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Mistaken Identity Ch. 01

By: MissLisaJones



 As ever, my gratitude goes out to Estragon for his work as my editor. 


"And if you could just sign here, here, here and...here," Sarah Bolton, owner and Managing Director of Executive Fantasies, handed the form to Jennifer Harris, her latest client, pointing to the crosses which indicated the places where her signature was required. She also passed across her Mont Blanc fountain pen; nothing but the best from ExF.

Jennifer skimmed through the pages, confirming that the contract was exactly the same as the one she had had thoroughly checked out earlier. She hadn't made her way to the top without carefully reading the small print; and this contract, albeit a very private one, was not going to escape her usual scrutiny. Flicking through the pages, she thought about how she had ended up here, purchasing, at great expense, this weekend of escape.

In the decade or so since she had left collage she had been successful, successful beyond her, and everyone else's, expectations. She'd spotted a gap in the market and, with ruthless efficiency, had built up her business until her turnover was measured in eight figures. However, this success had come at a cost, a very personal cost, and amongst all the business, she never had time for relationships. Sure, she'd had one or two flings along the way, but she'd never had time to let any of them get close, close enough to divulge her real desires.

And it was these real desires that she was going to indulge now. Probably it was because she was such a control freak, because she insisted that, in every part of her business life, she was the one in control, that her fantasies were just the opposite. During the working day she was constantly in demand by those looking for her to take charge, to make the decisions, to lead the pack. As a stark contrast, in her rare moments of relaxation, she had come to dream of having someone else take control and make the decisions; she would be the led, not the leader. She would weave complex stories where she was subject to every whim and caprice of some dominant figure at whose feet she would grovel. As the years rolled by these fantasies had become more intense, more involved and her desire to act them out had become stronger and stronger. Naturally this was not a thing she could share easily. She had quite a high public profile and was hardly going to endanger her position by being indiscreet with any of her rare one-night stands.

And then Julie, a friend she'd met at a marketing conference, had, after one or two too many cocktails together, told her about 'Executive Fantasies' or 'ExF' as they preferred to be known. Julie had explained that ExF was an organisation for people who wanted, and could afford, an outlet to explore the extremes of their sexuality, to travel far outside the conventional norm, and to do so without risking shame or exposure. Julie hadn't asked too closely about Jennifer's kinks anymore than Jennifer had asked about Julie's, but there was an understanding that here was an organization that was discreet, professional, and, above all, understanding. The very next day Jennifer was on the phone to them.

It had taken a while before she had cleared the vetting procedure. ExF were very fussy about their clients and were judicious about who they would deal with. Without a personal recommendation she wouldn't have got past the front door and, even then, she was thoroughly checked out to make sure she was who she said she was. Jennifer was reassured by this; after all they weren't the only ones to have made unobtrusive enquiries.

Once the vetting process was over, she was invited to come in for an interview. This was when Jennifer had first met Sarah, who insisted on negotiating with new clients in person. For Sarah it was a chance to meet the client before the last few veils of secrecy were lifted. As for the clients, well, she knew how hard it could be for some to talk about exactly what they wanted and they appreciated the personal touch. Before the meeting Jennifer had been given a questionnaire, a list of activities, each of which she had to grade from one to five where one was 'never under any circumstances' and five was 'yes please'. The list was detailed and wide-ranging which meant that, even before they started, Sarah had a pretty good idea about what Jennifer wanted. This helped to break the ice and enabled Jennifer to be matter-of-fact as she described in some detail her dream of being kidnapped and then sold at auction as a sex slave. Sarah even pulled her up at one point, advising against being too prescriptive and suggesting that her clients often found the element of surprise helped 'spice up' the experience.

Once Sarah had gathered all the details she asked for time to put together a suitable package. She explained that a scenario as involved as the one Jennifer had described wouldn't be cheap; the auction alone required quite a few in the 'cast', and each of them would want to be paid. They agreed to meet a week later, by which time all would be ready.

Now, at the second interview, they went through the contract, dotting the 'i's and crossing the 't's. Jennifer had had time to check out all details, scrutinising all the get-outs and non-liability clauses. She had been impressed by the thorough and businesslike way it had been put together and, although she had blanched a bit when she saw the grand total, she understood that quality comes at a price.

"And here's your new identity," Sarah said as she passed over a purse which had a full set of credit cards, store cards and driving licence, all in the name of Susan Brown. Jennifer flicked through them. They looked very convincing, although she wouldn't dream of actually using any of them. Sarah had explained that, while there had to be some who were aware of her true identity, it was safest all round if this was kept to the minimum possible and, to ensure that even the cast were unaware of her true identity, the actual abduction would be done under a fake name. 

"It's just in case, heaven forbid, one of the cast were to go rogue," Sarah explained. "Both parties need to reduce the risk of exposure to a minimum. Of course, when our cast are recruited they're heavily vetted but you can never be one hundred percent sure and, this way, were one of them to go to the press, you would be just another anonymous woman. Were anyone to try to trace you by using these they would hit a dead end, a false name at a false address. Funnily enough, some of our customers actually find it helpful. They find that becoming their fake identity enhances the fantasy of it all.

"OK. Just one final recap," Sarah said as she wound up the interview. "You, or rather, Susan Brown, are to be on the corner of the High St and Station Road at six thirty on Friday. You'll wear a light coloured coat and carry a copy of the local newspaper tucked under your left arm. Oh, and that Gucci umbrella of yours," Sarah pointed to the folded umbrella next to Jennifer's handbag, "carry that as well. Our operatives will 'capture' you and 'sell you into slavery' until, forty-eight hours later, on Sunday evening, when you'll be 'freed'. Your safe word is 'raspberry' and your go-slow word is 'strawberry'. If you're gagged the equivalent hand signals are...."

Jennifer watched as, once again, Sarah demonstrated the hand signals. They had been through this a few times already; Sarah had explaining the difference between a safe word, which would bring all activities to an immediate halt and the 'go-slow' word which meant that she was reaching her limits but didn't want to stop. Jennifer was already quite excited. Two whole days! Maybe it was expensive but Sarah's professionalism had convinced her that it would be money well spent; she would finally get to play out for real what had, so far, only been flights of her imagination.

Come Friday she was a bundle of nerves and had problems concentrating at work. Her PA was surprised that, by five thirty, she was clearing her desk and getting ready to go; Jennifer seldom finished before seven and Fridays were usually no exception. What surprised her more, however, was that, when Jennifer left she didn't take her car but set off on foot, wearing a light coloured coat, carrying her Gucci umbrella and a copy of today's local paper.

And that's where it all went wrong. Jennifer was half way across the pedestrian crossing on Station Rd when a car came round the corner far too fast, skidded on the damp tarmac, lost control and clipped Jennifer neatly on the hip, throwing her to the ground. Her head hit a kerbstone and she went out like a light.

******

Sue Brown looked at the clock on the wall, willing the hands to move. Aged twenty-eight and working as an insurance clerk in a well-known multinational, she was looking forward to the weekend. As far as she was concerned, Friday night was clubbing night. There was a new nightclub playing the latest sounds and she was looking forward to meeting her mates there. She had even bought a new dress from Next. With its spaghetti straps and short hem it was, well, daring but that's just the look she wanted on the dance floor. She had worked late during the week, saving up her flexi hours so that, come Friday, she was off home on the dot of three-thirty. Come the magic hour she left the office, raced back to her flat, grabbed a quick bite to eat, showered and changed so that, by six o'clock, she was ready to head on out. She was slightly against the clock. Her friend Andrea had said that, if she were on the corner of High St and Station Rd by six thirty, prompt, she could get a lift downtown, which would save on the cost and discomfort of going by bus. 

With the time to go fast approaching Sue glanced out of the window. A light drizzle was falling and it was not really a night to go out wearing such flimsy clothes. Once she was in Andrea's car she would be fine but bare shoulders were hardly the thing, waiting on the corner of the High St. She'd have to cover up. She got out her beige mackintosh and, needing something to protect her hairdo, she accompanied it with her umbrella. It was a Gucci knock-off from the market, but she felt it was quite a good one and you had to look quite closely to spot the difference. Now she could stay warm and dry until she got in the car. Not that she'd go out clubbing in a mac and brolly; she would leave them in the car while they hit the dance floor. There was just one last thing before she left. On her way home she had picked up a copy of the local paper and Andrea's amateur drama group had got a really good write-up. She was sure Andrea would want to see the review so, unable to fit the newspaper into her diminutive handbag, she tucked it under her left arm.

It was already dark by the time she left and the street lighting on the corner of the High St and Station Rd was none too good. Sue, who had arrived early, perched on the edge of the kerb, making sure Andrea wouldn't miss her. She was slightly distracted by an accident further up Station Rd; some poor woman had been run down on the zebra crossing. Walking in London was getting more and more dangerous. Fortunately the ambulance was there in less than five minutes and it appeared that the woman wasn't too badly hurt.

She was still watching the woman being put in the ambulance when her view was blocked by a nondescript white van, which drew up at the kerb next to her. The side door slid open and she saw a figure half hidden in the shadowy interior of the back of the van.

"Susan Brown?" the figure asked.

"Err... yes but...." She leant towards the van to see what was up. How did this man know who she was? As she did so she saw that it was not one but two figures, crouched inside the body of the van and each was wearing some sort of Halloween mask. Before she had time to react, they grabbed her and pulled her inside. The door was slammed shut, one of her captors banged on the partition and they were off. Fortunately the inside of the van was well padded as they were quite rough with her, throwing her to the floor, grappling with her arms and pulling them behind her back. Her coat was pulled from her shoulders, losing several buttons in the process and, as her arms emerged from the sleeves, she felt something hard circling her wrists and realised that she'd been handcuffed. She was screaming as loud as she could but one of her assailants clamped his hand over her mouth so her attempts were muffled. Then she tried to bite him but he was wearing gloves and her joy at making him withdraw his hand was short lived when a piece of duct tape was slapped across her mouth. They finished off by putting more tape around her ankles so that she lay, mute and hog-tied in the centre of the van's padded floor. Her dress, which was not that long in the first place, had ridden up to around her waist but she was unable to do anything about it; modesty had gone the same way as dignity. Now that she was secured, her captors switched on the light and sat back, bracing themselves against the rolling of the van as it made its way through the London streets.

"She's not too much like her photo," one of her captors commented as he looked at a clipboard.

"Here, pass it over," the other said and he too scrutinised the photo, presumably attached to the board.

"I dunno," he continued. "It's pretty close. Young, Caucasian, shoulder length brown hair. It's a bit darker in the picture but these women are always messing with their hair colour. You should have seen my last girlfriend. Blonde one week, brunette the next. Anyway, I'll do the standard checks."

He found her handbag where it had fallen and rummaged inside, finding her purse and, within it, her credit cards and driving license, which he checked thoroughly.

"Hmm... She's Susan Brown, all right. She was waiting at the pick up point wearing a light coloured coat, Gucci umbrella and carrying the local paper under her left arm. This must be the client. I mean, what are the odds?" He looked again at the clipboard. "The photo is pretty close. I mean, you ought to see my passport photo; I'm surprised they let me in to Alicante last summer."

"But that brolly's never a Gucci," the other captor protested. "I can see from here it's a knock off from one of those market stalls."

"Knock off, or real thing, it's got that double G logo on it, that's close enough for me, OK? You can't expect perfection every time. Right then, sweetheart," he turned his attention to Sue, "we've got a long way to go so you just lie there quietly. We're under strict instructions to deliver you safely and that's what we're going to do. There's nothing you can do to stop us so it would be best for all if you just lie back and enjoy the ride. Nod if you understand."

Sue rolled over and tried to lash out with her legs. However she couldn't get a purchase and she was simply brushed away. Her captor smiled nastily and pushed himself forward so that he was lying on top of her, his masked face just behind her head. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head up off the floor of the van. His other hand reached down and was grappling between her thighs, reaching for her tights and panties and pushing them down.

"Listen, cunt, I'm paid to deliver you safely and in one piece but no one is too fussy about what happens along the way. Are you going to start behaving or am I going to have to make you?" He groped between her thighs and she felt his coarse fingers on her sex. "Nasty or nice, your choice. Now, are you going to behave?"

Nodding was hard with her head held by the hair but Sue managed it. Maybe she'd live to fight another day.

"Good girl." For all his threatened rape, her captor seemed more interested in her acquiescence than actually attacking her. That said, he didn't pull her panties back up as rolled off her. Then, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, he returned to sitting against the wall of the van, pulled out a newspaper and started discussing with his mate the line up for the Spurs Arsenal derby due the next day. Meanwhile Sue just lay there. Curiously, her main wish was that she could pull her panties back up. They hadn't been pushed much beyond the top of her thighs but that was more than enough to highlight how vulnerable she was. Feeling exposed, uncomfortable and scared out of her wits, she wondered what was in store for her as the van drove off through the night.

After what seemed like hours Sue felt the van pull off the motorway. From the time they had taken she guessed they were well outside London and, from the way the van twisted and turned, she guessed countryside rather than town. Then the van stopped, she heard some muffled sounds from the front, the van started again, drove forward for a while, then reversed and then, finally drew to a halt. The back door to the van was opened and Sue looked out to see that they were in some sort or warehouse. However, she didn't have time for rumination. The door had been opened by a woman who wore a white lab coat and who wore a mask similar to the one her captors wore. Her captors jumped out of the van and gave the clipboard to the woman along with Sue's handbag. As she compared Sue's credit cards and driving licence with the notes on the clipboard, she checked the details of the kidnapping with Sue's captors.

"OK, this all checks out," she said at last. "Take her to processing, will you?" 

Her captors reached back into the van and, grabbing her by the arms, dragged her out. With her ankles bound she was unable to walk so she was slung over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried off, down a corridor and into room, which was coldly utilitarian and functional. A long table covered in unidentifiable bits and pieces ran down one side and, next to it, was a full length mirror. In the centre of the room was an upright metal frame about the size of a door. Wrist and ankle cuffs hung on short lengths of chain from each corner of this frame and the whole thing was fixed to a low dolly on which it could be wheeled around. Sue was lowered from the shoulder, which had carried her and lifted up into the frame and, whilst one of her captors held her upright the other looked in his pockets for the keys to the padlock holding her wrists.

Sue was hoping that she could put up some sort of a struggle when her wrists were freed but she hadn't allowed for the length of time she had been handcuffed. Her arms were numb and lifeless and, before she regained any sort of control, her wrists had been lifted up and fastened to the cuffs. Now that she was able to support herself the tape around her ankles was removed and it was no time before they too were cuffed and Sue was left spread-eagled within the frame. Once this was done the frame was turned on its dolly so that Sue was facing away from the table and into the room.

"Thanks, lads, I'll take it from here," the woman from the van said. She had followed them in and, now that Sue was firmly in place, her captors could leave and she came round in front of Sue and looked her up and down. Satisfied that all was well she disappeared from view, returning a moment later minus the mask and clipboard but holding a curious collar arrangement which she proceeded to fasten around Sue's neck.

"This is an electric shock collar. They're sold as training aids for dogs," the woman started to explain as she tightened the straps so that it fitted snugly against her neck. "There is some debate amongst dog owners as to their effectiveness and some feel that they should be banned for being excessively cruel. That's as may be, we don't use them on dogs, we use them on slaves such as yourself. You look confused, so let me explain. While you're here under our control we demand, and will enforce, total and absolute obedience. Of course we expect a certain amount of resistance, and some slave owners even prefer our more, shall we say, feisty offerings. They find it so much more satisfying when the will is finally broken. We, on the other hand, are only interested in selling you and don't have time for all that so, to make life easy, we use the collars. You will obey because, if you don't, you will receive short sharp shock. Like this."


Mistaken Identity Ch. 01



The woman pressed a button on a remote control and, immediately, the side of Sue's neck erupted with pain as the electric shock coursed through it.

"Now that," the woman continued calmly, "was only a small sample of what the collar can provide. I had it on a relatively low setting so there's plenty more in reserve." The woman turned the remote so that Sue could see that the dial pointed to about quarter power. "If you force me to use it again then the next time it will be on a higher setting and after that, a higher one still. If you want to fight it, if you want to find out just how much you can stand, then be my guest. I can assure you that you will break long before we reach full power. Do I make myself completely clear?" 

Sue nodded.

"Very well. The first rule you are going to learn is that slaves stay silent at all times and only speak in answer to a direct question. I'm going to remove the tape covering your mouth but if I hear one squeak out of you then I press the button." Again the woman held up the remote so that Sue could see that her thumb was poised over a big red button. "OK?"

Sue nodded again and the woman reached up, took hold of a corner of the tape covering Sue's mouth and, with a sudden yank, pulled it away. Sue couldn't help but give a a little cry, partially of pain and partially of surprise. The woman had obviously anticipated this because, as soon as Sue did so, a vicious jolt of electricity coursed from the collar. This, in turn, caused Sue to cry out again which resulted in yet another shock. It was only by using the utmost willpower that Sue was, this time, able to clamp her lips shut and hold back the cry that threatened to burst from her.

As Sue hung from the manacles shaking with repressed emotions, the woman could not have been less perturbed. She went to the table behind Sue and returned with a heavy-duty pair of scissors, which she used to cut the shoulder straps of Sue's dress. Immediately it started to fall and, as it did so, the woman didn't bother with the zipper but grabbed it and gave a sharp tug, ripping the flimsy material. A couple of snips with the scissors was all that was needed before the remnants of the dress were being tossed into a waste bin.

