Vanessa's Vocation Ch. 02

Everyone in this fantasy is over eighteen years of age. If I unwittingly upset Muslim sensibilities in any way, I should point out that I am not a Christian, or anything else!

It is a work of pure fantasy, and continues the story beginning with part 1.

When, alter my first appearance in public, I got back to Madrid, I felt quite well rested. Sam had shown me New York, but I was disappointed when he told me he was going to California to do a show, while I was recalled to our head office. I suppose I had naively thought we might stay together on a more-or-less permanent basis, but Alicia put me right on that score: 'Rafa doesn't like us to form liaisons,' she said, 'he says it's disruptive.'

On my first full day back, Rafael called me into his office. He regarded me solemnly with his brown eyes, and again, as ever, mesmerised me with his deep, cultured voice, which always had the effect of making my pussy involuntarily moisten.

'I understand you did well in New York, my dear,' he said, and I didn't know if I was meant to reply or not, so kept quiet.

'I have two shows coming up for you in the next month, if you are still happy to do them,' he went on, and looked at me questioningly.

I nodded quietly, and he looked relieved, then said, 'If you are happy to carry on, then I shall be very happy. Perhaps you will join me for dinner tonight?'

I was only too pleased to be asked, and agreed, of course, but then he said, 'Do something now, would you, my dear?'

'Yes, of course,' I said.

He stood, and said, 'Kneel here, on the floor, please.' I did as he told me.

'Now take off your blouse.'

I unbuttoned my silk blouse, and slipped it off my shoulders. He walked around me, cupping a breast briefly with one hand and giving the briefest of touches to a hardening nipple, sending rivets of pleasure into my very centre.

I knew what was coming, even though it had been unexpected up until that moment, as soon as he took up the switch he kept on his desk, a short, thin cane with a leather grip. Without ceremony, he lashed me with all his strength, hard across the tender flesh of my back, just below my shoulder blades.

'Oh,' I cried, softly, and waited for the next awful stinging stroke, which came almost instantly, just below the site of the first one. The pain was fierce, and I writhed under its influence as he took aim again, and forced me to cry out with the agony, which was now merging, as it always did, with a new sensation, an ecstasy and luscious desire that welled up and brought juices oozing into my cunt. Five near-unbearable strokes he gave me, then threw the switch down on the desk, as I looked into his eyes beseechingly.

'I know, my dear,' he said, 'come here!'

He sat back down in his chair and made me bend over his desk in front of him, first inspecting the red wheals his handiwork had left, then he pushed my legs apart, and thrust his hand into my sopping crack.

'My, you are wet, Vanessa,' he said, and it took him no time at all to finger-fuck me to a raging orgasm, which had been 'waiting in the wings.'

'Now,' he said, 'go rest, but when you dress for dinner, put on a backless gown, please. Be ready at nine.'

In the event, I chose a long grey silk halter-neck gown, with a loose bodice, which grazed my nipples, causing them to stick out against thee thin material, and my breasts jiggled prettily when I moved. The skirt was tight around my ankles which was another sensation I liked, combining well with my ultra-high heels, I thought. When I looked over my back into the mirror, the stripes left by the afternoon's whipping were all-too obvious, but I needed a mink stole to keep off the cool Madrid night air anyway, so nobody would notice before they were supposed to.

We arrived at the restaurant, and were duly greeted by Serafím, the Head Waiter, who showed us to a secluded corner table set for four. I looked a question at Rafael, who smiled benignly down at me as we took our places.

'We are to be joined by a young couple, my dear,' he said, 'and I think you should be able to help me with them.'

'Ah,' I caught on, 'so now I'm procuring, eh?'

He smiled condescendingly and his hand was transmitting electricity to my thigh under the table, 'You remember being recruited? Here in this restaurant?' And in your little hotel?'

'Will I ever forget? You have changed my life.'

And, before I could dwell upon just how much, the lugubrious Serafím was shepherding a young couple, obviously English, in our direction. The guy, who led the way, was tall and blond, with an athletic build and clean-cut, college-boy appearance. In the fine restaurant, he looked incongruous in jeans and a U-2 tee-shirt. In tow was a girl who might have had one Indian parent. She was of medium height, a little shorter than myself, willowy and slim, with olive skin-tone, huge dark eyes, a long aristocratic nose, and a long mane of silky black hair, which she wore loose, falling to her waist. She was clad in flared cream trousers and a cropped brown jumper, revealing that her pierced navel sported a silver pendant with some sort of stone in it. She had large silver hoops depending from her ears, and her wrists jangled with silver bracelets.

