Sylvias Switch Ch 03

There was no point in time when I could say that I had suddenly become a Lesbian. Falling in love with Susana had just been the most natural thing for me, and the process of becoming her slave? Well, I couldn't begin to explain that. I think I mentioned earlier that my husband Jason and I had watched a video of 'The Story of O' -- what now seemed like centuries ago, so I suppose I had always entertained vaguely masochistic thoughts, but that they had surfaced now, and with the loving, beautiful Susana as my mistress, had taken me completely by surprise.

Susana was generous in her love, and appeared to take pleasure in seeing me embracing and caressing her maid, Adela. One night she would come and kiss both of us, then quietly leave us alone, smiling enigmatically. The next night, I would find myself summoned to my mistress's bed for all or part of the night. Or maybe Adela would be whisked away, and I would be left alone -- my mistress was capriciously unpredictable.

After I had been with Susana several months, she telephoned me from her car one afternoon. It was a bit unusual.

'Sylvia,' she said, 'I have a little surprise for you. Please ask Adela to prepare suitcases for both of us. We are going to Mexico tomorrow.'

'Mexico? Tomorrow?' I spluttered, 'but....'

She laughed lightly at my obvious surprise, and told me she would explain when she got home. And so she did. It seemed she had a partnership in a chain of luxury stores over there, and had been invited to spend some time visiting them as a guest of her partner, Marina Salinas Lundgren. I was apparently included in the invitation.

The tedium of the ten hour flight was alleviated a little by the fact that we were in first class, and soon after we landed at Cancun, we were met by a uniformed black chauffeur, and shown to a stretch limo. Susana had explained that Marina had arranged to meet us in Cancun, rather than the capital city, as she had a villa near to the airport, and one of the stores was in a big commercial centre there.

I thought Susana's house in Madrid was palatial, but it was a shack compared to Marina's villa, overlooking a quiet, palm-fringed, dazzlingly-white beach south of Cancun. Two pretty uniformed maids met us at the door, as soon as the limo discharged us, and our luggage was efficiently carted in. As we entered the palatial entrance hall, we were faced with a slender, statuesque blonde, wearing a sleek black cocktail dress and heels. Susana introduced me to Marina, and her intense blue eyes bored into me. Her eyes and the shining gold hair obviously came from her Swedish mother, whilst her Mexican father had bequeathed to her her faultless olive skin. She spoke perfect English, and seemed amused by my silver-studded collar, which I could tell she immediately recognised as an indication of my status.

'I shall introduce you to Ingmar shortly,' she said, 'I have sent her shopping, but she should be back soon.'

She realised we would be tired after our long flight, and told us she wouldn't show us around the house until the next morning. To our gratitude, she had the maids take us to our rooms, telling us that we had an hour 'to dress for dinner' -- then she supposed we should want to turn in. In my case, at least, she supposed correctly!

Marina had put Susana and myself in adjoining rooms; that is, we shared a huge, palatial bathroom between our bedrooms, with a massive Jacuzzi, and a big common dressing room, lined with mirrored wardrobes. When I slid back the doors, I gasped, as they were full of gorgeous clothes.

'We are meant to help ourselves to them,' said Susana, with perfect certainty. When I looked at her doubtfully, she said, 'Marina is my oldest friend, and partner, my dear -- trust me!'

I had wondered at how little baggage Adela had prepared for us, and now I knew why that was, as I stepped, somewhat refreshed, out of the shower, and picked a simple long black sheath dress. Around my waist, I clipped a heavy silver chain, stepped into a pair of silver stilettos, and sat at my dressing table to brush out my long auburn hair until it shone. I thought I was still showing signs of having been up a long time, but I would pass! In my mirror, I saw my mistress's image looming behind me, and he came and stroked my hair lovingly, trailing her long fingers around for me to kiss. I took two or three into my mouth and bit them gently, looking at her beautiful face. She looked as if she had just emerged from a beauty salon, her make-up immaculate on flawless skin, her black hair taken up in an aristocratic French knot. She wore long, long silver ear-rings, which brushed her bare, slender shoulders, on which rested the spaghetti-straps of her long white lace dress. I turned to drink in the sight of her. Her nipples must have been rouged, as they were prominent through the lace, her small breasts hardly doing more than making points in her dress. Below, she wore tiny black lace panties under the dress, tied at the sides with ribbons. White stilettos completed her outfit. The effect was stunning.

