Gotcha

Parp… Parp… Parp… Parp… Jen groaned as she rolled over. One thing that was certain, however long she was kept as Wendy’s slave, pet or whatever else she might become, she would never, ever, get used to being woken by that damn siren and the flashing lights that went with it. Despite the temptation to tuck her head under the pillow and hope it would all go away she knew that the only way to stop it was to get out of bed so, wiping the sleep from her eyes, she sat up and pushed the covers aside. As with the previous day the siren stopped the moment her feet touched the floor, which implied, as with the previous day, that she was being watched. With an ironic wave to the CCTV camera she stood up and went over to the toilet. As she sat relieving herself she wondered again exactly who it was who was doing the watching. Juanita would surely be far too busy preparing breakfast but any of the other three was a possibility and she could imagine each of them in their own way getting a kick out of it. For Jen it was all part of the dehumanisation; there are, after all, few more private acts than going to the toilet and having to do so under the cold glassy stare of the CCTV camera worked to strip from her any last shreds of dignity she might aspire to.

She washed her hands and used the mirror above the basin to examine, as best she could, the bruising that remained on her buttocks. The worst of the damage was subsiding and it didn’t hurt so much anymore but there were still plenty of marks to show where Fran had struck her. As for the damage to her sphincter, it still felt as if she would never mend and she did her ablutions with care. She was still twisting and turning, trying to get a decent view in the small mirror, when Juanita called her to breakfast.

As Jen went to the kitchen she was feeling much more confident than the day before. Sure, she was still stark naked, sure she knew that there were plenty of ways in which she could trip up and find herself in trouble, sure she knew her freedom was not something she was going to regain in a hurry but this was not the vast unknown it had been and, in Juanita, she felt she had a friend. When she got there she was the first to arrive and she went over and gave Juanita a peck on the cheek.

“Thank you, Juanita, thanks for being so nice to me last night.”

“De nada, Chiquita.” Juanita replied with a smile. “The Mistress, she no so bad for you eh?”

“No, Juanita, she wasn’t so bad. Umm, that bacon smells nice.”

“Hey, No touch! You sit, drink your coffee, leave me to cook.”

Smiling to herself Jen went over to the breakfast bar and poured herself a cup of coffee from the percolator.

When Sally arrived she was curiously subdued and sat down with hardly a word. Jen offered her some coffee which she accepted and the two of them supped their drinks in silence. When Juanita brought over the cooked breakfasts there were only two of them, evidently Fran was not around that day, and, as the two women ate, the only sound was the clink of cutlery against the dishes. From time to time Jen would catch Sally looking at her, looking with an intensity that was disturbing. Jen remembered what Juanita had said the night before; it looked as if Sally’s jealousy was going to be a problem, a problem to add to all the others Jen was facing.

With Breakfast finished Jen and Sally went to their separate rooms to get ready. Jen noted the pile of clothes on the bed but she was more interested in the shower. Wendy had promised hot water, had she kept her word? Jen adjusted the temperature control to roughly half way, set the flow to maximum and, within seconds, was rewarded by a torrent of piping hot water. She fine tuned it to as hot as she could take and slipped in. This was bliss, luxuriating under the flow, turning this way and that to feel the hot water hammering against her skin, massaging it clean. She reached for her hair shampoo and poured out a generous dollop. Today wasn’t going to be a quick rinse under freezing water, today she was going to enjoy every second as she massaged the rich lather into her scalp.

By the time she got round to washing her body she realised that she had spent so long over her hair that she’d better get a move on. Even so, she soaped herself thoroughly from top to bottom, enjoying the shower. For the fist time since her capture she felt fresh and alive, ready to face anything the day might throw at her. When, at last, the water finally started to run cold she got out of the shower, towelled herself down and she was busy with her make up when Sally arrived.

“Come on slowcoach.” Sally said. “If you keep her waiting you’ll pay for it.”

“Coming, coming. Two more minutes.” While Sally waited Jen finished off her make up as quickly as she could before going over to the bed and the pile of clothes. They didn’t look quite as neatly folded as she had remembered but there wasn’t time to think about that, she could appreciate that Sally was right about not keeping Wendy waiting. She put on the stockings and reached for the blouse when…

“Oh my God, I can’t wear this!” The blouse had a bright red mark right across the front. From the looks of it the mark was lipstick.

“Well, you’ll have too. We’re late already and anyway there isn’t another one.”

“But… But…” However, Jen could see the logic, there really was no alternative, she was late and there was no other blouse; she would have to wear this one, however bad it was. As fast as she could she finished getting dressed and followed Sally out to the garage, her earlier exhilaration from the shower replaced by a feeling of panic. When they got to the car she got in the back and, in a desperate attempt to hide the damage to her blouse, tugged her jacket round her as close as possible

When the car pulled up in front of the house Wendy was already waiting with a look on her face like thunder. She stormed over to the car and Sally barely had enough time to get out and open the door for her.

“And which one of you is responsible for keeping me waiting this morning?” Wendy demanded of Jen as the car pulled out of the driveway.

