>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> WARNING! This story is only for adults over the age of 18 and contains Strong Sexual Content. It is intended as a work of fiction for ADULTS only, and the author does not in any way condone similar behavior. If you are under the age or 18 or reside in a state that prohibits such behavior, stop reading immediately! <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< A Novel: "THE CHALLENGE" BY SFMASTER Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only if you include this statement of limitation of use and notify the author by e-mail. The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format. However, individual readers may make single copies of the story for their own, non-commercial use. Copyright (c) 1997 by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to the author. I do want to hear from you! Contact me at: sfmaster@worldnet.att.net "The Challenge" Chapter One: The Challenge ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ By sfmaster@worldnet.att.net Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only if you include this statement of limitation of use and notify the author by e-mail. The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format. However, individual readers may make single copies of the story for their own, non-commercial use. Copyright (c) 1998 by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to the author. I do want to hear from you! "The Challenge" by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net Chapter One: The Challenge Part One: A Day in the Life Thursday June 4, 1998 When Janet finally awoke, Stephanie was gone from her bed. Stephanie's bedroom was nicely furnished with a large bed, dresser, small desk and chairs, and an attached bathroom. Stephanie had used Janet the previous evening, first in the library then the bedroom. Janet lay beneath the sheets, which were a mess from their lovemaking. Feeling her skin, Janet was sticky from her sweat and juices from herself and Stephanie, and she desired a hot bath. Around her neck was locked a leather collar, with matching bracelets on her wrists and ankles. The collar was chained to a ringbolt set in the wall above the bed, so Janet would not be going anywhere until she was released. Janet fingered the stripes on her naked body, remembering how during the last week that they had been administered by both Stephanie and Camille. She traced the red marks, wincing when she found a tender spot. Today was the seventh day of her service to Stephanie, Monday. "Good morning, Mistress Janet," greeted Camille as she stood in the doorway. "Good morning, Camille," Janet answered. "Your week is up, Mistress," stated Camille, "time to release you. Your vacation is over." Janet stood up from the bed, and Camille first released the collar chain. Then she unlocked the collar, wrist and ankle bracelets. For the first time in seven days, Janet was free of the instruments of slavery. She rubbed her wrists, and looked at herself in the mirror. Naked, her body was clearly marked from her week in slavery to Stephanie. She saw the marks that the whip and crop had left behind. Her breasts, stomach, thighs, and bottom all bore the marks that she had been used again as a slave. "Your bath is waiting, Mistress," said Camille. "Thank you, Camille." Janet followed Camille to the bathroom, where she had already drawn a steaming hot bath, with soapsuds floating in the water. Gingerly, Janet stepped into the bath. She winced at the hot water, but gradually lowered herself into the steaming bath. The hot water made her wounds sting and smart, but it felt good and sensual in the scented water. She lay back in the tub, almost ready to go back to sleep. "Ahh, that feels good, Camille, thank you," said Janet as she sat back in the steaming tub. "You have a busy day planned, Mistress Janet. And Mistress Stephanie is waiting downstairs with breakfast," pointed out Camille. "Yes, thank you." Janet was bathed and pampered by Camille. Her sweat was washed away, her skin treated for the marks of the whip. Her hair was washed and set, her nails trimmed and polished. Then Janet was dressed for the first time in a week, having worn only the collar and bracelets. She put on her panties and bra, and applied perfume between her breasts then behind her ears. Janet then put on a blue business suit, and finished by applying a red lipstick and a light rouge on her cheeks. Janet looked at herself in the mirror. While she had been a slave just an hour before, she now looked like any career woman. Except she wondered just what most people might think of her career! "You look very nice, Mistress Janet," complimented Camille. "Thank you, Camille. It was a pleasure being here for my vacation, and being used by you and Mistress Stephanie. Except that next time, you can use the crop on me more firmly. I won't break," advised Janet. "I'll remember that next time, Mistress. Breakfast is waiting." Janet led Camille downstairs, and they went into the dining room. Stephanie had a glass of orange juice in front of her, along with an open copy of the Times. "Welcome back, Mistress Janet," said Stephanie, rising as she kissed Janet on the cheek. "Thank you, Stephanie," replied Janet as she kissed her friend back in return. "Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes, Mistress," stated Camille. "Thank you," replied Stephanie. "Pour yourself some juice, Janet. So, did you have a nice time here on your vacation?" Stephanie asked. "Yes," answered Janet as she poured a glass of juice from a tray on the table and seated herself, "I was just telling Camille that she could have used the crop on me a little stronger." "You certainly have a strange way of taking a vacation, Janet. I know of no other Domme who asks to be a slave for a week. I may ask Blanca to use me sometimes, just so that I don't forget what the whip feels like. But to be a slave again for a whole week! Sometimes I think that you enjoy being a slave more than a Mistress!" "Really," Janet answered, "I'm sure that my slaves would beg to differ, the way I use them." "Just so long as you enjoyed yourself," said Stephanie. Camille, who had prepared a breakfast of omelets, home fries, bacon, toast, and coffee, interrupted them. She served the two of them, then withdrew to the kitchen. "Mmmm, I'm hungry," said Janet. "Yes, getting used does wonders for the appetite," observed Stephanie. "I lost five pounds this week, Stephanie. You really should run a diet center," commented Janet. "That's an idea, except I wonder if any of the commercial diet centers would let me use a riding crop," laughed Stephanie. "I don't think that the FDA would approve," replied Janet. Janet and Stephanie both broke out in laughter together. For a week, Janet had served Stephanie as her slave, in all of the often solemn and serious aspects of slavery. But now Janet was again free, and they laughed and chatted like two good friends. They made small talk as they ate, consuming breakfast quickly. Just yesterday, Janet had been serving Stephanie. Today, she was restored to being a Mistress again. It felt a little strange wearing clothes once again! Janet drank one cup of black coffee after another, enjoying the hot bitter taste as it went down her throat, warming her. It was nice, Janet thought, to be served, and not have to serve. "Thank you Camille," said Janet when they finished, "that was very nice." "You're welcome, Mistress," answered Camille as she began to clear away the dishes. Both women rose from the dining room, and Janet followed her friend into the library. Stephanie seated herself behind the desk, and Janet took a chair. How often the two of them were in the library together. "How does it feel to be leaving?" asked Stephanie. "Great. Ask me that when I get home," Janet answered. "What has Tina been doing for the last week while you were here?" "Entertaining her parents. I paid for them to fly in, gave them a tour of New York City, a Broadway show, and so on, so Tina has been very busy," stated Janet. "That's very good of you," said Stephanie. "Thank you. Tina is now my assistant so I think that it's the least I can do for her, don't you agree?" "Yes. I'm sure that they might have a different view of you if they knew how you used their daughter," laughed Stephanie. "Quite," Janet answered. "What else is on the agenda?" "Paperwork, interviews, reports. Plus I have a report due at my job, so I want to get that done today," stated Janet. "Janet, I don't know why you want to work," pointed out Stephanie. "I want to keep busy, I don't just want to be one of the idle rich. No, my job gets me out of the house, gives me something to do, something to look forward to." "Just so long as you like it," answered Stephanie. "Well, I have to be going," said Janet as she looked at her watch, and rising from her chair, "thanks again for the vacation." "Any time," Stephanie answered. Janet and Stephanie both rose, and walked to the foyer. Stephanie handed Janet her purse and car keys, then opened the front door. It was June, and already quite hot, so even a light jacket wasn't necessary. "Have a nice day, Janet," said Stephanie. "Thank you," said Janet as she kissed her friend. Janet's Miata convertible was waiting at the landing, and she got the keys from her purse. She opened the door, seated herself, started the car and drove off. Revving the engine, Janet enjoyed the sound of the exhaust. Stephanie opened the gate for her, and Janet drove out into the street. 'Why go home?" Janet asked herself, 'I've been in chains all week, I want to drive!' Janet pulled over to a parking lot and removed a scarf from the glove compartment, and tied it over her hair. Inside was also a pair of sunglasses, and then she removed her cell phone from her purse. She called Tina to say that she was going for a short drive, and to hold lunch. "Okay Mistress," Janet said aloud, "let's drive!" Pulling out of Greenwich, Janet found her way onto a country road where she could open the car up, and she enjoyed the sound of the exhaust and the wind blowing onto her face. Never breaking the speed limit (in her position as a Domme, the last thing she wanted to do was to call attention to herself) Janet drove fast and hard. The car, a red Mazda Convertible, had been a gift from one of her slaves. Jessica had recommended a friend of hers, Helen, to Janet two years earlier. Janet had trained her, but she was never sure if the woman had even liked being a slave. Until one day when the car was delivered to her house! Janet had accepted the car, and kept it registered for only six months during the year. It had displaced the Toyota in the garage, which now stayed outside. After enjoying a nice drive, Janet aimed the car for home. It would be nice just to keep driving, without a care. But Janet Davis, Dominatrix, had responsibilities to fulfill. Just as Stephanie would now be sitting down to her paperwork, Janet would have to attend to hers. Tina would have her complete schedule. Slaves to be trained, reports read, interviews. Janet had discovered that the life of a Domme was a busy one! Tomorrow, Janet and Jessica would be attending a fundraiser in Greenwich for a new cultural center. Janet, being a member of Greenwich society, had made a contribution, and was now expected to make an appearance. To give Janet a cover in Greenwich, Jessica had arranged a part-time job for her at one of the companies that she owned stock in at their corporate offices at a nearby office park. Janet was now a woman of means, who owned an estate, and had a job also. Actually, Janet thought to herself, it was good putting a suit on again, and going to work a few hours each week. She had an office, and a secretary, and put to use the skills and experience that she had gained from her own work experience. Janet had remembered the advice that Erica had given her, and had taken it. Janet swung her car into her driveway, and punched the button for the gate. She drove inside, and up to her landing. While Janet may have been on vacation, she didn't have any bags when she was serving Stephanie as a slave. "Mistress Janet," greeted Tina as she opened the front door. "Tina." "Did you have a nice time at Stephanie's?" asked Tina. "Yes, Tina," Janet answered as she entered the foyer, and Tina closed the door behind her. "Your schedule in on the desk in the library, Mistress." "Thank you, Tina," said Janet. On top of the printed schedule was a greeting card, Janet opened it, and found it was a thank you card from Tina's parents. When Janet looked up, she saw that Tina had entered the library and was looking at her. "Did you and your parents have a nice time?" Janet asked. "Yes, Mistress, thank you. We had a wonderful time. But how did you get those tickets to that show? They've been sold out for months," said Tina. "Let's just say that someone in that theatre happens to be my slave, Tina." "Thank you, Mistress," Tina walked over and gave her Mistress a hug and kiss. "You're welcome, Tina." "Mistress, can I show you something?" asked Tina. "Sure." "During your vacation, I was cleaning the paneling here in the library, and I found something," said Tina. "What was that?" Tina walked over to the wall, and began to knock at the wood. She banged away, until a section sounded different than the others. "It's hollow, Mistress. Like there's something behind the wood," suggested Tina. "You're right, Tina," said Janet. Janet banged away at one section at a time, and established the boundaries of the open area within. "Interesting," mused Janet, "in the movies, there's usually a catch somewhere." Janet pressed away at one spot and another, and finally her efforts were rewarded when the paneling clicked open. "Hmmm," said Janet, "success!" "I wonder what's inside?" asked Tina. "One way to find out," said Janet as she opened the panel further. "A safe!" said Tina. Janet tried the handle, and found it was securely locked. She turned the combination lock a few times, and the door still stayed closed. "Locked. Damn!" exclaimed Janet. "Perhaps you should call Mistress Blanca," suggested Tina. "Not a bad idea," Janet answered. Janet picked up the cordless phone, and punched in Blanca's number. She was surprised to find her lawyer on the other end. "Janet, what can I do for you?" asked Blanca. "I'm glad to get you in the office." "Just back from court, what's up?" "Found a wall safe in the library, that's locked. Did you know if Erica ever had a safe?" "No, but it wouldn't surprise me," answered Blanca. "Any ideas on how to get it open?" asked Janet. "Sure, Sing-Sing is just over the border," laughed Blanca. "Remind me to spank you when I see you next." "Sorry, couldn't resist. Anyway, let me go through my rolodex and I'll find someone in Greenwich to help open it......There we go." Blanca gave Janet the name of a company in Greenwich to call. "Thank you, Blanca." "Glad I could help, have to go. Clients coming in," said Blanca. "Bye," said Janet. Janet heard the connection cut on the other end, and she replaced the phone on its cradle. She looked at the number she had written down on a notepad. "Are you going to call, Mistress?" asked Tina. "I don't know," Janet answered, looking at the safe, "can I be alone Tina?" "Yes, Mistress," replied Tina. Janet sat down in the chair, after Tina had closed the doors behind her. She stared at the paneling, suddenly full of fear and apprehension. "Damn you, Erica," said Janet to herself. It had been two years since Andrea had written Janet to say that Erica had died in a traffic accident. Janet had learned that the name of her Mistress had been Sharon Taylor, from the newspaper article that Andrea had sent her at the time. Or was that really Erica's name? Janet sat back in the leather-covered chair and realized that the name that Erica had died using might not have been her real one either. Erica Riken. Alana Peters. Sharon Taylor. Janet wondered just how her Mistress had known just who she was at any one time. Now she stared at the safe. The smart thing to do, Janet thought, would be to close the panel, and forget that it was even there. But Janet had always wondered what other secrets that Erica had kept from her. Janet remembered the haunted look that Erica had when she last saw her, when she was driven away by Mistress Monique years ago. A look of impending doom on her face, of fatalistic acceptance of something. "I shall not pass this way again, Janet. I just have to go, I'm sorry," Erica had said. Remembering Erica's last words to her brought chills up Janet's spine. She had only seen a person look that way when they had been diagnosed with a serious disease, knowing that they were going to die. Was that what Erica had been keeping from her, and why? Suddenly, Erica's stated reason for her giving her estate to her two slaves, that she was getting married and starting a new life, seemed pretty hollow, which Janet did not question at the time. But now, two years after Erica's death, and after having established her own reputation as a Dom herself, Janet looked at the safe and knew that she would have to open it. Janet picked up the phone and pressed the buttons for the number. "Hello, my name is Janet Davis, I live in Back country Greenwich. I have a problem, I need a safe opened........." After a brief conversation, the locksmith said that he would be over shortly. Janet replaced the receiver on the cradle, and stared at the safe. She wondered just what Erica had placed within. Would she find dust, papers, money, or something else? It was the unknown that was what worried Janet the most. For the first time in years, of having lived her own life as a Dom, Janet now wondered if Erica could reach out from beyond the grave to affect her life somehow. "Mistress, are you all right?" asked Tina. "Sorry, I was lost in thought, Tina. I'm fine. Good thing you're wearing a normal outfit, we're about to have guests. Someone to open the safe. Said they'd be right over." "Have you read the interviews yet?" asked Tina. "No, I was lost in thought." 