well-presented young lady,' she said, 'but your Spanish isn't native, is it?' 'I am English.' 'Ah.' Cool grey eyes regarded me. After a pause, she continued. 'As it happens, Tomás here is leaving this weekend, so I have a position for a receptionist. If you are interested, I am prepared to give you a two-week trial.' Was I interested? Is the Pope catholic? I tried not to appear too eager, but didn't fool Doña Martina, as I found she liked to be known – she knew I was – well, if not desperate, anxious to find work. I was grateful that she didn't ask me much about my background, as I didn't want to go into details about my sudden departure from Madrid. I agreed to start the next morning, to 'learn the ropes' from Tomás, so it was back to my grotty little room for one night. Next morning, Doña Martina was there waiting for me, and within an hour, I was fitted out with my uniform – a maroon skirt-suit – and shown to my room. I had been given the option of living in, with a greatly reduced salary, and gladly accepted the arrangement. With my meals provided, I should need very little to live on, I thought. My room was on the twelfth (top) floor. There were six rooms my side of the lifts, and a huge brutish-looking man, wearing chef's gear, whom I later found was called Oscar, was emerging from one across the corridor as I came out of mine. Doña Martin had volunteered the information that my co-receptionist occupied the room next to mine. The work seemed simple enough, but Tomás warned me about guests who didn't vacate their rooms in time for the twelve noon deadline, and about the several per week who got stroppy about being charged for telephone calls, room service or use of the minibar. In my first day, I twice had to help out with my English, so I thought I should be OK. Whilst Tomás was out having lunch, I took a look at the computerised register. Sure enough, the six rooms at my side of the top floor, were all marked as occupied by 'staff.' The top-floor rooms at the other side of the building, twelve in all, each had a pair of initials marked aginst them, unlike all the rooms lower down, where full names and details appeared. When Tomás came back, I asked him why. 'They're let for the season to people from the clubs,' he said. 'What clubs?' 'Oh, Doña Martina owns three clubs in town, and some of the staff stay here.' Two weeks later, I met DD. My first week proper, I was on mornings, starting at the ungodly hour of six, but having the afternoon free from two, so that I had a nice siesta, then raided the surprisingly good range of clothes shops that Benidorm had to offer, having a last fling on Susana's credit cards before I sent them back. My mind dwelt on my time with her, often when I lay in bed, and I sometimes cried myself to sleep, though whether it was from missing her, or from the hurt she had done me taking up with Kathy, I didn't want to ponder. The second week, my 'other half' – a chubby Belgian girl called Melanie – took over the morning spot, and I got to sleep in, coming on duty at two, until the night guy wandered in, invariably late, around ten. On the second afternoon, at around six, I was tidying the computerised register after a hectic hour or so, when I felt, rather than heard, someone putting a key down on the counter. I looked up to see a girl with long, long, blonde hair and a little flared white minidress, like a tennis dress, going out through the revolving door. Putting her key in the rack, I saw that it bore the number 1216 – she was one of the 'long-termers' on my floor. Checking against the register, I found the initials 'DD.' Around eight, I was taking advantage of a quiet spell to write to my mum, when 'DD' returned, carrying several bags, and asked for the key to 1216. 'You are new?' she asked, a pronounced French accent coming through her Spanish. 'Yes,' I said, instantly captivated by her lithe, slim form, and slightly pouting, intensely Gallic features, 'but what does DD stand for?' 'It stands for Dominique Dubois, but everyone calls me Didi,' she smiled. 'And you work for Doña Martina?' 'I am a stripper.' It came out 'strippeur.' I imagined her naked, and thought how gorgeous she would look. I am irresistibly attracted to slim girls with small firm breasts. She mistook my look for disapproval. 'It's not the same as being a puta, you know!' 'I know, I know! I...I was wondering, wondering if you like your....work?' 'Yes, I do. I like to give pleasure. It excites me to show my body.' 'You're very beautiful,' I heard myself saying, and thought: I'd give a month's salary to sleep with her! 'Thank you,' she said, 'but I need a shower now – I've been shopping.' She brandished her spoils, then as she turned to get the lift, she said tentatively, 'Perhaps you'd like to come to one of my shows?' 'I'd love to, but aren't your audience all men.' 'By no means. I get couples, and quite a few women. I sometimes think I appeal to women more.' You certainly appeal to me, I didn't say, but I agreed to go with her when she went to work that evening, at eleven. When I finished work, I was in a quandary – what to wear? I had a couple of evening gowns that I had brought with me, but decided they were too dressy. A skirt and blouse, on the other hand, just didn't do it. I settled finally on a silky green summer dress, mid-thigh length, which fitted me snugly down to the hips, then flared out so that it was cool around my thighs – a feeling I loved, especially as I still retained the custom of wearing no underwear that Susana had first insisted upon, but which had become habit. When I looked in the mirror, the outline of my breasts, with their pointed nipples, was readily discernible. I wondered about going bare-legged, but eventually chose a pair of white, lace-topped hold-ups, stepped into a pair of strappy stilettos, put in long silver pendant ear-rings, clasped a tight silver amulet around my upper arm, and clipped on a silver anklet. I went down and waited for Didi in reception. Why had she invited me? Did she find me attractive? I sensed that she was – well, at least bisexual, if not gay – it was just something about her comportment. When she emerged from the lift, I was disappointed to see that she was wearing jeans and a baggy tee-shirt. 'Oh my,' she said, 'you look good enough to eat – and just look at me!' 'I imagine you have to change when you get there,' I said, making her excuse for her. 'That's true, but I still feel sloppy beside you.' We had to go by taxi, was the club as the other side of town. In the back of the cab, Didi suddenly said, 'I noticed you have your tongue pierced. Is that your only piercing?' 'Perhaps you'd like to look?' I joked. 