“I’m sorry, Mistress, I couldn’t…” Jen realised she would have to own up.

“I am not in the slightest bit interested in hearing whatever pathetic excuse you try to come up with. You will not keep me waiting under any circumstances. Now stop cowering in the corner and sit up properly.”

Jen sat up and, as she did so her jacket opened showing the bright red mark across her blouse.

“And what’s this?” Wendy demanded. “What on earth persuaded you that coming to work with your clothes disfigured like this was in any way acceptable?”

“Please, Mistress, it was like that when I found it this morning. I didn’t do it.” Jen was now genuinely scared and felt like a naughty school child in front of an unforgiving head mistress.

“Like that when you found it, I don’t believe you.” Wendy pressed the button which wound down the glass screen between the front and back of the car.

“Sally” she demanded “do you know anything about the red marks on piglet’s blouse.”

“No, Mistress.” Sally replied. “On the contrary I can guarantee the blouse was spotless when I delivered it this morning.”

Wendy pressed the button again and the screen rose once more.

“Well, it would appear that in you we have a sluggard, who can’t get out of bed on time, a sloven, who mistreats the clothes she is given to wear, and, worst of all, a bare faced little liar who tries to wriggle out of it when she’s caught red handed. I have no idea what gave you the impression that I would tolerate any of these but you are going to learn that I don’t. Now, pull yourself together and stop snivelling.”

Jen had, indeed, started to cry. She hadn’t meant to but her nerves had been on edge ever since she had found the mark and Wendy’s disapproval was all that she had feared. How brief, how fleeting was her earlier exhilaration from the shower; once again all her self confidence had been destroyed and she was left feeling lost and alone. As the car swept along the road Wendy ignored her, pulling a file from her briefcase and studying it. Jen stared out of the window, biting back the tears. Twenty minutes later they arrived at the office and Wendy stopped to talk to Sally as she got out of the car.

“You had better bring this in through the service entrance.” Wendy pointed at Jen, her voice dripping with contempt. “I’m not having her walk through reception looking like the dog’s breakfast, she can come in the back way and, when you’ve done that, could you sort her out a clean blouse.”

“Yes, Mistress. Of course, Mistress.” Sally was, as ever, the efficient chauffeur. She got back in the car and drove round to the underground car park to leave the car in Wendy’s reserved place. As Sally took Jen through the entrance to the service lifts she couldn’t help smirking.

“Ooh, Madam is cross with you. If I were you I’d slip an exercise book down my panties, oops, I forgot, you’re not wearing any. I wonder what she’ll use? A cane perhaps or a riding crop? Whatever, that cute little tush of yours is going to be red raw before the day is over, you can bet your bottom dollar on that.”

By the time the lift got to the fifteenth floor Jen was thoroughly sick of Sally but she was too dispirited to do anything about it; having her harp on and on about the upcoming punishment was just another thing she was having to put up with. At last it was over, the lift had reached the top floor and Wendy’s office. Jen tried to sneak in as unobtrusively as possible but Wendy was waiting for her.

“Come over here.” She said as soon as Jen entered. Jen went over next to Wendy’s desk and, without being asked, knelt down and bowed her head.

“Very pretty, but it won’t get you out of anything. Do you see this paddle?” Jen looked up to see Wendy pointing to a leather paddle with a wooden handle which lay on her desk. “Every hour, on the hour, you will come over to my desk, bend over, and ask to be punished with as many strokes of the paddle as the hour on the clock. In ten minutes it will be eight-o-clock and you will ask for eight strokes. At nine-o-clock you will ask for nine strokes, at ten-o-clock ten strokes and so on. Do you think you can manage that?”

“Please, Mistress, it was a mistake, I didn’t mean to be late and I’ve no idea where the mark on my blouse came from.” Jen was desperate.

“Did I ask for your excuses? No, I didn’t. I asked if you had understood. If you continue to disobey, if you continue to talk back,  I will up your punishment. I strongly suggest that you get back to your desk and get on with your work and, for God’s sake, stop whining.”

Jen tried to pull herself together but it was hard. She was getting used to having to do whatever Wendy demanded but she was pretty scared of what was coming. Giving Mr Hong his blow job yesterday had been distasteful but at least it hadn’t hurt. Her buttocks were still bruised and battered from Fran’s ministrations so even the lightest taps were going to be really painful, and she was in no doubt that Wendy was not going to go softly on her. She fired up her PC, logged on and started her electronic diary. It didn’t take long to set a repeated appointment, every hour, on the hour, titled ‘See Wendy’.

She had hardly finished doing this when the first appointment flashed up on the screen. This was it, she was going to have to offer herself, and, however much both parties knew the score, she was going to have to at least pretend that she was willing. On unsteady legs she got up and went over to stand beside Wendy’s desk. Wendy was on the phone and appeared not to notice her so she had no clue as to how she was supposed to stand, or rather, not stand. Wendy had told her to bend over and ask for punishment, but, again, how was she to position herself? Facing Wendy was obviously wrong but facing away was a bit too like waving her butt in Wendy’s face. Riven by indecision, torn by trepidation, Jen tried this way and that before Wendy turned and gave her an exasperated look so she just bent over where she was, ending up sideways on to Wendy, straight legged, with her hands upon her knees.

