Chapter 8: Slave-Sister

"I just can't believe he cheated on me," Cheryl sighed. "I mean, we just got married, you know?"

I nodded sympathetically. We'd spent much of the afternoon talking about BDSM, or I'd talked, I should say. Cheryl had asked a lot of questions and I'd done my best to answer them. But her mind kept wandering back to James and his infidelity. It was going to take some time before she could forgive him

We were sitting at a small round table in a hotel bar after our lunch, the same hotel my mother and I had visited ironically enough. Cheryl and I both drank tonics with lime, non-alcoholic, and we were both conscious of being admired by the locals. The businessmen and lawyers who'd either taken an extra long lunch or just had to get out of the office early. It was only about three thirty and I was getting impatient.

Katrina wasn't even on the plane yet and I was looking at my watch every ten minutes it seemed, until I finally took it off and put it in my purse. My legendary patience didn't extend to waiting on airplanes a thousand miles away. Not when Katrina was going to be on it.

"He was testing you," I told her, returning to the subject of my brother like Cheryl wanted. "He wanted to get caught."

"That's ... Why would he want to do that?" Cheryl leaned forward slightly. "It hurts."

"He needs to be punished, he wants that from you," I shrugged. "There's a million books out there, trying to figure it out. I don't have the answer and I doubt if Jim even knows."

"It felt good though," Cheryl said seriously, sipping her drink and watching my face for a reaction.

"It was spouse abuse," I told her matter of factly.

"Why do you say that?" Cheryl frowned, like I was ruining it for her.

"Because you didn't care about him. His safety wasn't important to you, his pleasure..."

"His pleasure?" Cheryl rolled her eyes.

"When we punish our slaves, it has to be out of love, not anger," I told her.

"But you let me do it," Cheryl pointed out. "You wanted me to do it."

"Only because I was right there with you," I said, but I was regretting it even so and I wished there had been a better way. It wasn't good giving Cheryl her first taste the way I had. It had set a bad example.

"You have to let the past go, whatever happened before today doesn't matter," I continued. "The what and the why, you're different people now. This is your fresh start and ... What?"

Cheryl was looking at me, her eyes intent on mine and she had that smile, the secret one playing on her lips.

"You're so different," she said and I became aware of her fingers touching mine. "Doesn't anything bother you?"

"All sorts of things," I smiled back. "But if I can't change the past, I fix the future."

"Fix the future," she giggled lightly and she was flirting with me. "I like that."

She bit her bottom lip, giving me the full treatment. And really, Cheryl had been playing this on and off all afternoon. I'd sensed her infatuation earlier, or if it wasn't that it was something close to it. I didn't mind it, since it was making our conversation easier, but I hoped she didn't think she was falling in love with me. Stranger things had happened in my life.

I thought it was more than likely that it was just a bit of whiplash after her husband's revelations about his adultery. Cheryl would want to test her love for Jim and the easiest way to do that would be to allow herself to fall in love with someone else and compare, in a manner of speaking. I doubt she was reasoning out her emotions beyond the moment and that was something Cheryl needed to learn how to do.

"Excuse me, the two gentlemen ... there..." the waitress nodded towards a couple young lawyers at the bar, " ... would like to buy you drinks."

"What? Oh no, we couldn't..." Cheryl seemed surprise, but she wasn't even old enough to have a real drink.

"Lovely, we'll have two more of these," I cut my sister-in-law off and smiled at the men.

"What are you doing?" Cheryl whispered, like it was a secret. "We ... I can't do this."

"Do what?" I grinned at her. "It's just drinks, these guys belong to us."

"Belong to us?" Cheryl laughed.

"Or maybe they don't," I was smiling because the waitress was coming back and so those two guys wouldn't be far behind.

"But ... I'm married," Cheryl rolled her eyes.

"You're a woman, enjoy it." I looked up at the waitress then. "Thanks."

"Shoot, they're coming," Cheryl put a hand over her eyes, hiding herself away.

"Stop acting like a virgin," I giggled at her. "And keep that left hand out, make sure they know you're married."

"Oh God," Cheryl was turning red and it suddenly occurred to me that she was a Switch, a natural too, and that was interesting.

She'd Top for her husband, play the Domme with him, but would she sub for me? Cheryl wouldn't be the first Switch I'd come across. They weren't all that uncommon, but usually they were never comfortable enough, or perhaps obsessed enough, with one role or the other to accept a long term relationship. Switch's were like nomads, some of them, wandering from scene to scene, playing the game more with a fascination for the other people, rather than any specific form of punishment or bondage.