"Hey, that cost sixty quid from Next!" Sue screamed internally but, wisely, didn't say out loud. But it wasn't just prudence that kept her mouth shut. She was beginning to process what the woman had said. She had talked about 'slaves' and 'owners' and about breaking her will. If her fears about what was in store for her were anything like true then it looked like the fate of her dress was going to be the last thing on her mind. The woman now turned her attention to Sue's underwear. The thin lacy material of her bra and panties was no match for the scissors and, although her sheer nylon tights needed more cutting, they too were soon in shreds. The only thing that gave the woman the slightest bother was getting the last remnants of the tights through the cuffs which held her ankles but even that didn't hold her up for long and pretty soon Sue was completely naked.

Well, not quite naked; the final touch was when the woman removed Sue's jewellery, taking out her earrings and pulling the rings from her fingers. Somehow this made Sue feel even more naked than losing her clothes.

The woman then returned with her clipboard and proceeded to check and measure Sue from head to foot. It seemed as if every inch of her was inspected, measured, noted. She stood behind Sue and reached round, cupping each breast in her hand, feeling their heft and massaging them with her fingers to gauge their firmness. Then the massaging became more directed. As the woman's fingers gently teased the buds of Sue's nipples they responded, standing out firm and proud. When the woman finished by giving them a hard pinch, Sue had to fight to suppress a little cry that wasn't entirely brought on by pain.

After making a few more notes on the clipboard the woman came round, found a stool and sat down in front of Sue. The woman remained dispassionate as she reached forward and inspected Sue's groin, inside and out. After running her fingers through Sue's neatly trimmed pubic hair she peeled back her labia, giving them the same thorough inspection. Using the tip of her finger the woman gently probed the folds of flesh, stroking the inner lips and the hood of the clitoris and, as with her breasts, Sue could feel her body responding. When the woman then probed at Sue's entrance, slipping her fingers inside as far as the first knuckle. Sue was disturbed to find how easily they went in. The woman then removed her fingers, which were now slick from Sue's juices, and rubbed the tips of her fingers around the area surrounding Sue's clitoris, watching it respond. Sue felt a pang of guilt that she was actually disappointed when this stopped. The woman then stood up and returned to the table behind Sue.

When Sue heard the snap of surgical rubber gloves, she didn't need to see the lubricant being applied to the woman's forefinger to know which part of her body was next for inspection. Her buttocks were spread and the woman probed at her sphincter until she broke through, sliding her finger deep inside Sue's anus. The woman's finger was slim and she had used plenty of lubricant so, as with when the woman had fondled Sue's breasts and played with her vagina, despite the almost mechanical way she was being handled, Sue was finding that her body was responding. 

Although she had never actually indulged, Sue had always thought that there was something deliciously dirty about anal sex and, now, whether she liked it or not, this was what was happening to her. This, added to the emotionless way in which the woman was working, was a powerful stimulant and Sue even ended up pushing backwards a little. This just earned her a swift smack on her buttock and Sue felt it prudent not to repeat this in case the woman reached for the shock collar controller. 

But that just added to the tumult of fear and confusion roiling inside Sue. She knew this was wrong, very wrong; she knew she ought to be terrified, indeed, she was terrified; but why then was she also getting so aroused? She ought to be fighting, resisting this abuse, but she found herself acquiescing, welcoming the intruder into her backside, and it wasn't just for fear of the collar. 

After a while the woman finished probing and removed her finger but a few moments later, Sue felt something else pressing against her sphincter and, this time, it wasn't a finger. It was something hard, some mechanical and somewhat thicker than the finger had been. Then there was a pumping sound and whatever it was that was in her bottom started to expand further, growing wider and wider inside her. Sue was close to the limit of what she could stand when the woman stopped. She tugged at whatever was in Sue's anus, confirming that it was not going to come out easily. Then there was a certain amount of tugging and sloshing noises from behind Sue's back until....

As the water from the enema flowed into Sue's bowels she immediately felt full and cramped. After giving only the shortest while for things to settle down the woman hung the enema bag from the frame next to Sue's head. If she looked to her right she could see the fluid level dropping and gauge how much more she was going to have to take. She was close to crying out, begging for mercy, taking a risk on the shock collar, simply to tell the woman that she couldn't take any more when she heard the snap of the surgical gloves being removed and the sound of footsteps retreating. She looked to her right just in time to watch the woman head for the door and, when it closed behind her, she realised she was now alone.

Sue flexed the muscles of her buttocks, struggling to find a comfortable position but, however much she moved, there wasn't one. At last the flow stopped and, after that, the cramping slowly eased. However she still felt that she needed the toilet more than she had ever done before and this feeling just got worse and worse. Believing that she was unobserved, she briefly struggled against the cuffs that held her but to no avail. She wasn't going to escape and she wasn't going to find any comfort.

On the other side of the two-way mirror Barry and Geoff were watching her struggle. The masks they had worn when they had been her captors lay on the table in front of them along with two open pizza boxes. Gill, who had been 'inspecting' Sue, had also been the van driver and, on their way to the warehouse, she had used her mobile to order pizzas from the local take-away. Then, while she was doing the initial inspection, Geoff had been sent to pick them up. Now, with Sue suitably restrained, it was time for a break. Gill came in, went over to a sink in the corner, washed her hands thoroughly and sat down at the table.

"Is that one mine?" Gill asked, pointing at the one unopened box.

"Yeah, four seasons, right," Geoff replied.

"Thanks, Geoff."

"So, how's it going?"

"Fine, fine. No problems at all. Mind you, I don't think I've ever had one so deep into the role," Gill replied. "I'd swear her reactions are genuine; it's almost as if she doesn't know it's make believe. If she wasn't getting off on it I'd be worried."

"But she is getting off on it. She's hot and ready to trot?" Barry asked.

"Yeah, didn't you see how easy my fingers slipped inside her pussy and, when I poked her up the arse, she was practically begging for more. Is anal part of the script? I assume so, what with the enema and all."

Barry picked up a folder that was lying on the table and flicked through it. The third page was a copy of the questionnaire that Jennifer had filled in. He picked it out and ran a finger down the list of activities until he found the one he was looking for.

"Here we go; she's given anal four stars so, if it's not, then it ought to be." He turned to the rest of the file flicked through the pages. "Ah, here we go, yes, she gets anal, but don't you be getting your hopes up, Geoffy baby, she's going bi-curious. We'll just be onlookers."

"If you read the script before we started you'd already know that," Geoff commented.

"Yeah, but I like to wing it. Makes my performance more spontaneous. So, if she's going bi-curious, who's playing the Countess?"

"Fiona's got that one. I'm stuck with playing the auctioneer, again," Gill said bitterly. "Why can't I be the Countess for a change?"

"Because Fi looks good in heels and you look good in glasses and a business suit," Barry replied. "But look at this way, playing the auctioneer is better than playing one of the slaves." 

Gill, miffed at being told that Fi looked better in heels, shot him a glance that would have scorched titanium, but this friendly joshing was all part and parcel of being part of the 'cast'. This banter continued as Barry put the script back on the table and the three of them finished off the pizzas, washing them down with cans of Coke.

"Well, no peace for the wicked," Gill said when she had finished the last slice. "It's time for our little lady to get scrubbed down. See you later." And with that Gill returned to the room where Sue still hung from the frame.

Gill could see the relief on Sue's face when she returned. However, her discomfort was far from over. Gill kicked the lever that unlocked the brakes on the wheels of the dolly and pushed it towards a large pair of doors at the end of the room. The doors swung back when the dolly hit them to reveal a bathroom area a bit like the changing rooms at the gym. At the far end was an open shower located over a drain in the floor. Gill pushed the dolly until it was over the drain and then locked the wheels. She went to a cupboard where she fitted over her lab coat a plastic overall followed by a surgical mask over her face, surgical gloves and hat along with some eye protectors that fitted over her normal glasses. She took a bucket from the bottom shelf, which she used to carry hair shampoo, shower gel, shaving foam, a razor and a natural sponge. These she arranged on a shelf before taking the bucket and putting it on the dolly between Sue's legs. She released the valve on the enema nozzle so that it shrunk and could be eased out, picking up the bucket as she did so. Sue wasn't sure what was expected of her but, as soon as the enema plug was removed, she could hold back no longer and, with an immense sense of release, she voided her bowels.

With a look of absolute distaste, and feeling as if this was where she really earned her wages, Gill took the bucket and emptied the contents down the toilet. She rinsed it out with disinfectant and put on the ground next to the toilet bowl. Returning to where Sue hung, she reached for the showerhead, turned it up full blast and directed it at Sue's backside. The shock to Sue as the water hit her buttocks was partially mitigated by the sense of relief that the end of the enema had left her with.

At first Gill merely washed away the results of the enema. Pointing the showerhead directly at Sue's buttocks and the back of her legs, she repeatedly soaked and rinsed until all was completely clean. This done, she started in earnest, soaking Sue from head to foot before reattaching the showerhead to its holder and returning with the hair shampoo. Although the circumstances were undeniably bizarre, Sue actually enjoyed having the rich lather massaged over her scalp. Then Gill switched to the shower gel and sponge, washing down Sue's body, starting with her face and working all the way down until every inch and every nook and cranny was thoroughly clean. 

Before rinsing Sue off, Gill swapped the shower gel and sponge for the shaving foam and razor. Although Sue had shaved her armpits earlier, Gill still lathered them up and did them again. Then, inevitably, Sue's pubic mound was in for the same treatment. Although Sue had already trimmed her pubic bush to a neat 'landing strip' this was not going to suffice and Gill, grabbing a stool, sat down in front of her and worked away at removing every trace of hair.

Sue gave another shudder. Was that because of the chill she felt a result of standing wet and naked? Was it brought on by the eerie silence as her intimate parts were shaven? Was it the feel as the blade slid over her sensitive flesh, both titillating and worrying? She didn't want to get nicked. She sincerely hoped that the woman would continue with the level of care and attention had brought to the rest of her treatment. Maybe it was it a mixture of all of the above. Maybe it was the continuing chaos of her confused jumble of emotions. 

She was still trying to process what the woman had said about 'slaves' and 'owners'. Whilst she had heard that slavery was still endemic in parts of the third world, surely that didn't mean that ordinary British women were snatched from the streets of London? Furthermore, the care and attention being lavished on her meant that she wasn't destined to end up in a sweatshop sewing trainers and, surely, if they were looking for girls to be sold into prostitution in the back street brothels of some Far East city then they would be looking for someone younger than her. So, almost as strong as the 'what's going on?' confusion was the equally baffling 'why me?'

Countering these fears, part of her was firmly in denial. Somewhere amongst all this were her adolescent fantasies about being whisked away by some sort of Rudolph Valentino figure. A romantic novel she had read as a teenager had caught her fancy and, whilst she knew it was pure tosh aimed to titillate, the images it had evoked had fuelled her fantasies ever since. The woman busy working away between her thighs was playing directly into this fantasy. Not that she was some mysterious stranger sweeping her away on a wild stallion or anything like that. More it was the sense that Sue was being prepared, that, having been captured, she was being titivated for the benefit of whoever was eventually going to take advantage of her. Was it any wonder that, along with the fears and uncertainties, there was a tingling anticipation about who it was that had ordered this?

From Sue's perspective Gill seemed to be frustratingly overzealous. Time after time she'd run her fingers over Sue's recently denuded flesh feeling for any roughness and, when she found some, she would once again apply the razor. At last, when she was finally satisfied, she rinsed the area off with the showerhead, after which she set to with some tweezers picking out the hairs she had missed with the razor or those in areas where the razor couldn't reach. Unsurprisingly, there were a significant number of those in the perineum, where Sue had found it hardest to shave and, as Gill plucked them out, Sue was hard pressed to contain the little squeaks of pain, which threatened to escape. At one point the she wasn't quite successful and Gill reached under the plastic overalls for the remote for the shock collar, looked up at Sue and gestured meaningfully. Sue, wondering if the shock collar would even be safe under the shower, bit her lip to keep herself quiet.

Eventually Gill was satisfied so she picked up the showerhead one more time and, this time, rinsed Sue down from head to foot. Then, using soft white towels she picked from a pile, she towelled her down from head to toe. With Sue clean and dry, Gill took off the protective clothing, unlocked the wheels of the dolly and pushed it back into the other room.

When they got there she picked up off the table a wide leather belt. When Sue saw that it had cuffs attached she knew exactly what it was and where it was going. It looked like her time in the frame was over. The belt was made from hard leather and wide enough to stretch from the top of Sue's hips to the bottom of her ribs. Gill did the three fastening buckles up quite tightly so it constricted her waist almost like a short corset. When Sue's left wrist was freed from the frame she had more sense than to fight it. After all, her other three limbs were still attached and the shock collar was still around her neck. The right hand was next and Sue had to concentrate on keeping her balance until her feet were freed.

Gill moved a stool in front of the mirror and gestured with the shock collar remote that Sue should go and sit on it. A link from the back of the stool was fastened to a D ring on the belt and ankle cuffs attached to the front legs of the stool made sure Sue would stay put. Gill then took a brush and dryer and proceeded to style Sue's hair. Once it was dry she moved behind Sue to give her a manicure and replace her nail varnish. Sue couldn't, of course, see exactly what was happening but, judging from the bottle, her nails were going to end up a bright scarlet. This was repeated for her toenails and this time Sue could see and confirm that, yes, they were going pillar box red. Whilst waiting for Sue's nails to dry, Gill started on her make-up. She selected a range of pencils and powders from the table and set to on Sue's eyes. Gill had spend some time working away before she turned for some more eye shadow and Sue was able to see the progress so far. Grudgingly she had to admit that, although the look she was being given was tartier than she would have chosen, it wasn't too bad. Gill was obviously an accomplished beautician. Mind you, Sue would never have chosen lipstick in that bright red shade, even if it did match her nails.

But, even then, Gill wasn't quite finished. She turned one more time to the table and, when she turned back she was holding three items which looked like tweezers except that the gripping ends were covered with rubber tips, there was a sliding ring to lock them shut and the other end had a little bell attached. Starting with Sue's left breast Gill leaned forward and gave her nipple a little kiss, sucking and nibbling until it was fully erect. Then, pulling the nipple out with her fingers, she clamped the tweezers around it and slid the ring up until grip was firm. This whole procedure was then repeated on the right breast so that Sue was now wearing a matching pair.




Mistaken Identity Ch. 01



Sue had already guessed where the third clip was going and, when Gill pushed her knees farther apart, her guess was confirmed. Gill used her left hand to hold Sue's labia apart and, after licking her fight forefinger, used it to gently stimulate Sue's clitoris. The insistent throbbing from the nipple clamps was already having an effect and Gill's forefinger, along with the knowledge of what was coming, was just what was required to have Sue's clitoris aroused and poking out. This time, when the clamp was applied, Sue couldn't avoid a shudder and she was fighting back the urge to cry out. Gill, noting this, moved it slightly so that the clamp was around the hood rather than directly on her clitoris and, when the jaws were closed, the pain, although still very much there, was now bearable.

Gill disappeared for a while, returning with a shoebox from one of the better West End stores. From this she removed a pair of strappy high-heeled shoes. Sue's heart sunk. She had obviously worn heels before but these were extreme and she knew she would struggle. Gill knelt down before her and undid the ankle cuffs before fitting them. Then she undid the link which held the belt to the stool and ordered Sue to rise.

When she got to her feet, walking was as hard as Sue had feared. She was tottering on the heels and, with her arms firmly fixed behind her back, she couldn't use them to balance her. The three clamps, especially the one on her clitoral hood, punished every clumsy move as they tugged at her sensitive flesh. Impatiently Gill ordered her to walk by swinging her hips and, using a cane to reinforce her points, instructed Sue on the small, mincing steps she would need to use in these heels. Satisfied at last that Sue could walk without falling, Gill led her from the room, down a corridor and through a door marked 'Display Room'.

This room, while not particularly large, was well appointed. At one end was a seating area with a sofa and two armchairs arranged around a coffee table. At the other was a small dais and, arranged across it were three upright chrome metal poles, each maybe waist height. From the top of each pole hung a short length of chain with a quick release clip on the end. Sue had trouble stepping up onto the dais. The nine inch rise nearly defeated her, but Gill held her arm to support her and she was led over to the left hand pole where she was positioned with her back to it. The chain from the pole was attached to the D ring at the back of the belt and Sue was, once again, locked in place. From off to one side Gill fetched a block, nine inches square and two feet long which was covered in the same carpeting as the dais. This was placed between Sue's ankles so that she was forced into a wide legged stance. Gill stood back, tilted her head to one side and gave Sue a long, critical look. Evidently she was satisfied with what she saw as she then turned on her heel and left.

All Sue could do was wait. She could not reach to where the chain was attached to her belt so she wasn't going anywhere. Although she could reach for the top of the pole with her hands the extra support it gave was minimal and Sue was fast finding how the simple act of standing still can be tiring when wearing such extreme heels. However, she hadn't been waiting long before the door opened and Gill reappeared leading a woman who was similarly dressed, or should that be undressed, as Sue was. As this woman was led over and attached to the far right post she glanced across and her eyes spoke a symphony of fear and dread. It wasn't long after this that two became three. This time the woman being fastened to the middle post was tall, thin and very black. She brought to mind a documentary Sue had seen on the Masai tribe, elegant and poised, except in this case, she was obviously distressed as well. Gill gave a quick glance around, ensuring all was ready before disappearing again. 

