Mistaken Identity

Sue rolled over, as far as she could in the tight confines of the cage. A pale glow came from the windows where dawn was slowly rising. Actually what Sue was seeing were the carefully orchestrated lighting effects that resulted from Ruth running the controlling computer through the 'dawn' program. Netted curtains and back projection worked together to reinforce the illusion that this was a real suite of rooms and not just an elaborate set.

Sue had actually slept quite well. Apart from a need to pee and growing thirst for coffee, she was feeling pretty good. From the bed there came a susurration as the Countess and Trixie snored gently. Quietly Sue tested the bars of the cage, looking for weaknesses, but they were solidly fixed and more than proof against her efforts. The feeding hatch looked like it might be a point of weakness but, when she checked, it was securely locked. However, she didn't give up, but managed to roll over far enough to try the hatch in the roof of the cage as well. That too was shut fast. She wasn't surprised; right from the start her captors had shown a ruthless professionalism and had never once shown any weakness.

She fought back the wave of depression, which threatened to overcome her. Ruthless professionalism or not, Sue Brown was no fool and, when the time was right, she would make her move. As the cage clearly showed, it would be foolish to think that opportunities to escape would come easily or often. She would have to bide her time and wait until the moment was right. This being the case, for now she needed to develop a coping strategy. At the core of this would be her relationship with the Countess and, in the end, it would all be about trust. An untrusting Countess would be extra vigilant and opportunities would therefore be scarcer. In order to get the Countess to drop her guard, she would have to appear to be embracing this new lifestyle, to be actually revelling in these humiliations and degradations. After all, Trixie, who appeared to be just as much of a slave as she was, seemed to enjoy a certain amount of freedom.

And there were other motivators in play as well. The Countess's threat that failure to please would result in her being sold to another owner was another reason to fall into line. Much as she didn't relish the thought of becoming the Countess's sexual plaything, it would seem to be the best choice she had had so far. She certainly didn't relish being some sort of human pony in Herr Otto's racing stables, and acting as some kind or whore for Walter's farm hands was equally unappealing. These were just the options she had heard of; who knows what else other 'owners' would have her be or do. In a world where human beings were sold for cash, where she had become a commodity rather than as person, there could be few limits. For the moment at least it was a case of 'better the devil you know'; after all, hadn't Trixie described the Countess as a 'good' owner?

Sue's need to pee was getting worse; she wished that Trixie hadn't forced her to drink so deeply last night as now she was paying the price. To alleviate the cramps she clamped her hands between her thighs. She wondered how long she would have to hold out; the thought of failing to do so was appalling. Not only was she averse to lying in a pool of her own urine, she didn't want to face the Countess's wrath if she were to 'spoil her bedding'. As she fought back the urge to pee her wrist pushed against her and it was odd to feel the shaven skin of her mons. She had often wondered what it would be like to have a 'full Brazilian'. Now she knew. And, truth be told, this was one of many features of her new life, which played straight into her Rudolf Valentino fantasies. To be sure, they had never featured a woman as her captor and, in her dreams, she would have been the one sleeping in the bed, not Trixie, but the loss of freedom, the 'used and then thrown away' aspects, even, whisper it quietly, the cage, were striking chords within her.

She heard rustling sounds coming from the bed. the Countess and Trixie were waking up. There was a quiet muttering and then Trixie got out of bed and headed for the en-suite. Apparently Sue wasn't the only one who needed to pee.  When Trixie returned she went past the cage and, as she did so, she glanced down and saw Sue, and, more pertinently, saw the way she had her hands between her thighs. Sue, mindful of the rule of silence, mimed her urgency.

"Excuse me, Countess," Trixie called out, "I believe Rosalita also needs the bathroom."

"Well, she'll have to wait. I don't want to have anything to do with her until after breakfast," the Countess replied.

"I'm not sure she can," Trixie said and Sue nodded to reinforce this.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" the Countess called out in exasperation. "Just leave her.... No, on second thoughts she'll only wet herself and make the room unpleasant. Give her a diaper, you know what to do."

Sue was a bit confused by the word 'diaper'. Wasn't that the American word for... and then she saw Trixie getting a square of white towelling from a chest of drawers and her suspicions were confirmed. Diaper was, indeed, the American word for nappy. Trixie laid the nappy out on the top of the chest of drawers and folded it, exactly as if it were for a baby. However, before she fitted it, she went to a drawer under the bed and fetched out two pieces of wood. She then unfastened and removed the feeding hatch part of the cage and, for a moment, there was a gap big enough for Sue to crawl through. However, almost immediately, half the gap was filled with one of the pieces of wood, which, as Sue could now clearly see, had three semicircular dips along the top. Her heart sank as Trixie  gestured that she should place her neck in the central dip and her hands in the other two. Remembering her resolve not to fight until the time was right, Sue complied and, as she did so, she felt the other piece of wood being fitted so she was trapped as if in the stocks.

The holes for the wrists were quite generous and Sue would have had no trouble removing her hands but Trixie fetched from the drawer under the bed a set of thick rubber wrist cuffs with a chain linking them together and, once these were fitted, Sue's hands were trapped.

With Sue now fixed to her satisfaction Trixie picked up the nappy, went to the other end of the cage, opened the door, reached in and, after a certain amount of fumbling, fitted the towelling around Sue. It was a tight and awkward manoeuvre in the narrow confines of the cage but it wasn't long before Sue's nether regions were swaddled in the soft towelling with two oversized safety pins holding the whole thing fast. The bulky material was bunched up between her legs which forced her to kneel with her knees apart and the position of the stocks mean that she had to kneel up. With the towelling fitted Trixie went back to the chest of drawers and this time returned with a pair of plastic panties which, except for the size, were exactly as would be fitted on a baby. These were even more awkward to fit but it wasn't long before they were in place and Trixie could withdraw. Sue could just imagine how ridiculous she must look, how degrading, how demeaning, she must appear. She felt like some sort of veal calf, confined and unable to move. That on its own was bad enough but when you added in the nappy, her humiliation was complete.

And then, of course, there was the vexed question as to whether she was going to allow herself to pee or not. The stubborn streak within her resisted, not to mention her reluctance to spend any more time than strictly necessary wearing a damp nappy. On the other hand, she really needed to go and holding it back was agony. For the moment the stubborn streak was winning but the clock was ticking and she wasn't sure how long she could hold out. In the meanwhile, she wished she could cross her legs or, at least, clamp them together but the nappy prevented this.

With Sue now secured, the Countess ordered Trixie to go and fetch breakfast. Sue watched as Trixie headed for the door and wondered whether this breakfast might include the coffee she so craved. However, she wasn't getting her hopes up.

Once out of the suite Angela put on the dressing gown, which hung on a hook just outside the door and headed for the staffroom where she found Gill already busy putting breakfast together in the kitchen area. Ruth, over in one corner, with the inevitable coffee cup on the desk in front of her, was keeping an watch on the CCTV and making sure all the systems ran smoothly.

"That was some show you and Fiona put on for the client last night," Gill joked as she warmed up the croissants.

"Gotta keep it looking real," Angela joked back. "Talking of which, I've never seen a client so deep into role. Usually there's some sign that they know that it's all an act but this one...."

"Yeah, I had that when I was getting her ready for auction," Gill added. "Either she's really letting herself believe or she's the best actress ever."

"Well, she's certainly getting what she signed up for. We're not doing anything to her that isn't on the script. Even so, you should have seen her face when I put her in the stocks. She didn't seem very happy even if she is getting off on it."

"And is she?"

