Chapter 6

The girl woke up alone and it was an hour to noon. She found a t-shirt in the cupboard and went looking for her clothes. Not a trace of them. The man was gone, too.

The maid was preparing sandwiches in the kitchen, red-eyed. I can't find my clothes, said the girl. They are in the washer, madam, the maid replied. I will have them ironed by two o'clock. The dress is at the cleaners and your sandals and some other things are in the hall closet, in the bag you brought. Oh, said the girl. You got coffee? I will make some, anything to go with it? An aspirin, if you have one.

The girl went back to the bedroom for a shower. She dried her hair in front of the mirror. Shit! She stared at her reflection, she had completely forgotten the shave. How do I explain that, she said to herself. I look like a slut.

Her ass was crisscrossed with stripes from the cane and small crusts from the birching. Still red. Streaks even on the back of her legs. Ouch. No mini as long as they were visible. Her breasts looked normal, but were taut and sensitive to touch.

She went back to the kitchen. Where are all people? At work, the maid said. Your coffe is ready. The girl had coffee, an aspirin and a sandwich and went back to bed.

Time. The woman was at the foot of the bed, one hand on each of her knees. You're about to serve us in half an hour. They are very expectant. The girl was far away but drowsily tried to get up. I forgot... The woman held her down. Oh no, little girls showing off their cunts must expect a penalty. The girl soon succumbed to the prying tongue. She parted her legs.

The outfit, madam. It was the maid. Wait a moment, I have to get this cunt flowing.

The maid stood by, quietly watching the girl. Not like this! the girl begged. It's so humiliating. Hold her, the woman commanded. The maid was strong, she pressed the girl down and tied her arms down. It is, the maid said.

The girl couldn't resist, soon she was moaning in spite of her tears. She pressed her thighs around the woman's head, and then arched. The tongue kept working on her until she fell back, spent. Now, let's dress her up, the woman said.

A shower, the girl pleaded. No time for that, our guests can stand a smelly cunt. The woman tornedto the maid: Now for the top.

The top was difficult to get on, it was extremely tight. It had to come on right, if the breasts should fit with the holes and get the proper support. The nipples should point straight out. Fine, the woman said: op. The garter was in the same material, black and glossy. Why, you're dressing me up in latex, the girl exclaimed. Right you are, the woman said, in fact the stockings are latex too.

The maid put up the girl's hair in an ad hoc fashion and pinned a maid's cap. This hair at the neck can't be fixed, the maid said. Cut it off, we want a long, slender bare neck. The maid used the scissors, locks fell on the floor. A bit trashy, perhaps, but that helps, said the woman. Shoes? The girl sat paralysed. The maid put on a couple of spike-heeled shoes, like the ones the woman had worn the night before. The collar? The apron? A small white laced apron was knit around her waist.

Stand up. The girl got up and took some awkward steps forward. Try walking, the woman said. Get used to them. The girl's white breasts bounced.

It's three o'clock, madam, the maid pointed out. The ladies are waiting. They can wait. I'm thinking. Did you bring the clamps? Only the small ones with weights. Good.

The clamps were applied on the nipples, both with a little feathered weight hanging down. The girl whined. Take her to the mirror.

Now she realized what was happening. She turned pale. Don't do this to me. Why not? the woman said. The ladies will love you. Let me at least have a skirt., I look like a whore. Get your act together, the woman snapped. Those ladies have seen it all, it's not exactly the Christian Charity Board.

The woman put two fingers up her cunt. This is exactly what you want and you know it, she said, slowly working her fingers in and out. They made a slurping sound. It might be the last thing you do for me, but please do it right. Head high.

The girl sniffled and nodded. I'm so ashamed. That's the idea, the woman said.

The maid wiped off her face with a towel and applied some lipstick and some rouge. I don't think we have time for the eyes, the maid said. Her eyes are fine as they are, the woman quipped. Now, girl, are you ready? Remember, it's all a show. Don't question anything and don't - whatever you do - talk back. The leash!

The woman arrived with the the girl two steps behind. The ladies assembled were stunned, astonished, and then came the cheers. A wonderful creature! She's the cutest little thing! The girl blushed and cast down her eyes.

The woman asked for silence. Thanks, sorry I am late. I just had to have her, you know. Not that she needed it, she wets at a glance. But this girl is special, she has extraordinary qualities. Turn, girl. Wow, went the ladies. What a session!

She turned to the girl, a hand under her chin. Tell us now, did you get off on the whip. The girl's big eyes met the woman's. Yes, she whispered. Louder. Nobody can hear you. The girl cleared her throat. Yes. Twice? Yes. Three times? Yes. Tears welled up.

I can't wait to lay my hands on that little cunt, hissed a middleaged redhead in a mini. It takes some skill, objected a burly woman in a three-piece suit. Give some credit to our hostess. Might be rather fragile, muttered the youngest of them, a slender, aristocratic blonde.

The woman, the hostess, raised her voice: I'll tell you something. Yesterday morning this girl was an ordinary housewife with no previous experience.

That statement really unsettled the ladies. No shit, said the burly woman. May I? said the blonde. Of course. She walked up to the girl and faced her. Are you married? Yes, the girl said. Two days ago, you had never had sex with a woman? Yes. What? the blonde said. You do have previous experience? No, oh no. Allright. You had never been whipped before? Yes. You had been whipped. Yes. When? Once, five days ago. By whom? A man. Your husband? No. A lover? Yes. A man? Yes.

The blonde turned to the hostess. Not quite, but fairly correct. I'm impressed. Allow me to put one last question to her. By all means, do. The blonde looked the girl in her eyes: Do you love this woman? And I don't want to know if you like her, I suppose you do. Do you love her?