Sue looked across at her companions. Both were attractive women and, with the combination of the wide stance, the high heels enhancing their legs and the way their cuffed wrists forced them to stand with their breasts thrust forward, there was no doubt that they were being shown at their best. As with Sue they were closely shaven and the hint of shower gel in the air suggested that they had been prepared in the same way. Sue smiled at the black girl, trying to make some sort of contact, but she seemed too scared to respond.

The door opened again but this time it wasn't Gill who entered but a woman dressed not unlike those on the stage. She was evidently the end product of the process into which they had been thrown. Like the exhibits she wore little more than high heels and a wide leather belt but, unlike the exhibits, her collar was more decorative than functional and, as an extra, she wore matching leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles. Another significant difference was the vivid red stripes across her backside. Evidently it wasn't just shock collars that were used for training. She was carrying a tray, which she put down on the table, taking from it and arranging champagne in its ice bucket and the accompanying four flutes to make a harmonious display. This done, she went over and stood against the wall, straight and upright and looking very pretty. Then it was back to waiting.

It was only five minutes or so later that Gill did appear. Her lab coat was gone and she was dressed in a charcoal grey business suit, the 'A' line skirt coming to just below the knee. She was accompanied by three others, two men, both smartly dressed business types, and another woman who was tall, slim and elegant. Chatting gaily they sat down on the sofa and armchairs and the 'slave' who had brought the tray in, taking the role of hostess, opened the champagne and poured out four glasses. These were evidently the 'owners' and Sue was hardly surprised when, as she was pouring, one of the men reached between the thighs of the slave and groped between her thighs. Indeed, even when the champagne was poured, he continued to hold her and Sue could see her squirming in an attempt to avoid his attentions.

"And so, Herr Otto," Gill started, "if you can keep your hands off Trixie for a moment. As you know, she is not for sale; well, not today, anyway. Is there anything on the stage which takes your interest?"

With this the three 'owners' turned their attention to the stage. Suddenly Sue felt more naked, more open, more exposed than she had ever felt before. Sure, she had been naked ever since her clothes had been ripped from her when she had first arrived. Sure, the woman who had prepared her had taken outrageous liberties with the most intimate parts of her body. Sure, she had been standing, on display, her breasts thrust out and her legs wide open, for some time, but now, now it was different. The three 'owners' turned towards the stage and scrutinised the girls. More than anything Sue wanted to close her legs but the shock collar remote was just there on the table and she knew what would happen if she did. She found herself starting to shake, which made the bells attached to her nipples and clitoris ring out.

"As you know, I am looking for new ponies for my farm. The black mare would look fine between the shafts of a sulky, but I might be interested in the others as well, if the price is right. Tell me, are there many bidders tonight?" Herr Otto replied in a strong German accent.

"Apart from the three of you here we have a further nine on our internet feed," Gill replied, following the script. Secretly she was appalled at the way that Barry was hamming it up as Herr Otto, but the client seemed to be buying it.

"I thought you only had two girls on offer," Geoff, acting as 'Walt' from the US of A, said in what he thought passed for a Texan drawl.

"Well, Walt, that was the plan but we had a last minute addition. The one on the left was only picked up this evening. That's why we're a few minutes late starting the sale."

"May I?" 'Walt' took a large cigar out of his pocket and, without waiting for an answer, proceeded to light it. In response, 'Herr Otto' took out a pack of Turkish cigarettes and put one in a long thin holder before lighting it. 

"And you, Countess, do you wish to smoke?" Gill asked of the woman who had come in with them.

"As you are aware, my vices lie elsewhere," the Countess replied. "But we are not here to smoke, it is not long before the sale and I want to inspect the goods before I buy."

She got up and, followed by the others, went over the stage. The Countess spoke in a strong accent, which Sue thought might be, for example, Brazilian. She certainly had the colour for such a Latin background. In fact Fiona, who was playing the Countess, was from Croydon. Her Latin looks were the result of her Italian father and her colour the result of regular foreign holidays.

At first the three owners just walked about, going from one captive girl to another and looking at them from all angles. However, it wasn't long before look turned to touch as the owners' inspections got closer and closer. The Texan went as far as to peel back Sue's lip and, with a curt 'open', he inspected her teeth. Meanwhile, 'Herr Otto' was lifting the black girls breasts, weighing them, pushing them from side to side.

"This filly, her breasts are a trifle large for pony work," he commented ruefully. "That is a pity because, otherwise, she's a fine specimen."

"What's the problem with big tits?" 'Walt' objected. "My ranch hands, they like a bit of tit on a girl. The bigger the better as far as they're concerned."

"It's the racing," Herr Otto explained. "When she runs they will swing about and slow her down. I require sleeker lines. And now let us look at this filly." He came over and joined 'Walt' in front of Sue. The bells on her nipple clamps jingled as he felt her breasts, lifting them, peering underneath, presumably looking for breast enhancement scars.

"This one is better," he said. "The breasts are firm and natural. There's more than enough to know she's not a stallion but she should be fine when racing. Do you see?" he asked. 'Walt' followed his lead, jiggling Sue's breasts around and agreed that they were suitable. "I feel she would be perfect with a little training," Herr Otto continued as bent down and felt Sue's calves and then her thighs, just as if her were buying a horse. "Yes, yes, she has good muscle tone, very fine indeed."

Sue shuddered as his hands continue to wander over her body. It would almost have been preferable if he had seen her as a sex object rather than livestock for racing. This did not play at all to her Rudolf Valentino fantasy.

"My boys spend enough time with real horses to want to play with human ones on their time off," Walt said with a laugh. "They're simple boys. They want 'em leggy, blonde and willing. Mind you, I'm prepared to make an exception on the blonde part for Black Beauty here." He indicated the girl fastened to the middle post. "How's she for gobbling. You say she's had basic training. Do you mind if I...?"

"No, please, go ahead, be my guest," Gill replied. 

'Walt' reached behind Black Beauty's' waist for the clip which held her belt, undid it, and pushed her to her knees. He unzipped his fly, pulled out his penis and stood in front of her.

"Come on, honey, show Uncle Walt just how willing you are and maybe I'll buy you for my ranch hands. They like a little dark meat from time to time."

Black Beauty made a small show of reluctance but 'Walt' grabbed her by the hair, which made her cry out and, when she did, he forced himself inside her.

'Black Beauty', whose real name was Celia, had known all along that this was coming. After all, it was in the script and, to tell the truth, she didn't really mind. It wasn't just that ExF paid well for her services, although the fact that she had paid off her student loan, and had quite a bit put away in the bank, was a big plus. Far more relevant was the relaxed attitude that had, by necessity, developed within the cast. When your job involves repeated intimate contact it is impossible to be uptight about such things and if, this time, she was the one giving Geoff a blowjob, he might well end up repaying the favour next time around. And then, well, while she wouldn't admit it too loudly to the others, she was never that upset when she 'drew the short straw' and sometimes, with a show of mock reluctance, she would end up offering to play the submissive roles. Partially because it was what the role required and partially because she did enjoy her work, she did her utmost to give Geoff the best blow-job she could and was ready and willing to swallow his sperm when it came.

Whilst 'Black Beauty' was busy giving 'Walt' his blow-job, Herr Otto went over to join the Countess who was inspecting the girl on the left hand post. Sue watched as the Countess reached down and pushed her fingers between the woman's lower lips. The Countess stared into the girl's eyes as she did so but the slave made only a minimal response. After a few moments of this the Countess withdrew her hand and dismissively glanced at the tips of her fingers.

"This one, she is a cold fish," the Countess commented. "I am not interested in cold fish. You can train for obedience but you cannot train for passion. I want my girls to be passionate. What about this other one? Is she passionate?"

The Countess came over and stood in front of Sue, standing so close that, as with the other girl, she could reach down and slip her fingers between Sue's freshly shaven lips. The clamp that had been fitted around Sue's clitoral hood, and the constant throbbing it produced, had kept Sue at least semi-aroused and sensitive to each and every movement. Now the Countess's expert fingers were adding their own piquancy to the mix and the bell on the end of the clamp wasn't the only one that was ringing. 

Despite herself, Sue couldn't help but react to this delicious teasing and, almost imperceptibly, she pushed herself forward. This, however, was exactly what the Countess was waiting for. She removed her fingers and held the glistening tips up for all to see.

"Hmm... this is more like it. Let's find out if it's the real thing, shall we?" the Countess glanced over at the waitress. "You, girl, Trixie, isn't it?"

Trixie hurried over and curtseyed in front of the Countess.

"I wish to see if this girl has genuine passion. You know what to do."

Angela, who was playing Trixie, did know just what to do and not just because it was in the script. Unlike Celia, she was quite open about her preferences. She loved to play the submissive roles and, when they were putting this scene together, it was she who had suggested this part of it. She knelt down in front of Sue and gently took the bell that dangled from the clit clamp in her hand.

"Please, Countess," she asked. "May I remove this whilst I...?"

"If you feel it would get in the way."

"Thank you, Countess."

'Trixie' unclipped the clamp and immediately leaned forward and probed with her tongue. The sharp pain as the blood returned to Sue's clitoris was mitigated by 'Trixie' quite literally kissing it better. Now she was seriously conflicted. Not only was she being turned on against her will, it was being done by another woman. She was straight, definitely straight, so on both counts it was wrong and there was no way on earth that she could possibly be getting off on this outrageous treatment. She wanted to close her legs, she wanted to turn away, she wanted this all to just stop but.... On the other hand 'Trixie' was an expert and knew from first hand experience just what a girl needed immediately after a clit clamp had been removed. The play of her tongue against Sue's flesh was both soothing and arousing and, as she played sweet music with the sensitive folds below so the Countess took Sue's chin in her hand and held it so that they stared into each other's eyes.

Sue felt like a bug under a microscope. The thing that riled her, the thing that really got her goat, was that this damnable woman, this Countess, seemed to think that she was some sort of sex doll, that, by simply pressing the right buttons, she could be made to come on command. And the worst of it was that it would appear that she was right. Despite, or was that because of, the bizarre situation she found herself in, she could feel the climax building with her and, mindful of the rule about speaking out loud, she had to stifle a moan of pleasure. Again the Countess was quick to pick up on this.

"Ah yes, just as I thought, she loves what little Trixie is doing to her," the Countess smiled, "I see it in her eyes. She was a slave long before she was captured, a slave to the fire in her loins. A slave to the unspoken hungers she would try to deny. Purchasing this one would be doing her a favour, allowing her to fulfill her destiny, allowing her to really explore the depths of her depravity. She would be wasted as one of your ponies, Herr Otto; she has so much more to give than pulling a sulky."

"Maybe my customers would like to sample some of this depravity," Herr Otto replied. "After all, when the races are over, it is time for the stallion to service the mare."

"And what do your 'stallions' know about servicing a woman's body? Your 'mares' are just another hole into which they can ram their manhoods. No, it takes a woman to really understand another woman's body. Look! Look! She's come to her climax!"

Indeed, Sue was overwhelmed by a combination of the bizarre situation, Trixie's ministrations, and speculation as to what would be involved when Herr Otto's stallions serviced her or, more mysterious still, the Countess's 'dark depravities'. Although she would never, in a million years, have said that it would be possible for her to climax standing up, that was exactly what was happening to her. Her knees were buckling and she was struggling to stay upright but she had no other option. Her bound wrists would not let her fall. This tension merely added to the fire and, in the end, she couldn't hold back any more. Leaning backwards and grasping the top of the post with her hands, she let out a massive groan of pleasure as the fire from her groin washed through her. She had to fight to stay balanced on her high heels as wave after wave crashed through her. Then, her passion spent and shaking like a leaf, she slumped forward, unbidden tears rolling down her face. The Countess, who was still holding Sue's chin, leant forward and gently licked the salty moisture from her cheeks.

"Yes, indeed, this one would be wasted as a pony. She has so much more to give and I'm just the one to take it from her," the Countess said with satisfaction.

"We shall see," Herr Otto replied. "The bidding has not started yet."

"But we already have all our internet clients on line and we would like to start as soon as possible," Gill interrupted them. "If you would be so kind as to take your seats, then we can get the first sale under way."

As the three owners returned to the seating area Gill refastened Black Beauty to her post and then turned to Sue. Trixie had anticipated Gill's requirement, or rather she had read the script, so she passed Gill cloth to wipe down Sue's thighs and a make-up kit to do emergency repairs where Sue's mascara had run. This done, Trixie returned to serving champagne to the owners and Gill fitted a headset and walked to the centre of the stage. On cue a large screen television positioned on one of the side walls switched on. Sue saw that it showed a video feed of the room and when she looked at the ceiling above the seating area, she could see the camera.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Gill started. "Tonight we have three delightful young female slaves on sale for you. The details should have been emailed to you under the usual secure arrangements. If not, they are available as usual on the web site. You all know the procedure by now, all bids are considered binding and all transactions are in pounds sterling. Current exchange rates are shown on our financials page.




Mistaken Identity Ch. 01



"So, without further ado, let's move on to our first offering," Gill indicated with her hand the girl on the far right, "which is a twenty five year old British girl. She was captured nine days ago and has been in our care ever since. During this time she has undergone basic training and health checks. Details, as ever, are on the site. So, let's have a closer look. Trixie, if you'd be so kind."

Trixie came up onto the stage, went over to the girl, released her from the post and, guiding her by the back of the belt, took her to the front of the dais. The girl was then paraded around, turning this way and that so that every aspect or her was displayed. At one point she was bent over and Trixie spread her buttocks so that her backside was presented to the camera. All the while Gill extolled her virtues, an auctioneer putting maximum spin on the object she was selling. And, as far as the sales pitch went, the girl was an object. The spin stressed her stressed the size and firmness of her breasts rather than her IQ score, even if they knew it. The buyers wanted a doll, a sex doll, not a person.

And then the auction itself started. Sue was amazed at the amount of money being bandied about. Six figure sums were the norm, right from the start. Notably none of the owners in the room were bidding but the screen showed the current bid along with the screen name of the person who had made it. Eventually the bidding petered out and, although Sue had no idea as to who had won she heard Gill say that they would arrange shipping to Abu Dhabi as soon as the payment had cleared.

And then it was the turn of Black Beauty. She was described as a twenty three year old French girl of Sudanese extraction and, as part of the spiel, they showed a clip of her giving Walt his blow job. As well as extolling her 'oral skills', Gill spent some time pointing out the virtues of Black Beauty's breasts and her Amazonian height. This time, when they got to the actual auction, Walt was one of the bidders and, playing along with the script, he had to fight off another bidder until he finally acquired what he wanted. When she was 'sold' Black Beauty was led over to kneel down on the floor and 'Walt' fondled her hair as they moved on to the last and final lot.

Like the others, Sue was unfastened from her post and led out to the front of the stage. Like the others, she was paraded about and put on display. When she was positioned at the front of the stage with her legs wide apart Trixie stood behind her, reaching round from behind her to cup her breast so as to offer them up to the camera. Once again Sue felt more naked than she had ever been before. Now her breasts were thrust forward and her sex was gaping open. She was being offered up, in every sense of the word, and, as well as the three owners in the room there was the unblinking eye of the TV camera.

"And here we have a last minute addition to tonight's offerings," Gill opened her spiel. "A last minute pick up, she was only acquired a few hours ago. It is seldom we offer slaves so fresh from their freedom. She has been thoroughly checked over and is certified free of piercings, tattoos, breast enhancements or any scarring. What you see, ladies and gentlemen, is what you get.

"But it's not just her physical charms that make this a very special offering. Right from the start this little beauty has shown an innate subservience that marks her out a natural slave. With the merest minimum of inducement she has shown a level of compliance that normally requires weeks of training. Why, even now, as she stands open and naked before you, her submissive nature is plain to those who know where to look. All allow me to demonstrate. Trixie, if you'd be so kind...."

Trixie, who was still standing directly behind Sue, used her left hand to hold Sue's hair, keeping her head back and chin up. To help keep her balance on the high heels and to release some of the strain on her hair Sue leaned back and let Trixie support her. With her right hand Trixie reached down for Sue's groin and gently probed with her fingers. On screen, while the main picture showed all of Sue, some digital trickery was used to open another window, tightly focussed on Trixie's fingers and the magic they worked on Sue's unprotected sex. Trixie's fingers parted the folds of flesh so all could see Sue's swollen clitoris signalling her arousal. 

Sue just wished the ground would open up and swallow her. The auctioneer's comments about her compliance were so unfair. She was under duress, under threat from the shock collar. Who wouldn't stay quiet knowing that any false move would result in instant agony? And, if her sex was responding to Trixie's busy fingers, then, well, the damn clit clamp had left her super sensitive; after that who could blame her if such expert usage was having an effect on her? And now everyone was assuming she welcomed such treatment. How, when she was forbidden to speak, could she explain that it had nothing to do with how she was being treated, nothing, nothing!

"Do you see how prettily she blushes, and yet how eagerly she responds to Trixie's touch," Gill commented. "It would almost be cruel not to enslave one such as her, one whose proclivities, whose whole disposition, is towards submission. Just think what a slave such as this would add to your collection. How, with the minimum of coercion, it will be easy to train her to serve in whatever way you desire. Come now, let us open the bidding."