Rafael introduced them to me as Jason and Sylvia, and we took our places for the meal, during which little was said, other than small-talk. In truth, the meal was far too good. There is nowhere better in the world for seafood than Madrid, and the oysters, followed by bogavante, were unbeatable. I could see our English guests thinking they had died and gone to Heaven as the meal progressed. Jason's eyes, however, seldom strayed from my nipples while he fumbled with the cumbersome seafood.

But there was a certain tension, one of anticipated business, in the air, and Rafael snapped his fingers at Serafím when we had finished our sweets, and we were shown into a private lounge, and brought coffee things on a huge tray.

Rafael cleared his throat and addressed me: 'Vanessa, can I just explain to you now that I met these two young people yesterday, and invited them tonight? They were brought here from their hotel by my man. I think we might interest them in joining us.'

Then he turned to the young couple, 'I have brought Vanessa along with me because, like yourselves, she is English, and she has worked for me for some time now. She recently did very successful work for me in the USA. You will have noticed her style of dress.' He looked directly at Jason at this point, and the young guy made a face which was worth a thousand words.

Sylvia was also paying rapt attention to Rafael now, and waiting for what he was about to say. They both sensed that 'there was no such thing as a free meal' and that some sort of offer was about to be made.

Rafael launched into it: 'I don't want you to think that I go around just picking up anybody off the street,' he said, 'and maybe you will not be interested when you have a rough idea what this is about. I take a chance on young people, based on what I observe, how they look and dress, things like that. I am seldom wrong, but I have occasionally made mistakes. Let me first of all say that this is a chance to make a great deal of money. Then let me say that this is only the case if you are able and willing to accept and enjoy a lifestyle which few people have even considered, for several years.'

He paused to let that sink in, and saw that he had their undivided attention. He continued, 'I run an unusual business from the Casa Fontana, and before I tell you about it, I need an assurance of your discretion.' He paused and looked from one to the other of them, then, seeing no reason not to, he launched into a long description of the BDSM reality shows, and the worldwide nature of his business.

To conclude, he said, 'I rely heavily upon the fact that I do not use actors and actresses in my shows – hence the term "reality" – please stand up now, my dear Vanessa!'

I got to my feet, and dropped the stole I had wrapped about me for the short journey from the dining room. I did a little twirl in front of the young couple, so that they could see the angry red stripes which newly adorned my back. Then I reached down and took Rafael's extended hand, bent down, and kissed it lingeringly.

A silence descended on the room, and I sat down again, looking at Jason, whose eyes had followed my every movement. He looked as if he was about to say something, but then looked sideways at his partner, who broke the silence.

'I'm in,' said Sylvia, 'you found us looking in the window of a BDSM bookshop, so you know we are interested, right?'

'It's one thing being interested, and quite another being committed,' said Rafael, 'look, take the night to make up your minds. If you haven't phoned me by eleven tomorrow morning, a car will collect you from your hotel at twelve, and you will begin a month's paid trial with us, OK?'

In the car on our way home, I said to Rafael, 'You old fraud, you found them looking at BDSM books – and I thought it was intuition!'

I saw that he was smirking in the glow of the streetlights.

Next day, no call came, so that the chauffeur, Javier, was sent in the Chrysler Voyager to collect Jason and Sylvia from their hotel. Rafael had already telephoned the hotel and arranged to pay their modest bill.

When they arrived at Casa Fontana, their eyes were wide with wonderment as they took in the luxurious surroundings, and Alicia, stunning in her trademark Grecian-type flowing white dress, took Jason by the arm and led him off to his room, while I took charge of Sylvia, showing her to hers. I explained that they were to be separated during most of their training, as couples, as such, were not encouraged in the organisation. She made no protest at this, seeming more excited at the prospect of wearing all the beautiful clothes I showed her.

