Date: Fri, 24 Aug 2001 05:33:33 -0700 (PDT)
From: Selena Anders <selenaanders@yahoo.com>
Subject: Black Tower

I'm never going home again.  Never!   But I was cold
and hungry.  I must have lost twenty pounds since I
left home.  At around ten at night, I was sitting on
the curb in the rain, crying, with my squeegy in my
hand and my bucket kicked over; when a woman in tall
heels came and stood over me.

"Listen sweetie, why don't you come and sit in my
office?  You can have some coffee, and a donut if you
want."

I looked up.  This woman was dressed totally
establishment, in a grey business suit and silver
shirt.  She was holding a big black umbrella over us.
I wouldn't have gone with her, except that she had
promised a donut.  So I grabbed my stuff and followed
her into this big steel and glass office tower,
shivering as she punched the elevator button for the
54th floor.  The carpet was thick and soft in the big
reception area of Sapphco, whatever that was.  The
lady obviously worked there, and I followed her down a
short hallway to a huge office with lots of modern
furniture.  There was only one lamp on, next to a big
couch.

I sat on the couch, and she disappeared.   A few
minutes later she was back, accompanied by a pretty
blonde girl with a tray, and a big fluffy white towel
over her arm.  "I'm sorry, the donuts are from this
afternoon's break, but the coffee's fresh."  I didn't
care.  The coffee was hot and the donuts were filling,
and they tasted fresh enough to me.  Besides, I was
too busy staring at the blonde girl, who wore only the
ultra-sheer top of a baby-doll pyjama, garter-belt and
stockings.  The outfit concealed nothing, and it was
very obvious that she kept her pussy shaved.  She set
the tray aside and knelt at my feet, waiting
patiently.

"Now let's get these soaking clothes off you, and get
you dried out."  The woman continued, "Shelly, help
her out of her clothes."

"Yes, Mistress."  The girl named Shelly replied, and
then she started to undress me!  I still had coffee in
my hand, so she started at my feet.  In no time she
had my boots and old socks off, and reached for the
zipper of my jeans.  I was too stunned to stop her,
and besides, that big towel looked awfully inviting.
So she pulled down my jeans and panties, and helped me
step out of them.  Shelly stood up, "Excuse me Milady,
could I take your coffee for a moment while I finish
helping you out of your clothes?"

I handed her the cup, which she carefully placed on
the tray before unzipping my saturated thin jacket,
and unbuttoned my shirt.  As she gently pulled them
off my shoulders I just had to ask, "Shelly, why did
you call this lady Mistress, and why did you call me
Milady?"

My hostess in the grey suit had taken her seat behind
a large desk, and was watching us with a small smile.
Shelly answered me in a cheery voice that seemed to
warm up the whole room, "Because she is my Mistress
and my job is to please her.  I am helping you remove
your clothing, and I will dry you because she asked me
to, so I know it will please her.  I hope it will
please you too.  I called you Milady because you are
my Mistress' guest, and I don't know your name."

I don't wear a bra, since my A-cup tits don't need
one, so as soon as my shirt was off, Shelly picked up
the towel and started to wipe my back with it.  "Mmm,
you have a very nice touch, Shelly." I told her.

"Thank you Milady, it is part of my job."

"And what job is that?"  I asked, afraid of the
answer.

She giggled, "I like to think of myself as a PPP."

"What's that?"

Shelly giggled again, but never did she waver in the
perfect amount of pressure she applied with the towel.
 "A Professional Pleasure Provider."

My hostess in the grey suit rose and addressed me, "I
will be going out now.  I'll just take these things to
the valet service."  She quickly emptied the pockets
of my jeans and jacket, leaving my stuff on a table.
"I leave you in Shelly's capable hands.  Whatever you
desire, she will endeavour to provide.  Good night!"
Then she walked out.

Shelly finished drying me.  Was it my imagination, or
did she pay special attention to my breasts and upper
thighs?   "What would be Milady's pleasure be next?
Would you like a blanket, and perhaps I could fix your
hair?"  That sounded wonderful, so Shelly went to an
office cabinet and produced a large cashmere blanket,
and a hairbrush.  She wrapped the soft blanket around
me as I sat on a straight-backed chair, then stood
behind me and began to brush out my damp tangled mop.
Her movements with the brush were steady and smooth,
never once pulling at a knot.  The way her other hand
caressed my hair and my head was sensuous and
relaxing.  I let my head fall back, and it came to
rest against Shelly's breasts.

