The Players

Didi said nothing, but stood up, bright-eyed and eager to please her mistress. She brandished a crook handled school cane, not an easy implement to wield effectively, concentrated hard, and practised a stroke. A breathtakingly deep whooshing sound reverberated around the room's hard furnishings.

"So Quentina, my pretty one, it is decided. Over the chair you must go, raise your skirt, and down your panties. Karla, you sweet thing, come kneel here before me. Your Goddess has worldly needs that must be attended to."

Karla and Quentina exchanged a brief glance. There was a hint of a wink from Quentina. Karla acknowledged it. Karla would actually have been more than happy to accept a flogging - a lifetime of faking one had left him desperately unfulfilled. But now there was a fresh challenge. Clearly, Xienna was expecting him to perform cunnilingus for her. He could hardly refuse, though his experience in the art was probably a good deal less than the woman may have imagined. He had read about it. He had dabbled in it during his one doomed marriage, and watched porn containing it. But there is a big difference between theory and practice. Still kneeling, he wetted his lips and concentrated on his target, a target fairly difficult to miss - Xienna had hitched up her skirt and opened her legs wide. Really wide. Karla focussed on the mass of black curly hair almost obliterating a fleshy mons pubis, vulva and cavernous outer labia. He took a deep breath and crawled on all fours the final yard to his objective. Perversely, his main worry was that he would lose Quentina's loopy earrings in the process.

"How many stroke?" the enthusiastic Didi asked, turning towards her Mistress for instruction.

"Let's begin with twenty of your very best, my lovely sweetheart. Stop if the sinful Quentina asks for mercy, which I know she won't."

Mistress returned her attention to the kneeling Karla, who was anxious to prove her worth, and was concentrating on the task ahead.

"Mmmm..." Mistress Xienna exclaimed, confident that all players were ready and up to speed. "Now let's party!!!"

The sound of rattan landing at high speed across Quentina's fleshy white bottom cheeks suddenly rekindled the sexual pang that Keith had experienced years previously when awaiting his own appointment with a thrash-and-dash lady in the city. On that occasion, he had selected a cute French maid's outfit, mob cap and heels, to present himself for punishment when his time was due. But he had over-indulged in fetishistic contact with his costume and was already highly aroused. Another client was being 'entertained' in the neighbouring room. The walls were thin, and Keith could count the heavy blows. His appointment time duly arrived, but his premature ejaculation ruined the scene before it got going. But now, things were going to be different. He hoped.

Karla brushed her mouth over Mistress's mound, jutting to and fro to deliver powerful kisses prior to rolling her tongue and making darting sorties inside plump juicy pussy lips. Locating a dominatrix's clitoris was a rare challenge. But thankfully, the layout of a dominatrix's sexual apparatus is no different to any other woman. Still, Karla needed to concentrate hard - the sounds of Quentina's heavy caning from the athletic Didi accompanied the overpowering odour of Mistress's pheromones, mingled with French perfume and the smell of new leather from her skirt. It comprised a heady cocktail almost too intoxicating to withstand. However, Karla managed to complete the task, give the entrance to Mistress's vagina one more thorough tonguing and then withdraw, detecting satisfied moans and groans from our over-sexed over-weight dissolute, though irresistible, sexual predator.

The female person thereby described rose from her throne, beckoned Karla to take her place, then walked ceremoniously over to where Justina was still dutifully assuming the punishment position. Mistress laid a soothing hand on Quentina's beautifully striped bottom, then proceeded to clip a collar and leash around his neck, straighten his skirt, and lead him back to the throne where Karla was now holding sway.

"Now your turn, Karla sweetie," Mistress calmly announced. "Quentina is going to kneel and worship our new guest queen for the day in the unique style that only Quentina has perfected. Is that right, my precious?"

"Of course, Goddess," Quentina replied. "Would our beautiful queen for the day kindly raise her lovely dress and lower her panties a little?"

"Yes, it is such a beautiful silky dress," added Mistress Xienna. "And a gorgeous floral print. Karla has such impeccable taste."

"Indeed, Goddess," Quentina concurred.

Karla was almost in one of her dream worlds. But this scenario was for real, and her lips, still sticky after trading lipstick kisses with Quentina in the dressing room, and mopping up Mistress Xienna's deliciously pungent excess cunt juice, were now beginning to feel dry with anticipation. Karla nudged down her panties, rueing not taking Quentina's earlier advice to wear panties over everything, or not at all.

Quentina set to work, kneeling beside Karla's legs and stooping to rain gentle kisses on a semi-flaccid penis already exhibiting signs of leaking seminal fluid. A hand very gently kneaded Karla's ball sac. Karla gasped. The head of his very average shlong seemed to swell disproportionately, and the rest of the shaft gradually stiffened. Quentina stooped lower and inserted the nicely aroused cock into his mouth, immediately putting to use a thirsty tongue, eager to lick around a smooth throbbing glans. Before long, Karla started to edge. The fellatio-experienced Quentina recognised the signs, and tightening the grip on Karla's testicles, sucked vigorously, confident that an explosion of love-juice was imminent. Tissues were at the ready. Quentina was not a swallower. Karla came. Big time. Oh yes.

4.

"Do anything last night?" George asked at work the following morning.

"Not really," Keith replied. "Round a friend's house for a couple of drinks. Watched a bit of tele. That's all."

"Sounds really exciting, NOT," said Peter, the office know-all. "You need to get out more, Keith. Put yourself about a bit."

Keith smiled. So did Karla.