'Mmmm, maybe.' She replied, leaving me wondering for the rest of the ride – would she really like to look? We got out under a red and blue neon sign proclaiming:- Sylvia's Switch Ch. 07 She pulled the middle-aged man up onto the stage, and indicated that he should lace up her corset. As soon as he had accomplished this, she took his hands in hers and placed them on her naked breasts, pushed up by the tightness of the corset. Some applause broke out as she led the guy back to his seat, and went to sit in the lap of one of his neighbours for a moment. She skipped lightly back onto the stage, slipped her arms into a long grey silk evening gown, stood into a pair of formal stilettos, and was sat again at her dressing table, brushing out her long blonde hair, when the music again changed. This time it was Jane Birkin, and 'Je t'aime – moi non plus.' Didi slowly rose, and gyrated as she stroked her body. I felt her blue eyes on me – they seemed to bore into me. Was she dancing for me, or was I suffering from an illusion shared by half the people in the place? Erotically, she slid the dress up her stockings and her thighs beyond, reached under the hem and pulled down her panties. Still decently clad, there was the sense that her pussy was naked under the silk of the dress. I glanced at the couple at the next table, and saw that the dark-haired woman was doing something under the tablecloth to her partner. Didi slowly sat down on the couch, sliding the hem of the dress up her long legs, and picking up the material of her discarded nightgown, draped a corner of it across her pussy, before it coud be seen. As Jane Birkin started to moan, though, she drew the white nylon away, and opened her legs wide, so that her pink, glistening cunt was displayed. She now licked the fingers of one hand, while she parted her labia with two fingers of the other, then slowly transferred two wet fingers from her mouth to plunge them deep into her cunt. The music came to an end, and Didi stood and took the audience's applause. I had the impression that several of the men were unable to join in! As she left the stage, I could have sworn she looked deliberately in my direction and winked. I had to go out to the toilet and dry myself up. I was on my second beer, and idly watching a so-called 'lesbian' act, which had all the sex-appeal of a political speech, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. 'Well?' asked Didi. She had a black, patterned kimono pulled around her slim body. 'Very sexy,' was my verdict, 'I think half those guys creamed their trousers.' 'What about you?' I looked at her then, uncertain of how to answer. I sensed that we had arrived at a point of no return – the wrong response now, and it was goodbye, the right on and....... 'I er...reacted. And, yes, I have some other decorations.' I smiled at her, and she was about to respond when the big-breasted woman who had announced her sat down beside us without being invited. 'Who's your friend?' she asked Didi. 'This is Sylvia – she's receptionist at the Reina.' 'She's very pretty.' As if I wasn't there. 'Yes, isn't she?' Now the woman addressed me. 'I am Cecilia, Martina's sister. I could offer you work here, if you ever get tired of the hotel – I'll tell my sister.' I was flattered, but couldn't see myself as a stripper. When Cecilia had gone, I said as much to Didi. 'You have the looks for it,' she said, then, 'Look, I've gotta go – my second spot is coming up.' When she came on stage for the second time, whe was dressed in a tight silver minidress, and proceeded to do a more-or-less normal striptease – not nearly as provocative as her first, rather unusual, spot, but when she took off her dress, she was clad in only a pair of completely transparent white panties, and a half-bra which left her nipples poking out uncovered. She stepped off the stage and went around the tables, sitting in the laps of several men, once choosing a florid-faced overweight guy, who was sat beside a well-preserved woman who may or may not have been his wife. As she sat in the guy's lap, she bent over and kissed his partner on the lips, drawing a round of applause. She was quite clearly the club's star turn. In the back of the taxi, headed back to our hotel, Didi took my hand in hers. 'I'm so tired tonight, Sylvia,' she said, 'but tomorrow is my night off. Would you come to bed with me?' She anxiously watched my face in the light of the passing street-lamps, to gauge my reaction to what amounted to a sudden declaration. 'Oh yes,' I said, 'yes please!' She squeezed my hand – we were arriving at the hotel. Just how I got through the next day I shall never know. It seemed a long time now since I had had someone to love, and although I still thought about Susana, the memory of her slender body, her delicate perfume, was fading, just as the marks of her whippings on my body had long since disappeared. As I worked that afternoon, I thought more about Didi, and was deep into a vision of her showing her pussy on stage when I sensed that someone was standing at the reception desk. I turned from the computer, and was looking straight at Didi's beautiful face. I suddenly thought she might have come to cancel our arrangement. 'Hello darling,' she said quietly, in her slightly deep, accented voice, 'I just wanted to tell you not to have anything to eat before you come to my room – I'll order Chinese, if that's OK.' 'Sure it's OK.' 'Let's say eleven, then.' She turned and went out of the revolving door, leaving behind a whiff of....what? Givenchy? I thought so. Didi was back before my shift finished. She was carrying a bag from Ann Summers. 'You been treating yourself?' I asked. 'Nightdress and negligee set.' 'Mmmm – you going to wear it tonight?' 'Why not?' I was pleased that I had found out obliquely what to wear when I went to her room. It would have been awful to turn up dressed for a nightclub, to find her ready for bed – vice versa would have been even worse! My relief turned up twenty minutes late, as usual, and I was having kittens by the time I got away. I needed a shower, and took a long time over my hair and make-up, even though I wanted to look casual. I suddenly realised that I had only ever taken this much care for Susana – I was dangerously close to falling in love. When I had brushed my long mane of black hair until it shone, I rummaged in a drawer and found the heavy silver chain I wore around my waist during my time with Susana. Then I clipped on a matching anklet, and put in a pair of long, single chain silver ear-rings which brushed my shoulders, and, as a finishing touch, clipped the three silver links with a clasped birthstone at the end onto my clit ring – I had a feeling Didi would like that. I took from my wardrobe the nightgown and negligee set that Susana had given to me when she had first taken me into her home. It was a long white silk set, soft and expensive-feeling, with lace trim at hem and neckline, and on the cuffs of the negligee's long, voluminous sleeves. Before I put it on, I held the gown up to my body, delighting in the feel of the soft silk, and found my hand involuntarily straying to my pussy. In my mirror, I saw that I looked just like I had always tried to do for Susana, except for the silver collar, which I had deliberately left in my room at her house. Sighing, I slipped into the gown, put the negligee on, stepped into a pair of high-heeled white mules, and peeked out of my door – I didn't want to encounter anyone on my way to Didi's room. Didi let me in, and I looked around her room. It was far bigger than mine – quite spacious in fact, with sofa, two chairs and a small table, set for dinner, as well as a big double bed. I turned to look at Didi. Her long blonde hair framed her pretty face, and I loved her new outfit, which consisted of a short, black, totally transparent, fur trimmed nightie, beneath an equally transparent, long black negligee, which tied at the back with several bows of black ribbon, so that every detail of her slender body was visible through the two layers of nylon. 