Without breaking her phone call Wendy swung round in her chair, reached out and nudged Jen into a better position; her legs further apart, her head further down, her hands on her shins rather than her knees, and her skirt tucked into its own waistband holding it up and open at the back.

“… Look, Julie, I’ve got to go. Things to do, people to see. I’ll catch up with you when we’re over on the West Coast… See you, bye.” Wendy finished her call and, putting down the phone, turned her attention to Jen. “Well, piglet?”

“Please, Mistress, may I have eight strokes of the paddle?” Jen remembered Wendy’s instruction that she should ask for her punishment.

“And what did you do to deserve punishment?”

“I was late, Mistress.” That one, at least was true.

“And…”

“I marked my blouse, Mistress.” That one was harder; Jen still couldn’t understand where the mark had come from.

“And…”

“I lied, Mistress.” Jen burnt with a sense of injustice, it was bad enough that she was having to go through this painful and humiliating experience, but she hadn’t lied, she really didn’t know where the mark had come from and any attempt to explain this to Wendy just made things worse. The sheer injustice of it all rankled.

“Well, if you behave like a naughty little schoolgirl you’ll get treated like a naughty little schoolgirl. Perhaps this will help you change your ways.”

With a resounding ‘thwapp!’ the paddle landed across Jen’s buttocks. It stung, really stung, but was still manageable, and Jen was able, just, to hold back both the cry of pain, and the tears that wanted to follow. Thwapp! The second stroke was half way down her right thigh; thwapp, the third matching it on the left. Her teeth clenched and her eyes screwed tight shut Jen gripped her calves as the blows continued, hanging desperately on to her self control, fighting the instinct to straighten up, to protect herself, to cry out or, simply, to cry.

“Thwapp! The last stroke fell and Jen’s backside felt like it was on fire. Wendy reached out and ran her fingers across the Jen’s skin, tracing the line where thigh meets buttock; somehow the light, delicate touch was as painful as the paddle had been and Jen winced as the fingers traced out the bruised and battered flesh.

“What do you say, piglet?” Wendy’s voice was soft and gentle.

“I… I don’t know, Mistress.” Jen was seriously perplexed.

“Aren’t you grateful, grateful that I spend my time and energy teaching you the error of your ways, helping you become a good little piglet?”

For a moment Jen was truly shocked; was she really expected to be grateful for being abused like this? However, in this bizarre world she had been thrown into, this world where she was a possession, a slave, a pet, where every aspect of her life was controlled by the whim of her ‘owner’, it would seem that gratitude was required.

“Thank you, Mistress.”

“That’s better. You can stand up now, no, you may not touch your backside, I find it best if the lesson is left to sink in naturally. Oh, and keep your skirt tucked in like that, it will help concentrate the mind. Now, back to your desk, I’m sure you have plenty to do.”

Gingerly, carefully, and fighting the urge to rub her bottom, Jen went and sat back down again. With her skirt tucked up she was sitting directly on her chair and it felt as if she could feel every fibre of the seat cover, the normally soft material harsh against her battered skin. But it was far more than that. Going without panties or bra had made her feel vulnerable, but now, with her skirt up and her bare backside direct against the chair, she felt exposed as well. Although, were anyone to come in to the office, her nudity would be below the desk and she would appear to be appropriately dressed, she felt naked and defenceless. Much as she tried to concentrate on her work the fire from her buttocks demanded attention; every nerve ending seemed alive and, somehow, incredibly, the pain was countered by a different sensation, a tingle, a flutter, a tiny itch from her groin. Could this really be turning her on?

Jen was ploughing her way through the schedule for the upcoming West Coast trip and completely immersed in her work when the diary reminder popped up on her screen; five minutes to nine-o-clock. Nervously she continued typing but made four mistakes in as many words; she couldn’t concentrate knowing that she was going to be paddled again in five, no make that four, minutes time. Still, at least it wasn’t as bad as the flogging that Fran had given her; she’d taken the eight-o-clock punishment without crying out, let alone screaming, and the after effects, as the heat of the punishment faded, had been interesting. She glanced again at the clock, eight fifty nine, time to go.

Tottering a bit on her high heels Jen went over and, as far as possible, arranged herself as she had been before. As soon as she bent over, with the way her skirt was tucked into it’s own waistband and the way she was posed with her feet wide apart, she was acutely aware of how she was displaying her all to anyone who might enter. She was beginning to appreciate the way in which the lack of underwear, the constant nudity back at Wendy’s mansion and the way in which her body was repeatedly being exposed was reinforcing the way in which her body was no longer hers. It was Wendy’s diktat which decided how and when she would be on display, it was Wendy’s whim as to whether her ‘private parts’ remained private and it was Wendy’s  wish that she should be naked far more than she were clothed.

