Saras Silken Ladder Ch 02

Chapter 02 -- 2nd Rung

This is the second instalment of Sara's story, and will make more sense if you've read the first already. Everyone in this story is over 18.

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When I awoke in my new bed in Helen's house, it was a Monday morning -- a working day. Not wearing panties under my uniform skirt was no novelty, as I'd given up wearing them during my brief affair with Nadia, but going bra-less felt strange, even though I still had firm breasts, and they weren't very big. I should need to get used to it, as I was going to have to accustom myself to the much higher heels my mistress insisted upon. My mistress called to me from her room as I was waiting for her at the door.

'Just pop in a moment, Sara, will you.'

I went in to find her all ready for work, but with something in her hand.

'Just bend over the bed, please,' she told me, and I obeyed, wondering what was coming.

I was wearing the pleated skirt, just above knee-length, that was an option with our store's uniform -- otherwise it was the tight, much shorter one. Now Helen flipped up the hem of the skirt, revealing my naked buttocks, framed by a little blue satin garter belt and long garter straps to support my black stockings.

'Spread your buttocks with both hands. I'm going to put this into you,' she said, and as I turned my face towards her, the other cheek crushed down on the bed, I saw she was holding a shiny metal cone, about an inch and a half in diameter at the base, tapered to a point. A short stalk from the centre of the base ended in a shaped flange. She had a tube of lubricant in the other hand, and smeared some around my sensitive anus, making me gasp. But that was nothing compared to the scream I let loose when she wriggled the huge implement into my tender arsehole. I felt sure she had torn me as she forced the invasive plug deep into my velvet tube, then deeper still, until the curved flange sat flush with my crack. It felt terrible, but my mistress was speaking.

'You need to leave that in place all day!' she said, 'Now stand up, and walk acrosss the floor.'

'Oh, mistress, it hurts terribly!'

'You'll get used to it, and it will serve to remind you to whom you belong.'

'Yes, mistress,' I said, doubtfully.

In the taxi, on our way to work, my mistress said, 'I've got a little surprise present lined up for you at lunchtime.'

'Oh good,' I said, 'I love surprises.'

My arsehole hurt like hell as I went about my work, but my mistress was right -- I started to get used to it, and then was able to walk around with my head held high, proud in the secret knowledge that my body belonged to my mistress, to do as she pleased with. Combined with the four inch heels I was wearing, and the lack of any underwear, sex was on my mind all morning.

As lunchtime approached, my mistress came up to me.

'Get your coat, we're going out.'

A taxi was waiting for us at the staff entrance, and Helen gave the driver an address in Soho. When we got there, she led me up a staircase beside an expensive beauty salon, and rang the bell beside a frosted glass door. There was a sign

on the door:-

DECOROTIC

Sexy body decor

A very pretty blonde in a pale blue lab coat answered, and led us through a waiting area into an airy space lined with cabinets. I then saw what I was to be fitted with -- for the whole place was dedicated to fingernails. But I wasn't going to be allowed any choice, my mistress electing a set of false porcelain nails, exaggeratedly long, deep maroon in colour. Once they had been fitted, with great care, and I had been assured that they wouldn't easily come off, Helen pointed to my right pinky.

'That's the one,' she told the girl, and a tiny drill soon made a hole a short way from its tip.

'You admired Simone's nails, I know,' said my mistress, 'so I thought we'd have a similar job done.'

'But I'm right-handed,' I protested, knowing that I was to have a decoration placed there, and that it would get in the way when I wrote, or on any number of other occasions.

'I know, darling, but these little things will remind you -- as you will discover.'

I said nothing more as the little blonde painstakingly threaded a tiny ring into the hole, and hung from it a delicate gold chain an inch and a half long, with a little gold ball at it end. I thought it very charming, and said so. I really loved things which dangled, inconvenient though they may be.

'Come on, then, we'll go through to the other room, I want you to have some more things.'

Taking our leave of the blonde, we went through a door to the other salon, where th walls seemed to be lined with cases of costume jewellery. I sat in a chair to which I was led while Helen did all the choosing, and when I left, I had a big, jangling bunch of bangles on my left wrist, and a painfully tight 'serpent' amulet on my right bicep. Helen also bought more items, but didn't show me them.

