Procured

Sandra, my wife, and our friends Lucy and Jimmy, were deep in discussion with Katia when I got home from work one day. They were sitting around the kitchen table, over a pot of tea, and the talk sounded animated.

'Can anyone join in?' I asked.

'Of course,' said Sandra, 'Lucy would like Katia to find them a slave too – she thinks it would be fairer on Jimmy.'

But Katia was trying to make herself understood, and her English still being quite limited, she was finding it rather frustrating. I always did best at following her odd linguistic quirks, and said, 'Explain to me, Katia!'

Her big grey eyes regarded me solemnly, and she said, 'Mark, I can find someone for Jimmy, yes, but to Romania I must go, and I will be in danger if I do not be owned.'

'But Katia, you know you are our slave. Are you not happy here?'

'Oh yes, Mark, I am very happy, but I must have a mark to show. You must… how do you say?'

I caught on suddenly, 'You want me to have you tattooed?'

'Not tattooed, no, the other thing.'

'You want to be branded?'

Lucy was licking her lips, her little silver stud darting in and out, and said, 'Mmmm, Mark, why not?'

Sandra looked more doubtful, and asked, 'But wouldn't it hurt terribly?'

'Yes, I think so,' said Katia, 'but I should love to have you do it to me, then I should be truly your slave, no?'

Jimmy was trying to catch my attention, 'I've got an idea,' he said, excitedly, 'it's something I've seen on the Internet.'

It transpired that Jimmy, who was very much into surfing the Net, had found a BDSM site, which offered a branding service – the problem was, we would have to go to Frankfurt.

A couple of weeks later, we had sent the details of the iron we wanted making to the German club. We wanted to have Katia branded with our initials, and some amusement transpired when we realised that our initials could make her look as if she was bought at Marks and Spencer! All-in-all, 'SM' seemed a nice combination, carrying with it the spice of a possible double meaning, so we had asked for the two letters to be entwined.

I was proud of the girls as they walked around the airport lounge, and all eyes were on them when we boarded the aircraft. I was often given to wondering what people would think if they possessed my knowledge, that the three of them were stark naked under their outer garments. When Katia stretched up to put her bag in the overhead locker, anyone close enough was treated to brief glimpse of her shaven pussy up her little flared skirt. She came then and sat between Sandra and me, and I saw that her eyes were shining with excitement. Jimmy and Lucy were in the row behind, and Jimmy reached through the narrow gap between the seat-backs, and touched Katia on the cheek. She responded by gently biting his finger.

We landed at Frankfurt's busy airport, and a minibus was awaiting us, as promised, a brute of a guy called Heine behind the wheel. He seemed to have very little English, but to our astonishment, Katia seemed at home in German, and chatted to him as we were driven around a diabolically hectic ring-road system, and plunged into what appeared to be a red-light district.

We drew up outside what seemed to be a large Commercial Centre, then all got out, with our minimal luggage (we had only brought enough for an overnight stay), and were taken into a reception area, like that of a modern hotel. And a hotel it turned out to be – we were shown to two spacious rooms, something we hadn't expected, and told to wait until Marlies came to fetch us.

Sandra and I had hardly finished inspecting the stylish facilities, when Marlies appeared. She was by no means the expected stereotypic German blonde. She was, in fact, a slim, dark-haired woman of about forty-five, her hair tied up in an elaborate knot to show her elegant long neck, which sported a wide silver choker. She was dressed in an expensive-looking black velvet dress, with a flared skirt, black seamed stockings, and very high heels. She greeted Sandra and I in perfect English, and then said, 'So this is Katia, who will be marked?'

I nodded, and she held out a hand to our slave, who stood and allowed herself to be inspected by the newcomer.

'Hmmm,' she said, 'she is very nice, I think. You are right to have her marked.'

Whilst I was considering the import of that remark, she went on, 'Have you thought about where she should be marked?'

I had vaguely thought that her buttocks might be the place, but before I could say anything, Marlies raised her skirt, revealing her stocking-tops and the secret white flesh above, and there, on her upper thigh, just alongside a neatly shaven mound, was a deeply-scored brand, an image of a two crossed whips. It looked as if it had been done long ago.

'That's beautiful,' I said, and just then Lucy and Jimmy came in.

'Oops, sorry, did we interrupt something?' said Lucy.