'Worrying about the contents of the damn safe,' Janet thought to herself. Janet attended to paperwork for a short time, then the gate buzzer sounded. Janet hit the button, and a truck drove up to the landing. A man in a uniform got out of the truck, and Janet greeted him at the door. "Someone called about a safe?" he asked. "Yes, that's me," Janet answered. "Where is it?" "In the library," said Janet, as she directed him inside the house. He looked at the safe, turned the combination lock around a few times, and turned to Janet. "Can you open it?" Janet asked. "Sure, just have to get some tools. Have it open in no time," he smiled. Janet watched from her desk, pretending to read her papers as he set up his tools then managed to open the safe in less than a half-hour. He showed Janet how she could reset the combination, told her about the manufacturer, and she wrote a check for him. Janet was again left alone in the library, except the safe's open door both attracted and repelled her at the same time. Taking a deep breath, Janet finally looked inside. The safe's door gave no indication just how big the interior really was. There were two shelves holding the contents. On one were some manila folders & envelopes. But on the other, in chronological order were a series of date books, neatly beginning in 1980 and continuing to 1992. Janet removed the first volume, and opened it. There, in Erica's distinctive handwriting, was her diary. The Diary of Alana Peters 1980 Janet's blood suddenly ran cold. Here was the answer to the question that she had posed to Stephanie a few times in the last couple of years. Would she ever know Erica's secrets? Now Janet knew that the name that Erica had used when she had been in submission to Janet years ago had been her real one. A chill went though Janet as she suddenly wondered what else she would discover about Erica. If the first page contained a bombshell like Erica's real name and identity, what else did the Diaries contain? Years ago, after Erica had departed, Janet had asked Stephanie if she would ever know Erica's secrets. Now she held Erica's diary in her hands, feeling as if Erica were again in the library with her. "Be careful what you wish for in life," Janet said aloud, "you just might get it." Janet closed the diary, her hands shaking. She felt like she was actually holding Erica in her hands, and she wanted to cry. Janet realized that she still loved Erica, or Alana, and always would. She clutched the book tightly in her hands, her skin turning white from the effort. Replacing the book inside the safe, Janet decided that it was not time for her to read Erica's Diaries. No, that would have to be done in the quiet of the evening when she could be alone. Even so, she looked at the spine of the book dated 1992, and another chill washed over her. For that was the year that she had asked her friend Sally to enliven her dull sex life, and had been introduced to Mistress Erica. Janet resisted the temptation to reach out, and open the book and read what Erica might have written about her. How Janet had worshipped Erica! Erica had placed Janet into submission, used her body under the lash, and taken her sexually. But had never hurt or humiliated her, all the while teaching her how to be a proper Dominatrix, readying her for the competition with Tiffany. Then Janet removed the Manila Folders, and found them full of Medical Records! Janet had expected bonds, or stocks. But Medical Records? She tried to read the doctors handwriting, but couldn't. 'Why can't doctors write like normal people?' Janet thought to herself. Janet was startled by a sudden knock on the library door, and she looked at her watch. "Enter," Janet directed. "Lunch, Mistress?" asked Tina. "Thank you, Tina, yes." "In the kitchen, Mistress?" "Yes, we have some reports to discuss. May as well make it a working lunch," suggested Janet. "Yes, Mistress," answered Tina. Janet replaced the records that she had found back in the safe, and locked the door, spinning the combination and double- checking that the safe was indeed locked. Erica's secrets were safe, for now. Tina had prepared a lunch of salad, sandwiches, and they ate together at the kitchen table, making small talk together. Tina told her of entertaining her parents in New York, and the fun that they had. Janet in turn told her of serving Stephanie, how her body was now again marked. "Did you enjoy yourself?" asked Tina. "Yes." "During my 'lease period' to Stephanie, I found her to be quite an exciting, sensual Mistress to serve," commented Tina. "I'll tell her you said that," answered Janet, "perhaps you might want to be used by her again." "Only after you use me first, Mistress Janet," replied Tina with a smile on her face. "That can easily be arranged," Janet answered, a smile on her face. In spite of their eating together, Janet and Tina did not discuss the reports, which remained unopened. Instead, Janet was glad to be home again, in her own house, with Tina. They discussed Tina's trip to New York, her caring for the Mansion, and other things. "What was in the safe, Mistress?" "Just some papers, Tina. Mistress Erica's papers." "Are you going to read them?" asked Tina. Janet pursed her lips together, her emotions raging. She had managed to contain them when she had locked the safe, but the thought of knowing more about Erica! "Perhaps later. And for being such an insolent, curious slave I can guarantee that you'll be used today, Tina." "Thank you, Mistress Janet. I've missed you for a week," said Tina, as she rose to clear away the dishes. "And I've missed you too, Tina." The kitchen clock chimed, and Janet saw it was 2PM. The day was just wasting away, and she wasn't getting anything done! "Tina, I'm going to go into the library and work on that company report that's due tomorrow. Hold all my calls, please?" asked Janet. "Yes, Mistress." Janet rose and removed a can of soda from the fridge, then adjourned to the library. She opened her briefcase, and removed her papers, then started working. She was in charge of sales for a company department, and it was her job to co-ordinate the various campaigns. Her part-time status was made possible because she was really just assisting. But still, Janet was determined to prove that she could do her job, and she had asked everyone's advice both above and below her in the company. She wanted to show that she really earned the sizeable paycheck that she was getting, not that she was there just because of Jessica. She had started one year ago, and Janet finally knew her way around. Janet learned what her job was, and her suggestions were received and finally having an effect. It was gratifying to see the sales figures improve, how the others now welcomed her ideas. Janet smiled when she thought of how strange it really was. No doubt the company gossip was that Jessica and Janet were lovers, and that Janet had merely been brought in because she was bedding the largest stockholder. Instead, she wondered what the company's gossips would think if they knew the truth that Jessica would be naked, and bound, with a ballgag in her mouth, at Janet's feet in submission to her! She worked, writing down ideas, checking one company report after another, finally making her decision. Then she turned on the computer, and really started working, typing out her report. Janet was completely lost in thought, and didn't even see how the time passed. Finally, the report was done. She transmitted a copy to work, since the meeting would be tomorrow, saved a copy both on the hard drive and 2 disks, then printed out a couple of copies on regular paper. Janet realized that she had not even changed out of her business suit that she had donned at Stephanie's, that she could have worked in a jogging outfit. Or nothing at all. "Mistress?" asked Tina from the doorway. "Yes, Tina." "Dinner is served," announced Tina. "Thank you, Tina, your timing is excellent," said Janet as she glanced at her watch, "six o'clock! Why didn't you tell me earlier?" demanded Janet. "Mistress, you were so involved in your work I didn't want to disturb you. Besides, you said that the report was due tomorrow, so I waited until you were finished." "Thank you, Tina, you're right. Are we having a barbecue?" asked Janet. "No, Mistress. Look outside," directed Tina. Janet had been so wrapped up her work, so deep in concentration, she had failed to see that what had been a bright sunny day was now dark with storm clouds. A sudden gust of wind came through the open window, rustling some papers on the desk. In the distance, Janet saw a flash of light and seconds later, the sound of thunder. "What's for dinner?" asked Janet. "Fried Shrimp, Mistress." "That will be quite nice," Janet answered as she closed the library windows and locked them, "and you shall be the dessert." "Yes, Mistress," replied Tina. * * * * * Janet had dressed herself in one of the other bedrooms in a simple leather bra, skirt, and a pair of modest heels. Stephanie's marks would take some time to fade, and Janet remembered just how she felt when her friend had administered them. Now, Janet was again Mistress. She admired her trim figure, kept that way through exercise. No extra pounds on her! Janet entered her own bedroom, and kneeling naked on the carpet was Tina. She was outfitted in collar and bracelets, which Janet had locked on her earlier. Seeing her submissive on the carpet made Janet's heart beat faster with desire. For the past week, she had been in submission to Stephanie and Camille. She had been used again as a slave. But now Janet was restored to the position that she had inherited from Mistress Erica. Janet was again in control of her own slave, and she wanted it to be a memorable night. "Are you ready, Tina?" Janet asked. "Yes, Mistress." On the dresser was a collection of Janet's toys: riding crops, a short whip, straps, chains, a flogger, ballgags. She had selected them with great care from the Dungeon downstairs. "Do you submit to me of your own free will, without coercion or duress?" "Yes, Mistress Janet." "That your body belongs to me?" "Yes, Mistress." "That you will obey me without question?" "Yes, Mistress." "What is your safeword, Tina?" "Mercy, Mistress." "Then we shall proceed," concluded Janet, "place yourself over the desk, slave," ordered Janet. Tina rose and laid her torso down on the empty desk. Janet had ropes ready, and secured her arms and legs, coiling the ropes and finally adding a single cinch to bind Tina more closely to the desk's legs. Janet noted that Tina's breaths were short, and she knew that Tina's heart was already beating fast with anticipation. After being Janet's slave for so long, she could read all of Tina's body language perfectly. Janet knew that Tina was aching with desire to be used by her Mistress. Janet reached her hand forward and began to massage Tina's upraised bottom, feeling the warm skin (which was going to be a lot warmer before the night was over); and making Tina squirm with want. Then she reached between Tina's thighs, and found that Tina's sex was already engorged with blood, her pussy wet with her juices. "Did you long for your Mistress?" sternly demanded Janet. "Yes, Mistress Janet." "Did you use any sex toys while I was gone, a dildo up your sex, perhaps?" asked Janet. "Yes, Mistress," quickly answered Tina. "In spite of my direct orders for you not to do so in my absence!" "Yes, Mistress. Sorry Mistress! It's just that I...." "If I want your answer, I'll ask for it," said Janet, "for being a disobedient slave, you shall bear the consequences." Janet found the leather-covered paddle, one that would redden Tina's bottom nicely. She displayed it to Tina, than whacked it against her palm for effect a couple of times. "How long since I last used the paddle on you, Tina?" Janet demanded. "I don't know, Mistress." "You should know. You should remember every time an instrument is used on you, so that you can report to your Mistress," stated Janet. Janet smiled, remembering that after every session that they did with a submissive Janet and Tina quickly wrote down what instrument they used, how many strokes and their severity, and how long a session lasted. Also how the slave responded to discipline, and if the session was pleasing to them or not. All of that went into the slave's file, both so Janet knew how their training was progressing and if the submissive understood what was happening to them. Then Janet would make certain that they would have to write in their Journal their feelings about their submission. Being a Dom involved a lot of paperwork! "Did you desire me while I was with Mistress Stephanie?" Janet demanded. "Yes, Mistress." "Then your desires have been answered," replied Janet. Thwack! Janet struck Tina's bottom with the paddle with a mild stroke, one that left a red imprint behind. Thwack! Janet struck Tina's other buttock. Thwack! Janet struck again. "Thank you, Mistress!" Tina cried. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! After a series of mild strokes, Janet would pause, only to begin again. Tina would moan and cry, and pull at the ropes tying her to the table. But Tina was tied quite tightly, and couldn't really move in her position. