Everyone in this fantasy is over eighteen years of age. If I unwittingly upset Muslim sensibilities in any way, I should point out that I am not a Christian, or anything else!
It is a work of pure fantasy, and continues the story beginning with part 1.
When, alter my first appearance in public, I got back to Madrid, I felt quite well rested. Sam had shown me New York, but I was disappointed when he told me he was going to California to do a show, while I was recalled to our head office. I suppose I had naively thought we might stay together on a more-or-less permanent basis, but Alicia put me right on that score: 'Rafa doesn't like us to form liaisons,' she said, 'he says it's disruptive.'
On my first full day back, Rafael called me into his office. He regarded me solemnly with his brown eyes, and again, as ever, mesmerised me with his deep, cultured voice, which always had the effect of making my pussy involuntarily moisten.
'I understand you did well in New York, my dear,' he said, and I didn't know if I was meant to reply or not, so kept quiet.
'I have two shows coming up for you in the next month, if you are still happy to do them,' he went on, and looked at me questioningly.
I nodded quietly, and he looked relieved, then said, 'If you are happy to carry on, then I shall be very happy. Perhaps you will join me for dinner tonight?'
I was only too pleased to be asked, and agreed, of course, but then he said, 'Do something now, would you, my dear?'
'Yes, of course,' I said.
He stood, and said, 'Kneel here, on the floor, please.' I did as he told me.
'Now take off your blouse.'
I unbuttoned my silk blouse, and slipped it off my shoulders. He walked around me, cupping a breast briefly with one hand and giving the briefest of touches to a hardening nipple, sending rivets of pleasure into my very centre.
I knew what was coming, even though it had been unexpected up until that moment, as soon as he took up the switch he kept on his desk, a short, thin cane with a leather grip. Without ceremony, he lashed me with all his strength, hard across the tender flesh of my back, just below my shoulder blades.
'Oh,' I cried, softly, and waited for the next awful stinging stroke, which came almost instantly, just below the site of the first one. The pain was fierce, and I writhed under its influence as he took aim again, and forced me to cry out with the agony, which was now merging, as it always did, with a new sensation, an ecstasy and luscious desire that welled up and brought juices oozing into my cunt. Five near-unbearable strokes he gave me, then threw the switch down on the desk, as I looked into his eyes beseechingly.
'I know, my dear,' he said, 'come here!'
He sat back down in his chair and made me bend over his desk in front of him, first inspecting the red wheals his handiwork had left, then he pushed my legs apart, and thrust his hand into my sopping crack.
'My, you are wet, Vanessa,' he said, and it took him no time at all to finger-fuck me to a raging orgasm, which had been 'waiting in the wings.'
'Now,' he said, 'go rest, but when you dress for dinner, put on a backless gown, please. Be ready at nine.'
In the event, I chose a long grey silk halter-neck gown, with a loose bodice, which grazed my nipples, causing them to stick out against thee thin material, and my breasts jiggled prettily when I moved. The skirt was tight around my ankles which was another sensation I liked, combining well with my ultra-high heels, I thought. When I looked over my back into the mirror, the stripes left by the afternoon's whipping were all-too obvious, but I needed a mink stole to keep off the cool Madrid night air anyway, so nobody would notice before they were supposed to.
We arrived at the restaurant, and were duly greeted by Serafím, the Head Waiter, who showed us to a secluded corner table set for four. I looked a question at Rafael, who smiled benignly down at me as we took our places.
'We are to be joined by a young couple, my dear,' he said, 'and I think you should be able to help me with them.'
'Ah,' I caught on, 'so now I'm procuring, eh?'
He smiled condescendingly and his hand was transmitting electricity to my thigh under the table, 'You remember being recruited? Here in this restaurant?' And in your little hotel?'
'Will I ever forget? You have changed my life.'
And, before I could dwell upon just how much, the lugubrious Serafím was shepherding a young couple, obviously English, in our direction. The guy, who led the way, was tall and blond, with an athletic build and clean-cut, college-boy appearance. In the fine restaurant, he looked incongruous in jeans and a U-2 tee-shirt. In tow was a girl who might have had one Indian parent. She was of medium height, a little shorter than myself, willowy and slim, with olive skin-tone, huge dark eyes, a long aristocratic nose, and a long mane of silky black hair, which she wore loose, falling to her waist. She was clad in flared cream trousers and a cropped brown jumper, revealing that her pierced navel sported a silver pendant with some sort of stone in it. She had large silver hoops depending from her ears, and her wrists jangled with silver bracelets.