When I had let her have a good look at the room and all the clothes and accessories she would be permitted to wear, I sat her down and took her through the rules she would have to abide by during her period of training. She found some of the rules hard to understand, as we all had at first, and was almost inclined to protest when I rang for one of the maids to take away her suitcase, with all her clothes and personal make-up kit, etc., and put it into storage. I had her strip, and was quite pleased with her lithe, half-Asian body, but told her that we should have to remove all her body-hair.

After she had showered, I made her sit on a plastic stool in the bathroom, and told her to open her legs, while I knelt between them on a bathmat. I lathered her already fairly sparse pubic hair thoroughly, then started to take it off with gentle strokes of a new razor. I carefully worked my way around her neat, dark labia, taking off every vestige of hair, and pulling her forward on the seat, removed even the fluffy scraps of hair that grew just around what looked to be a completely virgin arsehole.

My curiosity piqued, I licked a finger and suddenly introduced it into the tiny, puckered entrance of her anus, and watched her face as I did so. Her eyes widened, and her pretty mouth opened in an 'O' as my questing finger probed at her nether hole, then she closed her eyes, and I withdrew my finger, running it up through her now-bare crack, which was moist with her juices.

'No woman has ever touched me before,' she said.

'You liked it though,' I replied.

'I don't know – I'm just.......just excited,' she said, 'it's all so different.'

I had her dress in a dark blue silk miniskirt and white silk blouse, almost transparent, so that the darkness of her nipples was clearly visible through it. Then I showed her the shoe selection, and she was obliged to wear high stilettos. She chose strappy black sandals, laced up her ankles, similar to the ones I was wearing. It was a warm late morning outside, and I suggested we go for a walk, just the two of us.

'Like this?' she said, aghast at the idea of going out without underwear in such flimsy clothing. Then she realised that I wore only a cotton ra-ra skirt and cropped top, under which I was similarly naked, and she smiled and, tossing her lovely mane of black hair, linked arms with me as we walked out.

'You know,' she said, as we walked through the streets to our local shops, 'it's a lovely feeling, the fresh air on your naked pussy, isn't it?'

Back at the Casa Fontana, we lunched together, with Alicia and Jason, and whilst we were taking coffee, Rafael came over to speak with us.

'Are these two settled in, then?' he asked.

I replied that Sylvia was settling in very well and would soon be ready to start training, but Alicia wanted a private word with Rafael, and they went off and stood by the bar, whispering quietly, whilst the three of us engaged in awkward small talk.

After a while, Rafael burst out laughing, then the two of them returned to us, and Rafael addressed the two newcomers: 'Welcome to the Fontana, both of you. Now it is time for your training to begin. As you have been told, you will mostly be separated for this. Now go to your respective rooms. Maids will come and prepare you shortly.'

When he had gone, leaving me alone with Alicia, I turned to my colleague, 'And what was that all about, may I ask?'

'You don't want to know.'

'Yes I do!'

'OK then, seeing as you insist. I was telling the boss that our new friend has a rather small cock.'

'No! – really?'

'Yes, really, but he knows how to use it.'

'You soon found that out!'

'Come on, darling, I had him for over an hour. Anyway, Rafael thinks he'll be kind to our arseholes.'

I wasn't so sure, having so recently had my anus invaded by Sam's mighty tool in New York, and Alicia knew what was passing through my mind. We ended up in a fit of giggling, which only ended when one of the uniformed maids led Jason back in, this time dressed in one of our ritual outfits, a monastic cowelled robe. Tucked into the tasselled cord at his waist was a spectacular bull-whip I felt sure he would never be able to wield. I told him to stay there a moment until Sylvia arrived, and we hadn't long to wait before another maid, a little Chinese one I rather fancied sleeping with, ushered in the nervous-looking newcomer, dressed in a long, sheer white nightgown, through which every detail of her slender body could be seen. Her ankles were joined by a short length of heavy steel chain, which clanked as she walked, and her hair was tied up in a knot on top of her head. She was devoid of any jewellery and was barefoot.

Alicia and I led them in a procession through to our small theatre, where a stage was always prepared for the type of scene we were to enact, equipped with two big wooden St Andrew's crosses, each with ring-bolts set into their extremities. There were also two big, low couches. On a table was an array of whips and paddles, floggers and canes, of all kinds, and a sufficiency of handcuffs.

