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Wheals of Fortune Ch. 01

By: Calandria



Everyone who figures in this fantasy is over 18 – and so must you be, to read it! There is a website that offers cash to young women for caning – it isn't called 'Rear Wheals' – though that's a pity. 

*

My finances, to put it mildly, were at a low ebb. I had foolishly invested in an apartment I thought I could afford, bought a car which was going to keep me in debt for just about the rest of my life, as far as I could see – and all because of Paul.

Where was he now? Fuck knows, but he'd gone, anyway, and, frankly, I didn't care where – just so long as he didn't come back. But I did care about being in debt.

'You'll be OK,' he'd said, 'no sweat, Julie, honest, they'll just love you! Fifty grand a year, more in no time at all, you'll see.'

Yeah, I saw all right. The film company who were bound to 'love me' had gone down the toilet, together with the film I had auditioned for, and where was my half-completed course at drama school going to get me now?

Where I was, at that moment, trying to make impossible figures stack up, was in the grotty office of a big video rental empire, which had thirty stores in nearby towns.

'What's up, sweetheart?' asked Carla, my work-colleague, a spiky-orange-haired, much-pierced Goth wisp of a girl in a black shift over black tights, 'you look proper pissed-off!'

'I am, Carla,' I said, and gave her a brief run-down on my fiscal status.

'Shit!' she said, then went off to answer the phone.

When she came back, I was filing away papers.

'Hey, Julie,' she said, 'can you stand having your arse caned?'

'What sort of a question is that?' I asked.

'No,' she said, 'I'm serious. Do you think you could stand your arse being caned – hard?'

I looked at her earnest little face and burst out laughing.

She turned half away. 'If you're not going to take my question seriously, I'm not going to try and help you,' she said, 'only I know how you can earn five hundred dollars in a single day.'

She suddenly had my attention.

'For having my arse caned?'

'Yes,' she said.

'You're not serious, really!'

'Never been more serious. There's this web-page that pays ten dollars a stroke, plus travelling expenses. Minimum ten strokes. They only want attractive women – I reckon you'll do.'

'Gee thanks!' I said, sarcastically, then: 'you into all that stuff, then, Carla? I suppose you must be, or you wouldn't know about it.'

'Me and Mark, we belong to a BDSM Club, like,' she said.

'Oh!' I replied, and just then, we were interrupted by the boss, who rang to ask for some figures.

After lunch the same day, Carla called me over to her desk, and after looking furtively around to make sure the doors were all shut, she said, 'here's that web-site I told you about.'

A series of small photos showed a powerfully-built but attractive forty-something woman in a skimpy silk dress laying into the naked buttocks of a young woman with a thin cane. Her flesh was streaked with red wheals.

'Those wheals could be faked,' I observed.

'Wait!' said Carla, and typed in a password. The screen went blank for a few moments, then the film started. A different young woman, this time slimmer and younger than the first, undressed, removing her skirt and panties sexily for the camera. She got down on all fours on a mattress, and the same older woman appeared, now in a black dress and boots. She immediately started to lash the young girl's arse hard with a thin cane, causing red wheals to be raised, and the girl to scream at each stroke.

When she had given her about twenty strokes, I thought, she threw down the cane, and walked away, leaving the girl writhing on the mattress.

'Now you can see it's not faked,' said Carla.

The oddest thing was, that I noticed that not only was I feeling agitated, but when I returned to my desk and at down, my panties were soaking.

Nothing further was said that afternoon, and we were too busy to talk about what I had seen.

Next morning, before I set of to work, the postman came, and what he brought with him was not very pleasing – a bill for my car-insurance renewal, half as much again as I had hoped for. I was in deep shit.

Carla had a coffee for me when I got to the office.

'You gonna do it then?' she asked, and I knew what she meant without her having to explain.

I nodded, and she came around the desk and kissed me, bringing an odd scent of musk all her own.

'Come on then, and sign up,' she said, 'all you have to do is send them an email.'

'Hang on a minute,' I procrastinated, 'are you into this stuff, Carla?'

'Not exactly,' she said, and hesitated, then said, 'come with me!' and headed for the toilet. I followed her in there, and as soon as I was inside with her, with no trace of shame, she lifted her shift up over her head.

I was taken by surprise, to say the least. What I had assumed to be her black tights were, in fact, hold-up stockings, and she was completely naked as she stood with her pale back to me. And her back was patterned with a crazy criss-cross of red stripes, all the way from just below her shoulder-blades to just above her buttocks. Slowly, she turned to face me, and her face had an odd, almost defiant expression, but my gaze was drawn downwards, to where three more livid red welts showed, just above firm young breasts.

'Now you see,' she said simply. She was putting her dress back on, and, as she did so, I caught the glint of metal from just below her clean-shaven mound. She was obviously pierced in more places than could normally be seen!

I looked around to check that no-one had come in when we went back into the office. We were alone.

'And Mark did that to you?'

'Most of it, yes,' she replied, enigmatically.

'But….but, it must hurt?'

'Of course, but sometimes I cum just thinking about it, even before he puts my nipple clamps on.'

'Nipple clamps? Oh shit, Carla, what the fuck are you?'

'I'm a slut, Julie. I'm getting wet just talking about it to you!'

At that moment the phone rang, and we then got busy for a time, with calls and paperwork, but every time I looked across at Carla, I saw her with new eyes, now knowing she was naked under her dress, and wondering what it felt like. I toyed with the idea of giving it a try.

When things quietened down at lunchtime, Carla came over to me.

'Well?' she said.

'OK,' I replied, and let her enter the webpage again. I did so desperately need the money, and couldn't believe the caning would hurt that much. I had plenty of my photos stashed away in my disc, and sent one off with a request to join in their programme as soon as possible. Immediately I got a reply saying they would phone me to make an appointment in the next few days.

That evening, I told Carla I wanted to stay a bit later, to write a few personal letters. After she had gone, I 'Googled' BDSM sites, totally fascinated by what Carla had told me, and also my reaction to it. There was an awful lot of rubbish, and posed pictures, which did nothing for me at all, but I was captivated by a website called 'Slave Girls in Love' – it featured pretty young girls being subjected to cruel tortures by their masters – and apparently enjoying the experience. I found other sites, too, including ones looking for 'submissives,' and offering serious money. I surprised myself, not for the first time in the last few hours, by getting very excited, and masturbated myself to a groaning climax before I switched off the computer.

The next morning was Saturday, and my mobile phone rang just as I was about to go shopping.

'Hello,' said a pleasant male voice, 'this is "Rear Wheals" – I believe you'd like to come and do a session with us?'

'Well, yes,' I said.

'How would tomorrow suit?'

I was a little taken aback, not expecting anybody to work on Sundays, and said so.

'Oh, we work 24/7,' he said, and, when we had agreed on a time, proceeded to give me directions to the studio, which was in Manchester, some fifty miles away. My nerves started to flutter like mad from that moment on, and I knew they would get no better until I arrived at the studio.

That evening, I rang Carla, and told her what I was doing the next day, and she was silent for a moment, then said, 'Julie, can I ask you something?'

'Of course,' I said.

'Do you shave?'

'No,' I replied.

'Then you should, it'll look much better on film!'

I took her up on the suggestion, and carefully removed every vestige of pubic hair, using a mirror to ensure that there was not a scrap left around my labia or anus.

I slept badly, but next morning dawned warm, and all thoughts of chickening out went when I thought about my debts, against what I could earn in one day.

I decided that I would wear a silk slip, which would be soothing against my sore arse after the caning, so a pleated full skirt and silk blouse seemed about right. I had dwelt a good deal on Carla's lack of underwear, and decided she certainly had a point where panties were concerned. When I walked about the flat without any, my newly-shaven pussy felt wonderful naked, and I could see no point at all in wearing panties. My breasts, however, were larger than Carla's, and I wasn't going to go without a bra, just yet, anyway. I compromised, finding a black platform bra I had once bought for a party, out of which my nipples could easily be teased. It felt good enough under the blouse, and would look alright when I undressed. I threw a light jacket around my shoulders, slipped on a pair of heels, the highest I had, and went off to catch the train.

Up two flights of stairs, and a glass door was emblazoned with gold lettering:-



Wheals of Fortune Ch. 01



'That's Mr Gordon,' whispered Carla, 'and his wife Rosa.'

I did a double-take when Rosa half stood to take off her jacket. She was almost the double of Maria – the very Maria who had so recently made it so painful for me to sit down. But she was so much more refined. She wore a short satin dress which was probably by Versace, over seamed stockings and needle heels. Her ear-lobes, wrists and an ankle sported a lot of gold jewellery, but not too much, and her long black hair shone as it cascaded down her back..

'And that's who wants somebody to work for her?' I wanted to know.

'Yes. Interested?'

'Does the Pope say his prayers?'

'I'll introduce you a bit later.'

After a while the couple got up to leave, and Carla made as if to stand up and leave at the same time.

'Hello, Mr Gordon, Rosa,' she said.

'Hello Carla, are you well?' asked Gordon.

Rosa chimed in, her accent remarkably similar to that of Maria, 'And just who is this beautiful creature you have with you, Carla?'

Carla introduced me, and told Rosa I was looking for a job.

'Come and see me in my office, my dear!' she said, and I thought I should faint from sheer joy.

'Now?' I wanted to know.

'Yes,' she said, glancing at her husband, 'you don't mind, do you darling?'

'Go ahead,' he said, giving his wife a non-too-subtle nod, and Rosa took my hand in her cool one and led me down a very short passageway, through an oak door, and into a luxurious office, where she bade me sit in a leather armchair, whilst she took another.

'So you are wanting a job?' she said, 'and by the looks of you, you are interested in restraint, at least?'

I nodded.

'And I assume your being here with your friend, er…..Carla, is it?...means that you are have some idea what this club is all about?'

I nodded again.

'Can I ask you if you have ever been physically punished?'

I told her about my caning episode, and she started to laugh, which surprised me, When she saw my expression, she said, 'I suppose it was Maria who caned you, yes?'

'How did you know that?' I asked, surprised, to say the least.

'She is my sister!' she said, and went on to tell me that, although they saw little of each other, they shared many tendencies. She asked me about my reaction to being caned, and I told her it had hurt terribly, but had excited me too. She seemed satisfied by that, then paused before continuing.

'Let me tell you briefly what it is I want, then you either go and forget all about this conversation, or we take it from here, OK?'

'OK,' I agreed.

'What I don't want is a nine to five worker. I want someone twenty-four-seven.' She paused to let this sink in, saw I wasn't phased by it, then went on.

'I want someone living in, with her own room, but constantly on call, unless she isn't required by my husband or me. There will be no cleaning or housework, no cooking or anything like that, though you may sometime be called upon to act as a waitress or hostess to guests. The pay will be extremely good, with a monthly salary paid into a Swiss account, and all pension rights etc maintained correctly. Do you have any questions?'

'Well, yes,' I said, 'you haven't said anything about what the job entails at all.'

She smiled, and at that moment I knew I would do absolutely anything for her.

'You would be my slave, my dear,' she said, as normally as if she had said 'secretary,' 'and your duties would be various. You would gratify my urges, and those of my husband, occasionally be loaned to our intimate friends, attend our parties and other celebrations, accompany us on our visits abroad, that sort of thing.' 

I felt a sudden surge of panic at what might be required of me. 

'But….but….what will I need to…………?' My question tailed off.

Rosa smiled again. 'Don't worry. If you agree to join me – and I think you'd like to – you'll have a list of rules given to you, a code of dress and so forth. And I think I can guarantee you a life full of sensations few people experience.'

Her last sentence sounded carefully chosen, and intrigued me, but I was, in any case, hooked by this gorgeous woman. She was speaking again.

'So what do you think, Julie – are you interested?'

'Yes, I am,' I heard myself saying, 'I'd love to work for you.'

She became businesslike: 'When can you start?'

'As soon as my present employer will release me. I think I'm on a week's notice,' I said.

'Good, so that's agreed, then. You can start Monday week. We will have your room ready for you to move into the day before, so that you may make all necessary arrangements. Carla tells me your apartment is rented furnished, so there should be no problem there, and we will remove personal items for you. Any debts you may have will be cancelled. I take it that will be in order?'

'Oh yes, thank you!'

'Thank you, Mistress, from now on, please, Julie!'

'Of course, yes, Mistress!' I replied, in a daze. 

Sunday afternoon. I stood outside Mr Gordon's palatial mansion, watching two brawny guys carrying my pitifully few possessions from a white van, in through a pair of heavy oak doors, watched also by a petite, uniformed Spanish maid, whose name I had learnt was Pilar, and who spoke very few words of English. She wore a black velvet dress, white frilly apron, seamed black nylons and high heels, and her jet-black hair was caught up in a neat pony-tail. Of Mr and Mrs Gordon there was no sign, and I was shown my room in silence by Pilar. The men left my three boxes of odds and ends, two suitcases and a few clothes on the huge four-poster bed, which I tested an found to my liking. I then found that I had an en-suite bathroom, and – glory be! – a dressing-room, complete with a huge walk-in closet. When I looked inside, I found the rails were full of clothes, with scarcely enough spare room to hang my own things. I managed, however, and assumed that they must have forgotten to clear out someone else's gear before I came. When I checked out the bathroom, I discovered that it a stocked with cosmetics and perfumes of many, many kinds – and, most surprisingly, all the bottles, jars and tubes were new and unopened.

I fussed around for a while, enjoying the view of the huge gardens from my big bay window, and setting up the few photos of family and other mementoes I had had brought on the dresser and window sill.

I was just thinking of having a shower, and perhaps changing out of my habitual Sunday track suit and tee shirt, left over from this morning's run, when a timid knock sounded on my door and Pilar was there, handing me an envelope.

When I opened it, a single sheet of expensive embossed paper was inside. I read the letter, written on a computer or word-processor:-

Dear Julie,

Welcome home. I am sorry not to be here to greet you, but if there is anything you need, you may telephone me on the number below, and I will explain to Pilar what it is you require. I regret she speaks little English.

All the clothes you will find in your closet are for your use – you should find them a reasonably good fit. There is such lingerie as you are allowed in the drawers also. Shoes are also provided. I do not expect you to wear anything other than the clothes I have provided, except, of course, when you have a day off. At the moment, these will be restricted to Sundays, unless by special arrangement.

Your special period of training will commence tomorrow, and will be harsh, as I am sure you understand. How long it lasts will depend entirely on your own performance.

I have instructed Pilar to bring you dinner tonight in your room. 

Tomorrow, you will rise a seven, and Pilar will bring you breakfast, plus some items for you to put on, and instructions as to how you should prepare. She will return for you at eight.

I trust that is clear, and look forward to our new relationship

Your Mistress

Rosa

There followed her telephone number, which I knew I would rather die than ring.

God, what was I getting into? I was suddenly terrified by the tone of her letter, but when I went through the amazing clothes in the closet, I felt a lot better. The evening gowns were just fantastic, by Lagerfeld and Prado, Versace and Balenciaga – when I had struggled to shop at Marks and Spencer. And sexy just wasn't the word! They were clothes you never normally saw away from the catwalk. I switched my attention to the drawers. There I found some slips, several vicious-looking corsets, a few half-bras,

some garter belts, and packets containing stockings of various types. No panties of any description. A top drawer contained lots of costume jewellery – all good stuff.

I decided to pin my hair up and take a long soak in the bath, and then pampered myself with lots of creams and stuff I didn't really need, and was luxuriating in a heavy embroidered silk kimono when Pilar appeared with a huge silver tray bearing my dinner. As I feasted on a seafood salad with hot rolls, followed by tiramisu, and washed down with a half-bottle of Freixanet, I made up my mind that, come what may, this was the life for me!   

I turned the bedclothes back and found satin sheets. Wow! Crawling naked between them was another delicious treat, and I slept as never before, until my alarm awoke me rudely at seven. It was still dark outside. I slipped on the kimono again, and had very little time to wait before a smiling Pilar was at my door, this time with a much smaller tray.

