Stars and Stripes

I looked at my watch -- it was just after seven, so I took a nice long shower and slipped into a short cotton print summer dress -- a nice change after the jeans I had worn to travel in. Ten minutes to go, and I stepped into high-heeled sandals, and walked out, feeling I ought to be locking my door, and strolled down the corridor to look for some sign as to where the dining room was. I needn't have worried, as Lucia minced across from the office, and beckoned for me to follow her.

Obediently, I did so, and was led through another door, and straight into a big dining room, with a table set for, I thought, about sixteen people. I stood and looked around, left alone, as Lucia had gone back out, and I must have been the first, which made me more nervous than I already was.

Almost immediately Marty and Mario walked through the door, deep in conversation. Seeing me, they stopped what they were saying.

'Good,' said Mario, sliding an arm around my shoulders, 'you shall sit by me, Lisa, so that I can tell you a bit about the place. Marty needs to talk to Ines, who is going back to London with him tomorrow.'

I opened my mouth to say something -- I wasn't sure what -- but, at that moment, a chattering crowd of girls, all dressed alarmingly formally, for dinner, came into the room, making me feel like a country cousin. Seeing my discomfort, Mario squeezed my shoulder. 'Lucia would have told you we all dress for dinner, but I forgot, you don't speak Spanish, do you?'

I nodded, mortified, as I glanced down at my print dress, and saw perhaps ten beautiful girls, all wearing long silk or velvet gowns, make-up and hair immaculate. None, thankfully, seemed interested in me, but I noticed the nameless girl who had wanted to be whipped, amongst them.

One girl, a dark-eyed brunette in a backless grey silk gown, was chatting with Marty -- I took her to be Ines, and felt a momentary, silly, pang of jealousy. When we all went to sit down around the table, I counted nine girls and two men, besides Mario and Marty. Both were real hunks, dressed, like the two bosses, in tuxedos. One fairly dark skinned, so that he may have been North African, I thought, and the other a muscular blond nordic type.

In trotted two girls, carrying dishes. Both wore the 'uniform' of tightly-laced black satin dresses and high heels. Mario saw me watching them. 'We like to preserve our atmosphere of formality here. We all dress for dinner, and our domestic staff must wear their uniform, both when they are on their domestic duties, and when they appear on our films.' I then realised that the two girls serving our dinner were the same I had seen on film, leading 'Sylvia' in for her punishment. Another thought occurred to me.

'I can't see one of the girls who I saw on film.'

'Oh, and who was that?'

'Sylvia, her name was given as.'

'Ah,' he said, 'let me explain.'

I looked at him, and felt a twinge of desire as I saw the slight smile on his lips.

'We make films, twenty to thirty minutes long, for people who subscribe to our members' lists, and anyone who enters our website. It's a huge business, and we have clients worldwide. We use our own actresses, many of whom you see around the table, and they all enjoy their work, I believe. But we are also available to well-heeled or important clients who wish to have their partners punished, and for whom the law is either inadequate or inappropriate.'

My mouth dropped open at this revelation.

'So Sylvia............'

'Is the wife, as was said on film, of an influential man, who decided to have her punished. I interviewed her, and she accepted her punishment beforehand.'

'My God!' I exclaimed, 'but I saw then a girl whip herself. That was real, or.....?'

He smiled. 'That would be Nuria.' Before I could say anything, he beckoned to the blonde girl I had seen on film, who was sitting about four places away.

'¡Nuria,ven!' he said, and when she got up and walked around to us, he said, 'Enseñenos tu espalda.' -- show us your back.

As luck would have it, or possibly, I thought later, from necessity, Nuria was wearing a backless red silk gown, and when she turned around, and lifted her long heavy mane of honey-blond hair out of the way, I could see that her back was criss-crossed with fiery red lines, obviously from a recent whipping. She turned slowly around and smiled at me, then trailed a long-fingered, manicured hand along my shoulders as Mario dismissed her and she made her way back to her place.

'She's lovely,' I said, and meant it. The sight of her back, and her beauty, had me getting aroused. To think, she had actually wanted to be whipped, to have those marks inflicted upon her! My mind was in turmoil, but I couldn't help wondering, with a sort of thrill, what it would feel like to be whipped.

'But how many women are...sent in, by their husbands?' I wanted to know.