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Tina's bottom, which had been pink before, was now turning a deep shade of red as Janet continued her discipline. Janet glanced at Tina's face, and saw that Tina was smiling as each stroke was delivered. When Janet had counted to twenty, she stopped. "Enough!" "Thank you, Mistress Janet," cried Tina. "Kiss the paddle," ordered Janet. Janet offered the paddle to Tina, who kissed it as ordered. She then reached between Tina's reddened ass cheeks into her sex, making Tina squirm and moan. "Wet, aren't you?" demanded Janet. "Yes, Mistress," Tina answered. Still standing behind Tina, Janet reached forward and took Tina's breasts in her hands. Janet began to pinch and fondle Tina's breasts, and finally located her erect nipples. Janet pinched them with a gradual and ever increasing pressure that made Tina moan in her captivity. "Don't come!" ordered Janet. "No, Mistress," moaned Tina in return. "I am not finished yet," said Janet as she selected a riding crop with a leather pad at the tip. Janet then started to deliver very mild strokes of the crop under Tina's arms, which barely marked her skin. The new strokes drove Tina ever wilder with desire, and she pulled at the ropes holding her. "Mistress, please!" begged Tina. "Not yet, slave," Janet ordered. Janet continued using the crop on the back and inside of Tina's legs, where she knew that the skin was the most sensitive. Tina moaned with every stroke, even moving the table when Janet struck a particularly sensitive area. "Enough with the crop!" stated Janet, as she offered it to Tina, who kissed it just as she had the paddle. "Thank you, Mistress," cried Tina in response. Janet began to loosen the ropes that bound Tina to the table. When all four had been released, Janet stepped backwards from her slave. "You may rise, Tina," commanded Janet. Tina slowly got to her feet, putting on her weight gradually before she stood erect. "Thank you, Mistress," said Tina. Since it was June, the bed now had a light summer quilt, which Janet had thrown backwards. On the night table was a dildo, a small riding crop and quirt. "On the bed, Tina," Janet ordered. "Yes, Mistress." Janet locked Tina's collar to the chain hanging from the ringbolt set in the wall. Just the night before, Stephanie had done the same with Janet, after using her severely. In truth, Janet did not even need to dress up, but she wanted to. It was her turn again to wear her Domme outfits, instead of being a naked submissive. "You will now serve me, slave," Janet commanded. Janet unzipped her boots, undid her leather bra and skirt, and was promptly nude. She got on the bed, and opened her legs. "Service your Mistress." Tina placed her head between Janet's thighs and her tongue reached between the lips of Janet's labia, quickly arousing her. Then her tongue played with Janet's clit, making her moan with desire. Janet pressed her head back into the pillow as her sexual excitement quickly increased from Tina's attentions. "Make me come!" Janet ordered. Tina continued, thrusting her tongue inside Janet's sex, licking the walls of her Domme's sex, and making her moan with want. Janet bucked against the bed, her aching sex nearing climax. "Aaaaah!" Janet cried as the sexual tension inside her was released in a series of powerful orgasms that left her breathing ragged. She bounced on the bed, with Tina still between her thighs. Gradually, the sensations subsided, and Janet regained her senses. "Thank you, Tina," said Janet. "You're welcome, Mistress." "You may now lay down," ordered Janet. "Yes, Mistress." Tina now lay upon the bed, and opened her legs, even though she had not yet been ordered to. Janet picked up the dildo, and ran her hands over the plastic surface. The dildo was a flesh colored shaft about ten inches long, and Janet placed it between Tina's thighs at the entrance to her sex. Tina arched her back to make the penetration easier, and Janet thrust the shaft within. Tina's sex was already wet with desire, and Janet had no trouble pushing the dildo inside, making Tina moan and shake. "Have you missed me?" Janet demanded. "Yes, Mistress," moaned Tina. "Than I shall make you scream with pleasure, slave." Janet thrust the dildo within, then partially removed and thrust it again and again within Tina's sex. Tina moaned with pleasure, then bounced on the bed as she quickly reached orgasm. Once she climaxed, Janet withdrew the dildo, and buried her face between Tina's legs. Janet made love to Tina's sex, tonguing her labia and finally bringing her to climax again by stimulating her clit. She brought Tina one orgasm after another, making her scream her pleasure out in spasms of joy. She moved up the bed, and enfolded Tina in her arms, passionately kissing her Tina after time. Janet tasted her own juices on Tina's lips, and Tina tasted herself on Janet's. Hugging and kissing her slave, they warmed each other up, sweating in the summer heat. When they finished, Janet looked at the clock. It was after midnight, the bed and sheets were a mess and sticky with their sweat. Janet fell asleep after Tina, a smile of contentment on her face. Friday June 5, 1998 The next morning, Janet unlocked Tina's collar. They showered together quickly, since Janet had to get to work. After a fast breakfast, Janet dressed in her blue business suit, got her case from the library, and was off to work. Her job at Xylex did not demand a lot of her time, unless she was working on a special project or report. When she arrived at the company, her secretary had copied the report as ordered, so Janet would make her presentation on time. The meeting was brief and to the point. Janet delivered the report and her findings, made her suggestions, and everything was done by noon. The other executives removed their papers from the desk as the meeting broke up, and Janet prepared to check in her office, then leave for the day. "Janet?" asked Ronald Jarvis, the company president. "Yes, Ron." "Could you stay for a moment, please?" he asked. "Sure," Janet answered, not moving from her seat as the others left. Janet studied Ron's face, wondering what he wanted. Was she going to get canned again? "Janet," he said when they were alone, "you've done a fine job here. I admit that I was a little skeptical of the way you were brought on board, but you've proven yourself." "Thank you," Janet answered. "Which is why I'd like to expand your position to full time. You'll get a bigger office, a car, an expense account, and travel too. You've earned it." "Thank you, Ron, but no. I have to refuse, I'm sorry," Janet said in reply. "But why?" "Ron, I don't need the money, I'm quite well set in life. I have something else in life that occupies most of my time, so this is a nice change of pace for me, really. But I don't want one to impact on the other." "The job is always open, if you want it," he said, disappointment clearly evident on his face. "Thank you," Janet answered. They left the boardroom together, making small talk. Janet checked in with her secretary, did some minor paperwork, and was off the premises by two PM. Driving back to the estate, with her briefcase on the car's floor, Janet wondered just how Ron might react if he knew that one of the company's stockholders, Jessica Danvers, was Janet's slave. Just before her vacation to Stephanie, Jessica had stayed over for two days. Jessica had been naked, collared, and kneeling on the floor with a ballgag in her mouth, waiting to serve her Mistress. Now that was a thought! Later that evening, after doing her Domme work at home, Janet changed into a modest designer dress. Then she picked up Jessica at her home, and they drove together to the fundraiser. The Cultural Center was a place for artwork, concerts, and book readings. As a member of Greenwich society, Janet had contributed. Now, she was expected to make an appearance. Janet recognized some of the people there from the newspapers, and Jessica could identify almost everyone there. In her position as a Domme, Janet had kept a low profile in Greenwich. She was polite when introduced, and when someone tried to draw her into conversation she politely answered a few questions and moved on. She was known as the woman who had inherited the Riken Estate, and little else. Janet was determined to keep it that way, which was why her job was so important as a cover story. After an hour and a half, with the band playing in the background, Janet was about to seek out Jessica and suggest that they leave. Janet did not have any sessions planned for tonight, so she wanted just to sleep. She got a drink from a passing waiter, and stood, alone for a moment. "Janet Davis?" asked a female voice, behind her. "Yes," Janet answered, turning to face the woman. Her companion was a smartly dressed woman in a designer gown, which Janet had glimpsed twice in the last hour. She was in her thirties, with an attractive figure (Janet undressed every woman with her eyes), black hair, a pretty face with high cheekbones, and red lips. "Could I speak to you privately?" she asked. "I'm really just about to leave," Janet replied as she sipped at her drink. "It's about a business and personal matter." "What can I do for you?" asked Janet, ready to give the woman Blanca's number, and let her lawyer warn this person off. "My name is Cheryl Branford. Here is my card," she said, pressing it into Janet's hand, "read the front and back." On the front was Cheryl's name and phone number. On the back, neatly typed, were the words: Mistress Janet Davis, I know all about you. If you wish to remain a Mistress, I want to be trained as your slave. Else I will expose you. Janet's blood ran cold when she read the words, even though it was quite warm. The sweat on her back suddenly turned to ice. "Do we understand each other?" asked Cheryl. "Is this some kind of joke?" Janet asked. "No joke," answered Cheryl, "I'm deadly serious." "I don't know what you're talking about." "Let's not play games, Mistress," Cheryl softly replied. "What do you want, money?" asked Janet, suddenly afraid of blackmail. "It's not money that I'm after, Mistress. I'll even give you the usual gift that your other affluent slaves bestow on you. I want to be trained by you, no other Mistress will do." "This isn't how I work," Janet answered. "Then you'll just have to learn to accept me, Mistress. Unless you want me to expose you as a Dominatrix in public and face the embarrassment. You have my number, call me to arrange a schedule. I'll be waiting. You have a week, do you understand?" "Yes," Janet answered. "Lastly, you must not tell Mistress Blanca Sanchez or Mistress Stephanie Richards about me, or have me investigated in any way. I shall tell you this again in a package that I will have delivered to your house on Monday morning." "Why?" "That's for me to know, Mistress Janet. I'll expect your call in the next few days." With the threat still in the air, Cheryl walked away, just in time for Jessica to suddenly appear at her side. "Janet?" asked Jessica, "are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost." "No. Please drive me home, Jessica. I don't feel very well." "Yes, Mistress," answered Jessica softly. Later than evening, after Janet had tried to sleep, she awoke at 2 AM. Her sleep had been filled with nightmares, which made her feel even worse. Tina had slept in her own room, and had not asked Janet what was wrong when she locked herself in her bedroom sobbing. Janet put on a light robe and slippers, and walked down to the kitchen for a drink. After a glass of water, she went to the library, and poured a large sherry. "Now what?" Janet asked herself. Janet walked to the wall safe, unlocked the wooden panel, then opened the safe itself. She removed the first of Erica's Diaries, then seated herself behind the desk. Taking a deep breath and a swallow of sherry, she opened it to the first page, and began to read... "The Challenge" Chapter Two: Death and the Resurrection +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ By sfmaster@worldnet.att.net Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only if you include this statement of limitation of use and notify the author by e-mail. The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format. However, individual readers may make single copies of the story for their own, non-commercial use. Copyright (c) 1998 by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to the author. I do want to hear from you! "The Challenge" by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net Chapter 02: Death and the Resurrection Part One: The Debt June 1980 For Alana Peters, life could not get any better this June day. The stock deal to take the client's company public had hit the street this morning, and she had made it happen. She had worked for the investment firm on Wall Street, and this was her first big deal. All the months of hard work, negotiations, nights spent in New York, all were paying off now. She had taken an old family firm public, and her investment firm was issuing the stock. For them and her it meant commissions, fame, and fortune. Already there was talk of an article about her in the Wall Street Journal, and she was sure to make partner. She had spent the night before in NY, and had taken the car, a red Mustang convertible, into the City. Once the deal went public, let the big boys get on TV. Alana decided to hit the road and take a few days off. She would swing by her mother's house in Greenwich, pick up a few clothes, and then head up the coast, maybe end up in Boston. She was driving north on the Merritt Parkway and the two lanes and sharp curves challenged her driving, forcing her to downshift to maintain control. She enjoyed the sound and feel of the five liter V8 and manual tranny as she raced, well over the limit, into Connecticut. Her black hair streamed behind her in the wind, as she had forgotten to wear a scarf. Driving with the top down was the most exhilarating feeling! Beep! She turned to her left, and saw a red Pontiac Firebird. The man behind the wheel gestured, and floored his gas pedal. Alana, not wanting to be outdone, responded in kind, and slammed the Mustang into fifth gear. The speedometer jumped to over a hundred, and she was pushed back into her seat. Rounding a curve, the Mustang encountered a puddle of water and oil. It's rear wheels lost traction, and it began to spin. First the car hit the center median, then bounced back to the shoulder; it's tires screaming in protest. The car hit a pole at nearly a hundred, ejecting Alana who had not worn her seatbelt. Alana screamed as the car disintegrated, her body buffeted by the forces tearing the car apart. Her body flew through the air, finally striking the pavement, her bones and flesh breaking on impact. Police Report: Connecticut State Police PO Richard Parker While on patrol on the morning of June 16, I observed two vehicles, a Pontiac and Ford Mustang, racing at a high rate of speed on the Merritt Parkway. Even before I could turn my lights on and pursue, the Mustang had spun out of control after sliding on a wet patch of road, and ejected the driver onto the pavement. Exiting from my patrol car, I called for an ambulance. The driver, a young woman, was badly injured given the force with which she hit the pavement. I was surprised that she was still alive when I reached her. The driver was very lucky, given that right behind me was a doctor from Greenwich Hospital who stopped after seeing the accident. She was a trauma doctor, and kept the woman alive. Else she would have died quickly from her injuries. Medical Report: Dr. Stephanie Richards While driving on the Merritt Parkway to work on June 16, I was witness to a horrible road accident. Alana Peters was driving a red Ford Mustang Convertible, and was ejected during an accident. I stopped to provide emergency medical aid, and was assisted by PO Parker who was already on the