'God, Didi, you look good enough to eat,' I said. 'And you look a million dollars, darling. But talking of eating, shall we sit down and do that? I'm starving.' I hadn't realised how hungry I was, and readily agreed. Didi had ordered a veritable feast and we tucked in in silence, drinking Lambrusco to wash it down. Then there came that awkward moment when we both wanted to make a move, but didn't want to be first. I was immensely attracted to Didi, and sensed it was mutual. She eventually leaned over the table and laid a hand on mine. That did it – in no time we were in each other's arms, kissing hungrily, as I probed with my studded tongue, running it along hers as I stroked her silky hair. I cupped her breasts with my other hand, loving their firm, jutting feel, and the exciting tautening of her long nipples under the flimsy nylon. She sort of purred as she, in turn, stroked my eager tits under my silk nightgown. Didi gently slid up the hem of my nightgown, stroking my legs sensuously, all the waay up my thighs, making me tense with anticipation as I kneaded her lovely breasts. When she arrived at my pussy, she gave a playful tug at the little chain which dangled from my clit. 'Mmmm!' I murmured, and let my hands wander down over her flat belly, reaching her smooth, hairless slit, and parting her labia as I had watched her do it herself a few hours before, on stage. She gasped as I found her clit and flicked at it with a long fingernail, then plunged two fingers deep into her warm, wet, cunt. 'Oh Sylvia,' she whispered, 'I've been so excited – I could hardly wait for this. I think I've fallen in love with you.' That was music to my ears, and I kissed her with an urgency born of my own need to love, and be loved. We wriggled around until we were in a '69' position, and I lapped her glistening crack, only pausing to drink in its beauty with my eyes, as Didi expanded and contracted her cunt-muscles, causing her hole to pulse as I thrust my tongue deep inside her, and felt the ecstasy of her doing the same for me. 'I'm cumming!' Oh, Didi, I'm cumming, NOW!' I moaned, then screamed as a mighty, pent-up orgasm exploded within me. Simultaneously, I rammed a long forefinger up Didi's arsehole, felt her stiffen and was aware of a sudden gush of vaginal fluid. We had both cum at the same time. We slept in each others' arms, awakening at dawn to bring ourselves to a slower, gentler climax this time. 'My darling Sylvia,' said Didi, 'I've just had the night of my life. And we have so many things to explore together, haven't we?' I didn't know if she had anything specific in mind, but what I did know was that I would go along with whatever she wanted. I was really in love. I went back to my room to dress, and met Didi again to go out for coffee and a croissant. While we ate, I asked her, 'Tonight?' 'Oh darling, I can't tonight.' Just that, no explanation, though I knew the club was closed that evening – I was taken aback, and fell silent. She sensed my hurt, and reached for my hand, saying with a smile, 'Trust me, my darling – you'll see.' As I had time on my hands in Reception that day, I went over such conversation as we had had, and was left wondering why on earth Didi couldn't see me that evening – she had asked me to trust her, though, and I supposed I had no option but to do so. Later that evening, my world fell apart. I went up to my room and changed into a pair of old jeans and a tee-shirt, but suddenly felt hungry, so went back down in the lift, nodded to the Night Porter, and went out, and around the corner to get myself a pizza to take back to my room. As I turned into the side street, something made me look over my shoulder, and I saw Didi crossing the road at the zebra crossing, heading for the hotel. Even in the dark, her long, miniskirted legs, slim body and long blonde hair were unmistakeable. But what devastated me, and made me stagger against the wall of the building, was that she was holding the hand of a pretty, slender, petite girl with shoulder-length brown hair, and chatting as they walked. And I had thought she loved me! I was too upset to eat now, and walked the streets for a long time, then made my way back to my room. I was sure Didi hadn't seen me, and wondered what she would have said if she had. I cried myself to sleep – losing love seemed to be becoming a speciality with me. During the next two days, I lived in a daze. I just couldn't believe what Didi had done to me. I went out of my way to avoid her – it wasn't too difficult, as my shift had changed to mornings, but one afternoon, when I saw her walking towards me in the Shopping Centre, I ducked into a shoe shop to evade her. The next morning, about an hour before I was to be relieved, I was concentrating on preparing a bill for someone checking out, when I heard someone come up to the desk. I looked up, and found myself looking straight at Didi! 'Have you been avoiding me?' she asked. 'What do you think?' I rejoined. 'I think you have been avoiding me, and I want to know why.' 'I should have thought it was obvious,' I said bitterly, 'You bring another woman up to your room, only the night after....after...' 'Oh, my poor darling,' she said, 'I knew I should have told you...' 'Yes, you fucking should!' I yelled, and a guy who had been reading the newspaper at the other side of the lobby looked up in shock. 'It's nothing like that...' she started 'Well, what the fuck is it like?' I asked, making a real effort to keep my voice under control. I may have lost my love, but I didn't want to lose my job. 'Have lunch with me when you finish, and I'll tell you.' My first reaction was to refuse vehemently. The way I felt, I should rather have lunched with Son of Sam, but then she looked at me and I saw tears starting to run from her big blue eyes. 'Sylvia,' she said, 'I wouldn't hurt you for the world. Just let me explain. Please.' The upshot was that I agreed to go out for lunch with her. So, still in my uniform, we sat opposite one another in a seafood restaurant close to the hotel, and I couldn't help thinking how very beautiful she was. She reached across the table for my hand, but I withdrew it quickly. 'So you saw me with Marisa?' she asked. 'You say you wouldn't hurt me. Well that did.' 'My poor dear – I had no idea you had seen me. I can imagine what you must have thought.' 'What the fuck was I supposed to think?' I still felt extremely prickly. 'Let me explain.' 'I think you'd better.' 'Marisa is my understudy at the club. She's just eighteen and she worships me. I told her the day you must have seen us that I am in a relationship, and she said that she would do anything, anything at all, to be near me, including becoming our slave.' 'Our slave?' 