'Buenos días,' she said, and laid down the tray – coffee, croissants, and orange juice – then quickly disappeared. Ten minutes later I had finished, and she was back, this time with a wicker box, which she silently exchanged for my tray, glancing at me with a look which I found impossible to interpret – but wished I could.

I took the box over to my sofa and opened it. I had half-known what to expect, anyway, but still trembled as I took out the items, one-by-one.

There were five thick leather straps, each with buckles and rings set into them. I quickly identified them as being for my neck, ankles and wrists. There were two heavy lengths of stainless steel chain, one longer than the other, and there was another device I had never seen before, but knew immediately to be a pair of silver screw-down nipple clamps, joined by a fine length of chain. I sat and looked at the array, only slowly becoming aware of an envelope at the bottom of the box.

Of course, her note had said something about 'instructions.' I opened it and took out the single sheet.

Good morning, Julie,

I trust you slept well. Your training must now begin. Put on the ankle and wrist restraints and the collar. The last item you will always wear when I am in residence.

Apply your make-up carefully, making yourself beautiful, and pin your hair up. Connect your ankles with the longer length of chain. Put on the black negligee you will find at the extreme right of the rail in your closet. Now connect your wrists with the shorter chain. Lastly put on the nipple clamps, tightening them down as hard as you can bear.

You will be collected.

I await you

Your Mistress

Rosa.

I read through it twice, apprehension and excitement vying with each other in my mind as I contemplated the coming events – and the unknown. Shrugging, I put on the restraints, and found I actually loved the feel of them – or perhaps it was what they signified? Not caring to think too hard about it, I busied myself with my make-up, laying on the eye-shadow and lip-gloss more heavily than usual – I wanted to be pretty for my Mistress. My long blonde hair presented no problem, as it had always been manageable. I took the next step, and connected my ankles with the heavy chain, making me really feel like a slave, as I went over to the wardrobe to find the negligee. There it was, a long, transparent, black nylon garment, with voluminous sleeves, a fine fur trim around the hem, cuffs and neckline, and a big ribbon to fasten it around my waist. I slipped it on, and checked myself in the mirror. I looked very sexy, I thought, my breasts and shaven mound wholly visible through the thin black nylon. I went back to the dresser, and shackled my wrists with the shorter chain, in accordance with my instructions, then – the moment I had been dreading, and putting off – I picked up the feared nipple clamps. My nipples had always been highly sensitive, and I gasped when I pulled one of them out, at the pain it sent coursing through me, and also the instant tingling sensation it created in my pussy. Gingerly, I offered up on of the clamps, glad to be able to do it myself, and screwed it down, very slightly, and then just a bit more, until my eyes watered with the pain, and I was squirming on the dressing-table stool. I repeated the operation with the other one, and looked proudly at the mirror, up at the image of a slave-girl, with her nipple-clamps in place. I felt surprisingly……..what? Yes, proud! But then I started to wonder what else was in store for me, and was getting more anxious by the minute when a knock sounded on the door.

'Come in!' I called.

Pilar entered, carrying something in her right hand. She revealed it as a rolled up leather leash, which she unrolled, and, coming round to where I was sitting, clipped the end to the ring in my collar, smiling nicely at me. We had no words in common, but there was a bond of comradeship between us, and I nodded to say I was ready, and stood up to be led by her. She walked slowly, so that I should have no trouble following her with my shackled ankles, but I shuffled along barefoot, the chain clanking across parquet floor and down stairs behind Pilar's clicking stilettos. 

She led me through a big pair off double doors into a large, comfortably furnished lounge, which had, incongruously, a huge wooden cross set solidly under a sort of gallery at the far side. It had snap-links at the ends of its arms, which I assumed I should be spread-eagled to, but Pilar unfastened the leash from my collar, and replaced it with another snap-link, this time at the end of a heavy chain, about three metres long, which was secured at its other end to the base of the cross. Without a word, she left, closing the doors silently behind her. I was alone, chained to a cross, trembling, awaiting my fate. I sat on the floor, as I couldn't reach any seat, constrained by the chain.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably no more than twenty minutes, the doors swung open, and in walked my Mistress, dressed in white silk nightgown and negligee set and high-heeled mules, her long black hair loose, cascading down her back to her waist.

'Good morning Julie,' she said quietly, 'I see you understood your instructions.'

She sat in an armchair, and regarded me coolly.

'Yesterday, I spoke to my sister about you. She hoped you would go back to her, but doubted that you would. She felt you needed more than just a simple caning, and is, frankly, envious of me for engaging your services. I hope you will not disappoint me, Julie.'

'I hope not too, Mistress,' I said.

'Stand up!' she said, 'I wish to inspect you.'

She came close, and her perfume filled the air. It was Guerlain, I was sure. She went over my body carefully, probing, inspecting.

'You must, from now on, always wear ear-rings, from the collection in your drawer,' she told me, then as she looked critically at me, poking around with her fingers, 'I will have your tongue pierced, as soon as possible. I find that gives much pleasure. You may as well have your clit-hood and navel done at the same time.' 

She looked closely at my hands.

'Your nails could be better – I will have you seen by my girl. As you will not be doing housework, your nails should be perfect.'

Next she lifted up my negligee and looked at the fading evidence of my caning.

'Mmmm,' she said, 'my sister's handiwork is disappearing. This morning I shall give you something much prettier. I'm sure you will enjoy that, won't you?'

I nodded my assent, but she wanted more.

'Won't you!' she demanded, harshly.

'Yes, Mistress.'

'But you don't know what I'm going to do to you, my dear, do you?'

'No Mistress.'

'I'm going to whip you, my dear, but later. Before that, I have another part of your training that I should like to attend to. Stay there, please.'

She walked across the lounge, her heels clicking across the woodblock floor, and was back in an instant.

'On your knees!' she told me, and I obeyed. 

She was on her own knees behind me in an instant, and flipped my negligee up over my waist, then pushed my legs as far part as my ankle-chain would allow.

To my dismay, I felt her fingers begin to explore the tiny puckered entrance of my arsehole, and gasped in alarm as her long-nailed forefinger went straight into my anus, where nothing had ever penetrated before. 

'Oh. Oh, Christ, that hurts, Oh, Mistress, please, not there, please,' I protested.

'You will have to be prepared, my dear,' was all she said, and, before I could say any more, I felt some kind of cream being introduced into my rectum, then she suddenly had two fingers wriggling around deep within me, causing me new sensations I had never known to exist.

'Oh, Mistress, Oh Mistress!' I moaned, 'please, please!'

'Please, what?' she said, 'I think you start to like it, you little slut, don't you?'

She withdrew her fingers, and now I felt a new, entirely new pain, as something

Much, much bigger, took their place, and was rammed unceremoniously deep within my arsehole.

'There, my dear little slave, you have your first butt-plug in place. You will keep it there for twenty-four hours – is that understood?'

I felt as if it was splitting me apart, and didn't know how I could keep it in for an hour, let alone twenty four.

'Oh Mistress, I can't!' I said.

She fetched me a resounding slap across my cheek, and said, 'You will obey, please!'

Then she stood and left the room abruptly. I turned over tenderly and sat sideways on the floor – more waiting seemed to be the order of the day.

I had almost nodded off, despite the discomfort of the floor, and my poor, ravaged anus, when the door opened again. It was not Mistress Rosa, this time, but her husband, Mr Gordon, wearing a paisley dressing gown. I started to get up, but he strode over to me before I had time to do so, and said, 'I hope you are comfortable in my home. Julie, isn't it?'

'Yes, sir,' I said.

'Hm,' he murmured, 'let me have a look at you!' 

He raised me to a kneeling position, pulling me by the chain attached to my collar, then switched his attention to my nipple clamps, tugging at their connecting chain.

'Do you like these?' he asked, looking down at me.

'Yes, sir,' I replied, really uncertain of how to respond.

'So you enjoy pain, then?' he said.

'Sometimes, sir,' I said, hesitantly. He took something from the pocket of his dressing gown, and palmed it, so that I couldn't see what it was, but when he pushed aside the top of my negligee, my eyes widened when I saw he held a long needle with a bone handle. With no more ado, he pierced the flesh above my right breast with it, and I screamed out loud.

'I thought you liked pain?' he said.

'Oh, please, sir!' I pleaded, and he withdrew the awful needle, but now he had a massive erection, poking right into my face, and I knew exactly what he wanted. I rounded my lips nd took the crown of his long, hard cock gently into my lips, letting my tongue lap around the tip, licking off a little pre-cum that had formed. I raised my shackled hands, and caressed his balls, licked the whole length of his shaft, revelling in hearing his groans, then, looking up into his eyes, I let him plunge his entire rod deep into my throat, and sucked with all my might, until I felt him stiffen, then he shot his load of hot, sticky spunk hard into my throat. I licked him clean and swallowed every drop. He left the room soundlessly. Whether it was the effect of having a hard cock in my mouth for the first time in months, the butt-plug up my arse, or the nipple-clamps, or a combination of all three, my juices were welling up as Mr. Gordon left the room, and I found myself masturbating furiously, without having intended anything of the sort. I closed my eyes as the shaking climax overtook me, and, when I opened them again, my Mistress was standing over me.




Wheals of Fortune Ch. 01



'If you were trying to give me an excuse to punish you, my dear,' she said, in her customary quiet voice, 'you have just done so. Please stand up now!'

She helped me to my feet, and unclipped the chain from my wrists. Then she untied the ribbon at my waist, and slipped the negligee off my shoulders. She also took the chain from my collar, and taking hold of my right wrist, raised it above my head and clipped it to the right hand arm of the cross, then clipped my left wrist to the left arm, so that I was facing the cross, arms apart, way above my head. She then did an extraordinary thing. Coming up beside me, she took my head in her hands, turned me towards her, and kissed me full on the mouth. When she felt my response had been insufficient, she repeated the action, until I responded eagerly, and our tongues entwined passionately. Her hand was between my legs as we kissed, probing and sliding around the wetness of my cunt.

'You liked my husband's cock, didn't you, you dirty little bitch?' she said, and when I didn't answer, she slapped my face, a stinging smack, `Didn't you!'

'Yes Mistress.'

'I'm going to whip you now, Julie. You'll like that, too, won't you?'

I knew better than to remain silent. 'Yes, Mistress.'

'I'm going to hurt you, my dear. Is that what you want?'

'Yes Mistress.'

'Then you must tell me so.'

'Oh yes, please hurt me Mistress!'

'Good!'

She went away for a moment and when she came back, I heard an awesome swishing noise as the single-strand whip whistled through the air.

I had been expecting to be whipped on my buttocks, so it was a shock when the terrible sting of her first expert stroke came, on the upper part of my back, just below my neck, and I screamed as it struck. 

'Be quiet!' she said, sternly, 'you must learn to take your punishment in silence, or how can I loan you to friends?'

I bit down hard as she struck again, drawing blood from my lower lip, scarcely daring to think about what she had just said – loaning me to friends; Heavens above!

Six strokes she gave me, then unclipped my cuffs and let me look at my wheals in the mirror. They made a pretty ladder pattern down my back, and I thought that was it, but my Mistress had other ideas.

'Don't move!' she said, and went back to the cupboard from which she had apparently taken the whip. When she returned, she had a many-stranded flogger in her hand. She backed me up against the cross, and lashed me hard four times across the tops of my breasts with it, bringing up red marks I knew would soon disappear, but which hurt a great deal. When she finished I was sobbing.

She threw down the flogger and took me in her arms.

'That's enough for this morning, my dear,' she said, 'you may go and change. You shall have lunch with me, and then we'll go shopping, shall we?'

Again, she strode out, leaving me speechless. All of a sudden, I was her companion!

I shuffled back to my room, sore and weary, stripped off everything, even daring to remove the butt-plug and the collar, and spent ten minutes under the shower. The water stung like hell on my back, and my nipples throbbed as the blood flowed back into them. The plug didn't hurt quite so much this time, when I gently pushed it back into my arsehole, and the collar felt quite comforting around my neck. When I brushed my hair out, so that it fell in a long mane down my back, as usual, I found I could move the ring around to the back, and it didn't look too outlandish.

I rummaged around in the closet and soon found a fine selection of 'normal' clothes. There being no panties available, and as I really didn't need a bra, I wore no underwear, so I dressed in a green pleated cotton skirt and a beige silk blouse, clipped in a pair of long silver pendant ear-rings, and completed my outfit with a pair of black patent stilettos. The weather was warm, so I needed no stockings, and I decided to do without a jacket.

We sat together as our lunch was served by Pilar, and Mistress Rosa chatted and gossiped with me like a true friend, rather than my Mistress, but I was all the time aware of our relative status, and on my guard. She wore in a beige jersey knit dress and what appeared to be genuine pearls, and when I remarked on her sophisticated appearance she glowed visibly.

We took a taxi into town, and Mistress Rosa bought several items of jewellery for herself, and a lovely anklet and waist-chain set for me, then led me into a shop advertising porcelain false nails.

'But my own nails are quite strong,' I protested.

'Wait until you see what I shall have you fitted with,' she told me, and there was no disagreeing with her. 

I had to agree, in fact, that the long, shapely, pink talons that I had expertly applied by my Mistress's contact there were indeed lovely, though I was going to have to get used to doing simple things all over again, with my nails extending a good centimetre beyond the end of my fingers. And just when I thought she had finished, she led me over to another counter, where a studious-looking young girl produced a tiny drill. She pierced holes in the nails of my right forefinger and my left pinkie. Into my right forefinger's nail, she inserted a small stone, which looked like a diamond, though it certainly wasn't, whilst to my pinkie she fastened about three centimetres of very fine silver chain, with a tiny stone set at its dangling end.

'Well?' asked my Mistress, as we left the shop.

'I feel very sexy, Mistress Rosa,' I said.

'Just as well,' she said, taking my arm, 'because I need to go home and fuck.'

She told me to go straight to her room when we got home, and turned to me as soon as we entered.

'Undress me, Julie,' she said, and she lifted the heavy mane of hair out of my way so that I could get at the zipper of her dress. I pulled it down, down, down, revealing her long, pale back, crossed by the black strap of her lacy bra, which I unclasped. I eased the soft wool of her dress off her elegant shoulders, and it fell to her waist, leaving her breasts covered only by the filmy bra, which I pulled impatiently away. For some reason, I was anxious to see my Mistress's body revealed before me. Her breasts were rounded, heavy, but still firm, with nice, brown aureola and prominent nipples, which I kneaded and teased, drawing an 'oh' from her lips just as she turned to kiss me.

I tugged at the belt on her dress, and fumbled for a moment before I had it off, then the dress was loose, and I could simply push it down over her broad hips, until it fell in a pool around her Manolo Batik shoes. She wore, I saw, a garter belt and stockings, over which she had pulled on a pair of fine silk French panties. Now I knelt beside her, and gently pulled down the gorgeous, loose panties, loving the feel of the silk, but even more, her warm flesh beneath. I had wondered idly if she shaved her pussy. Now I had the answer; the panties slid down smoothly over bare flesh, without a vestige of ugly hair, and her vaginal lips were neat, almost invisible until she opened her legs. 

Knowing my role, I took the three paces necessary to the bed, and sat on its edge, lifting my skirt, and opening my legs wide. I did something Paul had shown me he liked, what seemed like a century ago – I spread my cunt with two fingers, and, in a new adaptation of my own, looking my Mistress in the eye, just let my tongue emerge from between my teeth for a few moments.

Accepting the implicit invitation, she threw herself on the floor in front of me, and plunged her head between my legs. Her tongue shot deep into my vagina, alternately fucking me deeply, and coming up, then flicking at my hard little clit.

I manoeuvred her into a '69' position on the bed, and soon we were busy with each other's pussies, and I had a slow, languorous orgasm, as she tongued me to climax. 

Mistress Rosa was a generous lover, and waited until I had cum, before she told me what it was she really wanted. Slipping off the bed, she went to a dresser, and came back with a monstrous red flexible dildo.

'I can do this myself,' she said, 'but it's not the same.'

She handed it to me. 'One end for each hole, if you'll do the honours, darling,' she said, 'I don't need any lubricant.'

