Vanessa's Vocation

It was the last evening of my stay at the Sheikh's palace, and I was approaching my departure with mixed emotions. I had my exit visa for departing Saudi Arabia's stringent regime in my handbag, and that was a reminder of the freedom that awaited me in Madrid, my adopted city, but I had become genuinely fond of Helena, the Sheikh's principal wife, and looked forward eagerly to my nightly call to her suite.

When she rang for me, I was prepared, had made a special effort to please her, dressing in a way I knew she liked. I had called Hassiba to lace me tightly into a white satin corset, which constricted my already slender waist still more, and pushed my partly-exposed breasts upwards so that my nipples pointed above the horizontal. I attached long white, lace-top stockings to the garter-straps, stepped into ultra-high needle-heeled silver sandals, then slipped into a glittering knee-length dress, high-necked, with long sleeves, but which was almost completely transparent. It fitted me like a glove, the skirt so tight that walking stretched it to the limit of its seams.

I fussed around for some time over jewellery, but settled on silver drop ear-rings, bracelets and an anklet, then set off down the long corridors to see my Mistress for the final time.

When I arrived at her lounge, she was, as usual, reclining on a sofa, drink in hand, wearing a long black negligee, her lovely honey-blonde hair loose about her shoulders. She looked sad.

'Vanessa,' she said, 'I don't know what I shall do without you. I have become so reliant upon our evenings. The Sheikh tells me he has requested a replacement, but for me, that will be impossible.' There were tears in her eyes as she spoke, and I sat beside her, wiping them away. I took her drink from her and put it down on the coffee table, and then kissed her letting my silver tongue-stud work its magic on her, as it invariably did, until, she shrugged her shoulders out of her negligee, and revealed her lovely, mature body to me again. It was possible to believe that the surgeon's knife had played a part in preserving her firm breasts and flat stomach in such perfection, her legs and buttocks so shapely and young, but I could only hope that I was to be half as good when I reached her age. I felt her moistening slit, and she moaned, as she always did, when I touched her tiny bud of a clitoris, pushing me gently away.

'Go and get the cane, Vanessa,' she said. In the month I had been at the palace, our roles had slowly reversed. Helena had thrashed me nightly with her special cane from my first night there, giving me sufficient pain with one single stroke to set my juices running – even to bring me to an instant orgasm. Then, after a few nights, she had asked me to cane

her

. Reluctant at first, I had done her bidding, but, as time went on, she started to crave more and more of the punishment I meted out – and, I was forced to admit, I enjoyed giving it! Thee very thought of punishing someone physically had always been abhorrent to me, but when the recipient begged for it, loved me for it – that was, had to be, quite another matter.

'Yes, Mistress!' I now said, and went to fetch the long thin cane from its place on the sideboard.

'Now please tie me up,' she said. She had never had me tie her up before. 'I want to remember this evening.'

She stood up, dropping the negligee on the sofa, and walked, statuesque in high-heeled mules, to a column which supported the gallery. I saw she had in her hand the tie-cord of the negligee. She passed it to me, then turned to face the column, and put her arms around it, so that I could tie her wrists together. I complied.

'Now whip me, hard!' she ordered, and I stood back and brought the cane swishing through the air, then 'CRACK' – the sound of the cruel switch striking her tender flesh of her middle back made me wince, and she squirmed against the cool plaster column as I watched a red welt appear instantly along the line of my stroke. Without delay I laid another one directly above the first, harder still, knowing instinctively how much she would want me to hurt her, and this time she cried out, a pretty little, 'Oooh' as I caused another red stripe to appear. I knew the next was going to be lower down, and the small of her back was my target for a lighter blow this time. She threw her head back almost contemptuously, as if to ask me if that was the best I could do, so I gave her a vicious lash across her upper buttocks, raising a bright red wheal, and causing her to cry out sharply.

'One more, Mistress,' I said, and thrashed her again close to the previous one, this time seeing tiny droplets of blood springing up along the red line of the welt. When I gently pulled her head around to face me, she was sobbing quietly.

I untied her, and helped her down to the sofa. She pulled me down with her, and tried to pull my skirt up, but it was too tight.