"Well, she seems to be. I mean, she's not making that much fuss and you saw how easily she came when she was on the auction post. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about there; she was hot and ready to trot long before I got to her.  And then, last night, OK, so she wasn't allowed to come but talk about sensuous. If she wasn't getting off on going down on me then you could have fooled me; she was definitely giving it her all."

"So we saw," Gill laughed.

And, with that, the microwave pinged and the croissants were ready. Gill took them out and put them on the trolley along with a large pot of hot coffee, a selection of fresh fruit, some Greek yoghurt and all the trimmings. However, these were prepared for the Countess and Trixie; for Sue there was simply a dog's bowl and a jug of water.

"Thank you kindly, ma'am," Angela quipped and, with a swing to her hips, she made her way back to the suite.

As Angela, once more divested of her dressing gown and back in role as Trixie, pushed the trolley into the suite, the smell of fresh Kenyan peaberry AA wafted from the coffee pot. From Sue's perspective, this was almost the worst torture yet. Trixie left the trolley in the centre of the room, poured out a generous cup of coffee and took it over to the Countess who complained haughtily that there should have been Venezuelan coffee available. Sue heard them discussing the breakfast options and the Countess decided on some fresh grapefruit and a couple of croissants. Trixie went back to the trolley to get this together and then laid it all out on a tray and took it over to the bed.

Then she went over to the end of the cage where Sue's head and hands were protruding. She fetched from the drawer under the bed another piece of wood and this slotted into the 'stocks' so as to form a shelf just under Sue's chin. With this in place Trixie fetched from the trolley the dog's bowl and water jug. As she returned Sue looked up at her and mouthed the word 'coffee' but Trixie just smiled and shook her head. She placed the bowl on the shelf so that Sue, by leaning her head forward, could dip her mouth in it. Then she took the water jug and filled the bowl to the rim.

"Make sure you drink it all up," she said. "The Countess gets most cross if slaves don't eat or drink what is provided for them."

And, with that, Trixie went back to the other side of the bed and Sue could no longer see her.

Sue's resolve to play at being a well-behaved 'slave' was being pushed to the limit. She wanted out of these damn stocks, she wanted a cup of morning coffee and, above all else, she wanted to pee. She hated the nappy, hated the whole idea of it but, well, it had been fitted for a purpose and she was close to the point where she would have no choice in the matter. With an internal sigh she decided she couldn't hold back any longer and, once she started she couldn't stop. The sense of relief flowed through her just as the warm damp sensation flowed around her groin. The towelling could only absorb so much and, by the time the flow slowed to a trickle, the nappy was sodden between her legs and she could feel a certain amount oozing down the inside of her thighs. Quite frankly she didn't care. Her dignity had long been taken from her; she had no pride left and she just did what she had to do. She leant her head forward and drank from the bowl. It might not have been coffee but it tasted delicious.

And then it was back to waiting. It would appear that the Countess and Trixie were in no hurry to finish their breakfast. Sue, mindful of Trixie's warning that the Countess would be cross if she didn't drink what was given to her, strained her head forward to sip at the water but it was difficult to reach far enough and the bowl was still more than half full.

At last the Countess got out of bed. Aided by Trixie she put on a floor length satin gown that matched her slip and then came over to stand by the cage.

"Trixie, I wish to play with my new toy," she said. "Get her out of the cage."

Trixie came over and unfastened a few bolts but, this time, instead of opening the door at the end of the cage, the whole roof was hinged up. Then it was a simple affair to remove the top half of the stocks and Sue, with her wrists still chained together, was helped to her feet. The door at the end of the cage was opened and Sue, waddling somewhat in her sodden nappy, was led round to stand in front of the Countess.

"Well...." the Countess said in expectation.

For a moment Sue just stood there, uncertain as to what was required of her. The Countess just stood there watching, her face impassive. Sue felt the panic rising within her. She had to do something; what? She remembered the Countess's order that she should be happy and agreeable. Whatever her true feelings she had to appear willing.

"Good morning, Countess," she said, giving a curtsey and hoping she was doing what was required. "How may I brighten your day for you?"

"Oh, we are going to have fun today!" the Countess exclaimed, her face breaking into a smile. "You have so much to learn but we will have so much fun teaching you. Now, first things first; have you been a naughty little Rosalita and wet your nappy?"

"Yes, Countess, I'm sorry, Countess."

"Oh, dear, not a good start to the day. Trixie, sweetie, I think you had best take this one off for a shower. Get her cleaned up and ready."

Trixie led Sue to the en-suite and over to the shower area. She pulled a cord next to the light switch and a hook attached to a chain snaked down out of the ceiling next to the showerhead. She took Sue's wrists and arranged then so that the chain between them was over the hook. Then it was back to a second cord, this time pulling the chain up until Sue was at full stretch. As the rubber cuffs took some of her weight they gripped her wrists tight but weren't too uncomfortable.

Then Trixie removed the plastic panties, the nappy and the belt that Sue still wore and took them all to a laundry chute where they disappeared out of sight. Sue wasn't sorry to see the back of the belt but she wasn't expecting to have her wrists freed any time soon.

Then Trixie turned on the shower and, after a mercifully brief spell of cold water, it ran pleasantly hot. Taking the hair shampoo from the shelf next to the shower she set to work on Sue's hair.

This was the second shower Sue had had since she had been captured and, apart from both being restrained, they could not have been more different. Whereas the auctioneer had been cold, professional, businesslike, Trixie was anything but. The biggest difference was that the auctioneer had been clothed whereas Trixie was naked and, as such, had no problems with getting wet. To shampoo Sue's hair she had to get in close and this illustrated the second difference. The auctioneer had been cold, professional, Trixie, in contrast, was another slave and, as such, required to be 'passionate' for the Countess. As their two naked bodies met under the cascading water, she let the suds slide down between them so that skin could slide against skin and this was as erotic as any shower Sue had shared with any of her boyfriends. Once Trixie had finished with Sue's hair she swapped the shampoo for shower gel and, this time, there was no mistaking her intentions. At first she used her hands to spread liberal amounts of gel all over and then, she used her body, rubbing against Sue in the most sensuous of fashion. Sue glanced over to where the Countess was sat on the edge of the bath, watching intently. Evidently she was enjoying watching her 'slaves' showering together. It seemed to Sue that, as part of playing the willing slave, she should reciprocate and, as Trixie rubbed against her, so she rubbed back, well, as far as her bound wrists would allow her.

And, truth be told, it wasn't all show. Trixie was no amateur and Sue would have had to have been made of stone not to respond. Sue's previous shower partners could have learnt a lot from Trixie and the way she used not just her hands but her whole body to smooth the shower gel over them both. Trixie pushed her groin against Sue's hip so Sue reciprocated by pushing her foot forwards and giving Trixie her thigh to straddle. Trixie upped the tempo and hugged Sue close, using her for support as she slid their bodies against each other and it seemed almost inevitable that they should kiss. As Trixie's tongue plundered Sue's mouth there was an intensity about her passion that was catching and Sue kissed back, just as hard.

Trixie broke from the kiss and Sue, at first, could hardly believe it but, when she realised it was just to reach for more shower gel, just to renew the soapiness between them, she was glad they were going to continue. Now Trixie was holding nothing back, she was like some wild animal desperately rubbing their bodies together, searching out ever higher pleasures. Sue wished that her hands were free, wished that she could respond more; she pushed her foot out farther, as far as it would go, and Trixie rode her thigh for all she was worth, letting her whole weight bear down, pressing herself against Sue's thigh.

