Date: Sat, 18 Oct 2014 15:04:42 -0400
From: lisaandjudy@googlemail.com
Subject: Mistaken Identity

Mistaken Identity (F/F, D/s, BD, Spanking, Humiliation, Enema, Toys,
Slavery) by Miss Lisa Jones _lisaandjudy@googlemail.com_
(mailto:lisaandjudy@googlemail.com)  2012
============================================================================
Synopsis: Executive Fantasies offers the ultimate sexual experiences - to
those who can afford it. When one of their clients orders the Kidnapped and
Sold At Auction package what could possibly go wrong. As ever, my gratitude
goes out to Estragon for his work as my editor and OneWhoAdores who wouldn't
let me get away with second best.
============================================================================
Mistaken Identity Chapter 1
============================================================================
"And if you could just sign here, here, here and...here," Sarah Bolton,
owner and Managing Director of Executive Fantasies, handed the form to
Jennifer Harris, her latest client, pointing to the crosses which indicated the
places where her signature was required. She also passed across her Mont Blanc
fountain pen; nothing but the best from Executive Fantasies.
Jennifer skimmed through the pages, confirming that the contract was
exactly the same as the one she had had thoroughly checked out earlier. She hadn't
made her way to the top without carefully reading the small print; and this
contract, albeit a very private one, was not going to escape her usual
scrutiny. Flicking through the pages, she thought about how she had ended up
here, purchasing, at great expense, this weekend of escape.
In the decade or so since she had left collage she had been successful,
successful beyond her, and everyone else's, expectations. She'd spotted a gap
in the market and, with ruthless efficiency, had built up her business until
her turnover was measured in eight figures. However, this success had come
at a cost, a very personal cost, and amongst all the business, she never had
time for relationships. Sure, she'd had one or two flings along the way,
but she'd never had time to let any of them get close, close enough to divulge
her real desires.
And it was these real desires that she was going to indulge now. Probably
it was because she was such a control freak, because she insisted that, in
every part of her business life, she was the one in control, that her
fantasies were just the opposite. During the working day she was constantly in
demand by those looking for her to take charge, to make the decisions, to lead
the pack. As a stark contrast, in her rare moments of relaxation, she had come
to dream of having someone else take control and make the decisions; she
would be the led, not the leader. She would weave complex stories where she
was subject to every whim and caprice of some dominant figure at whose feet
she would grovel. As the years rolled by these fantasies had become more
intense, more involved and her desire to act them out had become stronger and
stronger. Naturally this was not a thing she could share easily. She had quite
a high public profile and was hardly going to endanger her position by being
indiscreet with any of her rare one-night stands.
And then Julie, a friend she'd met at a marketing conference, had, after
one or two too many cocktails together, told her about `Executive Fantasies'
or `ExF' as they preferred to be known. Julie had explained that ExF was an
organization for people who wanted, and could afford, an outlet to explore
the extremes of their sexuality, to travel far outside  the conventional
norm, and to do so without risking shame or exposure. Julie hadn't asked too
closely about Jennifer's kinks anymore than Jennifer had asked about Julie's,
but there was an understanding that here was an organization that was
discreet, professional, and, above all, understanding. The very next day Jennifer
was on the phone to them.
It had taken a while before she had cleared the vetting procedure. ExF were
very fussy about their clients and were judicious about who they would deal
with. Without a personal recommendation she wouldn't have got past the
front door and, even then, she was thoroughly checked out to make sure she was
who she said she was. Jennifer was reassured by this; after all they weren't
the only ones to have made unobtrusive enquiries.
Once the vetting process was over, she was invited to come in for an
interview. This was when Jennifer had first met Sarah, who insisted on negotiating
with new clients in person. For Sarah it was a chance to meet the client
before the last few veils of secrecy were lifted. As for the clients, well,
she knew how hard it could be for some to talk about exactly what they wanted
and they appreciated the personal touch. Before the meeting Jennifer had
been given a questionnaire, a list of activities, each of which she had to
grade from one to five where one was `never under any circumstances' and five
was `yes please'. The list was detailed and wide-ranging which meant that,
even before they started, Sarah had a pretty good idea about what Jennifer
wanted. This helped to break the ice and enabled Jennifer to be matter-of-fact
as she described in some detail her dream of being kidnapped and then sold
at auction as a sex slave. Sarah even pulled her up at one point, advising
against being too prescriptive and suggesting that her clients often found
the element of surprise helped `spice up' the experience.
Once Sarah had gathered all the details she asked for time to put together
a suitable package. She explained that a scenario as involved as the one
Jennifer had described wouldn't be cheap; the auction alone required quite a
few in the `cast', and each of them would want to be paid. They agreed to
meet a week later, by which time all would be ready.
Now, at the second interview, they went through the contract, dotting the `i
's and crossing the `t's. Jennifer had had time to check out all details,
scrutinizing all the get-outs and non-liability clauses. She had been
impressed by the thorough and businesslike way it had been put together and,
although she had blanched a bit when she saw the grand total, she understood that
quality comes at a price.
"And here's your new identity," Sarah said as she passed over a purse
which had a full set of credit cards, store cards and driving license, all in
the name of Susan Brown. Jennifer flicked through them. They looked very
convincing, although she wouldn't dream of actually using any of them. Sarah had
explained that, while there had to be some who were aware of her true
identity, it was safest all round if this was kept to the minimum possible and, to
ensure that even the cast were unaware of her true identity, the actual
abduction would be done under a fake name.
"It's just in case, heaven forbid, one of the cast were to go rogue,"
Sarah explained. "Both parties need to reduce the risk of exposure to a minimum.
Of course, when our cast are recruited they're heavily vetted but you can
never be one hundred percent sure and, this way, were one of them to go to
the press, you would be just another anonymous woman. Were anyone to try to
trace you by using these they would hit a dead end, a false name at a false
address. Funnily enough, some of our customers actually find it helpful. They
find that becoming their fake identity enhances the fantasy of it all.
"OK. Just one final recap," Sarah said as she wound up the interview. "
You, or rather, Susan Brown, are to be on the corner of the High St and Station
Road at six thirty on Friday. You'll wear a light colored coat and carry a
copy of the local newspaper tucked under your left arm. Oh, and that Gucci
umbrella of yours," Sarah pointed to the folded umbrella next to Jennifer's
handbag, "carry that as well. Our operatives will `capture' you and `sell
you into slavery' until, forty-eight hours later, on Sunday evening, when you
'll be `freed'. Your safe word is `raspberry' and your go-slow word is `
strawberry'. If you're gagged the equivalent hand signals are...."
Jennifer watched as, once again, Sarah demonstrated the hand signals. They
had been through this a few times already; Sarah had explaining the
difference between a safe word, which would bring all activities to an immediate
halt and the `go-slow' word which meant that she was reaching her limits but
didn't want to stop. Jennifer was already quite excited. Two whole days!
Maybe it was expensive but Sarah's professionalism had convinced her that it
would be money well spent; she would finally get to play out for real what had,
so far, only been flights of her imagination.
Come Friday she was a bundle of nerves and had problems concentrating at
work. Her PA was surprised that, by five thirty, she was clearing her desk and
getting ready to go; Jennifer seldom finished before seven and Fridays were
usually no exception. What surprised her more, however, was that, when
Jennifer left she didn't take her car but set off on foot, wearing a light
colored coat, carrying her Gucci umbrella and a copy of today's local paper.
And that's where it all went wrong. Jennifer was half way across the
pedestrian crossing on Station Rd when a car came round the corner far too fast,
skidded on the damp tarmac, lost control and clipped Jennifer neatly on the
hip, throwing her to the ground. Her head hit a curbstone and she went out
like a light.


Mistaken Identity Chapter 2
============================================================================
Sue Brown looked at the clock on the wall, willing the hands to move. Aged
twenty-eight and working as an insurance clerk in a well-known
multinational, she was looking forward to the weekend. As far as she was concerned,
Friday night was clubbing night. There was a new nightclub playing the latest
sounds and she was looking forward to meeting her mates there. She had even
bought a new dress from Next. With its spaghetti straps and short hem it was,
well, daring but that's just the look she wanted on the dance floor. She had
worked late during the week, saving up her flexi hours so that, come Friday,
she was off home on the dot of three-thirty. Come the magic hour she left
the office, raced back to her flat, grabbed a quick bite to eat, showered and
changed so that, by six o'clock, she was ready to head on out. She was
slightly against the clock. Her friend Andrea had said that, if she were on the
corner of High St and Station Rd by six thirty, prompt, she could get a lift
downtown, which would save on the cost and discomfort of going by bus.
With the time to go fast approaching Sue glanced out of the window. A light
drizzle was falling and it was not really a night to go out wearing such
flimsy clothes. Once she was in Andrea's car she would be fine but bare
shoulders were hardly the thing, waiting on the corner of the High St. She'd have
to cover up. She got out her beige mackintosh and, needing something to
protect her hairdo, she accompanied it with her umbrella. It was a Gucci
knock-off from the market, but she felt it was quite a good one and  you had to
look quite closely to spot the difference.  Now she could stay warm and dry
until she got in the car. Not that she'd go out clubbing in a coat and
umbrella; she would leave them in the car while they hit the dance floor. There was
just one last thing before she left. On her way home she had picked up a
copy of the local paper and Andrea's amateur drama group had got a really good
write-up. She was sure Andrea would want to see the review so, unable to fit
the newspaper into her diminutive handbag, she tucked it under her left arm.
It was already dark by the time she left and the street lighting on the
corner of the High St and Station Rd was none too good. Sue, who had arrived
early, perched on the edge of the curb, making sure Andrea wouldn't miss her.
She was slightly distracted by an accident further up Station Rd; some poor
woman had been run down on the zebra crossing. Walking in London was getting
more and more dangerous. Fortunately the ambulance was there in less than
five minutes and it appeared that the woman wasn't too badly hurt.
She was still watching the woman being put in the ambulance when her view
was blocked by a nondescript white van, which drew up at the curb next to
her. The side door slid open and she saw a figure half hidden in the shadowy
interior of the back of the van.
"Susan Brown?" the figure asked.
"Err... yes but...." She leant towards the van to see what was up. How did
this man know who she was?  As she did so she saw that it was not one but
two figures, crouched inside the body of the van and each was wearing some
sort of Halloween mask. Before she had time to react, they grabbed her and
pulled her inside. The door was slammed shut, one of her captors banged on the
partition and they were off. Fortunately the inside of the van was well
padded as they were quite rough with her, throwing her to the floor, grappling
with her arms and pulling them behind her back. Her coat was pulled from her
shoulders, losing several buttons in the process and, as her arms emerged
from the sleeves, she felt something hard circling her wrists and realised
that she'd been handcuffed.  She was screaming as loud as she could but one of
her assailants clamped his hand over her mouth so her attempts were muffled.
Then she tried to bite him but he was wearing gloves and her joy at making
him withdraw his hand was short lived when a piece of duct tape was slapped
across her mouth. They finished off by putting more tape around her ankles
so that she lay, mute and hog-tied in the centre of the van's padded floor.
Her dress, which was not that long in the first place, had ridden up to
around her waist but she was unable to do anything about it; modesty had gone the
same way as dignity.  Now that she was secured, her captors switched on the
light and sat back, bracing themselves against the rolling of the van as it
made its way through the London streets.
"She's not too much like her photo," one of her captors commented as he
looked at a clipboard.
"Here, pass it over," the other said and he too scrutinized the photo,
presumably attached to the board.
"I dunno," he continued. "It's pretty close. Young, Caucasian, shoulder
length brown hair. It's a bit darker in the picture but these women are
always messing with their hair color. You should have seen my last girlfriend.