'Mistress Susana,' I said, 'you look wonderful!'

She let me kiss her, relishing the familiar feel of my tongue-stud, as I let it dart into her mouth, but then pushed me away.

'Come along,' she said, 'we'll be late for dinner.'

When we got down to the dining room, our hostess was standing there waiting for us. She too had changed, and I thought she looked amazing.

She wore a shimmering gold backless dress of a material so light it seemed to float around her, emphasising her firm round breasts and spectacular figure. Her hair, which she had previously had caught up in a pony-tail, now cascaded down almost to her waist. When my mistress kissed her, I had to suppress a pang of jealousy.

As we made small talk, the door opened and in walked a tall, willowy blonde, wearing, I noticed, a silver studded collar, just like mine. Her hair was so blonde it was nearly white, and was tied up severely in a knot on top of her head. She wore, incongruously, a completely transparent white nightdress, mid-thigh-length, tied at the shoulders by big ribbons, with a line of fur at the hem. The only other apparel she wore was a pair of long white hold-ups, and white stilettos were on her feet. Her unfettered breasts jiggled as she walked proudly into the room, and stood beside Marina.

I did a double-take, at her startling appearance, but Susana didn't appear in the least surprised.

Marina saw me looking at Ingmar, and introduced us then, saying simply, 'Ingmar is my slave, aren't you, darling?'

Ingmar smiled, showing rows of even white teeth, 'Yes, mistress!'

'I think our dinner is ready,' said Marina, 'shall we eat?'

I was too hungry and tired to think too much about Ingmar, Marina, or anything else, as we ate our meal, and could scarcely even remember going to bed. I slept for a long time.

Next morning, I awoke to sunshine, feeling amazingly refreshed. As my mistress and I took breakfast alone in the dining room, I asked her in a whisper what she made of Ingmar.

'Why, she's Marina's slave,' she replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

'But -- but, the way she was dressed last night?' I insisted.

Susana looked at me, no more than a hint of amusement on her lips, 'I thought it charming, darling,' she said. I didn't pursue the matter.

After breakfast, we went up to our room to dress. I asked my mistress what she wanted me to wear, wondering if I was about to be compelled to wear something bizarre, like Ingmar.

In the event, she pulled out a pleated cotton miniskirt and a white silk blouse -- an outfit she knew was just about my favourite, while she herself dressed in a starched cotton print button-through dress.

While I tended her soft black hair, she fondled my pussy, making me gasp with pleasure, as she knew just how to bring me rapidly to the brink of orgasm with her slim fingers.

She stopped. 'Come on,' she said, suddenly, 'it wouldn't do to get started now -- Marina wants to show us around the house, and then take us to see her store; we'd better get moving.'

'Oh, mistress,' I said, trying to keep the sulkiness out of my voice, 'and I do so want you!'

'I know, my dear,' she said, but she had moved away, and was slipping into her heels.

Marina was waiting for us in the entrance hall, formally dressed in a lightweight suit, and accompanied by Ingmar, who, although, like myself, was still wearing her collar, was dressed in much more 'normal' fashion, in a flowered print sundress and high-heeled sandals. Her blonde hair was down, loosely tied in a pony-tail. She followed silently as her mistress led us around, showing us the huge swimming pool, the gymnasium, and the beautiful gardens overlooking the shining blue Caribbean.

When she led us back into the house, it as through a low-level garage, off which she took us through a locked door into a short passageway, and then into a cool underground room, like a cavern. She flipped on the light, and the cavern was lit by four artificial torches in wall-sconces. Closing the door behind us, Marina stood back and allowed us to take in the scene.

'Welcome to my dungeon!' she said.

There was a big wooden St. Andrew's Cross, bolted to the far wall, with ringbolts set into its extremities, and snap-links dangling from each of them. A big table, with wheels and pulleys stood at one side, and beside it were a variety of benches, saw-horses and the like. A black velvet curtain was drawn across a recess, concealing God knew what, and there was a wide variety of whips and the like hanging from hooks on the near wall. There were no windows, and the whole atmosphere was deathly quiet. I looked at the faces of the others. My mistress was studying the implements on the walls, apparently engrossed, Marina had a smile playing around her lips, as she watched our reactions, and Ingmar was regarding her mistress with adoring eyes.