scene. Her right leg was broken, along with collarbone, skull fracture, concussion, multiple broken ribs, punctured lung, and massive internal injuries and bleeding. Luckily, an ambulance was returning empty and heard the call from PO Parker, and was on the scene in 2 minutes. Even with the proper equipment, Alana went into cardiac arrest before we got her to the hospital. It took all of my skill to restart her heart, saving her life. Alana Peters is lucky to be alive. However, when she awakens, she will be spending months, maybe a year in the hospital to recover and will require physical therapy to restore normal use to her body. Her constant companion now will be pain as her body slowly heals from the heavy injuries that she has sustained. She may regret surviving the accident given the long and painful path to recovery. End Medical Report Part Two: The Conscious Choice July 1981 Alana drove her new BMW into Manhattan and had parked it at a garage not far from the address that she had been given over the phone. Scared like hell, she had walked without the cane a couple of blocks to a residential building. She had pressed the button, and been admitted within. Her first view of the House of Domination was a letdown. Just an office where she was asked a few simple questions by a receptionist. Then she was conducted into another, private office, where she faced another woman. Her companion was an attractive woman in her early 30s, nicely dressed in a silk blouse and plaid skirt. "Take a seat please," she directed, "drink?" "Diet Coke." "Sure." The woman stood up and walked to a refrigerator, and removed 2 cans. One she handed to Alana then reseated herself in her chair. "Thank you," said Alana. "How may we help you?" asked the woman. "I want to be used by a Dominatrix," bluntly stated Alana. "No doubt in your mind?" asked the woman as she drank her Coke. "None." "Why?" "I want to know what it feels like to be in submission," Alana replied, sipping at her soda, her throat suddenly bone dry from fright. "Have you ever had these fantasies before?" asked the woman. "Why all of these questions? I'm not a cop." "No need to worry," the woman laughed, "we have some highly prominent people amongst our customers. If we were ever shut down, I just have to make one phone call and the heat would be off. Which is why you never see a place like ours busted." "Sounds interesting," Alana replied. "Why do you want to submit?" "I want to feel a lash and riding crop, to be used, to be dominated by another woman." "All right, we can provide that," said the woman, "and you must learn to obey all of my orders." "Are you a Mistress?" "Yes, Mistress Martine. Before any client goes under the lash, I like to ask a few questions. You pass. Payment will be in cash, used bills only. Small ones, please. You will be conducted to one of our Dungeons where my slave maid will have you undressed and ready for my use. You can still back out now, if you want." "No," sighed Alana, "this is what I came here for." "Good," answered Martine as she stood up, "see you in the Dungeon, then. Naked." Another woman then conducted Alana, this time in her early 30s to the Dungeon. Except that this was the first time that she had seen anything related to Domination. The Maid was dressed in a form fitting rubber outfit in black, and she was perched on very high heels. She escorted Alana to a small anteroom, when she was made to undress. Silently, Alana removed all of her clothes. Her blouse, skirt, underwear and shoes were all taken from her. The Maid then produced a box, inside of, which were leather cuffs, which were locked around her wrists. Then a collar was placed around her neck, to which a leash was attached. Alana was made to stand up, and her wrists were locked behind her back. Finally, a fur lined leather blindfold covered her eyes. She was now naked and helpless, and at the mercy of others. "Come," she was instructed, feeling a tug at her collar. Alana obeyed, and let herself be led a few steps. She had no idea what room that she was in, except that she was soon made to kneel. Just a few months before, she would have been incapable of doing that simple action. Even though the room she was in was quite warm, she still shivered, and Goosebumps covered her skin. She heard the unmistakable sound of the click of a woman's heels, and then her blindfold was suddenly removed. She looked up, and there was Mistress Martine! Except that now she was dressed in a black leather corset, elbow length black leather gloves, black stockings, and matching black high heels. "Mistress?" asked Alana. "Silence, slave, you will speak only when you are spoken to," Martine said in a firm tone of voice. Alana swallowed from fright. This was what she had sought out, what she wanted. To submit to someone, and finally to feel the lash. "Have you ever been whipped before, or spanked?" asked Martine. "No, Mistress." "Then we shall have an easy session. I don't want to scare you off, so that you won't return." Alana then was pulled to her feet like that of an errant child. Martine marched her over to a chair, and Alana was then draped across Martine's knee. She was going to be spanked! "You will count out each one," ordered Martine, "if you fail to do so, then I have a paddle waiting. Several, in fact, everything from leather to wood." "Yes, Mistress," answered Alana. Thwack! "One!" "Two" "Three!" "Four!" "Five!" For the first time since childhood, Alana was over someone's knee, being spanked. Martine delivered each blow so that it struck in a different place on her bottom. Alana had the unmistakable feeling that she skin was gradually becoming warm. Also that she was slowly starting to be sexually aroused by her little punishment. "Twenty!" cried Alana, who was startled when Martine stopped. "Thank your Mistress!" "Thank you, Mistress Martine," cried Alana. Alana was the pulled to her feet by Martine, who marched her over to a chain hanging from the ceiling. Her wrists were released, then locked above her head to the chain. Then Martine locked similar cuffs around her ankles that were attached to a bar that would keep her legs open. Martine gestured, and the chain was suddenly pulled taut. Alana strained to keep her toes on the floor. Her slave handed Martine a riding crop, and she flexed it in her gloved hands. Alana remembered how for her 16th birthday, she had been sent to England for a summer to learn how to ride a horse. She had been given a crop, but had never used it. Her friends had played around by using them on each other, but she had not joined in. Plus there were those stories that she had heard about the crop being used on people! "Prepare to feel the crop, and you will not have to count, slave," taunted Martine. Alana tensed, and she soon felt a stripe of fire run across the outside of her left thigh. Swallowing, but remaining silent, she felt each stroke of the crop as it struck her exposed nakedness. Martine was keeping to her word, as the strokes only stung Alana's flesh. They were quite mild in reality. Compared with the effort and pain of getting back up and walking between two parallel bars. "Stronger," whispered Alana. "What was that, slave?" asked Martine. "Stronger, Mistress, please?" begged Alana. Martine then began to strike Alana with even more force in each stroke. She drew her arm back and delivered each stroke methodically. Alana felt the finally she was in the position that she wanted to be. Her breathing was fast and flushed, her nipples were erect, and she knew that she was wet between her legs. Just like during therapy. Alana was sexually around by the pain that she was undergoing once again. Then she felt the gloved hand of the Mistress probe her between her opened legs. Alana moaned when she felt as Martine push the gloved fingers into her sex, happy at the invasion. "My, you're wet!" exclaimed Martine, surprise on her face. "Whip me, Mistress?" begged Alana, "Please?" "Have you ever been used by a Dominatrix before?" asked Martine. "No, Mistress." Martine exchanged the crop for a long, sinuous, black leather whip. The oiled leather gleamed in the light, and Alana wondered just how it would feel. Suddenly, a lifetime of watching old movies on television came back to her. She was going to go under the lash! "Kiss the handle," ordered Martine. Alana did as she was ordered. Martine then coiled the whip, and drew her hand back to strike. The whip lashed out, and coiled itself around Alana's stretched form. When the tip struck, Alana cried out. Not with pain, but pleasure. For the whip in its first stroke had released the sexual energy that the spanking and crop had stored within her. Martine delivered stroke after stroke, each one with increasing severity. Alana's body pulsed and shook as she was wracked with one orgasm after another. This was like what she had experienced in therapy, but multiplied many times. Finally, Martine ceased. She presented the handle to Alana, who kissed it again. "I would like to see you after you've dressed," said Martine. "Yes, Mistress." Alana was let down by the Maid. She was escorted to a bathroom, where she could freshen up and dress. She washed her sweat-covered body off with a wash rag, and found that her pussy was sopping wet. Her body was covered by the marks from the crop and whip, but she was happy. Not in any pain at all. Alana dressed, and was helped by the Maid. In the same anteroom where she had been questioned, Martine was waiting, still in her leather outfit. She was drinking another Coke, and smoking a cigarette. "Have a seat. I've written you a bill," directed Martine. "Thank you," said Alana. Alana looked at the bill, and opened her purse, extracting her wallet. Nothing had been touched. She removed the fee, plus a generous tip for Martine, who had earned it. "You're either a liar about not having been used before, or you're a natural that's used to pain. I watched your face when I was using you. You loved it, didn't you?" demanded Martine. "Yes." "Serving a Mistress before, or loving the pain?" "The pain," Alana answered. "Then you're a painslut," observed Martine. "A what?" asked Alana. "Painslut. Were you satisfied by my work?" "Yes, Mistress. I'll be back again. Thank you." Alana took her exit, convinced that what she had paid for was worth every dollar. She had gotten what she wanted. Walking around the neighborhood she entered the first bar that she passed. She ordered a stiff drink, and bummed a cigarette from the bartender. Alana inhaled the smoke deep into her lungs, her skin still smarting from the use that she had taken from the Dominatrix. She sat quietly at the bar, watching the daily life of Manhattan pass by the windows. Just a few miles from here stood Wall Street, and her job, where she was still on Medical leave. But somehow, that no longer seemed important. Alana smoked her cigarette, recalling the weeks-spent in pain after the accident as her body slowly healed. The days she did nothing but cry in her hospital bed, begging for painkillers. Her mother Eve, shouting at the doctors for something to dull her daughter's agony, only to be told that it wasn't proper medical practice just to give medication for that purpose. Then slowly she had begun to heal. Her body repaired itself, and she was taken out of bed. First to sit up, then to stand, next to therapy. Every step that she took was sheer hell; every time she used her arms to lift weights was torture. One day, during an intense session to force her to walk Alana found that the pain had excited her sexually. Her pussy was wet when the therapist had exercised her legs to force her to walk. The first time, she had been ashamed of herself. But each time that she had gone for therapy, Erica found that she would enjoy the pain. Her sex became wet, her nipples hard with desire. When she had been recuperating at home, with a Nurse to take care of her and a visiting therapist to continue her exercises Alana suddenly remembered the Voice. She had read the paper while she worked in Manhattan, and had looked with wry amusement at the ads in the back from Professional Dominatrixes. So Alana had resolved that when she was finally able to walk on her own that she would find a Dominatrix who would provide her with both pain and pleasure. Alana had done that, and would go back for many visits to see Mistress Martine, who would take her a little further along with each session. She enjoyed being placed under the crop and lash, having a gag between her teeth. Afterwards, at home she would look and admire the marks on her skin. Deciding that she wanted more, she then discovered the S&M clubs in Manhattan. She learned to disguise herself by using makeup and a wig. Then she rented an apartment in Rye, and bought an old car and took that into the city at night instead of the new BMW. Alana Peters, daughter of wealth, Ivy League University Graduate, and future Wall Street Partner realized that she was now playing a dangerous game. That people in her position in society didn't just enter the world of D/s, without a huge scandal erupting. So she resolved that she would use the wealth that her position in life had given her to create another life: where she could become another person. * * * * * Greenwich CT: January 1982 "Don't make this any harder than it has to be," cried Eve Peters, as mother and daughter sat together on the couch in the library. "Mother, please! We've already argued about this before. There's nothing that will change my mind," said Alana, swallowing, as she brushed her black hair away from her eyes. "Maybe another doctor or clinic," suggested Eve. "No, I've had enough doctors," shouted Alana. "Alana, please! You don't know what you're doing!" "Yes, I do mom, please!" begged Alana. The afternoon sun shone through the library windows, and a breeze came through the open windows. Mother and daughter, arguing, as they had for months. They sat on the couch together, and tears flowed onto both their faces. "I've had you followed, do you know that?" asked Eve, "what's the benefit of wealth if you can't use it? I know you have an apartment in Rye, just over the border. That you bought an old car so you wouldn't use the new BMW I bought for you after you finished therapy. That you dress up on Friday and Saturday nights in a wig with plenty of makeup and go to those horrible sex clubs in the city and.....and," Eve buried her face in her hands, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. "And what, mother?" "The first couple of times, the detectives couldn't get in. But then they bought some leather clothes, and billed me, and followed you. And saw you getting whipped in public!" cried Eve. "I'm sorry mother, but it's true." "You're not going to deny it?" "No." "That's even worse!" "Mom, I've got a confession to make. During therapy, I found that I liked pain. After I could walk again, I started going into Manhattan and found a Dominatrix to use me. I enjoyed it!" "Is that what you like, being beaten?" asked Eve shock on her face. "It's not like that. Then I wanted more, so I started going to the S&M Clubs." "No, no!" cried Eve, aghast at what her daughter was telling her. "Mother, I just can't explain it, maybe I was just this way all along, and didn't know it. Until the accident, and the therapy, and all the pain I underwent, brought it to the surface." "That you're a sex pervert!" accused Eve. "No mom. Slave, submissive, bottom. But it's just what I feel." "You might be discovered. Think of the scandal!" "I already have. Why do you think that I disguise myself? One night, I was in a club, and saw a Wall Street lawyer that I once worked with. He didn't recognize me." "What happened to the debutante? To the girl we hosted a ball for in Manhattan? Who went