“Ah, piglet, nine-o-clock already? Doesn’t time fly? Now, what do you say?” Wendy put down the file she was working on and turned to the inverted woman bent over beside her.

“Please, Mistress, may I have nine strokes of the paddle?”

“And why do you deserve nine strokes, little piglet?”

“Please, Mistress, I was late, I was slovenly and I lied to you.” The injustice of having to admit to crimes of which she was innocent still rankled but Jen bit it back and braced herself.

“Yes, indeed. Late,” thwapp,  “slovenly”, thwapp,  “liar.” Thwapp. Wendy punctuated her indictment with three swift blows of the paddle. Jen, expecting the more measured pace of her earlier spanking was taken by surprise and nearly lost her balance as her body jerked in response. She’d barely recovered before, thwapp, thwapp, thwapp; three more blows struck making her cry out. There was a pause, a long pause, and every fibre of Jen’s being wanted to scream ‘Just get on with it!’ until, without warning, the last three blows fell. For a moment Jen could only concentrate on keeping herself together. The paddle was gentler than the cane, or crop, or whatever Fran had used and the damage was more dispersed but Jen’s buttocks were once more aglow with a deep fire that centred on her rear but was spreading throughout her loins. She was just regaining control of herself when she felt Wendy’s fingers brushing gently between her thighs, teasingly brushing her pubic hair.

“Thank you, Mistress.” Jen managed, her concentration distracted by the tingling that Wendy’s fingers were causing.

“You’re far too bushy, very unkempt. We need to get this trimmed. Remind me to get that organised” Wendy said in a matter of fact tone. “Ok, that’s enough, back to work.”

Jen straightened up and returned to her desk. Once again her skin seemed super sensitive, and, along with the inner fiery glow that was spreading from her backside, Jen could still feel in her mind the tingling sensation of Wendy’s fingers as they brushed against her pubic hair. Whilst she would never, ever, admit to being turned on she had to admit that the effect of the paddling wasn’t all unpleasant, the initial fire left an afterglow which tingled and tingled. She turned back to her work, anything to distract her from the thoughts that were forming, thoughts that she didn’t want to admit to.

It was just short of ten-o-clock when Sally arrived with the replacement blouse. Jen got up from her desk to change but, when she’d finished and went to sit down again, Wendy stopped her.

“Hmm, five to ten, that’s close enough. I think we’ll have the ten-o-clock spanking right now. Sally, dear, would you do the honours?” Wendy picked up the paddle from her desk and passed it to Sally. Jen, catching the triumphant look on Sally’s face, looked over at Wendy who had sat back in her chair, expectantly. Whatever help Jen had hoped for was not forthcoming and realising that delay would only make things worse, she turned to Sally and bent over clutching her shins as before.

“Well?” Sally’s voice was harsh; there was none of the amusement that Wendy seemed to find.

“Please, Mistress, may I have ten strokes of the paddle.” Jen was unsure how she should be addressing Sally and plumped for ‘Mistress’ as the safest bet.

“And why do you deserve ten strokes?” Sally almost snarled.

“Please Mistress, I was late, I was slovenly and I lied.”

THWAPP! There was no waiting with Sally and she had none of Wendy’s finesse. Jen staggered under the blow and only an iron determination not to break in front of Sally prevented her from crying out.

THWAPP! The second blow was just as hard and Jen was really struggling. Eight more like this and, unrestrained as she was, she really wouldn’t be able to take it.

THWAPP! The third blow broke through the last of Jen’s defences and a cry of pain escaped her. Fortunately Wendy came to her aid.

“Careful, Sally, we don’t want too much damage, there’s seven more hour’s of fun left today and I want piglet here to feel every one of them.”

Sally calmed down but the damage was done and, by the time the tenth blow fell, Jen was sobbing freely. It took some time before she could talk at all and even then her ‘thanks’ was forced out between sobs. When she returned to her desk it took a real effort of will to sit down, and then stay sitting as the touch of the chair burnt deeply. She was still snivelling when Sally left, taking the damaged blouse with her.

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake!” Wendy sounded exasperated. “Look at the mess you’ve made of your makeup. You have ten minutes to go to the bathroom and sort yourself out; go!”

Jen went to the bathroom and washed her face. The day was turning into a nightmare and, each time it took a downturn, somehow Sally was involved. Jen wasn’t sure whether to take it personally or not but, however it was meant, there was no denying the ferocity with which Sally had attacked her backside. Wendy had hurt, really hurt, and had brought tears to her eyes, but there had been a subtlety about it, limiting the pain to what Jen could take, taking her to an edge but not over. Sally, by comparison, was heavy handed and blundering. With a start Jen realised that the clock was ticking, her ten minutes would soon be up, and it made sense to return looking as good as she could. Quickly she repaired the damage and, pinning a smile on her face, returned to the office. Wendy glanced at the clock.

“Nine minutes, it seems that you’re learning.” She laughed.

