Wheals of Fortune Ch. 01

'That's Mr Gordon,' whispered Carla, 'and his wife Rosa.'

I did a double-take when Rosa half stood to take off her jacket. She was almost the double of Maria – the very Maria who had so recently made it so painful for me to sit down. But she was so much more refined. She wore a short satin dress which was probably by Versace, over seamed stockings and needle heels. Her ear-lobes, wrists and an ankle sported a lot of gold jewellery, but not too much, and her long black hair shone as it cascaded down her back..

'And that's who wants somebody to work for her?' I wanted to know.

'Yes. Interested?'

'Does the Pope say his prayers?'

'I'll introduce you a bit later.'

After a while the couple got up to leave, and Carla made as if to stand up and leave at the same time.

'Hello, Mr Gordon, Rosa,' she said.

'Hello Carla, are you well?' asked Gordon.

Rosa chimed in, her accent remarkably similar to that of Maria, 'And just who is this beautiful creature you have with you, Carla?'

Carla introduced me, and told Rosa I was looking for a job.

'Come and see me in my office, my dear!' she said, and I thought I should faint from sheer joy.

'Now?' I wanted to know.

'Yes,' she said, glancing at her husband, 'you don't mind, do you darling?'

'Go ahead,' he said, giving his wife a non-too-subtle nod, and Rosa took my hand in her cool one and led me down a very short passageway, through an oak door, and into a luxurious office, where she bade me sit in a leather armchair, whilst she took another.

'So you are wanting a job?' she said, 'and by the looks of you, you are interested in restraint, at least?'

I nodded.

'And I assume your being here with your friend, er…..Carla, is it?...means that you are have some idea what this club is all about?'

I nodded again.

'Can I ask you if you have ever been physically punished?'

I told her about my caning episode, and she started to laugh, which surprised me, When she saw my expression, she said, 'I suppose it was Maria who caned you, yes?'

'How did you know that?' I asked, surprised, to say the least.

'She is my sister!' she said, and went on to tell me that, although they saw little of each other, they shared many tendencies. She asked me about my reaction to being caned, and I told her it had hurt terribly, but had excited me too. She seemed satisfied by that, then paused before continuing.

'Let me tell you briefly what it is I want, then you either go and forget all about this conversation, or we take it from here, OK?'

'OK,' I agreed.

'What I don't want is a nine to five worker. I want someone twenty-four-seven.' She paused to let this sink in, saw I wasn't phased by it, then went on.

'I want someone living in, with her own room, but constantly on call, unless she isn't required by my husband or me. There will be no cleaning or housework, no cooking or anything like that, though you may sometime be called upon to act as a waitress or hostess to guests. The pay will be extremely good, with a monthly salary paid into a Swiss account, and all pension rights etc maintained correctly. Do you have any questions?'

'Well, yes,' I said, 'you haven't said anything about what the job entails at all.'

She smiled, and at that moment I knew I would do absolutely anything for her.

'You would be my slave, my dear,' she said, as normally as if she had said 'secretary,' 'and your duties would be various. You would gratify my urges, and those of my husband, occasionally be loaned to our intimate friends, attend our parties and other celebrations, accompany us on our visits abroad, that sort of thing.'

I felt a sudden surge of panic at what might be required of me.

'But….but….what will I need to…………?' My question tailed off.

Rosa smiled again. 'Don't worry. If you agree to join me – and I think you'd like to – you'll have a list of rules given to you, a code of dress and so forth. And I think I can guarantee you a life full of sensations few people experience.'

Her last sentence sounded carefully chosen, and intrigued me, but I was, in any case, hooked by this gorgeous woman. She was speaking again.

'So what do you think, Julie – are you interested?'

'Yes, I am,' I heard myself saying, 'I'd love to work for you.'

She became businesslike: 'When can you start?'

'As soon as my present employer will release me. I think I'm on a week's notice,' I said.

'Good, so that's agreed, then. You can start Monday week. We will have your room ready for you to move into the day before, so that you may make all necessary arrangements. Carla tells me your apartment is rented furnished, so there should be no problem there, and we will remove personal items for you. Any debts you may have will be cancelled. I take it that will be in order?'

'Oh yes, thank you!'

'Thank you, Mistress, from now on, please, Julie!'

'Of course, yes, Mistress!' I replied, in a daze.

