Sara's Silken Ladder Ch. 01

'Yes, I am.'

'And to accept without question any instructions I may give you?'

I looked at her seriously. What kind of instructions? But then I saw her lovely oval face, and, looking down, saw her long, perfectly manicured finger laced into mine.

'Yes,' I replied.

'Then you must understand that you will address me as 'mistress' when we are alone, and you will always wear what I tell you to. Any failures on your part, and you will be punished.'

'Punished?'

'Yes, darling, I expect I shall whip you from time to time, and not always because you have done something wrong, but also for my pleasure – and yours.'

I was shocked into silence by that last remark. I should have been telling her to fuck right off, I knew – the whole idea was outrageous, but......... But why were juices welling up inside me? What, after all, was it that attracted me to this aloof, elegant lady, who seemed to want to humiliate me, inflict physical pain on me? I had, I realised with a start, already consented to be her 'slut.' But this 'punishment' that she so casually spoke of. When she said she would whip me, an image sprang into my mind – a girl in a long white dress, led into some medieval dungeon, there to be stripped and chained to the wall, before being flogged by a bare-chested man, her back welted and bleeding. Was I really some kind of masochist?

But as I pondered that question, I saw that, having released my hand, she was slipping open the bow in my sash, so the the two sides of my negligee fell apart, and my body, naked save for the stockings, was revealed. I parted my legs when Helen's hand slid down into my damp slit, then moaned when she probed within my outer labia, finding the hard little nub of my clit, and flicking at it with long, tapered nails. She plunged three fingers togther deep into my cunt, then joined them with a fourth, stretching my membranes to what I thought was their limit, until her thumb was funneled in with all the rest, and she was wriggling and twisting her hand, working its entirity into my now soaking vagina. I groaned and bucked as she brought her other hand around to work on my clit, and, when I came, I stiffened and screamed.

After perhaps half an hour, during which not a word had been spoken, Helen said quietly, 'Now it's my turn.'

She undid her sash, and I slipped off the sofa, to kneel between her long legs, which she parted wide. I fell on her, loving the perfumed smell of her wet pussy, as I lapped the length of her glistening pink crack, letting my tongue-stud alternately play on top of her nice prominent clitoris, then plunge deep into the black, mysterious depths of her succulent cunt.

'Oh Sara, that is soooo good!' she breathed, 'I have wanted you to do this since the first time I saw you.'

Her breathing got shorter and much faster, and my tongue tried to keep in rhythm with it, then she clasped my head in her hands, and groaned, then squirted copious quantities of her precious fluid all over my face.

'Oh Helen...' I started to say.

'Mistress, now, I think, darling,' she corrected gently.

'Oh mistress, that was so exciting!' Using her new title somehow didn't feel as strange as I had thought it would. Christ! What was happening to me?

'Good girl,' she said, 'we'll have a drink, shall we?'

I got to my feet to go and get a drink.

'No darling, I'll get it,' said Helen, 'being my slave doesn't mean you're my maidservant. I'll get us a drink, then show you your room – I think you'll like it.'

My room! So she had been planning this. Jesus, what was I getting into?

After a glass of smooth malt whisky, she led me to the room. It was beautiful – a big double bed, huge mirror-doored wardrobe all along one wall, a dressing table, window with a view across a small walled garden, and glory of glories, an en-suite shower-room.

'If you like it, I'll attend to your wardrobe, and make sure you have all the cosmetics and things you need. You can go and get your things from your flat tomorrow.'

'But I have to give notice there!'

'I've dealt with that,' she said, and smiled at my open-mouthed astonishment. I had been manipulated completely, but I couldn't find it in my heart to be annoyed. After my grave disappointment with Nadia, here was someone who really wanted me!

'You'll find a nightie in that drawer,'she said, indicating a built-in set when she opened one of the wardrobe doors, 'I expect you'll want to get some sleep, but if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. Tomorrow's Sunday, so no hurry.'

'Thank you, mistress.' I was indeed tired out, and slipped off the negligee, rolled down my stockings, and put on the short silk slip I found in the drawer. I got into luxurious satin sheets, and was asleep in an instant.

