Gwen picked her cell phone out of her handbag with the irritation she reserved for anything which interrupted her weekly shopping expedition, but her mood brightened when her friend of many years, Julie, came on the line, and suggested a coffee. She agreed readily.
Half an hour later they were sitting outside the store enjoying a latte and a biscuit, chatting idly. Then Julie quite suddenly broached a subject Gwen had not been expecting at all, but one which had been uppermost in her thoughts for a long time.
'How's your sex-life, girl?' she asked, abruptly.
'Er...well,' started Gwen, reddening.
'We friends, or what?'
'Of course,' she replied, stirring her coffee vigorously. 'As you ask, it's gone a bit...humdrum. In need of...well, something...' She tailed off lamely.
Julie was looking at her with a peculiar intensity. 'I have a bunch of friends who might be able to help. I understand Roger is going away for a time?'
It was true. Gwen's husband was due to go off to the Middle East on business in the next few days, and would be away for several months. Even without his forthcoming absence, she was feeling empty - as if something was missing from her life. Then, only last week, she had been sorting through cupboards, preparing his things for the journey, when she came across some videos - old ones, nothing very special, she thought at first, except that one took her eye - it was 'The Story of O.'
She watched it, fascinated. Not pornography, by any means, but she was soon so wet she had to go and change her panties, as 'O' was chained, whipped and brutally sodomised, but gave such a show of haughty disdain, pleasure even.
But Julie was waiting for a reply.
'What sort of friends?'
'I have seen it in you - friends who can give you what I think you may crave, Gwen,' she said, 'I think you know what I mean.'
'Are you...? I mean...' started Gwen, but Julie cut her off. 'Let me put someone in touch with you, when Roger has gone, eh?'
No more was said, and Roger duly departed the following week. Gwen was sat at her reception desk the following day, when a tall stranger walked in, wearing a casual leather jacket and chinos. He had a square chin and piercing grey eyes.
He walked directly up and shook her hand. 'I am John. You have been expecting me, I think.'
She didn't know what to say at the direct approach, but knew immediately that this was the man Julie had sent.
He saw that she was looking for a response, and said, quite formally, 'If you would care to dine with me, I will send a package to your home tomorrow, and expect you tomorrow evening. Good day to you.' Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked out. Gwen was speechless.
Next day was Saturday, and Gwen could hardly wait to see what the 'package' was all about. If it came! Sure enough, about four in the afternoon, a messenger appeared, with a long box, fastened with a red ribbon, and a small shoe-box.
She opened the shoe-box first and an envelope fell out. It contained a card, written in beautiful script. It read: Remove any vestige of hair on your body, and wear what is in these boxes, nothing else. I will have you collected at eight.
Beneath the envelope were a pair of white sandals, with very high metallic needle heels.
She put them down and set the long box down on the sofa, impatiently tearing open the ribbon. When she lifted the lid, and the tissue below it, she saw it contained a white silk garment. Nervously, she took it out, and held it up, so that it fell out in front of her. It was a long soft silk sheath-dress, long-sleeved and high-necked, which looked as if it would cover her decorously, were it not for the facts that it appeared to be a very tight fit, and that it consisted of very flimsy material. She found herself wondering how on earth she could wear something like this 'and nothing else.'
After a chat with Julie on the telephone, however, she felt renewed confidence and hummed cheerfully as she went about her toilet, until she came to the point of shaving, something she had never done before. She had to concentrate hard, so as not to nick her pussy-lips, but found herself getting aroused as she made sure that every last remains of hair was gone from her whole pubic area. When she had finished, and oiled herself thoroughly, she decided she loved the smooth feel of it, and wondered why she hadn't done it before. She took care with her make-up, applying just enough, then brushed her long dark hair to a silken sheen. Then she put on the shoes, and tried walking in them, up and down her lounge - they were a good deal higher than she was used to, but she felt sexy in them - good.