Sunday afternoon. I stood outside Mr Gordon's palatial mansion, watching two brawny guys carrying my pitifully few possessions from a white van, in through a pair of heavy oak doors, watched also by a petite, uniformed Spanish maid, whose name I had learnt was Pilar, and who spoke very few words of English. She wore a black velvet dress, white frilly apron, seamed black nylons and high heels, and her jet-black hair was caught up in a neat pony-tail. Of Mr and Mrs Gordon there was no sign, and I was shown my room in silence by Pilar. The men left my three boxes of odds and ends, two suitcases and a few clothes on the huge four-poster bed, which I tested an found to my liking. I then found that I had an en-suite bathroom, and – glory be! – a dressing-room, complete with a huge walk-in closet. When I looked inside, I found the rails were full of clothes, with scarcely enough spare room to hang my own things. I managed, however, and assumed that they must have forgotten to clear out someone else's gear before I came. When I checked out the bathroom, I discovered that it a stocked with cosmetics and perfumes of many, many kinds – and, most surprisingly, all the bottles, jars and tubes were new and unopened.

I fussed around for a while, enjoying the view of the huge gardens from my big bay window, and setting up the few photos of family and other mementoes I had had brought on the dresser and window sill.

I was just thinking of having a shower, and perhaps changing out of my habitual Sunday track suit and tee shirt, left over from this morning's run, when a timid knock sounded on my door and Pilar was there, handing me an envelope.

When I opened it, a single sheet of expensive embossed paper was inside. I read the letter, written on a computer or word-processor:-

Dear Julie,

Welcome home. I am sorry not to be here to greet you, but if there is anything you need, you may telephone me on the number below, and I will explain to Pilar what it is you require. I regret she speaks little English.

All the clothes you will find in your closet are for your use – you should find them a reasonably good fit. There is such lingerie as you are allowed in the drawers also. Shoes are also provided. I do not expect you to wear anything other than the clothes I have provided, except, of course, when you have a day off. At the moment, these will be restricted to Sundays, unless by special arrangement.

Your special period of training will commence tomorrow, and will be harsh, as I am sure you understand. How long it lasts will depend entirely on your own performance.

I have instructed Pilar to bring you dinner tonight in your room.

Tomorrow, you will rise a seven, and Pilar will bring you breakfast, plus some items for you to put on, and instructions as to how you should prepare. She will return for you at eight.

I trust that is clear, and look forward to our new relationship

Your Mistress

Rosa

There followed her telephone number, which I knew I would rather die than ring.

God, what was I getting into? I was suddenly terrified by the tone of her letter, but when I went through the amazing clothes in the closet, I felt a lot better. The evening gowns were just fantastic, by Lagerfeld and Prado, Versace and Balenciaga – when I had struggled to shop at Marks and Spencer. And sexy just wasn't the word! They were clothes you never normally saw away from the catwalk. I switched my attention to the drawers. There I found some slips, several vicious-looking corsets, a few half-bras,

some garter belts, and packets containing stockings of various types. No panties of any description. A top drawer contained lots of costume jewellery – all good stuff.

I decided to pin my hair up and take a long soak in the bath, and then pampered myself with lots of creams and stuff I didn't really need, and was luxuriating in a heavy embroidered silk kimono when Pilar appeared with a huge silver tray bearing my dinner. As I feasted on a seafood salad with hot rolls, followed by tiramisu, and washed down with a half-bottle of Freixanet, I made up my mind that, come what may, this was the life for me!

I turned the bedclothes back and found satin sheets. Wow! Crawling naked between them was another delicious treat, and I slept as never before, until my alarm awoke me rudely at seven. It was still dark outside. I slipped on the kimono again, and had very little time to wait before a smiling Pilar was at my door, this time with a much smaller tray.

'Buenos días,' she said, and laid down the tray – coffee, croissants, and orange juice – then quickly disappeared. Ten minutes later I had finished, and she was back, this time with a wicker box, which she silently exchanged for my tray, glancing at me with a look which I found impossible to interpret – but wished I could.

I took the box over to my sofa and opened it. I had half-known what to expect, anyway, but still trembled as I took out the items, one-by-one.

There were five thick leather straps, each with buckles and rings set into them. I quickly identified them as being for my neck, ankles and wrists. There were two heavy lengths of stainless steel chain, one longer than the other, and there was another device I had never seen before, but knew immediately to be a pair of silver screw-down nipple clamps, joined by a fine length of chain. I sat and looked at the array, only slowly becoming aware of an envelope at the bottom of the box.