Blonde one week, brunette the next. Anyway, I'll do the standard checks."
He found her handbag where it had fallen and rummaged inside, finding her
purse and, within it, her credit cards and driving license, which he checked
thoroughly.
"Hmm... She's Susan Brown, all right. She was waiting at the pick up point
wearing a light colored coat, Gucci umbrella and carrying the local paper
under her left arm. This must be the client. I mean, what are the odds?" He
looked again at the clipboard. "The photo is pretty close. I mean, you ought
to see my passport photo; I'm surprised they let me in to Alicante last
summer."
"But that umbrella's never a Gucci," the other captor protested. "I can
see from here it's a knock off from one of those market stalls."
"Knock off, or real thing, it's got that double G logo on it, that's close
enough for me, OK? You can't expect perfection every time.  Right then,
sweetheart," he turned his attention to Sue, "we've got a long way to go so
you just lie there quietly. We're under strict instructions to deliver you
safely and that's what we're going to do. There's nothing you can do to stop
us so it would be best for all if you just lie back and enjoy the ride. Nod
if you understand."
Sue rolled over and tried to lash out with her legs. However she couldn't
get a purchase and she was simply brushed away. Her captor smiled nastily and
pushed himself forward so that he was lying on top of her, his masked face
just behind her head. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head up off
the floor of the van. His other hand reached down and was grappling between
her thighs, reaching for her tights and panties and pushing them down.
"Listen, cunt, I'm paid to deliver you safely and in one piece but no one
is too fussy about what happens along the way. Are you going to start
behaving or am I going to have to make you?" He groped between her thighs and she
felt his coarse fingers on her sex. "Nasty or nice, your choice. Now, are
you going to behave?"
Nodding was hard with her head held by the hair but Sue managed it. Maybe
she'd live to fight another day.
"Good girl." For all his threatened rape, her captor seemed more
interested in her acquiescence than actually attacking her. That said, he didn't pull
her panties back up as rolled off her. Then, as if nothing out of the
ordinary was happening, he returned to sitting against the wall of the van,
pulled out a newspaper and started discussing with his mate the line up for the
Spurs Arsenal derby due the next day. Meanwhile Sue just lay there.
Curiously, her main wish was that she could pull her panties back up. They hadn't
been pushed much beyond the top of her thighs but that was more than enough to
highlight how vulnerable she was. Feeling exposed, uncomfortable and scared
out of her wits, she wondered what was in store for her as the van drove off
through the night.


Mistaken Identity Chapter 3
============================================================================
After what seemed like hours Sue felt the van pull off the motorway. From
the time they had taken she guessed they were well outside London and, from
the way the van twisted and turned, she guessed countryside rather than town.
Then the van stopped, she heard some muffled sounds from the front, the van
started again, drove forward for a while, then reversed and then, finally
drew to a halt. The back door to the van was opened and Sue looked out to see
that they were in some sort or warehouse. However, she didn't have time for
rumination. The door had been opened by a woman who wore a white lab coat
and who wore a mask similar to the one her captors wore. Her captors jumped
out of the van and gave the clipboard to the woman along with Sue's handbag.
As she compared Sue's credit cards and driving license with the notes on the
clipboard, she checked the details of the kidnapping with Sue's captors.
"OK, this all checks out," she said at last. "Take her to processing, will
you?"
Her captors reached back into the van and, grabbing her by the arms,
dragged her out. With her ankles bound she was unable to walk so she was slung
over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried off, down a corridor and
into room, which was coldly utilitarian and functional. A long table covered
in unidentifiable bits and pieces ran down one side and, next to it, was a
full length mirror. In the centre of the room was an upright metal frame about
the size of a door. Wrist and ankle cuffs hung on short lengths of chain
from each corner of this frame and the whole thing was fixed to a low dolly on
which it could be wheeled around. Sue was lowered from the shoulder, which
had carried her and lifted up into the frame and, whilst one of her captors
held her upright the other looked in his pockets for the keys to the padlock
holding her wrists.
Sue was hoping that she could put up some sort of a struggle when her
wrists were freed but she hadn't allowed for the length of time she had been
handcuffed. Her arms were numb and lifeless and, before she regained any sort of
control, her wrists had been lifted up and fastened to the cuffs. Now that
she was able to support herself the tape around her ankles was removed and
it was no time before they too were cuffed and Sue was left spread-eagled
within the frame. Once this was done the frame was turned on its dolly so that
Sue was facing away from the table and into the room.
"Thanks, lads, I'll take it from here," the woman from the van said. She
had followed them in and, now that Sue was firmly in place, her captors could
leave and she came round in front of Sue and looked her up and down.
Satisfied that all was well she disappeared from view, returning a moment later
minus the mask and clipboard but holding a curious collar arrangement which
she proceeded to fasten around Sue's neck.
"This is an electric shock collar. They're sold as training aids for dogs,"
 the woman started to explain as she tightened the straps so that it fitted
snugly against her neck. "There is some debate amongst dog owners as to
their effectiveness and some feel that they should be banned for being
excessively cruel. That's as may be, we don't use them on dogs, we use them on
slaves such as yourself. You look confused, so let me explain. While you're here
under our control we demand, and will enforce, total and absolute
obedience. Of course we expect a certain amount of resistance, and some slave owners
even prefer our more, shall we say, feisty offerings. They find it so much
more satisfying when the will is finally broken. We, on the other hand, are
only interested in selling you and don't have time for all that so, to make
life easy, we use the collars. You will obey because, if you don't, you will
receive short sharp shock. Like this."
The woman pressed a button on a remote control and, immediately, the side
of Sue's neck erupted with pain as the electric shock coursed through it.
"Now that," the woman continued calmly, "was only a small sample of what
the collar can provide. I had it on a relatively low setting so there's
plenty more in reserve." The woman turned the remote so that Sue could see that
the dial pointed to about quarter power. "If you force me to use it again
then the next time it will be on a higher setting and after that, a higher one
still. If you want to fight it, if you want to find out just how much you
can stand, then be my guest. I can assure you that you will break long before
we reach full power. Do I make myself completely clear?"
Sue nodded.
"Very well. The first rule you are going to learn is that slaves stay
silent at all times and only speak in answer to a direct question. I'm going to
remove the tape covering your mouth but if I hear one squeak out of you then
I press the button." Again the woman held up the remote so that Sue could
see that her thumb was poised over a big red button. "OK?"
Sue nodded again and the woman reached up, took hold of a corner of the
tape covering Sue's mouth and, with a sudden yank, pulled it away. Sue couldn'
t help but give a little cry, partially of pain and partially of surprise.
The woman had obviously anticipated this because, as soon as Sue did so, a
vicious jolt of electricity coursed from the collar. This, in turn, caused Sue
to cry out again which resulted in yet another shock. It was only by using
the utmost willpower that Sue was, this time, able to clamp her lips shut
and hold back the cry that threatened to burst from her.
As Sue hung from the manacles shaking with repressed emotions, the woman
could not have been less perturbed. She went to the table behind Sue and
returned with a heavy-duty pair of scissors, which she used to cut the shoulder
straps of Sue's dress. Immediately it started to fall and, as it did so, the
woman didn't bother with the zipper but grabbed it and gave a sharp tug,
ripping the flimsy material. A couple of snips with the scissors was all that
was needed before the remnants of the dress were being tossed into a waste
bin.
"Hey, that cost sixty quid from Next!" Sue screamed internally but,
wisely, didn't say out loud. But it wasn't just prudence that kept her mouth
shut. She was beginning to process what the woman had said. She had talked about
`slaves' and `owners' and about breaking her will. If her fears about
what was in store for her were anything like true then it looked like the fate
of her dress was going to be the last thing on her mind. The woman now
turned her attention to Sue's underwear. The thin lacy material of her bra and
panties was no match for the scissors and, although her sheer nylon tights
needed more cutting, they too were soon in shreds. The only thing that gave the
woman the slightest bother was getting the last remnants of the tights
through the cuffs which held her ankles but even that didn't hold her up for
long and pretty soon Sue was completely naked.
Well, not quite naked; the final touch was when the woman removed Sue's
jewelry, taking out her earrings and pulling the rings from her fingers.
Somehow this made Sue feel even more naked than losing her clothes.
The woman then returned with her clipboard and proceeded to check and
measure Sue from head to foot. It seemed as if every inch of her was inspected,
measured, noted. She stood behind Sue and reached round, cupping each breast
in her hand, feeling their heft and massaging them with her fingers to gauge
their firmness. Then the massaging became more directed. As the woman's
fingers gently teased the buds of Sue's nipples they responded, standing out
firm and proud. When the woman finished by giving them a hard pinch, Sue had
to fight to suppress a little cry that wasn't entirely brought on by pain.
After making a few more notes on the clipboard the woman came round, found
a stool and sat down in front of Sue. The woman remained dispassionate as
she reached forward and inspected Sue's groin, inside and out. After running
her fingers through Sue's neatly trimmed pubic hair she peeled back her
labia, giving them the same thorough inspection. Using the tip of her finger the
woman gently probed the folds of flesh, stroking the inner lips and the hood
of the clitoris and, as with her breasts, Sue could feel her body
responding. When the woman then probed at Sue's entrance, slipping her fingers inside
as far as the first knuckle. Sue was disturbed to find how easily they went
in. The woman then removed her fingers, which were now slick from Sue's
juices, and rubbed the tips of her fingers around the area surrounding Sue's
clitoris, watching it respond. Sue felt a pang of guilt that she was actually
disappointed when this stopped. The woman then stood up and returned to the
table behind Sue.
When Sue heard the snap of surgical rubber gloves, she didn't need to see
the lubricant being applied to the woman's forefinger to know which part of
her body was next for inspection. Her buttocks were spread and the woman
probed at her sphincter until she broke through, sliding her finger deep inside
Sue's anus. The woman's finger was slim and she had used plenty of
lubricant so, as with when the woman had fondled Sue's breasts and played with her
vagina, despite the almost mechanical way she was being handled, Sue was
finding that her body was responding.
Although she had never actually indulged, Sue had always thought that there
was something deliciously dirty about anal sex and, now, whether she liked
it or not, this was what was happening to her. This, added to the
emotionless way in which the woman was working, was a powerful stimulant and Sue even
ended up pushing backwards a little. This just earned her a swift smack on
her buttock and Sue felt it prudent not to repeat this in case the woman
reached for the shock collar controller.
But that just added to the tumult of fear and confusion roiling inside Sue.
She knew this was wrong, very wrong; she knew she ought to be terrified,
indeed, she was terrified; but why then was she also getting so aroused? She
ought to be fighting, resisting this abuse, but she found herself
acquiescing, welcoming the intruder into her backside, and it wasn't just for fear of
the collar.
After a while the woman finished probing and removed her finger but a few
moments later, Sue felt something else pressing against her sphincter and,
this time, it wasn't a finger. It was something hard, some mechanical and
somewhat thicker than the finger had been. Then there was a pumping sound and
whatever it was that was in her bottom started to expand further, growing
wider and wider inside her. Sue was close to the limit of what she could stand
when the woman stopped. She tugged at whatever was in Sue's anus, confirming
that it was not going to come out easily. Then there was a certain amount of
tugging and sloshing noises from behind Sue's back until....
As the water from the enema flowed into Sue's bowels she immediately felt
full and cramped. After giving only the shortest while for things to settle
down the woman hung the enema bag from the frame next to Sue's head. If she
looked to her right she could see the fluid level dropping and gauge how much
more she was going to have to take. She was close to crying out, begging
for mercy, taking a risk on the shock collar, simply to tell the woman that
she couldn't take any more when she heard the snap of the surgical gloves
being removed and the sound of footsteps retreating. She looked to her right
just in time to watch the woman head for the door and, when it closed behind
her, she realised she was now alone.