'Our slave, yours and mine. I brought her back here to meet you, but you weren't in.' 'I want to believe you, Didi,' I heard myself saying, 'but you must admit it sounds a bit far-fetched – and I've suffered so much.' 'I can only suggest you meet her, and see for yourself.' I finally agreed, not without a bit of scepticism, and Didi called Marisa on her mobile and asked her to come to the hotel in an hour. By the time we had eaten, I hadn't time to change, so I was in my severe maroon suit, Didi in a short pleated blue skirt and white silk blouse when we returned to await Marisa. To our surprise, she was already there, sitting demurely, legs crossed, in a leather armchair, wearing a white tennis dress and white sneakers. After Didi had introduced us, she suggested we all go up to her room. Once there, Didi and I on the sofa, the girl standing before us, I sized Marisa up. She was slight and elfishly pretty, with big brown eyes, and smooth, thick brown hair. She was nicely made-up, with perhaps too much eye shadow. Her fingernails were long and polished pink, and she wore no jewellery. I started, as I felt like the odd one out. 'Marisa, Didi tells me you would like to be our slave. Is that true?' 'Yes, Miss Sylvia, I should like that very much.' I looked at Didi, doubt registering on my face. 'How did you discover this? Does she realise what is entailed?' The blonde smiled back at me. 'I was asked to a double-act with her at the club a couple of weeks ago, with me acting the domina, and spanking her. She told me she loved it, and wanted me to spank her for real. I thought she was joking, but she started to insist, every time our paths crossed.' I turned to Marisa. 'And now you have met me. Have you changed your mind?' 'Oh no, Miss Sylvia.' 'And you understand what it means to be our slave?' 'Oh yes. I am ready to do anything you wish.' 'You can start by undressing,' said Didi. She unbuttoned the dress down the front, and slid it off her slender shoulders, then let it fall about her ankles, picked it up and folded it neatly across a chair. She stood in white lacy bra, matching panties and tennis shoes. As she reached behind her to unclip the bra, I said, 'If we decide we like you, then when you come to us, you will not wear bra or panties, and those shoes are right out. Didi looked at me in awe. 'You sound like you know about these things!' 'Have you read l'Image, by Jean de Berg?' She shook her head. 'I'll try to find you a copy. It's a fantasy about a couple who have a young girl as a slave.' I turned back to Marisa, who was standing naked, and inspected her. She was really quite beautiful, in a sort of Audrey Hepburn way, with small, pert breasts, a tiny waist, and a neat pussy, over which was a narrow strip of short curly hair. I pointed to it. 'That can come off. I want to see your body kept completely hairless – do you understand?' I seemed to be taking the initiative, and was actually enjoying it. 'When Miss Didi tells you that you may come to see us, you will wear no underwear, and you will always come in high heels. Now go, because we have things to discuss.' Thus dismissed, she made to step into her panties, but I whisked them away, together with the bra. 'You won't be needing these,' I said. She slipped on her white dress, shamefacedly slipped on the tennis shoes, and was gone. 'What do you think?' asked Didi. 'She's charming, and I owe you an apology for not trusting you.' 'I understand, darling,' she said, and pulled my head around so that she could kiss me. It tasted wonderful after the bitterness I had been feeling towards her. When I fondled her breasts through the silk of her blouse, she moaned softly, and ran a hand up a black stockinged leg, under my tight skirt. 'Wait,' I said, and, standing up, unzipped the skirt, and let it fall to the floor. I was left in garter belt and stockings - as usual, I wore no panties. Instantly, Didi started to finger my pussy, saying, 'I'm looking forward to enjoying our new slave. Are you?' 'I hadn't a clue that you had those sorts of inclinations.' Instead of replying, she buried her face in my pussy, as I knelt beside her on the sofa, and I felt her long tongue alternately teasing my decorated clit, and probing deep into the hot, wet depths of my cunt. I came almost immediately, a lovely, satisfying orgasm which took me by surprise. 'But what about you?' I asked Didi when I returned to the planet Earth. 'I owed you that, darling, ' she said, 'I need to keep my energy for working tonight.' She said she would tell Marisa to come and see us the next afternoon, when she saw her at the club that evening. Becoming excited at the prospect of that, I tol her I'd go a buy a few toys we may need. I'd spotted a sex shop near to the old town, and thought I'd take a look at their stock. The shop was as seedy as I expected, with several dubious-looking characters furtively scanning the lurid racks of DVD's and magazines, but I told the spiky-haired Goth girl behind the counter that I wanted to see a selection of toys, and she led me around the racks to a display of vibrators, dildos of every size, shape and colour you could imagine, and loads of other stuff. I quickly selected three dildos, one big and fat and double-ended, another a long, knobbly, clear acrylic one and the other a slim silver, torpedo-shaped one. I also picked out an inflatable anal dildo, and a string of balls the size of ping-pong balls. When I asked the girl if she had any S&M gear, she leaned close enough for me to smell a faint whiff of marijuana, and asked me to follow her, calling to a spotty youth who was now behind the counter to mind the store. Sylvia's Switch Ch. 07 As I followed her down a corridor lined with boxes of mags, she said, 'We can't put that stuff on display, you know.' She led me into a tiny storeroom, opened a cupboard, and showed me several whips and gags – standard BDSM stuff. I chose a riding crop, a singletail whip, a pair of handcuffs, and a set of five heavy leather restraints, one for the neck, two for wrists and two more for ankles – all buckled shut, and had a metal ring set into them. Adding a studded leash to the collection, I told her to parcel them all up. 'Looks like you're going to have fun,' she leered, 'can anyone come?' 'I'm afraid not,' I retorted, trying not to sound snotty. As a final touch, I put the lot on Susana's Gold Card, and was slightly relieved when the transaction went through. I resolved to cut her cards up after that. I had a nervous morning the next day. My love for Didi had somehow been vindicated, as if that were necessary, and was obviously reciprocated, but the thought of our sharing a slavegirl was so thrilling that I could hardly wait for four o'clock to come around – the time when we were to expect Marisa. I wondered if she might get cold feet, and not turn up. I went around to Didi's room, with the stuff I had bought, about a quarter of an hour before Marisa was due. I had put on one of my favourite outfits, a soft, silky dark blue pleated dress, mid-thigh length, which fell straight from gathered neckline to hem, so that as I walked around in it, with nothing on underneath, I felt completely naked. Even in that dress, I started when I saw Didi. She was wearing a black lace sheath, not unlike one of Susana's favourites. Through it, her naked body could be seen in every detail, and the contrast between her long blonde hair, and the black lace made her look breathtaking – and she was mine! 