Of course, her note had said something about 'instructions.' I opened it and took out the single sheet.

Good morning, Julie,

I trust you slept well. Your training must now begin. Put on the ankle and wrist restraints and the collar. The last item you will always wear when I am in residence.

Apply your make-up carefully, making yourself beautiful, and pin your hair up. Connect your ankles with the longer length of chain. Put on the black negligee you will find at the extreme right of the rail in your closet. Now connect your wrists with the shorter chain. Lastly put on the nipple clamps, tightening them down as hard as you can bear.

You will be collected.

I await you

Your Mistress

Rosa.

I read through it twice, apprehension and excitement vying with each other in my mind as I contemplated the coming events – and the unknown. Shrugging, I put on the restraints, and found I actually loved the feel of them – or perhaps it was what they signified? Not caring to think too hard about it, I busied myself with my make-up, laying on the eye-shadow and lip-gloss more heavily than usual – I wanted to be pretty for my Mistress. My long blonde hair presented no problem, as it had always been manageable. I took the next step, and connected my ankles with the heavy chain, making me really feel like a slave, as I went over to the wardrobe to find the negligee. There it was, a long, transparent, black nylon garment, with voluminous sleeves, a fine fur trim around the hem, cuffs and neckline, and a big ribbon to fasten it around my waist. I slipped it on, and checked myself in the mirror. I looked very sexy, I thought, my breasts and shaven mound wholly visible through the thin black nylon. I went back to the dresser, and shackled my wrists with the shorter chain, in accordance with my instructions, then – the moment I had been dreading, and putting off – I picked up the feared nipple clamps. My nipples had always been highly sensitive, and I gasped when I pulled one of them out, at the pain it sent coursing through me, and also the instant tingling sensation it created in my pussy. Gingerly, I offered up on of the clamps, glad to be able to do it myself, and screwed it down, very slightly, and then just a bit more, until my eyes watered with the pain, and I was squirming on the dressing-table stool. I repeated the operation with the other one, and looked proudly at the mirror, up at the image of a slave-girl, with her nipple-clamps in place. I felt surprisingly……..what? Yes, proud! But then I started to wonder what else was in store for me, and was getting more anxious by the minute when a knock sounded on the door.

'Come in!' I called.

Pilar entered, carrying something in her right hand. She revealed it as a rolled up leather leash, which she unrolled, and, coming round to where I was sitting, clipped the end to the ring in my collar, smiling nicely at me. We had no words in common, but there was a bond of comradeship between us, and I nodded to say I was ready, and stood up to be led by her. She walked slowly, so that I should have no trouble following her with my shackled ankles, but I shuffled along barefoot, the chain clanking across parquet floor and down stairs behind Pilar's clicking stilettos.

She led me through a big pair off double doors into a large, comfortably furnished lounge, which had, incongruously, a huge wooden cross set solidly under a sort of gallery at the far side. It had snap-links at the ends of its arms, which I assumed I should be spread-eagled to, but Pilar unfastened the leash from my collar, and replaced it with another snap-link, this time at the end of a heavy chain, about three metres long, which was secured at its other end to the base of the cross. Without a word, she left, closing the doors silently behind her. I was alone, chained to a cross, trembling, awaiting my fate. I sat on the floor, as I couldn't reach any seat, constrained by the chain.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably no more than twenty minutes, the doors swung open, and in walked my Mistress, dressed in white silk nightgown and negligee set and high-heeled mules, her long black hair loose, cascading down her back to her waist.

'Good morning Julie,' she said quietly, 'I see you understood your instructions.'

She sat in an armchair, and regarded me coolly.

'Yesterday, I spoke to my sister about you. She hoped you would go back to her, but doubted that you would. She felt you needed more than just a simple caning, and is, frankly, envious of me for engaging your services. I hope you will not disappoint me, Julie.'

'I hope not too, Mistress,' I said.

'Stand up!' she said, 'I wish to inspect you.'

She came close, and her perfume filled the air. It was Guerlain, I was sure. She went over my body carefully, probing, inspecting.

'You must, from now on, always wear ear-rings, from the collection in your drawer,' she told me, then as she looked critically at me, poking around with her fingers, 'I will have your tongue pierced, as soon as possible. I find that gives much pleasure. You may as well have your clit-hood and navel done at the same time.'