Quickly I stripped off the nightgown, then cuffed Sylvia's wrists and ankles, and fastened her to one of the crosses, facing it. She was spread-eagled defencelessly, looking around at me imploringly, though whether asking for mercy, or to be punished, I couldn't say.

Jason stepped up eagerly, but Alicia restrained him, and quietly unclipped the clasps at her shoulders, letting her gown fall in a whisper of silk, in a pool at her stiletto-clad feet.

'You can whip me,' she said, reaching into Jason's robe, to where he was growing an erection which seemed to belie what she had said about his size.

Alicia nodded to me, and I obeyed, cuffing her to the other cross. She knew I should whip Sylvia more professionally than Jason, and wanted to taunt him, anyway, I thought.

Before taking the whip to Sylvia, I decided to verify Alicia's opinion of Jason, and, as he was stood next to me, he didn't object when I opened his robe and slid it off his broad shoulders. He had a truly magnificent body, with the muscle definition of a true athlete, but it was true that his weapon was of modest proportions, to say the least, even allowing for a rampant erection I felt sure I could have swung on. I gave it a sympathetic stroke, and he looked away quickly, no doubt aware of what I was thinking.

As if in reprisal, he picked up the whip, which had fallen to the floor, and tried his hand at wielding it. I watched as he clumsily wasted a lot of effort and lost most of the speed of the stroke before the lash came into contact with Alicia's white flank, causing her neither pain nor any sort of mark.

'Watch!' I said, and picked up a much smaller dog whip from the table, took a brief exploratory swish, and then a 'crack,' echoed through the empty theatre as the cruel lash stung Sylvia's delicate olive upper back, leaving a fine red line right across from side to side.

'Oh,' she cried, and looked back over her shoulder at me with tears in her eyes as I prepared to repeat the stroke. The expression on her lovely face was something I found hard to read, but before I struck her again, I moved to her side and pushed her silky hair out of her eyes. Now there was only Sylvia and me in the world. I had blotted out Jason, and Alicia – they could do what they liked, all of a sudden – this was something only a dominitrix and her slave could begin to understand. She framed her lips, and now I understood. She wanted me to kiss her, and I did so, deeply, our tongues entwining, searching, then I pulled away, stood back and lashed her with all my force, lower down this time, drawing a deep, animal moan from her, and causing her to writhe in her bonds.

Jason, watching, said, simply, 'Oh, wow,' and turned to Alicia to try again. This time, I saw out of the corner of my eye, he had a little more success, making a just-visible stripe across her buttocks.

'Jason,' I called, 'throw that fucking great thing away, and use the crop, from the table!'

He did as I told him, and immediately started to make a pretty pattern of red wheals across Alicia's back.

I meanwhile decided that I would give my charge no more than six good lashes of the brutal whip – enough for a first time, an finished her off with an extra fierce one to the top of her buttocks, which drew tiny droplets of blood along the line of the welt.

I undid her cuffs, noting that Jason had already released Alicia, and she fell into my arms.

I led Sylvia gently up the rear passageway to my bedroom, and laid her face down on my bed, telling her not to move while I fetched some oils. I soothed her wounds gently, and her doe-like eyes regarded me again with some sort of adoration.

'Oh, Vanessa,' she said, 'Make love to me. I'm so wet – I came when you whipped me, but I need your body next to mine.

I stripped off my skirt and top and joined her on the bed, moving her gingerly onto her side so as not to hurt her any more. She accommodatingly lifted her leg so that I could feel the wetness she had alluded to – and she was indeed sopping wet. I manoeuvred into a '69' position and pulled her puffy labia apart to insert my tongue into the depths of her sweet-smelling, soaking cunt. Her fuckhole was a hot, lustful cavern, which seemed to suck me into its very innermost recesses as I plunged my tongue way inside heer, and I felt her responding in kind as I opened myself to her, her tongue thrusting, rapier-like into my own rapidly moistening vagina.

We fingered each others' clits simultaneously as we tongued, and I felt the familiar surge of a welling orgasm taking over my body, as Sylvia cried out that she too was about to cum.

After we had lain together for a time, we dressed and I went in search of Alicia. I found her in the coffee bar.

'Well?' I asked.

'Well what?' she said, cagily.

'Oh, come on,' I laughed.

'OK,' she said, 'they say size isn't everything, and he's a stayer, I'll say that.'