It took me some moments to locate myself in the strange bed when I awoke, but a smell of coffee permeated the apartment, so I put on last night's negligee and went into the kitchen, where Helen was already dressed, in a nice leather suit.

'I'll help you collect your things this morning, then we can perhaps do some shopping,' she said, 'you'd better put on the clothes you had on last night, until we get you some more things.'

In my tiny room, Helen looked around with distaste, as I started getting out my pathetically few belongings. She told me to get rid of all my jeans and a trouser-suit, so we parcelled them up to take to a charity shop, then she had me throw away all my underwear, except for two garter belts. My shoes also went, leaving only two suitcases full of stuff to take – all I possessed in the world, I thought.

Avoiding carefully the store where we worked, we did our shopping – or rather Helen bought clothes for me, some nice dresses, skirts and blouses, and three long evening gowns – 'I like long dresses,' she said, 'they promise hidden delights.' Most of the things she bought me were silk, or of synthetic, silky materials, and two of the evening gowns were very revealing, halter-neck, backless affairs. Then we called at two stores for some shoes – three pairs of stilettos. Before we left the clothes shops, she had me try on a black skirt, knee-length, and so tight I could hardly walk, let alone sit down, in it. 'Mmm, she murmured, 'very nice!' When she had bought that, she took me around into a back street, to a corsetiere's shop. It was up a flight of stairs, and the doorbell brought a woman to the door.

'Simone, I want you to meet Sara,' said Helen, introducing me to a petite, Audrey Hepburn-like woman Helen's age, with short-cropped blonde hair and extravagantly long gold ear-rings. When she shook hands with me, I was impressed by her immensely long nails, of which one – her left pinky – was pierced, and decorated with a fine gold chain, connected to her gold bracelet. She wore a black velvet dress which didn't look as if she did any actual work in it.

'I am pleased to meet you,' Simone said, in a pronounced French accent, 'what does Helen want you fitted with?' I thought her choice of words odd, but it was clear that she and my new mistress were close friends.

Helen answered for me. 'I want you to give her a corset, like you sold me for Dita.'

My ears pricked up at this. Who was Dita? But Simone was twirling me around, and said, 'Please undress.'

I hesitated. Naked under my skirt and blouse, I was embarrassed to be stripped in front of this stranger, but Helen rapped, 'Well?' in a tone that brooked no prevarication. I hurriedly slipped the blouse off over my head, and unfastened my waistband, then pushed the skirt down over my hips. I stood in hold-ups and heels, while Simones looked me over dispassionately.

'Hmm,' she said, 'wait there.' She went out through a curtained doorway, and the sound of her moving stuff around occupied a few minutes, while I stood, feeling very conspicuous, in the middle of the floor, Helen, seated on an upholstered bench, running her eyes over me. 'You'll have to learn to be more obliging, Sara,' she said, 'I may well loan you to Simone one day soon.'

My mouth dropped open, but before I had a chance to retort, the Frenchwoman was back, carrying a box, which she set down beside Helen, and whisked off the lid.

'Yes, that's the kind of thing,' she said, 'let's see if it fits her.'

Simone took out of the box a pristine white corset, which she placed around my body, buttoning it up the front. It fitted tightly, pushing my naked breasts up above its underwired top. At its lower end, another lacy fringe was arched high at the rear, leaving my buttocks bare, and long garter straps hung from it.

'It's tight,' I said, and Simone laughed, a pretty little laugh. She moved around behind me and I felt myself constricted so that I could hardly breathe as she suddenly dragged at the laces which criss-crossed the opening in the corset's back. She was stronger than she looked, and it hurt terribly, but when I looked in the full-length mirror on one wall, I saw that the corset had pulled in my waist to tiny proportions.

'You'll have to wear that with the skirt I've just bought you, my dear, I think that will be most suitable.'

'But it's so....so uncomfortable!' I protested.

'You have to suffer to be beautiful,' said Helen, then, to Simone, It's perfect. I'll take it.'

When we were heading home in a taxi, I asked, 'Who is Dita?'