Maybe it was because Sally had been overzealous, maybe it was the comparison between the two, but the eleven-o-clock session seemed a piece of cake after the brutality of the ten-o-clock. Sure, the ritual of apologising for crimes she hadn’t committed still grated and there was never going to be a dignified way to bend over when your skirt was tucked up, your legs were parted and your bare bottom was open wide to the world, and, though she didn’t have the brutality of Sally, Wendy still left Jen with a well tanned derrière. But for all that it was a punishment that Jen could take, the pain was bearable, and, truth be told, Jen was getting accustomed to the increasingly warm feeling between her legs that accompanied the well warmed bottom.

The midday session was equally uneventful but, come one-o-clock, when Jen bent over and asked if she could have one stroke of the paddle Wendy just laughed.

“My dear piglet, did you really think you would get away with that? Please tell me, what does the clock on the wall say?”

Jen craned her neck and looked up. Sure enough the clock was digital and twenty four hour.

“Thirteen oh one, Mistress.” She replied sheepishly.

“So, how about you asking me again.” Wendy laughed.

“Please, Mistress, can I have thirteen strokes of the paddle.”

“I think I might be able to oblige you, seeing as how you ask so nicely. Now remind me again why you deserve this.”

Jen gritted her teeth and repeated again the litany about lateness, slovenliness, and lying. As the day progressed this was becoming harder and harder, so much of her well being relied on Wendy’s good will and to have her believe that she had ruined the blouse and then lied about it was, despite Wendy’s good humoured teasing, going to hinder, not help, in regaining her trust. What really hurt, far more than the paddle, far more than the humiliating ritual, was that Wendy so obviously thought her to be a silly little girl. With a well stifled inner sigh Jen braced herself for thirteen strokes.

By six-o-clock Jen was thoroughly pissed off with the whole day. Wendy often worked long days and seven or eight-o-clock was not unusual but, please, please let this be a day when she went home at six. For what she hoped was the last time today she got up, went over to Wendy’s desk, bent over and requested the eighteen strokes.

“I think for this last session I want you over my knee; that’s where naughty little piglets like you belong. Come along now.”

Jen, the words ‘naughty little piglet’ still burning in her ears, straightened up and went to drape herself across Wendy’s lap. Wendy took Jen’s arm and twisted it behind her back, holding her firmly. With her other hand Wendy moved Jen’s legs further apart and it could have been coincidence that, when Jen was arranged to Wendy’s satisfaction, Wendy’s hand ended up between Jen’s thighs, mere millimetres away from Jen’s vagina.

“Now then, piglet, have you learnt your lesson?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“And will you be late again?”

“No, Mistress.”

“And will you look after the clothes I provide for you?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“And will you lie to me again?”

“No, Mistress.”

A ball of frustrated fury boiled within Jen. Wendy’s condescension, the way she was being treated like some sort of infant, the way her innocence had been disbelieved and her protestations had led to further punishment, the way in which she was Wendy’s plaything and completely unable to do anything about it, and, to cap it all, the way that Wendy’s hand was positioned so damn close but so damn far that made her want so much to move until it touched and she could work on scratching that growing itch between her legs, all added up to an unbearable degree of anger and it was all Jen could do to prevent herself from throwing an almighty temper tantrum. Nevertheless, she knew that however loudly she screamed It’s just not fair! all she would be doing would be reinforcing the image of the immature little girl, the image she was so keen to lose.

Wendy removed her hand and, almost immediately the first blow fell. Whereas Wendy seemed to have been holding back before, now, possibly because it was going to be the last session of the day, the blows were fast and furious and Jen didn’t have time to catch her breath between one blow and the next. She couldn’t help a series of inarticulate cries of pain and rage and her legs kicked furiously but she was firmly held and the blows just kept coming. Fortunately it didn’t take long before all eighteen had landed and it was all over. Wendy returned the paddle to the draw in her desk and returned her hand to between Jen’s legs. This time there was no nearly about it, her hand was firmly wedged at the top of her thighs with her fingers pushing against Jen’s vagina. As the fire in Jen’s buttocks began to stoke the reciprocal fire in her loins this insistent pressure was just what Jen needed. She was still flexing her thigh and calf muscles in an attempt to ease the pain and that just mean that her groin moved against Wendy’s hand, until, as if by accident her fingers slipped inside.

“Well, piglet, will you behave from now on?” Wendy’s voice was a gentle purr.

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.”

“Good, because it’s time that we were going. Come along now, sort yourself out.” Wendy’s hand was withdrawn and in a heartbeat Wendy had become cool and efficient again and Jen, just as she was starting to climb the hill towards release, was left high and dry. Wendy eased Jen off her lap and, shaking like a leaf in a gale, Jen went back to her desk to shut down her computer. Once everything was put away and Sally had been notified to bring the car to the font door it was time to leave and the two women went to the lift. As they waited Wendy turned to Jen.

“Piglet, haven’t you forgotten something?”

“Sorry, Mistress.” Jen was concerned, what had she forgotten now?

“Your skirt, piglet, sort it out before we get to the lobby.” With a blush Jen realised what Wendy meant, she had got so used to having her skirt lifted at the back she had completely forgotten to restore it to normal and was about to walk through the lobby with her well tanned backside open to all.