'You'd be surprised,' he said, 'it's not at all rare, and one of our girls, Conchita..' he indicated a spectacular redhead wearing a tight green velvet dress, 'Conchita decided to stay after being punished for cuckolding her husband.'

My surprise must have shown, because Mario laughed at me, and said, 'You wouldn't believe the number of applications we get from girls to come and join us. We can afford to be quite choosy.'

'Choosy?'

'Yes, we only take the most beautiful women -- as I think you can see!' He waved his hand towards the girls seated around the table, and I had to admit they were a gorgeous selection.

'So what am I doing here?' I asked him.

'Don't underrate yourself, darling,' said Mario, 'You're a lovely girl, and if Marty says you have it in you, then you certainly do -- he has the best eye in the business.'

'B...but I've never been whi...punished,' I stammered, reluctant to pronounce the word.

'I can tell you are intrigued though, aren't you, Lisa?'

I looked away. 'I don't know.'

'Well,' he said, 'maybe we can use you on the staff for a while -- several of our girls started that way. First enjoy your meal, then get a good night's sleep, and we'll talk about it in the morning.'

I took my time getting up in the morning, but as I was drying off after a nice shower, there was a knock on my door. It was Lucia, who smiled and said a lot of things I didn't understand as she walked through into my closet. In a few minutes, she emerged with clothes over her arm, and laying them out on the bed, pointed to me, as I came out of the bathroom wrapped in a big white towel. I had to work hard to wriggle into the satin dress, but it felt lovely against my skin, its tightness exciting. The sleeves too were tight, terminating in loops which went around my middle fingers. The dress was laced up the back, from hem to neck, and Lucia stepped behind me and pulled the strings tighter than I thought possible, first constricting my waist, then drawing the skirt ultra-tight around my legs, down to just below the knee. I had on only a pair of filmy white panties under the dress, and when I looked over my shoulder into the mirror, I glimpsed them through the narrow laced opening. I stepped into a pair of staggeringly high needle-heeled, platform-soled black patent shoes, and Lucia muttered something that sounded like approval as we went -- slowly - down the corridor and across to the dining room.

Whilst I was having a light breakfast, Mario sought me out, and had me stand up so that he could look at me.

'Ah yes,' he said, 'Marty said you had potential -- I can see why!'

'Where is Marty?' I enquired.

'Oh, he left for the early flight,' he said, 'and, by the way, he said you were a good fuck too!' I looked to see if he was joking, but his face carried an enigmatic smile. I turned away, but he caught my arm. 'Are you?'

'You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?' I told him, but I knew he wouldn't have to wait long. He wanted to talk, though, about plans for the day.

'As luck would have it, we have a guest coming this morning, Lisa, then, this afternoon I plan to shoot a scene with Lidia -- she's clear now.'

'Clear?'

'Yes, clear. When I say that, I mean that her stripes have disappeared, so that she can be whipped again. I should tell you that our whippings don't do any lasting damage, but most of the girls still show some marks which haven't yet faded from their last shoot, and I like to have virgin skin to work on. That's why I need to have a good many girls, and with Ines gone.........'

'You were hoping I could replace her?'

'If I'm honest, yes, but no great rush, eh?'

He left it at that, and I wondered what today was going to be like, and what the 'guest' business was all about.

I didn't have long to wait. Mario detailed Lucia and myself to go meet the 'guest.'

'She'll be here in about ten minutes,' he said, 'she'll arrive in the main courtyard.'

Lucia and I tidied up each other's hair -- it was amazing, I thought, how well you could get by on sign-language and the few words we had in common, then we stood in the courtyard. I was expecting a car to come swishing through the gap between the buildings, but suddenly became aware of the 'whopwhopwhop' of an approaching helicopter. In no time the giant dragonfly was settling down on the tarmac of the courtyard. The door opened, and out stepped an immaculately-dressed man in his fifties, wearing an oatmeal jacket over a blue polo-neck, and perfectly pressed slacks. He turned back to the door and extended a hand to a platinum-blonde woman half his age, helping her courteously down the three steps.

The woman exuded class, Her long, thick hair was braided into a single rope, trailing down to her waist, and tied with a black velvet ribbon. She wore a knee-length dress of royal blue silk which was probably by Armani, and her long legs were clad in silky black hose, perched on heels which may well have been Blahniks. Long black gloves held the hand of her companion, and she looked at us with an expression of something like disdain as we walked out to greet them.

Lucia spoke to the man in Spanish, and they followed us across to Mario's office.