Others simply had a fetish for one particular aspect, such as a submissive woman who switched for CBT. I knew a woman like that, living happily as a submissive with her Dom husband, but occasionally she'd Top for other men, submissive men who desired cock and ball torture. It was the only time she switched roles and the woman was very good at it.

Cheryl would be like that, perhaps, being the Mistress her husband needed, but the rest of the time being submissive. She'd want a Dom of her own, in that case, someone who understood and wouldn't interfere with her marriage, with her relationship with Jim. That would be a difficult proposition, but not an impossible one. Lord knows there are a lot of Tops out there and the good ones, the responsible ones were capable of appreciating such an arrangement.

I knew I would be.

The problem I was facing however, the reason I was hoping that Cheryl was a true Dominant, was simply the fact that I didn't live in that city. I lived in Las Vegas and it wasn't as if I could find a Mistress or Master to baby-sit my family, as it were. My parents had very specific fantasies and needs. How convenient it would be if Cheryl could be the Dominant personality my family needed. She was their daughter-in-law, and she seemed to understand, or at least accept the incestuous desires Jim and I had for each other. Both my mother and father adored her, and I'd already uncovered the truth that my father found the woman more than a little attractive.

Cheryl would be perfect if she was willing and able to accept the role.

"Hi," one of the men said, and he was handsome enough in his two piece suit, tall and dark, with a nice smile. He was the older, thirty years old easily, and full of confidence.

"Hi, thank you for the drinks," I smiled up at him, and the two men took that as an invitation to sit down, opposite each other and between Cheryl and me.

"Hi, my name's Darren," the other man said, looking at Cheryl and offering her his hand. He was shorter than his friend, with sandy hair and small wire-rim glasses. He looked smart and he was cute, somewhere in his late twenties probably.

They'd apparently divided us up already.

"I'm Carl and I don't think I've seen you here before," my guy smiled as I took his hand. "I'd remember."

"I'm Susan," I dipped my head slightly, like I was trying to follow his eyes as they went for my tits. But only quickly and then he was back. "I'm not from around here." I felt his thumb rub the back of my hand, just for a second before he let it go. "Just visiting."

"Really? It sounds like you need a tour guide," he sipped his drink. "I know some great clubs."

Across from me Cheryl was talking with Darren, but only reluctantly and she was glancing at me, obviously feeling uncomfortable at being picked-up in a downtown bar. I got the impression that she didn't have a whole lot of experience with such situations, and why would she, being just 20 years old and married.

"I'm not sure we'd like the same clubs, Carl," I gave him a teasing laugh.

"Oh? I don't know, I'm pretty open-minded," he was sitting close, being very friendly as his brown eyes looked into mine. "What are you into?"

"Mmmm..." I played with him. "I don't want to scare you."

"Scare me?" Carl laughed and used it as an excuse to put his hand on the back of my chair, extending his arm and I could feel his thumb brushing across my silk blazer. He was a fast one.

"I like bondage games. You know, spankings and handcuffs..." I arched my eyebrows, " ... things like that."

"Do you need a spanking?" he whispered seductively and I laughed at him.

"Noooo..." I pursed my lips. "I like it on top."

"Ah," he nodded and he was so vanilla he probably had a cherry in his pocket.

I glanced over at Cheryl, and Darren was holding her left hand, palm up and tracing his finger across her skin like he was a fortune teller. It made me wonder a little what was going on, but the woman had relaxed a bit, maybe she'd finally figured out that we could do whatever we wanted with these guys. They had no power over us; none but what we gave them, and giving control to someone else was never my thing.

"So the real question is ... Do you need a spanking, Carl?" I turned back to him, staring into the man's eyes.

"That could be fun," he gave me a tiny shrug.

"Get on your knees and beg me," I told him.

"Excuse me?" Carl smiled slowly, thinking perhaps he'd misunderstood my words.

"If you want a spanking, get on the floor and kiss my feet," I said patiently, and loud enough so that Cheryl and her new friend stopped their little game and stared at me.

"I don't think..." Carl was looking around nervously, his face darkening slightly.

"Too bad," I sighed. "Thanks for the drinks though."

"Ahhhh ... Heh..." he stared at me and I gave him a look as if to ask him why he was still there.