Wonderingly, I slowly rammed the thicker end into her hot wet cunt, and she purred like a cat as its mighty length and width filled her. I couldn't resist tw0isting and giving it a bit of manipulation, drawing from her some real groans. Then I doubled the great implement over and, none-too-gently, shoved the thinner end hard into her anus, which seemed to suck it into its dark and cavernous depths to an incredible extent. With the loop that remained sticking out of her, I began to fuck her, moving across her and unbuttoning my blouse so that she could suck and caress my tits while I did it. It excited me tremendously to see my Mistress writhing as her cunt and arsehole were being penetrated simultaneously, and I felt the familiar welling up of juices inside me as I fucked her.

Her moans turned to sharp screams, which had a sudden effect on me too, and I think we both came together, then lay in each other's arms.

'Julie, my dear?' said my Mistress, sleepily, after a time.

'Yes, Mistress?'

'Just checking you were awake. You can rest tonight, but keep your plug in, because my husband wants to use you tomorrow.'

'Oh,' I replied, apprehensively, the thought of Mr Gordon's monstrous cock forcing its way into my virgin arsehole both exciting and, above all, terrifying. But my Mistress was stroking my body with a tenderness I had thought no slave was entitled to, and its effect was so soothing.

'Does your slave please you, Mistress?' I asked, the unfamiliar dangling ornament trailing from my pinkie to graze her breast.

'Yes, my dear,' she said. It was music in my ears. 



Wheals of Fortune Ch. 02



You'd better be over eighteen if you are about to read this – all of the characters in the store are. It follows on from part1, of course, and part 3 will be along later.

I slept between my lovely satin sheets on my second night at the Gordons' Mansion, my back still sore from my whipping, my anus stretched and aching with the unfamiliar intrusion of the butt-plug. But I felt supremely happy. My Mistress loved me, and I knew I could serve her, that when I had made her cum that afternoon, she had known true pleasure – and I had lost count of the orgasms I had had during the day. My last thought, as I drifted off to sleep was that I would count the hours until my Mistress saw fit to whip me again.

I awoke to the smell of coffee, and found a smiling Pilar stood by my bedside, breakfast tray in her hands. I realised, to my embarrassment, that I had unconsciously pushed aside the covers, and my fingers were idly playing around with my damp pussy-lips, and that the little Spanish maid was staring at me, an unreadable expression on her face. As we couldn't communicate verbally, I extended a hand to her – the one that had just been fingering my burgeoning clit. She put down the tray on my bedside table, and did a very strange thing. Taking my proffered hand in hers, she put it to her full lips, and kissed it, muttering something I didn't understand. Then she turned on her high, metallic stilettos, and hurried from the room, her long slender legs encased in black seamed stockings, the lace tops of which were tantalisingly in view under her short black miniskirt.

I ate my breakfast hungrily, and then busied myself taking a shower. Soon afterwards, a knock on my door announced the return of Pilar, this time with an envelope, which she presented to me silently. It was one of my Mistress's neat little notes:-

Julie,

I trust you are well rested. Attend to your make-up with care. Put on a garter-belt and black seamed stockings, a black half-bra, the waist chain and anklet I bought you yesterday and a white negligee. Wear stilettos, of course. You may now remove your plug, but you must, on no account, take off your collar. Pilar will call for you in half an hour.

Your Mistress

Rosa.

I read it through, and hurried to comply. It was a huge relief to rid myself of the fearsome butt-plug, and I felt a new freedom as I walked about without it. When I had put on the garter belt and pushed my breasts into the half-bra, I looked at my image in the mirrored door of my closet. My nipples were perched nicely on top of the lacy material of the bra, and seemed to harden and grow as I looked at them. I couldn't resist giving them a tweak with my thumbs and forefingers. The recent memory of the cruel nipple-clamps which I had worn yesterday was as exciting as it was painful, and my pussy tingled at the thought, as I smoothed the long, seamed, silky black nylons straight on my long slim legs. I cinched them to the straps on the garter belt, clipped the little silver chain around my ankle, and chose a pair of the highest heels I could find. As I went back to the closet for the negligee, I remembered the waist chain, and clipped it around my slender girth, then selected the long transparent nylon garment, with a white fur trim at its hem and cuffs. Again I checked the mirror, and thought I couldn't possibly have looked sexier.

Pilar knocked and entered, looking me over with something that seemed like adoration.

She held out a hand to me, and said, 'Come, please!' 

She led me down two corridors, to a part of the rambling house where I had never before set foot, opened a door, ushered me into a large bedroom, and left me, silently closing the door and leaving me alone. It was a room like my own, but more luxurious, with fine velvet drapes, and a distinct smell of cigar smoke. Just as I was about to it down on the sofa by the window, the door opened, and Mr Gordon came in, wearing the same Paisley dressing gown he had been wearing the day before.

'Ah, Julie,' he said, 'yes!'

I didn't know what he meant by that, but he strode over to a cupboard, and from it took an object which he concealed from me behind his back. Then he took hold of my arm, quite roughly, and propelled me towards a door, which I discovered was the bathroom. At one end was a huge walk-in shower-recess, mosaic-tiled.

'Go in there!' he ordered.

I started to take off my negligee.

'No!' he said, sharply, 'as you are. And face me!'

I stood under the shower, and he regarded me, his lustful eyes drinking in my body, hand still behind his back, holding something. The other hand reached out beside me and flipped on the shower control. A freezing cold, stinging cascade of water poured over my head, soaking me through instantly, so that the thin nylon clung to my body like a second skin. I dared not move, however, but was shivering uncontrollably when he turned off the jet.

'Cold, are you?' he asked.

I nodded dumbly.

'Hold the shower head, with both hands!' he said, and I did as he ordered.

He whisked from behind his back a leather cat o' nine tails, and immediately started to lash me above my breasts and then across my stomach with it.

'That should warm you up!' he said, as I howled with the sudden pain, accentuated by the wetness of the nylon against my skin.

He pulled aside the two halves of my negligee and whipped me again, several times, reddening my skin, and giving me a criss-cross pattern of stripes I knew wouldn't last, but which stung as he whipped me.

Despite my pain, I couldn't help noticing that he had a massive erection, threatening to burst out from his dressing gown, so I knew my punishment would be short-lived, and so it proved. 

'Come!' he ordered, and I followed him into the bedroom. There, he stripped off my negligee, and gave me a big fluffy towel, but didn't offer to let me take off the rest of my things.

'Down in front of the sofa, and spread your arse!' he told me, and I again did as he told me, looking back at him anxiously.

'Oh, Mr Gordon,' I said, speaking at last, 'please don't hurt me, not there.'

'You have to be trained, girl,' was all he said.

I pulled my arse-cheeks apart a wide as I could, hoping to make his passage as easy as I could, and hoping too that my twenty-four hours with the butt-plug would have helped, but when he brutally rammed to fingers deep into my anus, I knew I was in for some awful pain. It hurt like hell, and I cried out in agony as a third finger forced its way in beside the other two, tearing, I was sure, my delicate tissue, as it went.

'You'll just have to endure it!' he said, and pulled his fingers out, then spat copiously on my arse. I felt the crown of his mighty tool start to push at the very opening of my rectum, then he was forcing, pushing, ramming, not to be denied, as his rock-hard erection, spurred no doubt by the sight of my whipped body under the shower, had a life of its own. He was suddenly in, in up to my sphincter, then past it, and stretching, stretching, thrusting, until tears rolled down my cheeks, and I moaned and cried, and sobbed, as my final barrier was broached, and I knew what it was to have a great, hard cock penetrating, filling, my tender arsehole. He drove me hard into the sofa, his hands crushing my damaged breasts, his breath coming in short gasps, and I knew he was close to cumming. I also knew that the huge and awful pain in my arse was something I could endure now, and that it would start to turn into something else. Too late! He came in red-hot gushes, his body stiffening as he shot his load deep into my bowel. When he pulled out, I rolled over, sat on the floor, and, as he wiped himself clean, manipulated myself to a rapid orgasm. When he saw that I groaned, and shut my eyes as I came, he laughed.

'Quite a little slut, Julie, aren't you?' 

'Yes, Master,' I managed to say, 'may I go now?'

'Yes, my dear, you are all wet.' He had suddenly turned solicitous and pleasant.

I hurried back to my room, my teeth chattering with the cold, stripped and took a shower – a long hot one this time, and rubbed cream onto the superficial marks he had given me when he had whipped me. I looked over my shoulder into the mirror, and felt just a little pride when I eased my arse-cheeks apart, and saw the dark cavern that my little puckered opening had become. I felt as if I was a woman at last, and knew I should crave anal sex when I became more accustomed to it.

I dressed in day-clothes, a summer button-through dress with a silk slip my sole underwear, and a pair of the very high heels I was learning to wear all the time.

Glancing at my watch, I saw to my surprise that it was lunchtime, and went down to see if I could get something to eat.

'You poor dear, you must be starving!' said Mistress Rosa, as soon as I entered the dining room, and called out to Pilar, who was hovering nearby, in Spanish. The maid scurried away, and came back quickly with an appetising plate of lamb chops and sausages for me, and then poured me a glass of wine, while the Mistress talked rapidly to her in her language.

'That's settled, then,' she said to me, as Pilar left, 'I want you to teach her English, Julie, and she likes you.'

I looked at her curiously at this last comment, and she smiled. 

'Yes, my dear, you're right,' she admitted, 'she said a bit more than that.'

I couldn't get her to say any more about the maid's conversation, so left it at that. I thought I should find out soon enough, anyway.

That afternoon, Mistress Rosa had arranged for a visit from her piercing specialist. I was to be in my room at three thirty. I was as frightened as when I had presented myself for my caning, despite all the assurances I had heard that it wasn't going to hurt. Sitting in my room waiting was like being in the dentist's waiting room, without old copies of 'Country Life.'

At three-thirty exactly, a knock sounded on my door, and I opened it to a smiling, white-coated woman of about forty, pushing a kind of wheelchair, the reason for which soon became apparent-

'Hi,' she said, with a slight transatlantic accent, 'I'm Sherrie. Now take a seat in this here contraption, and we'll soon have you sorted.'

She took a silver-coloured case from a compartment at the back of the chair, and set it down on the coffee table, then applied a brake so that the chair became stable for me to sit down. It was quite comfortable, and Sherrie immediately let the back down, so that I was reclining. The feeling of being at the dentist's intensified.

She must have known I wore no panties, because she efficiently clicked out a pair of stirrups from the sides of the chair, and, before I knew it, my ankles were strapped in. I was now at the obstetrician's instead of the dentist's! 

'Now,' she said, all cool briskness, 'let's have a look at you!' 

She lightly flipped my skirt up, and I felt completely vulnerable, imprisoned in the chair, this woman inspecting my pussy. Her long, artistic fingers probed with surprising tenderness around my inner labia, and she moved closer to me, bringing a musky perfume I felt I should recognise. Then quite suddenly, she took me completely by surprise by kissing me full on the lips, her studded tongue forcing a passage into my mouth.

'Hey.......!' I started.

'All part of the service!' she said, her busy fingers now making a nice slurping sound as the worked around my cunt, separating my lips, probing, finding what they were looking for.

Now she bent down and studied my pubic area, while I squirmed under her intimate caresses.

'Yes,' she said, 'no problem! I'm not going to do your hood. Your clit is lovely, and just crying out to be pierced!'

Before I could protest, she had reached into her case and come up with a metal tray, which clinked as she brought it to the chair.

'The tool is sterilised ready,' she told me, 'so you don't have anything to worry about.'

I watched, however, in horror, as she reached down and took my erect clit between her thumb and forefinger, then picked up her instrument, which looked like a complicated pair of pliers – though she masked it deftly from my view – in the other hand.

In an instant I had a shock which I cannot begin to describe adequately. It was both the most agonising pain and the most incredible ecstasy I had ever felt – all at once, so tht I almost fainted. Pain? Pleasure? Sometime there is no difference. When I looked down, I had a silver ring dangling from my little bud.

'How was that?' Sherrie asked.

'I can't really describe the sensation,' I told her truthfully.

'I know,' she said, and lifted her white overall and the plain grey woollen skirt she wore underneath, to reveal a shaven mound, and a pussy decorated with not one piercing, but three, a silver stud at each side in her labia, and a ring like the one she had just put on me.

I grinned at her, and she smiled back.

'I'll tell Rosa not to hang anything on your ring for a while, and no sex for about four days, eh? And I'll give you some antiseptic lotion.'

After having my clit done, my tongue was child's play. Sherrie even used an anaesthetic spray before piercing it.

'I could have used this on your clit, but that would have spoilt the fun,' she said. I had mixed feelings about that.

When she had finished, she patted my knee as she released my ankles, and said, 'Rosa has good taste. I'll ask her to loan you to me one day, I think.' 

I looked at her to see if she was joking, and saw no sign of it.

Four days later, I had just about got used to eating, and talking, with the strange silver stud protruding near the tip of my tongue, and the soreness in my clit had disappeared with careful application of the lotion Sherrie had given me. The Gordons had been away since the day of Sherrie's visit, so I had had no demands on my services, but I was making some progress with Pilar's lessons, and she had learned enough simple phrases to make herself understood. Two nights earlier, she had turned to me after our little session, and said, 'You and me, bed, yes?' with an expectant look on her pretty face.

'No, Pilar, I'm sore,' I said, and raised my skirt to show her my clit ring, around which I had smeared the white lotion. She must have already known of Sherrie's visit anyway, because she said, 'I understand, Julie. Later, yes?'

'Yes, Pilar,' I confirmed, and she looked pleased.

I was sitting on the terrace, during the late afternoon, reading a novel, when a taxi pulled up with a swish of gravel, and Mr Gordon and Rosa got out. Pilar appeared as if by magic, to help them in with their suitcases, and I rushed over to lend a hand too, asking them if they had had a successful trip.

They seemed happy with their visit to Amsterdam, where I knew they had been visiting other BDSM clubs to get new ideas for their own, but said they were glad to be home.

'I shall rest for a couple of hours,' said Mistress Rosa, as I picked up her heavy grip to carry it to her room, 'then you must come and see me, my dear – we have to catch up with your training I'm sure.'

'Yes, Mistress,' I said. I had missed her.

I wasn't scared when I went to my Mistress's room two hours later, even though I was well aware I was going to be punished – I had, in fact, been looking forward to that moment for days.

First she wanted to look at my rings, and was delighted when I kissed her, letting my stud linger in her mouth, clicking around the backs of her teeth. I had changed into a burgundy silk miniskirt and a white cotton blouse, laced up the front, and tied with a bow, and I had left my hair loose, brushed out to a silky sheen, falling down to near my waist. I made sure my collar had its ring well to the fore. 

'Sit on the edge of the bed!' she commanded me, and I did as she wished. 'And part your legs!' 

She stood over me, and then bent down to take a look at my ring, then flicked at it with her fingers.

'Yes, Sherrie told me she liked your pussy. Now turn over!'

I wasn't expecting this, but flipped over and felt her fingers probing my arsehole. 

'Still a little tight, I see,' she said, 'and now I've got a pair of little surprises for you, my dear. What you don't know is that my sister was with us on our trip. She remembers you well, and insists that I don't forget your arse. And I'm going to couple a few strokes with something else I picked up in Amsterdam. Take your clothes off!'

I started to untie the bow on my blouse, but my Mistress beckoned me and did it for me, pushing the material gently off my shoulders, and kissing my breasts as she did so, sucking my nipples until they grew hard, and I felt the familiar tingling build in my vagina. 

'You really are a lovely slave, darling,' she said, 'it would pain me to hurt you if I didn't know how much you want it.'

She unfastened the waistband of my little skirt, and it fell to the floor in a whisper, around my Lucite heels. 

'Wait!' she ordered me, and got up, took something from a drawer and went over to a big oak table at one side of her room. I heard a pattering noise. She went back to the wardrobe, and this time I heard the familiar clank of a chain. When she returned to me, she held a short length of heavy chain with a snap-link at either end. She clipped one end to my collar and yanked me to my feet. She led me to the table, where I saw to my horror that she had scattered a whole boxful of drawing pins. A ring protruded from the wall at the back of the table.