Mario was sitting behind his desk and smiled as he saw his guests walk in, followed by Lucia and myself. There were two chairs in front of the desk.

'Take a seat, please,' said Mario, amazingly speaking English.

'Thank you,' said the man, 'but she'll stand.' His English was native, and educated.

He sat down, shaking hands with Mario as he did so, while the woman stood by the corner of the desk, Lucia and myself staying in the corners of the office, stood well back.

'Now, Mr Stimson,' said Mario, 'Let me see if I've got the story correct? As I understand it, your wife, Fiona here, was caught shoplifting.' He mentioned the name of a well-known store in Madrid, and she shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. 'Then she tried to get away with it by offering her....er..services to the store detective. Is that right?'

'Correct. She apparently raised her skirt, under which she was naked, as is usual, with her foot on the arm of his chair. It was a fatal error on her part, as the man is not only gay, but is also a friend of mine.'

I suppressed a laugh as I envisaged the scene, but Mario was speaking. 'So, Mr Stimson, being anxious to avoid a scandal, in view of your position at the head of a major multi-national, you have asked that we apply our own type of punishment, to show Mrs Stimson the error of her ways. Has she consented?'

'Yes, Fiona has expressed a desire to be punished in whatever way I see fit.'

'She has, in fact, agreed to be whipped?'

'Yes, and I expect you will want her to sign a paper to that effect?'

In answer, Mario pushed a document in Fiona's direction, and with it a ballpoint pen. She bent down and scrawled her signature.

'Just one further question, Mr Stimson.'

'Oh?'

'Would you care to be present?'

'Yes, if you please -- and don't imagine I shall be squeamish. Fiona deserves to be punished most harshly.'

Mario stood and the two men shook hands, then he came around the desk and looked Fiona up and down. He reached down and took a pair of steel handcuffs from a desk drawer, then whirled Fiona around and deftly cuffed her silk-gloved wrists behind her back.

'Is that necessary?' she asked, in a clipped Oxford accent. They were the first words she had spoken since landing. Mario didn't reply, but spoke rapidly to Lucia in Spanish. Motioning me to do likewise, she took Fiona's arm, and together we walked her across the courtyard, through the 'castle gate' mock-up. I glanced behind, and saw a manned camera on a gantry -- we were now being filmed, and I supposed we made a nice scene, two girls in out ultra-tight laced-up dresses, flanking our elegant captive.

Followed by Mario and the woman's husband, we walked through a heavy-looking door and into a huge stone-walled 'dungeon.' Our heels echoed as they clicked on the stone-flag floor. Lucia led us to one wall, brightly lit, presumably for filming purposes, where a very solid-looking St Andrew's cross was set against the wall.

I felt Fiona tremble as we approached the cross, and Mario came and unlocked the cuffs, then spoke rapidly in Spanish to Lucia. Turning to me, he said, 'Undress her now!'

Obediently, I pulled down the long zipper at the back of her dress, and slipped it from her shoulders, so that it fell to the floor, around her beautifully-shod feet in a whisper of silk. She was naked but for the long black gloves and hold-up stockings. Her breasts were round and firm, and looked natural, and her quite prominent mound was clean shaven. I pictured her presenting it to the gay detective and smiled, as Lucia busied herself attaching ropes near the extremities of the cross.

'Tie her up!' said Mario, and I led her to the cross, looking a question back at Mario, which he understood. 'Facing out,' he said, quietly, 'so that she can watch.'

Being taller than Lucia, I secured her still-gloved wrists to the ropes, while she fastened Fiona's ankles. When we stepped away, the elegant lady was nicely spread-eagled, fear written on her lovely face.

Mario, dressed casually, obviously not going for any sort of 'monastic look,' was now holding a long, evil-looking whip, coiled in one hand.

'You may wish to cry out,' he said, 'I'm going to hurt you.'

She twitched her blonde head from side to side as if in answer, and Mario gave a trial swish to the great long lash, then, without further warning, using what appeared to be all his considerable strength, caused the long leather thong to wrap itself ferociously around the woman's waist. She gave a gasping moan as it struck, and when the lash fell away, it revealed a livid red line right around the white flesh of her narrow waist. But the next stroke was already on its way, and unerringly found its way to her proud, thrusting breasts. This time she screamed, and short red lines marked the lash's target.