'Not at all,' said Marlies, introducing herself.

Jimmy said he thought the best place for Katia's brand was on the buttocks, but Lucy said she thought it might be best to put it just above the cleft of the buttocks – 'then she can show it in some dresses.'

I liked that idea, and Marlies thought it had merit too, and so it was decided.

Marlies then said, 'I suppose that, if you've been on our website, you'll know we do it with some ceremony. Have dinner, then I'll send someone with your costumes about ten, OK?'

We went out and found a Turkish restaurant and dined reasonably well, then were back in plenty of time. Katia was getting visibly nervous when a knock came on the door and two girls came in carrying baskets. Another girl was delivering a similar basket next door to Jimmy and Lucy as I let them in.

One basket contained clothing for Sandra and myself, they said, and the other one was for Katia. They said we should bee ready in fifteen minutes.

Our clothing was simplicity itself. Sandra's consisted of a long white, silky dress, probably nylon, which would cover her modestly enough, with a high neck and long sleeves. She decided to wear nothing but that and her heels. My own was a simple 'monastic' hooded robe, also in white. The intention was obviously a quasi-religious atmosphere.

Katia was given a long black dress made of rough hemp, tied at the waist with a length of rope. She was also supplied with heavy chains to shackle her ankles and a set of handcuffs.

She put on the dress, grimacing a little at the feel of the rough hemp cloth against her skin, and I clasped the chains to her ankles, and cuffed her wrists behind her. Sandra had slipped into her dress, and a knock on the door announced that Jimmy and Lucy were ready.

We didn't have much to say as we waited, but then another knock came at the door. It was Marlies again, this time dressed in a long white gown rather like that given to Sandra and Lucy, but in it, she was transformed, statuesque, her breasts thrusting out proudly at the thin material.

'Ready?' she asked, and looked at Katia approvingly. Then she turned on her elegant heel, and let us all follow her to the lift. We all got in, and Marlies took a key from a chain she had around her neck and put it into a slot. The lift descended, way below the public floors.

We emerged into a candlelit cavern-like space, where a deep-voiced, barely-musical chant filled the air, and a smell like incense matched it.

Marlies said something in German as we approached a black velvet curtain, and two men, dressed like myself, came out. They stood either side of Katia, who by now was wide-eyed with terror, and had started to cry quietly, and marched her along a short corridor, her chains making movement extremely difficult, so that she stumbled and had to be supported by them. A door at the end of the corridor opened, and a tall man was framed in the doorway, making an impressive figure. He was well over six feet tall, and well-muscled, was stripped to the waist, and wore only a pair of tight trousers and leather boots.

'Halt,'

he

said, and Katia's two jailers stopped obediently. The other man came and looked her over carefully, running his hands over her body lecherously, then turned to us, as we had been following. He spoke to me in perfect English, 'You are Mark, I think?'

'Yes.'

'And this is Katia, who is your slave, and who you will have branded, yes?'

'Yes.'

'I will pay you ten thousand euros for her. It is, I think, a generous offer.'

I was taken aback, and lost for words, but blurted out, 'No, she's not for sale, we've just come to have her branded.'

The big man smiled, 'OK, I will do it – never let it be said that Klaus goes back on his word.' Then he turned to Katia,

'Komm, meine schätzchen.'

He seized her by the hair and dragged her through the door, protesting at this sudden rough treatment, her chains clanking on the concrete floor.

We all went through into what seemed to be a torture chamber. There were ring-bolts set into rough stone walls, and the ceiling was supported by huge wooden columns, which had hooks and rings let into them. Light was supplied by means of a lot of big candles. In the middle of the floor was a huge iron brazier, with red-hot coals glowing merrily, giving off a lot of radiant heat.

Marlies now asked me quietly if I had definitely decided where Katia was to be marked, and I told her yes. She then took charge and pulled the frightened girl to one of the wooden columns, where she undid the handcuffs, and, raising her hands above her head, chained her wrists high to the column. Only then did she unfasten the clasps at the shoulders off her dress, so that it fell to her waist, then she untied the rope around her waist, revealing Katia's lovely nakedness, her narrow waist and gorgeous rounded buttocks. Klaus ran his hand around above the cleft in her arse cheeks, establishing the exact spot, and then showed me the iron, still cold, that they had prepared for me. I nodded my approval, and he put it into the fire.