'Where did you get that gorgeous dress?' I asked her. 'I borrowed it – it's a prop from the club. Do you like it?' 'Oh Didi,' I replied, 'do we really need a slave?' 'Probably not, but it should be fun, shouldn't it?' I laid the toys out on the table, and, as I showed them to Didi, we couldn't keep our hands off each other, but we were interrupted when a timid knock sounded on the door. 'Come in,' called Didi, and we both sat down, Didi on the sofa, whilst I took a chair. In came Marisa, tentatively. She was wearing a short pink party dress, with a plunging neckline, so that all of the cleavage between her small tits was visible. She wore high heels, as instructed, but by no means high enough for my taste. Her eyes were heavily made-up, as they had been the day before. 'You look like what you are – a common slut!' said Didi, 'You have walked through the streets like that?' She nodded mutely. 'What, cat got your tongue? You will reply when spoken to.' 'Yes.' 'Yes, what?' Marisa looked from Didi to me and back again. 'You will address either of us as mistress, when no-one else is present,' I said, 'and what's more, we shall have to take you to buy some heels – they just won't do.' She was shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, so I stood and went to her. In front of her, I quickly lifted the hem of her dress. The 'landing strip' of the day before had gone, I spun her around, and ran my hand down between her buttocks, finding her clean and quite hairless. 'At least she's shaved,' I told Didi, 'there's just the matter of this awful dress, and the shoes.' 'Not forgetting that make-up – she looks like she's ready to go on stage – she should be punished,' said Didi. I looked at the girl's pretty face. She was wide-eyed with fear, and....and something else. 'You know you are to be whipped?' I said. 'Yes, mistress.' Her eyes were cast downwards as she replied. 'I thought we might adapt a scene from l'Image,' I told Didi, and Marisa looked from on to the other of us incomprehendingly. 'Undress!' I told her, and she had only to reach back and unfasten a clasp, and the dress fell in a pink pile around her feet, drawing my attention to her shoes. 'You can take those off too,' I said. When she was naked, I thought how charming she looked – so vulnerable and almost virginal, ready to be sacrificed on the altar of our lust. I cinched one end of the handcuffs onto a wrist, then told her to kneel in front of the chair, whereupon I looped the chain between the cuffs over the lower rail of the cair, and closed the other end onto her other wrist. Then I lifted a leg over her head and sat on the chair, legs wide apart. I raised the gossamer-like hem of my dress up to my waist. Seizing hold of a handful of her soft hair, I pulled her head up so that she was looking straight into my pussy, where she would, I knew, be fascinated by my dangling clit-decoration. 'Now take the crop to her back,' I told Didi, 'just a few strokes so that she gets the taste of it.' Didi took the riding crop from the table as I pulled Marisa's head in towards my pussy. 'Lick me, you slut!' I ordered, as Didi, gorgeously naked under her black lace, tried the crop's swing. As I felt the first tentative touch of the girl's damp tongue against my labia, Didi rained an equally tentative stroke down across Marisa's tender back-flesh, causing her to emit a tiny gasp. 'You can do better than that,' I said, and I might have been addressing either of them, because, as I felt Marisa's tongue driving into my now soaking cunt, Didi lashed her hard over the upper back, so that her thin body writhed convulsively, heightening my intense pleasure. I felt then that two more strokes were all I should need to cum, and I pulled my slave's head hard, hard into my pussy as Didi warmed to her task, and flogged her tender flesh twice more. I came, with a tremendous explosion of passion, and then found Didi stood beside me, the skirt of her sheath up around her waist. 'Oh, Sylvia, please!' I knew exactly what she wanted, and, leaving Marisa hooked up to the chair, I slipped off and knelt before my lovely friend as she sank to the sofa. I scarcely had time to plunge my tongue into her dripping cunt before she, too, had a mighty, shuddering orgasm. When we had inspected the young girl's wounds, and found them superficial – no more than pretty red stripes making a ladder pattern up her back - we all sat down to a much-needed coffee, and nobody watching could have known that Marisa was our slave, and Didi my lover, as we sat and talked about clothes and make-up, just like three friends would. In this mode, Marisa asked me why I didn't like her dress. 'It's not that I don't like it, darling,' I told her, 'it's just not appropriate for the moment. Tell you what, why don't we go and buy you some clothes?' Before we went out, Marisa wanted to pee, and while she was in the bathroom, Didi whispered, 'What are we going to use for money? I sure as hell don't have any.' I realised I was again going to hit Susana's credit cards. 'Don't worry, I've a credit card I can use.' She looked at me doubtfully, but said nothing. As we rode down in the lift, I said to Marisa, 'First thing, we've got to get you out of that dress. We'll head for a shop I know.' We went to a boutique where I had recently bought a dress, and soon had Marisa kitted out in a tiny pleated blue miniskirt and a white silk blouse. She carried her pink dress out in a bag, and kept looking at her reflection in shop windows, worried lest she was showing too much in the brief skirt. In another shop, I bought her another skirt, as well as a pretty sundress, and two more blouses, then we called at a lingerie shop, where I purchased for her a little satin garter belt, and a cruel, black, lace-up, whaleboned corset. At a shoeshop, I fixed her up with two pairs of very high, needle-heeled sandals, almost giving the elderly male assistant a heart attack in the process, and bought her some stockings too. As a final touch, we bought her a studded collar and a silver waist-chain, telling her she must wear them at all times, as a symbol of our ownership of her. When we then relaxed in a coffee bar, all our purchases piled up on a spare chair beside us, I took Marisa's slender hand in mine. 'I hope you are going to be happy with us, my dear,' I said. 'Oh yes,' she said, 'I'm happier than I've ever been in my life. I would never have believed what it did to me when.....when....' 'When you were whipped?' 'Yes,' she licked her lips, 'when I was whipped.' I reached for Didi's hand with my free one. For the first time since leaving Madrid, I realised that Susana was now in the past, and knew that I was going to be truly happy. Sylvia's Switch I felt as if I couldn't care less about Jason – I'd forgotten he existed – and we decided just to tell him that I'd missed the last bus, and the firm was putting me up in a hotel. Susana made the call, and I heard her using her most imperious tone with him. 