Return to Sessia

The next morning started off much like any morning. I was roused from my slumber and taken to Lexi so that she could brush my teeth, shampoo my hair, wash me, shave me and see to all of my grooming needs.

However, after I was all clean, groomed and smelling nice, I was intercepted by Gretchen, Victoria and a very attractive, blonde woman, with an overtly friendly smile not normally seen on anyone other than Hollywood actresses or high-pressure salespeople.

"Lexi, I need you and Diane to hold up," Gretchen said assertively, "You can't leave just yet."

The blonde woman was dressed in a very stylish charcoal grey skirt-suit with a knee length skirt and three-button tailored blazer. Her counterfeit smile along with her corporate-style dress code made me think that she might be a lawyer. I won't go into a long discussion of what I think of lawyers, but the instant I thought she might be a lawyer, I took a step backwards, putting extra distance between me and her.

Gretchen gestured to the blonde (possible lawyer) lady and explained, "This is Olivia. She'll be taking Diane's place today in front of the TV cameras."

Lexi and I must have both looked as confused as I felt, as Gretchen then elaborated, "Lexi, you'll be spanking Olivia. Olivia will be impersonating Diane for the crowds. Just treat her as if she was Diane and after you're done, Victoria will take her up to my hotel room."

I kind of supported the idea of getting out of yet another painful spanking, however I couldn't wrap my mind around the idea of this woman getting away with impersonating me in front of a large crowd of people (including the European media) who knew exactly what I looked like.

"She can't impersonate me," I protested softly. "No one will believe it!"

Olivia took three steps closer to me, her artificial-looking smile still intact.

"Really?" she asked amiably, "And why wouldn't anybody believe that I'm Diane Schlank?"

I looked her up and down, realizing for the first time that we had a lot in common (at least as far as physical appearances were concerned). However there were a number of discrepancies that a careful observer was certain to pick up on.

I realized I was looking up at her. The woman was about three inches taller than I was.

"You've got to be about six feet tall," I explained. "I'm only five foot, nine. Somebody is bound to notice that."

Her smile never wavered for a second, and without breaking eye contact with me, she slipped out of her shoes. Suddenly I was no longer looking up at her. With both of us in our bare feet, we were the same height.

Okay, I suppose I should have seen

that one

coming. I haven't worn shoes in so long I suppose I just stopped thinking about them.

"Her hair," Lexi said, "Diane's hair is short. Olivia's hair is much longer." And then for added emphasis, Lexi pointed at Olivia's shoulder-length haircut."

"I think I can solve that problem, too," Olivia said with a playful smirk. Then she reached up and carefully removed her long, blonde hair. Apparently her carefully styled hair was just a wig.

Underneath her wig, her real hair was about as short as mine. Although her real hair was butterscotch blonde. I was a light golden blonde. The difference would definitely be noticeable.

Olivia set her wig down on one of the locker room benches and said, "I think it's time we switched clothes." And then she began to unbutton her blazer.

"Um, Diane isn't even

wearing

any clothes," Lexi interjected.

"She's wearing this," Victoria said as she tugged on my slave collar. "Olivia will need to wear it if she wants to impersonate Diane."

Much to my surprise, Victoria rammed a key into the padlock that locked my collar on and for the first time since the airport, my neck was free of the collar.

"But...mistress..." I stammered. Sessian law demanded that I wear my slave collar at all times. If anyone saw that I had removed it, I could get into a lot of trouble.

"We're not going to get caught, you silly girl," Victoria admonished me. "Now hurry up and get dressed in Olivia's clothes!"

Gretchen and Victoria really should have informed me in advance about their plans. It isn't easy for a naturally submissive slave-girl to just disobey the rules, take off her slave collar and cover up her nudity. Sessian law is very specific! Slaves are never allowed to wear clothes!!

Gretchen smacked my naked backside very hard when I hesitated to pick up Olivia's discarded clothing.

"Get dressed

now, slave"

Gretchen growled. "That's an order!!"

That snapped me out of my paralysis. When a slave hears her angry mistress giving them an order it tends to override everything else...even Sessian law.

