Saras Silken Ladder Ch 04

Only if you've read the first three parts will this make sense. Everyone in this story is over eighteen.

*

I glanced at my companion as we were both eating a rather limp sandwich on our flight to Alicante, and wondered at just how little I knew about Kirsty, the girl I'd just agreed to share my life with. Achingly beautiful, she certainly was, and when she turned and smiled nervously at me, her green eyes were close to shedding tears. I realised that she was feeling much as I was.

I said, 'We're going to have to get to know each other aren't we?'

'I guess so,' she replied, 'but I was just thinking about us – and how happy I am that you've come with me. If you hadn't, I think I'd have killed myself.' She reached out and took my hand in hers, giving the tiny chain hanging from my little fingernail a stroke.

'But Simone just got carried away, didn't she?'

'Sure. At first, I just loved it when she whipped me, but then she went on and on, and when I yelled out the "safe word" she had given me at the charity caning, she just laughed, and carried on, carried on until I passed out from the pain.'

I gave her hand a squeeze. 'I'm not much of a nurse,' I told her, 'but I'll see what I can do for your poor back when we get there.'

Don't worry, Sara, it'll heal in time,' she said, but I could see that it hurt, as she shifted around constantly in her seat, and grimaced as she did so. Like me, she had elected to wear a long cotton dress for the flight, and I thought how lovely and innocent she looked, with her long, straight brown hair framing her lovely face.

'I'll bet it's cured you of wanting to be whipped,' I suggested.

'For the moment, darling, for the moment,' she smiled ruefully, 'but don't imagine I've changed, will you.'

'But I'm no dominatrix.'

'Bea said you were very excited when you watched me being caned.'

I didn't reply to that, even though I knew there was much truth in it – the stewardess collecting our rubbish interrupted, then the seat-belt sign came on, and we started our descent.

It was nice and warm as we emerged from the terminal and found a taxi. The grumpy driver had difficulty finding his way to the house, having to ask directions in a village we passed through, but after an hour, we stood in front of a low rambling villa, with a light illuminating the porticoed doorway, and others shining behind two windows. A pineclad mountainside was the backdrop.

'There's someone here?' I asked, slightly alarmed.

'No. My father has a woman, Maria, who keeps the place clean, and tidies up the garden.'

As she spoke, the door opened and a short, well-rounded woman in her fifties bustled out to greet us. I got another surprise when Kirsty spoke with her in what sounded like fluent Spanish. As we went in, she laughed at my expression. 'We lived in Florida in the winter – you need Spanish there.'

'How little I know you, Kirsty.'

For reply, she pecked my cheek, and we set about exploring the capacious house, as Maria left us alone. A moment later, I heard the sound of a moped starting up as she sped off home.

We raided the well-stocked fridge, and I found my eyes closing involuntarily as we sat at the kitchen table.

'I don't know about you, but I'm bushed,' said Kirsty, as if she were reading my mind, 'but I've something to ask you.'

'Go ahead,' I said, looking at her curiously.

'Do you want your own room, or are we going to share?'

'That's up to you, darling – it's your house.'

'Then please sleep with me, Sara. If I snore, just kick me!'

In no time at all, we had slipped off our dresses and slid naked between crisp white sheets. I was asleep in an instant.

I awoke next morning to find our legs entwined, but Kirsty was propped up on an elbow, and watched me wake up slowly, taking a little time to figure out where I was.

She bent over and kissed my eyes, then her lips found mine, and she simultaneously cupped my breast with her free hand, and pushed her flat belly against me, slipping a long, slender leg between mine. I welcomed it by parting my own legs slightly, and kissed her fervently.

'Oh, Sara, I do believe that was our first real kiss!' she breathed, as we 'came up for air.'

I pulled her towards me then, and she winced noticeably.

'I'm so sorry, darling, I forgot,' I told her, 'do we have any balm, or ointment?'

'There's just about everything in the bathroom,' she replied, and I slid out of bed to go and find what I needed.

As I eased balm into Kirsty's tortured back and buttocks, I couldn't help remembering when Helen had last tended my own welts – rubbing in salt in lieu of ointment. When I told Kirsty about it, she looked at me with her huge green eyes full of love, and said, 'We're both well out of that, I think, don't you?'

'Yes, I do,' I confirmed, but the sight of all the red stripes that covered Kirsty's back was undeniably a pretty one, and I couldn't help wondering how long it would be before our urges returned.