'He made no objection,' she said, when she had rung off. 'He hardly could, with you playing the Countess,' I said. 'Oh, didn't I tell you,' she said, I am a Countess.' 'Not really?' 'Really! Now, let me find you a nightgown, darling, and then we should have a quiet drink before we turn in.' She went to the wardrobe and returned with a long silk gown over each arm, giving me the choice. I picked the blue one, she wore white, both luxurious French garments, lace-trimmed, with spaghetti straps. We brushed each others' hair while we had a liqueur, then climbed into bed, to lay between satin sheets, our bodies entwined in a night-long embrace. I awoke at some point during the night to find I had turned over and Susana was cupping my breast in her hand, gently kneading it as her regular breathing told me she was asleep. I had never felt so loved in my life. When next I woke it was morning. The sun streamed into the room, and a trolley stood by the bed. Susana sat in the armchair beside it, a silk robe over her gown, watching my consciousness return. For a moment I didn't know where I was, then it came flooding back, and I smiled at her. 'Breakfast!' she said, indicating the trolley. I was ravenous, and attacked the rolls and croissants. Susana watched me, and, when I had devoured a couple of rolls and was a little more tractable, she said, 'I need to talk to you, Sylvia, darling.' She had my attention. 'Just how good – or how bad – is your marriage?' she asked, 'if, of course, you don't mind me asking.' 'I don't mind at all. Before last night I would have said it was pretty bad. Now….' – I swallowed, and felt myself colouring up - 'now, I think it's beyond redemption.' 'Would you be prepared to leave your husband?' she asked, looking at me searchingly. 'Yes,' I replied, without hesitation, and meant it. The gentle love I had known the night before had carried with it a passion that required no penetration by a man's penis, and I somehow knew that it was no more than an introduction to pleasures I could only dream of. 'If you really mean that,' Susana was saying, 'I have a proposal to put to you.' 'Oh?' I sat up straight, breakfast suddenly forgotten. 'Come with me to Madrid. Be my assistant in the company, and live with me in my home.' 'Oh yes, Susana!' I agreed, without giving it a moment's thought. 'Not so fast!' she warned me. 'I shall make demands on you that perhaps you can't imagine, and, as I said to you last night, we may visit together places you have never even dreamed of. Did you understand what I meant by that?' 'I…I think so,' I stammered. She was still looking at me intensely, and her dark brown pools of eyes turned my knees to jelly. She took my hand in hers, turned it over, and kissed my palm, then said, 'Slip into one of my tee-shirts and a skirt – you should squeeze into them – then we'll run over to your house, while your husband's out. You can collect your passport, and a few things you don't want to leave behind. I'll get us on the afternoon flight.' 'But the boutique?' I queried. 'Covered,' she said, smiling conspiratorially, 'I talked to Maria, the second-in-command from Manchester, and she is coming down to open up this morning.' 'So you had this all planned!' I felt slightly piqued now, that she had schemed behind my back. 'Don't be angry, darling,' she said, 'I've wanted you ever since I first saw you, at your interview last year.' And I was starting to realise that the feeling was mutual. 'Come on,' she said, 'let's have a shower now, and then I'll help you shave.' No sooner had the cascade of warm water started to work its magic on my body than Susana joined me in the cubicle, moulding her lithe, slender form to mine, squirming around from in front of me to behind and back again, soaping my tits, then down across my flat belly, my mound, and down, down, between my legs, which seemed to prise apart of their own accord as her questing fingers probed around my puffy labia, sought my clit, already standing proud in anticipation. I bent down to suck at her lovely nipples, and she moaned her pleasure, pushing her mons against my hand as I explored her pussy. We kissed with abandon, and masturbated each other to slow, luxurious orgasms, as the jets of water prickled my skin. We dried each other, and took our time making up and dressing, interrupted only by a message from Reception to say that Marie had collected the key to the boutique which Susana had left for her. At about ten thirty, we took a taxi to the flat I had shared with my husband for the last two years. Entering, and inviting Susana over the threshold, I felt like a burglar. I crept about the flat, first making sure that Jason was well-and-truly out of the way. Susana wandered around the lounge, picking up photos – me as a teenager, our white wedding, Jason's football team, ordinary stuff – while I turfed out drawers looking for papers I should need. Nothing had ever felt more odd, but I can't say it felt wrong, or that I had any pangs of conscience about what I was about to do. I found my almost-new passport – I had taken out a new one last year for a ski-trip to Switzerland – as well as my cheque book, credit-cards, birth certificate, and any other important papers I could think of. I also collected my address-book, a few family photos and some bits of jewellery my mother had given me, and then, after shovelling them into a grip, I went back into the lounge and asked Susana what clothes I should wear. 'Just a cotton dress or something,' she said, 'and don't bring anything much. We'll kit you out when we get there, and we can't carry too much.' I liked the sound of that, and in the end, just brought my make-up, toiletries and a spare pair of panties. I debated leaving Jason a note, then thought better of it – I'd ring him some time, the bastardd didn't deserve an explanation. 'Come on,' said Susana, mysteriously, 'let's get back to the hotel, there's something I want to do before lunch.' Once we were back in her suite, and I had dumped my pitifully small belongings just inside the door, she turned to me, and taking me by the hand, led me gently to the bathroom. 'Now let's have your dress off, darling,' she said, and obediently, I crossed my hands, and lifted the hem up and over my head. 