"Oh, bravo, little Trixie!" the Countess called out. "What passion, what fervour! How pretty you look, how I wish you were mine! Come for me! Come for me now!"

And come she did. Hanging on to Sue as if her life depended on it she ground her groin into Sue's thigh and, with little animal cries, buried her head in Sue's shoulder. The intensity of it all was pulling on Sue's arms and making the cuffs cut into her wrists but she was so caught up in Trixie's orgasm that she hardly noticed. Finally, with a massive groan, which seemed to come from the very depths of her, Trixie climaxed and, without Sue's support, would have fallen to the floor. For a long, long moment the only sound was the splashing of the shower until, with a little shudder, Trixie relaxed her hug, stood up again and kissed Sue long and hard.

"Oh, bravo again!" the Countess clapped her hands in glee. "Do you see, little Rosalita, do you see how pretty Trixie looks when she comes? When it is your turn to perform do you think you will look as pretty? Will your climax be as pleasing to me?"

Sue wasn't sure whether this question was rhetorical or not but, as she hadn't got a clue how to respond, she left it unanswered. Meanwhile Trixie had finished kissing her and, almost languorously, was finishing off the washing process. This done she reached for the shower controls and turned off the flow.

"You haven't shaved her. Is she smooth?" the Countess asked.

"She's pretty smooth. She was only shaved yesterday but I'll do it again if you want. Do you want to have a feel?"

The Countess came over and ran the tips of her fingers over Sue's mons and then down between her legs, pushing them apart. Idly she toyed with Sue's nether lips, examining them.

"No, that's fine," she commented. "I guess they did a pretty good job when they prepared her for auction. Of course, I'll get her properly waxed when we get back to Venezuela. And, as for this lot," the Countess reached up and tousled Sue's hair where it hung down limply from her head, "this will have to go as well."

"Perhaps you would like me to do that now, Countess?" Trixie asked.

"Would you? Slaves look so much neater with their heads shaved. If you were mine...." the Countess tousled Trixie's hair playfully.

Sue was horrified at the idea of having her head shaved. "Please, Countess," she half whispered.

"What is it, little Rosalita?" the Countess asked. "Is something bothering you?"

"My hair... do you have to cut my hair?"

"Have a care, little Rosalita, have a care. It is not for you to decide how my slaves shall look. You should rejoice that I want to make you pretty."

"Yes, Countess, of course, Countess."

All the while Fiona was watching the client carefully. This was all in the script; head shaving had been specifically requested by the client and, backstage, they had a wig waiting for her to wear when it was all over. However, Fiona was aware that this was a massive step to take and was making sure there were no second thoughts. However, she hadn't heard the safe word, or even the go-slow word so, despite the client's obvious anxiety, she must actually want to follow this through. Fiona decided to give it one more try.

"So, little Rosalita, when I say that I want your head shaven, what do you reply?"

Sue remembered her resolve to appear compliant and fought back the tears that were threatening to start.

"Please, Countess, it is my delight to be however you want me," she said. "Forgive my nervousness; I am so new to servitude."

"Then you had best learn quickly. My patience will not last forever. Show me that you're happy; give me a smile, that's better. Now put your head back, come along, all the way back. Let Trixie do her work.

While Sue and the Countess had been talking, Trixie had fetched scissors and a small kick stool, which she placed behind Sue. Trixie got up on the kick stool and Sue felt her first combing out and then cutting off her still damp hair. Then, when the scissors could do no more, Trixie swapped them for the razor and shaving foam. While this was going on the Countess stood in front of Sue, reached down and fondled her sex. In some ways this was the most surreal it had been since she had been captured. She could hardly imagine anything more bizarre than dangling by her wrists whilst her head was being shaved and her 'owner's' fingers played with her pussy. And, to add to the unreality, she could feel herself responding. It wasn't just the Countess's fingers; far more it was about the way she was, once again, being 'prepared'. Something as drastic as having her head shaved really brought home how she was a possession, a plaything, a toy, and, whether she liked it or not, something deep in her psyche  loved every minute.  The feeling as the razor slid over her scalp was fuelling the fire within every bit as much as the Countess's fingers playing in her pussy. Each stroke of the blade, every strand of hair removed, seemed to strip her a little more bare, to take away one more of her defences. She had never in her life felt so naked; she had never in her life been so naked. Part of her wanted to cry out "Take me, just take me. Why don't you take me?"

And then, suddenly and all too soon, it was done. Trixie put down the razor, unclipped the showerhead and used it to rinse off Sue's scalp. Now that it was over, Sue leant her head forward to keep the water out of her eyes and, as she looked down, she saw the last remnants of her hair disappearing down the drain in the floor.

Trixie turned off the water and pulled the cord, which lowered the hoist holding Sue's arms. She led her out into the centre of the bathroom and, using soft white towels, which she picked from a pile, dried Sue off. As she did so Sue caught sight of herself in a mirror and she couldn't help but stare. It was as if a complete stranger was staring back at her. She looked like Natalie Portman out of V for Vendetta or Demi Moore from GI Jane, well, except, she had to admit she hadn't got quite their film star looks. However, she was going to turn heads in the street. And then, with a jolt, she wondered if she would ever again be in any streets to turn heads.

"Does my little Rosalita like how she looks?" the Countess had noticed her stare.

"Thank you, Countess, I look wonderful," Sue gushed and, although she was putting it on for the Countess there was more than a grain of truth in her words. It was as if this woman, this thing, this bizarre doll staring back from the mirror wasn't really her. Along with her hair had gone her sense of self; she had, indeed, become the plaything of the Countess and that was very liberating. Just as this thing in the mirror was no longer Susan Brown, but had become Rosalita so, what ever she did or was done to her would be done by or to Rosalita. She hadn't, she wouldn't, lose her identity altogether but she would lock it away in a box inside her, ready for when the time was right and, right now, she had become Rosalita, completely and absolutely. Being the dutiful slave, being totally obedient, would come naturally to her now her physical appearance had been changed so much. She turned towards the Countess and gave a little curtsey.

"Thank you, Countess," she said again, "little Rosalita loves her new look."

"Excellent! Now come along, let's do your make up."

The Countess led Trixie and Sue back into the bedroom and she was told to sit on a stool in front of the dressing table. The cuffs were removed from her wrists and she was ordered to clasp her hands behind her back. Then, working together, the Countess and Trixie set to applying make up. Sue was reminded of a toy she had had as a child. It consisted of a head and shoulders in some sort of rubbery plastic and she was supposed to brush its hair and apply the make up that was supplied with it. Well, this 'toy' had no hair to brush but, apart from that, the Countess and Trixie were treating her in just the same way and she had as little say in the outcome as the toy had had. The make up was just as much part of the transformation as the head shaving and, in its way, just as liberating.

"There, perfect!" the Countess said at last. "Now, what did we do with the nipple bells?"

"Here we are, Countess," Trixie said as she opened a jewellery case that had lain on the dressing table. Inside there were a mixture of gold and silver clamps in. The Countess rummaged through until she found a pair of clamps, each with its bell. They were joined by a chain just longer than the gap between Sue's nipples. Although the bells and chain were golden the clamps themselves were a harder metal and had quite sharp teeth to hold them on. Trixie bent down and, using her lips and teeth, teased out Sue's nipples until they were sufficiently prominent and the Countess could attach the clamps. Sue couldn't suppress a little squeak of pain as they gripped.

"Too tight for you, my little Rosalita?" the Countess asked.

"They're...." Sue saw the trap in time. "They're perfect, Countess. I love them." And, to reinforce the point, she wiggled her chest making her breasts bounce and the bells tinkle. "Just perfect."