'Oh, Mistress, oh, no!' I yelled, but it was to no avail, and she dragged my torso down onto the surface of the table, where the myriad little pins bit and stung into my tender flesh – pain from which there was no escape, as she clipped the other end of the chain to the eye in the wall.

The pain was so awful I was scarcely aware when my Mistress came up behind me with a thin, supple cane, but I heard the ominous swish as it displaced the air, then felt the terrible searing sting as it ripped across the fleshiest part of my buttocks.

'Oh, oh, oh, Mistress, please!' I cried, and knew it was in vain, so I took the next four in silence, with no more than a gasp. If I writhed with the force of the strokes, I knew I should double my pain from the dreadful pins, so I tried to keep still, and let the pain become something else, deep within me, as I knew it would. After the five strokes, my Mistress knowingly probed my cunt with her fingers.

'You're close, you slut, aren't you?'

'Yes Mistress,' I replied, in something between a sob and a moan, and she rammed two fingers deep into my sopping cunt.

'You can cum now, you little whore,' she said.

'Oh, oh, yes, yes,' I shouted, now oblivious to the drawing pins now stuck into my naked flesh and the livid stripes now patterning my buttocks. A raging orgasm took me to a level I had seldom visited.

'Thank you, Mistress,' I said, as she released me, and helped me pick off the pins I had picked up. My body was spotted with wounds caused by this novel punishment, and I knew I would be needing a lot of my soothing balm that evening.

Before I went back to my room, Mistress Rosa gave me a string of five huge yellow beads, the size of ping-pong balls. 

'Lube up, and keep these in your anus for a day every two or three days. Not only will they train your arsehole, you'll enjoy having them there, you'll see!'

As I was leaving, she said, 'I think you are becoming a good slave, Julie. Come and sleep with me tonight. You will be surprised how gentle I can be.' 

At bedtime, I went to her room wrapped in a kimono, which she took from me, and gave me a short, midnight blue silk slip, just like the red one she wore. I had taken great care to make myself beautiful for my Mistress, washing and conditioning my hair, painting my toenails, rouging my nipples and labia, and putting on the waist-chain and anklet she had bought me, as well as a pair of long pendant ear-rings.




Wheals of Fortune Ch. 02



She was as good as her word, and encouraged me to lap her sweet pussy, moaning in ecstasy when I thrust my tongue alternately deep into her cunt and then probed the warm, velvet tube of her anus. When she was about to cum, she stopped stroking my hair, and gripped my head between her hands as her juices flowed about my face, and I tasted the salty flavour of my beloved Mistress. But she wasn't selfish either, and kneaded my breasts while she gently stroked my newly-ringed clit to a lovely, slow, lingering climax. 

In the morning, we sat together over coffee like two lovers, rather than Mistress and slave, but after we had finished out coffee, Mistress Rosa outlined her plans for that evening. She told me she was planning to have some friends around to dinner, and that it 'could get a bit wild.' She wanted to show me off, as she had told people about her lovely new slave.

'Give Pilar her lesson this afternoon, darling. I'll send a bag up with her to your room. In it there will be a very special dress I bought for you in Amsterdam, and some other stuff for you to wear tonight. Pilar will know how you are to be prepared for the evening. It should be a lovely evening. I think you may well be whipped at some point, but I don't suppose you'll mind that.'

'If you are going to do it, Mistress, I will look forward to it,' I said.

'We shall have to see,' she said, mysteriously, 'but it should be a wonderful evening.'

That afternoon, our lesson dragged a bit. I couldn't wait to see what Pilar had brought up in the huge carpet-bag she had with her. But first she gave me a note from Mistress Rosa, telling me to take a shower, and then let Pilar do my hair and make up before I dressed. It was already seven o'clock by the time I had showered, and I sat in my robe while Pilar, who was quite skilled as a hairdresser, put my hair up in neat French swirl, and attended to my make-up. I could tell she enjoyed being close to me, and pulled her to me and fondled her spiky young breasts for a moment as she finished my eye-liner.

'Oh, Julie,' she said, 'you make me hot here.' She indicated her pussy with her free hand.

'Soon,' I said, 'we shall have a chance to be together.'

'Oh yes,' she said, 'yes please!'

When she had finished with my make-up, she helped me off with my robe, and I stood naked while she carefully took a garment wrapped in tissue paper from the bag, and slipped it over my head. I gasped at my image in the mirror, front and rear. It was a long dress, sheer and transparent, virginal white, shot with glittering silver. As if its transparency were insufficient, its top was cut away so that my breasts were exposed, just cupped, whilst at the back, I was naked down to the crack in my buttocks.

Pilar then presented me with a pair of silver stilettos, with broad ankle-straps, which had big metal rings set into their inner sides.

Whilst I sat down and put them on, she gave me another item. It was a length of silver chain with a snap-link at one end and a heavy little solid silver cross at the other. 

'You must put it here,' said Pilar, pointing to my pussy, and I understood. I clipped the chain to my clit-ring and tried walking up and down. The sensation of the weight pulling down on my clitoris was totally new, and I was going to have to get used to it. But more was to come, when Pilar went again to the bag and fished out another item – a pair of standard nipple clamps! My Mistress was going to make me wear the clamps for the evening, and in full view of her guests! It wasn't that I didn't like them – the excitement they gave me was tremendous – but I just knew I shouldn't be able to prevent myself from cumming during the evening, and everyone would know. My preparations were almost complete. Pilar fitted me with a pair of leather cuffs to match my collar, and the apologetically snapped heavy short lengths of chain in place between them, and between the rings on my ankle-straps. Next she clipped a leash to my collar, and then, picking up a last bundle out of the bag, made an excuse and scurried shyly into the bathroom.

A couple of minutes later, she sidled back, and was transformed. She had changed, taking off her usual maid's uniform, and replacing it with an identical, but completely transparent one, a black nylon dress with a white frilled hem and neckline, through which her pointed breasts thrust perkily, and her garter belt and seamed black stockings were revealed as her sole underwear. She wore the same black stilettos sandals.

'You look lovely, Pilar,' I said, and she giggled.

I looked at the clock. It was eight-thirty – time to go.

Pilar led me down on my leash, both of us feeling very self-conscious, my steps very limited by my shackles, my nipples dragged down and out by the weighted chain on their cruel clamps, my clit strangely excited by the pull of the chain hanging from my ring. I was in pain, but somehow knew I had never felt – or looked – sexier. As we entered the big dining hall, the fifteen or so people stopped talking, looked at us, and applauded. I felt even more self-conscious, especially when I felt a warm trickle of my vaginal fluid seeping down the inside of my thigh. The night promised to be every bit as 'wonderful' as my Mistress had predicted.

I looked down at Pilar, and smiled encouragingly at her, as she looked scared.

'Come on,' I whispered, 'let's go and face the music.'

She didn't understand.



Wheals of Fortune Ch. 03



I was stood facing Mistress Rosa's assembled guests, not at all afraid, proud of my position as her slave, my leash held by the trembling little Spanish maid, Pilar, who certainly was scared.

I had been 'prepared' to be presented to my Mistress's guests, and wore a wholly transparent long white dress, which left my breasts and back completely exposed. My nipples were tightly clamped and the clamps connected by a weighted chain, a much smaller weight hung from the ring in my pierced clit, and my ankles and wrists were shackled. I knew I was the perfect picture of a sex-slave, and as I surveyed the people sat around the big table, I could see the lust in their eyes, and revelled in the knowledge that there wasn't one of them who wouldn't want to fuck me, man or woman.

Rosa stood, dressed in a soft jade-green silk gown with a plunging neckline, and took the leash from Pilar, who stood aside.

'This is Julie,' she announced, 'she is my slave, and I am very proud to have her services, as is Mr. Gordon. During the evening, one of you, at least, will have the opportunity to make her acquaintance.'

I wondered what she had in store for me, and also mused on the fact that she always referred to her husband as 'Mr Gordon' – never using his first name; I didn't even know what it was.

As my Mistress walked me slowly around the table, I took stock of some of the guests.

I was more than a little surprised when I spotted my old friend and workmate Carla, together with her husband, whose name I couldn't remember. There she was, Goth as ever, purple, spiky hair above her sharp little features, wearing a flame-red corset which practically cut her in half, so much did it restrict her waist, and pushed up her small, sharp-pointed breasts so that they jutted out above the horizontal. In the short time since I had seen her, she had had her nipples pierced, and a dull metal ring hung from each one. Below her corset, she wore what appeared to be some sort of stiff gauze skirt, and black stockings completed her ensemble. She smiled at me and winked, and I nodded back. Next to her was a spectacular platinum blonde, wearing a fishnet tube-dress and, apparently, nothing else, and she was accompanied by an equally gorgeous hunk of manhood, with bulging biceps threatening to burst from his tee-shirt and pale blue eyes which were just unreal. My eyes lingered upon this fantastic couple, so that I had little time to take in the rest, as my Mistress ushered me on and away from the table, to where my view of everyone was restricted by pot-plants and so-forth. There, I had previously failed to notice a thick chain hanging down from a stout bracket in the ceiling.

'I am about to suspend Julie here,' announced my Mistress, to all and sundry, and, unclipping my leash, raised my hands above my head, and deftly clipped my wrist-cuffs into a snap-link on the end of the chain, which she must have previously measured for height, because I was just able to stand, thanks to my heels, although I knew it was going to be acutely uncomfortable, suspended there, if I was going to be there very long, my arms being pulled high above my head. 

Mistress Rosa now turned to the expectant gathering.

'When you've finished coffee, you can come and have a good look at her, if you wish, then I shall conduct a charity auction – proceeds to the local multiple sclerosis association – the highest bidder will have an hour with Julie, to do as he or she pleases. Julie is very accommodating!'

I started as the first person who walked up to me, flicking idly at my skirt, was my Mistress's double, but dressed in a tight black velvet dress. At first I thought Mistress Rosa had changed her dress, then I realised it was her sister, Maria, who had caned me so brutally a few weeks earlier.

'Ha, so my pupil moved on to greater things, eh?' she said, and gave a painful tug at the chain connecting my nipple-clamps.

I didn't reply, but thought how much the caning she had given me had changed my life, and how I had longed for her to take me in her arms afterwards. Something in my expression got through to her, I suppose, because she smiled, and said, 'My sister is lucky to have found you. We shall meet again soon.' 

Her place was taken beside me by the silent Mr Gordon, who raised the back of my skirt to look at the welts his wife had raised on my buttocks, running an exploratory finger along the deepest of them. 

'Mmm,' he murmured, and let my skirt drop back into place, then nodded to a tall, elegant fifty-something lady, her long auburn hair shot with grey streaks, her unsupported breasts jiggling under a white organdie blouse as she approached me. She came up to me directly, and kissed me full on the lips, a kiss that demanded a response, a response I gave, opening my lips to her, and allowing my tongue to dart into her slightly open mouth, so that she could feel my little stud graze her own tongue. A hand found the chain hanging from my clit, through the flimsy material of my skirt, and she tugged gently at it, sending a new vibration through my body.

She stepped back a fraction.

'You are very lovely, my dear,' she said, 'I shall ask Rosa to loan you to me one day soon.' Then she too left me, and the platinum blonde and her hunk came up to inspect me. 

My arms were feeling very tired by now, but I enjoyed the sight of the two lovely creatures, as they pawed each other and my body alternately – I found myself hoping they had enough money to win the 'charity auction.'

My old friend Clara was smiling up into my face, looking distinctly envious!

'And to think, I put you up to this!' she said.

'Right now, you could take my place,' I said, 'my arms are fucking killing me!' And the pain I was feeling in those limbs had nothing to do with the sort of pain I loved, the pain that got my juices running, the pain I now knew so well, craved even, when the cruel nipple-clamps bit into my tender parts, when my Mistress's whip fell on my flesh. No, this was just hurt, the sort of thing you get when you stub your toe, and I was almost oblivious as the other guests filed past me, making comments, some stroking me, tugging at my chain, trying vainly to make me cry out.

Eventually, to my relief, Mistress Rosa appeared, and took me down, massaging my arms, so that the blood came back into them.

'You poor dear,' she whispered, 'I'd quite forgotten about you!'

She clipped my leash into place, and led me to a small dais at one end of the room. 

Raising her voice, she said, 'And now, dear friends, we come to my charity auction. Who will start the bidding? Remember, the prize is an hour with this lovely slave of mine. Let's start the bidding at five hundred pounds!'

Several hands went up, and the bidding mounted rapidly, with Maria, the elegant middle-aged lady, and the hunk very much to the fore. The hunk and his lady-friend seemed to be acting very much in tandem on this, as far as I could see.

At a thousand pounds or so, Maria dropped out of the reckoning, and my Mistress obviously thought the bidding needed a boost.

'On your knees!' she ordered, and I obeyed, my back to the audience. Mistress Rosa, pulled my skirt up to my waist, exposing me to all and sundry, then put her foot between my legs, pushing my knees apart, so that my pussy was lewdly displayed, the weighted chain dangling down from my clit. They could also see the marks of my recent caning, dark red, livid welts.

'Come on,' she said, 'show them your cunt, like a good little slut!'

I obediently reached between my legs, hampered by my wrist-cuffs, and used both hand to spread my labia as wide as I was able, showing the moist pinkness of my pussy, with the warm dark hole of my cunt an invitation to the lucky winner.

'Now,' called Rosa, 'who wants to bid more for this gorgeous creature? Remember, an hour with her – there is no limit to what you can do with her in an hour.'

To emphasise the point, she fetched me a resounding slap across my arse, which made me gasp.

Bidding resumed, but I was unable to see who was raising their hands. Things slowed at one thousand eight hundred, and my Mistress finally 'knocked me down' at one thousand eight hundred and fifty pounds, to Mr and Mrs Butler. 

I confidently expected that they would turn out to be the platinum blonde and the hunk, and looked forward to an hour in the Mistress's bedroom with them. I fancied the idea of stripping that fishnet tube off the platinum blonde's delectable body, not to mention being fucked by the muscular 'hunk.'

My Mistress pulled me to my feet, and said, 'You'd better meet the winners, my dear!'

I was both surprised, and, to be truthful, disappointed, when she presented me to a studious looking young guy wearing square glasses, a checked shirt and corduroy trousers, accompanied by a pale girl with long brown hair, dressed in a shapeless long brown shift-dress.

'This, as you now know, is Julie,' she told them, and gave them directions to her room.

'I've left a selection of toys out for you – feel free to use whatever you want, and don't feel rushed – you can take more time, if you need it,' she said, giving the end of my leash to Mr Butler, who told me his name was Gary, and his wife was called Ann. They led me to my Mistress's room. As I had expected, she had left everything prepared – the curtain which normally concealed the St. Andrew's Cross drawn back, the chain lowered from the ceiling, a tray of 'toys' including a crop, a flogger and two whips, on the dresser. Gary looked around in wonderment.

'As we have time,' said Gary, 'sit with us a minute, while I tell you about us.'

I nodded and the three of us sat on the sofa, me between the two of them, conscious of Gary's hand on my thigh, gently stroking. I responded by putting mine on the bulge in his trousers, which grew instantly. Ann seemed not to notice at my other side, her own thigh warm against mine.

'We won the lottery about a year ago,' he told me, 'a lot of money. And most of it is still intact. We live well on the interest, but something is lacking in our lives. Ann can't ..... can't.....climax.'

I half-turned to look at her, and her gaze was downcast. I turned back to Gary.

'Have you seen anyone?'

'Yes – a sexologist says it has to do with her being brutally violated by her stepfather, but can't offer any help otherwise.'

'So what do you think I can do?' I wanted to know.

'Ann wants me to hurt her, like her stepfather did – keeps saying so, but I can't bring myself to do it. We thought ......, well, we thought you might do it?'

'Gary, I'm a slave,' I said, 'I'm the one who gets hurt – I need that too!'

'Please, Julie,' he said, 'you know what to do, and you're used to that kind of thing – please help us!'