Katia was looking at me while all this was going on, just saying, 'Oh, oh, oh.' But I looked away, and when my gaze lighted on Lucy, her eyes were excited beyond belief. We exchanged a look which said everything, and she had a hand between her legs, pushing the thin material of the dress into her doubtless soaked slit. Sandra, beside me, was breathing heavily too.

Klaus said,

'So, fertig,'

and, taking the iron from the fire, took the two paces needed to reach Katia's body, and plunged the almost red-hot tip onto the precise spot below the small of her arched back.

Simultaneously, there was a terrible sizzling of scorching flesh, an awful, ear-splitting scream from Katia, and the sweet smell of burning meat. Katia slumped down in a faint, suspended by her bonds, and didn't come round until we had taken her back to the room, and dressed her sore back. She would sleep on her stomach for a few nights.

Three weeks later, Katia was ready to fly to Romania. By now, she had our trust – we somehow knew she would return, even if, on the face of it, it seemed stupid to send her off all by herself, with a purseful of money, to her own country. We saw her off at the airport, watched heads turning as men and women alike saw her long legs, perched, as ever, on four-inch heels, proudly strutting across the departure hall. She was much changed from the mousy creature who had first approached us, looking for lodging, those few months ago.

Two days later, Katia emailed us from the house of the Mayor of Navodari, her birthplace, to say she had found someone who she felt sure Jimmy and Lucy would like. She carefully made no mention of bringing her as a slave, but said that the person 'was very eager to please.' She said she had been having problems with 'some people' but she had 'shown them her mark, and they had understood.' I emailed back, telling her to come back as soon as possible, knowing it was probably unnecessary.

The next contact we had from Katia was a brief telephone call from Bucharest airport, telling us what flight she would be on. The call was cut off, but we got the gist of it, and set off for the airport a couple of hours later to meet her. We told Lucy and Jimmy not to bother coming, as it would have meant bringing two cars, and Jimmy was working anyway.

The flight was delayed half an hour, so we had a coffee while we waited, then stood with all the other people, anxious families awaiting sons and daughters, chauffeurs awaiting businessmen, assorted drivers holding up signs with names stencilled on them. We saw Katia's platinum blonde head amongst the crowd, and, unlike many, she had no trolley, but carried her small suitcase. Alongside her, carrying an even smaller one, was a shorter, dark-haired, olive-skinned girl, with almost Indian features. She had a longish nose, large, deep brown eyes, and her jet-black hair was caught up in a pony-tail, but came down almost to her waist. She wore faded jeans, sneakers and a denim jacket which didn't match her jeans. Beside Katia's pleated plaid skirt, silk blouse, leather jacket and heels, she looked very much the poor relation.

Katia looked delighted to see us, and after embracing us warmly, introduced us, 'This is Nadia, she is my cousin.'

Nadia looked terrified, having been through the ordeal of the customs and immigration procedures, but Katia had helped a lot, and we were soon in the car, speeding into town.

During the trip, it became clear that Nadia spoke little English, rather like Katia when she had first arrived, and she was going to need time to acclimatise.

When we arrived at Lucy's door, she greeted us, and asked Katia what Nadia had been told about what her role would be. Katia said she had told her that she could expect to be whipped a lot, because Lucy was very strict.

'And she still wanted to come and work here?' asked Lucy.

'She was abused by her father, her grandfather and her two brothers, at home in Romania, from when she was twelve, and now they want to sell her to a Sheik in Saudi Arabia. I think she will be better off with you, no?'

'How did you get her away, Katia?' asked Sandra.

'There are some things you do not ask,' she said.

Lucy asked us if we could stay and help her, especially Katia, as it was going to be difficult to communicate with her new slave, so we took off our coats and followed them when Lucy took Nadia by the hand and led her upstairs to the room she had designated as her bedroom.

Nadia looked pleased with the simple, light, airy room, with its ample, mirrored wardrobe and en-suite shower-room. She smiled for the first time, and then lost the expression when Lucy turned and slipped the old denim jacket off her shoulders, and pointed to the belt holding up her jeans. But Nadia knew what was wanted of her – it wasn't the first time she had been told to strip – and she unbuckled the belt and wriggled out of the jeans, revealing slim, shapely legs, clad in pink cotton panties. When she pulled off her tee-shirt, her bra was an unflattering white cotton one, probably bought on the market. Lucy tutted and came up behind her, unfastening the bra, then slipping the straps off her shoulders. She had lovely, though not overlarge, firm breasts, with prominent aureola and long nipples.