At first there was a flurry of bids but it soon settled down to a contest between the Countess and Herr Otto. Each seemed determined to outbid the other. Sue was amazed as the amounts soared into the higher six figures. Surely these people must have money to burn.

And then the bidding started to slow and, finally, ended with the Countess in the lead. 

"Can I not tempt you a little more, Herr Otto? Just look at her breasts," Gill went over and caressed them, "did you not say yourself how suited they are to a racing pony? With the right training, and who better than you to provide such training, with the right training she could win many races."

"She would have to win many races at the prices you are charging," Herr Otto quipped. "Enough, you will bankrupt me." He stood up, turned to the Countess and gave her a smart bow. "You win, Countess. Your pockets are deeper than mine. I hope you find that she is worth it."

"Thank you. Herr Otto," the Countess replied. "That's very gracious of you. Be assured that, one way or another, I intend to get my money's worth. And maybe, next time I'm in Austria, I'll pay you a visit and we'll see just how well she fares around the race track."

"You are welcome any time, you know that. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have business elsewhere."

"And I'm going to enjoy myself with this one," Walt said, taking Black Beauty's hair and pulling it back so that she lifted her head. "I'm going to give her a thorough road test, check that she's good for more than just blowjobs."

"And you, Countess?" Gill asked.

"I need to contact my bank. I have spent rather more than I expected and will need to transfer the funds. Could you have," the Countess paused for a moment, "Rosalita, yes she is to be called Rosalita, will you have her taken to my suite?"

"Of course," Gill replied. "Trixie would be delighted to assist."

"I'm sure she would," the Countess laughed.

And with that they all trooped out. When they had gone Trixie, who was still holding Sue, guided her to the door, out, along a corridor, and into a well appointed suite of rooms. The main room was a living area with a sofa, armchairs, a kitchenette area to one side and a large screen television. Off on one side was a bedroom with an attached en-suite bathroom. Sue was led through to the bedroom where she was surprised to see a cage built into the foot-board of biggest bed she had ever seen. The cage fitted right across the foot of the bed and was high enough to project above it by a few inches so that the free height inside the cage was just adequate to house a crouching slave. The frame of the cage was made from the same wood as the bed and was nicely integrated; if a bed with a cage at the end could be considered stylish then this was it. Trixie took off Sue's shoes before opening the door at one end and guiding her down and into the cage. It was a tightish fit for both height and width. With her wrists still locked behind her Sue had to shuffle forwards on her knees and, once inside, she had to curl up quite tight before Trixie could close the door behind her. However, the mattress was soft and, as she settled down inside, she had the consolation of knowing she was going to be comfortable while she waited. Trixie closed the door of the cage and locked it and, as she left, all Sue could do was wait, wait to see what was going to be done to her next.

As Sue waited the cast were relaxing in the staffroom. 

"God, Barry, if your German accent gets any more hammy we'll be making sandwiches out of it," Gill exclaimed as she flopped on a sofa.

"Just playing to the script," Barry replied with a wide grin.

"Just playing the fool," Geoff replied.

"As if your Texan drawl was any more convincing," Barry retorted.

"Children, children," Celia cut across. Now that her part in the proceedings was over she had changed back into a pink tracksuit and was ready to go home. Barry thought that she looked gorgeous and was trying to build up the courage to ask her out. Jayne, too, had changed into 'civvies' as had Gill, but Angela and Fiona, Trixie and the Countess respectively, were still in costume. Angela had wrapped herself in a dressing gown, partially to keep warm, partially for modesty. Whilst she had no problem strutting her stuff while playing one of the scenarios, and, indeed, had been involved in a wide range of sexual activities both with other cast members and with the punters, here in the staffroom she always felt a little shy.

"Where's the boss?" Geoff asked. "She's usually here to watch when we have a new customer."

"She got called to LA," Fiona replied. "Some movie star demanding an immediate interview. She's not normally pushed around like that but money talks, I guess."

"Some movie star? Who is it? Please tell me it's...."

"Never you mind who it is or isn't," Fiona cut across sharply. "We all know the rules about client confidentiality and, if we do get this one, those rules apply double. Anyway, the boss is due back some time tomorrow so I guess she'll fill us all in on the details when she arrives." She glanced at her watch. "Anyway, it's time for our little Rosalita to get fed. Angela, are you all set?"

"Five minutes," Angela replied. She got up and went over to the kitchen area where she found a dog's double feeding bowl. From the bread bin she took three slices of granary and tore them into bite size chunks, putting them in one of the bowls. The other side she filled with plain tap water. Picking up her high heels she set off down the corridor until she was outside the entrance to the suite area of the set. Putting the dog bowl on a table placed next to the door, she put the shoes on the floor and stepped into them. She was well practised at walking in extreme heels but she still preferred not to unless the script demanded it. Then she took off her dressing gown and hung it on a hook next to the door. Back in costume and back in role, she entered the suite as 'Trixie'.

Sue looked up when she heard the door open, wondering what was in store for her next. She was expecting the Countess but, instead, it was Trixie carrying a dog bowl arrangement. Trixie came over to the cage and put the dog bowl down on top of it. Then she undid a catch, which allowed part of the end of the cage to fold down. This left a hole big enough for Sue to poke her head through and the folded down bit made a sort of ledge on which the dog bowl could be placed. As Trixie bent down to put the bowl on the ledge Sue looked out at her.

"Please...." she started.

Angela looked at the caged woman. She was just about to go into role and give a harsh rebuke when she saw the look of lost confusion in her eyes and, despite the fact that she thought this was all play-acting, she took real pity on her.

"We slaves are not supposed to talk," she said gently.

"But what's going to happen to me? Please, I need to know."

Angela stared again at the caged woman. She'd known the customers go deep into role, after all, they were paying enough for the experience so they would want to get the most from it, but even so this was extraordinary. It really was as if this woman thought it was the real thing. But surely Gill and the boys would have done their checks and, when she thought back to the scene just before the auction, there was no mistaking then how much this woman had got off on the abuse. With an internal sigh, Angela dismissed any doubts she might have. If the client wanted to go this deep into the role then that's what she was paying for and Angela, grateful for the employment, was glad to oblige.

"You're a slave now. You were sold to the Countess. You'll stay here for a day or two and then, when she returns to Venezuela, so will you."

"Venezuela!"

"Shh! the Countess is not a bad Mistress but she will be strict at first. Learn to please her and all will be well. Now, eat up, that's all you will get for a while and the Countess gets upset if you don't finish your food."

Sue looked at the bread and water in front of her.

"I'd rather die," she said with vehemence.

"No, you wouldn't," Angela reassured her as she stood back up to leave.

And once again, Sue was left on her own. Angela left the room and, putting her dressing gown back on, returned to the staff room. There, along with the others, she watched the CCTV screen as Sue, tentatively at first, dipped her head in the first bowl and picked out a piece of bread. This she washed down with a sip or two of water.

"So, what's next?" Angela asked of the room in general.

Fiona picked up the script from the table.

"Well, she spends some time in the cage and then it the Countess's bed time. Trixie comes with me to act as personal maid so tonight it's you and me getting up close and personal. After that there's a whole bundle of options depending on what signals she gives of and whether or not she spends the night in the cage. Cast members, You and myself with Gill on standby in case we need a representative from 'Management'. Who's manning the CCTV?"

"I'm on it," Ruth, their resident techie, a young woman wearing jeans and a tee shirt answered.

"Fine. Nice job with the web site, by the way. Looked just like the real thing would," Fiona said. "Are you sure you're OK with staying up all night?"

Ruth just grunted. They were well used to her taciturn ways but there was no doubting her skill and they all trusted her implicitly. Without her, many of the tricks that persuaded the customers that this converted warehouse was an international slave trading centre simply wouldn't work. She also seemed to have no concept of the normal working day. They were all used to unusual hours but Ruth would often put in thirty-six hour shifts just to see if a software upgrade would work.

For a while they all just relaxed but Fiona kept glancing at the CCTV, watching Sue until she judged that the time was right.

"OK Angela, time to get back in role. I think the customer has had enough on her own. It's time for the Countess and Trixie to go to bed. See you tomorrow, guys," and, with that, Fiona got up from the table and, after waiting for Angela to join her, made her way towards the suite. As when Angela had gone to feed Sue, they stopped outside the door to get properly in role and then, with Fiona, or rather the Countess, taking the lead, they went into the suite.

At first they completely ignored Sue. Fiona, as the Countess, started to disrobe and Angela, as Trixie, acted as her maid. From time to time Fiona would glance at Sue out of the corner of her eye and was gratified to see that she was watching closely. When the Countess was completely naked Trixie went to the cupboard and fetched out a mid thigh satin shift and a matching gown. Then the Countess sat down at the dressing table and proceeded to take off her make up.

In fact this deliberate procrastination was driving Sue crazy, just as it was supposed to do. Being ignored, being left alone, was building up her levels of frustration beyond that which she could endure. She wanted to cry out, to demand that, for better or for worse, this damn Countess should pay her some attention.

"Thank you, my dear," the Countess said as, at last, she got up from the dressing table. She walked towards the bed and, almost as if she had forgotten, glanced down at Sue in her cage.

"I see you fed little Rosalita," she said to Trixie. "Has she been taken to the bathroom as well?"

"No, Countess," Trixie replied. "Shall I do that now?"

"I think so. We don't want her soiling her bedding."

Trixie went to the door of the cage and unlocked it. Sue had to back out and, with her wrists still locked behind her back, this involved a certain amount of wiggling. As she came free Trixie slipped her fingers under Sue's collar and used it to guide her over to where the Countess stood.

"The collar, it can go," the Countess ordered and Trixie undid the buckles that held it and took it away.

"Stand," the Countess ordered and Sue struggled to her feet. "Let me look at you, let me see what I paid so much to acquire." She reached for Sue's breasts and removed the clips from her nipples. The sting as the blood returned was too much for Sue and she couldn't stop a little cry from escaping.

"Oh, my poor little Rosalita," the Countess said. "Are your nipples sore? But you looked so pretty with the bells hanging from them. I loved the way you tinkled as you walked. Maybe we should get your nipples pierced and then you could wear bells all the time. Would you like that?"

Sue, used by now to staying silent, didn't know whether the question was rhetorical or not. More than that, she was sure that her honest reply, that she could think of little worse, would simply get her into more trouble. 

"What's up, girl? Has the cat got your tongue? When I ask a direct question I expect an answer. Now, do you think I should get my slave's nipples pierced?"

"I... I don't know," Sue replied.

"Did I not tell you it pleased me for you to wear them?"

"Yes..." Sue got the impression more was expected of her. "Yes, Mistress," she essayed.

"I am not your Mistress, I'm your Countess and don't you forget it."

"I'm sorry, Countess." Sue felt that she was getting in more and more trouble but didn't know what, if anything to do about it.

"You are new, you are young and you are more than a little scared so I will forgive you, this time. Next time be sure that the crop or the cane will be used to help you remember your manners. Do you understand? And while we're at it, stand up straight and smile. I won't have my pets looking miserable."

"Yes, Countess." As Sue straightened up and pinned a smile on her face she noted that the Countess was only concerned as to whether her 'pets' looked miserable, not whether or not they were miserable.

"That's better. Now I paid a great deal of money for you and I expect to get value. Your job is to please me, to keep me happy, to be everything I want. If I think that you look pretty with bells on your nipples then your sole wish should be to please me by wearing them. Now then, I asked a question, would you like to have your nipples pierced so you could wear bells all the time?"

"Yes, Countess, that would be lovely, Countess," Sue replied as if she were a little girl agreeing to ribbons in her hair.

"And how about down here?" The Countess reached between Sue's legs and probed between her lower lips. "How about a bell down here as well."




Mistaken Identity Ch. 01



"If it would please you, Countess, then it would be my pleasure to wear one for you."

"That's better. Now you're learning." the Countess reached for Sue's breasts and took her nipples, still sore and protruding, between her fingers and thumbs. She pinched hard and jolts of pain throbbed through Sue's body. "Don't you ever forget it," the Countess half whispered, half snarled. "If you fail to please then you will be punished and, if that doesn't do the trick, then there is always a place for you in Herr Otto's stables. Or maybe you would prefer that?"

"No, Countess, of course not, Countess. I live to please you," Sue said hurriedly. The Countess might be scary but the thought of that horrible Herr Otto and being treated as some sort of racing pony, that was far, far worse.

"Very well. Now Trixie will take you to the bathroom and, after that, we'll talk some more."

Trixie took Sue by the elbow, led her to the luxuriously appointed en-suite, took her over to the toilet and sat her down. Sue just looked up with a 'what now?' expression. Trixie put her hands on Sue's knees and crouched down in front of her.

"I know you're scared. I was when I was first taken, but the Countess isn't a bad Mistress, well, as long as you keep her happy." Angela was following the script, which had her in the 'good cop' role. But, as well as the script, she was genuinely concerned for the welfare of the client. She's seen them deep in role before but this one was extraordinary. As such she was spurred on to play her part with more sincerity and not to ham it up the way the boys had done. This client, in her slave role, really needed a friendly face and it was Angela's, or rather Trixie's, place to provide it. 

"Who knows," Trixie continued, "if we don't upset her then maybe she'll let us play together. Would you like that? I know I would."

Sue looked at Trixie who, with her bubbly personality and happy go lucky ways seemed to be quite content with this bizarre lifestyle. If nothing else she'd found a friendly face and that calmed her down. She gave a weak smile in response.

"Come along now, let's not keep her waiting," Trixie urged and, to reinforce this, she gently pushed Sue's knees apart. 

With a shock Sue realised just what was being demanded of her. In her naïveté she had thought that she had been placed on the toilet simply as somewhere for her to sit down. Now it was apparent that she was expected to actually use it. The Countess's remarks about soiling her bedding came back to her and she realised how innocent she had been. Blushing deeply, partially from embarrassment at having to pee in front of someone else and partially in having been so stupidly innocent she hung her head.

"I don't think I can," she muttered.

"Yes, you can. Now, come on or we'll both be in trouble," Trixie urged.

"I can't. Not with you watching."

"Give it a try, please, do it for me, will you?"

Somehow being asked to do it for Trixie was just what Sue needed to overcome her shyness. And, when it came down to it, she did want to go. At first she had to force her self but soon, what started as a trickle, soon became a torrent. Again she looked at Trixie and, as their eyes met, she gave a little giggle. 

"There, that's better," Trixie said when Sue had finished. "Just let me wipe and then I'll brush your teeth."

Trixie used a piece of toilet paper to give Sue a quick wipe before flushing the toilet and rinsing off her hands. Then, once again, she took Sue by the elbow and led her over to the basin. From a cabinet above she took out a toothbrush, applied some toothpaste and, standing behind Sue, reached around to brush her teeth. Sue watched in the mirror as Trixie used her other hand to hold her tight. This touch of skin on skin, added to the way that something as banal as brushing her teeth was being done for her, was weirdly erotic. Once they had finished Trixie filled a glass with mineral water and held it up so that Sue could rinse. This, somewhat to Sue's surprise, was followed by two more glasses of water but, as it was cool and refreshing, Sue didn't mind too much. 

Then Sue had to wait while Trixie also used the toilet. She didn't seem in the least bit fazed about doing her business in front of a stranger. Then she too brushed her teeth so that the two of them were ready for bed. This done they returned to the bedroom. The Countess was stretched out on the bed and she looked up as the door opened.

"Oh, look at you both, my pretty little slaves, so sexy together! Oh, Trixie, you'd make such a perfect partner for Rosalita I might just put in an offer to buy you as well. Ship the pair of you back to Venezuela. What fun we would all have together!"

"Ooh, yes, please, Countess", Trixie replied. Sue just bolted on a smile.

"But because I've been told in no uncertain terms that you're not for sale I'm just going to have to make the best of what little time we do have together. Come along, Trixie, your owner tells me you're one of the best. Get undressed and show me just what that busy little tongue of yours can do for me."

Trixie took off her shoes, her wrist and ankle cuffs and her belt before jumping enthusiastically onto the bed. Settling between the Countess's outstretched legs she pushed up the hem of her shift. Then, starting with delicate butterfly kisses, she caressed the sensitive skin on the inside of the Countess's thighs with her lips.

"Watch carefully, my little Rosalita," the Countess ordered. "Soon it will be your place to give me pleasure. It is a skill you will have to learn and one I will make much use of. You will become an expert; I will make sure of that, and, if Trixie is anywhere as good as I have been told, it would be wise for you to emulate her. Come here, come closer, stand where I can reach you."

Sue moved next to the bed and the Countess stretched out her arm and reached between Sue's thighs. Sue had to fight the urge to step back as she felt the Countess's finger probing her flesh, searching for her entrance and slipping inside. This in itself was a bit of a shock for Sue. The ease with which they had slid inside spoke of a level of arousal that Sue had been trying to deny. Ever since her capture she had been on an emotional roller-coaster; scared, confused, bewildered, pushed from pillar to post and deprived of the most basic freedoms, she was having to use all her wits to keep herself together. What she hadn't had the head space to consider was what this penetration so vividly demonstrated, the fact that she was also turned on by it all. That seemed wrong, so wrong but she couldn't really deny it. Back in the auction room she had succumbed so easily to Trixie's ministrations and now, a combination of the Countess's fingers inside her and the sight of Trixie, busy between the Countess's thighs, was disturbingly erotic. It wasn't just that she didn't fight as the Countess used her finger as a hook to draw her closer, part of her was actively encouraging it and, without being able to stop herself, she pushed her hips forward so as to impale herself further. The Countess noticed this, looked up at her and smiled, which only added to Sue's mortification and confusion.