I nodded reluctantly, but Gary was already on his feet, pulling Ann to hers. I stood too, and watched as Gary unfastened the clasps at the shoulders of Ann's shift. It fell from her white body, leaving her stark naked, small, almost non-existent breasts topped by nice, puffy nipples, the outline of ribs visible on her slender frame, long brown hair falling to her waist. 

'Can I wear those, for a start?' she asked, in a tiny voice, touching the chain connecting my nipple clamps.

'They hurt!' I said, unscrewing them. Not as much as they hurt me, I thought! The blood rushed into my tortured nipples, which had been subjected to them – very tightly – for a long time, and I gasped in agony.

I fitted them carefully to Ann's nice nipples, first kneading and pulling at them to give me room, and she moaned a little at their feel – a good sign, I thought.

'Unfasten my shackles, Ann, please,' I told her, and she quickly released my wrists and ankles from their chains. I took off the cuffs from my wrists, and gave them to Gary to put on his wife, while I paid a much-needed visit to the toilet. 

When I returned, she was wearing the cuffs, and looked strangely proud, standing there with the nipple-clamps attached, and her wrists cuffed, in nothing but her high heels.

I decided it might be best to hook her up to the chain rather than the cross – giving me more options as to how I could whip her. I told Gary to clip her wrists to the snap link on the end of the chain, which was down at shoulder level, then pressed the button to retract it up to a suitable height, pulling her arms up to near full-stretch. 

'Are you sure about this?' I asked Ann, and she nodded.

'That's not good enough,' I told her, 'I want you to ask me to hurt you!'

'Please, Julie,' she whispered, 'whip me. Hurt me, please!'

I took up the flogger, in effect a leather cat o'nine tails, and, for the first time ever, tried it in my hand. It felt easy enough to wield, and made a swish as it flew through the air, but I knew from experience that it did little real harm. I gave her a couple of medium strokes across the tops of her breasts, reddening the flesh nicely, but drawing no more than a gasp from Ann with each blow. Gary stood behind me, and I could hear his breath coming almost in gulps, as his hand snaked around and cupped my breast. He came up closer, and now I felt his big erection pressing into my arse, as I gave hi wife another, harder thwack, this time across her stomach, raising a nice little pattern of red stripes as the thongs bit home. She moaned, and I followed my Mistress's example, brusquely feeling her pussy, and finding it already moist – her juices were running!

'She's damp!' I told Gary, 'I think a few strokes of the crop will do the trick.'

I moved around behind her now, and threw the heavy mane of her hair over her shoulder, out of my way, then changed the flogger for the long leather riding crop.

'I'm going to hurt you now, darling,' I told her, 'that's what you want, isn't it?'

'Oh yes,' she managed to reply, and I saw that Gary now had forgotten any inhibition he may have had, and had his cock in his hand, a nice one too, I thought, and wondered if I'd get it inside me.

Carried away by that thought, I probably lashed Ann harder than I had intended, catching her squarely across the shoulder-blades with the vicious, stinging crop, raining a lovely red wheal, and causing her to cry out loudly.

'Quiet!' I said, and repeated the stroke, lower down, raising another pretty stripe on her white, tender flesh. 

'Oh, oh, argh!,' she wailed, and Gary was suddenly beside me, thrusting his throbbing cock into my free hand, as I lashed his wife again, lower still down her arched back.

'Oh, oh, oh, I'm cumming, I'm cumming!' she yelled, and I threw down the crop, putting a hand into the warmth of her sopping cunt, as she convulsed and came with a force born of years of effective celibacy.

'Julie, ' whispered Gary, 'my turn?'

I dropped to my knees and took his cock in my lips, letting my tongue-stud play for a second on his crown, then pulled him deep within my throat, and sucked him hard. He came in an instant, splattering the back of my throat with his hot pent-up spunk until I thought he would never finish.

'I'm sorry, Ann,' he said, when he'd done, and I was letting her down.

'It's OK, darling,' she said, 'we both owe a lot to Julie.'

Yes, I thought, and I need paying back! I was no dominatrix, but whipping Ann, then having her husband cum in my mouth, had set me well on the way to a climax that was now waiting in the wings. I sat back on the bed, flung up my skirt, and my fingers found their way in between my warm, wet, puffy labia, teasing my already-erect clit into a rock-hard bullet. To my surprise, Ann was by my side, almost before I knew it, and her hand was over mine.

'Let me do that, please!' she implored me, 'I've never......' She didn't finish the sentence, but if she had been going to declare her inexperience, it wasn't apparent, as she drove me back onto the bed, kissing me furiously, her fingers busily tugging, fascinated, aat the chain depending from my clit, and plunging deep into my cunt.

'Oh, Ann,' I said, 'that's lovely. Now eat me, darling! Suck my pussy!' 

She needed no further asking, and dived down, her tongue lapping the length of my crack, then driving down within me. I reached down with both hands to stretch open my arsehole, and she took the cue, thrusting in a forefinger, whilst her tongue simultaneously penetrated my fuckhole.

My orgasm came in a sudden, ecstatic rush, the accumulated excitement of the whole evening packed into the moment, as I almost lost consciousness, my juices welled up, and I heard, as if from a distance, Ann saying, 'Ooh, she's squirted on me, mmm, lovely!'

I only then realised that Gary had been beside me all the time, fondling my breasts, and watching closely as his wife brought me to my climax.

Afterwards, Gary passed me their card, saying I was welcome to visit them whenever I wanted. I didn't think I would.

'Miss Julie, it is beautiful morning. I bring coffee!' A smiling Pilar was standing by my bed, the morning after my being 'auctioned off,' carrying a breakfast tray. I was ravenous. The coffee was hot and I patted the bed, indicating that the maid should sit with me whilst it cooled. 

'Did anyone do anything to you last night?' I asked, remembering her totally transparent outfit.

'He try fucky-fuck me, but Mistress she no let him,' she said.

'Who tried?' I asked, amused at her attempt at English.

'He guapo, with pretty woman,' she said.

So the 'hunk' had tried it on with Pilar, but Mistress Rosa had intervened – wanted to save her maid for something else, no doubt. But Pilar was looking a bit downcast about it, as if she had been deprived of a bit of fun, as no doubt she had.

I didn't have long to wait to find out more. Over breakfast, in the conservatory, Mistress Rosa asked me if I had enjoyed my evening with Gary and Ann. When I told her about it, she was amused.

'And I thought you were sure to be whipped,' she said, 'never mind, I'll see to it that you don't miss out.'

My Mistress was obviously wondering whether to tell me something, and after a while he seemed to make up her mind: 'Julie,' she said, 'there's something you may be able to help me with. I think Pilar would like to become a slave – I think she has it in her – and my sister has been seeking one for a long time. Would you help me prepare her?'

Why yes, of course, Mistress, if that's what you want,' I said.

'Thank you darling,' she said, then, 'come to my room after lunch, will you, dear, I'd like an hour with you.'

I was eager, as ever, to spend time with my Mistress, and lunch couldn't come soon enough. When it did, I hurried through it alone in the dining room. Then I went back to my room to prepare carefully, as I always did, for my owner.

Knowing she liked jewellery, when I had finished my make-up, I clipped the silver chain she had bought me around my waist, and put in long, long silver pendant ear-rings. I pondered for a long time about what I should wear, and eventually decided on a black silk halter-neck cocktail-dress, mid-thigh length, with a full skirt that swirled around as I walked. My unfettered breasts jiggled around when I danced in front of my mirror. I wondered about stockings, and decided to go completely naked under the dress, so I completed my outfit with an anklet and a pair of ridiculously high Lucite stilettos. I looked critically at my hair, and wondered about putting it up, but thought better of it, and just brushed it out to a silken sheen. I was ready to see my Mistress.

'Come in!' she called – she had heard the click of my heels in the corridor.

She looked me up and down.

'Why didn't you put your hair up?' she asked, sharply.

'I...I thought........'

'You didn't think at all – that's the truth isn't it, you little slut?' she said, and I nodded dumbly, knowing I should have put my hair up, really, as it would be in the way if I was to be whipped. And now I knew I was to be whipped.




Wheals of Fortune Ch. 03



My Mistress, who had been lounging on the sofa, wearing a silk kimono and reading a magazine, put down the reading matter, and stood up.

'Turn around!' she ordered, and I did so.

She had deftly produced a couple of hairpins from somewhere, and pinned up my hair in a moment, then flipped open the bow which fastened my dress at the back of my neck. The dress simply fell to the floor in a whisper of soft silk, leaving me naked and shivering, though it wasn't cold. My Mistress gave my body a lingering, but almost contemptuous caress, and then said, 'Kneel, and put your hands behind your head!'

I fell to my knees, and hardly dared watch as my Mistress strode over to her dresser, and the tray she hadn't moved since the night before. She returned with the one instrument I dreaded, the switch, a thin, supple cane, which I had never yet felt, but knew would hurt terribly.

'I think it's high time you got a taste of a real switch. You'll find it hurts a great deal.' 

'Yes Mistress,' I replied, meekly. I was scared of being hurt, certainly, but trusted and loved my Mistress, and knew she would bring me ecstasy too.

Without delay, she lashed me fiercely just below my shoulder-blades. It stung dreadfully, and I couldn't help crying out sharply at the sudden pain.

'Yes, it hurts, doesn't it, she said, 'I know, my dear, I've felt it too!'

Her last words so shocked m that I was scarcely ready for the next terrible, cutting stroke, as it flayed my tender back. I craned over my shoulder and saw that the red wheals it left were of an order I had never before seen on my flesh – livid red stripes which would last weeks. But my Mistress had been caned too! This was hard to digest, and the next cruel lashing was accompanied by the knowledge of her complicity, which somehow added to the excitement – the erotic component which fuelled my inner fires.

My Mistress's fourth vicious stroke made me writhe, but I felt the familiar impending, exciting, surge of a furious orgasm mounting deep within me as the awful pain, and the knowledge of my Mistress's love and togetherness with me, as well as her domination, all combined to take me into a dimension I wanted the whole world to be able to share with me – but knew suddenly that few people ever could. I screamed as I came, and my Mistress knew, knew what she had done to me, as she threw down the switch and cradled me in her arms.

'My dear Julie,' was all she said.

After a long time, she told me to take Pilar to my bed that night, and that then she would think about how to start training the girl from tomorrow.

At dinner, I winced as I sat on the high-backed chair, having temporarily forgotten the fresh wounds on my back, and Pilar asked me if I was alright.

'You can help soothe my pain tonight,' I told her, but she didn't understand, so I took her by her slim wrist, and said clearly, 'you are to sleep with me tonight, Pilar!'

She fairly skipped through the rest of her work, serving the meal with a smile all over her face, and I told her to come to my room at eleven.

I was brushing my hair when she knocked on my door, ready for bed, in my short silk nightdress.

'Get undressed, and have a shower, if you want,' I told her, and when she came back from the bathroom, wrapped in my towelling robe, I gave her a little white baby-doll nightie I had found in the drawer. She turned away coyly as she put it on – as if I hadn't seen her in her transparent maid's outfit already. I reached out and took hold of her wrist, pulling her with me to the bed. 

Just as we were getting into the satin sheets, my bedside phone rang. It was Mistress Rosa.

'I hope you two weren't asleep,' she said.

'No, Mistress,' I replied, 'we were just going to bed.'

'Good,' she said, 'because I've been thinking. After your little episode with Ann, I think you can manage to do this. I would like you to have an affectionate night with our little friend, then, first thing in the morning, drag her out of bed and whip her. There's a "cat" in your bottom drawer – use that!'

'But Mistress, she trusts me, and likes me!'

'And you trust me, too, darling, don't you?'

'Oh, I love you, Mistress, you know!' I admitted.

'There you are then,' she said, and rang off. I glanced at Pilar, but she showed no sign of having followed the rapid English of my conversation. I took her in my arms, and she sighed contentedly, then remembered, and, reaching beneath the soft silk of my nightdress, gently traced the lines of my wheals. I fished a pot of balm from my bedside drawer, and gave it to her to administer to me, then shrugged the straps from my shoulders so that she had access to the ladder of stripes I had been given.

She had a lovely, delicate touch, as she worked the soothing ointment into the livid wounds, and after a moment or two, couldn't resist letting her hands wander around to cup my firm breasts, and knead them tenderly, tweaking my sensitive nipples and testing them in her fingers as they grew and hardened under her touch. I turned towards her and kissed her pulling her head towards me, and forcing my tongue between her lips, my silver stud clicking across the crowns of her perfect white teeth as she gasped and yielded her mouth to my onslaught. Next I moved down and gently bit her brown nipples through the thin, transparent nylon of her nightie, causing her to moan loudly, and writhe, thrusting her whole body hard against mine. She was ready for this! I pulled up the hem of her flimsy garment and repeated the treatment I had given her nipples, this time without the minimal impediment of her nightie. After a few seconds, I traced her body with my tongue, down, down, across her flat stomach, down to her naked pubis. I eased her slim legs apart with both hands, and the sweetness of her pussy lay before me. Her lips were neat, the inner ones concealed, and I opened her like a clam, exposing the pinkness of her cunt, its warm moistness already apparent. I found her little clitoris, a hard little bullet, and flicked it with my tongue stud, causing Pilar to moan and groan. 

Quickly, I threw my leg over her shoulder, trapping her in a '69' position, and practically forcing her to plunge her tongue into my own pussy, as I now did into hers.

I loved the tight velvet sheath of her hot little cunt, and almost roughly pulled her arse-cheeks apart to open her to me, so that I could lap her completely, between my deepest thrusts. When I knew she was about to cum, and my own juices too were welling up, for the second time in a very few hours, I opted for the coup de grace, and rammed my finger straight into her virgin rectum, as deep as it would go. She screamed and shuddered as she came, her fluids evident around my face. 

I needed a little longer, and told her to carry on. She obeyed, and soon brought me to a gentle, gratifying climax. I let her go to the bathroom, and then followed her there. Afterwards, we slept, entwined in each others' arms. I was secretly very glad of having someone else in my bed at last – it had been a long time since I had slept with anyone. At some stage during the night, we were both awake, and we masturbated one another gently for perhaps twenty minutes of sheer joy, our silk- and nylon-clad bodies rubbing together sensuously as we kissed.

I had put what my Mistress told me out of my mind until morning, but when I awoke to the new day, I knew it had to be faced.

'Come on, get out of bed!' I said, harshly, thinking – I really, really, don't want to do this!

Pilar looked totally shocked, but let me drag her out of bed, without resistance. I made her bend over the back of the sofa – her baby-doll fell down over her head and arms, and her naked buttocks were presented to me. I quickly went to the dresser and took the leather flogger from the bottom drawer. Back at the sofa, I raised Pilar's head by means of a handful of her long black hair, and showed her the instrument.

'Oh no!' she gasped, 'I good girl!'

'Yes,' I said, 'Mistress Rosa says you must learn.'

I gave the 'cat' a trial swish through the air, and then rained it down hard on her pretty, rounded arse. Not accustomed to being whipped, she squirmed, and yelled, so that I had to threaten to gag her, but she somehow managed to endure five more strokes, by which time the flogger had made its characteristic tracery of fine red lines on a background of nice pink skin, and I thought my Mistress would be satisfied. Pilar was weeping softly when I told her I had finished, and she came into my arms and kissed me feverishly, as if I had just given her a wonderful present.

'Mistress say I may be slave,' she said, 'and now I am whipped. I be good slave, yes?'

'You have a lot to learn, Pilar,' I told her, 'but, yes, you will be a good slave, I think.'

As soon as she had dressed, I sent her off to prepare breakfast, and report to Mistress Rosa, who I knew would want to inspect my handiwork, and would probably think I had been too lenient.

Sure enough, when I saw her over coffee, she smiled and said, 'I have inspected Pilar and see you are no dominatrix, Julie.'

'No, Mistress,' I said, my eyes cast respectfully downwards.

'Thank you for trying, anyway,' she said, 'you have made a start.'

When the young Spaniard came to take away the dirty plates, Mistress Rosa caught her wrist in a vice-like grip, and spoke to her in rapid Spanish. The girl looked scared as she scurried off to the kitchen with her tray rattling in response to her nervous tremble.

'What did you say to her, Mistress?' I risked asking.