The woman's husband had come to stand beside me, outide the range of the lights, and I sensed, rather than heard, his rapid breathing as he watched his wife being savagely flogged. I felt his hand touch my tightly encased arse, and, realising my role, put my hand to the front of his slacks, where a great erection tented his slacks,as the whip fell, again and again, now snaking across the woman's flat belly, then flicking awful stinging blows around her slim thighs.

Mr Stimson hurriedly unzipped his trousers, and I found myself with his engorged prick in my hand, conscious of Lucia's amused gaze. I stroked him gently, like I thought a lover would, but Mario's strokes, if anything, were more vicious than ever, and on perhaps his tenth or twelfth, Fiona screamed as the cruel lash raised a lurid red welt just beneath her tits. Her husband's cock leapt in my hand, and he groaned loudly -- and spurted.

'Happens a lot!' grinned Mario, as he put down the whip and handed me a Kleenex.

I cleaned him up, while Lucia was releasing the ropes which bound his sobbing wife. As soon s she was free, though, she ran lightly to her husband, and threw her arms around him, hugged him close. I heard her whisper, 'I love you, Michael. You can do whatever you want with me, darling.'

When they separated, Lucia helped her put her dress on again, and they left. I heard the helicopter take off some time later, while Lucia and I sat enjoying a coffee in the dining room.

Exercising her English to its limit, Lucia said, 'Afternoon is Lidia. She want cane. No whip, cane.'

After lunch, Mario got up and extended a hand to a brunette sat at the far end of the table. She was, like all the girls, very pretty, more curvaceous than the rest, with long, wavy black hair. She wore a short, beltless dress which fell from her unfettered breasts to around mid-thigh. He brought her round, her tits jiggling prettily, and introduced her to me as Lidia. Her English was only slightly better than Lucia's.

'Lidia likes her arse caned, and always has a nice orgasm,' said Mario, 'and I get lots of requests from our members for a caning and masturbation clip, so that's what we are going to shoot this afternoon. We have to get it right, because her wounds take time to heal properly, so we can't do a repeat for a while.'

'Are you going to cane her?' I asked.

'No, I'm going to let Ahmed loose on her.' He indicated the dark-skinned guy who had sat next to her.

He told me to go and rest for an hour. 'You're in Spain,' he said, 'and we tend to observe the siesta.'

I went to my room, unlaced my dress as best I could, so that I could breathe more freely, then lay down, my mind too busy to rest much. I went over the events of the morning. The restraint of my dress -- ever-present, and keeping me aroused -- then the sight of Fiona being whipped. Much as I hated violence, this ritual punishment had me excited more than I wanted to admit to myself, and what had Fiona said? 'You can do anything you want with me, darling.' And after being treated so cruelly. Shit! Then I remembered her husband, cumming in my hand as he watched. I had been so very wet at that moment, he could have cum inside me if he'd asked. And now, I was going to see Lidia caned -- as she liked! I remembered then what Marty had said about me having potential -- was it true? Did I see myself being whipped? It certainly had me imagining what it would be like.

There was someone knocking at my door, and I suddenly realised I had been asleep.

'Come in!' I yelled, half awake, and Lucia steppeed in smiling, then helped me make myself presentable, tidying up my hair and lacing me tightly into my dress again.

We went down to the dining room, where Lidia was waiting for us, still wearing the same loose, pleated, silky dress and the high heels that were universal here, it seemed. Chattering away to her, Lucia fitted leather ankle and wrist restraints, each with a big metal ring, then shackled her ankles and wrists with lengths of heavy chain -- for the film, of course, I thought. Lucia motioned for me to take one arm, while she took the other, and we marched her slowly across the courtyard, under the watchful eye of the camera, up on a gantry. In through the 'portal' and into the 'dungeon' we went. Ahmed was waiting there. I had to admit he looked great, in a pair of tight 'pirate' breeches, stripped to the waist, his golden body muscular and lean. He stood, hands on hips, while we led Lidia up to an upholstered couch, with several cushions. Mario was right behind us, and called out, in English, 'Unfasten the prisoner's hands!' Lucia did so, and we led her, ankles still chained, to the couch, where Lucia positioned cushions, two under Lidia's belly, one under her head, then pulled her dress up to reveal her nakedness under it. Her round buttocks were an open invitation for Ahmed's cane, and she knew to keep her knees well apart. From where I stood, half behind her, the damp pink of her pussy was visible.