"And do they make little Rosalita nice and passionate?"

To answer her question the Countess reached between Sue's thighs and used her fingers to probe between the lips of Sue's sex. Sue wasn't that surprised when they slipped in easily. She, or rather little Rosalita, had been aroused ever since the head shaving and she actually moved her thighs apart so as to make access easier. The Countess pushed her fingers a little deeper and used her thumb to stimulate the clitoral hood, sending electric tingles right through Sue's body. She threw her head back and, as she did so, the bells hanging from her nipples jingled. The little tweaks from the clamps only added to the mix.

"Oh, look!" the Countess removed her fingers and held them up in front of Sue's face, "little Rosalita is flowing with passion. Lick."

She held out her fingers in front of Sue's mouth and Sue licked them clean.

"Very good," the Countess purred. "It is good that you are passionate and you should endeavour to remain that way. An important part of your duties will be to entertain me and my guests by showing off that passion. Let's see how well you perform. Go and kneel on the bed. Give me a show, make it good, let me know just how much passion you really have."

For a moment Sue was non-plussed and then she realised what was wanted. Part of her duties was going to be acting as some sort of erotic dancer. Sue, in her previous life, would have been horrified, but Rosalita was a horny little slut who would just love the opportunity to show off how sexy she was. She stood up from the dressing table, sashayed over to the bed and got up onto it. Facing the Countess she knelt up with her knees wide apart and, looking the Countess straight in the eye, reached down with her right hand and started to rub in sensuous circles. Now, as Rosalita, she was freed from any constraints and could indulge her wildest exhibitionist fantasies and this was thrilling her to the core. If the Countess wanted a show then she was damn well going to get one! As her right hand played with her sex so her left hand played with her breasts, making the bells dance. The little jolts of pain as the clamps tugged at her nipples didn't so much hurt as seem to be wired directly to the core of her pleasure. The tinkling of the bells echoed a tingling of her senses.

As their gazes locked she could see that the Countess was just as aroused as she was. This tied directly into Rosalita's exhibitionist streak and spurred her on. She played with the tip of her tongue along her lips and, as she watched, saw the Countess do the same. They might not have been physically touching but they were definitely sharing the experience. She gave a little smile and, again, this was returned.

Fiona stared fascinated at the client. This was far from the first time she had seen this scenario, it was part and parcel of the 'slave training' routine. However, she had never seen it so convincingly done. This client was different, special. It must be something to do with the shaven head, she mused. Few clients went as far as that and it had added a whole new dimension to the game. Ever since then the client had been far more into it. Her state of arousal a few moments ago told its own story there, but, more than that, this display, this dance that she was doing, was genuinely and deeply erotic, far more so than any she had seen before.  She thought that she was pretty much immune by now but this was really getting to her and making her all hot and bothered. If she had her way she'd have ordered Angela to join in, and not with the client, either. Angela's tongue working its magic between her thighs was just what Fiona needed right now. However, the script called for her to be the icy Countess using orgasm denial to train her new slave and, if she didn't get a grip, things would get out of hand. For a moment, Fiona almost let the client have her pleasure but she was, at heart, a professional. It was time to call a halt before either of them lost control.

"Don't come without my permission, little Rosalita," the Countess warned, "or I'll have to smack that pretty little bottom of yours." Fiona saw Sue's face drop and it was all she could do to stick to the script. "You see, little Rosalita, you must learn that your performance is for my pleasure, not yours. If I'm not ready for you to come then it would be hurtful if you did. Maybe, if you're good, if you behave, then, if I'm feeling kindly towards you, then I'll let you come later. Now, I've seen enough of you on your own, why don't you do me a show with Trixie? Let's see how well you do with other slaves. Let's see if you can be as passionate with her."

Sue's whole body was in turmoil over her cut-short orgasm. Her fingers strayed a few more times over her mons but, somehow, it wasn't the same anymore. That didn't mean it was over, merely that she was shaken. She looked over at Trixie who was standing up and coming over to the bed. Trixie gave her a big, sexy smile and some of Sue's apprehensions melted.

Trixie got up onto the bed and shuffled over so that she was kneeling next to and facing Sue. She reached out for Sue's waist and, on this bidding, Sue turned round so that, like Trixie, she was side on to the Countess.  For a moment or two she and Trixie just looked at each other. Sue couldn't get out of her mind that silly song, "I Kissed a Girl". Her friends had thought it so sexy and daring but it was nothing compared with what she was about to do. Now that she'd got past the 'I'm being forced to have sex against my will' part, this was an exhilarating ride, a roller coaster journey through wild scenarios beyond even her most unrestrained fantasies. She wasn't just going to kiss this girl; she was going to have full on sex with her whilst being watched by her 'owner'.  The old boundaries, the limits of what she would or wouldn't do, had gone by the board as she hurtled headlong into her new life as the Countess's slave, doing her bidding and, what's more, getting off on it. Apprehension turned to anticipation as she leaned forward and kissed Trixie on the lips.

Angela, in her role as Trixie, had been here more than once before. Unlike the previous evening where the client was "forced" to go down on her, this time it should be more mutual. However, for many clients, this was another Rubicon to cross and they needed to be eased over into what was often their first mutual lesbian session. The trick was to let the client set the pace, to encourage, even lead at bit, but basically allow the client find out just how bi-curious she really was. This time could not have been more different. Right from the start the client rushed in with a no holds barred clinch and the kiss was no idle peck but tongues and all. Trixie broke from the kiss and hugged Sue close so that their heads were side by side and, crucially, Trixie's head was furthest from the Countess.

"Slow down," she whispered, "make it last."

"That bitch has left me so fucking horny!" Sue muttered between clenched teeth.

"I know, honey, she likes to do that but, trust me, it's better this way."

Sue got a grip on herself and realised that Trixie was right. Apart from anything else a long slow sensuous session was more likely to please the Countess than her bull-at-a-gate approach. She pulled back, gave Trixie a little smile and started kissing again, this time gentler, more sensually. Trixie responded in kind and, once they had started, it just seemed so simple, so easy. Sure, there was still this aching need that had to be satisfied but it could wait. She could enjoy the journey as well as the destination.

Fiona had, of course, been well aware of their whispered conversation; she was, after all, sitting only a few feet away from them. If she were playing strictly to the script then the Countess would have had to punish both of them for talking. However, she trusted Angela and, if she had felt the need to talk then she must have seen that the client needed guidance.

Meanwhile Sue was discovering just how different, and how similar, it was to make love to a woman. Now they had got past her initial passionate fury they were kissing with a tenderness and subtlety that Sue had never had from any of her male lovers. While she still wanted to be taken, ravished, plundered, she was appreciating that, where her male lovers had grabbed and groped, Trixie would stroke and caress. In particular Trixie didn't make an instant grab for her breasts and groin, nor did she play with her nipples as if they were the controls of a radio and, for that, Sue was grateful. But, for all that this was softer, gentler, than her male partners, it didn't mean that it was any less erotic.

However, as the caresses continued, and the heat between them continued to grow, Sue was beginning to wish Trixie would make a grab for her breast or her groin. The urgency of her need simply wasn't being met by this gentle approach and if Trixie wasn't going to do anything then she would have to. She rubbed their breasts together and this tugged on the clips holding the bells, sending zigzag shafts of pain through her aiming straight for the centre of her pleasure. She did it again and again and then Trixie got the message. She pulled back from the kiss and, reaching for Sue's breasts, started to play with the clips. The pain was really quite sharp but, whether because of the endorphins, the sexual high, or simply the atmosphere, it was one of the most exciting things Sue had ever experienced. She shuffled forwards so that their thighs interlocked further and kept doing so until her groin was resting on Trixie's knee. Now she could really get to work. As Trixie played with her nipples she forced her groin forward, rubbing it up and down, up and down. As to whether this was the 'passionate show' that the Countess had demanded, she neither knew nor cared. She was so close, so damn close, so very....