As soon as they got in the car Wendy insisted that Jen lift the back of her skirt again. The rich leather of the seats was cool and sensual against her skin; a pleasant contrast to the fire which still burned from her last beating. Jen was concerned that, with the strange ways in which her body was reacting, she might leave embarrassing damp marks.

When they arrived at the mansion Jen followed Wendy in and, as before, they were met at the door by Juanita. Wendy had a short discussion about the evening menu before telling Juanita that Jen was to be taken to the basket again. Jen knew the score and, as Wendy departed into the depths of the house, she undressed, passing her clothes to Juanita and, once naked, turned with her hands behind her back to enable Juanita to fit the cuffs. Juanita took her down to the kitchen and as she settled her in the basket and fastened the leash to its hook she gave Jen a sympathetic smile but it was obvious that she was not going to be able to give any real help.

Jen had not been there long when Sally arrived carrying a set of cordless hair clippers. She unhooked the leash and ordered Jen to stand with her legs apart. She then fitted a guard on the clippers and set to work. The guard she had chosen was quite short and left the hair at little more than a stubble. Jen had trimmed her pubic hair before but never that short and certainly never with a pair set of clippers. The powerful motor vibrating the shears back and forth was making her whole mons vibrate and, inevitably, this started to have an effect on Jen, an effect that did not go unnoticed by Sally.

“Like that, do you? Does it get you all hot and horny?” Sally laughed. Jen kept her silence, she knew that whatever she said to Sally would only inflame matters but she couldn’t deny that the vibrations were getting to her and, as Sally ran the clippers back and forth she couldn’t stop a little sigh. Furthermore she was certain that Sally was taking far longer than was really justified, either she was doing the most thorough trim possible or, more likely, she was playing with Jen, winding her up by turning her on.

Sally removed the guard and used the unprotected clippers to trim round the edges, catching any stray hairs and trimming back to the bikini line. From Jen’s point of view the continued vibrations were now accompanied by nervous anticipation; having someone, especially someone whom she distrusted as much as Sally, using sharp clippers so close to her most delicate areas, was very off-putting.

“That’s enough of that, time for you to go back to your basket.” Sally switched off the clippers, and pulled the leash back towards the hook so that Jen had no option than to follow. Once she was kneeling down again and reattached Sally patted her on the head and flounced off.

Jen snuggled down as best she could and even drifted off to sleep. There was, after all, nothing else to do and the sheer boredom of her captivity was getting her down. She was woken by Juanita shaking her shoulder.

“Chiquita, wake up. The Mistress want you.” Juanita unfastened the lead and helped Jen to her feet. “Quick now, she ask for you.”

Juanita took the lead and led the still sleepy Jen upstairs to the main lounge where Wendy was waiting. As with the previous night she was looking regal, laid full length on a sofa and wearing a silk dressing gown, but tonight, knelt in front of her, facing the sofa, was a woman, naked and with her arms fastened behind her just as Jen’s were. Juanita unclipped the lead and left. As Jen approached Wendy the kneeling woman looked up and Jen saw her face; it was Sally.

“Ah, piglet.” Wendy said.  “It seems I may have done you an injustice. I’ve been reviewing the security footage from this morning. Take a look at this.”

Wendy picked up a remote controller and pressed some buttons. The flat screen television burst into life and, seconds later, Jen saw video footage of herself earlier that morning putting on her make up. The picture wasn’t particularly high quality and the camera’s fish eye lens made the picture distorted but it was still obvious what she was looking at. Then, on the screen, she saw Sally enter and heard her chide Jen for not being ready. Wendy pressed the pause button.

“Now we get to the interesting part. Don’t we, tubby?” Wendy said.

“Yes, Mistress.” Sally replied. Evidently 'tubby' was her pet name.

“And what will piglet see?”

“Me marking the blouse, Mistress.” Sally mumbled.

“Let’s look, shall we?” Wendy pressed start and the video continued. Jen saw herself go back to putting on her makeup and, as soon as she was distracted, Sally leant over the bed and did something with the clothes. The picture wasn’t clear enough to get the full detail but it was now pretty obvious where the mark had come from. Wendy pressed a button and the screen went blank.

“When I asked you if you knew anything about the mark what did you say?” There was an edge creeping in to Wendy’s voice.

“I sad I didn’t know anything, Mistress.” Sally replied.

“You lied, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“And why did you do that?”

“I wanted to get piglet into trouble.” It was as if the words were being forced from Sally.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I wanted to get piglet into trouble.” Sally spoke louder this time, the pain of her confession evident in every word.

“You wanted to get piglet into trouble.” Wendy repeated. “Well, you  certainly managed that. Poor little piglet spent half the day upended getting her bottie smacked, and all because of you.”

Wendy looked up at Jen.

“Well, piglet, as you were the victim of tubby’s little prank I’ve decided that you should choose a suitable punishment for her. I’m sure you would like to administer it yourself;  you know by now the sort of possibilities available and you must have plenty of reasons to come up with something interesting and unusual.”