Rafael introduced them to me as Jason and Sylvia, and we took our places for the meal, during which little was said, other than small-talk. In truth, the meal was far too good. There is nowhere better in the world for seafood than Madrid, and the oysters, followed by bogavante, were unbeatable. I could see our English guests thinking they had died and gone to Heaven as the meal progressed. Jason's eyes, however, seldom strayed from my nipples while he fumbled with the cumbersome seafood.
But there was a certain tension, one of anticipated business, in the air, and Rafael snapped his fingers at Serafím when we had finished our sweets, and we were shown into a private lounge, and brought coffee things on a huge tray.
Rafael cleared his throat and addressed me: 'Vanessa, can I just explain to you now that I met these two young people yesterday, and invited them tonight? They were brought here from their hotel by my man. I think we might interest them in joining us.'
Then he turned to the young couple, 'I have brought Vanessa along with me because, like yourselves, she is English, and she has worked for me for some time now. She recently did very successful work for me in the USA. You will have noticed her style of dress.' He looked directly at Jason at this point, and the young guy made a face which was worth a thousand words.
Sylvia was also paying rapt attention to Rafael now, and waiting for what he was about to say. They both sensed that 'there was no such thing as a free meal' and that some sort of offer was about to be made.
Rafael launched into it: 'I don't want you to think that I go around just picking up anybody off the street,' he said, 'and maybe you will not be interested when you have a rough idea what this is about. I take a chance on young people, based on what I observe, how they look and dress, things like that. I am seldom wrong, but I have occasionally made mistakes. Let me first of all say that this is a chance to make a great deal of money. Then let me say that this is only the case if you are able and willing to accept and enjoy a lifestyle which few people have even considered, for several years.'
He paused to let that sink in, and saw that he had their undivided attention. He continued, 'I run an unusual business from the Casa Fontana, and before I tell you about it, I need an assurance of your discretion.' He paused and looked from one to the other of them, then, seeing no reason not to, he launched into a long description of the BDSM reality shows, and the worldwide nature of his business.
To conclude, he said, 'I rely heavily upon the fact that I do not use actors and actresses in my shows – hence the term "reality" – please stand up now, my dear Vanessa!'
I got to my feet, and dropped the stole I had wrapped about me for the short journey from the dining room. I did a little twirl in front of the young couple, so that they could see the angry red stripes which newly adorned my back. Then I reached down and took Rafael's extended hand, bent down, and kissed it lingeringly.
A silence descended on the room, and I sat down again, looking at Jason, whose eyes had followed my every movement. He looked as if he was about to say something, but then looked sideways at his partner, who broke the silence.
'I'm in,' said Sylvia, 'you found us looking in the window of a BDSM bookshop, so you know we are interested, right?'
'It's one thing being interested, and quite another being committed,' said Rafael, 'look, take the night to make up your minds. If you haven't phoned me by eleven tomorrow morning, a car will collect you from your hotel at twelve, and you will begin a month's paid trial with us, OK?'
In the car on our way home, I said to Rafael, 'You old fraud, you found them looking at BDSM books – and I thought it was intuition!'
I saw that he was smirking in the glow of the streetlights.
Next day, no call came, so that the chauffeur, Javier, was sent in the Chrysler Voyager to collect Jason and Sylvia from their hotel. Rafael had already telephoned the hotel and arranged to pay their modest bill.
When they arrived at Casa Fontana, their eyes were wide with wonderment as they took in the luxurious surroundings, and Alicia, stunning in her trademark Grecian-type flowing white dress, took Jason by the arm and led him off to his room, while I took charge of Sylvia, showing her to hers. I explained that they were to be separated during most of their training, as couples, as such, were not encouraged in the organisation. She made no protest at this, seeming more excited at the prospect of wearing all the beautiful clothes I showed her.
When I had let her have a good look at the room and all the clothes and accessories she would be permitted to wear, I sat her down and took her through the rules she would have to abide by during her period of training. She found some of the rules hard to understand, as we all had at first, and was almost inclined to protest when I rang for one of the maids to take away her suitcase, with all her clothes and personal make-up kit, etc., and put it into storage. I had her strip, and was quite pleased with her lithe, half-Asian body, but told her that we should have to remove all her body-hair.
After she had showered, I made her sit on a plastic stool in the bathroom, and told her to open her legs, while I knelt between them on a bathmat. I lathered her already fairly sparse pubic hair thoroughly, then started to take it off with gentle strokes of a new razor. I carefully worked my way around her neat, dark labia, taking off every vestige of hair, and pulling her forward on the seat, removed even the fluffy scraps of hair that grew just around what looked to be a completely virgin arsehole.