I picked up Olivia's panties and began to step into them, and looked Olivia up and down again. I was impressed at how much her body looked like mine. Her waist was narrow like mine. Her stomach was flat and firm like mine. Her legs were firm and well-toned. Her vulva was shaved clean. Even her breasts seemed to be the same size and shape as mine.

"Her nipples are a bit paler than mine," I observed, finding a slight flaw in her disguise.

"Are they?"

Much to my surprise, Olivia grabbed her own nipples and began to pinch and pull on her poor pink nipples. She was very brutal with them, and it must have hurt, but Olivia never once whimpered or panted or groaned in pain.

And when she was finished the nipples did look darker, no doubt due to the increased blood flow that she had stimulated.

I continued to get dressed in Olivia's clothes and was shocked at how well everything fit. We were the exact same size in everything! Her bra fit my breasts perfectly! Even her shoes fit! What are the odds that we would have exactly the same size feet?

Of course Olivia's face wasn't an exact match for mine. We both had an oval-shaped face, but Olivia had thicker eyebrows, longer eyelashes, and slight circles under her eyes and a number of other tiny discrepancies that could easily be noticed by the public and the European media.

Victoria apparently thought of that too and she placed a black leather fetish mask on Olivia's head. It completely covered her hair and most of her face. Under the circumstances it looked to me like Olivia could probably impersonate me and get away with it.

"Wait," interjected Lexi, "Does she understand that when I spank her it's going to hurt? I spank really hard and if she can't take it, I don't want her having a panic attack in front of half a dozen TV cameras! I'm not sure

why

she's impersonating Diane, but if she goes into hysterics and tries to run out of the room and escape, it's going to be a huge deal and millions of people are gonna want to know what's going on. I might even get charged with assault, and I can't handle that kind of drama."

Victoria raised her eyebrows at Lexi and said, "Olivia, would you mind answering that? Lexi here doesn't seem to think you have the requisite pain tolerance to handle the sort of punishment she can dish out."

"You really should have spoken to your people earlier about the details of your plan," Olivia said flatly to Victoria. She was admonishing Victoria for her negligence, but in a mild way. She never raised her voice or sounded angry. She sounded calm, professional and polite the whole time.

Then Olivia leaned against one of the lockers and arched her spine, thrusting her naked buttocks out so that they were prominent and impossible to ignore.

I had to admit that her ass was really cute. Did my ass look like that? Honestly, I very rarely ever get the chance to see my own. Olivia's was so firm and flawless, I found myself helpless to look away from it.

"Smack my ass, Lexi," Olivia said in that clam, polite of voice. "Show me how hard you can spank and we'll see if I go into hysterics."

Olivia looked over her shoulder and waited for Lexi to smack her undefended, exposed bottom. Lexi looked unsure of herself. She looked to me and then to Gretchen and Victoria as if she were waiting for one of us to tell her what to do.

"Well, go ahead," Victoria finally said. "She's inviting you to do it. They can't call it assault if you're just doing what she told you to do."

Hesitantly, Lexi stepped forward and smacked her right hand against Olivia's unprotected backside. There was a loud smacking sound in the locker room and Lexi left a reddish-pink handprint on Olivia's naked skin, but Olivia didn't even flinch.

Olivia took a few seconds to digest the pain and then said, "You call that hard?"

Lexi then smacked the same exact spot three times in a row. The reddish handprint became overlaid with three more handprints until the reddish mark on Olivia's butt-cheek was a shapeless mass. Olivia grunted softly in pain at each blow, but she still kept her back arched and she still kept her butt thrust out.

"If that's the hardest you can spank, I don't think we're going to have any problems," Olivia calmly observed. "Are there any more objections, or can we get started now?"

"Just one more thing," Victoria said, holding up a ball gag.

"You never said anything about being gagged," Olivia said. "You said I'd be naked and spanked in front of a large crowd, but I never agreed to be gagged. You never even brought it up."

"I don't want you trying to imitate Diane's voice," Victoria countered, "And the best way to avoid that problem entirely is if we make it quite clear that you can't talk. A gag is a wise precaution under the circumstances."

Olivia and Victoria stood close and squabbled quietly over the necessity of Olivia wearing a gag. I couldn't hear the exact words they were using, but Victoria must have eventually won the argument as Olivia opened her mouth wide and patiently allowed Victoria to shove the rubber ball deep into Olivia's mouth and buckle the leather straps tight around the back of her head.