She looked closely at my hands.

'Your nails could be better – I will have you seen by my girl. As you will not be doing housework, your nails should be perfect.'

Next she lifted up my negligee and looked at the fading evidence of my caning.

'Mmmm,' she said, 'my sister's handiwork is disappearing. This morning I shall give you something much prettier. I'm sure you will enjoy that, won't you?'

I nodded my assent, but she wanted more.

'Won't you!' she demanded, harshly.

'Yes, Mistress.'

'But you don't know what I'm going to do to you, my dear, do you?'

'No Mistress.'

'I'm going to whip you, my dear, but later. Before that, I have another part of your training that I should like to attend to. Stay there, please.'

She walked across the lounge, her heels clicking across the woodblock floor, and was back in an instant.

'On your knees!' she told me, and I obeyed.

She was on her own knees behind me in an instant, and flipped my negligee up over my waist, then pushed my legs as far part as my ankle-chain would allow.

To my dismay, I felt her fingers begin to explore the tiny puckered entrance of my arsehole, and gasped in alarm as her long-nailed forefinger went straight into my anus, where nothing had ever penetrated before.

'Oh. Oh, Christ, that hurts, Oh, Mistress, please, not there, please,' I protested.

'You will have to be prepared, my dear,' was all she said, and, before I could say any more, I felt some kind of cream being introduced into my rectum, then she suddenly had two fingers wriggling around deep within me, causing me new sensations I had never known to exist.

'Oh, Mistress, Oh Mistress!' I moaned, 'please, please!'

'Please, what?' she said, 'I think you start to like it, you little slut, don't you?'

She withdrew her fingers, and now I felt a new, entirely new pain, as something

Much, much bigger, took their place, and was rammed unceremoniously deep within my arsehole.

'There, my dear little slave, you have your first butt-plug in place. You will keep it there for twenty-four hours – is that understood?'

I felt as if it was splitting me apart, and didn't know how I could keep it in for an hour, let alone twenty four.

'Oh Mistress, I can't!' I said.

She fetched me a resounding slap across my cheek, and said, 'You will obey, please!'

Then she stood and left the room abruptly. I turned over tenderly and sat sideways on the floor – more waiting seemed to be the order of the day.

I had almost nodded off, despite the discomfort of the floor, and my poor, ravaged anus, when the door opened again. It was not Mistress Rosa, this time, but her husband, Mr Gordon, wearing a paisley dressing gown. I started to get up, but he strode over to me before I had time to do so, and said, 'I hope you are comfortable in my home. Julie, isn't it?'

'Yes, sir,' I said.

'Hm,' he murmured, 'let me have a look at you!'

He raised me to a kneeling position, pulling me by the chain attached to my collar, then switched his attention to my nipple clamps, tugging at their connecting chain.

'Do you like these?' he asked, looking down at me.

'Yes, sir,' I replied, really uncertain of how to respond.

'So you enjoy pain, then?' he said.

'Sometimes, sir,' I said, hesitantly. He took something from the pocket of his dressing gown, and palmed it, so that I couldn't see what it was, but when he pushed aside the top of my negligee, my eyes widened when I saw he held a long needle with a bone handle. With no more ado, he pierced the flesh above my right breast with it, and I screamed out loud.

'I thought you liked pain?' he said.

'Oh, please, sir!' I pleaded, and he withdrew the awful needle, but now he had a massive erection, poking right into my face, and I knew exactly what he wanted. I rounded my lips nd took the crown of his long, hard cock gently into my lips, letting my tongue lap around the tip, licking off a little pre-cum that had formed. I raised my shackled hands, and caressed his balls, licked the whole length of his shaft, revelling in hearing his groans, then, looking up into his eyes, I let him plunge his entire rod deep into my throat, and sucked with all my might, until I felt him stiffen, then he shot his load of hot, sticky spunk hard into my throat. I licked him clean and swallowed every drop. He left the room soundlessly. Whether it was the effect of having a hard cock in my mouth for the first time in months, the butt-plug up my arse, or the nipple-clamps, or a combination of all three, my juices were welling up as Mr. Gordon left the room, and I found myself masturbating furiously, without having intended anything of the sort. I closed my eyes as the shaking climax overtook me, and, when I opened them again, my Mistress was standing over me.