'Impressive!' said my mistress, as we left.

'We may have a little entertainment down there later,' said Marina, 'if you like, of course.' She looked at Susana as she said this, and then slipped her arm through my mistress's as we walked around the side of the house. My mistress looked up at her taller hostess, and smiled a smile of complicity. I felt almost faint with an ugly jealousy I hated to admit.

We got into the same stretch limo we had arrived in the night before, and drove perhaps twenty-five kilometres, past hotels and a golf course, until we arrived at a huge, modern commercial centre, where we parked in the executives' spaces.

The store was big, and luxurious, the clientele obviously well-heeled and cosmopolitan - I heard American as well as Mexican-Spanish voices. All the assistants seemed to be Scandinavian, and Marina indeed confirmed that she liked to employ pretty Swedish girls, as she felt it gave her a competitive edge.

I could tell my mistress was much taken by the shop, and especially by the special 'fetish' section, not exactly entitled as such, but sporting black walls and drapes, and featuring corsets and other 'restraint' gear, such as hobble skirts and some very high heels.

When we broke for lunch, my mistress and Marina blatantly fondled one another under the table as they sat opposite. Mistress Susana's mouth fell slightly open, her breathing shortened, her eyes narrowed, as she clearly enjoyed the other woman's caresses. I was dismayed, and felt badly let down. Looking across at Ingmar, I thought she was feeling the same way, but that was no consolation.

When we got back to the mansion, I left the others in the entrance hall, and went straight up to my room. I threw myself onto my bed, and sobbed. How could she do this to me? My beloved mistress? How could she?

I never heard the door open -- but suddenly, as if by magic, my mistress was sitting beside me, wiping away my tears with the hem of her dress.

'You silly, silly girl,' she said, 'I do believe you are really jealous -- jealous of Marina! How can you be? Marina is an old friend, and my partner, but you are mine, my dear Sylvia, a part of my very soul. I love you, you silly girl!'

With that she lithely hopped onto the bed, and drew me to her, kissing me deeply, before flinging her legs wide apart, and pushing my head down below her waist. Not wearing underwear had its points, I thought, as I felt the flat smoothness of her shaven belly against my cheek. Her legs were splayed as far apart as she could, and the glistening pink beauty of her exposed pussy was just asking to be kissed. I obliged, lapping her with my hungry tongue, encircling her growing, hardening clit as it emerged from its hiding place, teasing it with my stud, until she writhed and moaned. When she did so, I plunged my tongue deep into the dark hole of her warm, wet cunt, and simultaneously drove two long fingers into her arsehole. I knew exactly what my mistress liked, what brought her off, and her orgasm had the effect of bringing me to a climax without her having to even touch me.

When she recovered, her breathing back to normal, she said, 'But, Sylvia, my dear, what about you?'

'I am your slave, my mistress,' I said, 'it is more than enough to know that you love me.'

'But can I not do anything for you, darling?' asked Susana.

'You can hurt me some time soon,' I heard myself say, in a small voice.

'Oh, Sylvia,' she said, 'I love you so much!'

In the late afternoon, we spent some time relaxing around the pool, and I saw Marina speak to Susana before we all went in to get ready for dinner.

Susana called to me as I was showering. 'A maid has left your clothes on your bed, my dear. And she will be back to put your hair up.'

When I had dried myself, I went to see what I was to wear, and was surprised to find a sheer white short nightdress, fur-trimmed at the hem, and a pair of long white stockings -- exactly, in fact, what Ingmar had worn the night before. In my robe, I went through to ask my mistress what this was all about. She explained that Marina had told her that it was the 'house rule' that slaves were so dressed for dinner, especially if guests were invited.

'Oh,' I asked, 'and are guests expected?'

'I think one or two are due,' said Susana.

I slipped into the nightdress, and looked at my reflection in the big wardrobe mirror -- I may as well have been completely naked. My mistress completed my erotic appearance by insisting that I clip a chain of three heavy silver links onto my clit-ring. It would be quite visible, dangling below the hem of my nightdress. I slipped on a pair of very high silver stilettos, and, when a knock came on the door, admitted the maid, and meekly allowed her to put my hair up in a nice swirl atop my head. Taking great care with my make-up, as ever, I had to admit, that I felt very sexy, and my unfettered breasts looked really good under the filmy white material, my nipples hardened in anticipation for what I suspected was going to be an exciting evening. Now that I was so much more confident of my mistress's feelings for me, I felt ready for anything.