Now I felt everyone in the store must be staring at me, as I self-consciously tried unsuccessfully to hide my new nails, and their dangling decoration. I was still acutely conscious of the butt-plug, and the constriction of the amulet merely added to my discomfort. But I was beginning to understand the relationship between discomfort and sexual pleasure.

At home that evening, I found out what it was that Helen had bought, when she got up as we finished dinner, then came up behind me as I was sat at the table. She placed a collar around my slender neck, and I heard it click shut, fitting me snugly, not too tightly. She produced a hand-mirror, so that I could admire it, and it was truly gorgeous, a wide metal collar, studded with what looked like diamonds, with a small silver ring subtly set into it under my chin.

'I want you to wear that always, darling, and, unless you are dressed in a corset or something, this too.' She handed me a wrapped package, which I opened to find a heavy silver chain, with ornate links, fastened by means of a finer chain, at the end of which was a blue stone in a clasp, at one end, and a hook-fastening at the other.

'You'll find that will leave a bit of chain dangling,' she said, 'it will look nice.'

When I tried it as I was getting ready for bed, I looked at my naked body in the mirror. How I had changed! The chain hung loosely about my waist, my collar was going to be a permanent reminder of my status, and the amulet yet another change. I hd almost forgotten about the butt-plug, and now couldn't resist twirling around, and looking at its lewd flange projecting from my anus.

Next morning, over breakfast, my mistress said, 'How's your butt-plug?'

Before I had time to reply, she went on: 'I'd like to try your anus out tonight, my dear -- I have an interesting little diversion.'

I shuddered involuntarily as I wondered what her 'diversion' may consist of.

Several people commented upon my collar during the day, and I found myself the subject of some strange looks as we ate in the staff canteen -- but Helen seemed oblivious to all that, and pressed my hand in hers as we walked back to work.

After dinner that evening, Helen said, 'I promised you a little diversion. I know you enjoyed it when I whipped you a couple of days ago.'

'Oh yes, mistress!' Was it only a couple of days ago? The marks of her crop had all but faded away.

'Well so did I, darling -- in fact I came, without touching myself, as I whipped you,' she smiled -- I had already confessed to an almighty climax as she had flogged me. She went on: 'I'll go and change. Just take off your dress, and wait for me.'

I had on a simple white cotton button-through, so in a couple of second, I was stood in garter belt, stockings and heels, and apart from my lovely waist-chain and my mistress's collar, nothing else.

My mistress returned, a black negligee swishing along the floor as she walked. She looked, I thought, magnificent. She went to the closet, and trundled out a strange-looking padded bench, which had wheels at one end for ease of transport, but was stable on the floor when she dropped the other end, carefully placing it directly under a light-fitting. As we always had wall-lamps illuminating the room, I hadn't seen the light working.

The bench was slightly inclined, very narrow towards the lower end, but then widening out into a sort of padded ring. On its four 'legs' it was equipped with stout leather straps and buckles. I shuddered when I realised they were meant for me.

Helen beckoned me, indicating that I should get onto the bench, but when I started to sit at the lower end, she said, 'No, darling, the other way round.'

I perched on the higher end. Its width stretched my legs apart like sitting on a horse, the more so when my mistress strapped my ankles to the legs of the bench. She then made me lay down along the padded top, its narrowness lower down meaning that my breasts jutted down either side of the central strip. The edges of the ring supported my face, so that I was looking down at the ground while my mistress secured my wrists to the legs at this lower end.

I heard a whirring noise, which I later learned was my mistress bringing down a chain from what I had thought was a light fitting, using a little handset. Then she walked away, and I heard her rummaging in the box she kept under the sofa. When she came back, she reached down and showed me something.

'I'm going to put this into you now, darling,' she said, and waved a bright, curved stainless steel hook, with a big knob at its tip, under my face, 'it's an arse-hook!'

Before I had time to protest, I felt her grasp the flange of my butt-plug, then had the momentary delicious sensation of my own suction as the wide plug was pulled out of me. Its place was taken by the hook, the knob on which must have been about the same size as my butt-plug. But it penetrated me much more deeply, and I gasped and writhed as its length was rammed right into my delicate tube. But worse was to come, and another buzzing sound was accompanied by agony as the chain dragged the hook -- and my arse with it -- upwards, upwards, until its tension strained against the straps that bound me to this cruel 'horse.'

'Oh, mistress, that hurts so much,' I breathed, but she was far from finished. Kneeling beside me, she kneaded my breasts for a moment.