As Olivia walked away I couldn't help but admire the sway of her perfectly-shaped ass. Is that what my ass looked like when I walked away? That would explain the obsession that Gretchen has with my ass. Olivia's ass is definitely worthy of fixation and admiration.

Completing my disguise, Gretchen placed Olivia's wig on my head and a pair of sunglasses on my face. And while Olivia went to the hotel lobby to get spanked, Gretchen and I headed for the parking lot and a sleek, black Mercedes Benz.

Gretchen opened the door and told me to get in.

"Where'd you get this car," I asked as I slid into the passenger seat. "It's gorgeous!"

"It belongs to Olivia," Gretchen said as she started up the engine. "She's loaning it to us while we go visit the MP. Of course she's adding the coast of renting for car to the already considerable fee that she's charging us for impersonating you."

"So, who is Olivia anyway," I asked. "Some sort of actress?"

Gretchen smiled as she drove. "You could call her that. She typically appears at private parties and exclusive functions and plays the role of a slave or a corporal submissive."

I absorbed that little piece of information and then asked, "So, she's some form of prostitute?"

"Oh no," Gretchen replied emphatically, "Prostitutes will have sex with their clients in exchange for money. Olivia will take her clothes off and allow her clients to spank her or whip her. She'll take her punishments as gracefully as possible, but she never has sex with her customers."

I took a few seconds to think about that. I guessed that "Entertainer" might be the best job description for what she did. The title of "Actress" sort of came close, although I'd never heard of an actress before that was paid to allow the audience to spank her before.

"Slave for hire" just sounded too awkward and unwieldy to be a proper job title. "Entertainer" seemed to be the best possible job description for her. Although her form of entertainment was definitely very specialized.

"Her services don't come cheap, though," Gretchen added. "I could have easily gotten a real prostitute for half the money."

"I don't think a real prostitute would have had Olivia's pain tolerance."

"Very few people do," Gretchen informed me.

The drive to the MPs house was a long one. Apparently the MP had a home out in Bridgeworth. Bridgeworth was a small town out in the country and had beautiful health spas, farmland, antique shops and pubs with local character.

Gretchen very studiously refused to discuss the MP with me, preferring to keep me in suspense as to the name, physical appearance or behavior of the MP. He could be a drunken wife-beater for all I knew.

He probably wasn't, but Gretchen wasn't making me feel any easier by being totally secretive. By refusing to divulge any details whatsoever about the person I'd be having sex with, my imagination was free to conjure out the most disturbing, horrific scenarios.

I did notice that Gretchen started treating me differently once I was wearing Olivia's clothes. She stopped calling me "slave-girl" and she no longer insisted that I call her "mistress". She still wouldn't tell me anything about the MP, however the dynamic between us had definitely changed.

The scenery got a lot less populated as we drove, but it also got more charming. We passed at least one vineyard and we passed about a dozen bed & breakfasts. We drove through mile after mile of charming surroundings and finally Gretchen turned to me and said, "We're almost there."

The Mercedes slowed down and eventually brought us to a halt in front of an electronically operated gate. Gretchen opened the driver side window and pressed a button on the side of the driveway. A woman's voice came over the speaker and Gretchen announced her presence. Within seconds the gate opened and Gretchen drove forward.

"That was a woman's voice," I observed as Gretchen drove forward.

"Yes, Diane," Gretchen agreed. "That' was a woman's voice."

"So, the MP is a woman?"

Gretchen studiously refused to answer and instead asked me to take note of the charming English country garden full of climbers and roses. I looked out the window and acknowledged them, but I was far more interested in the gender of the person I would be having sex with. Having sex with a man would be disturbing and traumatic for me, but sex with a woman would likely be no big deal.

We got out of the car and made our way to the front door. Standing in the foyer was a relatively small woman. She couldn't possibly be more than five foot, six and she had bright blue eyes that were girlish and trusting. Her mouth appeared to be girlish, soft and utterly without malice.

She was elegant, stylishly-dressed, looked to be in her mid to late thirties and gave the impression of being utterly wholesome and non-threatening. I felt utterly foolish that I was afraid of having sex with her. She looked charming and trustworthy.