But she couldn't help staring at the sight before her. Sue considered herself straight, and watching two women making love would not be her first choice of eroticism. However, the Countess looked superb with her elegant body framed by the satin nightwear and the sight of Trixie's tongue working its magic made her own groin tingle at the memory of when it had been done to her. Moreover, although the Countess's praise of Trixie's skill had been part of the script, that didn't mean that it wasn't true. This was far from the first time that Angela and Fiona had played together for the benefit of a customer and they knew well what turned each other on. Their moves, although choreographed, were based on a very real erotic understanding between them and neither was entirely faking.

Indeed, Fiona was, in a very literal sense, losing the plot. She still had the fingers of her right hand inside the client but any movement there was purely automatic. While she endeavoured to keep her emotional involvement with Angela purely professional one couldn't deny her skills and, truth be told, there had been a certain amount of manoeuvring on Fiona's part to ensure that this scene was part of the script. Revelling in playing the Countess, and allowing her exhibitionist streak to come to the fore, Fiona was enjoying every moment as she raced towards her climax. The moans of pleasure, the way she arched her body, were not faked in the slightest. The only problem was that Angela, who loved giving head as much as Fiona loved taking it, was almost too damn good at her job. According to the script the Countess was supposed to retain an icy detachment at all times and that simply wasn't possible when every nerve in her body wanted to cry out in pure pleasure. As she passed beyond rational she tried to remember not to call out Angela's name, or, if she really had to, to make sure she called her Trixie. And then the last vestiges of control just disappeared. She threw back her head. To hell with professionalism; she had no choice but to go with the flow. A series of strange animal cries came from her mouth as the climax crashed through her body.

For a while the only sound in the room was the gasping of the Countess as she came back down to earth. Trixie still lay between her thighs although she did look up, catch Sue's eye and give her a broad wink.

"Ooh, but you're good," the Countess said at last. "Now come up here and lie next to me. You, girl," she turned to Sue, "go and fetch a damp flannel from the en-suite."

With her hands fastened behind her it was quite a challenge simply to open the en-suite door, let alone find a flannel, rinse it in warm water, squeeze it out and return to the bedroom. When she returned the Countess was still sprawled full length on the bed but now she had Trixie tucked up in the crook of her arm. Sue went over to the bed and half turned so as to offer the flannel to the Countess who took it from her and used it to wipe Trixie's face. There was a tenderness about her actions that came from more than the script and, from Sue's perspective, they looked more like lovers than Mistress and slave, whatever than might mean.

"And would little Trixie like a reward?" the Countess asked.

"Oooh, yes please, Countess!"

"Well, it's only fair that, after you have satisfied me so well, that I return the favour. Would you like that pretty little pussy of yours licked?"

"How could I possibly say no?" Trixie replied.

"Well, Rosalita, get on with it."

There was a moment's pause as Sue digested exactly what the Countess had just said. Apparently returning the favour, in her eyes, didn't mean that she was actually going to do it. Indeed, it was hard to see someone as haughty and arrogant as the Countess performing such an act on a slave so, in that sense, what else had she expected?

And then there was a second pause. All three women knew that this was some sort of Rubicon. So far Sue had had things done to her; now she was to do them to other people. For Fiona and Angela this was just the normal pause before the client plunged further into the fantasy. For the Countess and Trixie this was just an untrained slave hesitant to perform her new duties. For Sue this was just another twist in the madness. 

"Come along, Rosalita," the Countess said, as if to a child. "Don't make me have to punish you."

For Sue it was as if, at this point, it got real. By obeying, by acquiescing, she was giving in, she was accepting her new 'slave' status. On the other hand the Countess had shown how quick she was to anger and, as the shock collar had shown, rebellion and disobedience could have painful consequences. Was this really the time to make a stand? She looked at the Countess but she couldn't hold the gaze and, trying not to let her reluctance show, she went round to the foot of the bed, scrambled up onto it and, as well as she could with her hands behind her back, squirmed and wriggled her way up between Trixie's legs. 

Of course she knew the basics; after all, one woman's anatomy is pretty much the same as another's. Furthermore she had had it done to her, usually by blokes who reckoned that a bit of licking pussy earned them a full blowjob complete with swallow. More pertinently it wasn't that long since Sue had been on the receiving end of Trixie's clever tongue and that memory was still fresh. If she just did to Trixie what she liked being done to her she couldn't go too far wrong. Tentatively she kissed the shaven mount of Trixie's mons, just brushing her lips against the skin, before adding a little tongue. Slowly she grew bolder, her kisses became stronger, she roamed further and, as she ran the tip of her tongue along the grove where the thigh meets the torso she felt Trixie respond. This awoke a daemon within her, a daemon that loved to tease, and she made the whole thing into a game. Keeping, for the moment, away from her final destination, she set out to see what pleased Trixie the most. For starters, If Trixie liked being kissed along that groove then that's what she would do. She tried the same trick on the other side and then explored a little deeper into the groin; she varied the intensity between butterfly kisses and sensuous slides of her tongue and, using the way in which Trixie was responding as a guide, searched out the bits that made her tingle the most.

But Sue knew that all this teasing was just a way of putting off the inevitable. The lips of Trixie's sex were still there waiting for her; a door she had to open, a passage she had to explore. It was time to move on, to bite the bullet, to do as she had been ordered.

If Sue had been apprehensive before it was nothing to how she was feeling now. As she used the tip of her tongue to trace out the contours of Trixie's nether lips they seemed to open for her and, for the first time, she knew the taste of another woman. To her surprise this wasn't as bad as she had feared; on the contrary, now that she was actually doing it, there was something wickedly delicious about the way that Trixie was responding to her tongue. Moreover, even the taste which, a few short hours and another lifetime ago, she would have thought abhorrent wasn't unpleasant at all and was further proof that her teasing had borne fruit.

Although she was concentrating her whole attention on Trixie's sex that didn't mean she had stopped her teasing game. She used her tongue to explore every nook and cranny and, if she occasionally brushed against the inflamed nubbin of Trixie's clitoris then she didn't stay there long. However, when Trixie ordered her, from between clenched teeth, to get on with it, she knew it was time to concentrate on the hub of her pleasure. As Sue concentrated on pleasuring Trixie below the waist, so, further up the bed, Fiona was playing with Trixie above the waist. Partially they had to stay firmly in role. If the client were to look up it was important that she saw a Mistress and her slave sharing a passionate moment. But it wasn't just that. Whatever the true emotional attachment between the two women, they found that the job was simply easier if they pretended it was real. Fiona cupped Angela's breast with her hand and used the tip of her fingers to play with the nipple.

"What a way to earn a living," Angela whispered rather breathlessly in Fiona's ear.

"I gather she's doing OK then," Fiona whispered back.

"She's more than OK, she's good, she's very good, she's...."

Angela was starting to lose control so Fiona kissed her long and hard on the mouth both to enhance the experience and to quell any unfortunate cries that might want to escape.

As Trixie climaxed so Sue had to struggle to stay with her. Trixie arched her back and lifted her hips as she came and, unable to use her hands to hold on with, Sue had her work cut out keeping with her. Then, with an enormous but somewhat stifled groan, Trixie had had enough and rolled sideways effectively throwing Sue off. Panting slightly from the exertion, Sue knelt up and watched as Trixie, still held by the Countess, revelled in her pleasure. Sue felt a certain amount of pride in a job well done. There was no doubt that Trixie had climaxed and that had been entirely down to her. 

"Ooh, thank you, Countess," Trixie said as she cuddled into Fiona once she had recovered somewhat. "Thank you for letting a slave come."

"You're more than welcome, sweetie," the Countess replied "Now I think it's time to put little Rosalita back in her cage and then we'll all settle down to a good night's sleep."

Sue was devastated. Firstly there was the way that Trixie was expressing all her thanks to the Countess. It was as if all her hard work, all the effort she had put in to overcome her squeamishness, was as nought. Meanwhile, what had the Countess done? Nothing! She had never felt so unappreciated. Secondly there was the prospect of going back in the cage. She had hoped that her hard work satisfying Trixie would bring some reward. She was physically and emotionally exhausted and her shoulders ached from the way her wrists were fastened behind her. The Countess's bed was so luxurious, so welcoming, she would have given anything just to be allowed to lie down and stretch out. 

Fiona was watching for, indeed expecting, such a reaction. Like all the cast she had experienced most of what the client was going through, either through other role play scenarios or because the boss insisted that those playing 'owners' should not put the 'slaves' through anything they hadn't experienced themselves. As such she knew that the psychological effects of the cage were far more devastating than the physical effects and that 'the Countess' was being inordinately cruel to order her back in. She watched the client closely, looking for signs, half expecting the 'slow' word but all she saw was tears. Slow word or not, she realised that she had to tread carefully here. She wasn't, by nature, a cruel person but she had to ensure that the client was getting the experience she had paid for.

"Why so sad, Rosalita?" she asked, back in role as the Countess. "Surely you understand that, until you are fully trained, some restraint will be necessary."

"Please, Countess," Sue started but then realised she had broken the 'no speaking' rule.

"It's OK, little one, you may speak," the Countess replied.

"Please, Countess, please don't put me back in the cage," Sue begged, "and please, my arms, my shoulders ache so."

"Are you telling me how I should look after my property?" 

Sue was a little taken aback at being described as property but that was all part of the bizarre world she was now living in. Remembering how she had been berated earlier for not being happy she realised she would have to choose her words with care.

"Please, Countess," she essayed, "I... err... your property wishes to serve you joyfully, wishes to be everything you desire but it's hard, so hard when my shoulders ache so. And the cage, Countess, it is so small...."

Fiona was seriously conflicted. She could hear all too clearly the pain in the client's voice but still she hadn't head either the 'stop' or 'go slow' words. However, whatever the client's wishes, Fiona, along with all the cast, had been well trained in the medical aspects of bondage and keeping the client's wrists constrained would be risking injury. Some sort of compromise was required but she still needed to stay in role as the Countess.

"Have a care, Rosalita, you are testing my patience with your complaining. However, as you are new and as I am not completely heartless, I will free your arms for tonight. Now then, get in the cage before I am forced to punish you for disobedience. Trixie, help her in, will you?"




Mistaken Identity Ch. 01



Janice is treated like a teen

'Welcome everyone, to our Assertiveness Workshop. This is Janice, a new member. Would you like to say why you're here?' Charles asked.

'Err, OK. I'm here to learn, to be, err, more assertive, and less compliant,' she shyly spoke. 

An older man was looking at her with interest, when she admitted to being compliant. He looked like trouble, so she would have to watch herself with him.

'What brought you here, I mean, was there a bad experience that convinced you to improve your attitude?' Roberto asked.

'Well, yes, I guess so. I was on vacation a last week. A bunch of adolescents bumped into me, and tripped me into the pool, where I lost my top. It was highly embarrassing, and of course I was angry with them. I should have done something about it. Instead, I felt foolish, and that it was my fault. I didn't do anything, or say anything, so they treated me as an easy target. I let things get terribly out of hand,' she said.

'You let a bunch of young guys take advantage of you?' Andrew eagerly asked.

'Yes. Err, not exactly, something like that,' she shyly spoke.

It was humiliating admitting to what he was suggesting. Too late now to take it back, as they would think she was covering up a dark secret. Although it was more complicated, it was somewhat true. The grin on his face revealed what he was thinking. The image of those rowdy teenage boys came to mind. The idea of them taking advantage of her, left her moist, and very self-conscious. 

Janice knew it hadn't just got out of hand, the vacation was a complete disaster. Since they arrived home, Bernard, her husband, wasn't talking to her, and she wasn't talking to him. For once, she was trying hard not to capitulate to him. She was hoping this group might help her keep up the resolve to defy him.

***

Janice was fetching the sun cream for her husband, Bernard, from the hotel room, when it happened. It was one of those small mistakes that easily occur, only she allowed it to escalate out of control. They'd had words over forgetting the sun cream, so she hurried back to the pool, wanting to keep him in a good mood. 

Hurrying around a corner of a poolside building, she bumped into a group of rowdy teenagers. In surprise, she backed into one of the hotel entertainers. 

'Sorry, miss,' she automatically said. 

The girl was obviously younger than her, yet she deferred to the tall, well built girl. It was because she wore an entertainers uniform, a sign of authority, and the forceful way she spoke.

'You've just made it. Come on everyone, in the pool,' Helen loudly demanded.

Before Janice could separate herself from the group of eighteen-year-olds, she was nudged, barged, and finally tripped into the pool, to land with an ungainly splash.

'Help!' she gurgled, spitting a mouthful of chlorinated water. 'I can't swim,' she screeched in panic.

'Stand up, stupid,' a girl jeered.

Janice stood up, and immediately squatted down in the water. The top had come loose, and a most dreadful nightmare became real. Her little breasts were uncovered! Although short, she had a perfect body, except her small breasts, which filled her with shame. She scrabbled around in the water, catching sight of the top, only to lose it again, as the others scrabbled for the ball. 

There was no way she could possibly climb out without the bikini top. She was in the pool among uncaring adolescents, being shoved around. They were all younger, yet bigger than her, so she kept out of their way, to avoid being drowned. It was something to be considered, as an alternative to being shamefully discovered. 

Older people were watching them playing, from poolside loungers. Being seen by them, and her husband, would be terribly embarrassing, so she kept low.

The team girl blew a whistle for attention. 'Everyone, out of the water. Quickly!' 

Janice was reluctant. She looked over at Bernard, face down on a lounger, burning. Damn! She needed his help, and badly so. There was no way she could call him, and bring attention to herself. 

As soon as they were married he took over her life, organising everything she did. She never went to work from college, and when they moved closer to his new office, she lost contact with friends. It had been easier to give in, and let him do everything for her, until she hardly made any decisions at all. It was the reason she put up with wearing that padded bikini top, just to keep him happy.

She let out a whimper as her arm was grabbed, and she was pulled from the pool. 

'Come on girl. Where's your top? Silly thing! Don't worry, I've got spare clothing in the club room,' Helen glibly said.

The entertainments girl had mistaken her for one of the group of teenagers, which wasn't unusual, especially as she was dressed in just a pair of brief shorts. Although she was twenty-six, she would be turned away from a bar, partly from only being five-four, but mainly because of a youthful complexion, with a baby face look.

Janice clutched her chest while being pulled along by the annoyingly enthusiastic girl. There was little choice, as the big strong girl had a vice like grip. She was in a daze of anguish. 

There was no way she could walk over to Bernard, or even back to the room, revealing her body to ridicule. Nothing else was in her mind except covering up her small breasts. At least she'd been promised a top. Janice meekly followed, which had always been a bad habit.

They were not alone in the club house. The kids were making a racket in the changing room. Helen had the lucky job of looking after sullen teenagers, though at the moment they were boisterous. Janice could hear the guys in the showers calling to the girls, and one brave girl, or hussy, answering them. 

'Not in there please. Can I get dressed out here, miss,' Janice meekly asked.

It was embarrassing letting the girl think she was a youngster, but it was a way of getting changed away from that rowdy group. Janice was small and waif like, with a personality to match. Unlike some short people she didn't have a loud voice, or a forceful personality. She kept a low profile, not wishing to be noticed.

The thought of joining those big teenagers in the changing room, brought back bad memories of high school.

'No need to be afraid of the big kids, I'm here,' Helen assured her.

Janice was miffed to be mistaken for a teen, even though she was used to it. It would be very embarrassing to admit she was a married woman, after losing her top when playing with those kids. They were around eighteen, and it was annoying that this stupid girl thought she was younger than them.

Helen sat down and pulled Janice in front of her. 'Best get those wet shorts off.' 

Janice became aware of the new cotton shorts. They had shrunk! They were clinging to her like a second skin. She hadn't considered them at all, while consumed with fear over losing the top. Looking over her shoulder she checked everyone was busy in the showers.

'Don't worry girl, they won't bother you,' Helen said, in a condescending tone. 

The entertainment girl was nearly six foot tall, and even while sitting she was taller than Janice. Janice felt overawed by her. She stood there wondering what to do. The bright and breezy girl was always in a hurry, and moved quickly. She grabbed Janice's wet shorts, and peeled them down, with panties tangled in them.

The action seemed natural enough, as though her mother were undressing her. A sudden wave of embarrassment awoke her, as though from a stupor. She became ashamedly aware of being naked in front of a stranger. She felt stupid to have allowed a young girl to strip off her last piece of clothing. She squirmed with embarrassment. She had a Brazilian for the vacation, leaving her feeling especially naked and vulnerable. 

'Come on, don't dawdle, girl,' Helen hurried her.

At least she had the dress ready. It was ruffled up, ready to slip over Janice's head. She had to let go of her chest, to lift both arms straight up. Janice cringed with embarrassment, over showing off her small breasts to a stranger. The dress slipped down her arms to her head. 

An awful feeling of uselessness swept over her, for stupidly letting this girl dress her like a kid. It was typical of her to let someone else take charge, and deferring to other peoples decisions had become a habit. 