'It's a long story,' said Helen, 'perhaps I'll tell it to you one day.'

I suppose I sulked a little at that response – I had hoped there would be no secrets between us – but I cheered up when Helen told me she was taking me for a pub lunch.

She told me to put on one of the dresses she had just bought me, a silky, green, mid-thigh-length button through.

'Just white stockings and a garter belt with that, I think, and those sandals with the metal heels.'

I got many a hungry look from men already seated at tables in the pub, as we threaded our way through to a corner table After we had eaten, as we sat nursing our coffees, Helen nodded towards a young couple sitting at a table just across from us. They were holding hands, but the good-looking guy had kept shooting glances in my direction all the time we had been there.

'Show him your cunt,' said Helen, quietly.

I looked at her aghast. 'But.....but....'

'Do it!' she rapped, and I hesitantly turned around in my seat, just enough so that my legs were towards the guy, who surreptitiously pretended to attend to his shoelace. His girlfriend looked blissfully unaware, and was reading the ice-cream menu as I pulled up the hem of my dress, uncovering the lace tops of my long white stockings, then parted my legs jut enough to give him a brief glimpse of my shaven pussy.

'Right, let's go!' said Helen, and led me out, leaving a twenty pound note on the table, and the young guy turned to watch us walk out, his jaw dropping in astonishment.

'Poor man!' I said.

'He'll take it out on her,' said Helen, as we walked home, and laughed. Then she became serious. 'You'll have to learn to obey me without question, Sara. I think your behaviour merits a little punishment. I think I should introduce you to the whip.'

'Oh no, mistress, please!' I could scarcely believe what my ears were hearing. She was proposing to actually whip me! Now was surely the time to make a run for it – to leave behind this crazy life I seemed to be getting into, flee my job, this city, everything. So why wasn't I going? I looked across at Helen, her long black hair now swirled up in a French twist, her tight leather skirt immaculate over black seamed stockings and patent heels, as she walked elegantly along, and I knew, knew instantly. I would let my mistress do to me whatever she wished!

'Yes, better sooner than later,' she said smiling, and taking my hand in hers. It was as if she had suggested going to the pictures.

'Now,' she said, when we got home, 'go to your room and rest for an hour. I'll call you when I'm ready.'

It was warm in the house, so I lay down naked on top of the bed, and fell asleep immediately.

What seemed like a couple of minutes later, I awoke to find my mistress sitting beside me, her long hair, now loose, brushing my shoulder as she leant over me. She wore a transparent long black gown, under which I could see a lacy black half bra and matching panties – clearly the 'no panties' rule didn't apply to her!

'Come, darling,' she said gently, 'it's time.'

I reached for my robe, which hung over the end of the bed.

'No, you won't be needing that.'

Meekly, I followed my mistress into the lounge, and stood while she took two small Renoir prints down from the wall. They had concealed two sturdy ring-bolts, over a metre apart. Then she pulled out a long box from under the sofa. When she took off the lid, I saw that it contained a lot of things. She took out two sets of handcuffs, and snapped one of each pair onto my wrists. Then she took out a thick metal bar about a metre long, with leather straps at each end.

'A spreader-bar,' she explained, 'though it's not really necessary just now.'

She led me to the wall and told me to face it, then cuffed my wrists to the ring-bolts. I was shaking with terror, not improved when she forced my feet apart, and buckled the straps of the spreader-bar around my ankles, rendering me quite helpless, naked and spreadeagled. Over my shoulder I watched her take a long, thin leather riding crop from the box. She came slowly up behind me, and, in spite of my plight, I thought she looked magnificent, her slender body sheathed by the black, transparent material, black hair cascading over her shoulders.

'Sara,' she said, 'You know that I am going to hurt you, don't you, darling?'

'Yes, mistress.'

'It's important that you ask me to do it.'

I looked at her incomprehendingly.

'I must hear you say it.'

'Do it, then,' I heard myself say, hoarsely.

'Do what?'

I understood what she required of me. It was a kind of ritual. 'Whip me, mistress, please.' There, I had said it, said words I never thought to hear come from my mouth.