'I told her that I should personally continue her training this afternoon. And you should be present, now that I think about it, yes!'

She went on to tell me that she had promised her sister that Pilar would be ready to go to her in about a week's time, so we had little time to lose, if we were to prepare her properly to serve Maria and her husband.

It was the first time I had heard that Maria had a husband, and I asked about him.

'Oh, he's not often there,' said Mistress Rosa, 'but when he is....' She rolled her eyes, and I was left wondering what that signified.

After lunch, I was summoned to the library by my Mistress, and found her there talking to Pilar, both sitting in armchairs, for all the world like two friends having a chat. But when I arrived, she said, 'OK, Julie, you did your best this morning, and made a start on this little slut, but she needs to be shown what to expect from my sister, who is much stricter than I am.' She turned to the little maid, and said in harsh tones, 'Undress!' 

Shocked, Pilar stood, and slipped out of her apron and little black dress, and started to peel off the hold-up stockings which were her only other items of apparel.

'You can leave them on!' snapped Rosa, and bade me fetch a bucket from the adjoining closet.

'Now, piss for us,' said my Mistress, and Pilar squatted obediently over the bucket, but nothing happened.

'Piss!' yelled my Mistress, and Pilar shook, but nothing transpired, and Mistress Rosa stood and gave her a resounding slap across the face.

'When I say piss, you piss!' she rapped at the poor embarrassed girl, who now managed a paltry yellow trickle. The Mistress put her hand into the little stream and brought it to Pilar's lips, making her taste her own piss.

'That's what you'll drink if you don't obey me!' she said, dramatically. I saw that she was deliberately humiliating Pilar, to prepare her for her new life of servitude.

My Mistress handed me a pair of wrist-cuffs, and told me to put them on to Pilar's slim wrists, and then hook her up to the ceiling-chain. I did this, and Mistress Rosa immediately stood up, made sure that the maid could just about touch the floor, thanks to hr stilettos, and said to me, 'Right, Julie, come on, let's go and have a cup of tea!' Before I could reply, she was out of the door, and I had no choice but to follow, with a backward glance at the poor little girl, semi-suspended, tears rolling down her cheeks.

The Mistress chuckled wickedly as we ordered a cup of tea from the kitchen staff.

'I'll have her licked into shape in no time, you'll see,' she said. I didn't doubt it.

We didn't spend long over our tea at all, but were soon back in the Mistress's room, where Pilar had composed herself, and was now looking much calmer, awaiting her fate. But deftly, behind Pilar's back, Mistress Rosa now produced her favourite riding crop from her dresser, and, in three quick strides, was up behind the Spanish maid. Tenderly, she stroked her breasts with her left hand, and then, with completely unexpected, vicious force, stepped back and lashed her lower back with the crop.

Pilar cried out loudly, an awful, wailing scream, as the leather crop bit into her unmarked young flesh, raising a scarlet welt the whole width of her back. Rapidly, Mistress Rosa produced a ball-gag from somewhere, and passed it to me. I quickly buckled it around Pilar's head, forcing the big red ball between her teeth, as she gasped and gagged at its acute discomfort.

A soon as it was fitted, my Mistress whipped her again, just above the first stroke, raising another red wheal, and causing Pilar to dance and writhe under her bonds. The sound that came from her showed that she would have dearly loved to scream, but the gag did its jib. Mistress Rosa discarded the crop, and picked up a slim leather paddle, then turned her attention to Pilar's small breasts, giving her three sharp, stinging blows just above and between them. Broad pink stripes appeared across her pale skin, and she struggled and pulled against her chains, tears now flowing down her cheeks. Her breath was coming, however, in short gasps, and I could tell she was starting to feel the heat within the very centre of her, as the punishment continued. After all, she had wanted to be a slave, and must have known what the regime would entail. I knew, only too well, the thin line between pain and pleasure, the line that could never be defined.

As if she was reading my mind, my Mistress, without putting down the paddle, felt Pilar's crack with her free hand.

'Wet through!' she announced, with a smile, and rained a stinging slash on her buttocks with the paddle, causing the maid to draw in breath quite noticeably and shudder hard, so that I was certain she had just had an orgasm.

Mistress Rosa unclipped her victim from the overhead chain, and told her to get dressed, ignoring her as if she were of no consequence, while she chatted to me about domestic matters. She appeared then to notice Pilar, as she stood awkwardly in a corner, and said, 'Don't just stand there, girl! You are free for the rest of the day. Tomorrow morning, I shall take you to be fitted with a corset. From today, you will be whipped daily, and you will wear clamps on alternate days. In a week, you must be prepared. Now go!' I noticed she now spoke to her in English, and took that as an appreciation of my teaching ability.

During the next few days, I noticed a gradual change in Pilar's comportment. She took on a haughty air as she walked about, and when I asked her how she was getting on, she proudly unbuttoned her silk blouse, and showed me her silver nipple-clamps, tightly screwed down, their connecting chain dangling over her cruel, whale-boned black corset.

'I have clamps here also,' she said, patting her pubis, and I couldn't resist raising her tiny miniskirt. True enough, two clamps were tightly screwed onto her outer labia, and were connected by a length of silver chain, which only just failed to show below the hem of her skirt. Her lips were thus dragged down and stretched, so that she must have been in constant pain from them. I also saw that she had a small butt-plug inserted in her anus. With the corset pulling in her 24" waist to a mere 22", and a pair of the highest stilettos available, she must have been in permanent acute discomfort. I asked her about it.

'Yes, Julie,' she said, 'but I learn to enjoy pain, yes?'

She told me there was nothing she enjoyed more than when she was tied up and whipped every day, and I felt a pang of jealousy, as my Mistress had neglected my own punishment for the time being, though I knew it was temporary.

The day came when Maria came to collect Pilar.

'We'll have to find another servant now,' said Mistress Rosa, 'you can help me, my dear!'

I looked forward to that. 



Wheals of Fortune Ch. 04



Everyone in this story is over 18, and so should you be! It's a fantasy, carrying on the saga of Julie, which has occupied three parts of this story already, so it will make more sense if you've already read them. As with all my stories, the emphasis is on consensual relations – I have no truck with rape and suchlike unpleasantness, and am an ardent feminist at heart.

Pilar had left, to become slave to Rosa's sister Maria, and I was left alone in the house, save for the silent – and usually invisible – cook, Lola, who seldom strayed from the kitchen. Only when Rosa and her husband, the stern and mysterious Mr Gordon, were at home, did I have company. I was told that, at all times I was in their presence, I had to be similarly dressed – or undressed.

My sole items of clothing were a flame red whale-boned corset, which must have been two sizes too small for my already slender waist, and felt at first as if it would cut me in half. Clipped to its long garter-straps was a pair of seamed black stockings. The corset left my breasts uncovered, and I was required to wear silver nipple-clamps, their connecting chain weighted with a jewelled silver ball, which matched a similar one dangling from the ring in my clit, and two smaller ones on long pendants depending from my earlobes. Silver-heeled stilettos completed my outfit, apart, of course, from my Mistress's precious collar, which I wore with much pride, day and night. My long hair was to be left brushed straight, cascading to my waist.

On the occasions when my Mistress and Mr Gordon wished to take me out, I simply put on a dress over my indoor apparel. Once we went to lunch, and I put on a knee-length black silk button-through dress with full skirt, whilst when we went out to dinner, I wore a long shimmering gold organdie gown, the skirt tight about my ankles, the bodice translucent, so that my clamped nipples presented tantalising glimpses.

'You looked lovely tonight, Julie,' said my Mistress, when we arrived back at the mansion, 'do come to my room in ten minutes, please!'

I did as she ordered, and, trembling slightly, knocked and entered, hobbling in the tightness of my skirt. My Mistress stood my the window, already changed from her grey velvet gown into a sheer white nightgown, her black hair loosened from the French knot she had worn it in at the restaurant, and falling luxuriously down her back.

'Take your dress off, dear,' she said, gently enough, and I reached behind and unzipped it, the quickly wriggled out of it, so that I stood in front of her in my habitual 'slave's uniform.'

'Let me look at you, darling,' she said, coming up close, so that I couldn't fail to inhale the scent of Guerlain she carried with her. I was filled with desire for her, as she ran her fingers over my breasts, but I realised she was inspecting my most recent stripes, the ones she had made two days ago when she had whipped my breasts with the small dog-whip, before her husband had perforated the tender skin just above my breasts with two long needles. The memory of her then tightening fiercely my clamps, while Mr Gordon thrust his great cock deep into my anus almost made my cum again, as I had on that occasion.

'I notice your skin is still marked, Julie,' said my Mistress, 'but we must repeat that some time soon, don't you think?'

'Oh yes, Mistress, yes please,' I said.

She kissed me, and I pushed my studded tongue gently between her teeth, knowing what she liked, and drew a moan from her. Soon her hands were behind me, busily unlacing my corset, and I felt the instant relief and freedom as its constriction fell away.

'Don't move!' ordered Mistress Rosa, though, and stepped away to her dresser, returning with a pair of handcuffs, which she clipped around my wrists. She then led me to the wall close to the window, where a thick metal ring was cemented in to the brickwork just above head-height, and a snap-link hung from it. Without ceremony, she clipped my cuffs to it, and swept my long mane of hair over my shoulder, and out of her way.

As if by magic, she produced a long, leather single-tail whip.

'I'm going to hurt you, darling!' she said. She always announced her intention beforehand, and I think I savoured the anticipation of the pain she was about to administer.

'You want that, don't you?'

'Yes Mistress, yes please,' I heard myself say, and her first awful stroke fell across the tender flesh of my shoulder blades, a stinging, cruel lash, that made me moan , and brought tears flooding down my cheeks. 

'This will make you very beautiful, my dear,' said my Mistress, 'and it's already making me terribly excited!' 

Another fearsome, whistling stroke flew through the air, and landed with a crack on my pale skin, raising a bright red welt, the very end of which I could just see by peering over my shoulder. I cried out loud, but felt the inevitable tingle somewhere deep in my groin which signalled a building orgasm that I knew was not going to be denied.

My Mistress caressed my breasts tenderly, tugging gently at the chain of my clamps, then, taking me by surprise, lashed me again, much lower down, just above my buttocks, so that I writhed and bucked as the awful thong bit into my naked flesh. Another blow followed on straight away, and I came, instantly, noisily, squirting my fluid messily down my leg as I was overtaken by the sort of orgasm only pain and pleasure can combine to bring.

Mistress Rosa released me immediately, and cradled me in her arms, guiding me infinitely gently to her bed. Once there, we kissed and made love, so that time stood still. No longer Mistress and slave, we were two eager, passionate lovers, sharing a night of tenderness and giving that lifted my heart to a new dimension. During the night she whispered to me that I must call her by her name when we made love like this, and also told me that one day soon she would want me to play a reverse role and punish her as she so frequently did me. I answered her by grazing her pussy with my tongue-stud, in a way that I knew drove her wild, then plunging my tongue deep into the smooth, dark velvet cavern of her anus, so that she groaned and writhed as an instant climax took her.

In the morning, after we had slept entwined in each others' arms, a surprise awaited me. Mistress Rosa couldn't wait to go down to breakfast to give me the envelope she had ready for me in her drawer.

When I opened it, I gasped. For it contained a return ticket to Madrid, in my name, for the next day.

'What...what the...?' I spluttered.

She enjoyed my surprise.

'You deserve a holiday, my dear,' she said, 'and my other sister, Ana, whom you haven't met, still lives in Spain, where she has a hotel and restaurant. She will pick you up at the airport, and I have arranged for you to relax there for two weeks.'

'Oh, Mistress Rosa, you are so kind,' I said, and kissed her.

'There's some sort of method in my madness, however,' she said, 'I'm never going to find a maid here in England. It's not a condition of your holiday, but if you can keep your eyes open for a likely recruit............?'

'Of course I will, Mistress,' I said, 'it's the least I can do.' Then, as an afterthought, 'does your sister speak English, by the way?'

She laughed, 'Not very well, but you've picked up a bit of Spanish from Pilar – you'll be OK.'

The Iberia flight landed on time at Barajas airport, and I noted the pleasing increase in temperature as I nervously awaited my suitcase, wondering how I should recognise Ana.

I needn't have worried. As emerged from the flight area, a slightly shorter, chubbier version of Rosa, dressed in jeans and a floppy tee-shirt, was holding up a piece of cardboard with 'JULIE' printed on it.

She kissed me in the Spanish manner I had by now become used to, and we found her big, untidy Mercedes on the third floor of a big parking stack.

She chattered away in a horrible mixture of Spanish and English as she drove equally badly through the busy Madrid traffic, then we were out on the open motorway, and I felt I could relax a bit.   

An hour later, after a fast run along a quiet motorway, and a long, undulating drive through sunlit rolling uplands, Ana announced that we were almost there. I knew that the hotel was close to the ancient city of Toledo, and I could see its spires sticking up over the horizon as we approached along a fairly busy stretch of main road. The hotel was bigger than I had envisaged, standing back from the highway, behind a huge parking lot, which just then held a couple of big articulated lorries and three or four new-looking cars. The bar, which occupied the whole front of the ground floor, was ablaze with light, and music issued forth as I took my suitcase from Ana's car. The light was just starting to fail, but it wasn't yet time for dinner. The air was warm and fragrant, and I was soon made to feel welcome, first when I was introduced to two young lads, Sergio and Ramon, who worked in the bar, then when Ana's husband, Paco, emerged from the kitchen in his chef's uniform, to give me a bear-hug.

Sergio showed me to my room, trying out his English, and very eager to please – I thought he might well be seeking a little reward for his services at some point, and he was a nice-looking young man!

I hadn't the energy then for any more than dinner – which was very good – and an early night.

Next morning, I went down to look for some coffee, and found Ana bustling around in the bar, cleaning ashtrays and polishing tables. She offered me the use of her moped for my visit, and I took her up on it, not without a little trepidation.

For the next few days, I explored the alleyways, museums, little shops and churches of the wonderful old city, taking my time drinking my cafés cortados outside on the pavements of the squares and plazas, watching the world go by, and being, inevitably, chatted up by locals, and tourists alike. Mindful of Rosa's quest for a new maid, I spotted plenty of suitable young women, but they all seemed to be either on the arm of a handsome young man, or somehow unapproachable. 

About a hundred metres from the hotel, and on the opposite side of the road, was a massive night club, called 'Las Flores' which at night sported more illumination than Christmas on Regent Street, reds, blues and greens flashing on and off.

I asked Ana if it was worth going there for a dance.

She laughed. 'That is what we call a puticlub,' she said, 'only men go there!' And she made a lewd gesture, thumb and forefinger making a circle through which her other forefinger passed. 'We are on a main road, you see – there are many such places in Spain.'

About a week into my stay, when I was no longer spending the whole of my days in the city, and tended to relax a bit more, I noticed that girls from the club frequented the hotel bar, to sit and talk and drink coffee, at around midday. They didn't look Spanish, any of them – largely, I thought, Eastern Europeans, and a few obviously Caribbean or South American girls. They sat around chatting amiably over their coffees, dressed informally in jeans and tee-shirts, but they carried with them that aura of the professional girl that can't be shaken off. 

One girl interested me. A dark blonde, her shoulder-length hair caught up in a pony-tail, she seemed to set herself subtly apart from the rest. She was always on the periphery, or even sat alone, and invariably wore a skirt and blouse, as if she were deliberately making some kind of statement. When all the others seemed to smoke, I noticed that she didn't, and when all the others flirted with Sergio and Ramon – and even with Paco when Ana wasn't around – she remained quietly withdrawn. I decided, on one of these occasions, to try and talk to her, and wandered alongside her with my coffee in my hand.

'Hello,' I said, 'I'm Julie, here on holiday. Mind if I join you?'

She smiled wanly at me, showing pretty brown eyes, in a rather sad, oval face.

'I am Greta,' she said, 'I speak not good English.'