'Bugger, it's too small. It looked alright for you. Wait there and I'll get you something else,' she said.

Damn! Wait here? She wasn't going to wander off naked! 

'Oh! Shit! I've lost the room key in the pool!' 

Janice needed to get back to her husband for a key. He would be upset seeing her in those clingy shorts and nothing else. That is, if she could untangle the wet mess that had been her shorts. Oh! Shit! The uncaring girl had wandered off with them!

Janice wondered what was keeping the girl. Every second being naked was grinding away what was left of her self-respect. She imagined the girl telling her there was nothing in her size. Next to the big Nordic blond, she felt like small and pathetic. Especially when Helen had examined her denuded crotch and little breasts, with a look of disdain.

***

Janice imagined being dragged by the hand by that strong Nordic girl, around the pool, back to her husband. With everyone looking at her nakedness, she would keep her head down in shame. Her husband would be livid. 

'Your girl lost her clothes in the pool, playing with the other kids,' Helen would explain, in her loud commanding voice.

Helen still held her hand, so she had to stand naked in front of everyone, sobbing with shame. 

'There, there, it's alright,' Helen said, with a demeaning tone of voice.

Helen popped a sweet in her mouth, and Janice choked on it. She was trying to apologise to her husband, sounding dismal through the sobs, and now lisped around the sweet.

Helen walked off, leaving her sobbing in front of everyone. 

'I'wm, swowwy, I wiwy awm,' Janice heard herself say, and cringed.

'No, don't sit. Stand at attention and tell me what happened,' Bernard ordered.

Her husband was furious and was punishing her with humiliation. 

She could see a couple of the eighteen year old guys ogling her. It was difficult to fool young people into thinking she was a teenager. They guessed she was a grown woman, and made no secret of enjoying her nakedness. 

***

A noise from the showers awoke her from the dream. Janice crouched on the bench, tightly rolled into a ball, trying not to be there.

It was her worst nightmare, being mistaken for a teenager. The respect received in adulthood came automatically to others her age, but she had to work at it. Like a few minutes ago in the pool, one silly mistake, and she was treated like one of the kids, forced to play games.

She looked over to where the noise was coming from with a look of dread. At least she wasn't in there being laughed at, like in high school. Sports days had been a nightmare. It was all very well Bernard mollifying her, by saying she had perfect china-doll skin. She longed to look like a mature married woman, not a doll. 

The noisy teenagers piled into the main room. They were playing a ball game, with a prospect of handling not just the ball, but the girls too. Some of the girls let them. They quietened down to huddle in groups, making war plans. Who fancied whom, and why.

Damn! Why wasn't Bernard here to protect her? She was so used to him making the decisions for them both, it was difficult to know what to do. Here on vacation they were supposed to relax and enjoy the sun, yet on the first day it had already gone badly wrong. She scrunched up on a bench, hoping not to be noticed. 

The two groups of eighteen year olds ignored her. They looked as though they were choosing teams, though it was pairing off with each other they were keenly discussing. 

The damn girl returned, stopped to talk to them, and eventually came over to her. Janice wanted to shout at her to hurry up. She instead sat quietly huddled on a bench, with both arms desperately trying to cover her nakedness. 

To Janice's horror Helen grabbed an arm, pulling her up off the bench. She was standing naked in a room full of strangers! Her mind went blank with fear. Helen was dressing her once more, only this time in front of a bunch of rowdy teenagers.

'Don't cry, I'll soon have you dressed ready to go and play,' Helen said, sounding condescending. 

Janice clenched her fists, and only just held back hot tears of shame. The damn girl was laughing at her small waif like body. With small breasts, and cleanly denuded of pubic hair, she looked like a young teen. Especially to this big boned, Nordic giant. 

She was about to point out she could dress herself, when the guys noticed her, and made the usual disparaging remarks. 

'That one's yours, Billy,' a guy loudly spoke.

'Not for me, she's got no tits,' Billy laughed. 

Janice froze, with mouth firmly clamped shut. She thought she was past all that, after leaving school and getting married. She screwed up her fists, ready to assert she was an adult, and a married woman, not just a kid like them. How could she say anything while naked and vulnerable. They wouldn't believe her, and would make even more fun of the mad girl. 

She waited for the girls to join in, knowing they were the cruellest. To her surprise the girls rallied around to her defence. 

'Leave the kid alone,' one of the girls said.

Helen managed to get the dress over her head this time. They had all seen her bare bottom, and everything else, while being pulled around. She felt like a helpless doll, being dressed by a big strong girl. She wanted to run away crying in shame, like the pathetic thing they thought she was. 

'Don't be cruel you guys. She'll develop soon, and you'll be sorry you made fun of her,' one of the girls scolded them.

Janice wished it were true. She went through this before, hoping every day to grow taller, and for her bust to develop. There was no way she could possibly stand up now and declare she was a mature, married woman. They would just laugh at her. Even if they believed her, it would be unbearable to hear the gossip going around the hotel. 

The insults went on for a moment or two, until they lost interest and started to leave.

'What do you say? For the dress,' Helen insisted.

Janice looked as though she would burst into tears. Nevertheless, she rallied round to do as she was told. 

'Thank you, Miss, for dressing me, and giving me this dress,' Janice said, sounding pathetic.

'You're welcome, young lady,' Helen brightly beamed. 

'Maria, could you fix the girls' hair. It's drying into a mess,' Helen said.

'Like sure, Helen, it'll be fun,' Maria answered.

Two of the girls took hold of her arms, almost dragging her to the changing room, and sat her down on a plastic chair. Her feet swung an inch off the floor, leaving her feeling like a kid sister. They were too strong for her to fight, so as usual she gave in, hoping they knew what they were doing. Her makeup had been washed off in the pool so she needed, 'fixing-up', as they called it. 

The two eighteen year olds were taller with more developed figures, giving the impression they were older sisters. She wished so much to look like them, with a full hourglass figure. It would have helped her confidence, changed her personality, maybe influenced her whole life.

They washed her hair, which at least would cleanse it of the pool's chlorine, and bring back the shine. Shampoo got in her eyes, and the vigorous rubbing flipped her contacts out. They at least looked for them, though they probably trod them into the wet floor.

'I can't see without them,' Janice complained, sounding upset.

'Don't worry, we'll go through the lost property and find you a pair of glasses,' Maria tried to reconcile her.

They were being kind to her, rather than chide her for having a flat chest, as girls had at high school. She settled down under their care, feeling the tension ease. It was nice having them take care of her. She once more felt protected, and left them to decide the hair style. With make-up on, she always felt her age, and properly dressed. 

At last they were finished, and stood back to admire their handiwork. 

'Like great, don't you think?' Maria asked her friend.

'Yea, much better than looking like a drowned rat,' the other girl laughed.

'Thanks, Maria, thanks, Megan. I really appreciate your help,' Janice said. 

She was wondering if this is what it would be like to have sisters. At that moment she felt wonderful. She even enjoyed feeling like a sister to these two big girls.

They brought her a box of glasses form the lost property cupboard, and she tried one pair after another. At last her vision cleared, though not perfectly. She was grateful to be able to walk out of there without bumping into everyone, and everything. 

The warm feeling was still with her, as she accepted their praise.

'You look cute, Janice. It would be fun if you were my sister. I'd fix you up every day,' Maria gushed.

'Thanks. I'd love to be your sister. Are you going to be a make-up artist?' Janice asked.

'Don't know yet, maybe,' Maria said.

The feeling of warmth between them heartened her.

'You should work at it. You can fix me up every day if you like,' Janice offered.

'Like, OK. You can be my sister while at the hotel, alright?' Maria asked.

'Sure, that would be great,' Janice smiled.

Janice walked to the door with them, ready to face the outside world. At last she could get back to her husband, get the key, and change her clothes. As she approached the door a girl appeared in front of her. She stepped to one side, and the girl did likewise. 

'Sorry,' Janice said, to the awkward girl. 

The two big girls laughed at her, seeing Janice apologise to her reflection. She felt a fool speaking to a mirror. She gasped in surprise. The glasses weren't perfect, but she saw enough to find the image disturbing.

Her hair was pulled away from her face and tied in two pigtails, sporting pink ribbons. It was a darker shade of brown, mousy brown she guessed. When she moved her head, the pigtails bounced around over her ears. They had dotted her cheeks with freckles, and she hoped it wasn't the brown hair dye. The heavy black glasses, with thick lenses, made her look geeky. 

The bright pink dress had a band of elastic under her breasts, emphasising a lack of anything much. It flared out from her chest, to float around her thighs. The air conditioning clicked in, with the light breeze ballooning up the light hem, showing off her bare crotch. 

'What, what, have you done to me?' she quietly spoke. 

It wasn't her nakedness that worried her, it was the image that was so gripping. The picture of a girl shook her, leaving her head spinning. It didn't seem real. 

She thought of herself as a mature, adult woman. Since being married she enjoyed the freedom and responsibilities of adulthood. She enjoyed going to dinner parties, the theatre, opera and ballet. She always made a point of dressing in sophisticated clothing to emphasis her age. The sophistication of adulthood had been stripped away, to leave in its place a young geeky teenager. 

'Like, nice. You look so cute, like, yea?' Maria asked, wanting praise for her handiwork.

Janice's hair, make-up, contact lenses, clothes, designer shoes, padded push-up bra, and her status, had been stripped away. It was as though her adult life was nothing more than a fantasy, so as to get through the awkward teenage stage. She had strived to leave that awkward period of her life behind, only for it to be resurrected. 

Instead of an attractive twenty-six year old woman, she saw a geeky girl, looking diffident and gauche. Her significance as a mature woman had been stolen from her by these two girls. They thought they were doing her a favour, by giving her a make-over that would look good on a young girl. 




Mistaken Identity Ch. 01



Instead, they'd made her feel small and insignificant.

'Like, a great look, yea?' the girls fished for compliments. 'You look just like that girl, Candy, on TV!' they told her.

She had no idea who they were referring to. Before she could think what to do, they ushered her out into the bright sunshine. She rapidly blinked her eyes, no longer used to wearing lenses. 

'Hello girls. Helen said Janice was here. Have you seen her?' Bernard asked. 

Janice cringed on hearing his voice. She tried so hard to live up to his expectations. Now he would be embarrassed from the way she looked. She always wore high heels, sophisticated clothes, and was careful with her makeup, so as not to look out of place as his wife. He was five years older, yet now she looked over ten years younger than him. 

He wouldn't see the funny side, he would be furious.

'Here she is, sir. We gave your daughter a makeover. Do you like it?' Maria asked.

Bernard looked at the girl they presented with a look of disbelief. 'Janice?' he lamely asked.

'Sorry, UNCLE. I lost my clothes in the pool, UNCLE,' she said. 

The deception, calling him uncle, was meant to get them both off the hook, until they could get back to the room. Feeling like an idiot could be endured if he was able to see the funny side, and not become angry with her. She silently pleaded that he kept his head, and played along.

'Oh, like, she's your niece. What do you think of the make-over?' the girls again looked for compliments.

'Yes, it's certainly different. Thank you, you've done a great job,' he murmured. 

The two girls walked away happy to have helped, not knowing they had left Janice in trouble with her husband. 

'What do you mean, you lost your clothes in the pool?' Bernard demanded.

'Let's just go back to the room. I'll explain then,' Janice groaned. 

She wanted to shout at him to get a move on.

'Why on earth did you let those girls dress you up like this? You should stick up for yourself and do what YOU want. You're always letting people take the lead. This is what happens when you give in to other people,' he lectured.

Janice felt like pointing out that he wouldn't like it if she put her foot down, and would soon be in a mood if she didn't give in to him.

'So you found her?' Sandra interrupted.

'Yes, Janice, err, my niece,' he hesitantly introduced his wife.

'So it was your niece you were looking for,' the woman cheerily spoke. 'Those pink ribbons in her hair look so cute, and they match the dress perfectly. What an adorable girl,' the woman said, while squinting at her. 

'I was looking for you, and Sandra pointed me in the direction of Helen, the entertainments girl,' he explained to Janice. 

'Now you've found her, we can all go to lunch, I'm starving,' Sandra said, and linked her arm in Bernard's.

'I need to go to my room, to change,' Janice complained.

'You're uncle was worried about you. No wandering off again young lady,' Sandra admonished her. 'This is Roy and Emily, say hello to Janice,' Sandra said, not meaning to be condescending.

'Sorry about mom. She likes children, but can't cope with teenagers. It's annoying how she treats us like kids. Too vain to wear her glasses, so you're a bit fuzzy,' Emily laughed. 'We try and keep out of her way on vacation,' Emily warned.

'Where are you? Are, there you are. Be a good girl and stay close,' Sandra beamed.

Janice was about to slide away from them, only to remember she didn't have a room key. Wandering around dressed like a teenager was embarrassing. At least amongst a family group no one would notice her. The woman grabbed Janice's hand, and moved them all toward the restaurant. 

'Sandra is right, you had better do as you are told, and keep close,' her husband said. He gave her a furtive shrug, and whispered a warning, 'I don't know what you're playing at, but you got yourself into this, so get yourself out of it. Just don't embarrass me.'

Janice was fuming. He could see she needed to change out of the terrible getup, and he certainly knew why. He knew full well how sensitive she was about her age and build. She kept glancing at him with a killing look, only he avoided it. The large busty woman propelled them along to a large circular table. 

A waiter turned up with menus, giving them one each. 

'This is a kids menu,' Janice said, pointing out his error.

'Your uncle isn't going to buy you a lunch you won't eat. I know what they're like Bernard. They see things, but won't eat it once put in front of them. Janice, will have the fish shapes,' Sandra told the waiter.

The woman's two children were laughing at her. What could she do without giving the game away, and showing up her husband. She buried her reddening face behind the menu. She was hungry, and figured after lunch the ghastly family could be left behind, and well forgotten.

Fish shapes duly arrived with fries and beans, and they didn't taste too bad. Roy nudged her elbow, spilling tomato sauce over the table cloth.

'Look what you're doing girl. Is she going through an awkward stage?' Sandra asked. 

Bernard mumbled something in reply, but no-one was listening. 

'Sorry, miss,' Janice murmured.

'Here, try this, it might help,' Sandra ordered.

Janice choked on a mouthful of fries. The woman lifted her chin, and tied a napkin around her neck. She felt as though she were wearing a bib. She was trying to tell Bernard to do something with urgent signals, only he just sat there like a useless lump.

'So where's your wife, at home, leaving you to cope with your niece?' Sandra prompted.

'No wife at the moment,' Bernard said, looking meaningfully at Janice.

'At the moment? Well I'm divorced, so look out Bernard,' she laughed.

Janice was astonished at the woman's audacity. The tasteless woman was flirting with Bernard, in front of her, his wife. Of course Sandra didn't know she was his wife, but it was still infuriating. She kept giving her husband mean looks, only it backfired. He began to flirt right back at the damn woman, in defiance. The fancy cocktails helped him along. 

'Finish up your lunch, Janice, like a good girl. Then you can go and play with the other children,' he smirked.

He gave her a big smile in retaliation to her irritable looks. He was punishing her for getting into the mix-up, and was leaving her to stew in her own mess. The woman's flirting was so outrageously obvious, it seemed comical. He was enjoying it, even though the overbearing woman wasn't his type. Janice sat back to watch the amusing pantomime.

One consolation was that she got to choose a huge ice cream desert. Before she could tuck in, the damn woman grabbed her face.

'Here honey, let me wipe off the sauce,' she said.

Janice felt herself sliding back to a time when her mother did the exact same thing. She looked at the two kids who were smirking at her. They were eighteen, but she was an adult, being treated worse than them. If her husband wasn't going to help her out of this mess, she was going to make the most of it.

She tucked into the ice cream, trying to ignore the woman's incessant chatter.

'Perhaps you would like to escort me to the show tonight, it's supposed to be very good,' the woman said.

At this Janice couldn't help retaliating. She smeared ice cream around her mouth and poked her tongue out at her husband. The other two laughed, attracting the mother's attention, who caught her at it.

'That's enough of that sweetie. You should show your uncle respect. Look at the state of you!' she scolded.

This time the woman pulled her off the chair to wipe her face and dress, where ice cream had dripped. 

'What the heck?' Sandra exclaimed. 

The dress became caught as she was pulled from the chair. Her dress was up, revealing her nakedness. 

'Did you know your niece is running around without knickers?' she asked Bernard, in a scathing tone.

The loudness of her voice was an added embarrassment. Guests would have heard the assertion a few tables away. She was pretty sure the woman's children saw her bare bottom. Others sitting close by had seen her front and back. Well, it wasn't the first time today all had been revealed. Here in a restaurant it was more humiliating, and the woman was broadcasting her shame.

'You must be mistaken,' Bernard whispered. 

He wanted to ignore the unwelcome idea of his wife's bare ass being exposed.

'Look for yourself,' Sandra said. 

Janice was stunned when the woman tugged the dress up around her hips. She stood in the middle of a busy restaurant, showing off her naughty bits. In a panic, she tried to pull away, only to entangle the dress around the woman's hand.

'Bernard! Stop this damn woman, she's making a spectacle of me,' she angrily hissed at her husband.

'That's no way to speak to your uncle, young lady,' Sandra admonished.