Sue flexed the muscles of her buttocks, struggling to find a comfortable
position but, however much she moved, there wasn't one. At last the flow
stopped and, after that, the cramping slowly eased. However she still felt that
she needed the toilet more than she had ever done before and this feeling
just got worse and worse. Believing that she was unobserved, she briefly
struggled against the cuffs that held her but to no avail. She wasn't going to
escape and she wasn't going to find any comfort.


Mistaken Identity Chapter 4
============================================================================
On the other side of the two-way mirror Barry and Geoff were watching her
struggle. The masks they had worn when they had been her captors lay on the
table in front of them along with two open pizza boxes. Gill, who had been `
inspecting' Sue, had also been the van driver and, on their way to the
warehouse, she had used her mobile to order pizzas from the local take-away. Then,
while she was doing the initial inspection, Geoff had been sent to pick
them up. Now, with Sue suitably restrained, it was time for a break. Gill came
in, went over to a sink in the corner, washed her hands thoroughly and sat
down at the table.
"Is that one mine?" Gill asked, pointing at the one unopened box.
"Yeah, four seasons, right," Geoff replied.
"Thanks, Geoff."
"So, how's it going?"
"Fine, fine. No problems at all. Mind you, I don't think I've ever had one
so deep into the role," Gill replied. "I'd swear her reactions are
genuine; it's almost as if she doesn't know it's make believe. If she wasn't
getting off on it I'd be worried."
"But she is getting off on it. She's hot and ready to trot?" Barry asked.
"Yeah, didn't you see how easy my fingers slipped inside her pussy and,
when I poked her up the arse, she was practically begging for more. Is anal
part of the script? I assume so, what with the enema and all."
Barry picked up a folder that was lying on the table and flicked through
it. The third page was a copy of the questionnaire that Jennifer had filled
in. He picked it out and ran a finger down the list of activities until he
found the one he was looking for.
"Here we go; she's given anal four stars so, if it's not, then it ought to
be." He turned to the rest of the file flicked through the pages. "Ah,
here we go, yes, she gets anal, but don't you be getting your hopes up, Geoff
baby, she's going bi-curious. We'll just be onlookers."
"If you read the script before we started you'd already know that," Geoff
commented.
"Yeah, but I like to wing it. Makes my performance more spontaneous. So, if
she's going bi-curious, who's playing the Countess?"
"Fiona's got that one. I'm stuck with playing the auctioneer, again,"
Gill said bitterly. "Why can't I be the Countess for a change?"
"Because Fiona looks good in heels and you look good in glasses and a
business suit," Barry replied. "But look at this way, playing the auctioneer is
better than playing one of the slaves."
Gill, miffed at being told that Fiona looked better in heels, shot him a
glance that would have scorched titanium, but this friendly joshing was all
part and parcel of being part of the `cast'. This banter continued as Barry
put the script back on the table and the three of them finished off the
pizzas, washing them down with cans of Coke.
"Well, no peace for the wicked," Gill said when she had finished the last
slice. "It's time for our little lady to get scrubbed down. See you later."
And with that Gill returned to the room where Sue still hung from the frame.
Gill could see the relief on Sue's face when she returned. However, her
discomfort was far from over. Gill kicked the lever that unlocked the brakes on
the wheels of the dolly and pushed it towards a large pair of doors at the
end of the room. The doors swung back when the dolly hit them to reveal a
bathroom area a bit like the changing rooms at the gym. At the far end was an
open shower located over a drain in the floor. Gill pushed the dolly until
it was over the drain and then locked the wheels. She went to a cupboard
where she fitted over her lab coat a plastic overall followed by a surgical mask
over her face, surgical gloves and hat along with some eye protectors that
fitted over her normal glasses. She took a bucket from the bottom shelf,
which she used to carry hair shampoo, shower gel, shaving foam, a razor and a
natural sponge. These she arranged on a shelf before taking the bucket and
putting it on the dolly between Sue's legs. She released the valve on the
enema nozzle so that it shrunk and could be eased out, picking up the bucket as
she did so. Sue wasn't sure what was expected of her but, as soon as the
enema plug was removed, she could hold back no longer and, with an immense
sense of release, she voided her bowels.
With a look of absolute distaste, and feeling as if this was where she
really earned her wages, Gill took the bucket and emptied the contents down the
toilet. She rinsed it out with disinfectant and put on the ground next to
the toilet bowl. Returning to where Sue hung, she reached for the showerhead,
turned it up full blast and directed it at Sue's backside. The shock to Sue
as the water hit her buttocks was partially mitigated by the sense of relief
that the end of the enema had left her with.
At first Gill merely washed away the results of the enema. Pointing the
showerhead directly at Sue's buttocks and the back of her legs, she repeatedly
soaked and rinsed until all was completely clean. This done, she started in
earnest, soaking Sue from head to foot before reattaching the showerhead to
its holder and returning with the hair shampoo. Although the circumstances
were undeniably bizarre, Sue actually enjoyed having the rich lather massaged
over her scalp. Then Gill switched to the shower gel and sponge, washing
down Sue's body, starting with her face and working all the way down until
every inch and every nook and cranny was thoroughly clean.
Before rinsing Sue off, Gill swapped the shower gel and sponge for the
shaving foam and razor. Although Sue had shaved her armpits earlier, Gill still
lathered them up and did them again. Then, inevitably, Sue's pubic mound was
in for the same treatment. Although Sue had already trimmed her pubic bush
to a neat `landing strip' this was not going to suffice and Gill, grabbing
a stool, sat down in front of her and worked away at removing every trace of
hair.
Sue gave another shudder. Was that because of the chill she felt a result
of standing wet and naked? Was it brought on by the eerie silence as her
intimate parts were shaven? Was it the feel as the blade slid over her sensitive
flesh, both titillating and worrying? She didn't want to get nicked. She
sincerely hoped that the woman would continue with the level of care and
attention had brought to the rest of her treatment. Maybe it was it a mixture of
all of the above. Maybe it was the continuing chaos of her confused jumble
of emotions.
She was still trying to process what the woman had said about `slaves' and
`owners'. Whilst she had heard that slavery was still endemic in parts of
the third world, surely that didn't mean that ordinary British women were
snatched from the streets of London? Furthermore, the care and attention being
lavished on her meant that she wasn't destined to end up in a sweatshop
sewing trainers and, surely, if they were looking for girls to be sold into
prostitution in the back street brothels of some Far East city then they would
be looking for someone younger than her. So, almost as strong as the `what'
s going on?' confusion was the equally baffling `why me?'
Countering these fears, part of her was firmly in denial. Somewhere amongst
all this were her adolescent fantasies about being whisked away by some
sort of Rudolph Valentino figure. A romantic novel she had read as a teenager
had caught her fancy and, whilst she knew it was pure tosh aimed to
titillate, the images it had evoked had fuelled her fantasies ever since. The woman
busy working away between her thighs was playing directly into this fantasy.
Not that she was some mysterious stranger sweeping her away on a wild
stallion or anything like that. More it was the sense that Sue was being prepared,
that, having been captured, she was being titivated for the benefit of
whoever was eventually going to take advantage of her. Was it any wonder that,
along with the fears and uncertainties, there was a tingling anticipation
about who it was that had ordered this?
>From Sue's perspective Gill seemed to be frustratingly overzealous. Time
after time she'd run her fingers over Sue's recently denuded flesh feeling
for any roughness and, when she found some, she would once again apply the
razor. At last, when she was finally satisfied, she rinsed the area off with
the showerhead, after which she set to with some tweezers picking out the
hairs she had missed with the razor or those in areas where the razor couldn't
reach. Unsurprisingly, there were a significant number of those in the
perineum, where Sue had found it hardest to shave and, as Gill plucked them out,
Sue was hard pressed to contain the little squeaks of pain, which threatened
to escape. At one point the she wasn't quite successful and Gill reached
under the plastic overalls for the remote for the shock collar, looked up at
Sue and gestured meaningfully. After that Sue, wondering if the shock collar
would even be safe under the shower, bit her lip to keep herself quiet.
Eventually Gill was satisfied so she picked up the showerhead one more time
and, this time, rinsed Sue down from head to foot. Then, using soft white
towels she picked from a pile, she toweled her down from head to toe. With
Sue clean and dry, Gill took off the protective clothing, unlocked the wheels
of the dolly and pushed it back into the other room.


Mistaken Identity Chapter 5
============================================================================
When they got there she picked up off the table a wide leather belt. When
Sue saw that it had cuffs attached she knew exactly what it was and where it
was going. It looked like her time in the frame was over. The belt was made
from hard leather and wide enough to stretch from the top of Sue's hips to
the bottom of her ribs. Gill did the three fastening buckles up quite tightly
so it constricted her waist almost like a short corset. When Sue's left
wrist was freed from the frame she had more sense than to fight it. After all,
her other three limbs were still attached and the shock collar was still
around her neck. [Exceeding my remit, how is it that the shock collar remained
on Sue during the shower? Dangerous, no?]The right hand was next and Sue had
to concentrate on keeping her balance until her feet were freed.
Gill moved a stool in front of the mirror and gestured with the shock
collar remote that Sue should go and sit on it. A link from the back of the stool
was fastened to a D ring on the belt and ankle cuffs attached to the front
legs of the stool made sure Sue would stay put. Gill then took a brush and
dryer and proceeded to style Sue's hair. Once it was dry she moved behind Sue
to give her a manicure and replace her nail varnish. Sue couldn't, of
course, see exactly what was happening but, judging from the bottle, her nails
were going to end up a bright scarlet. This was repeated for her toenails and
this time Sue could see and confirm that, yes, they were going pillar box
red. Whilst waiting for Sue's nails to dry, Gill started on her make-up. She
selected a range of pencils and powders from the table and set to on Sue's
eyes. Gill had spend some time working away before she turned for some more
eye shadow and Sue was able to see the progress so far. Grudgingly she had to
admit that, although the look she was being given was tartier than she would
have chosen, it wasn't too bad. Gill was obviously an accomplished
beautician. Mind you, Sue would never have chosen lipstick in that bright red shade,
even if it did match her nails.
But, even then, Gill wasn't quite finished. She turned one more time to the
table and, when she turned back she was holding three items which looked
like tweezers except that the gripping ends were covered with rubber tips,
there was a sliding ring to lock them shut and the other end had a little bell
attached. Starting with Sue's left breast Gill leaned forward and gave her
nipple a little kiss, sucking and nibbling until it was fully erect. Then,
pulling the nipple out with her fingers, she clamped the tweezers around it
and slid the ring up until grip was firm. This whole procedure was then
repeated on the right breast so that Sue was now wearing a matching pair.
Sue had already guessed where the third clip was going and, when Gill
pushed her knees farther apart, her guess was confirmed. Gill used her left hand
to hold Sue's labia apart and, after licking her fight forefinger, used it
to gently stimulate Sue's clitoris. The insistent throbbing from the nipple
clamps was already having an effect and Gill's forefinger, along with the
knowledge of what was coming, was just what was required to have Sue's clitoris
aroused and poking out. This time, when the clamp was applied, Sue couldn't
avoid a shudder and she was fighting back the urge to cry out. Gill, noting
this, moved it slightly so that the clamp was around the hood rather than
directly on her clitoris and, when the jaws were closed, the pain, although
still very much there, was now bearable.