'Your nipples are hard, my dear Sara,' she whispered to me, and at first I thought she had gripped one tightly, until I realised that she was applying nipple-clamps, and screwing them tighter and tighter onto my tortured nipples. I screamed at the searing pain that coursed through my body, but worse was to follow when Helen hung a weighted chain from the two clamps. A third chain extended from the silver ball which hung there, and she pulled it towards my face.

'Put your tongue out!' she ordered me, and when I obeyed, she slipped a ring at the end of that third chain over my tongue stud, dragging my tongue downwards. I was in agony.

But my mistress still hadn't finished, and returned to her handset. A faint buzz started to build into a louder noise, and I felt the tension relax as the hook lowered my arse, but then the note changed, and I felt my whole body yanked up again. Up and down, up and down, as my mistress controlled the rhythm of my torture.

'How does that feel, darling?' she asked.

'Oh mistress, it's terrible!' I cried, but rather than give me respite, she left me to suffer for a moment, and I could hear her at the fiendish box again, then, when she came back, I heard the dreaded sound of something swishing through the air.

'Just a few strokes with the cane, I think,' she said, and showed me a thin bamboo switch. Without delay, she lashed me with it across my upper thighs, as the hook raised and lowered me, and my sensitive nipples were in agony. The chain dragging my tongue half out of my head prevented me from making more than a muffled moan as the stinging cane fell again and again across my stretched thighs.

Again, as when I had been whipped before, the awful pain transmuted into a raging torrent of animal desire, and, on Helen's fourth or fifth stroke, I came, in a convulsive, heaving orgasm which rent my world in two.

Helen knew -- she knew! And immediately set about releasing me.

Shortly afterwards, she cradled me in her arms.

'Darling Sara, I love you so much,' she said, 'what makes me want to hurt you so?'

'I don't know, mistress, but please don't stop!'

'But I punish you so cruelly.'

'Mmmm.' I kissed her, long and deeply.

The next day, my mistress was on the phone when I returned from where I had been checking stock . When she rang off, she said, 'We're having dinner with Simone tomorrow night, darling. Tonight I'll run you up something I want you to wear.'

I must have looked surprised. 'You didn't know I was a seamstress, then?'

'No.'

'Well, you'll see.'

That evening she was busy at her sewing machine for perhaps two hours, only pausing to call me in for a moment to measure the length of my legs, then she went back to her machine, sewing what looked like white satin. It almost looked as if she were making me a wedding dress.

When she had finished, we took coffee together before going to bed.

'Would you like me to try on what you've been working on?' I enquired.

'That won't be necessary -- it will be your surprise tomorrow,' she replied.

Next evening, when we got home, Helen told me to strip and wait for her in my room. I duly got out of my uniform, rolled down my stockings, and unclipped my garter belt. Aside from my collar and waist-chain I was naked.

'You can take that off too,' said my mistress, pointing to my chain, when she came in, heavy white satin laying across her arm. She laid the garment across my bed, as I unfastened my chain, then helped me into the gown she had made. What she had done the previous night, was remove the lace trim from the hem of the white satin corset Simone had supplied, and neatly sew a long skirt in heavy white satin to it. A zipper opening in the skirt coincided with the lace-up opening at the back of the corset.

I buttoned up the front of the corset, using its little metal hooks, then braced my self as Helen pulled the laces incredibly tight in the back. Then she zipped up the long skirt, and I was encased in its heavy, snug length, tightly enveloping my legs right down to my calves, so that I was unable to take anything like a walking step. The skirt then flared out down to ground level. The corset's tight constriction thrust my breasts up, so that my nipples, inexplicably hardened, poked out above horizontal, just visible above the lacy top of the corset. I looked at myself in the mirror as my mistress put my hair up in an elaborate swirl. When I was ready, long, heavy ear-rings hung to my shoulders, the tight amulet was uncomfortable on my upper arm, and I was, as ever, conscious of the tiny chain dangling from my fingernail. Knowing it was my mistress's true intention only heightened the feeling that she had dressed me as a sex-object. She had me wear the highest heeled, platform-soled shoe I had been bought, and stepped back to look at me. She was dressed in an elegant blue silk evening gown, and looked cool and, I thought, very beautiful.

'How do you feel, darling?' she asked.

'Very sexy,' I told her.