Despite that assertion, I soon established that she was Romanian, and that she had been brought to the club on false promises that she was going to be earning big bucks as a dancer. The villains who had come to her village had shown her photos of plush night-clubs, with girls wearing exotic costumes, dancing on huge stages, surrounded by elegant diners. She had been buttered up with flattery about her youthful beauty, and her family's poverty had been a deciding factor. She had also been told that she would be able to work in France and England, which was where she really wanted to go.

I listened to her with sympathy, but she was dry-eyed, and when I asked her about the club, she said, 'The girls are OK, but most are Russian. I like best the Brazilians.'

'And the customers?' I asked.

'Most of the men are nice – good to me,' she said, 'some are horrible, of course!' She made a face. 'But very bad is the boss, who takes nearly all our money, and wants to fuck in the morning, when we want to sleep. He is a horrible, smelly pig.'

I liked Greta, instantly, and immediately started to think of her in terms of my Mistress's quest for a maid, without knowing whether it would be possible to snaffle her away from the club. I could see huge problems there, so I just asked her if she would like to come to England with me, without entering into any details. She was ecstatic at the suggestion. 'I do anything, anything, to come with you, Julie,' she said.

'Go now,' I told her, 'and I'll see what I can do. I can't promise anything, you understand?'

She nodded, and, looking back with a smile, went out and across the road to her night's labours.

I set about contacting my Mistress right away. She seemed pleased to hear from me, and happy that I was enjoying my stay. When I told her about Greta, she wanted me to describe her minutely. I did my best.

'She sounds lovely,' said Mistress Rosa, 'and I trust your judgement, Julie. Let me talk to Ana, and we'll see if there's anything we can do, eh?'

With that, she got me to transfer her to her sister, who was the only other person in the TV lounge, where the telephone was, close to me, and I heard part of their long exchange, in rapid Spanish – it went on for almost half an hour.

'OK,' said Ana, when she put the receiver down, 'tomorrow, midday, we get this Greta, and we go to town, yes?' 

I nodded my assent, wondering what they had planned, but knowing not to underestimate the two sisters.  

Next day, Greta came in as usual, and sat apart from her workmates – also as usual. I walked past her table, and said quietly, 'Stay behind when the other girls go.' She looked up at me and smiled, giving a small nod of her head.

As soon as the coast was clear, the three of us got into Ana's car and went into town, where we parked in an underground lot belonging to a modern office complex. In a few minutes we were in the fifth floor office of her lawyer, Señor Tabernas.

A slick-looking forty-something, wearing a button-down striped shirt but no tie, Tabernas was impressively bilingual, speaking to me in BBC English. He quickly pointed out that Romania was now a EU nation, and that Greta should have no trouble either in travelling to Britain, or working there. He said he would set about obtaining a passport for her immediately, in any case. The only problem he foresaw was with her existing employer, at the Club Las Flores, but he thought that a word with a friend in the Guardia Civil would soon smooth that out. Did we wish to go ahead, then?

I said yes, we did, and Tabernas suggested that Greta didn't return to the club again, but stayed with us in the hotel. I was due to return in three days' time, and he thought he could arrange for Greta to leave with me.

'But my clothes?' she asked, in the car, on the way back.

'We'll get you some new ones,' I said, without really knowing whether I could make such an offer.

She smiled back at me in a trusting way, and squeezed my hand as we drove along.

Ana suggested that Greta remain in my room, rather than show herself in the bar, for the remainder of my stay. I had agreed to share with her, as I had a double bed, and the room was quite spacious.

That evening we dined together in my room, off trays brought up by Sergio, who lingered as he opened the wine bottle, wondering, I could tell, if there was an opportunity of any kind for him. I didn't want to discourage him too much – he was really a very attractive young guy.

Afterwards, I showered, and returned, my hair wrapped in a towel, wearing a robe, to find Greta still dressed in jeans and tee shirt, nervously drumming her fingernails on the bedside table.

'You can take a shower, Greta, now, if you want,' I said.

'But I don't have a nightdress,' she blurted.

I laughed, and threw her one of my silk slips from a drawer. She smiled gratefully, and went into the bathroom, while I set about drying my hair.

She took her time, and when she came back, her hair was now loose – the first time I had seen her without the pony-tail – framing her small face, now devoid of make-up, but still pretty, and she was wearing the maroon silk slip, her nipples thrusting out hard against the soft material. By then, I too had changed into a slip, mine a pale blue one, and my hair was well on the way to being dry. I was sat at the dressing table.

Greta came up behind me. 'You are very pretty, Julie,' she said, 'are you a model?'

'No,' I laughed, 'I work for the lady you are going to work for – in a different capacity.'

I didn't think she would understand my role as a slave, and certainly didn't want to frighten her off. She seemed satisfied with my reply.

I took her hand in mine. 'I hope you will be happy working for my Mistress, Greta.'

She put her other hand on my shoulder, and then stroked my hair. 'I shall be happy to be with you, Julie,' she said.

I put my hand around her neck and pulled her head down to me. Her mouth met mine with a hunger which took me by surprise. I was missing sex – that I couldn't deny, it had been almost two weeks since I had slept with my Mistress – but Greta? She must have been fucked scores of times in that period. I pulled gently away.

'You like girls?' I asked her.

'I like you,' she replied, and I couldn't help noticing that her nipples had visibly grown and hardened under her slip. I touched them and she moaned softly, throwing her head back in response.

'I think we'd better go to bed, don't you?' I suggested.

'Yes, please,' she said, and followed me eagerly, when I climbed between the crisp white sheets. Our bodies entwined, and I let my tongue-stud play over her super-sensitive nipples, making her writhe in anticipation, before coursing down her body, over her flat stomach, pushing up the hem of her slip, finding the trim triangle of springy hair, then down to her neat, fragrant pussy, whose labia she obligingly parted with two long fingers so that I could lap the length of her slit, my stud bringing long, ecstatic sighs and moans of ecstasy from her as she mounted rapidly towards an orgasm.

I knew had the power to make her cum, and teased her, gently flicking at her clit, pulling it out from beneath its protecting hood, before licking her again, then encircling her anus with my tongue. When her breathing became shallow and rapid, and I knew she could hold off no longer, I simultaneously plunged my tongue deep into her cunt, and my forefinger as far as it would go into her arsehole. She screamed, and squirted her fluid into my face.

When her breathing recovered, she said, 'I'm sorry, Julie!'

'Don't be,' I said, 'now it's my turn!'

I manoeuvred around on the bed, pushing a pillow under my arse, and, grabbing the Romanian's hair, roughly impelled her to put her head between my legs. This was no time for ceremony – I was on fire! She knew what I wanted, and her tongue and fingers soon had me close to the edge. But I needed more, and reached over to the bedside drawer, for one of the dildos I had brought. I passed the tapered 'bulb' model, and she started to insert it in my damp cunt.




Wheals of Fortune Ch. 04



'No!' I said, and wiggled my arse. She understood at once, and started to ease the point of the taper into my eager anus. I longed for its pain and ecstasy, and when the cruel implement stretched my arsehole, and plunged deep within, I cried out for mercy I didn't want, took over the end from Greta, and pumped it for myself, just the couple of times necessary to be consumed by a raging climax. I sighed with relief when it was over, and we slept together that night like lovers, entwined in an embrace that lasted until morning.

Next day Ana took us to a Commercial Centre on the outskirts of Madrid, where she bought Greta a small suitcase, two changes of clothes, and all the cosmetics she would need. She had been in touch with her sister, and knew what to get, so I was no more than an observer, merely amused when Greta asked why she wasn't buying her any underwear. I knew Mistress Rosa would have forbidden it, to prepare the girl for her new life. Although she wasn't going to be a slave, at least for the time being, certain 'house rules' had to be observed, I knew. 

Next day was my last at the hotel, and I was going to be almost sad to leave. It was a lovely warm day, and I strolled alone on a path leading out into the woods at the rear of the hotel, wearing just a cotton sundress and sandals. Reaching a tinkling little stream, I sat on the bank, slipped off my sandals, and dangled my feet into the cool water. 

I hardly heard the approach of the bicycle until it was upon me, and Sergio, was looking down at me, having gently put his mountain bike down against a bush.

He smiled awkwardly, so I patted the grass beside me in an invitation for him to join me. He slid down by my side, and said, 'I am happy to see you, yes?'

He had a broad smile on his face, and he had exhausted his English, so I took his patted his arm to show I understood. He had changed into shorts, having finished his morning shift, and had nicely muscled legs, I noticed. 

I couldn't resist stroking his lower leg, and feeling the hardness of the muscle there.

'Good,' I said.

He looked at me uncertainly, and then replied by stroking my leg. 

'You also good,' he said, with a cheeky grin.

What the hell, I thought, and snaked my arm around his neck, pulling him towards me, and offering him my lips. He shuddered noticeably when he felt the unexpected thrill of my tongue-stud against the roof of his mouth, and I couldn't resist stroking my hand lightly over the front of his shorts – the bulge was interesting! He kissed me with a clumsiness that came of urgency coupled with inexperience, and I knew I shouldn't expect a lot from this raw youth. I pushed him gently away, and he mistook my action for rejection, but then saw I was smiling, and resembled a lost puppy. I slowly slid up the hem of my skirt, looking at him the whole time, the tip of my tongue darting out a fraction between slightly parted lips, in a gesture I knew few men could resist. When I looked downwards, then watched his reaction from under lowered eyelids, I saw his eyes flick down to my now-revealed pussy, and parted my legs so that he could see the pink promise of my crack. Then, slowly once again, I slipped two fingers between my legs, and eased my outer labia apart.

Sergio groaned as I showed him the moist haven of my cunt, the silver ring glinting in the sunlight as it hung from my clit. I spread my lips wide, affording him a view of the dark hole of my vagina, and, when I looked at him again, sweat was beading on his forehead, and running down his neck. 

I reached for the elasticated waistband of his shorts, and quickly pushed my way inside, finding his cock, hard as a rock, and as thick as any I had come across, but not very long.

I pushed down his shorts and his weapon sprung out in my hand.

'Oh, oh, Julie,' he gasped, and came, there and then, thick spurts of creamy cum covering my hand, wrist and arm.

'I'm sorry,' he said, 'sorry, sorry!'

'It's OK,' I said, 'have you got a tissue?'

He looked blank.

'Kleenex?' That drew a response, and he fished a packet out of his pocket. I cleaned up a bit, and then we sat together, companionably silent, watching the stream, listening to the snatches of birdsong, each with our own thoughts.

After a while, I tried a conversation, in my newly acquired Spanish, and asked him if he had a girlfriend. It seemed he had, but she wouldn't let him touch her until they got married. He was a virgin, and my heart went out to him. The discussion grew tender, and I kissed him again, more gently this time, and let him fondle my breasts. It was obviously so new and fresh for him, that it almost made me feel like a virgin again myself, and I found my nipples hardening to his touch. When I touched his cock this time, it was just growing hard, and his moans were those of a young man who is enjoying his first real sexual experience – now I knew.

I lay back on the warm grass, and opened myself to Sergio, pulling him on top of me, and guiding his prick home into the wet warmth of my waiting cunt, then locking my legs around his thighs as he rode me. But it was I who was doing the fucking, controlling his strokes, leading him as a dance-partner would, until I could abandon myself to a certain orgasm, and let him drive wildly at his task, until he shot his day's second load from his young and eager tool, this time deep within me. He was a virgin no longer.

It hadn't been the most earth-shattering climax of all time, but I was nicely satisfied, and when I saw the young guy's beaming smile as he sat there beside the stream, his breathing recovering its normal cadence, I felt happy that I had helped him towards adulthood.

Greta sat beside me in the back seat of the taxi, self-consciously tugging at the hem of her miniskirt – she hadn't yet grown accustomed to the feeling of being without underwear – and smiling nervously at me as I pointed out buildings and other landmarks on our way home from the airport. She had come through immigration without difficulty with her brand new passport. My Mistress had phoned me the night before to apologise, saying she couldn't meet us at the airport, but to get a taxi for the forty-five minute journey. 

Although I had enjoyed what had been my first holiday in years, and had really relaxed in Spain, I was anxious to be back with my Mistress, and hoped she had missed me as much as I had missed her. It was getting dark when we arrived at the house, and there were no lights on. I knew that Mistress Rosa was at a business meeting with her husband, which was why she had been unable to come to the airport, so, after letting myself in with my key, I showed Greta to her room, which I presumed would be the one that Pilar had used. When I opened the door, I saw that I had been right, as the room was freshly cleaned, and smelt of lavender. Laid out on the bed was a new uniform for Greta – Ana had evidently given her sister Greta's size. Greta giggled when she saw the uniform, but couldn't wait to try it on. While I checked her bathroom for toiletries and the like, she had shrugged out of the skirt and blouse she arrived in, and had slipped on the black satin garter belt. She carefully eased on the unfamiliar long seamed black stockings, then slid over her head the tiny black silk flared mini-dress. All that remained was to step into the highest stilettos she had ever worn, tie the little white, lace-trimmed apron around her waist, and she was transformed into the sexiest maidservant anyone could wish for. When I told her so, she giggled again, but grimaced when she first tottered around on the unaccustomed heels.

'You'll have to get used to them,' I told her, 'those and many other things, in the next few weeks!' I left her practising walking around, and went to shower and change.

No sooner had I got to my room than the telephone rang. It was my Mistress.

'Oh my dear Julie, so you arrived?'

'Yes Mistress, I can't wait to see you.'

'Nor I to see you. I'll be home in an hour. Make yourself beautiful for me, darling!'

I took a shower, brushed my hair until it shone, then took my time applying my make-up, not forgetting to rouge my nipples and labia. Then, gasping at the sharp pain, I fixed my ornate silver nipple-clamps in place, and clipped my weighted chain to the ring in my clit. Just these acts, after my break, were making me hot and starting my juices to well up deep within me. I wondered if my Mistress would want to whip me that evening – I certainly hoped so. Flipping through the gowns in my closet, I settled on a long, flowing ivory silk evening gown by Versace, open at the front down to the waist and loose-fitting, so that my breasts jiggled around as I walked, and the weighted chain between my clamps was visible in the gap of my cleavage. I buckled on my Mistress's collar, thinking how good it was to wear it once more, stepped into a pair of high-heeled sandals, and was ready. 

I knocked on Greta's door, and she called out to me to enter. She was preening in front of the mirror, but stopped when she saw me, her jaw dropping open.

'My God,' she exclaimed, 'but you are...you are...so fantastic, Julie!'

'You must remember to call me Miss Julie in front of our Mistress. And she is always to be addressed as Mistress,' I told her, 'if you don't obey rules, you may be punished.'

She looked at me in an odd way, doing a double-take at the sight of the silver chain, with its jewelled ball attached, dangling in my cleavage, but she didn't query it, so I made no mention of it as we left her room to await our Mistress in the lounge.

Five minutes later, we heard her car pull up, and Mistress Rosa came in, preceded by a handsome young man in chauffeur's cap and blue uniform, carrying her bags. He stood aside while she greeted me with a warm hug and a deep kiss, and then held me at arm's length. 

Then she pulled me into a soft embrace and whispered to me: 'You look lovely, Julie dear. I have missed you terribly. After dinner, we shall have the evening to ourselves – I'm sure there are things you have need of?'

'Oh Mistress, I have dreamed of having you do those things to me,' I breathed back into her ear, then, standing back, I presented Greta to her, and we were both introduced to Mistress Rosa's new chauffeur, Paul.

The Mistress sent Paul home, and then sent Greta off to the kitchen to receive instructions from the cook about serving dinner. When the Romanian had gone, she asked me to tell her a bit about the girl's background, and I told her what I knew. She looked thoughtful, and said, 'Hmmm, I think I'd like her to watch me whip you – what do you think?' 

'I don't know, Mistress,' I said, 'maybe it's a bit too soon?'

'Yes, perhaps you're right dear,' she concurred, 'we'll keep that pleasure for another day.'

She licked her lips, 'I'll go and change now. I'll see you in the dining room.' 

I wandered into the big dining room, poured myself a dry sherry, and sat on an easy chair, looking through a fashion magazine. 