Gill disappeared for a while, returning with a shoebox from one of the
better West End stores. From this she removed a pair of strappy high-heeled
shoes. Sue's heart sunk. She had obviously worn heels before but these were
extreme and she knew she would struggle. Gill knelt down before her and undid
the ankle cuffs before fitting them. Then she undid the link which held the
belt to the stool and ordered Sue to rise.
When she got to her feet, walking was as hard as Sue had feared. She was
tottering on the heels and, with her arms firmly fixed behind her back, she
couldn't use them to balance her. The three clamps, especially the one on her
clitoral hood is punished every clumsy move as they tugged at her sensitive
flesh. Impatiently Gill ordered her to walk by swinging her hips and, using
a cane to reinforce her points, instructed Sue on the small, mincing steps
she would need to use in these heels. Satisfied at last that Sue could walk
without falling, Gill led her from the room, down a corridor and through a
door marked `Display Room'.


Mistaken Identity Chapter 6
============================================================================
This room, while not particularly large, was well appointed. At one end was
a seating area with a sofa and two armchairs arranged around a coffee
table. At the other was a small dais and, arranged across it were three upright
chrome metal poles, each maybe waist height. From the top of each pole hung a
short length of chain with a quick release clip on the end. Sue had trouble
stepping up onto the dais. The nine inch rise nearly defeated her, but Gill
held her arm to support her and she was led over to the left hand pole
where she was positioned with her back to it. The chain from the pole was
attached to the D ring at the back of the belt and Sue was, once again, locked in
place.  From off to one side Gill fetched a block, nine inches square and
two feet long which was covered in the same carpeting as the dais. This was
placed between Sue's ankles so that she was forced into a wide legged stance.
Gill stood back, tilted her head to one side and gave Sue a long, critical
look. Evidently she was satisfied with what she saw as she then turned on her
heel and left.
All Sue could do was wait. She could not reach to where the chain was
attached to her belt so she wasn't going anywhere. Although she could reach for
the top of the pole with her hands the extra support it gave was minimal and
Sue was fast finding how the simple act of standing still can be tiring when
wearing such extreme heels. However, she hadn't been waiting long before
the door opened and Gill reappeared leading a woman who was similarly dressed,
or should that be undressed, as Sue was. As this woman was led over and
attached to the far right post she glanced across and her eyes spoke a symphony
of fear and dread. It wasn't long after this that two became three. This
time the woman being fastened to the middle post was tall, thin and very
black. She brought to mind a documentary Sue had seen on the Masai tribe, elegant
and poised, except in this case, she was obviously distressed as well. Gill
gave a quick glance around, ensuring all was ready before disappearing
again.
Sue looked across at her companions. Both were attractive women and, with
the combination of the wide stance, the high heels enhancing their legs and
the way their cuffed wrists forced them to stand with their breasts thrust
forward, there was no doubt that they were being shown at their best. As with
Sue they were closely shaven and the hint of shower gel in the air suggested
that they had been prepared in the same way. Sue smiled at the black girl,
trying to make some sort of contact, but she seemed too scared to respond.
The door opened again but this time it wasn't Gill who entered but a woman
dressed not unlike those on the stage. She was evidently the end product of
the process into which they had been thrown. Like the exhibits she wore
little more than high heels and a wide leather belt but, unlike the exhibits,
her collar was more decorative than functional and, as an extra, she wore
matching leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles. Another significant difference
was the vivid red stripes across her backside. Evidently it wasn't just
shock collars that were used for training.  She was carrying a tray, which she
put down on the table, taking from it and arranging champagne in its ice
bucket and the accompanying four flutes to make a harmonious display. This done,
she went over and stood against the wall, straight and upright and looking
very pretty. Then it was back to waiting.
It was only five minutes or so later that Gill did appear. Her lab coat was
gone and she was dressed in a charcoal grey business suit, the `A' line
skirt coming to just below the knee. She was accompanied by three others, two
men, both smartly dressed business types, and another woman who was tall,
slim and elegant. Chatting gaily they sat down on the sofa and armchairs and
the `slave' who had brought the tray in, taking the role of hostess, opened
the champagne and poured out four glasses. These were evidently the `owners'
 and Sue was hardly surprised when, as she was pouring, one of the men
reached between the thighs of the slave and groped between her thighs. Indeed,
even when the champagne was poured, he continued to hold her and Sue could
see her squirming in an attempt to avoid his attentions.
"And so, Herr Otto," Gill started, "if you can keep your hands off Trixie
for a moment. As you know, she is not for sale; well, not today, anyway. Is
there anything on the stage which takes your interest?"
With this the three `owners' turned their attention to the stage. Suddenly
Sue felt more naked, more open, more exposed than she had ever felt before.
Sure, she had been naked ever since her clothes had been ripped from her
when she had first arrived. Sure, the woman who had prepared her had taken
outrageous liberties with the most intimate parts of her body. Sure, she had
been standing, on display, her breasts thrust out and her legs wide open, for
some time, but now, now it was different. The three `owners' turned towards
the stage and scrutinized the girls. More than anything Sue wanted to close
her legs but the shock collar remote was just there on the table and she
knew what would happen if she did. She found herself starting to shake, which
made the bells attached to her nipples and clitoris ring out.
"As you know, I am looking for new ponies for my farm. The black mare would
look fine between the shafts of a sulky, but I might be interested in the
others as well, if the price is right. Tell me, are there many bidders
tonight?" Herr Otto replied in a strong German accent.
"Apart from the three of you here we have a further nine on our internet
feed," Gill replied, following the script. Secretly she was appalled at the
way that Barry was hamming it up as Herr Otto, but the client seemed to be
buying it.
"I thought you only had two girls on offer," Geoff, acting as `Walt' from
the US of A, said in what he thought passed for a Texan drawl.
"Well, Walt, that was the plan but we had a last minute addition. The one
on the left was only picked up this evening. That's why we're a few minutes
late starting the sale."
"May I?" `Walt' took a large cigar out of his pocket and, without waiting
for an answer, proceeded to light it. In response, `Herr Otto' took out a
pack of Turkish cigarettes and put one in a long thin holder before lighting
it.
"And you, Countess, do you wish to smoke?" Gill asked of the woman who had
come in with them.
"As you are aware, my vices lie elsewhere," the Countess replied. "But we
are not here to smoke, it is not long before the sale and I want to inspect
the goods before I buy."
She got up and, followed by the others, went over the stage. The Countess
spoke in a strong accent, which Sue thought might be, for example, Brazilian.
She certainly had the color for such a Latin background. In fact Fiona, who
was playing the Countess, was from Croydon. Her Latin looks were the result
of her Italian father and her color the result of regular foreign holidays.
At first the three owners just walked about, going from one captive girl to
another and looking at them from all angles. However, it wasn't long before
look turned to touch as the owners' inspections got closer and closer. The
Texan went as far as to peel back Sue's lip and, with a curt `open', he
inspected her teeth. Meanwhile, `Herr Otto' was lifting the black girls
breasts, weighing them, pushing them from side to side.
"This filly, her breasts are a trifle large for pony work," he commented
ruefully. "That is a pity because, otherwise, she's a fine specimen."
"What's the problem with big tits?" `Walt' objected. "My ranch hands,
they like a bit of tit on a girl. The bigger the better as far as they're
concerned."
"It's the racing," Herr Otto explained. "When she runs they will swing
about and slow her down. I require sleeker lines. And now let us look at this
filly." He came over and joined `Walt' in front of Sue. The bells on her
nipple clamps jingled as he felt her breasts, lifting them, peering
underneath, presumably looking for breast enhancement scars.
"This one is better," he said. "The breasts are firm and natural. There's
more than enough to know she's not a stallion but she should be fine when
racing. Do you see?" he asked. `Walt' followed his lead, jiggling Sue's
breasts around and agreed that they were suitable. "I feel she would be perfect
with a little training," Herr Otto continued as bent down and felt Sue's
calves and then her thighs, just as if her were buying a horse. "Yes, yes,
she has good muscle tone, very fine indeed."
Sue shuddered as Herr Otto's hands continue to wander over her body. It
would almost have been preferable if he had seen her as a sex object rather
than livestock for racing. This did not play at all to her Rudolf Valentino
fantasy.
"My boys spend enough time with real horses to want to play with human ones
on their time off," Walt said with a laugh. "They're simple boys. They
want `em leggy, blonde and willing. Mind you, I'm prepared to make an
exception on the blonde part for Black Beauty here." He indicated the girl fastened
to the middle post. "How's she for gobbling. You say she's had basic
training. Do you mind if I...?"
"No, please, go ahead, be my guest," Gill replied.
`Walt' reached behind Black Beauty's' waist for the clip which held her
belt, undid it, and pushed her to her knees. He unzipped his fly, pulled out
his penis and stood in front of her.
"Come on, honey, show Uncle Walt just how willing you are and maybe I'll
buy you for my ranch hands. They like a little dark meat from time to time."
Black Beauty made a small show of reluctance but `Walt' grabbed her by the
hair, which made her cry out and, when she did, he forced himself inside
her.
`Black Beauty', whose real name was Celia, had known all along that this
was coming. After all, it was in the script and, to tell the truth, she didn'
t really mind. It wasn't just that ExF paid well for her services, although
the fact that she had paid off her student loan, and had quite a bit put
away in the bank, was a big plus. Far more relevant was the relaxed attitude
that had, by necessity, developed within the cast. When your job involves
repeated intimate contact it is impossible to be uptight about such things and
if, this time, she was the one giving Geoff a blowjob, he might well end up
repaying the favor next time around. And then, well, while she wouldn't admit
it too loudly to the others, she was never that upset when she `drew the
short straw' and sometimes, with a show of mock reluctance, she would end up
offering to play the submissive roles. Partially because it was what the role
required and partially because she did enjoy her work, she did her utmost
to give Geoff the best blow-job she could and was ready and willing to
swallow his sperm when it came.


Mistaken Identity Chapter 7
============================================================================
Whilst `Black Beauty' was busy giving `Walt' his blow-job, Herr Otto went
over to join the Countess who was inspecting the girl on the left hand
post. Sue watched as the Countess reached down and pushed her fingers between
the woman's lower lips. The Countess stared into the girl's eyes as she did
so but the slave made only a minimal response. After a few moments of this
the Countess withdrew her hand and dismissively glanced at the tips of her
fingers.
"This one, she is a cold fish," the Countess commented. "I am not
interested in cold fish. You can train for obedience but you cannot train for
passion. I want my girls to be passionate. What about this other one? Is she
passionate?"
The Countess came over and stood in front of Sue, standing so close that,
as with the other girl, she could reach down and slip her fingers between Sue'
s freshly shaven lips. The clamp that had been fitted around Sue's clitoral
hood, and the constant throbbing it produced, had kept Sue at least
semi-aroused and sensitive to each and every movement. Now the Countess's expert
fingers were adding their own piquancy to the mix and the bell on the end of
the clamp wasn't the only one that was ringing.
Despite herself, Sue couldn't help but react to this delicious teasing and,
almost imperceptibly, she pushed herself forward. This, however, was
exactly what the Countess was waiting for. She removed her fingers and held the
glistening tips up for all to see.
"Hmm... this is more like it. Let's find out if it's the real thing, shall
we?" the Countess glanced over at the waitress. "You, girl, Trixie, isn't
it?"
Trixie hurried over and curtseyed in front of the Countess.
"I wish to see if this girl has genuine passion. You know what to do."
Angela, who was playing Trixie, did know just what to do and not just
because it was in the script. Unlike Celia, she was quite open about her
preferences. She loved to play the submissive roles and, when they were putting this
scene together, it was she who had suggested this part of it. She knelt
down in front of Sue and gently took the bell that dangled from the clit clamp
in her hand.