For several seconds we just stood there looking at each other in silence. I attempted to size her up based on physical appearance. Her eyes looked kind and without coldness. Her mouth looked soft and her face lacked the sort of lines normally associated with scowling. Her fingernails were cut short, thus making pinching or scratching unlikely. She wore no jewelry on her fingers, thus I didn't have to worry about being cut by a diamond or other gemstone if she struck me.

Also, no wedding ring, meant no husband to come home and catch us in the act.

I suppose she was attempting to size me up as well. I'm not certain what sort of conclusions she drew about me, although I hope that I met with her approval.

Finally Gretchen broke the silence by saying, "So, Diane, this is Roberta Preston. Roberta, this is Diane Schlank."

Roberta held her hand out and waited for my reaction. I raised my hand up, and while we shook hands she replied, "You looked different on television."

"We thought it best to bring her here in disguise," Gretchen responded. And after imparting this little tidbit of information, she removed my wig and sunglasses.

"Well, well," Roberta said, "That's more like it. I suppose I'd best invite you both inside and offer you some tea."

The MP preferred to be called "Lady Preston" and her kitchen was quite large. Her dining room was large enough to sit ten people. Using such a large dining room to serve three cups of tea seeming like overkill, but I was out of my element.

Also, I never really liked tea. I've always preferred coffee, but coffee is more of an American thing. Sessian ministers of parliament apparently drink tea.

After Lady Preston had gotten past the formalities of serving us tea (which I didn't want) and blueberry scones (which I'd never seen before, but were actually quite good), she gave me a penetrating look and inquired, "Diane, isn't it about time that you got out of all those clothes?"

I must admit that the question took me by surprise. Gretchen had been treating me like a free woman almost two hours and I had adjusted to thinking like a free woman. Now, that I was being asked to remove my clothes, I felt a sudden twinge of guilt for not being naked in the first place.

I rose awkwardly from the dining room table and mumbled some sort of excuse for why I was still wearing clothes, however it came out sounding awkward and confusing.

Lady Preston avidly scanned my face as I began to unbutton my blazer. The look of discomfort and surprise on my face seemed to interest her greatly.

Then she turned to Gretchen and asked, "Is she always like this when you tell her to strip?"

"Not always," confided Gretchen, "But treat her like a respectable lady, put her in comfortable surroundings, get her relaxed and then tell her to strip in front of strangers and it puts her off balance. It catches her off guard."

Lady Preston ordered me to place my shoes at the far end of the dining room table and after that, I was ordered to pile the rest of my clothing over top of the shoes.

I removed the panties last, hooking my thumbs into the waistband and pulling them down my legs so that I could step out of them.

Lady Preston raised an eyebrow as she stared directly at my shaved vulva. The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly into a type of delicate smile. "You're absolutely adorable, Diane," she confided in me.

"Thank you, Lady Preston," I replied, basking in her approval.

Lady Preston watched me with a deep longing in her eyes. It looked like she had more than just lust in her eyes. It looked identical to the way Gretchen stared at me when we first met, back when everything between us was new and exciting.

"The video recordings don't do you justice. In person you look far more desirable. If I'd known that you looked this delightful in person, I'd have made a deal with Gretchen months ago."

"That's very flattering, Lady Preston," Gretchen said as I stood there naked with the minister of parliament staring fixedly at my naked body, "But what exactly are you going to do to Diane while she's here? We never really hammered out the details for that over the phone."

"There are some things that can't be said over the phone," Lady Preston replied. "In politics you can never really be certain that your phone conversations are private. Political adversaries have been known to engage in illegal activities and record the phone calls of MPs and our staff. Face-to-face conversations are almost always safer."

"So, what do you want of me?" I asked. "I'm assuming you want sex. Since I arrived here it seems like most of the men and about half of the women in Sessia want to have sex with me."

"You are delicious," Lady Preston said to me, "You're basically an aphrodisiac on legs. And just about any women would be honored to have your smooth naked skin pressed up against them, however I want more than just that. I want you across my lap while I spank your naked backside mercilessly. I want to see your bottom turn red. I want to wipe your tears away while you tremble and sob. It may seem odd, but I see crude, unsophisticated rituals like that as foreplay. I honestly can't enjoy sex without them."