to Radcliffe and Harvard? Who learned horseback riding in Europe? Is that what you want to be, a sex slave?" "If that is what it takes to be fulfilled, yes, mother." Eve broke into tears, sobbing. Alana reached outwards and held her mother tightly to herself, trying to comfort her. She grabbed a handful of tissues from a box on the couch, and dried her mother's cheeks. "No, no, I've already lost one daughter, I won't lose another," cried Eve. "She left of her own accord, you know that. Just as I must, but I'll always be nearby. I promise I'll always live near here, in Greenwich, Darien, or just over the border in New York," consoled Alana. "But what about the scandal?" "I'm taking care of that," answered Alana. "You're planning something, tell me what. Now!" demanded Eve, "I know that you've been seeing a plastic surgeon in Manhattan, and a lawyer." "You won't like it," cautioned Alana. "I don't like the fact that my daughter is going to sex clubs, either. What are you up to?" "All right, mother. You said it yourself just now. What is the use of great wealth if you can't use it? Well, I'm going to use some of it, for me." "How?" "In a few weeks, you won't have to worry about Alana Peters going to sex clubs, because Alana will no longer exist. I'm having the plastic surgeon give me a new face. Meantime, the lawyer is creating a new identity for me. Everything from birth certificate to college degree." "No!" screamed Eve, "no!" "Mother, it's the only way that my face won't end up on the Daily News! The only way to avoid a scandal is to cease being Alana Peters. I've decided to give up my former life and create a new one, one where I can explore my sexuality without worry. I'm going to take a normal job, live in a regular apartment, and cease to be one of the upper class. I gave up my Wall Street job because I want something else in life! I'm sorry," comforted Alana, as she held her mother in her arms, and dried her tears. "What's going to be your new name then?" asked Eve, disbelief in her voice. "Erica Riken," answered Alana. * * * * * In February, Alana had gone for plastic surgery. Alana Peters had disappeared into South America. Erica Riken then suddenly appeared and rented an apartment. She had gone from working a Finance job on Wall Street to being a bookkeeper for a liquor distributor in Darien. When she looked in the mirror, Alana no longer looked back at her. Instead, there was someone different. Someone new that could explore the new life that she had chosen. Gone were the Yacht Races, Horse Shows, Golf (that she had hated anyway), and summers at Martha's Vineyard. Along with the Gucci gowns, unlimited expense accounts, and Louis Vuitton handbags that she had liked. 'I've crossed the Rubicon,' Erica said to herself one evening, as she drove into the city. Erica was wearing a clingy black dress, heels, and had even made some friends in the scene. Finally she was free to find a Dom, someone that she could be serve as a slave. Part Three: The Wrong Dom September 1982 Erica drove her seven year old Chevrolet up the driveway to her Master's house. She had spent the day shopping, doing chores, fully aware that she wouldn't be returning home until late Sunday. Past the point where she would be able to get anything done before the workweek again started. Daniel had been lately asking for her to begin her slavery after work on Friday night, but Erica had refused. While it was true that she did want to serve, Erica still needed time to recreate herself. To let the two women who inhabited the same body to reconcile themselves into Erica Riken. Daniel owned a house in Portchester, NY, just over the border in New York. About a forty-minute drive from her apartment in Darien, CT. He owned a company, or so he told her. They had met one night at an S&M club in Manhattan. Erica had found him very attractive. Slim, athletic, well built, he seemed the very model of a man that she had always been attracted to. He usually dressed in black, leather of some kind. For several months now, she had belonged to him. They had started by going to dinner together, and he had charmed her thoroughly. Since Daniel was to be her first Master, he had told her that everything that she was going to learn about submission was to come from him. So he had ordered her not to read any books about S&M, and she had obeyed. Erica locked her car, and put her keys in her purse. She walked to the front door, and opened it with a key that Daniel had given her. Since it was summer and still quite warm, all she was wearing was a blouse, skirt, and modest heels. Locking the door behind her, she quickly stripped herself of all of her clothes, hanging them in hall closet. On the small table was a collar and bracelet set, which Erica rushed to lock upon herself. Erica locked the cuffs around her ankles, then her wrists. Brushing her long black hair around her neck, she locked the leather collar around her neck. New to her confinement in recent weeks was a ballgag. Erica picked the object from the table, opened her mouth wide, and inserted the red rubber ball into her mouth. She buckled it tight at the back on her neck, breathing through her nostrils. Finally, she knelt down on the carpet, and locked her collar to a chain attached to the wall. Then she locked her wrists together. Erica was now bound and helpless, with a key nowhere in sight to release her. She leaned herself again the wall to wait. It took only a short time for the ball between her teeth to become uncomfortable. Once, she had not closed the leather straps tightly enough, and Daniel had punished her severely. So afterwards, Erica had always obeyed his orders. Bound as she was, Erica didn't know if she was alone in the house, or if her Master was upstairs. She had been ordered not to enter the house beyond the foyer. Some weekends Daniel would be in the house, other times he would be returning home. Either way, Erica felt vaguely uneasy about her vulnerable position, that she shouldn't be helpless this in this manner. Resting on her knees, even though she was on a piece of carpeting, soon became uncomfortable. While she had told Daniel about her accident, and that her body really wasn't fully healed, he didn't seem to care. After what seemed like an eternity, she heard the key turn in the lock. Erica felt a breeze of outside air brushing against her naked skin, and she remained rock still, facing into the house. She didn't know who had entered. She felt like squealing when her ass cheeks were roughly parted, and a finger probed her tightly closed anal opening. Erica was glad when she received a couple of spanks on her behind. That meant her anus was safe. For now. Erica was then pulled to her feet, and she quickly took a glance at Daniel. He was dressed in a summer shirt, shorts, and sandals. He unlocked the chain from the wall, and led her into the living room. He made her sit down on the couch, and removed her ballgag. "Thank you, Master," said Erica as she took several deep breaths. "You're welcome, slave. Did you wait long?" "No, sir." "Good. I made Dinner earlier; all you have to do is reheat it. I'll unlock your hands, and then you can put everything in the oven. Then we'll eat." "Yes, sir." While Erica considered herself a good cook, and had offered to prepare Dinner on numerous occasions, Daniel still insisted on cooking himself. Even though he was a lousy cook, in Erica's opinion. Still, he had roasted a Chicken, which he had managed to cook without it being dry or tough. They ate together, him clothed, Erica naked. When they were done, Erica cleaned up, and washed the dishes. "Thank you, sir," said Erica. "You're welcome, slave." Glancing at the clock, it was now 9 PM. She knew that Daniel would take a shower, change, and would be ready to use her. Which was what she wanted, she desired. To be used and wanted by a her Master. Erica was then pulled over to a chair, and her wrists were locked behind her back. Her collar chain was then locked to the chair, making her helpless once again. Daniel's hands touched her breasts, and her nipples quickly became erect. He touched her stomach, and playfully tickled her, making her giggle. "Be back soon, slave. And don't go anywhere!" he admonished. "Yes, sir," Erica said in response. Erica waited patiently, indeed, what else could she do, as Daniel prepared himself. Some weeks, he had blindfolded her. But not this time. Erica wondered if this was by design, or just what she perceived as erratic behavior. Daniel preferred to use her while wearing a black leather vest and matching leather shorts. Once he had finished bathing & dressing, he reappeared in his usual outfit. "Ready, slave?" "Yes, Master." Alana was released from the chair. In the basement of the house, Daniel had built a small playroom. While nothing like the Dungeon that Erica had been used in by Mistress Martine, it still contained an impressive amount of D/s toys. Daniel pulled Erica along, down the stairs. Erica was glad she wasn't hobbled, else she would have had trouble negotiating the steps. The playroom was one of the basement rooms, and the walls had been painted black. Small but intense lights shone from the ceiling, which provided some illumination. Ringbolts were mounted on the walls to secure slaves to, there was a bondage chair that would allow access to the occupant's sex, a leather clad bench, and a cabinet to hold various toys. Erica had been Daniel's slave for months, and she never knew what would be awaiting her. In recent months though, something had changed. It had begun when Daniel had told her to stop seeing her friends that she had just recently made, and that she wasn't supposed to read any books on the scene. She had uneasily complied with his orders. She was placed on a rug in the center of the playroom, and made to kneel. She did so in silence, awaiting Daniel's next move. He got a riding cop from the wall, where it had been hanging. Then he walked back to her, and placed its tip under her chin. She shivered, nervous about what would happen next. "Do you accept your discipline, slave?" Daniel asked. "Yes, Sir," Erica quickly answered. "Prepare to be used then." Erica soon found herself hanging from a ceiling chain, her legs opened by a spreader bar. She was now totally vulnerable to whatever Daniel would do to her. This was what she had waited for, what she had wanted all week. First striped and then used sexually by her Master Daniel. She didn't have to even look at herself to know that her nipples were hard. "Count, slave!" Daniel ordered. The first stroke with the thin crop was delivered across her exposed sex, making Erica cringe with pain. Normally, Daniel would work gradually up to striking her sex. Instead, he had begun there, and Erica suddenly feared what would happen next. "One!" "Two!" "Three!" Daniel maintained a steady rhythm of strokes with the crop, each one landing on a different place on her exposed body. Hanging by the chain, her legs held open by the bar, and counting each stroke, Erica soon began to perspire. She could feel the drops running down her exposed flanks, and she grew ever more excited after each series of strokes. "Twenty." "Twenty-five." "Thirty." Erica realized that she was now in for a severe session, having been cropped far longer than usual. In spite of the large numbers of strokes, and the fact that she felt like her skin was on fire, she had entered the point where she could "ride the pain." Divorcing her mind from her body, she went beyond the usual pain/pleasure feeling that she usually felt while being used. "Kiss the crop," ordered Daniel. Erica suddenly came back to Earth, her mind and attention elsewhere as she again realized where she was. Quickly, she kissed the crop's handle, again and again. "Thank you, Sir!" Erica stuttered. "You were somewhere else." "Yes, Sir!" He held her in his arms, which were also covered in sweat from his exertions, and kissed her. He forced his tongue into her willing mouth, and she kissed him passionately in return. "Would you like to be whipped?" he asked. "Yes, please, Sir!" Daniel smiled, then walked over to the cabinet. He replaced the crop on the wall, then withdrew a long sinuous black leather whip from the cabinet. It was a supple, oiled piece of leather. And it would hurt terribly! "Ready, slave?" Daniel asked. "Yes, Sir!" "No need to count, darling." With the first stroke of the whip, Erica exploded into a series of explosive orgasms. The whip would curl itself around her naked body, then come to rest with an explosive crack. It struck between her breasts, and legs. She screamed with both pleasure and pain, all at the same time. Tears fell from her eyes and down her cheeks as she felt the wonderful release that she had been waiting for all week. The strange inversion of pain and pleasure that she had craved since the accident and therapy. Erica didn't know, nor did she care, how long she was whipped, or even how many strokes. But when it was finished, and she hung limply from the chain, she was glad. Daniel first released the cuffs on her ankles, then released her wrists. "Thank you, Master," breathed Erica. "You're welcome, slave." Daniel carried Erica upstairs into his bedroom. He washed her off with a towel, then he proceeded to strip and clean himself off as well. Then he jumped onto the bed, and began to kiss her all over. He started at her feet, and moved up her legs to her sex, then stomach, her breasts, and finally her mouth. Erica enfolded him in her arms, and opened her legs to accommodate him. His cock was already erect and hard, and he entered her wet slit easily. His cock was long and hard, and he penetrated her, making Erica moan with desire and want. In no time, he established a rhythm as he drove her into the bed. Again and again, time after time. Having already experienced orgasms while being cropped and whipped, Erica came quickly. Daniel held back, extracting the maximum amount of pleasure that he could from her. "Ooooooh!" Erica moaned, "ooooh!" Finally, they came together, both experiencing orgasms at the same time. He then lay beside her, tired after his exertions of having used her both in the playroom and in bed. "Thank you, Master," said Erica. "You're welcome, darling. I'd like to ask you something." "Yes, Sir?" "You work for a liquor distributor, don't you?" "Yes, Sir." "I want you to steal me a case of whiskey," he asked. "I can't do that. I've never stolen anything from any place that I've worked," Erica answered, "and liquor is valuable stuff. We have a security firm keeping an eye on everyone, and tight inventory controls. And liquor is a controlled substance, too." "I want you to steal a case of whiskey," Daniel repeated, even louder. "Sorry, I can't. I'll gladly buy you one, sir, as a gift......." Enraged, Daniel got up off the bed and removed a cane from the dresser. With pause or mercy, he delivered ten swift and harsh strokes to Erica. Cringing from the unexpected and sudden attack, Erica curled into a ball to shield herself from the cane's impacts. Crying from the sudden change from pleasure to pain, Erica was then slapped by Daniel. "Disloyal Bitch!" he roared. He then turned her onto her stomach, flattening her onto the bed. Before she realized what was happening, Erica felt her ass cheeks being forced apart. "No!" cried Erica in horror, "no, please!" she begged. Erica had never really liked having her behind invaded; the very thought had always repelled her. She knew that Daniel's stiff cock would deeply invade her, opening her anal hole. Daniel didn't bother to use any lubricant of any kind. His cock was rammed inside her, forcing its way to her puckered opening. "Open up, cunt!" roared Daniel. "No, sir," cried Erica, "please," she cried as