Jen mind was spinning. Part of her, a huge part of her, just wanted to take the biggest, meanest, implement Wendy could provide and thrash Sally until the blood ran. The bitch, the mean conniving bitch had put her through hell and for what? And then she had it, jealousy was the whole reason behind Sally’s actions and Jen could use that jealousy to punish her. So the green eyed bitch didn’t like being supplanted by Jen, then, far worse than any beating, especially as Sally might well be the masochistic type who would enjoy it, far worse would be to show to Sally how much she had failed, how much Jen was now Wendy’s favourite.

“Please, Mistress.” she replied sweetly. “Please would you let me pleasure you.”

“And what about tubby?” Wendy was curious.

“She can watch.”

For a moment Wendy just looked at Jen, then slowly she began to smile.

“Ah, I think I understand. tubby, move over there, next to the fireplace.” Whilst Sally shuffled across the floor on her knees Wendy reached down and, as gracefully as is possible whilst lying on a sofa, removed her panties and positioned herself so that Jen could kneel between her legs.

This was only the third time that Jen had performed cunnilingus but she was a quick learner and, more importantly, she had already picked up some clues as to Wendy’s particular likes and dislikes. The main thing with Wendy, above all else, was to take things slowly. Jen started kissing just above the knees, just brushing her lips against Wendy’s skin. Slowly, oh so slowly, she progressed up the inner thighs, sometimes teasingly kissing a little higher but immediately returning in a two steps forward, one step back fashion. By the time she reached the groove where the thigh meets the groin she was rewarded by the rich warm scent of Wendy’s arousal, but, even so, she kept away from the centre. She ran playful lines of kisses across Wendy’s lower stomach, skirting the top of her pubic hair before running down either side of her vagina where she added a bit of suction, teasing the skin, pulling it gently with her lips. Once, just once, she let her lips brush the top of Wendy’s labia and was rewarded with a gasp of pleasure before she moved away again. Then she pursed her lips and, holding them just away from Wendy’s sensitive skin, blew gently, letting the jet of air from her lips tease at Wendy’s centre.

“If you don’t stop teasing soon…” Wendy mumbled between clenched teeth.

Jen needed no further urging and, probing with her tongue, got down to business and eased Wendy’s labia apart. The thick flow of Wendy’s juices attested to her high state of arousal but still Jen took a slow approach, running her tongue up and down the lips, probing the grooves in between and  barely flicking at the clitoris on her way past. Each time it seemed to project more, each time it was harder, more swollen until, satisfied that Wendy was really ready, Jen settled down, finding the rhythm, the steady flick, flick, flick that would lift Wendy up, step by step, until she reached heaven.

Within moments Jen could feel the first wave building within Wendy. The tensing muscles, the deeper breathing, the little animal cries were all clues that Jen was careful not to miss. As the wave broke within Wendy Jen followed every movement, keeping her tongue pressed to Wendy’s clitoris, steadily, relentlessly, keeping the rhythm, keeping the pulse and, as Wendy relaxed she stayed with her, never stopping, letting the second wave start building even before the first had subsided. As the second wave grew so Jen increased the intensity, still keeping the steady rhythm and once again she was rewarded as Wendy arched her back, pushing her groin into Jen’s face as hard as Jen was pushing her face into Wendy’s groin. Time and again the waves grew, peaked and receded, Jen’s jaw was aching, she was having trouble breathing but she wasn’t going to slacken, not till she’d reached the very peak, she could feel that this time, this wave was the big one, Wendy was grunting, panting, gasping, her whole body a ball of tension, tension that cried out for release, release that was so close, so close, so…

“Oh my God… oh my God… oh my god… OH MY GOD!” Wendy’s shout echoed as the tension broke in a glorious explosion, her whole body released into ecstasy. Jen swallowed as her mouth filled with ejaculate, and she tried to stay with Wendy as her body thrashed about but Wendy had had enough, was well and truly satisfied and, unable to take any more, pushed Jen away.

As an exhausted Jen slumped on the floor waiting she was quietly satisfied. How it must have hurt Sally to have to watch Wendy with another woman and, more importantly, with another woman who could make her come like that. Yeah, suffer, bitch! she thought to herself. Her jaw might ache, her backside might still be suffering, but she could still show Sally who was best.

Wendy rolled over and purred. “God you’re good, you really know how to do that, don’t you? Come up here.”

Jen got on the sofa next to Wendy who wrapped her arms around her and cuddled her close. Jen was a little concerned that her mouth was covered with Wendy’s juices but Wendy didn’t seem to mind and was kissing her long and hard. Eventually she pulled away a bit.

“You’re a clever little piglet, aren’t you?” Wendy glanced over Jen’s shoulder at Sally still knelt by the fireplace. “I think someone’s nose is right out of joint. Maybe she’ll leave you alone from now on.”

