Sylvia's Switch Ch. 07

As I followed her down a corridor lined with boxes of mags, she said, 'We can't put that stuff on display, you know.'

She led me into a tiny storeroom, opened a cupboard, and showed me several whips and gags – standard BDSM stuff. I chose a riding crop, a singletail whip, a pair of handcuffs, and a set of five heavy leather restraints, one for the neck, two for wrists and two more for ankles – all buckled shut, and had a metal ring set into them. Adding a studded leash to the collection, I told her to parcel them all up.

'Looks like you're going to have fun,' she leered, 'can anyone come?'

'I'm afraid not,' I retorted, trying not to sound snotty.

As a final touch, I put the lot on Susana's Gold Card, and was slightly relieved when the transaction went through. I resolved to cut her cards up after that.

I had a nervous morning the next day. My love for Didi had somehow been vindicated, as if that were necessary, and was obviously reciprocated, but the thought of our sharing a slavegirl was so thrilling that I could hardly wait for four o'clock to come around – the time when we were to expect Marisa. I wondered if she might get cold feet, and not turn up.

I went around to Didi's room, with the stuff I had bought, about a quarter of an hour before Marisa was due. I had put on one of my favourite outfits, a soft, silky dark blue pleated dress, mid-thigh length, which fell straight from gathered neckline to hem, so that as I walked around in it, with nothing on underneath, I felt completely naked. Even in that dress, I started when I saw Didi. She was wearing a black lace sheath, not unlike one of Susana's favourites. Through it, her naked body could be seen in every detail, and the contrast between her long blonde hair, and the black lace made her look breathtaking – and she was mine!

'Wheredidyou get that gorgeous dress?' I asked her.

'I borrowed it – it's a prop from the club. Do you like it?'

'Oh Didi,' I replied, 'do we really need a slave?'

'Probably not, but it should be fun, shouldn't it?'

I laid the toys out on the table, and, as I showed them to Didi, we couldn't keep our hands off each other, but we were interrupted when a timid knock sounded on the door.

'Come in,' called Didi, and we both sat down, Didi on the sofa, whilst I took a chair.

In came Marisa, tentatively. She was wearing a short pink party dress, with a plunging neckline, so that all of the cleavage between her small tits was visible. She wore high heels, as instructed, but by no means high enough for my taste. Her eyes were heavily made-up, as they had been the day before.

'You look like what you are – a common slut!' said Didi, 'You have walked through the streets likethat?'

She nodded mutely.

'What, cat got your tongue? You will reply when spoken to.'

'Yes.'

'Yes,what?'

Marisa looked from Didi to me and back again.

'You will address either of us as mistress, when no-one else is present,' I said, 'and what's more, we shall have to take you to buy some heels – they just won't do.'

She was shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, so I stood and went to her. In front of her, I quickly lifted the hem of her dress. The 'landing strip' of the day before had gone, I spun her around, and ran my hand down between her buttocks, finding her clean and quite hairless.

'At least she's shaved,' I told Didi, 'there's just the matter of this awful dress, and the shoes.'

'Not forgetting that make-up – she looks like she's ready to go on stage – she should be punished,' said Didi.

I looked at the girl's pretty face. She was wide-eyed with fear, and....and something else.

'You know you are to be whipped?' I said.

'Yes, mistress.' Her eyes were cast downwards as she replied.

'I thought we might adapt a scene froml'Image,' I told Didi, and Marisa looked from on to the other of us incomprehendingly.

'Undress!' I told her, and she had only to reach back and unfasten a clasp, and the dress fell in a pink pile around her feet, drawing my attention to her shoes.

'You can take those off too,' I said.

When she was naked, I thought how charming she looked – so vulnerable and almost virginal, ready to be sacrificed on the altar of our lust. I cinched one end of the handcuffs onto a wrist, then told her to kneel in front of the chair, whereupon I looped the chain between the cuffs over the lower rail of the cair, and closed the other end onto her other wrist. Then I lifted a leg over her head and sat on the chair, legs wide apart. I raised the gossamer-like hem of my dress up to my waist. Seizing hold of a handful of her soft hair, I pulled her head up so that she was looking straight into my pussy, where she would, I knew, be fascinated by my dangling clit-decoration.

'Now take the crop to her back,' I told Didi, 'just a few strokes so that she gets the taste of it.'

Didi took the riding crop from the table as I pulled Marisa's head in towards my pussy.

'Lick me, you slut!' I ordered, as Didi, gorgeously naked under her black lace, tried the crop's swing. As I felt the first tentative touch of the girl's damp tongue against my labia, Didi rained an equally tentative stroke down across Marisa's tender back-flesh, causing her to emit a tiny gasp.

'You can do better than that,' I said, and I might have been addressing either of them, because, as I felt Marisa's tongue driving into my now soaking cunt, Didi lashed her hard over the upper back, so that her thin body writhed convulsively, heightening my intense pleasure. I felt then that two more strokes were all I should need to cum, and I pulled my slave's head hard, hard into my pussy as Didi warmed to her task, and flogged her tender flesh twice more. I came, with a tremendous explosion of passion, and then found Didi stood beside me, the skirt of her sheath up around her waist.

'Oh, Sylvia, please!'

I knew exactly what she wanted, and, leaving Marisa hooked up to the chair, I slipped off and knelt before my lovely friend as she sank to the sofa. I scarcely had time to plunge my tongue into her dripping cunt before she, too, had a mighty, shuddering orgasm.

When we had inspected the young girl's wounds, and found them superficial – no more than pretty red stripes making a ladder pattern up her back - we all sat down to a much-needed coffee, and nobody watching could have known that Marisa was our slave, and Didi my lover, as we sat and talked about clothes and make-up, just like three friends would. In this mode, Marisa asked me why I didn't like her dress.

'It's not that I don't like it, darling,' I told her, 'it's just not appropriate for the moment. Tell you what, why don't we go and buy you some clothes?'

Before we went out, Marisa wanted to pee, and while she was in the bathroom, Didi whispered, 'What are we going to use for money? I sure as hell don't have any.'

I realised I was again going to hit Susana's credit cards. 'Don't worry, I've a credit card I can use.' She looked at me doubtfully, but said nothing.

As we rode down in the lift, I said to Marisa, 'First thing, we've got to get you out of that dress. We'll head for a shop I know.'

We went to a boutique where I had recently bought a dress, and soon had Marisa kitted out in a tiny pleated blue miniskirt and a white silk blouse. She carried her pink dress out in a bag, and kept looking at her reflection in shop windows, worried lest she was showing too much in the brief skirt. In another shop, I bought her another skirt, as well as a pretty sundress, and two more blouses, then we called at a lingerie shop, where I purchased for her a little satin garter belt, and a cruel, black, lace-up, whaleboned corset. At a shoeshop, I fixed her up with two pairs of very high, needle-heeled sandals, almost giving the elderly male assistant a heart attack in the process, and bought her some stockings too. As a final touch, we bought her a studded collar and a silver waist-chain, telling her she must wear them at all times, as a symbol of our ownership of her.

When we then relaxed in a coffee bar, all our purchases piled up on a spare chair beside us, I took Marisa's slender hand in mine. 'I hope you are going to be happy with us, my dear,' I said.

'Oh yes,' she said, 'I'm happier than I've ever been in my life. I would never have believed what it did to me when.....when....'

'When you were whipped?'

'Yes,' she licked her lips, 'when I was whipped.'

I reached for Didi's hand with my free one. For the first time since leaving Madrid, I realised that Susana was now in the past, and knew that I was going to be truly happy.