"Come on, Carl..." Darren at least got the hint and he was standing up.

"You're kind of a bitch, huh?" Carl was frowning at me.

"It's just a kiss, Carl," I chuckled and then I looked at Cheryl, who was obviously a little embarrassed by the scene being played out for her benefit.

"Cheryl, get on the floor and kiss my foot." I had a flash of brilliance.

That was a risk calculated in an instant and it would either make Cheryl very unhappy, which I was prepared for and in part hoping for, as it would boost her ego a little; reinforce her self-image as a dominant personality. I could just laugh it off if she refused, explain it as part of the game I was playing with Carl, and apologize later. Cheryl would be more confused than angry and it would be forgivable. She'd still love me.

Or else Cheryl would...

"Yes, Mistress Susan," she whispered and I almost had an orgasm just sitting there as I hadn't truly believed she'd do it.

Cheryl slipped gracefully from her chair, taking two short steps on her bare knees. She was holding her skirt up with her fingers and I turned for her, presenting the girl with my right foot. She was flushed pink and shivering and so pretty down there, bending her lips to kiss that cool black leather. I held my breath, perhaps all of us did, and I wished that moment could have lasted much longer than it did.

"Fucking dykes," Carl was up then, walking away unhappily with his friend.

Cheryl moved back to her seat and the bar wasn't very crowded, but we certainly had the undivided attention of the dozen or so customers that were there. I didn't care, I'd just received a serious adrenaline rush and I was above those people anyway. They meant nothing to me except as props for our scene, useful tools that made Cheryl's humiliation and submission all the more complete.

I wondered if anyone in that bar knew us, her or I, or if that possibility had even occurred to Cheryl. It was unlikely since I'd been gone for six years and Cheryl was from someplace else entirely. But still, I needed to be mindful of my brother and parents, and I did want to explore my new slave in detail. If this was Vegas I'd have done it right there, played a little public scene for my own amusement, but as it was, we were not. We were in a hotel, so we did what people do in hotels.

"Undress for me," I told Cheryl as soon as we were in our room.

I'd asked for the same one my mother and I had shared so recently, but it was occupied, unfortunately. The woman at the counter remembered me though, and her look hadn't been entirely flattering. I hoped she hadn't mistaken me for a lesbian escort. That would have been only slightly amusing.

"Yes, Mistress," Cheryl was into it, completely, as if I'd thrown a switch suddenly in that little bar downstairs.

"Tell me why you want to be my slave," I commanded her, sitting down on the bed and happy to watch her.

"Mistress, I..." She licked her lips, unbuttoning her blouse with trembling fingers.

"Look at me," I reminded her and she rewarded me with her beautiful hazel eyes beneath her auburn hair.

"I'm ... I don't know," she was breathing hard. "You're so strong, so ... confident and beautiful, Mistress."

"And how does that make you feel, slave?" I asked, nodding my head slightly as I watched her remove her blouse, showing me her soft pale stomach and pretty breasts hidden beneath a white lace bra.

"Small ... Safe," she replied softly. "Mistress ... I want to please you. I want to love you the way..." she cleared her throat and spoke up, " ... the way Jim does."

"Are you jealous of him?"

I smiled at her and my heart was thumping in my chest when I gazed upon Cheryl's firm breasts for the first time. They were smallish, just nice handfuls, I thought, and topped with sweet strawberry nipples, potent and hard. Her whole body was delicious that way, ripe and athletic and offered to me without reluctance. Jim was a fool for cheating on this woman.

"Yes, Mistress," she nodded, unbuttoning her skirt at the side. "That kiss..."

"Will you be jealous when he fucks me?" I spread my legs for her, exposing the black crotch of my thong.

"Oh yes, Mistress."

"Will you punish him for it?" my breath was hot in my lungs and I rubbed the insides of my thighs.

"I'll punish him, yes Mistress," she nodded and stepped out of her skirt slowly.

"You'll be his Mistress?" I tilted my head. "And I'll be yours, is that what you really want?"

"It's what I want, Mistress." Cheryl hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and pulled them down without modesty.

"Get down here, on your knees and remove my shoes," I pointed between my spread legs. "I'll call you Slave-Sister from now and you'll address me as Mistress-Sister, just as your husband does."

"Mistress-Sister, thank you," she nodded quickly, moving to take her place on the soft carpet before me.