"Please, Countess," she asked. "May I remove this whilst I...?"
"If you feel it would get in the way."
"Thank you, Countess."
`Trixie' unclipped the clamp and immediately leaned forward and probed
with her tongue.  The sharp pain as the blood returned to Sue's clitoris was
mitigated by `Trixie' quite literally kissing it better. Now she was
seriously conflicted. Not only was she being turned on against her will, it was
being done by another woman. She was straight, definitely straight, so on both
counts it was wrong and there was no way on earth that she could possibly be
getting off on this outrageous treatment. She wanted to close her legs, she
wanted to turn away, she wanted this all to just stop but.... On the other
hand `Trixie' was an expert and knew from first hand experience just what a
girl needed immediately after a clit clamp had been removed. The play of her
tongue against Sue's flesh was both soothing and arousing and, as she
played sweet music with the sensitive folds below so the Countess took Sue's chin
in her hand and held it so that they stared into each other's eyes.
Sue felt like a bug under a microscope. The thing that riled her, the thing
that really got her goat, was that this damnable woman, this Countess,
seemed to think that she was some sort of sex doll, that, by simply pressing the
right buttons, she could be made to come on command. And the worst of it
was that it would appear that she was right. Despite, or was that because of,
the bizarre situation she found herself in, she could feel the climax
building with her and, mindful of the rule about speaking out loud, she had to
stifle a moan of pleasure. Again the Countess was quick to pick up on this.
"Ah yes, just as I thought, she loves what little Trixie is doing to her,"
the Countess smiled, "I see it in her eyes. She was a slave long before she
was captured, a slave to the fire in her loins. A slave to the unspoken
hungers she would try to deny. Purchasing this one would be doing her a favor,
allowing her to fulfill her destiny, allowing her to really explore the
depths of her depravity. She would be wasted as one of your ponies, Herr Otto;
she has so much more to give than pulling a sulky."
"Maybe my customers would like to sample some of this depravity," Herr
Otto replied. "After all, when the races are over, it is time for the stallion
to service the mare."
"And what do your `stallions' know about servicing a woman's body? Your `
mares' are just another hole into which they can ram their manhoods. No, it
takes a woman to really understand another woman's body. Look! Look! She's
come to her climax!"
Indeed, Sue was overwhelmed by a combination of the bizarre situation,
Trixie's ministrations, and speculation as to what would be involved when Herr
Otto's stallions serviced her or, more mysterious still, the Countess's `
dark depravities'. Although she would never, in a million years, have said that
it would be possible for her to climax standing up, that was exactly what
was happening to her. Her knees were buckling and she was struggling to stay
upright but she had no other option. Her bound wrists would not let her
fall. This tension merely added to the fire and, in the end, she couldn't hold
back any more. Leaning backwards and grasping the top of the post with her
hands, she let out a massive groan of pleasure as the fire from her groin
washed through her. She had to fight to stay balanced on her high heels as wave
after wave crashed through her. Then, her passion spent and shaking like a
leaf, she slumped forward, unbidden tears rolling down her face.  The
Countess, who was still holding Sue's chin, leant forward and gently licked the
salty moisture from her cheeks.
"Yes, indeed, this one would be wasted as a pony. She has so much more to
give and I'm just the one to take it from her," the Countess said with
satisfaction.
"We shall see," Herr Otto replied. "The bidding has not started yet."
"But we already have all our internet clients on line and we would like to
start as soon as possible," Gill interrupted them. "If you would be so kind
as to take your seats, then we can get the first sale under way."
As the three owners returned to the seating area Gill refastened Black
Beauty to her post and then turned to Sue. Trixie had anticipated Gill's
requirement, or rather she had read the script, so she passed Gill cloth to wipe
down Sue's thighs and a make-up kit to do emergency repairs  where repairs
where Sue's mascara had run. This done, Trixie returned to serving champagne to
the owners and Gill fitted a headset and walked to the centre of the stage.
On cue a large screen television positioned on one of the side walls
switched on. Sue saw that it showed a video feed of the room and when she looked
at the ceiling above the seating area, she could see the camera.


Mistaken Identity Chapter 8
============================================================================
 "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Gill started. "Tonight we have
three delightful young female slaves on sale for you. The details should have
been emailed to you under the usual secure arrangements. If not, they are
available as usual on the web site. You all know the procedure by now, all bids
are considered binding and all transactions are in pounds sterling. Current
exchange rates are shown on our financials page.
"So, without further ado, let's move on to our first offering," Gill
indicated with her hand the girl on the far right, "which is a twenty five year
old British girl. She was captured nine days ago and has been in our care
ever since. During this time she has undergone basic training and health
checks. Details, as ever, are on the site. So, let's have a closer look. Trixie,
if you'd be so kind."
Trixie came up onto the stage, went over to the girl, released her from the
post and, guiding her by the back of the belt, took her to the front of the
dais. The girl was then paraded around, turning this way and that so that
every aspect or her was displayed. At one point she was bent over and Trixie
spread her buttocks so that her backside was presented to the camera. All
the while Gill extolled her virtues, an auctioneer putting maximum spin on the
object she was selling. And, as far as the sales pitch went, the girl was
an object. The spin stressed her stressed the size and firmness of her
breasts rather than her IQ score, even if they knew it. The buyers wanted a doll,
a sex doll, not a person.
And then the auction itself started. Sue was amazed at the amount of money
being bandied about. Six figure sums were the norm, right from the start.
Notably none of the owners in the room were bidding but the screen showed the
current bid along with the screen name of the person who had made it.
Eventually the bidding petered out and, although Sue had no idea as to who had won
she heard Gill say that they would arrange shipping to Abu Dhabi as soon as
the payment had cleared.
And then it was the turn of Black Beauty. She was described as a twenty
three year old French girl of Sudanese extraction and, as part of the spiel,
they showed a clip of her giving Walt his blow job. As well as extolling her `
oral skills', Gill spent some time pointing out the virtues of Black Beauty'
s breasts and her Amazonian height. This time, when they got to the actual
auction, Walt was one of the bidders and, playing along with the script, he
had to fight off another bidder until he finally acquired what he wanted.
When she was `sold' Black Beauty was led over to kneel down on the floor and `
Walt' fondled her hair as they moved on to the last and final lot.
Like the others, Sue was unfastened from her post and led out to the front
of the stage. Like the others, she was paraded about and put on display.
When she was positioned at the front of the stage with her legs wide apart
Trixie stood behind her, reaching round from behind her to cup her breast so as
to offer them up to the camera. Once again Sue felt more naked than she had
ever been before. Now her breasts were thrust forward and her sex was gaping
open. She was being offered up, in every sense of the word, and, as well as
the three owners in the room there was the unblinking eye of the TV camera.
"And here we have a last minute addition to tonight's offerings," Gill
opened her spiel. "A last minute pick up, she was only acquired a few hours
ago. It is seldom we offer slaves so fresh from their freedom. She has been
thoroughly checked over and is certified free of piercings, tattoos, breast
enhancements or any scarring. What you see, ladies and gentlemen, is what you
get.
"But it's not just her physical charms that make this a very special
offering. Right from the start this little beauty has shown an innate
subservience that marks her out a natural slave. With the merest minimum of inducement
she has shown a level of compliance that normally requires weeks of
training. Why, even now, as she stands open and naked before you, her submissive
nature is plain to those who know where to look. All allow me to demonstrate.
Trixie, if you'd be so kind...."
Trixie, who was still standing directly behind Sue, used her left hand to
hold Sue's hair, keeping her head back and chin up.  To help keep her balance
on the high heels and to release some of the strain on her hair Sue leaned
back and let Trixie support her. With her right hand Trixie reached down for
Sue's groin and gently probed with her fingers. On screen, while the main
picture showed all of Sue, some digital trickery was used to open another
window, tightly focused on Trixie's fingers and the magic they worked on Sue's
unprotected sex. Trixie's fingers parted the folds of flesh so all could
see Sue's swollen clitoris signaling her arousal.
Sue just wished the ground would open up and swallow her. The auctioneer's
comments about her compliance were so unfair. She was under duress, under
threat from the shock collar. Who wouldn't stay quiet knowing that any false
move would result in instant agony? And, if her sex was responding to Trixie'
s busy fingers, then, well, the damn clit clamp had left her super
sensitive; after that who could blame her if such expert usage was having an effect
on her? And now everyone was assuming she welcomed such treatment. How, when
she was forbidden to speak, could she explain that it had nothing to do with
how she was being treated, nothing, nothing!
"Do you see how prettily she blushes, and yet how eagerly she responds to
Trixie's touch," Gill commented. "It would almost be cruel not to enslave
one such as her, one whose proclivities, whose whole disposition, is towards
submission. Just think what a slave such as this would add to your
collection. How, with the minimum of coercion, it will be easy to train her to serve
in whatever way you desire. Come now, let us open the bidding."
At first there was a flurry of bids but it soon settled down to a contest
between the Countess and Herr Otto. Each seemed determined to outbid the
other. Sue was amazed as the amounts soared into the higher six figures. Surely
these people must have money to burn.
And then the bidding started to slow and, finally, ended with the Countess
in the lead.
"Can I not tempt you a little more, Herr Otto? Just look at her breasts,"
Gill went over and caressed them, "did you not say yourself how suited they
are to a racing pony? With the right training, and who better than you to
provide such training, with the right training she could win many races."
"She would have to win many races at the prices you are charging," Herr
Otto quipped. "Enough, you will bankrupt me." He stood up, turned to the
Countess and gave her a smart bow. "You win, Countess. Your pockets are deeper
than mine. I hope you find that she is worth it."
"Thank you. Herr Otto," the Countess replied. "That's very gracious of
you. Be assured that, one way or another, I intend to get my money's worth.
And maybe, next time I'm in Austria, I'll pay you a visit and we'll see just
how well she fares around the race track."
"You are welcome any time, you know that. And now, if you'll excuse me, I
have business elsewhere."
"And I'm going to enjoy myself with this one," Walt said, taking Black
Beauty's hair and pulling it back so that she lifted her head. "I'm going to
give her a thorough road test, check that she's good for more than just
blowjobs."
"And you, Countess?" Gill asked.
"I need to contact my bank. I have spent rather more than I expected and
will need to transfer the funds. Could you have," the Countess paused for a
moment, "Rosalita, yes she is to be called Rosalita, will you have her taken
to my suite?"
"Of course," Gill replied. "Trixie would be delighted to assist."
"I'm sure she would," the Countess laughed.
And with that they all trooped out.


Mistaken Identity Chapter 9
============================================================================
When they had gone Trixie, who was still holding Sue, guided her to the
door, out, along a corridor, and into a well appointed suite of rooms. The main
room was a living area with a sofa, armchairs, a kitchenette area to one
side and a large screen television. Off on one side was a bedroom with an
attached en-suite bathroom. Sue was led through to the bedroom where she was
surprised to see a cage built into the foot-board of biggest bed she had ever
seen. The cage fitted right across the foot of the bed and was high enough to
project above it by a few inches so that the free height inside the cage
was just adequate to house a crouching slave. The frame of the cage was made
from the same wood as the bed and was nicely integrated; if a bed with a cage
at the end could be considered stylish then this was it. Trixie took off Sue
's shoes before opening the door at one end and guided Sue her down and
into the cage. It was a tight fit for both height and width. With her wrists
still locked behind her Sue had to shuffle forwards on her knees and, once
inside, she had to curl up quite tight before Trixie could close the door
behind her. However, the mattress was soft and, as she settled down inside, she
had the consolation of knowing she was going to be comfortable while she
waited. Trixie closed the door of the cage and locked it and, as she left, all
Sue could do was wait, wait to see what was going to be done to her next.