Nevertheless the impetuous woman realised what she had done, and pulled the dress into place. With head down, Janice stood in shame. Her husband sat looking stunned, which quickly turned to anger. He glared at his wife, not at Sandra.

'You're too old to run around naked. What happened to your panties?' Sandra demanded.

'Yes, why aren't you wearing panties, Janice?' Bernard asked, with an appalled look on his face.

She couldn't answer, and resorted to a convenient teenage sulkiness.

'Perhaps she wet them,' Sandra whispered. 

Janice closed her eyes tight, and counted to ten.

'That seems likely. Did you pee in your panties, Janice?' Bernard asked. 

Of course he knew she hadn't, but couldn't help digging at her, as a sort of retribution. There was a definite anger in his voice. She was losing the challenge she started, when making funny faces at him. This was going too far. He was pushing her into the mire. She felt like running to their room and packing for home. 

She took a deep breath, and considered the options. He had the room key, and the flight wasn't for another six days. The only way was to brazen it out. 

As soon as possible she would wash out the hair dye, put on a push up padded bra, an elegant dress, high heels, and sophisticated make-up. She knew how to dress to emphasis her adult status, even if her stature let her down. 

It was no good, she couldn't stand any more of this farce. Her temper broke, before the tears had a chance to fall.

'Bernard, just give me the damn room key,' Janice crossly spoke.

'I warned you young lady. You're uncle isn't used to controlling wayward girls, so I will. Alright, Bernard?' Sandra asked.

Bernard had been amused at first, even enjoying her discomfort. Now he was furious to find she was running around without panties. What in hell had she been up to? 

Letting anger get the better of him, he said, 'Yes, go ahead.' 

He hadn't stopped to think what Sandra meant, otherwise he wouldn't have been so quick to agree.

Janice was standing next to the woman, so she had no time to react. She was over the woman's knee, feeling a stinging smack to her bare bottom. If she had run away, there was nowhere to go, though anywhere away from the stupid woman would be fine. 

In a public place, and before her husband, she was being spanked!

'That's for being messy,' she said. 'This is for cheeking your uncle,' she emphasised, with two stinging slaps. Two more slaps, were accompanied by her saying, 'These are for not wearing panties.' 

The woman stood her up, and straightened the dress.

'Now young lady, will you behave yourself?' Sandra demanded.

'Yes, ma'am, sorry, ma'am,' Janice meekly apologised.

There were tears in her eyes, partly from anger and frustration, also from feeling so pathetic. There was no way she was going to chance being spanked again. It was appalling to feel so crushed, and so small. It was no longer a silly ruse to save face. She capitulated to the big strong mother figure, showing it plainly in her voice and demeanour. 

'Apologise to your uncle for being such a naughty girl,' the woman demanded. 

'Sorry uncle, for being a naughty girl, and running around without panties,' she said, in a trembling whispery voice.

Bernard didn't know what to say. He watched his wife being spanked in public, with a plain look of astonishment plastered over his face. At least she hadn't screamed and kicked out, making a bigger spectacle of herself. Those sitting at the tables around them had noticed, but the rest of the restaurant had missed his wife's humiliation. How could he tell Sandra to leave his wife alone, after that. It looked as though Janice didn't want the truth revealed either. 

Emily came back to the table and dangled a pair of panties in her face. It was a surprise, as she hadn't noticed her leaving. It was embarrassing to once more find herself being dressed. She was shoved all over the place, as the woman pulled the panties up her legs. They were too small, which was unusual. 

The woman held up the dress showing off her panties to Bernard. Her son, and others at nearby tables were staring at her. The small panties had been heaved up to fit tight. She could feel a prominent camel-toe where they hugged her pussy. Anyone sitting behind her would have a fine view of her bottom, with the panties splitting her cheeks. Her breasts may be inadequate, but she was proud of her cute, heart shaped bottom, though not enough to show it off in a public place.

'She's a sweet young lady, isn't she Bernard,' Sandra commented.

'Yes, she's a sweet thing,' Bernard returned, sounding resigned.

Her husband no longer sounded angry with her, rather, he looked fed-up and disappointed with her. Again she merely stood there dumbfounded, feeling all the more like a naughty girl.

'Are you a mummy's girl, or a daddy's girl?' the woman asked.

Forced to play along for just a little longer, Janice gritted her teeth. At least the horrid woman had patted down the dress. 

'A mummy's girl,' she answered.

'Oh! That's so cute,' Sandra smiled, and lifted Janice onto her lap.

Janice gaped at her husband, pleading with him to do something. He had punished her by playing along with the charade, and not taking her back to the room. He was bound to say it was her fault for starting it, but enough was enough.

'You see, Bernard. Sometimes you've got to punish them, to enforce limits. Look how well your niece behaves now,' Sandra stated.

The woman hugged her tight, pushing her face into a deep cleavage. Janice was appalled, but she wasn't going to risk another spanking, so tamely sat there.

Bernard stared at her, and shook his head in wonder. His wife's bare bottom had been spanked in front of everyone in the entire restaurant. Now she was sitting on the woman's lap, forced to accept a cuddle. The woman was flirting with her husband and forcing her into a subordinate role. It seemed the dragon had won.

'I think you should thank Sandra for the panties,' Bernard said, while staring her out.

While she was in such a vulnerable position, she had no option except to do as she was told.

'Yes, sir. Sorry for being a rude girl, ma'am. Thank you for the panties, ma'am,' she said, sounding contrite.

She should have been furious with both of them, especially with her husband, for letting the woman humiliate her so badly. The woman had spanked her to keep her quiet, so she could carry on flirting with Bernard. She wanted to laugh at the mixed up situation, only she might become hysterical. The woman would probably slap her, or even spank her again.

Janice sat quietly at the table waiting for them to finish their meal. She dare not move or say a word. She felt ridiculous. The pink outfit and make-up was bad enough. The bitch was trying to steal her husband right in front of her, and all she could do was tamely sit there. It was adding insult to injury. 

'Uncle, can I go and play? Please, uncle,' she demurely asked.

'You sound like a nicely brought up young lady when you behave yourself. Now go and play with my children,' she told Janice. 'Look after Janice you two, I don't want her wandering off and getting lost, like she did before,' Sandra added.

Escaping the woman was a relief.

Emily took hold of a hand, leading her away from the awful situation. As they left the restaurant, Janice felt afraid. She was losing the protection of her husband, her only link to adulthood. Not that he had been of the slightest help at all. She looked up at the girl holding her hand, feeling small and awkward, as though she really was an adolescent.

'I told you to watch out for mom. She goes over the top sometimes. Without her glasses she couldn't see you're the same age as us. We'll stick together and keep out of her way,' Emily promised.

'Thanks, that sounds like a good idea,' Janice agreed. 

She was in a deep funk, trying to come to terms with what happened. It was her worst nightmare, being treated like a teenager. Being spanked in public was the most horrible moment of her life. It would haunt her dreams for some time to come.

'You're about our age aren't you? Over eighteen,' Emily guessed.

'Yes,' she replied.

'She won't wear her glasses, so she took you for being much younger,' Emily said, trying to console her.

'Thanks. How old do I look?' she asked.

'Don't worry, we can see your eighteen, like us. Roy and I are twins,' Emily said.

Janice relaxed with the girl. After all, she was trying to be nice, and making a good attempt at helping her feel better.

'I need to get changed. Damn! I didn't get a key to our room,' she cursed.

'You look alright. Pretty, and cute,' she laughed.

Janice managed to laugh along with her. 'It's really not my style. I guess I'm stuck with it until I can get into my room,' she explained. 

'How did you lose your panties?' Emily asked.

'That would be telling,' she ribbed the girl. 'These panties wouldn't fit you, they're too small. Where did you get them?' she asked.

'From the lost property bin,' Emily laughed. 'Sorry!'

'Yuck! This dress came from there. At least they're clean,' she said.

'You're not a girl, you're a woman, aren't you,' Emily said.

'How do you know?' she prevaricated.

'There's something about you. Despite what happened you have confidence,' Emily thought out loud.

'I'm not feeling confident inside. I feel weak and pathetic, for letting all that happen,' she admitted.

'Stick with us, and we'll have some fun. Here we are,' Emily announced.

It didn't look much. They walked into a darkened room, with teenagers milling about. A group of guys looked them over. 

'Look after her while I get a drink ,' Emily told her brother.

He didn't look as though he could look after himself, let alone anyone else.

'Here, try this,' Emily said.

Janice smelt the familiar odour of alcohol in the orange juice. She needed it right then, to wash away the bad taste of lunchtime. She downed the vodka and held out the plastic cup for another.

'Here, take mine,' Roy said. 

It was the first words she heard him utter since they met. She looked him over, seeing a nice young man. He was well built, with a deep tone to his voice. He gave her the once over in return, but didn't seem impressed.

A group of guys walked over, with a swagger suggesting they owned the place. 

'Hi you two, haven't seen you in here before,' one of them said to Janice.

The vodka hit her brain, numbing the chance of a snappy reply. A put down was forming in her mind, but refused to reach her mouth. What kind of vodka was in that juice?

'She's with Roy. I'm not with anyone,' Emily brazenly told them.

The older one of them, obviously the leader, pointed to the others, and they drifted away. One of them stayed to chat with Emily. She flashed her eyes at him, determined to try out her flirting techniques. 

'That leaves you and me,' the leader of the gang said.

It sounded more like a threat than a welcome. 




Mistaken Identity Ch. 01



'I'm with Roy,' Janice nervously spoke. 

The young guy was tall and mean looking. She would have the confidence to see him off, when dressed in a business suit, with make-up and high heels. Dressed like a teen, in flats, she felt small and vulnerable. She wrapped an arm around Roy, pulling him tight. Roy flinched, as though wanting nothing to do with her.

'Doesn't look like it to me,' the rough looking yob said.

'We had an argument, but we're going to make it up,' she stammered.

Janice was desperate. She reached up to Roy and kissed him. The guy folded his arms, and gave her a sideways grin. He didn't believe her, and wasn't going anywhere. 

She put her arms around Roy, and smooched him full on. Feeling his tongue enter her mouth wasn't what she wanted, but she would have to put up with it. He took his time kissing her. It was nice, despite him only being eighteen. The kiss wasn't hurried, or fumbling with inexperience, and his lips were dry. His lips were soft, and he didn't choke her with his tongue.

His arms were holding her, not groping as might be expected of a teenager. Her body began to tingle all over. The vodka was strong, and she wasn't used to drinking. Unable to get served in a bar, or restaurant, had put her off alcohol altogether. Just in case the guy was still there, she continued kissing him. Kissing him back to keep his interest was necessary; wasn't it?

She began to question what in hell she was doing! Out the corner of an eye, she could see Emily smooching a boy. It was like being back in high school, only she wasn't being left out. It was no longer her being left on the bench. She kissed him with a little more enthusiasm, and didn't complain when he gently held her bottom. He pulled her tight against him, and their bodies almost became one. They were closely writhing together, slowly, but surely, and passionately. 

He bit her lips and kissed her neck, while she kissed his. He ground his hardness against her. She knew she should stop this, but the tingling sensation had turned to passion. Even more reason to stop, though making it all the more difficult. They were only kissing. It was better than letting that big rough guy haul her off somewhere. The thought of being led away by the bad boy gang leader, stoked her up.

Roy's hands slid up the dress, to cup her cheeks. She would have to put a stop to that; eventually. A little more playing around would be alright, just to make sure that ruffian left her alone. The tight panties couldn't be pulled down easily, so she let his hands wander. 

Damn! There was no excuse! She was a married woman letting a guy fondle her.

His hands were tenderly stroking her bottom. It was so delicious she couldn't stop it. Her breathing came in gasps. Her heart was pounding. It hadn't felt like this since the early days with Bernard. Not that she dare think of that, or him. She was on tiptoe, held up by a strong young man, with his arms engulfing her. 

She didn't feel pathetic, or vulnerable now. 

'You've had your turn, now fuck off,' the ruffian said. 

He'd returned with a couple of friends. 

They leered at Janice, thinking she was a little slut. She had behaved that way, so must be. 

'I told you to move it,' he repeated.

He grabbed Janice, wrapping an arm around her waist. 

'Go get Bernard,' she yelped. 

She hoped Bernard would still be at the restaurant, as it didn't look as though this nasty lout was going to wait around. She'd read about gang sluts in a Sunday magazine. They were either girls joining a local gang, or were forced into it. The gang members would share the girl, using her to satisfy their lust. After awhile, the girls became used to it, and no longer tried to get away from the gang. Being a slut became a way of life.

A look of fear crossed her face. She wondered how long it would take her to become a slut, and accept it as a way of life. A less discernible emotion replaced the fear. It revealed arousal, from the thought of being carried off, and used. She was a little drunk and very stoked up by Roy. That was a poor excuse for the naughty fantasy.

Roy pushed at one of the boys, or so it seemed, when the boy fell backwards. Another crack at the second one, and he too went tumbling. The arm movement was too quick to properly see. He turned toward the leader, who was still holding Janice, with strong arms wrapped tight around her. The guy stopped kissing her neck when Roy took a step toward him. The guy pushed her toward Roy, and backed off. His two friends sidled away.

Janice grabbed hold of Roy, and reached up to kiss him. 

'Thank you Roy, thank you so much. I thought they were going to carry me away, to be a gang slut, or something,' she said, on a heaving breath. 

Perhaps she should have kept quiet about the fantasy. She was nevertheless very pleased to be rescued. At last someone big and strong was looking out for her, which she badly needed. She swayed a little, from the shock, and the vodka. A heady mix.

'I don't think so,' he frowned.

'I read about it. They grab girls, and force them to be gang sluts,' she spouted.

He didn't remind her they were just families on vacation at the hotel, and not a mean gang from the wrong side of the tracks.

She reached up for another kiss. He gripped her tight, lifting her off the ground, smooching her for even longer than before. She was breathless, and still thankful for his manly rescue.

'Come on you two, were going,' Emily told them, with a dig in Janice's ribs.

The two love birds pulled their heads apart, not their bodies. Janice saw in his eyes a look of admiration, if not love. They sparkled dangerously. He tenderly kissed her lips, and she wondered if she had that same silly look on her face. The feeling that he was her hero was difficult to shake off.

Coming up for air, Janice asked. 'Who's your new friend?' 

'Andrew. He's a good kisser, but too grabby. He might do, I'll see,' Emily grinned.

'Did you see what your bother did?' she enthused.

'I told you he would look after us. He's a black belt in something or other, some foreign word,' Emily said.

Roy lifted his eyebrows, but said nothing, as usual.

Janice slipped her arm around his waist, and was pleased to feel him hold onto her. It wasn't just because she was unsteady on her feet. The four of them walked arm in arm as couples. The sun was setting, throwing shadows and dappled light through the trees. Tiny fairy lights flickered on in the trees, adding to the romantic scene.

Damn! What in hell was she doing? Kissing a boy might be justified, to get back at her husband for letting her down this afternoon. Leading on such a nice boy as Roy, was all wrong. He took a firm grip of her waist, and followed his sister with her new boyfriend. It was getting dark, and they were walking hip to hip toward the sound of loud music. 

'We'll find those two and get the room keys,' Emily said, over her shoulder. 

Janice was linked up with a boy, and it felt right. The four of them were sharing a romantic evening, like a prom night, or holiday romance. A slight shiver ran down her spine. When she thought of what her husband was going to say, she heavily sighed. He would call her stupid, and justifiably so. She would have to let Roy down carefully, after that moment of madness in the youth club. Putting off the moment, she continued to enjoy his arms engulfing her, feeling safe and comforted at last. After the horrible experience at lunchtime, she needed someone to care for her.

Emily looked over the crowd, trying to spot her mother, and Bernard. 

'There they are,' she pointed.

Janice was a bit wobbly, but focused enough to spot them. They looked a little fuzzy through the glasses. They were sitting close, and the woman was talking in his ear. It was a noisy show, but Janice didn't have to like how close they were. They laughed together, and the woman gave him a peck on the cheek. He kissed her back. Damn! The hussy had been flirting with her husband all afternoon, and now the bitch was moving in on him. 

'I'm going to watch the show,' Janice said.

The others shrugged and followed her through the crowd. There were no seats near her husband, and no-one was giving way. A couple told them to go down the front, where the kids sat on the floor. Janice grimaced, but let Roy pull her through the throng. Bernard was sure to see her in the damnable pink dress, and would have to behave himself.

They made a space for themselves, and sat down. Janice turned around and scowled at her husband, but he was too engrossed with the flirty woman. He could hold his drink, though it looked as though they had continued after lunch, and were still knocking them back.

Emily nudged her, putting a plastic cup in her hand. In a temper she downed it, and choked. 

'What the hell was in that?' she demanded.

'Strong Polish Vodka, like the others,' Emily grinned. 'We were supposed to share it,' she added.

Janice felt it hit, adding to the already heady feeling. She tried to turn around to spy on her husband, only to heavily fall against Roy. He put an arm around her to steady her. 

'I'm drunk,' she murmured. She snuggled into his arms, with her head resting on his shoulder.

'I can see that,' he said.

He pulled her tight, and kissed her, exploring her mouth with his tongue. When he came up for air, she tried to tell him something.

'We shouldn't be doing it,' she slurred.

'We're not doing IT,' he pointed out.