'Now the panties, and sit on the edge of the toilet seat!' Meanwhile, she was running warm water into the bidet alongside, and had produced a large can of shaving foam from the bathroom cabinet. When I had done her bidding, she lathered my luxuriant, but well-trimmed bush thoroughly. I had always kept it trimmed so as to be invisible in my bikinis, so there was no need to clip any long hair away first. She took a plastic razor and started carefully to shave away every vestige of hair from my mound. She kept looking up at me from time to time, but would then revert to total concentration, and take enormous care not to nick me with the razor. As she worked, she wiped away excess foam, and lingered a moment around the start of my crack, making me feel the start of a sensation of warmth creep into the nether regions of my vagina. She tenderly pulled aside my labia, stroking away the small hairs that grew beside my outer pussy-lips, then had me sit further forward, so that she could gain access to the incredibly sensitive area between my cunt and my arsehole, where she shaved off a few tiny hairs. She took care to clear up any hairs that grew around the tiny puckered hole of my anus, and, as she did this, looked deeply into my eyes as she poked just the tip of her long-nailed forefinger into my anus. My eyes widened as I cried out in surprise, and then she kissed me, her tongue darting between my teeth like a snake's. She levered herself off me then, and said, 'Now, Sylvia darling, leave your panties off, put your dress back on, and walk about the suite for a few moments. Tell me what it feels like!' I did as she told me. It felt very strange. I had never felt more vulnerable, more naked, in my life, and yet I knew I was decently covered by the knee-length cotton dress. 'It feels…..funny,' was the best I could manage. 'I'd like you to go about like that from now on, to remind you that you are mine,' she said, mildly. 'You mean, out in the street, as well?' 'It's nice and warm in Madrid at this time of year,' she smiled, and the conversation was closed. I just wondered briefly if I was going to be as much a 'possession' of Susana as I had been of Jason, then decided I liked the idea much better, anyway! 'What are you laughing about?' she asked me, a bit later. 'Was I?' I asked, 'I really didn't realise. It's because I'm so happy!' The dreary Iberia flight to Madrid arrived half an hour late, and we emerged from Barajas airport into a warm, sultry evening to join a short queue for a taxi. I was still feeling very self-conscious, now standing there in the open air, the breeze from passing traffic wafting up my thin cotton skirt, around my naked, shaven pubes. I had to confess I liked the feeling, and glanced more than once at Susana's proud profile, thinking how lucky I was. The taxi-ride was a frantic one, through teeming traffic, for more than half an hour, but we were deposited in a leafy suburb I later found was called 'El Moralejo,' outside a long, low chalet with an entry-phone system on the gate. I expected Susana to take out a key, but she simply pressed a buzzer, and the gate opened. As we struggled through with our luggage, a girl in a short black mini-dress and frilly white apron came scurrying down a crazy-paved path from the house to help us. 'Buenas tardes, Señora la Contesa,,' she said. 'Hola, Adela,' said Susana, and proceeded to introduce the maid, who appeared to speak little or no English, to me, as the girl curtsied respectfully, then took Susana's suitcase up the path to the house. She was dark and vivacious, in her early twenties, I thought. The house was the last word in luxury, and Susana had Adela show me to my room, which looked out over lawns and a fishpond – a far cry, I thought, from the flat I had left behind. I had no sooner arranged my pathetic few toiletries and make-up in the en-suite bathroom than a knock sounded at the door. 'Come in!' I called, in a small voice. It was Susana, already changed out of the business suit she had travelled in, and wearing a short cream silk robe and furry mules. 'Welcome to my home, darling,' she said. 'Oh, I'm so happy to be here,' I said, 'I just hope I won't disappoint you!' 'If you are prepared to learn, and give yourself up to the pleasures I can teach you, you won't disappoint either of us,' she said, 'come and have something to eat now, then you must rest. Tomorrow, we'll go and buy you some things you need, and we can start your – what shall we call it? – readjustment? – Yes, that's right, readjustment.' She smiled, and patted my bum as I walked with her to the dining room, where a silent Adela was already laying out food. I wasn't exactly frightened, but a touch concerned, I suppose, at the newness of it all, the suddenness with which I had let myself be persuaded to quit my humdrum married life. Susana saw all this going through my mind, I thought, and didn't want to rush me. She stroked my thigh under the table as we ate, and, before I went up to bed, kissed me, a long, passionate kiss I savoured as I slipped into the short silk nightgown Adela had laid out for me, and slotted myself between satin sheets. I fell asleep in seconds. It took me time to decide where I was when I awoke. It was already warm, sun reflecting from the fishpond when I looked out of the window, and there were sounds of movement elsewhere in the house. Gathering my hair under a shower-cap, I had a quick shower, and slipped on a towelling robe I found behind the bathroom door. '¿Desayuno?' asked Adela, when I found her in the dining room. I remembered that that meant breakfast, and nodded emphatically. She signalled for me to sit down, and I was soon presented with a tray of rolls, doughnuts, a pot of coffee and a glass of orange juice. I ate alone, and had just finished when Susana appeared, looking a million dollars, in an Armani suit and heels. 'Good morning, darling,' she said, 'I breakfasted earlier. I've put some clothes out for you. We leave in half an hour, and I'll explain some things on the way. OK?' I nodded agreement, a bit overwhelmed, and went to my room, to find a fine grey shot-silk suit, and a white blouse laid out on the bed. There was also a blue satin garter belt and a pair of shiny silvery stockings. Beside the bed stood a pair of elegant sandals with four-inch heels. There was, of course, no sign of panties, and no bra. When I put the suit on, I was somehow not surprised to find that it was a perfect fit, with a skirt which moulded my buttocks and, due to its extreme tightness about my knees, coupled with the height of my heels, rendered my walk very sexy, I thought. My unfettered breasts jiggled nicely under the blouse, but with the jacket on, I would pass for a successful young businesswoman anywhere. Susana called me down, and I got my next shock. She had a uniformed chauffeuse waiting for us in the doorway, a small lady, dark-skinned, probably South Amercican, whom she addressed as Lola. We were whisked off efficiently in a huge Mercedes, into the commercial hub of Madrid. On the way, Susana explained to me that she had three stores in Madrid, which was where her empire had started, with money her late father had left her, and she wanted me to help her expand and control the international side of the business, when I had learned all about it from her. She said she knew I could cope with it. I must have looked nervous at that, because she squeezed my knee, and said, 'Don't worry, I'll make sure you know everything before I turn you loose, darling!' As we approached the first of her stores, and turned into a multi-storey carpark, she said, 'First thing, at this store, is that we get you kitted out. It's my first store and my biggest, so we should find you everything here.' She introduced me to Eva, the manageress, and her two young assistants, Conchi and Ana, all of whom were dazzlingly pretty, and we chatted for a while in a friendly way, then Susana waved me through into a palatial fitting room, where I was surrounded by racks of clothes. She sent Lola out to buy two of the biggest suitcases she could find, and we set about providing me with an entire wardrobe. 