As Sue waited the cast were relaxing in the staffroom.
"God, Barry, if your German accent gets any more hammy we'll be making
sandwiches out of it," Gill exclaimed as she flopped on a sofa.
"Just playing to the script," Barry replied with a wide grin.
"Just playing the fool," Geoff replied.
"As if your Texan drawl was any more convincing," Barry retorted.
"Children, children," Celia cut across. Now that her part in the
proceedings was over she had changed back into a pink tracksuit and was ready to go
home. Barry thought that she looked gorgeous and was trying to build up the
courage to ask her out. Jayne, too, had changed into `civvies' as had Gill,
but Angela and Fiona, Trixie and the Countess respectively, were still in
costume. Angela had wrapped herself in a dressing gown, partially to keep
warm, partially for modesty. Whilst she had no problem strutting her stuff while
playing one of the scenarios, and, indeed, had been involved in a wide
range of sexual activities both with other cast members and with the punters,
here in the staffroom she always felt a little shy.
"Where's the boss?" Geoff asked. "She's usually here to watch when we
have a new customer."
"She got called to LA," Fiona replied. "Some movie star demanding an
immediate interview. She's not normally pushed around like that but money talks,
I guess."
"Some movie star? Who is it? Please tell me it's...."
"Never you mind who it is or isn't," Fiona cut across sharply. "We all
know the rules about client confidentiality and, if we do get this one, those
rules apply double. Anyway, the boss is due back some time tomorrow so I
guess she'll fill us all in on the details when she arrives." She glanced at
her watch. "Anyway, it's time for our little Rosalita to get fed. Angela,
are you all set?"
"Five minutes," Angela replied. She got up and went over to the kitchen
area where she found a dog's double feeding bowl. From the bread bin she took
three slices of granary and tore them into bite size chunks, putting them in
one of the bowls. The other side she filled with plain tap water. Picking
up her high heels she set off down the corridor until she was outside the
entrance to the suite area of the set. Putting the dog bowl on a table placed
next to the door, she put the shoes on the floor and stepped into them. She
was well practiced at walking in extreme heels but she still preferred not to
unless the script demanded it. Then she took off her dressing gown and hung
it on a hook next to the door. Back in costume and back in role, she
entered the suite as `Trixie'.
Sue looked up when she heard the door open, wondering what was in store for
her next. She was expecting the Countess but, instead, it was Trixie
carrying a dog bowl arrangement. Trixie came over to the cage and put the dog bowl
down on top of it. Then she undid a catch, which allowed part of the end of
the cage to fold down. This left a hole big enough for Sue to poke her head
through and the folded down bit made a sort of ledge on which the dog bowl
could be placed. As Trixie bent down to put the bowl on the ledge Sue looked
out at her.
"Please...." she started.
Angela looked at the caged woman. She was just about to go into role and
give a harsh rebuke when she saw the look of lost confusion in her eyes and,
despite the fact that she thought this was all play-acting, she took real
pity on her.
"We slaves are not supposed to talk," she said gently.
"But what's going to happen to me? Please, I need to know."
Angela stared again at the caged woman. She'd known the customers go deep
into role, after all, they were paying enough for the experience so they
would want to get the most from it, but even so this was extraordinary. It
really was as if this woman thought it was the real thing. But surely Gill and
the boys would have done their checks and, when she thought back to the scene
just before the auction, there was no mistaking then how much this woman had
got off on the abuse. With an internal sigh, Angela dismissed any doubts
she might have. If the client wanted to go this deep into the role then that's
what she was paying for and Angela, grateful for the employment, was glad
to oblige.
"You're a slave now. You were sold to the Countess. You'll stay here for a
day or two and then, when she returns to Venezuela, so will you."
"Venezuela!"
"Shh! the Countess is not a bad Mistress but she will be strict at first.
Learn to please her and all will be well. Now, eat up, that's all you will
get for a while and the Countess gets upset if you don't finish your food."
Sue looked at the bread and water in front of her.
"I'd rather die," she said with vehemence.
"No, you wouldn't," Angela reassured her as she stood back up to leave.
And once again, Sue was left on her own. Angela left the room and, putting
her dressing gown back on, returned to the staff room. There, along with the
others, she watched the CCTV screen as Sue, tentatively at first, dipped
her head in the first bowl and picked out a piece of bread. This she washed
down with a sip or two of water.


Mistaken Identity Chapter 10
============================================================================
"So, what's next?" Angela asked of the room in general.
Fiona picked up the script from the table.
"Well, she spends some time in the cage and then it the Countess's bed
time. Trixie comes with me to act as personal maid so tonight it's you and me
getting up close and personal. After that there's a whole bundle of options
depending on what signals she gives of and whether or not she spends the
night in the cage. Cast members, You and myself with Gill on standby in case we
need a representative from `Management'.  Who's manning the CCTV?"
"I'm on it," Ruth, their resident techie, a young woman wearing jeans and
a tee shirt answered.
"Fine. Nice job with the web site, by the way. Looked just like the real
thing would," Fiona said. "Are you sure you're OK with staying up all night?"
Ruth just grunted. They were well used to her taciturn ways but there was
no doubting her skill and they all trusted her implicitly. Without her, many
of the tricks that persuaded the customers that this converted warehouse was
an international slave trading centre simply wouldn't work. She also seemed
to have no concept of the normal working day. They were all used to unusual
hours but Ruth would often put in thirty-six hour shifts just to see if a
software upgrade would work.
For a while they all just relaxed but Fiona kept glancing at the CCTV,
watching Sue until she judged that the time was right.
"OK Angela, time to get back in role. I think the customer has had enough
on her own. It's time for the Countess and Trixie to go to bed. See you
tomorrow, guys," and, with that, Fiona got up from the table and, after waiting
for Angela to join her, made her way towards the suite. As when Angela had
gone to feed Sue, they stopped outside the door to get properly in role and
then, with Fiona, or rather the Countess, taking the lead, they went into the
suite.
At first they completely ignored Sue. Fiona, as the Countess, started to
disrobe and Angela, as Trixie, acted as her maid. From time to time Fiona
would glance at Sue out of the corner of her eye and was gratified to see that
she was watching closely. When the Countess was completely naked Trixie went
to the cupboard and fetched out a mid thigh satin shift and a matching gown.
Then the Countess sat down at the dressing table and proceeded to take off
her make up.
In fact this deliberate procrastination was driving Sue crazy, just as it
was supposed to do. Being ignored, being left alone, was building up her
levels of frustration beyond that which she could endure. She wanted to cry out,
to demand that, for better or for worse, this damn Countess should pay her
some attention.
"Thank you, my dear," the Countess said as, at last, she got up from the
dressing table. She walked towards the bed and, almost as if she had
forgotten, glanced down at Sue in her cage.
"I see you fed little Rosalita," she said to Trixie. "Has she been taken
to the bathroom as well?"
"No, Countess," Trixie replied. "Shall I do that now?"
"I think so. We don't want her soiling her bedding."
Trixie went to the door of the cage and unlocked it. Sue had to back out
and, with her wrists still locked behind her back, this involved a certain
amount of wiggling. As she came free Trixie slipped her fingers under Sue's
collar and used it to guide her over to where the Countess stood.
"The collar, it can go," the Countess ordered and Trixie undid the buckles
that held it and took it away.
"Stand," the Countess ordered and Sue struggled to her feet. "Let me look
at you, let me see what I paid so much to acquire." She reached for Sue's
breasts and removed the clips from her nipples. The sting as the blood
returned was too much for Sue and she couldn't stop a little cry from escaping.
"Oh, my poor little Rosalita," the Countess said. "Are your nipples sore?
But you looked so pretty with the bells hanging from them. I loved the way
you tinkled as you walked. Maybe we should get your nipples pierced and then
you could wear bells all the time. Would you like that?"
Sue, used by now to staying silent, didn't know whether the question was
rhetorical or not. More than that, she was sure that her honest reply, that
she could think of little worse, would simply get her into more trouble.
"What's up, girl? Has the cat got your tongue? When I ask a direct
question I expect an answer. Now, do you think I should get my slave's nipples
pierced?"
"I... I don't know," Sue replied.
"Did I not tell you it pleased me for you to wear them?"
"Yes..." Sue got the impression more was expected of her. "Yes, Mistress,"
 she essayed.
"I am not your Mistress, I'm your Countess and don't you forget it."
"I'm sorry, Countess." Sue felt that she was getting in more and more
trouble but didn't know what, if anything to do about it.
"You are new, you are young and you are more than a little scared so I will
forgive you, this time. Next time be sure that the crop or the cane will be
used to help you remember your manners. Do you understand? And while we're
at it, stand up straight and smile. I won't have my pets looking miserable."
"Yes, Countess." As Sue straightened up and pinned a smile on her face she
noted that the Countess was only concerned as to whether her `pets' looked
miserable, not whether or not they were miserable.
"That's better. Now I paid a great deal of money for you and I expect to
get value. Your job is to please me, to keep me happy, to be everything I
want. If I think that you look pretty with bells on your nipples then your sole
wish should be to please me by wearing them. Now then, I asked a question,
would you like to have your nipples pierced so you could wear bells all the
time?"
"Yes, Countess, that would be lovely, Countess," Sue replied as if she
were a little girl agreeing to ribbons in her hair.
"And how about down here?" The Countess reached between Sue's legs and
probed between her lower lips. "How about a bell down here as well."
"If it would please you, Countess, then it would be my pleasure to wear one
for you."
"That's better. Now you're learning." the Countess reached for Sue's
breasts and took her nipples, still sore and protruding, between her fingers and
thumbs. She pinched hard and jolts of pain throbbed through Sue's body. "
Don't you ever forget it," the Countess half whispered, half snarled. "If
you fail to please then you will be punished and, if that doesn't do the
trick, then there is always a place for you in Herr Otto's stables. Or maybe you
would prefer that?"
"No, Countess, of course not, Countess. I live to please you," Sue said
hurriedly. The Countess might be scary but the thought of that horrible Herr
Otto and being treated as some sort of racing pony, that was far, far worse.
"Very well. Now Trixie will take you to the bathroom and, after that, we'
ll talk some more."
Trixie took Sue by the elbow, led her to the luxuriously appointed
en-suite, took her over to the toilet and sat her down. Sue just looked up with a `
what now?' expression. Trixie put her hands on Sue's knees and crouched down
in front of her.
"I know you're scared. I was when I was first taken, but the Countess isn'
t a bad Mistress, well, as long as you keep her happy." Angela was following
the script, which had her in the `good cop' role. But, as well as the
script, she was genuinely concerned for the welfare of the client. She's seen
them deep in role before but this one was extraordinary. As such she was
spurred on to play her part with more sincerity and not to ham it up the way the
boys had done. This client, in her slave role, really needed a friendly face
and it was Angela's, or rather Trixie's, place to provide it.
"Who knows," Trixie continued, "if we don't upset her then maybe she'll
let us play together. Would you like that? I know I would."


Mistaken Identity Chapter 11
============================================================================
Sue looked at Trixie who, with her bubbly personality and happy go lucky
ways seemed to be quite content with this bizarre lifestyle. If nothing else
she'd found a friendly face and that calmed her down. She gave a weak smile
in response.
"Come along now, let's not keep her waiting," Trixie urged and, to
reinforce this, she gently pushed Sue's knees apart.
With a shock Sue realised just what was being demanded of her. In her
naïveté she had thought that she had been placed on the toilet simply as
somewhere for her to sit down. Now it was apparent that she was expected to actually
use it. The Countess's remarks about soiling her bedding came back to her
and she realised how innocent she had been. Blushing deeply, partially from
embarrassment at having to pee in front of someone else and partially in
having been so stupidly innocent she hung her head.