"Stop! Enough!" the Countess called out.

But this time Sue wasn't stopping. All her good intentions about being the well-behaved slave had gone out of the window. She had one need, one desire, one goal and stopping was not on the agenda. Trixie must have sensed this because she grabbed both of the clips and squeezed. The explosion of pain rocked through Sue's body and, in response, she ground herself down so that her whole weight seemed to be pressing down on Trixie's knee. Great waves of intense emotion wracked her body and she had to hang on to Trixie just to stay upright. The rule of silence was also well and truly broken as, fired by the force of the sensations running through every inch of her body, she cried out, not words but cries, cries mixed with both joy and of pain.

And then the wave broke, she could take no more and, exhausted to her very roots, she slumped forward and would have fallen to the bed had Trixie not held her.

Over Sue's shoulder Angela exchanged a grin with Fiona. This was not strictly according to the plan but there was no doubt that the client had had what she was paying for. The strength and intensity of her orgasm were unmistakable. However, as the client returned back to earth it was time to revert to the script.

"Oh, dear, little Rosalita," the Countess said with regret, "how you disappoint me. You were doing so well but you couldn't control yourself and now I'll have to punish you. Trixie, sweetie, go and prepare the horse, will you?"

Trixie lowered Sue gently to the bed and then slipped off to the main room of the suite. The Countess came over and sat down on the bed next to Sue. She reached out and gently stroked the still shaking body of her 'slave'.

"I'm sorry, so sorry, Countess," Sue replied, horrified at just how wrong her 'be obedient' policy was going. "I just couldn't help myself. My passion... it...."

"Oh, I understand, you have so much passion that you lost control. You're such a pretty little thing, little Rosalita, and you have such a gift of natural passion, that I'm glad I bought you, even if you cost more than I planned to spend. But that doesn't make it right. You disobeyed me and that will never do. I will have to teach you self control; the paddle and the crop will do that for me. Now you must be punished, not a lot, just enough to help you learn. Come, child."

The Countess took Sue's hand and stood up leading her gently off the bed and through to the main room of the suite. Sue was still so shell-shocked from her orgasm that she hadn't fully taken in what the Countess had said and it wasn't until she saw the horse that she put up any resistance. The Countess gripped her wrist firmly and Trixie came across and took Sue's other hand. Together they half led, half dragged Sue towards the horse.

"But... please... Countess," Sue stuttered as she pulled back from their grip.

"Come along now, don't make this worse than it already is," the Countess said sternly. "You're in enough trouble already and if you don't start behaving I'll only have to punish you more. If you don't go over the horse willingly then I will be forced to call for help and you will be made to go over. Trust me when I tell you that you don't want that to happen. Now, are you going to behave?"

Whether it was the Countess's words or her tone that got to Sue is immaterial. The threat was real enough and she was currently not doing very well in her campaign to allay suspicion by being a well-behaved slave. If she was going to have to go over the horse it would be best if she went of her own accord. Maybe it would help alleviate the worst of what was to come.

"I'm sorry, Countess," she said, bowing her head and allowed herself to be led towards the horse. "I was forgetting myself."

The horse was a little more than waist height with a broad leather padded top and, inevitably, was fitted with leather cuffs attached by chains to the bottom of the four legs. Indeed, it appeared to have been designed specifically for punishment rather than any real gymnastic use. Guided by the Countess and Trixie, Sue lay across the top and, as her wrists were cuffed to the legs, so her feet were lifted off the ground and she was entirely supported by her stomach. This done, Trixie and the Countess went round to her ankles and Sue felt herself being spread wide as they were similarly fastened. She glanced sideways to where a full sized mirror hung on the wall and she could see her reflection. Upended and wide open, ready for a spanking, there was no dignity left to her at all.

"Now then, little Rosalita," the Countess said, coming up behind her and gently stroking her finger up and down the crease of Sue's buttocks. "You are new to this so I shall be gentle. I shall use a paddle, not a crop or a whip, and maybe twenty strokes will be enough to remind you in future. What do you say?"

"Err...," Sue tried to think herself into the role of the compliant slave. She was supposed to be grateful for everything the Countess did to her. Was she supposed to be grateful for this as well? "Thank you," she essayed.

"Thank you, is that all?" the Countess's tone was icy.

"I'm sorry, Countess, I'm grateful, really I am. I want to be better, I want to learn self control. Please, please don't hurt me too much."

"That's better," the Countess replied. "That's more like it." She seemed in no hurry to start the punishment; rather she continued play with Sue's buttocks. She let her fingertips stray over Sue's sphincter, feeling her tense as she gently probed.

In fact Fiona was mulling over her next move. This punishment scenario was, once more, straight from the script but, as with the head shaving, she was well aware that there was often a gap between what the clients asked for and what they really wanted. After all, levels of pain tolerance varied widely. She prided herself on being able to read the client's real wants and hated the rare occasion when she heard the go-slow word or, worse still, the stop word. But this client was different and almost impossible to read. The way she had baulked when she had seen the horse spoke volumes; she certainly wasn't looking forward to this in the way that many of the clients did. On the other hand she had capitulated easily and there had been neither hide nor hair of any safe words. It was like the head shave. Before they had done it Fiona could have sworn that the client was horrified at the prospect but, once they had started she had really got off on it. Anyway, the solution was simple. She would use a moderate paddle, nothing too heavy, start off easy and slowly ramp it up until the client started to show signs of distress. She'd stop from time to time and keep a close eye on things; that way she could judge just how much the client really wanted.

With this in mind she went to the chest of drawers and fetched out a suitable paddle. Then, because its flowing lines got in the way of her swing, she ordered Trixie to take off her dressing gown and, dressed only in her shift, returned to where Sue was upended over the horse.

Although she enjoyed playing the Domme, Fiona was no sadist. She would never want to really hurt someone but the sight of Sue's twin shapely globes so nicely presented to her simply called out to be thoroughly spanked. She was professional enough to enjoy her work whatever the client but this one, who was both as cute as a button and deliciously submissive, was a real joy. Again she traced the outline of the twin upended globes, enjoying the anticipation of what she was about to do.

"And why do I have to punish you, little Rosalita?" the Countess asked.

"I... I came without permission," Sue replied.

"Indeed, little Rosalita, but it's far more than that. You must learn that, from now on, you are my toy, my plaything. When you put your pleasure before mine, when you let your needs rather than mine dictate your actions, then you are less than I demand, less than you can be. When you learn to serve, really serve, then you will be something very special. You want to be something special, don't you?"

"Yes, Countess", Sue replied although she felt she would have preferred to be someone special rather than something special.

"Well then, I'm helping you become what you want to be. That's why you should be grateful. Are you grateful for me helping you so?"

"Yes, Countess, thank you, Countess."

"So grateful that you would like me to add another ten strokes of the paddle to really drive the message home?"

"Please, Countess...," Sue started automatically, and then realised she had effectively asked for ten more strokes of the paddle. However, she couldn't see an easy way to get out of this so she just kept quiet.