Again, the American girl seemed to read my thoughts. 'You know I really do love pain, though, don't you, Sara? I don't think I shall ever change.'

'I know, darling. Let's just see what transpires, eh?'

What transpired immediately, however, was that, as I smoothed the soothing cream into the stripes on her buttocks, my hand found its own way into her inviting crack, and soon I was feeling her increasing wetness. Still laying on her stomach, she opened her legs to me, and moaned as I found her clit, which was urgently demanding attention, standing proud of its protecting hood like a little soldier. When I flicked it with a long nail, she groaned, and said, 'Oh, Sara, you can do that to me forever – and anything else you like!'

I plunged two fingers deep into her hot, moist vagina, which seemed to suck me in, and I was soon drawn down to lay beside her – my love, my darling Kirsty.

Before I could do more than kiss her, I felt her shudder sharply.

'I'm sorry, Sara – I just came!' she said.

'I know, my darling,' I said, as, wordlessly, she eased my own legs apart, and I felt her long, silky hair brush my thighs, then her teeth were busy at my labia, pulling them gently apart, before she thrust her tongue into my eager cunt.

'Oh, Kirsty,' I cried, 'I love you, I love you!' Then all was lost as the delicious, roaring orgasm swept over me like a tsunami.

We spent the rest of the morning taking stock of our surroundings – it was a nice, big house, set in the mountains, gardens fragrant with honeysuckle, lantana and hibiscus. I scarcely dare believe my luck, but as we sat on the terrace to watch the sun go down, I voiced my concern.

'It's very lovely here, but look, Kirty, we've got no work – how do we live?'

'Don't worry about that,' she said, 'I've got plenty of money. Tomorrow we should go buy some clothes and stuff.'

I looked at her, and she laughed. 'Don't look at me like that. I used to be embarrassed by Daddy's money, but I've learned to live with it.'

There was a nice swimming pool at the back of the house, invisible from the road, and, after a light lunch we cobbled together, we both stripped off and swam up and down naked, even though the water was, in truth, a trifle chilly. Invigorated, we towelled each other off, then sat together on the seat of a big garden swing. I had my arm around her shoulders, and we were kissing slowly and tenderly, oblivious to all else, when I heard an attention-getting cough. Startled, we parted, almost guiltily, to see a girl about our own age, slim and darkly pretty, with long, straight, jet-black hair, and eyes that seemed almost black as well, stood by the pool, looking embarrassed at finding us naked, kissing.

'My mother send me to ask if you want anything,' she said, in heavily-accented English.

'You are Maria's daughter?' asked Kirsty.

'Yes. I sorry if I come at bad time,' she said, looking uncomfortable. Everybody in the village is going to know about us now, I thought.

'What is your name?' I asked.

'Ana,' she told me, 'I am learning English.'

'You are doing very well.'

She looked at me hesitantly, then said, 'I want….' Then words seemed to fail her.

I tried to encourage her – she was terribly pretty. 'What do you want, Ana?'

'That I come here sometimes – you help me with English?'

I glanced at Kirsty, who nodded. 'Of course, come when you want, Ana.'

'She's lovely, isn't she?' said Kirsty, when the Spanish girl had gone.

'You noticed,' I said, then thought no more about her, as Kirsty had started to stroke my thigh. Accompanied by much giggling, we made love, there on the swing, then fell onto the lawn, still locked in a '69' position, tonguing each others' pussies until we both came, simultaneously, in a violent, shuddering climax.

'Christ, do you always squirt like that?' said Kirsty.

'No,' I replied, 'only when I've been really, really hot.'

'You've soaked me,' she said, and dived gracefully into the pool.

Next day, we drove the twenty-odd kilometres into Alicante, and spent the whole day shopping. At first, I felt embarrassed at using Kirsty's credit cards for everything, but she was oblivious to the cost of anything, often never even looking at the price on the label. I relaxed and made sure I had everything I needed. We both bought skirts, blouses and dresses, sexy slips and nighties, garter-belts, stockings and jewellery, but when I saw her looking at some admittedly pretty lace panties, I stopped her from buying them. She looked at me in surprise.

'Oh,' she said, 'so now you're telling me what to wear!'

'No, darling, what NOT to wear.'

'I'm looking forward to…to everything,' she said.

After buying several pairs of shoes – we could share them, as we were both the same size – all with high, needle heels, we retrieved the car from the underground parking area, and set off home.

'I've been thinking,' said Kirsty, at length.

'What about, darling?'

'About Ana.'