tears fell from her eyes. Even though her bottom hole was closed tight, Daniel managed to force his cock inside her. Erica resisted, then tried to open herself. But Daniel pushed himself inside her, and Erica's anus hurt from the unwanted intrusion. When he finally penetrated her, Erica screamed. Then she felt his hot come squirt itself into her anus, the final humiliation. She had not screamed that way since the day she had been ejected from the Mustang, with death a certainty facing her. That night, Erica cried herself to sleep, with Daniel totally oblivious to her, uncaring. * * * * The next day, she took a shower in the morning, and was horrified to see red in the tub's water. Her ass was sore, and hurt! Later, she took some toilet paper & Vaseline, and cleaned out the blood from her behind. Erica wanted to cry. What had happened to Daniel? He had been a kind, caring Master for months. He had fulfilled all of her desires, training her, disciplining her. But taking her in the rear against her wishes! Afterwards, they ate breakfast together, which Erica had prepared. She had made batter, and had heated up a waffle iron, which had gone unused until she had become his slave. They ate juice, waffles, and coffee together. The Times was spread on the far end of the table, but neither of them looked at the paper. After they had finished, Erica brought the dishes into the kitchen to clean up. She was washing the dishes in the sink, wearing an apron, when she suddenly felt Daniel's hands surround her and hug her from behind. "Erica, I'm sorry," Daniel began, "I don't know what came over me." "Daniel....." Daniel turned Erica towards her, and kissed her. He held her tightly, pressing her apron-clad form against his. He was wearing an old sweatshirt and pants, and looked slightly mussed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have used you against your will like that. I'll never do that again." "Thank you, Sir," replied Erica. For the rest of the day they made leisurely love in the bedroom together. Sometimes, Daniel would strike her with the crop, but it was only for a mild reminder of Erica's position. It rained, and seeing the drops on the windows made the day seem even more dreamlike and lazy. Finally, though, afternoon had come and Erica had to leave. She again showered, and dressed. "Erica?" Daniel asked. "Yes, Sir?" "Before you leave, I have to tell you something." "Yes, Sir." "Next week, I'm taking on a new slave, who will be a companion for you," said Daniel. "Thank you." The thought of sharing Daniel was one that Erica had never considered! "Her name is Lauren Singer." "The Challenge" Chapter Three: The Interview +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ By sfmaster@worldnet.att.net Archiving permitted, reposting is permitted; but only if you include this statement of limitation of use and notify the author by e-mail. The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format. However, individual readers may make single copies of the story for their own, non-commercial use. Copyright (c) 1998 by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to the author. I do want to hear from you! "The Challenge" by sfmaster@worldnet.att.net Chapter 3: The Interview Part One: The Gordian Knot Monday June 8, 1998 Mistress Janet sat behind the library desk, staring at the photographs and file on the blotter. The pictures and personal information had been delivered to Janet's estate Monday morning by a messenger service, and Tina had signed for them and given the large envelope to her Mistress. When Janet opened the envelope and removed the manila folder, it had taken all of her strength not to display her shock to Tina. Instead, she had fled to the sanctuary of the library, and closed the doors behind her. As long as she was inside, it would take something important for Tina to intrude. So Janet could study the file in peace, at least for a while, before she decided on just what to do next. Inside the folder, which tab bore the label "Branford, Cheryl" was all of the usual information that Janet would have about a new slave. Pictures of her, clothed and naked, complete with measurements. A recent medical report. A lengthy biography, beginning with her date of birth (August 1963), her education (a degree at Stamford University), and a job history. Lastly, there was a sealed envelope on which was typed "Mistress Janet Davis." 'How in hell does this woman know what information I need before taking on a new slave?' Janet thought to herself. 'Everything here but the final interview and her explanation before going under the lash for the first time!' Of course, Janet had written her explanation on her second day in slavery, after having seen Tiffany used in the Dungeon. Janet, as Mistress, always provided a demonstration to a new prospect before putting them under the lash. This gave them a chance to see a scene, and to back out. A few did, thanking Janet for her honesty. But the rest, just like Janet herself, had stayed. Then they were forced to write a lengthy bio before going under the whip. It was, Janet thought, the only really practical way of working. Sitting back in her chair, Janet gazed at the pictures, which must have been taken by a professional photographer. It was the nude photographs of Cheryl that worried Janet most. She was seen standing up, seated at a chair, and finally reclining on a couch. 'Why should a woman do that?' Janet asked herself silently, 'to be sent to a complete stranger? And a Domme at that?' Janet studied the photographs, trying to connect them to the few seconds of conversation that she had with Cheryl. She looked carefully at Cheryl's eyes and face, her body language, the way that she held herself. The manner that she displayed her bare body, breasts and sex, even her bottom. 'Surely she knows that I am going to mark and use that body of hers, to stripe and leave welts on her flesh,' Janet thought to herself, 'why?' What sort of woman, a wealthy woman at that judging by her job history, be doing forcing herself on Janet? Cheryl lived in California, and Janet would have to check the address. But it was obvious that she lived in an affluent manner. Cheryl could have any Domme she wanted, so why had she come East to impose herself on Mistress Janet Davis? The woman was quite pretty, and had a beautiful body. A good figure, moderate sized breasts, a narrow waist, tight ass, and pretty legs made her a nice looking girl. An attractive face, with high cheekbones and a mane of black hair made her quite good looking. Janet again considered Cheryl's date of birth. Cheryl was 35, and here she was placing herself in submission to a Mistress. Janet recalled that she had been 25, and sexually bored, when she had been introduced to Mistress Erica. Here she was at age 31, a successful Domme, and Cheryl was older than her by a few years. So why did this woman want to submit to Mistress Janet Davis? What had driven her from her home in California to Greenwich? To come out of the blue, and threaten Janet with exposure. Why? If Cheryl had come to her via the usual route, recommendation from another one of her slaves, or from another Domme, there would have been no problem. Instead, it was a mystery. And Janet hated mysteries. "Okay, Mistress Janet, what next?" Janet asked herself. Janet opened the envelope, and inside was a typed letter. Janet read: Dear Mistress Janet, Enclosed you will find all of the usual relevant information that you require for a new slave in training. If you wish any additional information, you may contact me and I will gladly provide it. Under no circomestances are you to reveal my presence to Mistress Blanca Sanchez and Mistress Stephanie Richards, two Dommes who I know you are connected with. Lastly, if I hear that you have engaged any kind of private detective or law enforcement to check up on me in any way, I will expose you as promised. Cheryl Branford Janet felt like balling up the letter and hurling it across the room. Ever since she had met Cheryl, she had briefly entertained the idea of having Cheryl investigated in some manner. However, Cheryl had already anticipated that avenue! Exhaling in frustration, Janet got to her feet to pace the library. What the hell was she going to do now? In all her time as a Domme, she had never heard of this particular problem ever coming up. It was one thing to get blackmailed. But Cheryl was willing to pay her for being trained! Janet felt boxed in. Every avenue that she would have taken had been blocked or anticipated by Cheryl Branford. There was only one thing now that Janet could do, which would be to take Cheryl on and hope for the best. After all, Cheryl had said that if Janet trained her, then Janet's position would be safe. Just yesterday, Janet thought, she had been secure wearing Stephanie's chains. Today, somehow, nothing seemed secure just now. Janet seated herself again behind the desk and picked up the cordless phone, and dialed Cheryl's number. "Cheryl Branford." "This is Janet Davis calling." "I was waiting to hear from you. Did you get my package this morning?" "Yes," Janet answered. "Is that all of the usual information that you require?" "Yes, how did you know?" Janet asked. "That's my affair," replied Cheryl, "have you made your decision?" "Yes, I'll do as you ask," Janet softly replied. "Good. When do you want me to drive over?" Cheryl asked. "I usually send a car." "But I know about you, Janet. That won't be necessary." "Yes it will be. My Maid and assistant, Tina, will know that something's not right if you just come on your own. I have a standard operating procedure. And you will be just one more new slave." "I understand. When do you want me?" asked Cheryl. "Since I already have your address, tomorrow at 9PM, for an interview. After that, I'll schedule your first session for the weekend. The car will be at your place at eight fifteen." "Thank you," said Cheryl. "Be prepared to learn," Janet advised. "I will, Mistress." Janet then cut the connection, and placed the receiver on the desk. Who was really in control here? Mistress or slave? Janet sat back in her chair, comparing just how popular culture made Dominatrixes out to be some kind of all-powerful Amazons. When in reality, D/s was a complicated interplay between Dominant and submissive. But that didn't solve her immediate problem, which was Cheryl Branford. Janet was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come," Janet ordered, glad for the interruption. The door opened to admit Tina, who brought in a tray of coffee and cookies. "Mistress, can I offer you something?" asked Tina. "Thank you Tina, that was very nice," said Janet as she folded the letter and replaced it inside the envelope, "place the tray on the table, and pull up a chair." Tina did as she was ordered, and poured Janet a cup of coffee and selected a few cookies on a dish, and handed both to Janet. Only after Janet had taken a few sips of the steaming black liquid and approved did Tina pour a cup also then sat down as well. "Why the treat?" asked Janet. "You seemed a little down, Mistress," Tina answered, concern evident on her face. Since she had become a Domme, Janet had become an expert on reading body language and facial expressions. She had to be, to properly gauge a slave's reactions. During interviews, under the lash, while being sexually used, even while sleeping. Janet had learned about the fine line between pleasure and pain, and what she had to do with her slaves. "Thank you Tina. I'm sure that you'll quickly replace the five pounds I lost while being in servitude to Stephanie." "Yes, Mistress. Is that file for a new slave?" asked Tina, indicating the pictures on the desk. "Yes," Janet answered, passing her the pictures and bio. "Very pretty," commented Tina, "I wonder why she wants to be a slave?" "We'll know tomorrow when she comes for an interview, and then perhaps I'll make her stay the weekend to be used." "Haven't had a novice for a long time, Mistress," observed Tina. "No, I guess not," smiled Janet in response. They both finished the coffee and cookies together, and Tina piled the cups and saucers on the tray. "Thank you, Tina," said Janet. "You're welcome, Mistress Janet," Tina answered as she left the library and closed the door. In the years that they had been together, Janet had made Tina her assistant. If Janet had been a selfish, wanton Mistress, she would have used Tina again in the library for a quick orgasm or two. And Tina, as slave, would have had to oblige her, delaying her tasks. Tuesday afternoon Tina had requested that she have off, and Janet had agreed, giving her the Toyota. Janet even wanted her to have the BMW, but Tina had refused. Tina would finish up her chores, get dressed, and have a few hours personal time. Janet exhaled, and realized that she was behind on writing the reports on her own slaves. In addition, she had to answer correspondence from other Dommes. Finally projects from her cover job as well. It was going to be a long time until tomorrow evening, and Janet was more scared that she had ever been in her time as a Domme. * * * * * Janet and Tina watched the limousine pull up from the front windows. Tina was dressed in a normal Maid's outfit of black satin, stockings, and modest heels. Janet had decided that a regular white silk blouse and black leather skirt would be just fine. "Conduct our new prospect into the library," Janet ordered, as she walked to the library. "Yes, Mistress," said Tina as she walked outside to help Cheryl, who was wearing the dark glasses that cut off her sight. Janet closed the library door behind her, then seated herself behind the desk and turned her chair around so that she was facing outside. In a few moments, she heard a knock on the doors. "Enter," Janet ordered. She heard the footsteps of two people enter the library and come to rest in front of her desk. "Mistress Janet, Cheryl Branford is here," said Tina. "Thank you," said Janet as she swiveled the chair around to face her companions. Janet surveyed Cheryl, still as beautiful as she had been the previous night. She was wearing a blue dress, with a matching handbag and heels. Her lips were colored with a bright red lipstick, her hair was set, and she exuded a trace of expensive perfume. "Welcome. I am Mistress Janet Davis. Tina, you may leave us," ordered Janet. "Yes, Mistress," said Tina as she closed the library door. "Now then. We can be alone, take a seat and we can talk in private." "Yes, Janet," Cheryl answered. "That was your first mistake, Cheryl. You must address me as Mistress while you are in this house." "I'm sorry, Mistress," answered Cheryl as she seated herself. "Why are you here?" demanded Janet. "To serve, Mistress," answered Cheryl. "You live in California, yet you have come to Connecticut. You are wealthy enough to have any Domme you want. Why do you want my services?" "I'm told that you are one of the best Mistress Janet." "So you have come clear across the country to be my slave? You'll have to do better than that, Cheryl," criticized Janet. "I have my reasons which I shall disclose at the proper time," Cheryl answered. "Really, and when will that be?" Janet asked. "At the end of my successful training as your slave, providing you fulfill my conditions." "And what would they be?" questioned Janet. "I ask three things," began Cheryl, "first that you train me like any of your other slaves. Second that when I'm ready, you loan me to another Mistress, but not to Blanca or Stephanie. I understand that's quite a normal procedure to loan out a slave to experience a new Mistress. Third, when I have been fully trained, I shall extract a price from you. I want to see just how devoted to the idea of being a Dominatrix you