'Mmmm,' said Lucy, 'Jimmy's going to like these.' I was getting hard just looking at her, and Sandra sensed as much, coming close and stroking my cock through my trousers.

Lucy now pointed to Nadia's panties, and the girl hooked her thumbs into the waistband and pulled them down, over her hips, so that they fell around her sneakers. She had a virtual forest of pubic hair cloaking her mound, wisps of it curling around right below her pussy.

'That's horrible,' said Lucy, and, lifting one of Nadia's arms, noted that her underarms, too, had vestiges of hair that needed attention. She turned to Sandra, 'Will you let Katia attend to her, while we have a drink, Sandra?'

'Certainly, darling,' she said, then to Katia, 'Bring her down and show her to us, when you've finished, will you, dear?'

With that, Sandra, Lucy and I went down to the lounge, where we poured ourselves whisky, and put on some music.

Half an hour later, Jimmy still wasn't home, but Katia brought a transformed Nadia downstairs, a timid smile on her face. She had her wrapped in a silky black kimono, her black hair now brushed out to a great silken mane, coming right down to her waist.

With something of a flourish, Katia presented her protégée, whipping off the kimono, to leave her standing in a pair of furry, high-heeled, bedroom mules, and nothing else but a delicate silver chain that Katia had clipped around her slender waist. She was now completely clean-shaven, and her neat young slit looked like that of a child now that she was devoid of all hair, but she had a knowing look about her face and stance which belied the youthfulness of her body – and when Lucy had her bend over, she obediently spread her arse-cheeks with both hands. She knew what was required of her, and I couldn't resist reaching up from where I sat on the sofa and probing the entrance to her anus with my fingers. She didn't flinch, and her arsehole was dilated – it was clear this was no virgin orifice, and she was going to need no introduction to anal sex.

'Do you like her?' Katia asked Lucy.

'She is lovely,' said Lucy, 'and Jimmy will be very pleased. If you would all like to come to dinner tomorrow, when Jimmy will be home earlier, we shall have a little ceremony.'

Next evening, we decided to dress up for the occasion, knowing, more-or-less, what Lucy had in mind. I wore a white polo-necked shirt under a blue blazer and grey flannels, and was pleased to see my two female companions looking their best. Sandra had shed ten years since Katia had joined us, and looked wonderful, having grown her hair longer, and invested in porcelain nails. She wore a yellow silk halter-neck dress, light as a breeze, so that her ample breasts were barely concealed, and I knew she wore nothing at all under it. Katia had had Sandra lace her into one of her cruel corsets, which constricted her already tiny waist even more, and pushed her firm little breasts upwards on their platform bra. The corset also had the effect of making her buttocks more prominent as she walked. She had attached black shiny stockings to the long garter straps, and wore over all this a translucent red dress, and matching red heels. I got an instant erection just looking at her.

When we got to the house, Jimmy answered the door, and said that Lucy and Nadia were preparing dinner. He looked appreciatively over my two companions, and we all sat down with a drink.

When Lucy appeared, I whistled, and she did a twirl. She had 'dressed to stay at home,' of course, and didn't have to worry about being seen in public. Ever the exhibitionist, she wore a simple long black fishnet tube-dress, with a big, heavy silver chain around the waist. It consisted of inch-and-a-half mesh, and through it, every detail of her body was visible – her tiny tits, with their metal rings hanging from the long nipples, the lewd metal ring depending from her clit-hood, to which she had clipped a light chain, looping around to attach to the pendant at her navel.

'Bloody hell, Lucy,' I said, 'and you expect us to eat, with you looking like that?'

She smiled her secret smile, as Nadia came in carrying a tray of food. Nadia was dressed in a traditional 'maid's outfit' – a little black silk dress, with a frilly white apron, long white gloves, black seamed stockings, and black stilettos.

'Nadia is going to serve us,' said Lucy, 'then she must be introduced to a little discipline, I think.'

'Has she been bad?' asked Katia, naively.

'Of course not,' said Lucy, and offered no further explanation.