Don't read this if you're under 18. I decided to move the 5th part of the 'Diana' saga into the Lesbian section, as no men appear in the story, although it is still BDSM oriented. It will, however, make more sense if you've read the other 4 parts. It's all fantasy.
I was established now as Helen Barrington's principal slave, and my place in her household was secure. I proudly wore her brand on the inside of my upper thigh.
Gala had been sent away by Mistress Helen to work for a friend in Sweden, so I was left with the meek Astrid as a companion and maid.
One evening, I let Astrid prepare me, as usual, for the evening, observing our house rules, by wearing a long transparent gown, and having my ankles shackled, as I knew that my Mistress was due home, and it was a part of our essential ritual. As Astrid finished putting my hair up, I heard the scrunch of tyres on the gravel outside, and hobbled down to greet my Mistress with her favourite vodka and tonic. She bade me sit at her feet, and then summoned Astrid.
When the maid came in, she was wearing her uniform, a black mini-dress and high-heeled sandals, her long blonde hair loose.
'Astrid,' said my Mistress, 'how old are you now?'
'Twenty, Mistress Helen,' she said.
'I think you may be ready to become a slave. Would you like that?'
'Oh, Mistress Helen, there's nothing I want more in the world!'
'As Gala has left us, there is a vacancy, and I am inclined to offer the position of maid to Su-li, from my office.'
I remembered a slim little Asian girl scurrying about with files in the office.
While Astrid served us with dinner for the last time, my Mistress allowed me to stroke her silken thighs, and outlined her plans for Astrid and the new maid, and told me the part I should be playing in their training. Astrid had been her servant for two years, so she knew what being a slave entailed.
After dinner, she told Astrid to go with me to Gala's old room, which was now to be hers. I shuffled off with her, my ankle-chains dragging along the floor as usual when my Mistress was at home.
We opened up the room, and I inspected the wardrobe. Gala had been smaller and thinner than Astrid. I reported back to Mistress Helen that we should have to go shopping for a lot of things she would need, and she gave me the day off the next day to take my new companion-slave into town, furnishing me with cards so that I could find the appropriate shops. 'It's important you get everything there, my dear,' she said, 'I'm sure you understand.'
I told her I understood, and she added, 'And while you're in town, go and have done that which you know I want you to have done, my dear, won't you?'
I looked at my Mistress, knowing full well what she wanted me to have done, and wondering if having Astrid with me would help me summon up the courage to have it done.
Next morning, Astrid was revelling in not having to dress as a maid, and skipped around in a summer dress as we waited for the taxi to take us into the West End.
As we went up the stairs to the exclusive boutique in a back street off Sloane Square, a minor film-star came down carrying a huge bag. When we got into the shop itself, it resembled a high-class drawing-room, but with racks of clothes visible along one wall. An effeminate man fussed around us and took Astrid's measurements.
'I have been advised of Ms Barrington's requirements, of course,' he said, waving a fax at us, 'perhaps you would like to go and have a coffee now I have your measurements?'
We readily agreed, and tripped off down the stairs to find a coffee bar.
I sat at a table near the window in a smart little Italian espresso bar, while Astrid was fetching our coffees, when I suddenly saw a familiar face.
'Good God,' I yelled, 'It can't be!'
'Diana, bloody hell,' said my oldest friend, Cindy.
'What the hell are you doing in the big city?' I asked her.
'Looking for work, mainly,' she said, 'but look at you – you look........well, different!'
'I am different,' I said, and introduced Astrid, telling her to get another coffee for Cindy, who noticed instantly that I had commanded her to do it.
'So what's going down, then?' she asked, 'last I heard, you were living with some girl, going to lots of parties and stuff.'
'A whole lot's happened since then, Cindy. I remember you once told me something about myself. Cast your mind back – it was so true!'
She fell silent, obviously remembering well that she had once told me that I was a 'pain-slut' but not wanting to say any more in front of Astrid.
'Look,' I said, 'we've got to go, but take my card, and come and see me in the office tomorrow afternoon, and I'll try and get my boss to talk to you.'
We left, to collect all our parcels from the boutique. There were too many, as it happened, to cart around all day, so we decided to leave them until later, and, after buying Astrid three pairs of ultra-high stilettos, we took another taxi to Paddington, where the shop I dreaded visiting was situated.
It had a black, forbidding frontage, with garish signs offering tattoos of all kinds. Astrid held my hand tightly, sensing my fear, as we entered, and a huge black man sized us up, then ushered us through into a surprisingly clean and clinical back room. My only previous piercing had been my tongue, a couple of years ago, since when I had been branded on my upper thigh, so that I knew nothing could compare to the pain that had given me – that at least was a comfort. My Mistress had remarked that my clitoris was protuberant and suitable for piercing, and that she would like me to have a ring placed in it, and she was not to be denied.