It was time to put on the dress. She put it over her head and wriggled her arms into the tight sleeves, which ended in loops for her middle fingers. Then she wriggled the fine silk down over her breasts, and pulled it down over her hips, letting it fall with a gentle swish down to the floor. She smoothed it down around her body and felt the delightful sensation of the cool silk against her shaven pubes. She walked to the full-length mirror in her passageway, and admired her image. Her nipples could not have shown more clearly had she been naked, and, when she turned and looked over her shoulder, the outline of her rounded buttocks was all-too obvious. The skirt was pencil-slim, so that she was only able to take tiny steps when she walked, and the outline of her long legs showed clearly that she wore no panties.
The doorbell rang, and a uniformed man asked her to follow him, then helped her into the back seat of a large black Mercedes.
Ten minutes later, she walked self-consciously into a restaurant, in the most exclusive part of town. The lighting was not very bright, but she had the impression that other diners stopped what they were doing to watch her as she was shown to John's table.
He rose to greet her, and complimented her on her appearance, asking her if she had followed all his instructions.
'Of course,' she said.
'Good,' he replied, 'But now I have something else for you. I want you to put this in your cunt.' With that he handed her an egg-shaped device, with a string attached to one end.
She didn't know whether she was most shocked by the suggestion, or by his sudden use of the forbidden word, which she had never heard her husband use, but something made her take the egg from his hand.
'Now,' he said.
She looked around her in panic.
'Nobody is looking. Do it.' It was an order, and she knew she should obey.
It was no easy matter to pull up her tight skirt under the table cloth, as surreptitiously as possible, and a her eyes widened as she pushed the big egg into her vaginal orifice. An involuntary, 'Oooh' escaped her lips.
'Good,' he said, 'Pull your skirt back down.'
Later, after they had ordered, and were waiting for the first course, he reached into his pocket, and she heard a little click. Immediately, a sensation of rippling pleasure ran right through her inner core, and it was all she could do not to cry out. Thankfully, he turned the remote off again after a few seconds, but she then remonstrated with him for not telling her that the egg was remote-controlled. He smiled, 'You will learn many things, Gwen, if, after tonight, you consent to be trained.'
The rest of the meal passed pleasantly, but she was ever conscious of the egg in her vagina, and the waiter leered at her nipples every time he served their table, once even brushing his arm against her breast as he collected a plate. John appeared to enjoy the attention, saying, 'He'd love to fuck you, just look at the way he looked at you.'
After the meal, John helped her from the table in a very gentlemanly fashion, and the chauffeur was awaiting them in the foyer. When they got into the back of the car the driver started and drove off slowly. John turned to Gwen, and took her in his arms.
'You did well, Gwen,' he said, then kissed her hard. She responded fiercely, probing with her tongue, while he pulled hard at one of her nipples through the thin silk of her dress. It hardened to his touch, and she felt his cock harden against her leg at the same time. She was on fire, and when he pulled down his zipper to release his eager cock, she leaned down to take his length deep into her mouth, helping him pump with all his might until he came with great shuddering spurts, deep into her throat.
He had not forgotten her either, and turned on the remote one last time as he was in the throes of orgasm, so that Gwen could abandon herself to the joys of the 'egg.' But it was no substitute for the real thing, and she knew she was going to have to wait for that now.
Later, she took the device out of her vagina, and gave it back to him.
The driver had neither spoken nor looked back throughout the whole episode. Now he stopped outside Gwen's apartment block.
John got out, walked around and opened her door. Helping her out of the car, he said, 'Gwen, you have given me great pleasure this evening. If you do not wish to see me again, I shall understand, however. But if you now wish to be trained, and move to a new level with me, now is the time to say so.'
'Oh, yes,' she heard herself saying.
'Then I will be in touch tomorrow. Go now, and sleep well.'
He made no attempt to ask himself in for a coffee, or any other ploy to spend the night with her, she noted. This was a man who did not resort to ploys. She went, and slept.
Next morning, Sunday, Gwen pottered about the house, in tee-shirt and jeans, still bemused by what had happened the night before. How could she have worn such a dress? And given head to a complete stranger? And inserted the 'egg?'
At around midday, a messenger arrived, with a big suitcase and an envelope. On the envelope was written the message: Read before opening suitcase.
She opened the envelope, and there was a longish letter inside. She read it.
Dearest Gwen,
As you have consented to be trained, here are your instructions, and rules:-