'Wait,' I said, but she wouldn't do anything of the sort, and grasping the hem of my dress with both hands, tore the thin material apart from hem to waist, then plunged her head down between my legs, into my waiting, dripping wet pussy, her silky gold hair trailing across my thighs as she found my clit with her searching tongue, and flicked at the nub in the way she knew would bring me to a rapid climax.

I manoeuvred her into a '69' position, easing her legs wide apart and licking the length of her perfumed crack with my tongue, letting her feel my stud graze the insides of her labia – I knew that drove her wild.

She panted when I thrust my tongue deep into her cunt and simultaneously pushed a long finger into the secret depths of her arsehole, then she too tongued deep into my fuckhole, and I allowed my control to fall away, releasing a massive orgasm which coincided with that of my Mistress.

We lay exhausted together, not for the first time, until she spoke, sadly, to me, 'I can't believe we shall not be able to do this again, Vanessa.' And there were tears in my eyes too when I finally took my leave of her and went back to my room. But, in truth, I was looking forward to getting back to Madrid, and my poor arsehole needed a rest, after the daily ravaging it had received from the old Sheikh during the last month. I grinned at the sudden thought that Rafael would appreciate its resultant increase in diameter, which was my last, before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

The Iberia flight touched down at Madrid Barajas on time, and I was feeling light-headed after taking on board a couple of gin and tonics – my first alcoholic drinks for over a month – when I passed gratefully without a pull through Customs. I didn't want to show anybody what I had in my suitcase, because it was, in fact, stuffed full of jewellery, presents from the Sheikh and Helena, both for me and to give to the other girls. Rafael's driver was waiting for me, and greeted me with a hug – it was just nice to feel that I was in a free country again, and see women dressed in normal clothes, going about their business. Still the experience had been more than worthwhile, and I knew that there was a shining new Mercedes awaiting my collection at the dealership the next day.

When we drew up outside the Casa Fontana, the two Arab girls whose lives I had effectively 'saved' by agreeing to spend a month at the Sheikh's palace – Leila and Yasmina – were waiting outside on the steps to meet me – a nice touch, I thought.

They looked radiantly happy, in cotton sundresses and 'regulation' stilettos. Both welcomed me in English, eager the show off their newly-learned few words. But I wanted to see Alicia, and was disappointed to learn that she was off doing a show in Budapest, and wouldn't be back for a couple of days.

I went to my room to freshen up and change. Slipping out of my travelling clothes, I looked at my image in the mirror. The signs of my last whipping had almost completely faded, and I realised that, even though the Sheikh had flogged me from time to time, I craved the feel of Rafael's long cane, as only he could administer it.

He must have been reading my mind. My bedside phone rang, and Rafael's sexy voice was music in my ear.

'Nice to be back?'

'Oh yes, Rafael,' I replied.

'Would you have dinner with me?'

'Of course.'

'Then dress now and I'll see you in half an hour, say. Is that enough?'

I said it was, and trembled with excitement, as I chose a dress I hoped he would approve of. He liked me naked under whatever I chose, and I knew also that he favoured silk, so I picked out a long gold silk gown, long-sleeved, with a high neck, the bodice loose enough to allow my breasts to jiggle as I walked, deeply cut-out at the back, so that my entire back was bare, right down to the start of the cleft between my buttocks. The skirt encased my legs like a glove, a concealed zipper from floor to waist hobbling me completely. I wore a pair of impossible high gold stilettos with it, and found it very difficult to negotiate the stairs down to Rafael's study.

'God, Vanessa, you look wonderful,' he said, 'let's go now, before I have to fuck you right here!'

'Do we have to go?' I mischievously wanted to know.

'Unfortunately I've booked a table,' he said, smiling, 'but afterwards...........'

Before we left for the restaurant, he took me in his arms and kissed me, and I let my tongue-stud play around his teeth and his own tongue, gently teasing him with its unfamiliar presence. He liked it, and told me so.

'You'll like it even more on your cock,' I told him, and felt his hardness with my hand at the thought.

At the restaurant, our usual waiter found it hard not to look at my nipples, almost spilling the food on one occasion, so that Rafael embarrassed him by saying to him, 'I'll let you fuck her if you like, but just serve us for now, eh?'

'Did you mean that?' I asked him, when the young guy had turned and scuttled back to the kitchen.

'Would you like him to?'

'Mmmm. Probably.'

'I'd have to punish you for it, of course.'

'Then certainly, I'd like it.'