"I don't think I can," she muttered.
"Yes, you can. Now, come on or we'll both be in trouble," Trixie urged.
"I can't. Not with you watching."
"Give it a try, please, do it for me, will you?"
Somehow being asked to do it for Trixie was just what Sue needed to
overcome her shyness. And, when it came down to it, she did want to go. At first
she had to force her self but soon, what started as a trickle, soon became a
torrent. Again she looked at Trixie and, as their eyes met, she gave a little
giggle.
"There, that's better," Trixie said when Sue had finished. "Just let me
wipe and then I'll brush your teeth."
Trixie used a piece of toilet paper to give Sue a quick wipe before
flushing the toilet and rinsing off her hands. Then, once again, she took Sue by
the elbow and led her over to the basin. From a cabinet above she took out a
toothbrush, applied some toothpaste and, standing behind Sue, reached around
to brush her teeth. Sue watched in the mirror as Trixie used her other hand
to hold her tight. This touch of skin on skin, added to the way that
something as banal as brushing her teeth was being done for her, was weirdly
erotic. Once they had finished Trixie filled a glass with mineral water and held
it up so that Sue could rinse. This, somewhat to Sue's surprise, was followed
by two more glasses of water but, as it was cool and refreshing, Sue didn't
mind too much.
Then Sue had to wait while Trixie also used the toilet. She didn't seem in
the least bit fazed about doing her business in front of a stranger. Then
she too brushed her teeth so that the two of them were ready for bed. This
done they returned to the bedroom. The Countess was stretched out on the bed
and she looked up as the door opened.
"Oh, look at you both, my pretty little slaves, so sexy together! Oh,
Trixie, you'd make such a perfect partner for Rosalita I might just put in an
offer to buy you as well. Ship the pair of you back to Venezuela. What fun we
would all have together!"
"Ooh, yes, please, Countess", Trixie replied. Sue just bolted on a smile.
"But because I've been told in no uncertain terms that you're not for sale
I'm just going to have to make the best of what little time we do have
together. Come along, Trixie, your owner tells me you're one of the best. Get
undressed and show me just what that busy little tongue of yours can do for me.
"
Trixie took off her shoes, her wrist and ankle cuffs and her belt before
jumping enthusiastically onto the bed. and, settling between the Countess's
outstretched legs, she pushed up the hem of her shift. Then, starting with
delicate butterfly kisses, she caressed the sensitive skin on the inside of the
Countess's thighs with her lips.
"Watch carefully, my little Rosalita," the Countess ordered. "Soon it will
be your place to give me pleasure. It is a skill you will have to learn and
one I will make much use of. You will become an expert; I will make sure of
that, and, if Trixie is anywhere as good as I have been told, it would be
wise for you to emulate her. Come here, come closer, stand where I can reach
you."
Sue moved next to the bed and the Countess stretched out her arm and
reached between Sue's thighs. Sue had to fight the urge to step back as she felt
the Countess's finger probing her flesh, searching for her entrance and
slipping inside. This in itself was a bit of a shock for Sue. The ease with which
they had slid inside spoke of a level of arousal that Sue had been trying
to deny. Ever since her capture she had been on an emotional roller-coaster;
scared, confused, bewildered, pushed from pillar to post and deprived of the
most basic freedoms, she was having to use all her wits to keep herself
together. What she hadn't had the head space to consider was what this
penetration so vividly demonstrated, the fact that she was also turned on by it all.
That seemed wrong, so wrong but she couldn't really deny it.  Back in the
auction room she had succumbed so easily to Trixie's ministrations and now, a
combination of the Countess's fingers inside her and the sight of Trixie,
busy between the Countess's thighs, was disturbingly erotic. It wasn't just
that she didn't fight as the Countess used her finger as a hook to draw her
closer, part of her was actively encouraging it and, without being able to
stop herself, she pushed her hips forward so as to impale herself further.
The Countess noticed this, looked up at her and smiled, which only added to Sue
's mortification and confusion.
But she couldn't help staring at the sight before her. Sue considered
herself straight, and watching two women making love would not be her first
choice of eroticism. However, the Countess looked superb with her elegant body
framed by the satin nightwear and the sight of Trixie's tongue working its
magic made her own groin tingle at the memory of when it had been done to her.
Moreover, although the Countess's praise of Trixie's skill had been part of
the script, that didn't mean that it wasn't true. This was far from the
first time that Angela and Fiona had played together for the benefit of a
customer and they knew well what turned each other on. Their moves, although
choreographed, were based on a very real erotic understanding between them and
neither was entirely faking.
Indeed, Fiona was, in a very literal sense, losing the plot. She still had
the fingers of her right hand inside the client but any movement there was
purely automatic. While she endeavored to keep her emotional involvement with
Angela purely professional one couldn't deny her skills and, truth be told,
there had been a certain amount of maneuvering on Fiona's part to ensure
that this scene was part of the script. Reveling in playing the Countess, and
allowing her exhibitionist streak to come to the fore, Fiona was enjoying
every moment as she raced towards her climax. The moans of pleasure, the way
she arched her body, were not faked in the slightest. The only problem was
that Angela, who loved giving head as much as Fiona loved taking it, was
almost too damn good at her job. According to the script the Countess was
supposed to retain an icy detachment at all times and that simply wasn't possible
when every nerve in her body wanted to cry out in pure pleasure. As she
passed beyond rational she tried to remember not to call out Angela's name, or,
if she really had to, to make sure she called her Trixie. And then the last
vestiges of control just disappeared. She threw back her head. To hell with
professionalism; she had no choice but to go with the flow. A series of
strange animal cries came from her mouth as the climax crashed through her body.
For a while the only sound in the room was the gasping of the Countess as
she came back down to earth. Trixie still lay between her thighs although she
did look up, catch Sue's eye and give her a broad wink.
"Ooh, but you're good," the Countess said at last. "Now come up here and
lie next to me. You, girl," she turned to Sue, "go and fetch a damp flannel
from the en-suite."
With her hands fastened behind her it was quite a challenge simply to open
the en-suite door, let alone find a flannel, rinse it in warm water, squeeze
it out and return to the bedroom. When she returned the Countess was still
sprawled full length on the bed but now she had Trixie tucked up in the
crook of her arm. Sue went over to the bed and half turned so as to offer the
flannel to the Countess who took it from her and used it to wipe Trixie's
face. There was a tenderness about her actions that came from more than the
script and, from Sue's perspective, they looked more like lovers than Mistress
and slave, whatever than might mean.
"And would little Trixie like a reward?" the Countess asked.
"Oooh, yes please, Countess!"
"Well, it's only fair that, after you have satisfied me so well, that I
return the favor. Would you like that pretty little pussy of yours licked?"
"How could I possibly say no?" Trixie replied.
"Well, Rosalita, get on with it."


Mistaken Identity Chapter 12
============================================================================
There was a moment's pause as Sue digested exactly what the Countess had
just said. Apparently returning the favor, in her eyes, didn't mean that she
was actually going to do it. Indeed, it was hard to see someone as haughty
and arrogant as the Countess performing such an act on a slave so, in that
sense, what else had she expected?
And then there was a second pause. All three women knew that this was some
sort of Rubicon. So far Sue had had things done to her; now she was to do
them to other people.  For Fiona and Angela this was just the normal pause
before the client plunged further into the fantasy. For the Countess and Trixie
this was just an untrained slave hesitant to perform her new duties. For
Sue this was just another twist in the madness.
"Come along, Rosalita," the Countess said, as if to a child. "Don't make
me have to punish you."
For Sue it was as if, at this point, it got real. By obeying, by
acquiescing, she was giving in, she was accepting her new `slave' status. On the
other hand the Countess had shown how quick she was to anger and, as the shock
collar had shown, rebellion and disobedience could have painful consequences.
Was this really the time to make a stand? She looked at the Countess but
she couldn't hold the gaze and, trying not to let her reluctance show, she
went round to the foot of the bed, scrambled up onto it and, as well as she
could with her hands behind her back, squirmed and wriggled her way up between
Trixie's legs.
Of course she knew the basics; after all, one woman's anatomy is pretty
much the same as another's. Furthermore she had had it done to her, usually by
blokes who reckoned that a bit of licking pussy earned them a full blowjob
complete with swallow. More pertinently it wasn't that long since Sue had
been on the receiving end of Trixie's clever tongue and that memory was still
fresh. If she just did to Trixie what she liked being done to her she couldn'
t go too far wrong. Tentatively she kissed the shaven mount of Trixie's
mons, just brushing her lips against the skin, before adding a little tongue.
Slowly she grew bolder, her kisses became stronger, she roamed further and, as
she ran the tip of her tongue along the grove where the thigh meets the
torso she felt Trixie respond. This awoke a daemon within her, a daemon that
loved to tease, and she made the whole thing into a game. Keeping, for the
moment, away from her final destination, she set out to see what pleased Trixie
the most. For starters, If Trixie liked being kissed along that groove then
that's what she would do. She tried the same trick on the other side and
then explored a little deeper into the groin; she varied the intensity between
butterfly kisses and sensuous slides of her tongue and, using judging from
the way in which Trixie was responding as a guide, searched out the bits
that made her tingle the most.
But Sue knew that all this teasing was just a way of putting off the
inevitable. The lips of Trixie's sex were still there waiting for her; a door she
had to open, a passage she had to explore. It was time to move on, to bite
the bullet, to do as she had been ordered.
If Sue had been apprehensive before it was nothing to how she was feeling
now. As she used the tip of her tongue to trace out the contours of Trixie's
nether lips they seemed to open for her and, for the first time, she knew
the taste of another woman. To her surprise this wasn't as bad as she had
feared; on the contrary, now that she was actually doing it, there was something
wickedly delicious about the way that Trixie was responding to her tongue.
Moreover, even the taste which, a few short hours and another lifetime ago,
she would have thought abhorrent wasn't unpleasant at all and was further
proof that her teasing had borne fruit.
Although she was concentrating her whole attention on Trixie's sex that didn
't mean she had stopped her teasing game. She used her tongue to explore
every nook and cranny and, if she occasionally brushed against the inflamed
nubbin of Trixie's clitoris then she didn't stay there long. However, when
Trixie ordered her, from between clenched teeth, to get on with it, she knew
it was time to concentrate on the hub of her pleasure. As Sue concentrated on
pleasuring Trixie below the waist, so, further up the bed, Fiona was
playing with Trixie above the waist.  Partially they had to stay firmly in role.
If the client were to look up it was important that she saw a Mistress and
her slave sharing a passionate moment. But it wasn't just that. Whatever the
true emotional attachment between the two women, they found that the job was
simply easier if they pretended it was real. Fiona cupped Angela's breast
with her hand and used the tip of her fingers to play with the nipple.
"What a way to earn a living," Angela whispered rather breathlessly in
Fiona's ear.
"I gather she's doing OK then," Fiona whispered back.
"She's more than OK, she's good, she's very good, she's...."
Angela was starting to lose control so Fiona kissed her long and hard on
the mouth both to enhance the experience and to quell any unfortunate cries
that might want to escape.
As Trixie climaxed so Sue had to struggle to stay with her. Trixie arched
her back and lifted her hips as she came and, unable to use her hands to hold
on with, Sue had her work cut out keeping with her. Then, with an enormous
but somewhat stifled groan, Trixie had had enough and rolled sideways
effectively throwing Sue off. Panting slightly from the exertion, Sue knelt up and
watched as Trixie, still held by the Countess, reveled in her pleasure. Sue
felt a certain amount of pride in a job well done. There was no doubt that
Trixie had climaxed and that had been entirely down to her.