When we entered the dining room, I could see that some changes had been wrought.

Apart from the fact that there were two new women there, the table had been changed, for a larger one, with what appeared to be a turntable at its centre. I also saw that there were five chairs instead of four. But why, I wondered, five, and not six, if there were two new women present? I thought one of the women was familiar -- she seemed to have been at the store this morning -- the manageress? In any case, a beautiful, curvaceous blonde. The other, I had never seen before. She was a cat-like, lithe, coffee-coloured girl with braided hair, and slanting, almond eyes, wearing a towelling robe.

The manageress -- for such she was, I was told -- Eva, was dressed in a gorgeous red silk creation with a plunging neckline, whilst my mistress again wore the white lace dress with the spaghettis straps she had worn the previous night -- or one very like it. Only tonight, she was obviously naked underneath it, having decided to go without the lace panties she had worn the night before. Our hostess was dressed in black velvet -- again backless, and the picture of elegance. Ingmar and I, of course, were readily identifiable as slaves!

Marina told us to take our places, and I focussed then on the chairs, for the first time. They were unusual -- heavy, wide armchairs, with some sort of mechanism beneath. Mine was comfortable, somehow moulded to my backside. But Marina was addressing us.

'I hope none of you is wearing panties?' She went on, with scarcely a pause, 'If your dress is between you and your chair, please lift it out of the way, then relax the appropriate muscles, and press the large red button on the right hand arm of your chair. I can promise you a pleasant sensation.'

She smiled and watched all of our faces in turn. It was obvious enough what was about to happen, but the sheer sensation of the pre-lubricated, shaped dildo slowly but inexorably driving upwards into my cunt was exquisite, and had me squirming as its full length entered me.

'Now turn the little wheel at the side, for the level of vibration,' said our host, and I adjusted that too, feeling a lovely warm rippling in the very depths of my vagina. I glanced around, and some had their eyes half-shut, lips parted, as they all enjoyed their experiences.

The food was served, and we all ate in silence, wrapped up in our own sexuality, but, as we were finishing our sweets, the girl in the bath-robe, who had not been eating with us, appeared from behind me, flung down her robe, and leapt athletically across into the centre of the table. Marina pressed a button somewhere, and the turntable the girl had jumped onto started slowly and silently to revolve.

If we had expected a standard striptease, we were now disappointed, because the girl was already naked, apart from a fine gold chain around her waist, and a matching one on one ankle. She also sported long gold pendant ear-rings, and a gold dumb-bell through her pierced clit. She was immaculately made-up and manicured, and was altogether a magnificent creature. I don't think there was anyone around the table who wouldn't have taken her to their bed.

Music played softly as a spotlight played on this gorgeous creature, ho started to run her fingers through her hairless crack, slowly at first, then, opening her legs ever wider, faster, moaning audibly as she opened her labia with two long-nailed fingers, and manipulated, kneaded, her pussy, showing the black hole of her cunt as widely as she could stretch it, to everyone. She now switched her attention to her clit, teasing it from under its protective hood, easing it out until its shining head stood proud like a little prick, its decoration lewd and suggestive. She flipped over, and opened up her arse-cheeks with both hands, accepting a huge glass dildo as it was passed to her by Marina. She gave it a quick suck, and then rammed it straight into her anus, its corrugation readily accepted into her velvet tube. She groaned, then took it out, and put it aside. As the turntable revolved now, she was holding her buttocks wide apart again, this time demonstrating a huge gaping arsehole.

Now she returned to sitting position, and started to masturbate hard, using two long fingers, and now moaning deeply. Suddenly, she stiffened, let out a long, low groan, and squirted copious quantities of vaginal fluid out and actually over most of our heads, although some fell on Ingmar, who laughed nervously. We all applauded, and Marina, stopping the revolutions, handed the girl from the stage, awkwardly stepping over the table.

'We'll have coffee now,' she said, 'then the rest of the evening's entertainment.'

We sat around and drank coffee for a while, during which our recent entertainment re-appeared, to be introduced to us as Vanessa -- but this time she was dressed exactly like Ingmar and I. It transpired she was Eva's slave.