'OK,' he said, 'change of plan for the evening then – he comes back with us!'

'Fetch me the head waiter!' he commanded the waiter on his next visit to the table.

The waiter, looking terrified, complied immediately, doubtless expecting a dressing-down, and Rafael whispered in the suave Maître d's ear. The tall man grinned, and then summoned the young waiter with a click of his fingers. When he spoke to him, the young guy looked over to us, eyes like saucers, shaking his head in disbelief.

We were having our sweets by then, and Rafael told the waiter to bring our coffees right away. He practically flew over to the bar for them, and hovered near while we finished them.

In the taxi on the way back to the Fontana, I sat between Rafael and the waiter, learning that his name was Pedro. When I gave a gentle stroke to the front of his black trousers, I found that he had an erection which must have been a painful, constrained as it was in his tight pants.

We went straight to Rafael's suite at the Casa Fontana, and Rafael had to go and take a piss. As he went, he said to Pedro, 'Undress her!'

He stood facing me for a moment, strangely hesitant, then reached around and unhooked the fastening at the back of my neck, letting the soft silk of my bodice fall away, leaving my breasts naked. He cupped them in his hands almost lovingly, feeling the tautness of my nipples. But I didn't let him dwell there – I pushed him gently away, and

Twisted around so that he could have access to the zipper which encased me in the confines of my tight skirt. He got the idea, and unzipped me, pulling the tag from my waist to the floor. I knelt, naked, in front of Rafael's favourite armchair, my knees, slightly apart, one arm on the chair's seat, the other hand behind me, parting the lips of my pussy, as Pedro got to his knees behind me, nervously fumbling with his zip. He was even more nervous when Rafael walked into the room, and sat down with a flourish in the chair, pulling my head into his lap.

As I unzipped him with my teeth, as he liked me to do, he said to Pedro, 'Come On, don't be shy!'

Rafael's beautiful cock sprang out like reinforced steel, and I licked pre-cum off the tip, letting my stud linger around the tip until he groaned and pushed my head down. As I took him into my mouth, I felt Pedro's thick weapon start to spear the portals of my cunt, penetrating me insistently as he thrust his eagerness deep into my warm, wet passage. I squirmed as his thickness filled me and I smoothed Rafael way down into my throat, letting him fuck my mouth as he would my pussy, wrapping my tongue around his shaft as he pumped. Pedro pounded in and out, banging his heavy balls against my arse, kneading my tits with his big, rough hands, as I let my orgasm build unchecked, its delicious climax nearing as I felt Pedro reaching his own. He roared as his strokes sped to an unbelievable rate, and I almost blacked out with the force of my orgasm, as both men came at once, my cunt and my throat flooded with hot spunk so that I could hardly breathe. Rafael's head was thrown back in ecstasy as I sucked down the last of his delicious salty cum.

Rafael then summarily dismissed Pedro, telling him to get dressed, and at the same time calling for one off the maids to escort him down to wait for a taxi.

'Now, my dear,' he said, as soon as the maid had quietly closed the door, 'you must be punished, of course!'

His cock was already hardening visibly again at the prospect of the caning he was about to give me, and he made no attempt to zip up his trousers. He pulled me to my feet and, in no time at all, had me cuffed to the end post of his four-poster bed, which had a stout metal ring set into it about a foot above my head. I glanced around and could see my reflection in his mirrored wardrobe door, naked but for my stilettos, in which I could just stand and avoid being suspended from my wrists. I felt helpless, yet so excited, knowing about the thrill of the pain that was certain to follow, that wwould transport me to ecstasy.

Rafael said, 'You have missed this, haven't you, Vanessa?'

'Oh yes!' I heard myself say.

'And you crave the punishment, don't you?'

'Yes, Rafael.'

'You want me to hurt you?'

'Oh yes. Yes please!' My sex was on fire, the fucking I had had from Pedro no more than an overture for this, the night's real pleasure. I was close to a thundering orgasm, and he hadn't touched me yet.

He was back behind me again, now holding his favourite cane, the one with the handle like a golf club. He swished it through the air, as if to test it, but he was so expert with it, I knew he could do with me as he pleased.

I looked at him beseechingly, and he said, 'You shall wait no longer,' then he lashed me hard across my upper back, just below the shoulder blades.