And the worst of it was that, all during this conversation, the Countess was spending more and more time playing with her fingers in the groove between Sue's buttocks. To Sue's consternation this was, for some reason, incredibly erotic and, when the Countess's fingers reached far enough to start playing with Sue's labia, she couldn't help but respond, to push back, to open herself up as far as her restraints would let her. The Countess noticed this and probed further until the tip of her forefinger was gently stroking Sue's clitoral hood.

"And does little Rosalita like being played with?"

"Yes, Countess, thank you, Countess." And she did. Sue's life was turning topsy-turvy and not just because of the upended position she was currently in. This bizarre world where she was some sort of sex toy for this mad Venezuelan Countess should have been terrifying but her libido was saying otherwise. She hadn't really come down from the orgasm she had had rubbing herself against Trixie's knee and now it wasn't just the Countess's finger in her pussy that she wanted, she actually craved the sting of the paddle against her buttocks. The jolt of pain from the clamps around her nipples had been the force behind the intensity of her last orgasm and something told her that there was a fair chance that a spanked bottom would have the same effect. Even now, the throbbing coming from her nipples where the clamps still grasped them was part and parcel of the reason she was still flying high.

And then the Countess took her hand away and, smack, the first blow landed. It stung rather than hurt but that didn't stop Sue's whole body jerking forward and this made the bells hanging from her nipples swing about, tinkling as the clips they were attached to tugged at her nipples. Smack, the next blow landed, and the next, and the next. Each blow in itself wasn't too bad but the cumulative effect was increasingly hard to bear and Sue couldn't help but give little yelps of pain.

After ten blows of the paddle the Countess paused for a moment and let the tips of her fingers gently glide over the twin globes of Sue's battered buttocks. Sue winced as she did so but managed to keep quiet.

"And is little Rosalita learning her lesson?" the Countess asked. She let her fingers trace down to where the glistening edges of Sue's labia spoke of her continued arousal. She probed inside to once again play with the sensitive flesh concealed within. "Well? Answer me. Are you learning that your pleasure is to give me pleasure?"

"Yes, Countess, I am, Countess," Sue replied somewhat breathlessly.

"Then you will welcome the next ten stokes to help drive home the lesson. Look how good I'm being to you. What do you say?"

"Thank you, Countess, thank you." Sue had been expecting this and, curiously, she actually meant some of it. The combination of the warm glow from her butt cheeks and the Countess's finger playing with her pleasure button was, once more, driving her towards an orgasm and she was unashamedly pushing back, rubbing herself against the Countess's hand as much as the Countess's hand was rubbing her. The Countess let her ride like this for a while before withdrawing. Sue couldn't suppress a sigh as, realising that the stimulation was over, she flopped back down on the horse.

"Now, let's continue, shall we?" the Countess said sweetly. "I believe we have ten more strokes to go."

Fiona, reassured by the obvious arousal of the client, set too with the paddle striking a shade harder against the already inflamed flesh. With each stroke Sue couldn't suppress a mew of pain and her eyes were filling with tears. However this didn't stop the need between her thighs and, as she squirmed about, she wished she could just bring some pressure to bear, something, anything, to feed this hunger.

"...and twenty," the Countess said as the last stroke fell. "There, little Rosalita, that wasn't so bad, was it? Now, what do you say?"

For a moment Sue couldn't say anything. Her backside was on fire but that was nothing compared to the need between her thighs. She wanted to beg, to plead, to promise anything just to get the Countess's fingers back, just to give her the relief she so badly needed. However, even though her thoughts were in turmoil, she knew that pleading was bound to fail. Her best course of action would be to appear compliant and hope, pray, that the Countess would take pity on her and allow her further relief.

"Thank you, Countess," she said, rather unsteadily. "Little Rosalita is grateful for her punishment."

"And have you learnt your lesson? Will you be a good little girl and only come when I allow it?" the Countess, once again, reached between Sue's thighs. She cupped her hand and Sue gratefully pushed back, twisting and turning as much as her bonds would allow. The Countess looked over at Trixie and mouthed the word 'rabbit'. Trixie gave a grin in reply and went to the relevant drawer and fetched out the vibrator and handed it to the Countess. She removed her hand and started to use the tip of the vibrator to stroke up and down Sue's labia, which seemed to open up and welcome the invader. There was no doubting the extent of Sue's arousal now as the full length of the rabbit slid smoothly inside her eliciting a groan of 'Oh my god!' from Sue. Once the rabbit was fully inside the Countess switched it on to a low setting.

"Ooh, little Rosalita likes that, doesn't she?"

"Yes, Countess, thank you, Countess," Sue gasped.

"But you're still not to come unless I allow it. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Countess, of course, Countess."

In truth Sue was seriously conflicted. She knew she shouldn't come and, as such, she should do everything possible to avoid coming. On the other hand that was like putting a chocolate gateau in front of a starving chocoholic and telling her not to eat it. She wasn't sure that there was that much self-control in the world. The feel of the rabbit, the way that it filled her up while, simultaneously, hitting all those sensitive spots was just heavenly. So much of her wanted just that little bit more, that little bit that would push her over the edge, that bit which would let her release all this pent up tension and to hell with the consequences.

Fiona turned the rabbit up another notch. She could tell that the client was right on the edge of coming and her job was to keep her there. As the Countess she would strongly disapprove were little Rosalita to come again. As Fiona her job was to give the client the best orgasm possible, to make her come despite herself. She eased the rabbit back and forth a bit and each time she pushed it inwards, pushing the rabbit bit against the client's clitoris, the client found it harder and harder to control herself.

While Fiona was busy teasing Sue, Sarah Bolton was pulling into the car park outside. The Hollywood trip had been successful; she had made significant headway with a potential new client who had been particularly impressed by the discretion and professionalism of her organisation. The potential client's goody-two-shoes on-screen image would be badly tarnished if her adoring fans knew of her real proclivities. Sarah had been a little concerned that she had not been there to oversee this first session with Jennifer Harris but was content that there was nothing that Fiona and the rest of the cast couldn't handle and, anyway, except when she had been in the air, her mobile had been on at all times. She parked up her 'S' class Mercedes and went inside. Gill and Ruth were on duty in the control area and, as she came up behind them she glanced through the one-way mirror where she could see Fiona and Angela in role as the Countess and Trixie along with the client who was upended over a horse. The client was facing away from the mirror so Sarah couldn't see her face but the tanned backside spoke volumes about how they were proceeding.

"All well?" she asked Gill.

"Fine boss. She's just had a paddling and now Fiona and Angela are doing the orgasm denial bit. She's a strange one, though."

"Strange?" Sarah's anxiety about not supervising this one from the start moved up a notch. "How do you mean?"

"Well, it's as if she actually believes it," Gill replied. "I've never known any client get so deep into the role."

"But she's getting off on it?"

"Oh yeah. Fiona and I have both been making sure of that. What's more, she came like a good'un on the auction post, she came again this morning doing a show for 'the Countess' and, if I'm any judge, she's right on the edge of another."

Sarah went over to the controls and flicked the switch, which enabled the hidden microphones so that they could hear what was going on. The client was far from silent but moans and mewing sounds she was making were certainly not those of a woman in distress. They watched as Fiona once more eased the rabbit out, leaving just the tip inside her and the plaintive wail from the client was almost painful to hear. Still, this was what she had signed up for and there was no denying how aroused she was. She watched through the one-way mirror as, once more, Fiona eased the rabbit back deep inside the client, forcing a groan from her lips.