'There are a few items we need to buy for you that my stores don't stock,' said Susana, 'but all the clothes you need, we should find here.' And she did. My mind was in a whirl, as I tried on things I never dreamed I would ever wear. Minute flared silk miniskirts, transparent tops, fantastic evening gowns in shimmering gold and silver lamé, long skirts so tight I felt shackled, backless dresses open right down to the crease of my buttocks, dresses with décolleté so deep that my navel was visible, even a dress clasped at the sides so that my lack of panties would be completely obvious. Susana at length pronounced herself satisfied, and we set off for the next port of call. We stopped in a street full of posh boutiques, parking illegally – though not alone in doing so – outside a lingerie shop. 'I thought you didn't approve………' I started. 'Ah,' was all she said, and we were greeted by an obviously gay man, who kissed us both in a cloud of perfume, then stood aside as we walked through into a fitting room, where a slightly overweight middle-aged woman said, in English, for my benefit, 'Don't mind Pedro, he's part of the furniture!' Susana explained in rapid Spanish what she wanted, and the woman disappeared for about ten minutes, leaving us in awkward silence, sitting on overstuffed sofas. When she returned, she was wheeling a small trolley, and, without a word, started to lay out the goods on a table, for Susana's inspection. Susana beckoned me to join her. There were three garter belts like the one I was wearing, and various pairs of stockings to go with them. She had brought two bras, both of which were no more than platforms, and Susana told me to try them on. I was at first a bit diffident, taking off my jacket and blouse in front of the other woman, but did so, and when I put on the first black bra, my breasts were pushed up on top of it, the nipples thrusting forward prettily. 'Nice!' commented my boss. The next two items were corsets, one black, one white, and I could see that, although their material was shiny satin, they contained stiff whalebones. 'But I don't need a corset – yet!' I protested. 'I want you to wear these for me sometimes,' said Susana, 'try one on, they're both the same size.' I wriggled out of my skirt, now all too aware of my shaven nakedness, and was stood there in garter belt and stockings. 'Garter belt too,' darling,' reminded Susana, and I unclipped my stockings and stepped out of it. She offered the white corset up to my body, and it felt very tight when she buttoned it up the front, constricting my already narrow waist considerably, and thrusting my buttocks out behind and my tits out above, as it ended as a platform bra. 'How is that for fit?' asked the woman. 'Tight!' I replied. But Susana, behind me, had hold of the cords which laced up the fearful Victorian garment, and pulled on them as hard as she could, making me gasp and moan with the agony, as my body was forced to accept the restraint. Surreptitiously, Susana ran her hand through my slit while the older woman was arranging the next item. 'Hmmm,' she murmured. I was wet. 'Connect up your stockings, you can leave the corset on for now,' she said, tying off the cords, 'and get dressed – you don't need to try anything else on.' I put the blouse and suit back on, now acutely aware of the corset's savage restraint, not sure whether I liked it or not. Exciting, it certainly was, but I couldn't say why' and when I was back in the tightness of the skirt and the high heels, I wondered at myself. What, exactly, was happening to me? The rest of the lingerie Susana bought for me consisted of nightgowns and negligees, all in sheer silk, with lace trim, two fishnet catsuits, and a pair of transparent harem pyjamas, the legs of which appeared to be disconnected, so that they were completely open at the crotch. As we left the shop, she said, 'I hope you're not too uncomfortable, darling. I find it exciting thinking about you in that corset. We've finished now. Everything else you need, I have at home. Let's go have some lunch, and then we'll go home.' Over a light lunch, I confided in Susana. 'Being dressed like this does something for me. Something I don't understand – I feel……aroused, all the time. Am I strange?' 'No darling, you're feeling what I've seen in you – your innate eroticism. And this is just the start, trust me.' Spanish hours gave us a break of three or four hours after lunch, before Susana wanted to show me her other two stores in the city, so Lola delivered us home for our siesta. 'Come up to bed with me, darling,' said Susana, as soon as we were in the cool of the house. I excused myself to go to the toilet, and left my suit hanging behind the door. By the time I got to Susana's room, she was sat on her bed, wearing only a short silk slip and hold-ups, which was, I thought the only underwear she had worn all morning. I stood at the foot of her bed in just my white satin corset and stockings. Sylvia's Switch 'Come here, darling,' she said, 'don't tease me!' I walked around, as close to her as I could get, and she reached out a hand, stroking my inner thigh, just touching the very edge of my pussy-lip. Taking her hand away, she patted the bed beside her, and I climbed on. As I did so, she reached over to the other side of the bed, and opened the drawer of her bedside cabinet. She took out a long, long, flexible pink dildo, of a type I had never seen before, even in the videos I had caught Jason watching. Susana was gently working the end of the dildo, a realistic-looking cock, into her moist cunt, and I wanted to help. I took a grip on the shaft, thinking briefly that it really did feel like a prick, and pushed it hard into her lovely vagina, bringing moans and gasps from her as she took it right within her. Then I realised that it was, in fact, a double-ended dildo, and, taking the cue, threw my leg over her, and wriggled into position. When Susana helped me insert the tip of my end of the dildo into my eager cunt, I closed my eyes, and moaned with pleasure at the sheer hedonistic joy of feeling her smooth flesh against mine as I was penetrated by what felt just like a real cock. We thrust hard against each other, until we had the real sensation of fucking and being fucked, heightened when she began to finger my clit, and I returned the complement. Susana whispered to me all the time she was playing with my clit, helping the in-and-out motion of the dildo for both of us with her other hand, whispered of her passion, of how much she wanted me, and she knew she was driving me to a huge orgasm. There was no holding back, and it came over me in a tidal wave, causing me to shudder and stiffen – almost to black out. When I came down, I was cradled in Susana's arms, feeling terribly guilty. 'I just had a great orgasm,' I said. 'I know, darling.' 'But you haven't cum!' I was concerned. 'I did, though,' she said, smiling, 'twice! I multiply, you know, and it's not always obvious.'