'Ooh-oh!' I cried, and he deliberately let me feel the hardness of his now rampant shaft against my buttocks.

The next stroke was harder still, and a touch lower down, landing with a fearsome 'crack' and drawing a gasp from me as the awful sting of the thin cane was converted from a longing to a terrible, ecstatic reality. I came, in waves of sheer delirium, and knew I should multiply under the ferocity of his punishment.

He lashed me again, across the small of my back, and immediately thrust his hand roughly into my crack, knowing I had had a surging climax, and wanting to share it. Now in a hurry, he thrashed me frenziedly across my rounded, tender buttocks, leaving great red welts that would make sitting an agony for days.

When he saw that I was sobbing with the pain, he unfastened me, and lay me gently down on the bed, face down, then climbed on to the bed beside me.

I felt for his cock. It was as hard as iron.

'Fuck me in the arsehole, Rafael, now!' I told him. It was, I think, the first time I had presumed to give him anything that sounded like an order, but I now knew that being punished infers a certain superiority on the receiver – something you learn with time.

Obediently, he handed me a cushion to put under my belly, and I opened my legs slightly then reached a hand behind, and prised my arse-cheeks apart to show him thee dark cavern of my now-well-used arsehole. He needed no further invitation to slip easily into my velvet passage.

I had yet another shuddering climax as he shot his load of creamy cum deep into my bowels.

'I hope you enjoyed tonight's meal,' he said, when I was slipping into a robe to go back to my room.

'The coffees were a bit hurried,' I said, with a grin.

I needed a day to recover from the exertions of a night like that, and suspected that Rafael knew, so I spent the next morning quietly, tending my sore back and behind, and reading in my room. The wounds were no more than superficial, however, and by the afternoon, I was feeling fine, so I went into town to pick up my gleaming new Mercedes Sport, my present from the Sheikh. When I got back, Rafael called me into his office.

'How are you, my dear?' he asked, at once.

'Fine, thanks,' I replied.

'Good, because you are going off to do a show with Nikolai, a new guy, and two girls in three days' time.'

'Oh. Who are the girls?'

'The two Arab girls you helped rescue from Saudi.'

'But, Rafael, they are novices, aren't they? What about Alicia, and Cindy?'

'They are in Amsterdam, not due back until the weekend. And Leila and Yasmina will be fine – they are very eager to please. And the new guy starts later, just in time to go with you- but I know him – he'll be fine.'

I was not so sure, but another question occurred to me: 'Where are we going?'

'England!' he said.

'Bloody hell,' I said, 'you can't put a show on there, the police.....the laws.....oh shit!'

'Don't worry about all that,' he said, 'money tends to solve most problems, and there's rather a lot of that involved. Now, you and Nikolai have a couple of days to fine-tune the two girls. Here's what you are going to do.........' He went on to explain the show, which was not dissimilar from the others I had done, but I left wondering just how the two Arab girls were going to take to the BDSM scene.

I wasn't going to have to wonder for long. Rafael sent for them, and they duly turned up, both dressed in tiny miniskirts, silk blouses and high heels. They were quite similar, except that Yasmina was slightly taller, and had shorter hair. Both were slim, with long legs, had jet black, shiny hair, wore tiny diamond studs in their noses, and had dark brown, almost black eyes, now wide with apprehension at being called to the Boss's office.

They relaxed a little, however, when they saw me there, but their nerves returned when they learned that they were to make their debuts in a show in so short a time.

I found out that neither of them was by now a stranger to the whip. They had both been systematically beaten by the old Sheikh before leaving Saudi Arabia anyway, and Rafael had ordered them to be whipped twice since their arrival. He told me, in front of them, that they took it well, and they nodded in unison when he said they appeared to enjoy the lash.

Feeling better about our prospects of putting on a good show, but nervous about our venue, I escorted the girls to the theatre to meet Nikolai, who had just got back from a holiday in the Seychelles.

I hadn't seen the handsome blond myself for some time, and thought he looked great, bronzed and fit. The two girls looked about to faint at the mere sight of him.

We talked around the scene quite a bit, though communications were always going to be a problem – Nikolai still spoke more Russian than anything else, and the two girls conversed amongst themselves in Arabic, but had little or no language in common with Nikolai, who spoke with me in halting Spanish. They spoke to me in English, fairly well.