Sue would have preferred to be paddled again, better than this endless teasing. Time and time again that bitch of a Countess was taking her right to the edge and yet, every time, she was denied relief. But it wasn't just the vibrator doing its stuff that was fuelling this crisis; the still warm glow from her buttocks and the constant throbbing from the clamps on her nipples were adding their piquancy to the mix and, whisper it quietly, the whole scenario, upended over a horse and at another's mercy, was equally disturbing. This time the Countess seemed to be holding the rabbit inside her for longer. She knew she had been forbidden to come and part of her was terrified at the prospect of another beating but, quite frankly, she had little control over it and, as the nubbin on the side, the rabbit bit, played with her clitoris, she could feel the dam breaking within her. She tried, with limited success, to bottle up all the cries that threatened to burst from her but the tension kept on building and... and....

The climax, when it came, was overwhelming. Every nerve in Sue's body seemed to be singing out in release and she was barely aware of where she was or what she was doing. She seemed to float away, mindless, formless, lost in a soft haze. Dimly, at the edge of reason, she was aware of the rabbit inside her, and the Countess controlling it, but she was too enraptured by the experience to really care. Slowly the dream began to unravel, slowly she returned to earth, slowly her world came back into focus and, exhausted and depleted, she collapsed across the horse. If she were to receive further punishment then she didn't care; at that moment she didn't care about anything.

Fiona removed the rabbit and let the client get her breath back.

"Oh dear, little Rosalita, it looks like you haven't learnt after all. Maybe the crop will help push the message home."

Sue just lay there, flopped over the horse, overpowered by it all.

Back in the control room Sarah, satisfied that Fiona had everything under control, switched off the microphone and poured herself a cup of coffee. When she turned back to the one-way mirror Fiona was stroking the client's backside with the riding crop. It looked as if this particular client really did want the full package.

Sarah went to her office and settled down to the inevitable paperwork. In one corner there was the box containing the client's possessions: her shoes, her coat, her handbag and her umbrella. Her clothes, of course, had been destroyed as part of the 'preparation for auction'. Again and again it caught Sarah's eye. There was something not quite right but she couldn't put her finger on it. In the end she had to go over and look closer. It was the umbrella, there was something wrong about the umbrella. She pulled it out and, sure enough, it wasn't the real thing, it was a copy and not a particularly good one at that. She'd got a pretty good feel for Jennifer Harris during the initial interviews and it simply wasn't like her to have a knock off copy of a Gucci umbrella; surely she'd have the real thing. She reached for the handbag, rummaged around inside and found the client's purse with all the false documents. Once glance at the driving license was enough. The name was right, Susan Brown, but the address was wrong. Her stomach lurched at the implications and she felt as if she were going to vomit. With shaking hands she reached for the phone and dialled her legal advisor.

"Francine, hi, it's Sarah," she said once the connection had been made. "Look, think I've got a crisis, a big crisis. Can you get down to the warehouse, right away? .... Yes, I know it's Saturday but I need you here soonest. ... What sort of crisis? It's a total fucking nightmare. I think we may have kidnapped the wrong woman. No, I'm not joking. I only wish I was. Now, how soon can you get here?"

Assured that Francine was on her way, Sarah went down to the control centre. She looked through the one-way mirror. The client, or rather, the non-client, was still over the horse. Vivid red wheals on the back of the non-client's legs attested to the way the crop had been used. Sarah couldn't see her backside as it was obscured by Angela who was, judging by the straps around her backside and rhythmic movements of her hips, sodomising the client with a strap on. Sarah knew she ought to stop it, she ought to stop it right away, but, as a way of putting off the inevitable, first she felt she had to make completely sure. She turned to Ruth and asked her if she had a recording of the auction. Sure enough Ruth had kept the footage from the webcam and, after a few keystrokes, it was playing on her monitor.

Sarah asked Ruth to stop playback and zoom in on the 'client's' face. She already knew what to expect but this confirmed it beyond doubt. There, tied to the auction post, was a woman Sarah had never seen before, and, furthermore, definitely not Jennifer Harris. She couldn't, in all conscience, put it off any longer; at the end of the day she was responsible for the actions of her company and she had to release this woman from her torment. She walked round to the door of the set and went inside.

Sue was in a strange place. As a punishment for failing to control herself the Countess had given her a dozen strokes with the riding crop. The paddle had stung, stung enough to bring tears to her eyes, but it was nothing compared with the crop. Sue had howled, unashamedly and unreservedly, as the crop had left its ribbons of fire not just across her already battered backside but also down the backs of her thighs.

And, if that were not enough, the Countess had decided to reinforce the message by having her Trixie fuck her up the arse with a strap on. To be fair they had used plenty of lubricant but she still felt stretched to the limit as the rigid invader was forced inside her bowels.

But this was the strange part. Her stretched sphinctre, the still burning wheals, the clamps on her nipples, all of them hurt, really hurt, but, between them, they had taken her to a place where she was almost serene, detached, almost as if this were happening to someone else. Now she actually welcomed the thrusts from the strap-on, actually wanted the abuse. During her college years she had dabbled in some of the milder drugs but neither ecstasy nor hash had ever given her a high like this.

She was so far gone she was barely aware of the door opening and the sudden commotion around her. She felt the strap-on being eased from her anus and the cuffs around her ankles and wrists being released. Someone, she assumed Trixie helped her to gently slide back onto her feet, the clamps from her nipples were removed and she was led across to a sofa where she lay down. Trixie went to the door and, reaching outside, fetched both dressing gowns, one of which she brought back and laid over Sue as a sort of blanket, the other she put on. As the mists cleared Sue looked up and there was this strange woman looking at her.

"What now," Sue thought to herself.

"Miss Brown," the woman said, "my name is Sarah and I run an organisation called Executive Fantasies. I'm afraid to say that you have been the victim of a series of very unfortunate coincidences."

"Executive Fantasies? What the fuck?! "

"Miss Brown, as you may know, there are those who have fantasies of being abducted and mistreated. My company provides the means by which those fantasies can be made real. Everything that has happened to you here was actually the voluntary request of one of our clients. Unfortunately, well, as I say, there were a series of unfortunate coincidences and, well, there's no beating around the bush, we got the wrong woman."

As Sue came down from the subspace high her mistreated body started to complain. Her buttocks and the back of her thighs were on fire, her nipples throbbed and her backside seemed to have been stretched beyond repair. Moreover she was beginning to make sense of what this woman was saying.

"So... all this... it's not real... it's just somebody's sick fantasy... and you... you... you got the wrong bloody woman! Do you know what they've done to me! Do you have any idea what I've been through!" Sue sat up, wincing as her buttocks touched the sofa, and got to her feet. She took the dressing gown and wrapped it around her. "So what happens now? What's to stop me going straight to the police?"

"Please, Miss Brown, I do understand your distress and, yes, I do know what you've been through. As for going to the police, I'd ask you to hang fire for a moment or two. My legal advisor is on her way and, when she arrives, maybe we can persuade you not to go. Look, I know you haven't had any breakfast yet. Why don't you go with Angela and let us get you some coffee at least?"

"Breakfast! After all you've put me through you think you can fob me off with breakfast! And who the fuck is Angela?"

"Please, Miss Brown, I'm not trying to fob you off. Really I'm not. It's just that making this right is going to take a moment or two to organise. I'm working as hard as I can to find an acceptable solution and, while you're waiting, I'd like to offer you some breakfast."

"And who's Angela?" Sue repeated.

"I believe you know her as Trixie. And, while we're at it, can I also introduce you to Fiona?"

Sue looked across at Angela and Fiona who smiled back sheepishly.

"So, not a Venezuelan Countess, then."

"Just a girl from Croydon, I'm afraid," Fiona answered.