are." "That's quite a list of demands," countered Janet, "why can't I tell my two closest friends about you?" "That's my affair." "What kind of price are you talking about?" Janet asked, "money? Blackmail?" Cheryl opened her designer purse and removed an envelope, which she lightly tossed onto Janet's desk. It landed, right on target, in front of Janet. "I said I was willing to pay," said Cheryl, "I believe that's your usual fee for taking care of your wealthy clients, Mistress Janet." "I can still refuse, I don't like any of this," angrily replied Janet. "I could still expose you," threatened Cheryl. "Yes, you could. Except that I'm rich enough myself never to have to worry about working again. It might be a little embarrassing, I would have to stop for a while, perhaps set up shop elsewhere. But then you wouldn't get trained by me, would you?" "That's true, Mistress. So in exchange for my silence, I would like to be trained, Mistress Janet." "If I accept, your silence in exchange for training, then you must be like all of my other slaves. You must obey me, take all of my orders, and discipline. Allow yourself to be used by me, or my Maid, or any of my Domme friends. Do you understand?" "Yes, Mistress. I accept all of your conditions in order to be your slave," replied Cheryl. Janet paused to look carefully at her new prospect, who seemed sincere and honest. She didn't have any of the signs of someone lying to her. "What makes you think that you are worthy of serving me?" asked Janet. "I don't know, Mistress." "Good. I prefer honesty. Have you ever served a Mistress before? Been spanked? Naked in front of other women?" demanded Janet. "No, Mistress, never." "Excellent. I have not had the pleasure of training a novice for quite some time." "I'll try to be a good slave, Mistress," said Cheryl, sudden fright in her voice. "If you become a slave, there will be all of that, and more. You will be kept naked, or any way that I desire. You will be used, sexually. Punished physically with anything from a hairbrush to a whip, and covered in red welts. Is that what you desire?" Janet demanded. "Yes, Mistress," Cheryl answered. "I shall use you in any way that I want. You shall learn your limits, and a safeword beyond which you will not be used. Do you understand?" "Yes, Mistress." "You can still back out now," Janet pointed out, "except that since you've pressured me to train you, I don't think that you'll want to leave." "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl. "Ordinarily, at this time, I would ask that my Maid serve as a little demonstration. But I'm a little tired of using my devoted slave Tina to serve as my whipping girl. Since you're so enthusiastic about being my slave, why don't you remove all of your clothes so that I can see what a lovely body you have? That's not a polite request, Cheryl, that's an order," coldly said Janet. Janet noted that Cheryl appeared to be stunned by her order, and visibly shaken. It was direct, and to the point. "You do want to serve a Mistress, now don't you?" said Janet, "are you disobeying my first order?" Janet asked in a stern tone of voice. "I....." "Strip, slave, and quickly," commanded Janet as she removed a riding crop from the top drawer of her desk, and displayed it to her companion. Janet placed it over the envelope that Cheryl had tossed on the desk. Casually, Janet took the envelope from the desk and opened it with a letter opener. Inside were several brand new hundred- dollar bills, crisp from the bank. Whoever Cheryl was, she didn't want for money. "I gave you an order, slave," said Janet coldly. Cheryl removed her heels, then stood up and unzipped her dress, which she carefully placed on the chair. She removed her bra, and then her pantyhose and panties. In a matter of moments she was naked before Janet. "Turn around slowly, with your hands clasped behind your head. I want to inspect you," ordered Janet. If the photographs showed Cheryl as lovely, in person she was one of the most beautiful girls that Janet had ever seen. Janet desired nothing more than to have this beauty service her. But that would come later. After Cheryl had her first taste of the whip and crop. Cheryl did as she was told, slowly displaying herself. The photographs didn't lie at all. When she was done, she again faced Janet, but did not look at her directly. "Very good," said Janet as she rose from her chair, "now we move on." Janet circled Cheryl two times, before she finally stood in front of her. Janet reached out, and took Cheryl's right breast in her hand, squeezing it slightly. Cheryl gave her no response. Janet then pinched Cheryl's erect nipple, making her flinch. "There is more to come." With her index finger, Janet traced the outlines of Cheryl's breasts, her underarms, and her flat stomach. Then she felt Cheryl's ass, finally giving her a mild swat on her behind. "Owww!" cried Cheryl. "Place your hands on the desk, with your legs spread," coldly ordered Janet. Cheryl did as she was told, and stood in silence, waiting for Janet's next move. Her breathing was already rapid and short. Janet then pushed Cheryl downwards, and she complied quickly. Janet opened Cheryl's ass cheeks, and peered at her puckered anal opening. Just for good measure, she swatted Cheryl's behind a couple of more times. "You'll have to keep that behind of yours clean," commented Janet, "lest I make you wear a butt plug all day. Do you understand?" "Yes, Mistress." Then Janet reached between Cheryl's legs to her sex, and played with her pussy lips. Then Janet held Cheryl's outer lips between her fingers and squeezed tightly. "Owww!" cried Cheryl. "Silence!" Janet then pushed her fingers inside Cheryl's already wet sex, and then pressed Cheryl's clit, making her move in response. "Stand still, slave. You wanted to serve a Mistress, didn't you?" Continuing, Janet pressed further, digging her nails into Cheryl's labia, finally making her cry out, tears flowing from the corners of her eyes. Which was exactly what Janet had wanted. "At least you're not a virgin," observed Janet as she pressed her nails into Cheryl's nether lips. "Owww!" cried Cheryl. Janet then delivered four swats with the flat of her hand to Cheryl's bottom, one after another, steadily increasing the force of each blow. Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat!! "Owwww!" cried Cheryl. "Silence until you are spoken to," said Janet, "or I'll strike you again, and much harder." The final blow had been delivered with such force that Cheryl lost her footing and staggered under the impact. Her bottom was now a nice shade of red and would be sensitive for days to come. Cheryl would now have a reminder of her first visit with Mistress Janet. "If you react this way now," suggested Janet, "how will you react when a whip wraps itself around you? Or when I deliver one series of strokes after another with the riding crop? How will you hold up then?" demanded Janet. "I, I don't know, Mistress Janet," stammered Cheryl. "Good," said Janet, "you may stand back up." Janet faced Cheryl, and placed her hand under Cheryl's chin. Then she reached forward, and planted a kiss on Cheryl's mouth. When Cheryl responded, Janet forced her tongue inside Cheryl's mouth, holding her tightly. Finally, Janet released Cheryl, and left her gasping for breath. "I can use any part of your body at any time, for whatever reason. I can place you in a constricting corset for weeks to alter your figure. Or a dildo up your cunt all day and perhaps a butt plug in your behind. Or whip you for my own amusement and pleasure till you are covered in red stripes. Or anything else that I might possibly desire to do with your body. Do you think that you are equal to being used like that?" Janet questioned. "I'll try, Mistress Janet." "Good," said Janet as she resumed her seat, "what were your plans for this weekend?" "I wanted to see some friends on Long Island, Mistress." "Cancel them," Janet bluntly ordered, "one of my most loyal slaves has had a family problem, and could not be with me. You shall now have your desire, Cheryl. Your first weekend with me as your Mistress. You will be here from Friday night until Sunday at noon. You will work naked with my Maid, who will have the freedom to use you. I shall whip and crop you, chain you at night, use your body in any way that I want. Do you understand?" "Yes, Mistress," tearfully answered Cheryl. "This is your final chance to back out. Be warned that you are going down a dangerous path, and when you finish, it will be too late," stressed Janet. "I want to be trained as your slave, Mistress Janet." "Good, then get dressed and I shall call the car for you," Janet answered, "and beginning Friday, your life shall never be the same again." * * * * "If you were still wearing my collar, Janet, I'd pick up a crop and give you a good thrashing," said Stephanie as she rested on the bed, "for being such an uninspiring lover this evening." Janet and Stephanie were in Janet's bed, after a night out together that had begun with Dinner, a late movie, then drinks and finally lovemaking at Janet's Mansion. Their date had been arranged long before, and Janet had been looking forward to it. Until Cheryl had arrived to unsettle her composure. "I'm sorry, Stephanie," apologized Janet. "What's wrong Janet?" asked Stephanie. "Nothing." "Liar." "Just worried about something, that's all," lied Janet. "The last time that you were silent about something was Erica's grand plan to have you and Tiffany compete to replace her. I hope it isn't something like that," commented Stephanie. Stephanie rolled onto Janet, enfolding her into her arms. The bed was a mess, the sheets wet with their sweat. In short, a normal evening of lovemaking for two good friends. "Let me give you a massage," offered Stephanie. Janet turned over onto her stomach, and Stephanie straddled her. Stephanie's firm hands began to massage and knead Janet's back. "You're a mass of tension," commented Stephanie. "Guess so," Janet answered. Stephanie continued to massage and knead the muscles on Janet's back, gradually loosening up the tension. Janet relaxed under her friend's efforts. "That's better," commented Stephanie, "relax, and that's an order!" "Yes, Mistress." "I'm going one day to have to send you Wendy," offered Stephanie. "Who's that?" "One of my slaves, she's a masseuse at a local health club. She can do wonders with her hands and some scented oil. But she's very particular, though." "How?" Janet asked. "Only, and I say only, use your hand, a leather covered paddle, or a riding crop on her. Nothing else! She hates the whip, period!" "We have to abide by her wishes," said Janet. "That's better, now turn over," ordered Stephanie. Janet did as she was told and Stephanie began to suck on Janet's right nipple, quickly making it erect from her attentions. One of her hands reached under the sheet, and began to fondle Janet's engorged sex. "Wet little minx, aren't you?" asked Stephanie. "Yes, Mistress," Janet answered. "Since you serviced me so indifferently, perhaps I can make you feel a little better," said Stephanie. "Thanks, lover," said Janet. Somehow, it wasn't the sex that Janet wanted from Stephanie. Rather, she wanted just being in bed with her best friend holding her close. She stroked her friend's hair and shoulders, and held Stephanie tightly to her. 'Why,' Janet asked herself, 'do I have to face these problems as a Domme? First Erica's competition, and now Cheryl? No other Mistress seems to be confronted with them.' Janet lay back in bed, allowing Stephanie to work on her sex. All of Janet's troubles were eased for a while as Stephanie buried her face between Janet's thighs and began to work on her sex. Soon, Janet felt wave after wave of orgasm wash over her. 'Has it really been four years since Erica's faked death, and Stephanie becoming my best friend?' Janet asked herself. "Stephanie," Janet asked, "kiss me, instead." Stephanie was soon kissing Janet, who was lying on the pillows. Janet tasted herself on Stephanie's lips. "Thank you for being my friend, Stephanie," said Janet, as she held her lover close to her. "You're welcome, lover." Janet held Stephanie close to her, and she clung to her tightly. Janet longed to tell Stephanie the truth, just as she had during Erica's competition. But she held back, and let sleep claim her instead. She drifted off, the sounds of the night coming from the open window. Part Two: Cheryl's First Use Friday June 12, 1998 It was Friday evening nearing 10 PM, and Janet and Tina were waiting for Cheryl's limousine to arrive. Janet had chosen a short black leather dress, and she had ordered Tina to wear a black latex maid's uniform. The weather was not yet too hot, still comfortable. They were together in the hallway, waiting. "Tina," Janet began. "Yes, Mistress," answered Tina. "I have something important to tell you. This new slave, Cheryl, is going to be a little different than normal, but I can't tell you why." "Is that why you've been acting strangely, Mistress?" asked Tina, concern evident in her voice. "Yes. And you're the only one to know about this! Not a word to Blanca or Stephanie, please!" "Yes, Mistress. You know I'll do whatever you ask." "If it appears that I break procedure, or do anything out of the ordinary, please understand that there will be a reason for it." "Yes, Janet. I understand." Janet reached over and kissed Tina on her cheek, and silently embraced her. "Thank you, Tina. I love you." "I love you too, Mistress," answered Tina. Their conversation was interrupted by a buzz from the front gate, indicating that the limousine had arrived. Tina pressed the button to allow the car to gain entrance, and Janet walked back the library, closing the doors behind her. Seated behind the desk, on which she had again placed Cheryl's file, Janet waited. She summoned up all her courage, wondering what her third encounter with Cheryl would be like. Cheryl had demanded to be her slave, had forced Janet into a corner. Her thoughts were soon interrupted by a knock on the door. Janet wondered just how many times that Erica must have sat here, interviewing her slaves. "Come," ordered Janet. Tina conducted Cheryl into the library. Janet noted that Tina was wearing a simple blouse and skirt, and a pair of modest heels. She was carrying a command handbag this time, not the expensive one that she had earlier. "Thank you, Tina. We can be alone now," ordered Janet. "Yes, Mistress." Cheryl stood, waiting for Janet's next command. She did not look directly at Janet, and remained silent. "You may be seated, Cheryl." "Thank you, Mistress." "Are you prepared to serve me?" asked Janet. "Yes, Mistress." Janet sat back in her chair, and breathed deeply. On Cheryl's first visit, Janet had spanked her. On this visit Janet would introduce Cheryl to what it fully meant to be a slave. "Then nothing further needs to be said. I agree to your conditions, with the promise of your silence." "Then you'll do as I ask, Mistress?" "Yes, Cheryl. I'll train you, loan you to a Domme, and we'll see what price you that you want from me. But that's a long way in the future. We'll see if you can make that journey." "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl. "I'm now going to call Tina back. You will get on your knees, and I will ask you for your submission. You will agree. Then Tina will take you to a bedroom where you will strip and be outfitted in collar, bracelets and heels. Which will be your only clothes until Sunday. Do you understand?" "Yes, Mistress Janet." Janet pressed a button on her desk, and Tina appeared at the door a few seconds later. "Enter," ordered Janet. "Cheryl," Janet commanded, "kneel." "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl, as she knelt before Janet. "Do you, Cheryl Branford, submit yourself to me, Mistress Janet Davis, of your own free will, and without coercion?" "Yes, Mistress." "That you will accept whatever discipline or bondage that I place upon you, or from others who I may give you to?" "Yes, Mistress." "That you will faithfully obey the orders of your Mistress?" "Yes, Mistress." "And that you will no longer have the freedom of your own body, which shall belong to me, totally." "Yes, Mistress Janet." "And that you shall be forever silent about what occurs to you here." "Yes, Mistress." "Choose your safeword." "Sin, Mistress," Cheryl answered. "Tina, take her to the bedroom, and get her ready. She knows what to expect for this evening. I'll see you in the Dungeon in thirty minutes. If she resists in any way, you have my permission to use the crop on her," ordered Janet. "Yes, Mistress Janet," answered Tina as she led her charge away. 