'Good -- that'll be Simone now!' The doorbell was ringing, and, mincing along behind her, acutely uncomfortable in the tightness of my gown and the heels, I went to be presented to our guest.

Simone was as gorgeous as I remembered -- no, more so, as now she wore a shimmering silver gown, deep-cut and backless, showing a lovely floral tattoo on her lower back. Her breasts jiggled gently as she walked, nipples jutting out prettily through the thin material of her gown. As before, she wore huge hoop ear-rings.

When she had embraced Helen, I stepped forward, and was subjected to her scrutiny.

'She is lovely,' she said to Helen, as if I were not present, her French accent noticeable, 'have you whipped her?'

'Just a little,' said my mistress.

'And did she er...respond?'

'She cums when you hurt her.'

I looked down at the floor -- it was embarrassing to hear my mistress speaking about me this way. But Simone was studying me, and, looking thoughtful, said, 'I know you've booked somewhere nice for dinner, but then we could go to my place if you like. It would be nice to give her a little treat, don't you think?'

'That would be lovely,' said Helen. As much as I had already learned to love my mistress's punishment, I was more than a little apprehensive about what faced me at the hands of the exotic blonde.

Helen handed me a chiffon stole to drape over my shoulders as we went out to get into the taxi -- at least the taxi driver couldn't eye my nipples as they peeped out above the

cruel corset, but he still did an obvious double-take when we got into the cab.

Once in the small restaurant, she whipped the stole away, and stopped me from covering my near-naked tits when the pretty, redheaded waitress took our order.

'She'd like to fuck you, wouldn't she?' said my mistress, smiling -- and I knew she was right. Perhaps she had picked the restaurant knowing the waitess was Lesbian.

Only able to guess what was in store for me, I got both excited and apprehensive as we ate, whilst Helen and Simone talked weather, politics, holidays, just like ordinary people, treating me to the occasional polite question, as if I were someone they scarcely knew. When the waitress came to our table, her eyes were on my nipples, and she smiled shyly at me when she saw that I knew.

'Perhaps we'll invite her one day,' said Helen, who had noticed the silent exchange, 'would you like that?'

'It's up to you, mistress,' I said, lowering my eyes.

Simone laughed. 'She's a flirtatious little bitch, isn't she? I can hardly wait to introduce her to my post.'

I shuddered, but made no comment, despite Simone's insult.

Simone had a nice detached house beside Wimbledon Common, and a slight Chinese maid, dressed in a black minidress, fishnet stockings and heels let us in, and fetched us a tray with coffee things as soon as we were seated in the comfortable lounge. When we had taken coffee, Simone stood up.

'Come on,' she said, 'let's go and change, shall we?' She led us across the entrance hall and into a capacious dressing room, lined with mirrored wardrobes.

Simone helped me out of my dress, so that I was once again able to breathe normally, and I stood naked but for my heavy waist chain and collar, uuntil she handed me a long white cotton shift. I felt more than ever like some sort of medieval sacrifice when I had slipped the shapeless garment over my head, and Simone had tied it at the waist with a rough hemp cord.

'Go and wait in the lounge!' she told me, taking charge, and I left the two older women as they changed.

Whilst I waited, I looked around the big room. A gallery ran along two walls, supported by big wooden pillars. I shuddered involuntarily when I saw that one of them had a ring bolt set into it way above head-height, and a loose chain hung from it, with a set of cuffs at its end. So this was her 'post.' I now knew my fate, and despite the fact that I had loved being punished by my mistress, I was terrified -- I didn't think Simone would be at all gentle with me.

As I looked, wide-eyed, at the whipping post where I would surely soon be in pain, my two tormentors walked into the room. Simone came first, her legs tightly encased in a black latex skirt no less constricting than that which I had been wearing, connected to a top that was scarcely a top at all, just a strip of latex running down between her naked, pert, young-looking breasts, from a collar which encircled her graceful neck. Her pierced nipples each bore a heavy silver ring. She wore long silk white lace gloves, up beyond her elbows, and carried an awful-looking leather braided whip, the lash coiled up. She preceded my mistress, who wore nothing at all under an all-enveloping, completely transparent black sheath, with long sleeves and a high neck, exactly like one she had worn at home -- I wondered if she may have brought it with her in her capacious bag, for the occasion. My love for her transcended any fear of what lay in store for me.