Five o'clock came and Keith hurried home to his bed-sit. After the frenetic events of the previous evening, he was looking forward to a quiet night in - where he could perhaps experiment with different clothes combinations and watch a bit of porn. He turned his key in the door, but before completing the procedure, the door swung open. Had he failed to set the catch securely when he left home that morning? Worrying more than a little, he entered gingerly, hoping not to find his rooms ransacked. Happily, everything was in order and how he left it. Except for one thing.

"You finally return," the young woman said. It was Didi, dressed to thrill in heeled calf-boots, vinyl leggings and a black wet-look top under a fluffy cream jacket. "I bring you back shopping bag you left last night. It has dress in it, and some make-up items. Careless of you, Tut tut."

"Oh dear. Oh dear. What an idiot I am. Perhaps I was too drunk after the glass of wine. But Didi - you didn't have to come all this way. I could have collected it myself. But you are an angel. Thank you so much, and sorry I put you to all this trouble. But how on earth did you get in? I keep the only key with me."

"See?" she replied. "Didi not so dumb. Didi pick lock. Easy. Father teach Didi back in Romania."

"Wow. Incredible." Keith was genuinely impressed. "Was he a locksmith?"

"No. Father a criminal. He in prison."

Keith wasn't sure if 'sorry to hear that' was an appropriate response or not, so he just said "Oh dear," his thoughts wandering to what might have now gone missing.

As if to read his mind, the girl elaborated. "I take good look round your rooms. Don't worry - Didi not a thief. Didi find very interesting item from bedside cabinet." She bent sideways, with one fist turned-over and resting on the elevated hip. It was that classical pose of a female disciplinarian. What sent Keith's blood racing even faster, was that in her other hand, she held high Keith's personal hither-to unused traditional style French martinet flogger. She wetted her lips provocatively and stared at him. Open-mouthed, Keith could offer no sensible response.

"Didi have plan," she stated. Keith was so glad to hear it, because he was, by now, all out of plans. "You take Didi out to nice pizza restaurant, then we come back here and we have some fun... with this." She stroked the whip as she spoke. "Then we make love. Maybe. If your pain is not too much."

It was a good plan. Keith would maybe have enjoyed his meal a little more if butterflies in his tummy had been less jittery about Didi's intentions. He recalled the ugly red and purple welts across Quentin's backside, trying to push that mental image to the back of his mind.

"Dinner nice. You sweet boy. Didi must go now." They were back at Keith's bed-sit. Keith was a little disappointed but not surprised that she had reneged on her earlier promise. At least he could stop worrying about the torment he had let himself in for.

"But one thing," she said. "Before I go, you must show Didi how clever home-made leg spreader thing work."

Keith was more than happy that someone, at least, was able to appreciate his innovative design. The girl certainly had made a thorough reconnoitre of his bondage accessories. "Well," he began. "You sit up, slip this strap round one ankle, and tighten that clasp..."

"No. wait," Didi interrupted. "Difficult how lady manage with tight dress, say, or wearing stuff not stretchy. You put on Karla dress. It still in shopping bag getting crumbled. Nice and loose. Leave off undies. Please for Didi. Pretty please. Didi powder nose."

Keith was now at a confused stage where he simply succumbed to all the young lady's whims and suggestions. While she was in the bathroom, he dutifully did what he was told, and once again morphed into Karla. The silky soft polyester material was immune to creasing. It was invigorating against his bare skin.

Didi wasted no time cuffing Karla's wrists to the bed's headposts. Fitting the leg-spreader was similarly straightforward. Didi slowly trailed the flogger tails down the length of Karla's body, over her face, down between non-existent boobs, and over her tummy. "Mmmm... nice," Karla whispered.

The girl's response was immediately to secure the ball gag on Karla's mouth, and around the neck, locking it on the tightest setting. "Don't want neighbours hear crying," she whispered.

The first wave of lashes rained down on Karla's chest - a token tit flogging. The dress material absorbed most of the impact. For the second phase, the fit young lady raised the spreader bar. The lower dress slid upwards, exposing almost all Karla's bare lower body. Heavy lashes rained down on every square inch of Karla's torso that was accessible, and particularly her lilywhite bottom cheeks. Protest was futile, the ball-gag seeing to that. Finally, the transverse flogging action altered to a longitudinal one, whereby Karla's vulnerable exposed genitalia came in for long-overdue harsh punishment courtesy of the whip's exquisite twelve leather tails. A penis which had been exhibiting signs of arousal for some time, was soon looking just a little sorry for itself. But Didi was unfazed. She relieved herself of her knickers and climbed onto the bed, settling herself astride the whimpering body of her playmate. She managed to coax some life back into Karla's flaccid tool, mainly by kneading sad aching testicles in her pretty manicured girlie hands. And lastly, she managed to ease the swelling glans between her labia and up towards her vagina. She then started to bounce, gently at first. She leaned over towards Karla's face. "There," she whispered. "Nice young girl juicy pussy. Better than ugly gob of Quentina, yes?"

Karla, under a certain amount of duress, noddingly concurred, given the constriction of the ball gag. The nice young girl's juicy pussy was undeniably the ideal sheath for a male penis. And Didi's vigorous pelvic thrusting was incomparably the best means of milking the seed from even the most stressed-out of subjugated lovers. The enigmatic blonde dressed herself, released one of Karla's wrist cuffs, and blowing a kiss, strode out and homeward, wherever that was.

Reverting back from Karla to Keith, the exhausted participant in Didi's playtime activities used his free hand to release his other hand and the wonderful home-made leg-spreader. His body still smarting from the vigorous whipping, he stopped short of putting back on t-shirt and jeans. Instead, acutely aware of the dramatic development of his closeted lifestyle, he stood before the mirror and admired, for one more time, just how gorgeous Karla looked in a new floral print polyester dress with bishop sleeves and ribbed cuffs.

Mmmm...