"Ooh, thank you, Countess," Trixie said as she cuddled into Fiona once she
had recovered somewhat. "Thank you for letting a slave come."
"You're more than welcome, sweetie," the Countess replied "Now I think it'
s time to put little Rosalita back in her cage and then we'll all settle
down to a good night's sleep."
Sue was devastated. Firstly there was the way that Trixie was expressing
all her thanks to the Countess. It was as if all her hard work, all the effort
she had put in to overcome her squeamishness, was as naught. Meanwhile,
what had the Countess done? Nothing! She had never felt so unappreciated.
Secondly there was the prospect of going back in the cage. She had hoped that her
hard work satisfying Trixie would bring some reward. She was physically and
emotionally exhausted and her shoulders ached from the way her wrists were
fastened behind her. The Countess's bed was so luxurious, so welcoming, she
would have given anything just to be allowed to lie down and stretch out.
Fiona was watching for, indeed expecting, such a reaction. Like all the
cast she had experienced most of what the client was going through, either
through other role play scenarios or because the boss insisted that those
playing `owners' should not put the `slaves' through anything they hadn't
experienced themselves. As such she knew that the psychological effects of the
cage were far more devastating than the physical effects and that `the Countess'
 was being inordinately cruel to order her back in. She watched the client
closely, looking for signs, half expecting the `slow' word but all she saw
was tears. Slow word or not, she realised that she had to tread carefully
here. She wasn't, by nature, a cruel person but she had to ensure that the
client was getting the experience she had paid for.
"Why so sad, Rosalita?" she asked, back in role as the Countess. "Surely
you understand that, until you are fully trained, some restraint will be
necessary."
"Please, Countess," Sue started but then realised she had broken the `no
speaking' rule.
"It's OK, little one, you may speak," the Countess replied.
"Please, Countess, please don't put me back in the cage," Sue begged, "
and please, my arms, my shoulders ache so."
"Are you telling me how I should look after my property?"
Sue was a little taken aback at being described as property but that was
all part of the bizarre world she was now living in. Remembering how she had
been berated earlier for not being happy she realised she would have to
choose her words with care.
"Please, Countess," she essayed, "I... err... your property wishes to
serve you joyfully, wishes to be everything you desire but it's hard, so hard
when my shoulders ache so. And the cage, Countess, it is so small...."
Fiona was seriously conflicted. She could hear all too clearly the pain in
the client's voice but still she hadn't heard either the `stop' or `go slow
' words. However, whatever the client's wishes, Fiona, along with all the
cast, had been well trained in the medical aspects of bondage and keeping
the client's wrists constrained would be risking injury. Some sort of
compromise was required but she still needed to stay in role as the Countess.
"Have a care, Rosalita, you are testing my patience with your complaining.
However, as you are new and as I am not completely heartless, I will free
your arms for tonight. Now then, get in the cage before I am forced to punish
you for disobedience. Trixie, help her in, will you?"
Sue was about to restate her case but the Countess's firm expression
dissuaded her and, reluctantly, she allowed herself to be guided off the bed and
down onto her knees so that she, once again, could shuffle into the cage. The
door was locked behind her and the Countess herself got off the bed and
opened a hatch in the roof of the cage similar to the one they had used when
she had been fed. This allowed her to reach through and undo the cuffs that
held Sue's wrists. As soon as this was done the hatch was closed again and the
Countess went round to the end of the cage where the feeding hatch was
still open. She sat on the floor looking in at Sue.
"I know it is hard, little Rosalita, but you have much to learn and the
quicker you learn it the better it will be. You were born to be a plaything
and, when you have fully learnt that, when your only wish is to do my will,
then you will share my bed. But, just as the untrained pony rejects the bridle,
so the untrained slave still yearns to be free. Until you are broken, until
you are truly mine, such restraints as these are sadly necessary. Now, give
me a good night kiss."
The Countess leaned forward towards the feeding hatch. Sue nearly rebelled
again. Comparing her to an untrained pony! How dare she! But she was tired
of fighting so she put her head out through the hatch and let herself be
kissed.
And then the feeding hatch was closed, the Countess and Trixie got into bed
and after a bit of snuggling turned the lights off. Sue tried to find a
position she could sleep in and, to be fair, the mattress on the floor of the
cage was soft and the room was suitably heated so that, as long as she didn't
want to stretch out, she was comfortable enough. At least her hands were
free and she could massage her aching shoulders. Feeling tired and defeated
all she could do was lie there and wonder what the morrow would bring. With a
sigh she curled up a little tighter and drifted off to sleep. In the
background she could hear Trixie and the Countess continuing to cuddle each other.
Was the spark of jealousy, the desire to switch places with Trixie, entirely
down to a need to stretch out or were there other cravings as well?


Mistaken Identity Chapter 13
============================================================================
Sue rolled over, as far as she could in the tight confines of the cage. A
pale glow came from the windows where dawn was slowly rising. Actually what
Sue was seeing were the carefully orchestrated lighting effects that resulted
from Ruth running the controlling computer through the `dawn' program.
Netted curtains and back projection worked together to reinforce the illusion
that this was a real suite of rooms and not just an elaborate set.
Sue had actually slept quite well. Apart from a need to pee and growing
thirst for coffee, she was feeling pretty good. From the bed there came a
susurration as the Countess and Trixie snored gently. Quietly Sue tested the bars
of the cage, looking for weaknesses, but they were solidly fixed and more
than proof against her efforts. The feeding hatch looked like it might be a
point of weakness but, when she checked, it was securely locked. However, she
didn't give up, but managed to roll over far enough to try the hatch in the
roof of the cage as well. That too was shut fast. She wasn't surprised;
right from the start her captors had shown a ruthless professionalism and had
never once shown any weakness.
She fought back the wave of depression, which threatened to overcome her.
Ruthless professionalism or not, Sue Brown was no fool and, when the time was
right, she would make her move. As the cage clearly showed, it would be
foolish to think that opportunities to escape would come easily or often. She
would have to bide her time and wait until the moment was right. This being
the case, for now she needed to develop a coping strategy. At the core of
this would be her relationship with the Countess and, in the end, it would all
be about trust. An untrusting Countess would be extra vigilant and
opportunities would therefore be scarcer. In order to get the Countess to drop her
guard, she would have to appear to be embracing this new lifestyle, to be
actually reveling in these humiliations and degradations. After all, Trixie, who
appeared to be just as much of a slave as she was, seemed to enjoy a
certain amount of freedom.
And there were other motivators in play as well. The Countess's threat that
failure to please would result in her being sold to another owner was
another reason to fall into line. Much as she didn't relish the thought of
becoming the Countess's sexual plaything, it would seem to be the best choice she
had had so far. She certainly didn't relish being some sort of human pony in
Herr Otto's racing stables, and acting as some kind or whore for Walter's
farm hands was equally unappealing. These were just the options she had
heard of; who knows what else other `owners' would have her be or do. In a
world where human beings were sold for cash, where she had become a commodity
rather than as person, there could be few limits. For the moment at least it
was a case of `better the devil you know'; after all, hadn't Trixie
described the Countess as a `good' owner?
Sue's need to pee was getting worse; she wished that Trixie hadn't forced
her to drink so deeply last night as now she was paying the price. To
alleviate the cramps she clamped her hands between her thighs. She wondered how
long she would have to hold out; the thought of failing to do so was
appalling. Not only was she averse to lying in a pool of her own urine, she didn't
want to face the Countess's wrath if she were to `spoil her bedding'. As she
fought back the urge to pee her wrist pushed against her and it was odd to
feel the shaven skin of her mons. She had often wondered what it would be
like to have a `full Brazilian'. Now she knew. And, truth be told, this was
one of many features of her new life, which played straight into her Rudolf
Valentino fantasies. To be sure, they had never featured a woman as her captor
and, in her dreams, she would have been the one sleeping in the bed, not
Trixie, but the loss of freedom, the `used and then thrown away' aspects,
even, whisper it quietly, the cage, were striking chords within her.
She heard rustling sounds coming from the bed. the Countess and Trixie were
waking up. There was a quiet muttering and then Trixie got out of bed and
headed for the en-suite. Apparently Sue wasn't the only one who needed to
pee.  When Trixie returned she went past the cage and, as she did so, she
glanced down and saw Sue, and, more pertinently, saw the way she had her hands
between her thighs. Sue, mindful of the rule of silence, mimed her urgency.
"Excuse me, Countess," Trixie called out, "I believe Rosalita also needs
the bathroom."
"Well, she'll have to wait. I don't want to have anything to do with her
until after breakfast," the Countess replied.
"I'm not sure she can," Trixie said and Sue nodded to reinforce this.
"Oh, for heaven's sake!" the Countess called out in exasperation. "Just
leave her.... No, on second thoughts she'll only wet herself and make the
room unpleasant. Give her a diaper, you know what to do."
Sue was a bit confused by the word `diaper'. Wasn't that the American word
for... and then she saw Trixie getting a square of white toweling from a
chest of drawers and her suspicions were confirmed. Diaper was, indeed, the
American word for nappy. Trixie laid the nappy out on the top of the chest of
drawers and folded it, exactly as if it were for a baby. However, before she
fitted it, she went to a drawer under the bed and fetched out two pieces of
wood. She then unfastened and removed the feeding hatch part of the cage
and, for a moment, there was a gap big enough for Sue to crawl through.
However, almost immediately, half the gap was filled with one of the pieces of
wood, which, as Sue could now clearly see, had three semi-circular dips along
the top. Her heart sank as Trixie gestured that she should place her neck in
the central dip and her hands in the other two. Remembering her resolve not
to fight until the time was right, Sue complied and, as she did so, she felt
the other piece of wood being fitted so she was trapped as if in the
stocks.
The holes for the wrists were quite generous and Sue would have had no
trouble removing her hands but Trixie fetched from the drawer under the bed a
set of thick rubber wrist cuffs with a chain linking them together and, once
these were fitted, Sue's hands were trapped.
With Sue now fixed to her satisfaction Trixie picked up the nappy, went to
the other end of the cage, opened the door, reached in and, after a certain
amount of fumbling, fitted the toweling around Sue. It was a tight and
awkward maneuver in the narrow confines of the cage but it wasn't long before Sue'
s nether regions were swaddled in the soft toweling with two oversized
safety pins holding the whole thing fast. The bulky material was bunched up
between her legs which forced her to kneel with her knees apart and the position
of the stocks mean that she had to kneel up. With the toweling fitted
Trixie went back to the chest of drawers and this time returned with a pair of
plastic panties which, except for the size, were exactly as would be fitted on
a baby. These were even more awkward to fit but it wasn't long before they
were in place and Trixie could withdraw. Sue could just imagine how
ridiculous she must look, how degrading, how demeaning, she must appear. She felt
like some sort of veal calf, confined and unable to move. That on its own was
bad enough but when you added in the nappy, her humiliation was complete.
And then, of course, there was the vexed question as to whether she was
going to allow herself to pee or not. The stubborn streak within her resisted,
not to mention her reluctance to spend any more time than strictly necessary
wearing a damp nappy. On the other hand, she really needed to go and
holding it back was agony. For the moment the stubborn streak was winning but the
clock was ticking and she wasn't sure how long she could hold out. In the
meanwhile, she wished she could cross her legs or, at least, clamp them
together but the nappy prevented this.
With Sue now secured, the Countess ordered Trixie to go and fetch
breakfast. Sue watched as Trixie headed for the door and wondered whether this
breakfast might include the coffee she so craved. However, she wasn't getting her
hopes up.
============================================================================

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