Sara's Silken Ladder Ch. 03

'Is this Sara?'

'Yes, Kirsty,' I said, a slight quaver in my voice, 'it's me.'

'I tracked you down through Bea,' she said, then there was a longish pause, which I eventually ended by asking rather lamely how she was.

'Fine, I guess,' she said, 'my ass was sore for a few days, you know.'

'I can imagine.'

'Look, can we meet?'

I was trembling by now. Can we meet? Could I wait however long it was to be before we did?

'Why, yes, why not?' There were plenty of reasons why not -- not the least of them being my commitment to Helen. But, hell, I wanted to meet with Kirsty more, I think, than I had ever wanted anything. But I didn't really know why!

I knew Helen had a departmental meeting the next day, so arranged to meet Kirsty for lunch.

Nervous as a kitten the next morning, I hoped it didn't show. I also regretted that I couldn't meet Kirsty wearing anything other than my store uniform -- it would have been nice to wear something beautiful. However, I took great care with my make-up, and brushed my hair out until it shone, just as soon as Helen had gone off to her meeting.

I walked around to the wine bar I had arranged to meet Kirsty in. She was already there, nursing a large glass of Merlot. I had the chance to look at her in profile for a few moments before going up to her. God, she was fantastic! Her thick mane of straight brown hair hung down her back -- I wondered if she actually sat on it. She wore a brown silk blouse that didn't come from any shop I could afford to patronise, and big gold hoops peeped out from the hair that framed her beautiful face. Her pert little nose sported a tiny diamond stud.

When I slid into the booth opposite her, a lovely smile lit up her face, and I saw for the first time that a little diamond was set into one of her even, white, front teeth.

After we had passed the time of day, I asked her, probably indelicately, how her arse was. She laughed, a pretty, tinkling laugh.

'My ass was sore as hell for a week, now it's healing some.'

'I was so excited, watching,' I told her, and she looked at me curiously, from under long, sexy eyelashes.

'I guess I just love.....well, you know,' she said lamely, then went on, 'It's about that I wanted to talk to you.'

'Oh?'

'I wondered if you could have a word with Simone for me. You are the only person I've met here who I feel I can ask. I want to know if she'll take me as her slave -- you know, like you are with Helen.'

I was a bit disappointed. I had entertained hopes that she wanted simply to meet me, though I didn't know what I really wanted from her, but then, as Helen and Simone were close friends -- lovers even, I suspected - here could be a chance to see more of Kirsty?

I agreed to have a word on her behalf. When we stood up to leave, I glanced at Kirsty, taking in her long, bare legs, white flared tennis skirt, and high metal-heeled strappy sandals. When we kissed to go our separate ways, and I was assaulted by her Guerlain perfume, I couldn't resist saying, 'You are so beautiful, Kirsty!'

Was it my imagination, or did she give my hand an extra squeeze as we parted?

Back at the store, I told Helen about Kirsty's request -- she remembered the girl she had caned - and she immediately rang Simone, who said she would be delighted to take on Kirsty. I passed on the mobile number the American girl had given me. Only an hour later, Kirsty rang to thank me, saying that Simone had called her, and she was to move in that very evening.

'I hope you won't regret it,' I said, 'she can be terribly cruel, I think.'

'I sure hope so!' she replied, but I had some misgivings when I rang off. I had effectively delivered Kirsty to Simone, when I had to admit I should have preferred to keep her for myself. There, I had let my thoughts have free rein, at last! But events were about to unfold which would lead to a big change in my life.

A couple of days went by, and then my mistress announced that she had invited Simone to our apartment for dinner on Friday evening, two days hence. I just assumed she would bring Kirsty, but didn't know how I would react to meeting her, now that she was Simone's slave.

I helped Helen get ready for the dinner, preparing much of the food, while she scurried about cleaning -- she said, rightly, I thought, that it was impossible to match Simone's house with our flat.