She lifted my long hair over my shoulder, so that it fell down across my breast, then stood back. I heard a terrible whistling noise as the crop flew through the air – it was a practice swing. But the next great swish was followed by an agonising stinging sensation as the thin leather thong fell across my shoulder-blades. I writhed in my bonds, but it was useless, and the second stroke was already on its way, making a searing 'crack' as it scored my tender flesh just below the first one. I gasped with the awful pain. The third cruel blow snaked around my flank, so that, looking down, I could see the end of the red welt it had raised on my skin. As her strokes lashed me lower and lower, the pain seemed to get worse, and my moans turned to screams as the agony became near-unbearable. But something was happening to me, and when I looked beseechingly over my shoulder as my mistress prepared to bring all her strength to bear on another fearful stroke over my buttocks, it was a mixture of pain and desire that she must have seen in my eyes, because she paused, and slipped her hand between my legs.

'Oh my, you are really wet, my darling. Just two more strokes, and you can cum if you want.'

She lashed my buttocks mercilessly, but the pain for me was almost lost as the most cataclysmic orgasm I had ever known swept through me, causing me to shudder violently, and scream loudly.

'Just as well we have no neighbours at the moment,' said Helen.

As she undid my bonds, I kissed her, and we remained in an embrace for a long time, before she went to find some soothing lotion to rub into the wounds she had caused. When I looked at the welts in the mirror, I saw that they were quite superficial, and would soon fade. As my mistress (how easy it was now to regard her as such) tended my welts, she told me about Dita, who had been her last slave. In those days, she had lived in big house near Hampstead Heath, and had a maid. Dita, who was an Indian girl, had, unbeknown to Helen, fallen in love with the maid, and the two had conspired to rob her of a great deal of money and all her jewellery – then they had disappeared together. That was why, she said, he now lived in this 'modest house.' Not so modest, I thought, but I thought it a sad story, and determined to be nice to Helen for as long as she wanted me.

She must have read my mind, because she said, 'I know I'm vulnerable, Sara, but I don't think you'll let me down, will you?'

'No mistress, I won't.'

'I believe you my dear. Now, just to set the record straight, I prefer to sleep alone normally, so we'll keep to our separate rooms, but I should like to visit you for a time tonight, if you don't mind?'

I must have looked incredulous – my mistress, who had just whipped me brutally, was asking permission to come to my room!

She had the grace to laugh. 'Yes, it sounds odd, I know, but we must preserve some respect, I think.'

After dinner, I found myself very tired, and soon took myself off to bed, where I slid naked between the sheets. Some while later, whilst I was half asleep, I heard my door open, and in came my mistress, wearing a fabulous silk and lace nightdress. I had already noted that she never seemed to go naked. She got into bed with me, and went immediately to my pussy, where her tongue soon got to work, lapping the length of my crack. I wriggled around until I could lift the lace hem of her nightgown, and return the compliment. By way of an experiment, I stuck my tongue in the very portals of her anus, wiggling my stud around as deep into her as I could get. She moaned deeply, and went directly for my own tender back passage. When I replaced my tongue with two fingers, plunging them way down into her velvet tunnel, she screamed, and yelled, 'Oh Sara, yes, yes, yeees!' Almost immediately she came, a heaving, convulsive climax which probably came from an accumulation of the day's excitement. For my part, I was too exhausted to cum once more.

We lay together, and my mistress whispered her promises and hopes to me. How I should always be prettily dressed, but for a change she would dress me in corset and restraint clothing, so all the world would see how much I would like to suffer. How she would give me 'toys' to use and wear, that would keep me excited all day. How she would take me to parties, and loan me to her friends – only the prettiest ones though! How she would help me understand and accept pain, and show me different forms of punishment I should crave and beg for. There were more things – some that I didn't understand, but just hearing my mistress pouring out her love for me was enough.

After she went back to her room, I lay quietly. I had come a long way since I had left home, and had at last found my way into my own true world, the Lesbian world, and had taken a couple of steps up the ladder – my Silken Ladder.