Escort 1

The phone rang at 7pm. I instantly recognised her voice. "Hi, Sara. The Morgan Hotel, Mayfair. Meet a lady called Linda in the Piano Bar at 9.30. She's paid for the night. Dress smart – really smart outside, the long black dress I think. Best lingerie." The end.

My Mistress ran the agency. She made me do this to humiliate me. I had been hers for 2 years, living in her apartment as her willing, happy sub slut. She sent me on my first assignment 6 weeks ago, knowing I hated it. It was her punishment, well one of them anyway. She would know if I failed and then it would be worse. In any event I wanted to please her, how much surprised me constantly.

"Really smart." I showered and washed my hair. It's long, to my behind nearly, and dark brown. It takes an age to dry but I am proud of it and my Mistress loves it. I sat naked in front of my mirror and looked at my small 32a breasts. Oh well, they'd have to do. I applied lipstick and a little make-up. You'll do.

"Best lingerie." Stockings and suspenders I guessed, and a g string. Silk and almost transparent at the front, a string like a hair up the back. Cost the earth. No bra, who needs one? The black dress was covered in polythene from its last clean. It has a low front and is cut to where my hair falls at the back. Thin straps cross over the back. The full, wrap around skirt of the dress is actually open to the waist but the overlap hides the fact. Black patent sandals with the sub's strap around the ankle. Black wrap. Black bag. Call taxi. Last check in the full length mirror. Here goes.

The Morgan is, quite simply, the best. The doorman held the door for me and smiled. I followed the signs to the Piano Bar and before I got there could hear the piano but didn't recognise the tune. The nerves were fluttering now so I probably wouldn't have recognised "Happy Birthday." The bar was a comfortable lounge with a U shaped bar at one corner. I went to it and sat on a stool. Ordered Gin and Tonic.

A cool hand touched my shoulder. "Sara?" I turned. "Yes Ma'am." If this wasn't Linda then the "Ma'am" would be a pity but…. "I'm Linda." Phew. "Order me a drink, Bacardi and Coke." I did.

About 45 but in good shape. 5' 8" or so, about 9 stone or 125 pounds in American. Great figure and shoulder length, deep red hair that shone like a late evening sun.

We moved to a low table away from the bar. She sat opposite me, her long, dark blue skirt spread around her like a cloak. Her white silk blouse had long sleeves with cuffs and links. She wore a man's dark blue tie, slightly loose from her neck. About £7,000 the lot I reckoned, not including the simple jewellery. "You look lovely, Sara." "Thank you, Ma'am." She explained she was visiting London from New York, in town for a few days. Her accent was soft, I thought, and cultured. She wore no wedding ring, I didn't ask.

"I hope this will be a pleasure for us both." I shivered inside, hoping it would be but you can never know what to expect. "Why do you do this?"

"My Mistress owns the agency, Ma'am. I do it for her."

"We'll go to my room now." "Yes, Ma'am." She paid. I followed that body out through the bar to the lifts. We stood apart, me holding my wrap and bag as she talked quietly about the lousy London weather and how it played havoc with her hair. Her shoes were low heels, up the cost estimate I thought. This lady has class and money.

Her suite was large and high, overlooking the better parts of London. She showed me in. "Stand here." She pointed to a spot on the carpet in the middle of the sitting room. She went to the bedroom and returned holding a ball gag. She came behind me and reached around to open my mouth and slip it in. It wasn't too big. She secured it with a silk strap, carefully moving my hair. She stood close behind me, her body just touching mine. Your Mistress explained the rules but she needn't have. I don't want to harm you, and there are, I assure you, no animals or children in this suite. She laughed. She ran her hands over my hair, over my shoulders, down the exposed skin of my back. She came around in front of me. Her eyes roamed over me and she reached down and opened the skirt of my dress, holding it open so she could see my stockings and g string. Nodded. She went back to the bedroom and returned with a spreader bar and a small, velvet bag which she placed on a chair. She knelt, moved my skirt and fixed a cuff to my ankle. She tapped my other leg and I moved it so she could attach the other cuff.

My arms hung at my sides still free. She stood in front of me and ran her hands down over my dress, inside the skirt and, delicately, her nails ran over the skin above my stockings. I felt no fear. She was so reassuring in her confidence and gentleness. I felt a stir as her fingernails ran over my sensitive flesh. She let a finger slip over my g string. I moved and her eyes bored into me. "Still, Sara." I nodded.

"Kneel down, all fours, face on the carpet."

I knelt, it wasn't easy. I followed her skirt as it moved to her bedroom. I watched her legs return, clad in silk pyjamas. I looked up to see a rather small, black plastic penis protruding from the front. She smiled down.

I felt her behind me then the sensation of my skirt sliding up over my behind followed by her hands caressing my cheeks. The first stinging slap was as much as surprise as a pain. The second was a pain, pure and simple. The third and subsequent slaps worked their normal magic and I blushed as the wetness betrayed my feelings. "Your Mistress said that would happen," her voice had a chuckle in it. I felt a pull and knew my g string had been pulled off. Bugger, that was 28 pounds worth of nearly nothing.

Predictably, I felt a slut. Kneeling, dressed as I was, spread and gagged with my best dress thrown up over my back, my behind (I imagined) glowing red.

The penis touched my lips and rested there as her fingers danced over my cheeks and between them. She pulled the dildo away and eased a finger into me. I was wet. She slipped inside and then pushed a second in. She crossed them and turned them. I pressed back onto her hand. She laughed at this slut in front of her.

Her fingers slithered out and I felt the dildo return to lodge at my entrance. Her finger, wet and slippery pressed against my bum. Together her dildo and her finger made their entrance. I moaned through the gag and felt the wonderful filling increase. She lent into me and both holes squeezed onto the invaders. I pressed back and she eased back. Her other hand slapped me. "Still." She began a rhythmical rocking, dildo and finger working together to drive me to orgasm. I knew I should not cum but knew I would.

"Good?" I nodded. "Cumming?" I nodded again. Very quietly, "not advisable."