When Friday evening arrived, my mistress made sure I dressed in the manner she required -- she had plumped for 'restraint' style, and laced me into my white corset so tightly that it made me gasp. I cinched on a pair of long white stockings, then stepped into a pencil-skirt, also very tight, and slipped on a blouse of the finest organdie, through which my nipples jutted above the lace top of the corset. As a pièce de resistance Helen insisted on my wearing silver nipple-clamps -- I was in for an acutely uncomfortable evening, right down to the ultra-high platform shoes she had me wear.

My mistress herself wore a silk jersey sheath, which moulded her voluptuous curves to perfection, and had a deep cutout, revealing her long, slender back. I told her she looked gorgeous.

When the doorbell rang, I could hardly wait to see Kirsty again. But she was getting something out of the car, explained Simone, as she swept in, in a cloud of Rochas. She looked fantastic, in a long pale green satin gown, open right down to her waist in front.

I stood by the door, awaiting Kirsty, and she soon put in an appearance, wearing a short, halter-neck pleated red dress in some filmy material, which was deliciously loose, so that her body seemed to move more sensuously than ever. Her long hair was swept up in an elaborate style. But she looked so unhappy -- almost about to burst into tears, I thought. I closed the door behind her, and followed her into the lounge. It was then that I saw. Her back wasn't simply welted -- it was raw -- completely covered in enormous red sores, where she must have been whipped practically beyond endurance. My own back having been whipped several times now, I knew the stinging lash very well, but my mistress would never do me anything like permanent damage -- and Kirsty's wounds would be with her for a very long time. I was aghast.

'She went way over the top!' I whispered to her, as we walked through the passageway.

'Yes, Sara,' she said sadly, turning briefly so that I could see tears threatening to come.

Over dinner, the conversation was inconsequential -- the prices in the shops, a forthcoming election, weather, stuff like that, but then Simone said she admired Helen's dress, and Helen took her into her room to show her some others she had acquired -- she was often able to pick up great bargains at the store, and, I suspected 'came by' a few things in a more nefarious manner.

Kirsty leaned over the table to speak to me, and my heart went out to her when I saw the sadness in her beautiful face. I covered her slim hand with mine, the decoration in my pinky laying across her fingers.

'I made a terrible mistake,' she said.

'And its my fault, Kirsty.'

'No, no! I'm a big girl, Sara.' She tried for a smile, but it refused to reach her eyes, which were still brimming with held-back tears. Then her manner became earnest, and I looked around to make sure we were still alone. The sound of laughter came from Helen's bedroom.

'Will you come away with me?' asked Kirsty, and her lower lip was trembling as she spoke.

'I...I...I'd love to, but...'

'Yes, I know, you're loyal to Helen. It's OK -- forget I asked,' she said. At that moment, Helen and Simone came back into the dining room.

'I've agreed to take Simone to the store in the morning,' said Helen, 'she wants to see some clothes. I can only take one person in on our day off, so you are free to do what you like, darling.'

That night, in bed, I pondered what Kirsty had said. Would I go away with her? Would I? I needed to know more, but I knew that Kirsty was special, that I wanted to be with her more than anything in the world.

As soon as my mistress was out, in the morning, and I heard the door close behind her, I called Simone's house. The maid, Chi, answered. Putting on a northern accent, I asked for Kirsty. Something made me wary.

Kirsty came to the phone.

'You know what you asked me last night? Did you mean it?'

'Of course. I meant it, but I quite understand that you can't....'

I cut her off. 'Where would we go? How would we live?'

'You mean you're interested?' She sounded suddenly breathless. Then in a torrent: 'My father has a house in Spain he never uses, and money isn't a problem. Oh, darling, tell me you'll come. You don't need to bring anything. Do come, do!'

Four hours later, we were stood in Easyjet's check-out queue at Gatwick airport, my pathetically few belongings beside me in a holdall I had 'borrowed' from Helen, Kirsty ready to check in a small suitcase. We held hands nervously and I contemplated the enormity of what I had done. I had left not only my job, but my mistress, who had always been kind to me, and her nice home. And for what? The unknown! Then I looked across at Kirsty's lovely face, and knew. Together, we would be more than good. The future looked exciting.