'You dirty bitch,' I said, laughing.

'Well, yes, I am, aren't I? I just wondered about the way she looked at us, when she saw us together, naked.'

'Yes,' I agreed, 'she looked almost envious, didn't she?'

Kirsty fell silent at that, but a while later, said, 'I wonder…..no, surely not.'

'Wonder what, darling?'

'I just wondered if she may be a submissive.'

'I suppose we shall never know.'

'I don't know, but she had that look, didn't she?'

'And if she is?'

'We could….er…invite her to….' She didn't finish the sentence, but she had got me thinking. We were almost home, and Kirsty had to take care on the winding mountain roads, so no more was said on the subject, but I couldn't get the image of Ana out of my mind, even though my love for Kirsty was growing every day stronger. This was somehow different, like a consuming hobby – I knew that if anything should develop with Ana, or any other girl, it couldn't come between Kirsty and myself. I only hoped she felt the same, and, after dinner that night, she practically confirmed it. As we finished our coffees, she reached over the table and took my hand.

'You know what we said about Ana?'

'Yes, darling?'

'Well, I just want to say that I don't want anything to change between us, Sara.'

'Oh it won't, Kirsty, I promise you.'

'Because I couldn't bear it.' She had tears glistening in her eyes, and I found myself holding them back too.

'I love you so much,' I told her simply.

The next morning was whiled away, trying on the clothes we had bought – we had our own little fashion parade, and as we had worked through to the evening gowns, and both wore slinky long silk gowns, mine black and slit almost to the waist, hers a backless creation in maroon, and were strutting around in our heels, the doorbell rang.

'Whoever can that be?' said Kirsty.

I went warily to the door, and peered through the spy-hole.

'It's Ana,' I called out over my shoulder, and opened the door to let her in. She crept in diffidently, looking intently at me, and I realised that I must have looked extraordinary, at eleven thirty, dressed in a long black silk evening gown, and impossibly high heels. I followed her into the lounge, admiring her shapely behind, clad in tight jeans, and she stopped dead when she set eyes on Kirsty, also in an evening gown. When she walked towards us to greet the newcomer, her breasts jiggled prettily under the loose, soft silk.

Ana looked from one to the other of us, but neither of us offered any explanation as to why we were dressed that way – presumably Ana thought we were always like this.

'Like a drink?' asked Kirsty.

'Coca Cola, if you have it,' said Ana.

When Kirsty turned away to go to the kitchen, Ana gasped. She had seen the stripes, some still angrily red, on Kirsty's back.

'Has she been…..?' she whispered to me, not completing the sentence. I suspected she didn't know the word.

'Whipped. Yes, she has,' I said, without trying to explain.

Ana looked at me searchingly, and I thought I could drown in her huge dark eyes, but remained silent, until Kirsty returned with Ana's coke.

'So you want help with your English?' I said, at length.

'Oh yes, please,' said Ana, 'and….and…'

Seeing she was stuck for words, Kirsty took the girl's hand and spoke to her in rapid Spanish. Ana looked astonished that Kirsty knew her language.

'I'll translate for you later,' the American girl said to me, then they stood and talked for a long time. Ana was wide-eyed, gesticulating animatedly, and ran a finger across Kirsty's wounded back. She nodded vigorously as the earnest conversation eventually came to an end, and was smiling when she took her leave, skipping down the corridor.

'What was all that about?' I wanted to know.

'She was fascinated by my…er-welts. I told her as much as I felt able, and asked her to dinner tonight. I said we may offer her a position.'

'A position?'

'We could use a maid, couldn't we?'

'Sure, but how do we pay her?'

'I keep telling you, Sara, forget about the money, darling.'

'Well, it would be fun to have her around, anyway,' I said, 'she really is very beautiful.'

'I've told her she should wear a dress this evening.'

'Well done, now shall we get some lunch?'

We spent the sunny afternoon around the pool again, taking care not to spend too much time in the sun, then I started the dinner while Kirsty went to dress.

When she came back, she looked stunning, in a shimmering gold dress she must have had in her wardrobe, because it wasn't one we had bought the day before. It was very tight, fitting her like a glove, just above knee-length, and she wore matching gold sandals with needle heels. Her brown hair shone with health, its thick mane tumbling down her back to her waist.

'God, I could eat you,' I said, looking up from the stove, where I had the risotto simmering away.

She donned a pinafore, and prepared to take over while I changed from the robe I had been wearing.