I stood automatically when Mistress Rosa came in. She was, as ever, immaculate, in a long, tight, backless black velvet dress which showed off her spectacular figure perfectly. Her long black hair cascaded, loose, down her back, and she wore long, matching gloves, and long diamond-studded silver pendants hung from her ear-lobes.

'Mistress, you look stunning!' I told her.

Thank you Julie,' she said graciously, as we took our seats at the table.

Greta quickly appeared with our first course, and, when she had laid down the plates, the Mistress said, 'Thank you, Greta. Now come here, and let me have a look at you.'

Greta approached Mistress Rosa's chair, and was treated to a close inspection, the Mistress's eyes running up and down her small lithe, black-clad body, while she stood uneasily beside her. Then she put a questing hand on Greta's black-stockinged leg, and ran it smoothly upwards, raising the hem of her short skirt, until she encountered the pale flesh above. Greta flinched as the Mistress's hand reached the tight folds of her labia, but it continued on up, and found the triangle of pubic hair which adorned her mound.

'You'll shave that off, tomorrow, at the latest!' she told her, 'I don't like to see any body hair around the house. Otherwise, I think you'll do fine, yes.' She allowed Greta's skirt to drop back in place, and she scuttled off to the kitchen, glancing back at me as she went – but I looked deliberately away.

'You did very well to bring her, my dear,' my Mistress told me, when she was out of earshot, 'I've been thinking, ever since Pilar left, that my next maid's duties may be extended a little.' She licked her lips once again, in a characteristic gesture I now recognised.

After dinner, Mistress Rosa sent Greta to her room, thanking her for serving dinner, and hoping she would be happy in her new life. She certainly seemed cheerful enough as she clicked away in her heels, smiling at me as she went.

'Perhaps you'd like to come to my room now, Julie?' said my Mistress, standing and extending a gloved hand to me.

I meekly allowed myself to be led to her room, where she could scarcely wait to unzip my dress, which fell to the floor without resistance, in a whisper of soft silk. She admired my nipple clamps, pulling at their chain so that I gasped at the pain, and then admired the chain I had connected to my clit-ring. But I looked pleadingly at her.

'I know, darling, I know what you crave. Kneel on the floor, now!'

I did as she bid me to, and she produced a pair of standard handcuffs, deftly cuffing my wrists behind my back.

'I see you left your hair down,' she observed, as she was fetching her favourite leather riding crop from the drawer, 'that leaves me few options, my dear!'

I knew that wasn't true – usually, she simply lifted my heavy mane of hair over my shoulder and out of the way before whipping my back – but now she stood beside me, and slightly behind, so that I had to twist my head around to see her, and, without any warning, lashed me cruelly across the top of my breasts. The pain was instant, an awful, stinging, piercing, almost unbearable agony, that rocketed right through my body. At the first stroke, I doubted I could take it. As she whipped me again, slightly above the first, which had already scored a dark red welt right across my breasts, I moaned deeply, and the agony was joined by the ecstasy that I knew to be its travelling companion.

'Oh, Rosa, please, please, please, no, oh, oh!' I screamed, as she struck me again, right across my tortured nipples. My eyes closed, and I came, an almighty orgasm which wracked my body in a succession of shuddering, writhing spasms, and my juices ran out of control, across my Mistress's carpeted floor.

Later, we lay together in the darkness, having lost count of the times we made love.

'I should send you away more often,' said Mistress Rosa.



Wheals of Fortune Ch. 05



My Mistress seemed very happy with Greta, the maid I had brought for her. She had hinted at 'extending the maid's duties a little,' but aside from the fact that I knew Greta was being paid better than her predecessor had been, I saw no sign of any change. Greta was visibly content with her work, enjoying her days off, when she walked freely around the city, ogling the displays in the shops, so different from those in her native Romania.

During Greta's second week at the house, my Mistress's sister Maria paid her a visit one evening, and I was summoned to meet the two sisters in the library. I had a good idea what that would entail, especially when my Mistress said, 'And please dress appropriately, Julie dear – I'm sure you know what I mean.' 

Back in my room, I showered and put my long blonde hair up in a French twirl, to emphasise my Mistress's heavy leather collar, and then took infinite care over my make-up – I needed to be beautiful for my Mistress. When I was satisfied with that, I found in my drawer a flame-red corset I had never worn before. It was, in fact, little more than a broad belt, and would leave my breasts and belly naked. When I first tried to put it on, I thought it was too small, so I rang for Greta. With her help I discovered that, by pulling in my already flat stomach, she could get the dreadful garment fastened and laced even tighter, cinching in my waist to an impossible degree. Greta was aghast, and did a double-take when she noticed the welts my Mistress had recently given me, when she had whipped me across the tops of my breasts. 

I found shiny scarlet hold-ups to match my corset, and rolled them up my long legs, and flicked through the rail in my closet until I found what I sought, a red, transparent negligee, fur-trimmed at hem, neckline and the cuffs of its long, voluminous sleeves. I had decided not to wear nipple clamps, so the only jewellery I put on were some long silver pendants and a little chain to dangle from the ring in my clit. I stepped into silver stilettos, and asked Greta how I looked.

'Fantastic!' she said, wide-eyed – but I didn't think she really understood my role at that stage. 

When I reached the library, Mistress Rosa and her sister were standing with drinks in their hands, both dressed in black. My Mistress wore a backless, knee-length silk cocktail dress, with a swirling, pleated skirt, and it contrasted with her sister's severe tight sheath, of a similar length, which moulded her voluptuous curves to perfection. What I hadn't realised was that she would bring Pilar with her. But of course! Pilar was now a fully-fledged slave, and she was kneeling beside her mistress, wearing a short white baby-doll nightdress and platform-soled silver stilettos, and nothing else except a collar exactly like mine, to which a leash was attached, the other end looped around Maria's wrist. Pilar smiled at me when I came into the room – she looked, if anything quite serene, and I noticed that her hair was shining and healthy, beautifully styled, and that, when she smiled, she deliberately showed me a coral stud in her tongue.

But my Mistress was speaking. 'So now we're all here, I think it's time for us to have a little entertainment. I'm anxious that we let you have a satisfactory slave, sister – perhaps we could have a little demonstration. What do you think?'

'Pilar is very submissive,' said Maria, 'but she could use some more training, my dear. What do you have in mind?'

My Mistress strode over to the far wall, the silk of her dress swishing as her heels clicked on the parquet floor. She pulled back a black velvet curtain I hadn't really noticed, and said, 'I've had this installed in the last week.'

What she revealed was a sturdy wooden post, which had eyes and hooks set into it at various points, and chains and other gleaming metalwork dangled from them. The chains appeared to have complicated pulley mechanisms to raise or lower them.

'My new whipping post!' she announced, 'do you like it?'

'It looks impressive,' said Maria, 'are we going to try it out?'

'Why not?' said my Mistress, 'bring your slave over.'

Maria pulled to her feet, and led her, quaking, to the post, and my Mistress turned her around so that her back was to it. She clipped her wrists into handcuffs and raised them high above her head, so that Pilar could only just touch the ground, thanks to her impossibly high heels. At the end of another chain, near the bottom of the post, a broad leather strap was buckled tightly around the slave-girl's ankles, hobbling her completely. Suspended like this, her belly was entirely naked, the brief nightdress lifting with her arms.

'Go and get the tray, Julie,' Mistress Rosa told me, and I fetched the tray of whips and canes from its place on the sideboard. Without hesitating, Maria selected a leather flogger, effectively a cat o'nine-tails, and ran it through her hand, testing its weight and feel. Without warning, she started to thrash Pilar's unprotected belly with the leather strands of the flogger. While it would cause her no lasting harm, the multiple leather thongs made a pretty criss-cross pattern on the young girl's white flesh, and made her writhe and cry out in anguish as her mistress laid about her task with relish. She paid particular attention to Pilar's naked, shaven mound, but, when she lashed the tops of her slave's thighs, the response was more satisfying, as Pilar moaned hoarsely and twisted this way and that, her hips gyrating as the flogger carried her into a world of pain and ecstasy that few people know.

'I do believe the little slut has just cum,' said Maria, and walked away, leaving her slave suspended there, 'come on, sister, you told me you were feeling horny!'

Mistress Rosa responded by sitting in one of the big armchairs, and throwing her legs over the arms, so that her pleated skirt rode up her thighs, revealing her naked pussy. As she parted her labia with the fingers of both hands to open her glistening pink cunt, I knew my place, and instantly dropped to my knees in front of her chair, put my arms over her shapely thighs, and nuzzled my face into the warm, sweet wetness of her waiting pussy, finding her clit's hard presence with my tongue, and flicking it until I drew a moan from deep in her throat. 

As I bit gently down on her clit, making her moan even more, I sensed Maria doing something behind me, and then felt the sudden shock of cold as she teemed a huge jugful off cold water all over my back, so that my negligee stuck to me.

As I plunged my tongue into my Mistress's eager, pulsing cunt, and simultaneously sought her hot, tight arsehole with my forefinger, I knew what Maria was about to do, and, sure enough, with the thin nylon negligee now saturated, and moulded to my arse, the pain was going to be awful when she caned me. The first stroke was terrible, bringing a searing pain across the top of my buttocks, as the thin birch struck through the wet, almost non-existent material, and I could scarcely avoid crying out with the agony as subsequent blows rained down on my soaking buttocks and thighs.

My Mistress was squirming as I brought her to the brink of orgasm, by alternately flicking her clit and plunging my tongue deep into her cunt, but I knew how to finish her off, and, as the delicious pain that her sister was causing me by lashing my buttocks brought me to my own gasping, tumultuous climax, I thrust two long fingers hard into my Mistress's velvet tunnel, and she cried out and bucked as her own orgasm overtook her.

When we had lain together for while, recovering in each others' arms, I looked around, and saw that Maria had released her slave, and that she and Pilar were curled in their private embrace on a nearby sofa. I looked a question at my Mistress and she understood. 'My sister is OK,' she said, with a little smile.

When I stood up, much later, my Mistress lifted my still-damp negligee, and looked at my buttocks. 

'Quite some wheals you've got there,' she said, 'have Greta rub some balm into them, darling, will you?'

When I called Greta to my room, I was wearing just a silk kimono. I gave her the pot of soothing aloe vera lotion to apply.

'My God,' she said, 'what...........?'

'Don't ask,' I told her, and smiled, but she was looking at me in a very odd way as she soothed my wounds, and afterwards, she tried to ask me about them several times. I could tell she was fascinated by the whole thing.

My Mistress went away with her husband for three days a few days after the episode with her sister, and, when she returned, she was very quiet and contemplative. I had never seen her in that mood before. The following night, Mr Gordon was out, and she rang me: 'Dine with me, please, Julie, will you?'

I agreed, of course – she often asked me to dine with her these days, when her husband was away. 

I dressed for dinner, as was usual at the house, putting on a long, tight pale blue gown which I had had made for me by my Mistress's visiting tailor. It fitted me like a glove, and it was a work of art to put on, with a long zipper located right down my left side. When I had dressed, I looked at my reflection in the long mirror in my room, and saw that I might as well have been naked, so well were my breasts defined, their hard nipples poking out at the thin material. The same could be said for the shape of my buttocks – every crease was revealed by the garment's tightness and I could take only short steps when I walked.

When I joined my Mistress in the dining room, and Greta had served us with our dinner, I took in her dress, which was highly unusual for her. Normally, she was supremely elegant in long velvet or satin gowns, sometimes backless, or with scooped necklines, but never like this. She wore a translucent green organdie blouse, beneath which she had on a darker green platform bra. Her nipples were clearly visible through the filmy material, perched above the skimpy bra, and their visibility seemed to suggest she had rouged them. It was hard not to stare. 

We dined in almost complete silence, but I sensed that my Mistress was eager to say something to me. Over coffee, she broke the uneasy silence.

'I want you to whip me tonight, Julie dear,' she said. I was shocked.

'But Mistress! Me, whip you? I don't know if I could.' 

'Of course you can, my dear,' she said, 'and I need you to do it for me. Don't make me plead with you.'

When Mistress Rosa got up from the table, my gaze followed her. Her long black skirt, below the revealing blouse, was even tighter than mine, hobbling her ankles, as she minced out before me on needle heels. Although she liked to see me wear 'restraint' clothing, she never did so herself, and I caught Greta's surprised look as we left the dining room too.

That it was going to be a night of surprises became even clearer when we got to the library. My Mistress range for Greta, who appeared almost immediately, clad, as usual, in her maid's uniform, of little black silk dress, and white frilly apron, her slim legs encased in seamed black stockings, black patent stilettos on her feet. She stood and awaited further instructions. 

My Mistress said, 'Julie, pour yourself a drink, my dear.' Then, turning to the maid, 'Greta, undress me, please!'

Hesitantly, the maid came towards her employer, who turned her back to her, and held her long, lustrous black hair up out of Greta's way, so that she could unbutton her blouse. Greta's fingers fumbled a little as she took on the task, but she soon had the buttons undone all the way down, so that all Mistress Rosa had to do was shrug the delicate garment off her shoulders. She stayed, her hair still held up, and allowed Greta to unclasp her bra, and then she pushed the straps down her slim white shoulders and her heavy but shapely breasts, with their big, puffy, rouged aureola, were free. She caressed them, almost unconsciously, when she released her hair and it fell in cascades down her back. 

She looked at the maid, and indicated the guide on the zipper of her skirt. Greta took the hint and pulled it down, finding it hard work to release the Mistress from the confines of the figure-hugging skirt. She wore nothing under it, as I had suspected, and was left naked but for her heels. She looked from Greta to me in a challenging way. I stood, a cut-glass tumbler of malt whisky now in my hand, and sensed my evening's role.

'Kneel down!' I told her, then turning to Greta, 'you, fetch me the tray, from the sideboard!'

My Mistress obediently knelt on the cold parquet floor. I swept her hair over her shoulder, so that it fell over her breasts. I couldn't resist leaning over and tweaking a nipple. 

'Hands on the back of your head!' I told her harshly, aping the way she had often spoken to me. She obeyed. Greta was stood beside me with the tray, from which I selected a long leather riding whip.

'Are you sure you want me to hurt you?' I asked her.

'Yes,' she said.

'Yes, what?' I demanded.

'Yes, please, Julie,' she said.

I bent and kissed her, long and hard, my studded tongue probing deep into her mouth, my hands fondling her breasts with supreme gentleness, then I pulled away.

'I'm going to hurt you now,' I said, 'if that's what you want me to do?' I wanted to hear her ask for it again.

'Oh yes, hurt me, please, Julie, hurt me a lot,' she said.

I picked up the whip and tried out its feel, its satisfying 'swish' as its harsh thong flew through the air, then I flicked my Mistress's back, just above her shoulder blades, with its very tip. It made an instant red mark, and must have stung, because she flinched.

'Be still!' I admonished her, 'or you'll have to be tied up.'

I now whipped her in earnest, a fierce, whistling stroke, right across the shoulder blades, which made her moan and writhe nicely, as a lovely red wheal formed instantly right across her pale flesh. Greta, stood close by, turned away.

'You have to watch, Greta,' I told her, 'you will see how important the whip can be.'

I lashed Mistress Rosa three or four times more, bringing up the start of a ladder of fine red welts, and her groans were changing so much in intensity, that I knelt beside her and put my hand to her crack. She was soaking.

'Oh Julie,' she implored, 'don't stop now!'

I gave her four or five more vicious strokes, and heard her scream in a way that told me beyond any doubt that she had just cum violently. Her back was afire, red wheals making a pattern right down to her waist.

'Thank you darling,' she said, then, in case, I suppose, I had forgotten, 'back to normal tomorrow!'

I detailed Greta to anoint her with balm, while I pulled up my skirt and quietly masturbated myself to my own essential orgasm. It came quickly and easily as I remembered what I had just done to my Mistress.

When I got to my bedroom, Greta was waiting by my door.

'Can I sleep with you, please, Julie?' she asked, 'I'm so excited.'

I nodded, and let her into my bed. I knew my Mistress would want to train her, if she was to be indoctrinated as a slave-girl, or anything of the sort, but I saw no harm in employing the 'casting-couch' – after all, it wouldn't be the first time!