'So now it begins,' Janet thought to herself. * * * * * Janet had decided not to change out of her leather dress. It was comfortable, reasonable cool (since it did not enclose her like a Catsuit) and allowed her freedom of motion. She did, however, select a pair of long matching leather kidskin gloves to go with the dress. Janet removed them from a desk drawer, and carefully drew them up to her elbows. The soft leather fit her easily, and Janet admired herself in the mirror. Leaving the library, Janet walked down the open stairs down to the Dungeon. She could have taken the elevator, but Janet enjoyed hearing the sound that her heels made as she descended. Erica had both stairs and elevator installed to reach her Dungeon complex, and no doubt the stairs was a backup in case the power failed. Which they did! One Saturday night, during an intense scene, the power suddenly went out, plunging the Dungeon into complete darkness. While she had been busy downstairs, an ice storm had knocked out power for all of southern Connecticut. She had wasted no time after the storm had cleared to install emergency lighting and a backup power supply for the Mansion. That was her second modification to her inheritance, the first had been a sauna installed upstairs. Janet would frequently invite either Stephanie or Blanca over for a little steam session. Trouble was, keeping enough birch branches that they would use to beat each other with.... Janet's heels clicked on the stairs as she descended, then she reached the door and opened it. She walked into the first Dungeon, and found Cheryl hanging by her wrists from a ceiling chain, a red ballgag in her mouth, and a blindfold around her eyes. She was naked, wearing only a collar, bracelets on her wrists and ankles, and a pair of heels locked to her feet. A spreader bar kept her legs open and her sex available. She was hanging so that her shod feet could just barely touch the floor. Her breasts jutted out, and Janet could see all of her ribs through her skin. Janet nodded in silence at Tina, who was standing silently nearby. No slave should ever be left alone while bound, thought Janet especially when gagged. It had only been much later when Erica had told Janet that all the times she had been bound that either Andrea or Erica herself had been nearby, in case something happened. Even that final time, when Janet had been cruelly bound with a butt plug and dildo, and seemingly left alone, Andrea had been in reality quite close to her. Janet reached out and released Cheryl's blindfold, and when Cheryl could see again, she blinked in the sudden light. "Have you ever been in a Dungeon before?" Janet asked. Cheryl shook her head no. "Do you know what will happen here?" Cheryl shook her head yes. "Good. It is here that you will be used, here that you will become a slave. Both to your own body's desire's, and then to me," explained Janet. Janet took Cheryl's right nipple, which was already erect, and pinched it gently, then with slowly increasing pressure. Soon, Cheryl squealed from behind her gag. "Being gagged removes the last vestige of your free will, doesn't it? I can use any part of you that I want." Janet probing hand went between Cheryl's legs, to her sex. Just as she had done days earlier, she roughly probed Cheryl's love triangle. "Mmmmph!" cried Cheryl, as her most private parts were invaded. "Wet already," Janet observed, "you're so easy, Cheryl," as Janet removed her fingers from Cheryl's sex. Janet walked over to the cabinet, and wiped her glove on a paper towel. She then removed a riding crop from the wall, and soon stood again in front of Cheryl. "Tonight, I shall use the crop. Afterwards, I shall use you in bed. Do you understand?" Cheryl nodded. Janet unbuckled Cheryl's ballgag, handing it to Tina. She then flexed the riding crop in her gloved hands. "You will now count each stroke," Janet began, "and after every five strokes, thank me for the discipline that you are receiving. Do you understand?" "Yes, Mistress," replied Cheryl, who swallowed nervously, concern evident on her face. "I shall use you gradually at first, to gauge how you can take being used. I shall not break your skin, or make you bleed. Ever. I am not that kind of Mistress," coldly lectured Janet, "but I will leave marks and welts on your skin that will take time to heal." "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl. "Then thank me for what you are about to receive," ordered Janet. "Thank you, Mistress." Janet's first stroke was a mild one that landed on Cheryl's right thigh, which didn't even leave a mark behind. "One." The second landed on Cheryl's right breast, making her shake within her chains. "Two." The third was placed on Cheryl's bottom, making her squeal. "Three." "Four." "Five, Thank you, Mistress!" cried Cheryl. The sixth landed on Cheryl's right underarm. "Six." Eight." "Ten! Thank you, Mistress!" Janet paused to give Cheryl a chance to recover, to catch her breath. Each stroke had been delivered with more force than the last, and Cheryl's virgin body was now striped for the first time. "Eleven." "Twelve." The thirteenth stroke was delivered between Cheryl's legs, right onto her exposed sex. Cheryl flinched within her chains, and a moan escaped her lips. "Thirteen!" "Fifteen, Thank you, Mistress." Janet then concentrated her strokes on Cheryl's Venus mound, and between her legs. She wanted her new slave to cry in her submission. "Sixteen!" "Eighteen!" "Twenty! Thank you, Mistress." Janet ceased, and ran her gloved fingers down Cheryl's taut, sweating body. She traced the fine red lines that the crop had left behind, and Cheryl flinched when Janet touched some of the more sensitive welts. "Kiss the crop," ordered Janet. Cheryl did as she was told, and then Janet waited in front of her. "Thank you, Mistress Janet," Cheryl stuttered. "Very good, Cheryl. You have taken my crop rather well. Now for your pussy." Janet again felt between Cheryl's legs, and her gloved fingers were coated with Cheryl's juices. Janet removed her fingers, then displayed them to her bound captive. "Taste yourself," Janet ordered, "slave." Janet stuck her fingers inside Cheryl's mouth, and Cheryl licked away her own juices from the soft leather. "Once you have been trained," said Janet, "the mere sight of the crop will make you wet between your thighs." "Yes, Mistress," "Tina, unchain Cheryl and get her cleaned up. Chain her at the foot of my bed. I shall want her ready in a half-hour. And make sure that you leave a riding crop and dildo on my dresser," ordered Janet. "Yes, Mistress," answered Tina. On her way out, Janet handed the crop to Tina, and walked calmly to the library. Cheryl's first session had gone well, and now...... There were some reports that Stephanie had wanted her to read, and Janet had used them to pass the time. Tina would have taken Cheryl to the bathroom, given her charge a quick sponge bath to freshen her up, and then her newest slave would be waiting for her in Janet's bedroom. Janet got engrossed in reading, and did not notice that she had taken longer than the half-hour that she had originally ordered. When she entered her bedroom, she found Cheryl there alone. Her collar was locked to a chain from the foot of Janet's bed, her hands bound behind her back. On the dresser was a riding crop, a dildo, and red ballgag. Plus a single red rose, which had made Janet smile. A gift from Tina, for which Janet would have to find some way to reward her later. "Good evening, Cheryl. Did you enjoy your first session under the crop?" asked Janet. "Yes, Mistress," Cheryl quickly answered. "You will learn that there is both pain," Janet began as she unzipped her leather dress, "and pleasure in being a slave." Janet removed her dress, under which she was wearing a matching black lace bra, panties and garter belt, which held up her stockings. She removed her shoes, then opened the garters holding up her stockings, which Janet slowly removed. Janet then removed her garter belt, and panties. She was soon standing nude in front of her bound slave. "That's better," said Janet, "I'm going to go into the bathroom to freshen up. When I return, your education is going to be continued." Janet washed herself off in the bathroom with a terry washcloth. Leather was wonderful and sexy to wear, fit her like a glove, but didn't breath. So after wearing any of her Domme gear, Leather, Latex, PVC, or Rubber, the first thing she wanted was a bath. Whenever she did a session, she always slept nude that night, to let her skin breath. Re-entering the bedroom, she found the key to Cheryl's collar on the dresser, and unlocked the short chain. She then pulled Cheryl up from the floor, and locked her to a longer chain set into a ringbolt in the wall above Janet's bed. "There now, better?" asked Janet. "Yes, Mistress," answered Cheryl. "You look very nice, Cheryl. My stripes have improved your appearance. Have you ever been to bed with a woman before?" Janet demanded. "What?" stammered Cheryl. "Have you ever made love to a woman?" "No, no, Mistress." "There's always a first time. Now since you're a virgin in that regard, I'm not going to blame you for your ignorance. I didn't make love to a girl until I became a slave to Mistress Erica." "Mistress?" "I want you to lay back on the bed, and I'll do everything," Janet ordered. "I'm cuffed, Mistress," Cheryl answered. Janet took a pillow from the top of the bed, and placed it midway down. She patted it for effect. "Put your behind on the pillow, so you don't lay directly on the cuffs. I'm not a cruel Mistress unless I'm forced to be. Go on," Janet ordered. Cheryl did as Janet instructed, and put her behind on the pillow, elevating her behind and sex for Janet's use. "Open your legs, slave," Janet demanded. Cheryl blushed red when she opened her legs, and Janet began instead by kissing her on her mouth. Their lips met passionately, and Janet wondered what type of lipstick that Cheryl used. Then Janet began to suck and bite Cheryl's erect nipples, which she knew would make Cheryl hot with desire. "I'm going to have Tina teach you how to rouge your aureole to a deep red, and properly perfume yourself," said Janet, "but that will come later." Janet planted a series of moist kisses as her lips traveled downwards from Cheryl's breasts to her opened sex. She enfolded Cheryl's moist love box with her lips, and her tongue darted inside Cheryl's outer lips to the joys within. "Ohhhh!" moaned Cheryl, shaking as she was excited by Janet's attentions, "Ohhhh!" Janet continued to pleasure Cheryl, and she knew that her slave's inhibitions were melting away as Janet brought her ever closer to climax. Cheryl was wet between her legs, and Janet felt every time that Cheryl shuddered in response to Janet's stimulation of her. Continuing, Janet wanted to draw out Cheryl as long as she could in order to make the orgasm stronger and more intense. When Janet finally began to lick Cheryl's erect clit, she knew that release would not be far behind. Deciding that she had kept Cheryl wanting long enough, she sucked and tongued her new slave to a series of orgasms that made her moan and bounce on the bed. "Ohhhh!" cried Cheryl, "Ohhh!" Janet noted that tears were falling from the corners of Cheryl's eyes, and that she lay there, panting with exhaustion. Janet wondered if Cheryl had ever had an orgasm before like that in her life. "You see," said Janet, sitting up, "there is both pain and pleasure in this house. Provided that you are trained and obey. Sit up!" "Yes, Mistress," said Cheryl. Janet got the key from the dresser and unlocked the cuffs on Cheryl's wrists. Cheryl then began to rub them to restore the circulation. "Thank you, Mistress," panted Cheryl. "You're welcome, slave." For a brief moment, Janet recalled the first time that she had been approached sexually by another woman. It happened when she was working part-time in school, when she had the job in Macy's. But nothing had come of it, leaving her frustrated and curious. Did she desire a man or a woman? Janet remembered that she had never made love before to a woman until she had been chained in the cell with Tiffany. How Erica had made her wait weeks before she had been allowed to service her. Janet had desired to make love to Mistress Erica! But Erica had waited (it took Janet time to figure this out) until she had been trained in lovemaking by Tiffany and Andrea before she would let Janet service her. Now that she was Mistress, Janet would either teach a new slave herself in the arts of love, or have Tina do it, or a combination of the two. Janet now lay back on the bed, and arranged herself until she felt comfortable. "Make love to me, Cheryl," Janet ordered, "and taste yourself on my lips." Janet had expected Cheryl to hesitate, or pause. Instead, she quickly lay beside Janet and began to kiss her new lover with passion and feeling. Cheryl's tongue cleaned her juices from Janet's lips, just as they had done from Janet's leather gloves. Following what had gone before, Cheryl now sucked on Janet's nipples. However, Cheryl was a disappointment when it came to servicing Janet. She tried, but seemed to hesitate and appeared scared when confronted by Janet's wet sex. "Something wrong?" asked Janet, "slave?" "I'm sorry, Mistress, I just can't make love to another woman," cried Cheryl. Janet had thoughtfully placed the crop on the night table for just that reason. "Did you enjoy the orgasm that I gave you?" asked Janet. "Yes, Mistress." "Well, a girl taught me how to do that. And you'll learn that also." Janet struck Cheryl twice on her back, two light strokes just meant to sting. "Owww!" "Now I'll hit you a lot harder next time if you don't satisfy me," said Janet, "so try again." Obediently, Cheryl lowered her head between Janet's thighs to start once more. Janet felt Cheryl's tongue on her labia and clit, and was being aroused in an unfeeling way. "Satisfy me," said Janet as she struck Cheryl on her back once more with the crop. 'It's going to be a long night,' Janet thought to herself as she opened her legs to accommodate Cheryl. * * * * * Saturday June 13, 1998 Janet awoke on Saturday to the sounds of birds singing through the open window. She had been instructing Cheryl deep into the night, before they had both fallen asleep. Now the bed was a mess, damp with their sweat and juices. She stood up from the bed, wanting not to awaken Cheryl. Nude, her body felt sticky, and Janet desired a hot bath or shower. Janet stretched, admiring her figure in the mirror. 'Not bad for a girl from Queens,' Janet thought to herself. "Mistress?" asked Cheryl. "Did I awaken you?" asked Janet. "No, Mistress Janet." "Good. Tina will be along shortly to release and give you a bath. After breakfast, which you and Tina will serve me in the dining room, I want to s