Wendy shifted so that there was more room on the sofa for Jen and she didn’t need to hold on so tight just to stop Jen from falling off. She leaned down and kissed Jen’s breasts, her teeth teasing the nipples. Meanwhile her hands slid down Jen’s side to her waist, to her hips, to her groin. As Wendy’s fingers slid through the freshly trimmed hair Jen was aware of how much more sensitive she was, how the touch of Wendy’s fingers was causing delicious ripples and when Wendy’s fingers reached her groin, she opened her thighs to make it easy. Wendy cupped her hand over Jen’s mons, her middle finger easing it’s way inside.

“Ooh, look who’s all turned on.” Wendy laughed. “It looks like someone quite enjoyed kissing my pussy.”

Jen blushed, her motives had been survival, getting one up on Sally, trying to put herself back in Wendy’s good books but Wendy was right, even if she didn’t want to admit it, her body couldn’t hide its reaction, there was a definite eroticism to performing cunnilingus and there was pleasure in giving as well as receiving. Just how much pleasure she didn’t dare admit to herself, let alone Wendy.

In the meantime the steady circular motion of Wendy’s hand was working its magic, and the tension that had built up over the day was being brought to the forefront. Wendy had returned to teasing Jen’s nipples with her teeth and Jen would have had to have been made of ice not to respond. Jen could feel her climax starting, nothing in the scale or magnitude of that which she had given Wendy but a very welcome release after a long and difficult day.

“And is little piglet going to come for her Mistress?” Wendy broke off from Jen’s nipples and whispered in her ear.

Jen knew that the ‘little piglet’ should rankle, should annoy her but she felt so good she really couldn’t work up the anger.

“Yes, Mistress, thank you, Mistress.” and, smooth as silk the wave slipped through her, the tension fell away, release had come at last. “Thank you, Mistress, thank you.”

The two women lay together basking in the warm afterglow. Neither spoke, neither felt the need, the soft touch of skin against skin was more than sufficient. Jen was vaguely aware that Sally was still knelt glowering in the corner but that was a problem for another day; all she wanted was to relax, drift away, safe in the arms of her lover.

With a start Jen pulled herself up. Safe in the arms of her lover! How could she think that? Her wrists were still fastened behind her back and her ‘lover’ had spent the day abusing her. Just because she was basking in some sort of post coital glow didn’t mean that her situation had changed in any material way. She was still a slave, still the plaything of this woman who ruled her life.

Wendy sensed that Jen’s mood had broken, that the soft languorous woman of a few moments before had become tense again. Not that she minded, Jen had made remarkable progress in a very short time; training her was almost too easy, almost too lacking in challenge. She sat up and pressed the bell push that would summon Juanita.

“Right, piglet, it’s your bedtime. Come along now, I can’t lie around here all night.” Juanita arrived to take Jen away. The two women went back down to the basement and Juanita locked Jen in her room. Jen got on her bed, massaging her shoulders; it was all very well Wendy insisting on her having her wrists behind her back all the time but it wasn’t too comfortable in the long run. Jen wondered if it would always be like that. More immediately she wondered how long the lights were going to be left on. Sleep would be difficult in their harsh white glare.

Suddenly the door opened, and Jen saw Sally pushed into the room before it was closed again. Sally was still manacled and she stood next to the bed looking sheepish.

“I guess this is Madam’s idea of a joke, it looks like I’m your room mate tonight.”

“Here, let me get those off you.” Jen sat up on the bed and reached round to unfasten the Velcro strips which held the wrist straps together. Thinking furiously she wondered how to play this. Magnanimous would probably play best. Sally was probably still feeling hurt and it would do neither of them any good to replay the row throughout the night. She was still fiddling with the straps when the lights went out and the room was plunged into total darkness. She finished freeing the cuffs and, dropping them on the floor, guided Sally to the bed.

“You had better lie down. There’s not going to be too much room for the two of us.” Jen added.

Working by touch the two women got under the covers and, forced by the size of the bed, cuddled together.

“I guess you think I’m some kind of a bitch.” Sally said once they had settled down.

“Well, yeah, but I guess I would have felt the same way if I were in your shoes.” Jen conceded.

“Thanks. I try so hard to hate you but you’re really nice.”

“I’m just trying to survive. I’m not here by choice.” Jen replied. “So tell me, how long have you been with Wendy? What’s your story?”

Late in to the night the two women chatted, finding that they had more in common than they thought and, now that she’d got over her jealousy Sally was really helpful, letting Jen in on lots of secrets, ways in which she could avoid trouble. Noticeably she didn’t give any clues as to how to escape and, when Jen gently quizzed her on this she ducked the question, claiming that she was in enough trouble already.

At last, dog tired, it was time to sleep. Jen, as a way of putting the seal on their new found relationship reached out and kissed Sally who responded and a simple goodnight kiss  quickly turned into something more. It was Sally who broke away.

“Not tonight, Jen, were both far too tired and it’s far too late, but thanks, really thanks.” Sally whispered.

“You’re welcome. Goodnight Sally”

“Goodnight, Jen.”

Wrapped in each others arms the two women drifted off to sleep.