Revealing Roni

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

I nodded. I too had been pretty wild then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hazel glanced around fearfully, her composure suddenly deserting her.

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

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

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

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

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

'As in the book?'

'Yes darling, would you like that?'

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

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

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

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

'Well….,' I started.

'Go on!' said Roni.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Does the Pope say his prayers?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'What did you say?'

'Something sexy.'

I shrugged and went to get a shower.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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