Sue looked from Angela to Fiona and back again. They smiled back sheepishly and it was getting harder and harder to stay cross with them. Oh, sure, she was still furious at this Sarah woman and her glibness but she was starting to realise that she hadn't got that many options. She was still stark naked except for the dressing gown and effectively trapped in whatever hellhole they were keeping her in. She had no idea what this woman could do to 'sort things out' but she might as well see what was on offer and, in the meanwhile, her rumbling stomach was demanding food.

"OK," she said reluctantly. "And, while we're at it, some clothes would be nice. Maybe you've forgotten that mine were shredded and I haven't got a stitch to wear. What are you going to do about that?"

"I can assure you I hadn't forgotten. If you'll just go with Angela she'll show you the clothes we keep for exactly that reason. You'll find we have a number of items in a number of styles. Please feel free to choose anything you want with our compliments. Now. If you'll excuse me, I have much to arrange.  Angela, perhaps you could take Miss Brown to the debriefing room. Fiona, do you think you could arrange some breakfast?"

"Whatever you're arranging it had better be good," Sue said to Sarah before turning to Angela. "Come along then, take me to this debriefing room."

The "debriefing room" turned out to be a lounge with an attached bathroom. On one wall there was a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a dressing table. The first thing Sue noticed on the dressing table was the three mannequin heads, each with a wig. This brought back to her that she had had her head shaved and she went to the dressing table and looked at herself in the mirror.

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed. "Look at the state of this."

"I'm sorry," Angela started. "If we'd have known...."

"Do you do this often?" Sue asked, stroking her bald head as if she still didn't believe she had been shaven.

"Quite a bit. Well, not so much the head shaving, that's a bit special, but the general gist is mostly the same."

Sue gave Angela a long hard look as she fully took in what she was saying.

"And you, you don't mind being...," Sue wasn't sure where this question was leading.

"I think of myself as an actress," Angela replied. "We act out the client's fantasies, make them come 'real'. OK, so it's not the sort of job you tell mum about but the pay's good and, to tell the truth, the job's not so bad either. I mean... well...," Angela gave a shy smile, "I get to fool around with lots of attractive women. I probably shouldn't say this but I thought we had quite a bit of fun together. You have a talented tongue and I enjoyed showering with you...."

Angela's shy smile was infectious and Sue started to see the humour in it all. Her frown turned into a smile and then a giggle. It's hard to feel mean towards someone with whom you have had extreme sex only minutes ago and, after all, Angela was not the guilty party here.

"So, what happens now?" Sue asked.

"Well, the bathroom's through there and we have clothes and a selection of wigs all set out for you. Of course, the sizes may be a bit out as we bought for the original client but we'll see what we can do. If necessary I guess one of us can do a run to the shops for you."

Angela and Sue went over to the chest of drawers and sorted through the underwear. There was no doubting that it was all top of the range stuff and all brand new. Unfortunately, when she tried them on, the bras were all the wrong size so Sue had to compromise with a chemise top and matching panties, both in pure silk. She put these on and was just searching through the wardrobe when Fiona arrived with the breakfast trolley. She'd brought enough for them all so she stayed to chat. Sue took a break from the wardrobe and started off with some much-needed coffee. The smell of freshly warmed croissants reminded her how hungry she was, so she had one of those as well, with a pat of butter and some little scarlet strawberry preserves. Now that they were all out of role she found that Fiona was just as friendly as Angela and the three of them were getting along fine. They had made serious inroads into the breakfast trolley and were still chatting when Sara and yet another woman entered.

"Ah, Miss Brown, I do hope Fiona and Angela are looking after you OK. Please let me introduce Francine, my legal advisor. Why don't you take a seat? We'd like to talk to you about what happens next."

"I'll stand, if you don't mind," Sue said firmly. "I'm not sure I'm going to be sitting comfortably for quite a while."

"As you wish. I hope you don't mind if we sit," Sarah replied as she and Francine sat down. Sarah nodded to Francine to start.

"Miss Brown," Francine began, "whilst Executive Fantasies cannot admit any liability they wish to express their sincere regret over the unfortunate circumstances which have brought you here. Furthermore we wish to reach an agreement satisfactory to all parties.

"I gather from my client that you are considering legal action, in short that you wish to go to the police. There are a number of reasons why this is not seen as a satisfactory outcome and, without going into details, if you insist on persisting in this course of action, Executive Fantasies will be forced to do everything in their power to ensure that your knowledge of their personnel and this location is kept to a minimum. I might also mention, at this point, that Executive Fantasies has a number of influential clients and, if necessary, would use every method possible to discredit you and the meagre information you already know.

"However, we sincerely hope that it never comes to that. We'd be far happier with a more amicable outcome. Perhaps you would like to cast your eyes over this offer." Francine opened her briefcase and handed Sue  a file. Sue opened it and the first thing she saw was an official looking piece of paper with a large sum of money printed on it.

"What's this?" she asked.

"That is a banker's draft. It's a bit like a cheque except you don't know the name of the payor. That is the sum Executive Fantasies is prepared to offer in consideration of any inconvenience you may have suffered. However, before you make your mind up, you should also read the attached contract."

Sue tried to read through the contract but it was full of the legal gobble-de-gook and totally impenetrable. She could, however, understand the gist of it. If she were to divulge any knowledge of Executive Fantasies to anyone then she would be personally liable for a sum considerably greater than the one on the banker's draft. She looked again at the sum being offered. She would have to work several years to earn that much and here she was being offered it on a plate. Evidently there was good money in Executive Fantasies. No wonder they were so keen to keep it a secret.

"I need some time to think this over," she said. "Maybe, if you could leave me alone for a while. Anyway, I need to finish getting dressed."

"Of course," Sarah answered. "By the way, here's your handbag. We've kept your mobile phone, for the moment, if you don't mind."

"And even if I do," Sue said with a laugh. Sarah gave a rueful smile.

"Just knock on the door when you're ready. Angela will wait outside and she'll come and fetch us when you're ready to talk again."

And with that they all trooped out. Sue stared at the banker's draft. It really was silly money. Then she went over to the wardrobe. All the clothes were, as with the underwear, top of the range stuff from the best West End stores, stuff that would normally be well beyond her means. She wondered about the real client. How rich would they have to be to afford all this? She chose a trouser suit in navy blue and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked fabulous. If only she could afford clothes like this.

And that was when the plan started. Well, the initial seeds had been sown by Angela, but that was when it started to make sense. Sure, she'd accept the banker's draft, Executive Fantasies were going to have to pay, but there would be more to it that that. She went to the door, knocked on it and, when Angela answered she told her that she was ready to talk. Two minutes later Sarah and Francine were walking back into the room.

"I have a slightly different suggestion," Sue started. gOne that might suit both of us...h

Six months later

Sue, her hands locked behind her back, shuffled across the floor on her knees. Fiona, as ever, looked magnificent as she stood over her in her role as the Countess. Beside her, also on their knees, were the two other 'slaves', Angela in role as Trixie and Jennifer, today's client. Sue had only glanced at the script. She found it easier to stay in role if she didn't know exactly what was coming and, ever since she had joined the cast after that fateful weekend, she had grown to trust that whatever was meted out would be thrilling and fabulously sexy. But, even though she didn't know the details she knew that before the weekend was over she would be getting as good as she gave. Not only would her tongue be well used but she would also be on the receiving end.

Right now, though, it was time to play her part. She leant forward and kissed the Countess's toes. She felt the riding crop tracing the outline of her naked buttock and, even before the first blow, she felt her juices flow. All this and a fat paycheque at the end of the day. This was real job satisfaction!