I brushed my long, dark blonde hair for a time, then deliberated for some time before choosing what to put on. I plumped for one of the two dresses I had brought from England, a green, silky, pleated number, with a gathered neck, and voluminous sleeves, which fell loose to mid-thigh length. In it, I felt practically naked, as its soft material was light as a feather, and I had only to lift the hem slightly when I sat down to display my shaven pussy. Stepping into a pair of stiletto-heeled mules, and, as an afterthought, clipping matching thin gold chains around my waist and an ankle, I felt incredibly sexy.

'Oh shit,' said Kirsty, when I got back into the kitchen, 'and you expect me to concentrate on cooking?'

I teased her, coming up behind her and rubbing my tits around her back. She turned away from her task, and said, 'You asked for it, you cow!'

She dragged me across to the kitchen table, and I slid my backside onto it as she raised my skirt up above my waist, dropped to her knees on the tiled floor and pulling my legs roughly apart, thrust her long tongue deep into my moist, warm cunt. I moaned and shook convulsively as she tongue-fucked me, and my orgasm followed immediately – nobody else had ever made me cum so quickly. I had drenched Kirsty's pretty face with my juices, but while she was cleaning herself up with a paper towel, and I apologised, she said, 'No, darling, don't be sorry, I just came too, and without touching myself!'

Half an hour later, with the table all set, the doorbell sounded.

Ana looked sweet enough to eat, in a little cotton print sundress, flowers on a blue background. Her long black hair was, I thought, magnificent. She shifted from foot to foot nervously, and produced a box of chocolates from behind her back. She seemed uncertain whether to hand it to me or to Kirsty, so I simply took it from her.

'This is lovely, Ana, but you didn't need to bring anything,' I told her.

Kirsty scurried off to finish getting the meal ready, and I sat Ana down beside me on the sofa,with a glass of white wine.

She looked deprecatingly down at herself. 'I look so…so…so, oh, I don't know the word – but you two are so

sofísticada.'

'But Ana, you'd look lovely in a bin-liner.'

'What is bin-liner?' she asked. Conversation was going to be heavy-going.

'Never mind, I just mean you'd look lovely in anything.'

'I am so

invidiosa.'

'Envious?' I supplied, and she nodded.

'But why, Ana?'

'You are in love, and I have nobody.' A tear of self-pity ran down her cheek. I brushed it away with my hand, and she stared at the decoration dangling from my nail, then turned towards me.

'Living here, in village, all local boys and men just want fuck me, but I no like.'

'I can believe that they want you – you are very beautiful. Have you tried?'

'Yes, sometimes, but I…,' she didn't complete the sentence, just looked woebegone. I felt I had to say something nice to her.

'Kirsty says perhaps you could come and work for us.'

Her dark eyes suddenly shone with luminous joy. 'Do you mean that? Here, with you? Oh, Sara, that is wonderful!'

'Wait a moment. We need to talk about it.'

'Oh, but I do anything for you. Anything. I see Kirsty's back. You can do that to me – it is that I want! Oh, please, please, Sara.'

I was embarrassed by her outburst, and glad when Kirsty came in with trays of food. Worried she may not have meant it, I said, 'I've just told Ana you may ask her to come and work for us, and she seems pleased.'

'Oh, good,' she said, setting my mind at rest, 'I'll discuss details with her after dinner if you like – it may be better in Spanish.'

Ana's eyes followed Kirsty as she came in and out – and she did look truly stunning in her tight gold dress, and mega-high heels.

We ate a nice meal, had a fair drop to drink, then sat around the coffee table while Kirsty outlined to Ana the duties of a maid as she saw them. 'I'll translate for you later,' she told me. They were in serious conversation for some time, and Kirsty was doing most of the talking, Ana apparently agreeing, to judge by the times she said 'sí.' At length, Kirsty turned to me, and said, 'you told me you could sew, didn't you?'

'Why, yes, but what about a machine?'

'We have one upstairs. It belonged to my mother. Could you run up a couple of maid's dresses for Ana?'

I suppose so, but I'll need the material – and her size.'

'The material, we can go and buy tomorrow. Her size, you can get now.'

She turned back to Ana and said something, whereupon the Spnish girl stood up and fiddled with the bow that fastened the halter-neck of her dress, then, hesitantly, held the two straps for a moment before lowering them. So revealed, I saw that her breasts were mere bumps, but that they had prominent, protuberant nipples, centred on large, dark, puffy aureolas. They were charming and inviting. She was standing, now, in just a pair of cotton panties.