She giggled, and let him kiss her again. 'This will teach him to flirt with that nasty woman,' she murmured. 

Roy pushed a hand up the dress while kissing her. As a married woman she shouldn't be kissing anyone, let alone a teenager. As an adult woman she should have been prepared, and easily able to deal with him. It wasn't just a lack of experience, from only having Bernard as a boyfriend, and then as her husband. Nor was it a need for settling a score with him, for kissing that woman. There was something else going on, other than the alcohol muddling her mind.

'Come on you two, we had better get back,' Emily said. 

She'd got a key from her mom, while Roy and Janice were busy wrapped up in each other. Andrew, the new boyfriend, quietly tagged along.

Janice was too far gone to see Bernard and the woman eyeing each other up, preparing to make a move. Emily and Roy pulled her through the audience, and half carried her to their room. 

'Shush, keep quiet,' Emily warned her.

Janice giggled, and with her back to the door, kissed Roy goodnight. She relaxed what little guard she still had, now that she was safely back. Just a kiss to thank him for saving her from those rough boys, and then a retreat to safety into her own room, at last.

'If my uncle can make out with your mom, then I can with you,' she giggled.

Emily shook her head and rolled her eyes in exasperation. She reached behind the silly girl and opened the door. Roy and Janice tumbled in, still holding on to each other. 

'Help me get her undressed,' Emily said. 'Andrew, my room's in there.'

'Leave me, I can get undressed,' she mumbled, and fell laughing onto the bed.

'Take her to your room, I'll be in trouble when mom gets in,' he said.

'I'll be busy,' she leered at her brother.

Emily figured her mother wouldn't be back tonight. He wasn't complaining very much either. The girl was drunk, and Emily didn't want Janice peeing on her tonight. Besides, she had plans with Andrew.

'Are you on the pill? Alright then. Do you want to stay here in Roy's bed?' she heavily asked.

'Mmm, yes, Roy can look after me,' Janice sighed.

Janice's eyes were closed but she was still functioning, just about. Just to make sure, Emily asked again. 

'You OK, sleeping in Roy's bed?' Emily asked again, to make it clear.

'Mmm, yes, sure,' Janice answered, with a slur.

'Don't wake me till ten,' Emily said, and sloped off. 

She peered back at her brother, and shook her head. He was standing there wondering what to do with the silly girl. She wasn't going to give him a diagram. All that would happen is that he would wake up in a pool of piss. 

'You OK?' Roy asked. 

'Cuddle me,' she demanded.

He slipped his clothes off, except for his shorts, and pulled the sheets over them. 

He nervously put his arms around her waist, and she snuggled up. He had never had a girl in his bed, or even been this close to one in just her panties. His cock was hard, and of its own violation, nestled against her bottom. Realising how close it was to her naughty bits, he needed to pull away. He froze on feeling her push back upon him. 

She wriggled as though getting comfortable, maybe not wanting to feel his hardness digging into her. She put a hand behind her, and wrapped it around his cock. It was still tucked away in his pants, but no less thrilling to have someone else's hand gripping it for a change. She moaned, wriggled some more, and pulled it out. Her hand was now wrapped around his cock, for real!

He moved his hands up to her breasts to cup them. He gently played with them, rolled her nipples, and kissed the back of her neck.

His cock knew what to do, even if he didn't. He pushed forward, sliding it between her panty clad cheeks. She squirmed around, until his cock slipped further down. He wasn't aware of pressing it against a sensitive place, but she was. 

Janice mumbled something. It was meant to be words of forgiveness to her husband. She wanted him to forgive her, and was offering herself in compensation. She didn't want that horrible woman to have him. She needed him. She reached between her legs and pulled the panty crotch to one side. She manoeuvred herself against him, trying to capture his penis. He wasn't helping, and for an awful moment she thought he didn't want her.

Her head was like cotton wool. She couldn't think, or work out why he wasn't taking her. She was offering herself to her husband, and he was rejecting her! He must still be angry with her. 

'Please, make love to me, darling,' she slurred. 

Roy didn't believe what he was hearing. He pushed forward, feeling her wet flesh, guessing it must be her sex he was pushing against. He was unsure if he was taking advantage of her, and certainly didn't want to do that. From the moment that guy tried to pull her away from him, he felt a connection. She kissed nice too. There was a certain something about her, as though she was older, with experience of life. She was enchanting.

Feeling his cock part her lips was delicious. She pressed back, pushing herself upon him, capturing the head of his cock. A strong desire of wanting to feel full of his cock was overpowering. When he slammed into her she cried out. He was squeezing her breasts, which she didn't like, as it reminded her how small they were. 

His pace was fast and furious, instead of careful and tender. He was punishing her for being such a stupid woman. Did he know that she had smooched that boy? Her body and mind caught up with the enthusiastic screwing. She began to pant in time with his thrusts. She moved her hips slightly for a different angle, and gasped. His cock was rubbing her g-spot with every deep thrust!

'Keep going, fuck me hard, darling, I'm nearly there,' she whimpered. 

She felt him spurt his cum, and it felt like a gallon of precious fluid filling her up. An orgasm flooded through her body, from deep inside her belly, out to her fingers and toes. Her nipples were so tender his grasp lit them up. It felt as though fireworks were going off in her head. 

It was an unusual feeling to enjoy having her breasts fondled. They were usual off limits to Bernard. She lay there passively enjoying to afterglow of a wonderful orgasm. She shut out the awful day, and refused to think about how she was going to get through the next six days.

For a split second she sobered up, then passed out.

Roy cuddled her, with a delightful smile on his face. This was his first time, and he was deeply in love. He would look after her, and keep her safe. He rubbed his cheek against her back, and kissed her. He wanted to laugh out loud, and jump for joy, but kept still and quiet in case he woke her.



Mistaken Identity Ch. 01



"But sweetie we shouldn't," I said as she drew my hands near enough to feel her body warmth.  

"Go ahead daddy touch them," Christina moaned as she placed her breasts in the palms of my hands.

"Oh God," we both moaned simultaneously as she slid her hands on top of mine and squeezed, causing my hands to grip my daughter's breasts.

Christina raised her hands to my face and cupped my cheeks as she slowly began to guide my face to her beautiful tits.  Using my thumb I began to press on her nipples and work circles around her areolas causing her to cry out in passion.

"Oh yes daddy," my daughter cried out as she pulled my face into her bosom.  

Suddenly I found my face in my daughter's cleavage as she used her arms to press her breasts together.  I still had my hands on my daughter's breasts, cupping them as I began to gently kiss her mounds.  The soft flesh of Christina's breasts and the feel of her body heat felt so inviting as I kissed my way closer to her nipple.  

"Oh suck my nipples daddy," my daughter panted as I slid my tongue over her areola and across her nipple.  

Christina let out a squeal as I placed my lips over her taught bud and sucked.  Her nipple stiffened even more against my tongue as I rapidly flicked my tongue over the her sensitive bud.  I bit lightly on my daughter's nipple causing her to scream as she wrapped her legs around me tightly.  

"Oh daddy, don't stop," Christina moaned as she finally removed her hands from my face.  I removed my mouth from her saliva coated nipple and pushed both of her soft young breasts together until both of her nipples were touching.

"Please daddy," Christina begged as I looked into her lust crazed eyes.  

"Please suck them both" she moaned as she leaned her head back in ecstasy.

Her nipples looked incredible as they were touching themselves.  I lowered my mouth to my daughter's young breasts, sucking both nipples into my mouth at once.  

"Holy fuck," my daughter moaned as I sucked and licked both of her nipples at the same time.

Using my teeth I scraped her sensitive buds until I felt her place her hands on my face.  Ever so slowly my daughter began to push my head from her breasts down toward her stomach.  I felt her stomach begin to quiver as I kissed and nibbled my way toward her navel.  I paused there for a moment and swirled my tongue around her navel until I was again nudged lower by her hands.  Suddenly I began to tremble as my lips touched the top edge of her thong.

"Oh baby we can still stop," I said softly as I kissed her bush through her thong.  

Looking up into my daughter's eyes she smiled and said "But you don't want to daddy."

Again I felt Christina place her hands around my wrists as she placed my hands on her hips where her thong was tied together.  I slowly wrapped the ties of her thong around my finger and pulled, causing her thong to become untied.  

Using my teeth I bit the top of the material and pulled the material down exposing her neatly trimmed bush.  At the bottom of my daughter's bush was the treasure I was waiting for.  Her young  pussy was swollen and wet.  Her lips were puffed outward and parted as they glistened in the light.  I could smell my daughter's scent which caused me to drip pre cum onto the carpeting below.  

Again Christina placed her hands on my face.  Our eyes met and neither one of us could stop now, even if we wanted to.  Slowly my daughter began to guide my mouth closer and closer to her cunt.

"Oh daddy go ahead," Christina panted as she looked into my eyes as she placed my mouth on her wet sticky pussy.

Christina began to moan as she fell onto her back as I began to snake my tongue into her slippery cunt.  

"Oh my God daddyyyyy," Christina moaned as she spread her legs even wider allowing me even easier access to her swollen wet pussy.

"Oh God eat me daddy," Christina began to moan over and over as she began to squirm on the mattress.  

I reached up and placed my hands on her hips to try to steady her as she squirmed on my mouth.  I could taste her juices as her cunt was wetter than my wife's ever got.  I began to lightly flick my tongue around her clit eliciting even deeper more carnal moans.  Her clit swelled to a length much longer than her mother's and I placed my lips directly on it and sucked.

"Mmmmmm I'm gonna cum daddy," my little girl moaned as she continued to thrash about on my bed.  

Suddenly I felt Christina tense up as her legs wrapped around my neck like a vice.  My little girl began to shake and tremble as she exploded into an orgasm on my mouth.  

"Oh my fucking Goddddddddd," my daughter cried out as I felt her cunt begin to flood my face.  

Her panting, thrashing, and screaming nearly caused me to cum as I knelt between her soft legs.  Again my daughter reached down and pulled my head into her, smashing my face into her sopping wet cunt.  

Finally after several minutes Christina slowed down.  She released her grip around my neck as she spread her legs wider.  Our eyes became locked together as we both had a lust crazed look in our eyes.  

"Make love to me daddy," my little girl mouthed to me as she still laid on her back with her legs still dangling over my shoulders. 

Slowly and with our eyes still glued to each other's I rose to my feet with my daughter's calf's resting on my shoulders.  I pulled her back a bit until her ass was at the edge of the bed.  Looking down into my daughter's eyes I slowly leaned forward until my cock was twitching just outside the entrance of her cunt.

"Fuck me daddy," Christina said softly as she reached up and squeezed her breasts with me towering over her.  

Ever so slowly I pressed my cock against my daughter's pussy lips until I felt her cunt begin to part open

"Oh daddy your so big," Christina hissed as she slid her legs down my arms, wrapping them around my waist.

Looking over in the mirror I was breathless as I saw the image of my own daughter's legs wrapped around my waist while I gently made love to her.  

"Look at me daddy," Christina said as she reached up and turned my face toward hers as I continued to thrust my swollen cock in and out of her tight wet hole.

"Fuck me," Christina said as she reached onto the night stand and picked up a candle that had been burning.  

"Fuck me daddy," Christina said softly as she reached out and offered me the candle.

I suddenly stopped fucking my daughter but remained buried deep inside of her.  I took the candle in my trembling hand and looked down into my daughter's eyes.  

"Oh daddy do it," she cried out as I felt her tight cunt continuing to grip at my cock as I remained buried deep inside.

I tilted the candle until the melted wax was at the edge of the candle.  Looking down into her eyes she licked her lips and nodded her head.  Ever so slowly I tilted the candle until the wax dripped down onto her soft breast.

"Usssshhhh" my daughter inhaled sharply as she reached up and smeared the molten wax around her breast with her finger.

I dripped more wax only this time I dripped it closer to her nipple.

"Ugggghhhhh" Christina cried as the wax trickled down between her heaving breasts.

Again she raised her finger to her breast and smeared the hot molten wax around her breast.  Again I tipped the candle, this time bathing her nipple with the hot wax.

"Oh Jesus Christ dad," Christina screamed out as her nipple sprung way out, farther than when I bit on them.  

I glanced over to my side and reached for the tub of ice cubes.  I took an ice cube between my fingers and while she smeared the wax around her elongated nipple, I placed the ice cube directly on her swollen bud.

I tilted the candle over her other breast.  The look in my daughter's eyes was that of pure lust.  Just then I tilted the candle and trickled hot wax onto her breast just as I pressed an ice cube onto her nipple.

"Oh my fucking Godddddd," Christina screamed as her hips began to thrust up and down, fucking me while I stood over her.  I set the candle down on the night stand and left the container of half melted ice cubes on the bed.  Reaching up, Christina pulled herself all the way up and kissed me with passion like I haven't seen since I was her age.

With her hand gripping my neck, her hips continued to thrust against my impaling cock.  She kissed me again before looking directly in my eyes.

"Fuck me like you fuck mom," Christina said as she let go of my neck and fell onto her back in front of me.

I leaned down and placed my hands next to her head as I braced myself.  

"Fuck me daddy," Christina hissed as she was already doing a pretty good job of fucking me. 

I continued looking into my little girl's eyes as I began to rock my hips back and forth.  The feeling of her shoes digging into my lower back heightened the sensations I was experiencing as I was nearing another orgasm.  

"Ohh Ohh Ohh Ohh Ohh Ohh," Christina moaned over and over as she began to bounce up and down beneath me.  

"Oh daddy you little girl is gonna cum," Christina screamed as I felt her begin to buck against my cock even harder.

I felt her pussy clamping down around my cock as my little girl began to quiver and shake.  She thrashed her head from side to side as she bit her lower lip, the whole time her eyes rolled into the back of her head.  

"Oh my God I'm gonna cum again daddy," Christina moaned as she squeezed her long legs around my waist even tighter. 

I could feel her juices flooding her pussy as my cock slid in and out easily.  I increased my tempo even faster causing one long continuous moan to escape her lips.

"Daddyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy," Christina moaned as her young body thrashed out of control.

Looking down at my little girl, her eyes were nearly closed as she continued to tremble and shake.  I could feel her begin to slow down as she released her legs around my waist and pushed me back.  Christina jumped up and got on all fours with her knees at the edge of the bed.  Her shoes fell to the floor as her feet dangled off of the edge of the bed.

Looking back over her shoulders Christina said "Fuck me like you fuck mom."

I couldn't believe my ears as my daughter reached behind her and spread her ass apart for me.  I reached down and held on to her soft warm hips and quickly pushed my member into her now gaping pussy.

"Oh God daddy, I know this is how you like to fuck mom," my daughter said as she began to thrust back at my cock.  

"Oh daddy fuck me with that big cock," she said as she held on to the bed and pushed herself back at me even harder.  

I knew I wasn't going to last long as my toes began to tingle and my nuts began to ache.  The sound of my hips slapping against my lovely young daughter's ass was like the sound of a symphony.  

Christina and I both began to grunt as we watched ourselves in the mirror.  We both knew we were doing the unthinkable, the unimaginable.  As I fucked my daughter from behind I watched her tits in the mirror as they swung back and forth.  

"Oh my God I'm gonna cum," my daughter screamed as she began to gasp and shake.

"Oh daddy" She moaned out as she gripped the sheets in a clenched fist.  

Christina lowered her head into the mattress as she panted and moaned.  Her young body shook out of control as she climaxed over and over.  

"Oh daddy, I'm cumming again," she cried out as a sheen of sweat coated her body.  

I too began to sweat as I continued to pound my daughter's pussy from behind.  

"Baby, your gonna make daddy cum," I shouted as I was beginning to feel my nuts contract.  

"I'm protected daddy, I want to feel you cum inside me," Christina moaned as she continued to push her ass back at my thrusting cock.

That was all the encouragement I needed as my balls began to contract.

"Oh Christina here it comes," I shouted as the first wave of contractions sent cum racing up my shaft and into my daughter's wet pussy.

"Oh daddy, that's so good" Christina said as she now held herself still allowing me to finish cumming inside her.  

I began to grunt over and over as every nerve in my body was electrified.  My balls pumped all of my cream deep into my daughter's tight cunt as she continued to watch us in the mirror.  

"Mmmmmm daddy that was wonderful," Christina said as she slowly pulled off of my rapidly deflating cock.  

Christina looked at me and giggled causing me to relax a bit and giggle as well.  Suddenly there was a noise and we both looked at each other.  Christina and I both looked at the clock and then back at each other.

"Mom's home," we both shouted as we jumped up from the bed! 

"Shit" I said as I reached for the candles to place them in the correct spot.  

Christina ran and picked up her bikini and shoes, running to my wife's closet to place the sexy heels where she got them.  She took a couple of steps toward the door before running back to the bed to grab the bottle of champagne.  I quickly grabbed the glasses and when I turned around I stood face to face with my naked daughter.  

Christina and I shared one quick kiss as if we were saying thank you to each other before she ran down the hall to her room.  I quickly picked up the wine glasses and ran into the bathroom to take a shower.  Just as the bathroom door closed behind me, The bedroom door opened and my wife was home.

Thank you for reading my story.  Please send me your feedback about what you liked best or maybe least.  Would you like me to continue this into a series?  Also I am curious as to who is reading my work.  In your feedback if you would be so kind as to tell me your age and sex I would appreciate it.  It is useful to help write future editions.  Again thank you.