You'd better be over eighteen if you are about to read this β all of the characters in the store are. It follows on from part1, of course, and part 3 will be along later.
I slept between my lovely satin sheets on my second night at the Gordons' Mansion, my back still sore from my whipping, my anus stretched and aching with the unfamiliar intrusion of the butt-plug. But I felt supremely happy. My Mistress loved me, and I knew I could serve her, that when I had made her cum that afternoon, she had known true pleasure β and I had lost count of the orgasms I had had during the day. My last thought, as I drifted off to sleep was that I would count the hours until my Mistress saw fit to whip me again.
I awoke to the smell of coffee, and found a smiling Pilar stood by my bedside, breakfast tray in her hands. I realised, to my embarrassment, that I had unconsciously pushed aside the covers, and my fingers were idly playing around with my damp pussy-lips, and that the little Spanish maid was staring at me, an unreadable expression on her face. As we couldn't communicate verbally, I extended a hand to her β the one that had just been fingering my burgeoning clit. She put down the tray on my bedside table, and did a very strange thing. Taking my proffered hand in hers, she put it to her full lips, and kissed it, muttering something I didn't understand. Then she turned on her high, metallic stilettos, and hurried from the room, her long slender legs encased in black seamed stockings, the lace tops of which were tantalisingly in view under her short black miniskirt.
I ate my breakfast hungrily, and then busied myself taking a shower. Soon afterwards, a knock on my door announced the return of Pilar, this time with an envelope, which she presented to me silently. It was one of my Mistress's neat little notes:-
Julie,
I trust you are well rested. Attend to your make-up with care. Put on a garter-belt and black seamed stockings, a black half-bra, the waist chain and anklet I bought you yesterday and a white negligee. Wear stilettos, of course. You may now remove your plug, but you must, on no account, take off your collar. Pilar will call for you in half an hour.
Your Mistress
Rosa.
I read it through, and hurried to comply. It was a huge relief to rid myself of the fearsome butt-plug, and I felt a new freedom as I walked about without it. When I had put on the garter belt and pushed my breasts into the half-bra, I looked at my image in the mirrored door of my closet. My nipples were perched nicely on top of the lacy material of the bra, and seemed to harden and grow as I looked at them. I couldn't resist giving them a tweak with my thumbs and forefingers. The recent memory of the cruel nipple-clamps which I had worn yesterday was as exciting as it was painful, and my pussy tingled at the thought, as I smoothed the long, seamed, silky black nylons straight on my long slim legs. I cinched them to the straps on the garter belt, clipped the little silver chain around my ankle, and chose a pair of the highest heels I could find. As I went back to the closet for the negligee, I remembered the waist chain, and clipped it around my slender girth, then selected the long transparent nylon garment, with a white fur trim at its hem and cuffs. Again I checked the mirror, and thought I couldn't possibly have looked sexier.
Pilar knocked and entered, looking me over with something that seemed like adoration.
She held out a hand to me, and said, 'Come, please!'
She led me down two corridors, to a part of the rambling house where I had never before set foot, opened a door, ushered me into a large bedroom, and left me, silently closing the door and leaving me alone. It was a room like my own, but more luxurious, with fine velvet drapes, and a distinct smell of cigar smoke. Just as I was about to it down on the sofa by the window, the door opened, and Mr Gordon came in, wearing the same Paisley dressing gown he had been wearing the day before.
'Ah, Julie,' he said, 'yes!'
I didn't know what he meant by that, but he strode over to a cupboard, and from it took an object which he concealed from me behind his back. Then he took hold of my arm, quite roughly, and propelled me towards a door, which I discovered was the bathroom. At one end was a huge walk-in shower-recess, mosaic-tiled.
'Go in there!' he ordered.
I started to take off my negligee.
'No!' he said, sharply, 'as you are. And face me!'
I stood under the shower, and he regarded me, his lustful eyes drinking in my body, hand still behind his back, holding something. The other hand reached out beside me and flipped on the shower control. A freezing cold, stinging cascade of water poured over my head, soaking me through instantly, so that the thin nylon clung to my body like a second skin. I dared not move, however, but was shivering uncontrollably when he turned off the jet.
'Cold, are you?' he asked.
I nodded dumbly.
'Hold the shower head, with both hands!' he said, and I did as he ordered.
He whisked from behind his back a leather cat o' nine tails, and immediately started to lash me above my breasts and then across my stomach with it.
'That should warm you up!' he said, as I howled with the sudden pain, accentuated by the wetness of the nylon against my skin.
He pulled aside the two halves of my negligee and whipped me again, several times, reddening my skin, and giving me a criss-cross pattern of stripes I knew wouldn't last, but which stung as he whipped me.
Despite my pain, I couldn't help noticing that he had a massive erection, threatening to burst out from his dressing gown, so I knew my punishment would be short-lived, and so it proved.
'Come!' he ordered, and I followed him into the bedroom. There, he stripped off my negligee, and gave me a big fluffy towel, but didn't offer to let me take off the rest of my things.
'Down in front of the sofa, and spread your arse!' he told me, and I again did as he told me, looking back at him anxiously.
'Oh, Mr Gordon,' I said, speaking at last, 'please don't hurt me, not
there
.'
'You have to be trained, girl,' was all he said.
I pulled my arse-cheeks apart a wide as I could, hoping to make his passage as easy as I could, and hoping too that my twenty-four hours with the butt-plug would have helped, but when he brutally rammed to fingers deep into my anus, I knew I was in for some awful pain. It hurt like hell, and I cried out in agony as a third finger forced its way in beside the other two, tearing, I was sure, my delicate tissue, as it went.