Unable to continue with my hair, Shelly laid the brush
aside and began to slowly massage my scalp.  "Mmm,
that feels wonderful."  I told her.  "Are you like, a
slave or something?"

"Oh no!" she giggled again, "A slave can be sold,
which I can't.  And a slave cannot leave her Mistress,
which I could if I wanted to, but I never would.  I
serve my Mistress not because I am forced to, but
because I love it.  Sometimes she even asks me to take
care of a pretty lady like yourself, because she is
kind and generous."

Shelly's hands moved down to my neck and shoulders.
"Oh, where did you learn to do a massage like that?"
The question was meant to be rhetorical, and a
compliment, but she answered anyway.

"My mistress sent me to the Edith Svenson School in
Stockholm.  If she wants any little service, she gets
me the best teachers in how to do it."  She giggled
again, "But she refuses to let me learn to type!"

I yawned.  I hadn't realized that I was getting tired,
but Shelly's hands were so relaxing.

"Oh dear!"  Shelley said, "Should I take you to bed?"

I don't know why the suggestion didn't strike me as
outrageous.  Instead of protesting, all I could think
of was to ask, "Where?"

"Saphco's penthouse apartment, one floor up!"

So we walked together back down the hall to the
elevators, she in her see-through nightie and me in my
blanket.  We took another, smaller elevator up.  If
the office had been plush, the penthouse was breath
taking.
"Who lives here?"  I asked, "Your Mistress?"

Shelly giggled again.  She giggled so much that it
would be easy to dismiss her as a dumb blonde, but I
got the feeling she was just naturally happy.
"Nobody!  It's for out-of-town executives and other
special guests such as yourself, Milady."   She led me
into a bedroom that belonged in an expensive hotel,
and turned down the covers on the King sized bed.
"Would you like a bath, or just straight to bed?"

"How 'bout a shower in the morning?"  I mumbled, as I
dropped the blanket and let myself fall face-first
into the inviting pillows.

"Would you like a back-rub?"

"Oh yes, please!"

Shelly opened a drawer in a bedside table, and found a
bottle of massage oil.  Of course.  Obviously she was
some kind of Genie, and whatever she wants is always
in the nearest drawer.  Certainly her fingers were
magic as they began to soothe my back.  As her hands
worked on my tired muscles, she began to tell me about
herself, and about her work.

Saphco is just a big investment brokerage, but it is
run entirely by women, only lends to women, and only
finances businesses that are owned by women.  Shelly
had started out seven years ago, when she was only
sixteen.  Back then she was a kind of Girl Friday,
making coffee and photocopies.  But she and a few
others in her position started to find themselves
doing little services like shoulder and back-rubs for
the senior managers, then less senior staff.  Some of
these massages became openly sexual, and eventually a
new category of employee was created at Saphco, to
provide pleasurable favours, including sexual ones to
the other staff.

Shelly's talk of sex, along with the sensual pleasure
of her hands on my body, was definitely turning me on.
 Her hands had moved down to my butt, and I spread my
legs for her to be able to massage my thighs.  As her
skilled hands slid between my upper thighs, I moaned,
"Oh yes, Shelly!  Make love to me!  Make me feel so
good!"

This time her giggle was deeper in tone, a wicked
chuckle as she assured me that she intended to do just
that.

"Do you know what my Mistress likes?"  Shelly asked
me.  "She likes me to dribble a big squirt of this
massage oil so it runs down her ass."  And suddenly I
felt a warm flood of the oil at the top of my ass, and
it began to run down my crack toward my anus.

"Yes!" I tell her, "Do with me whatever your mistress
likes!"

"Yes I will."  Shelley whispered, as her oily finger
slipped smoothly into my lubricated ass hole.  Moments
later, two fingers slid into my cunt, and she began to
slowly and sensuously manipulate both of my holes at
once.  This felt absolutely delicious, and I began to
raise my hips to meet her questing digits.  Somehow
she managed to avoid touching my clitoris as she
continued to pleasure me.  Slowly I raised my ass
until I was on my knees, with my thighs spread to give
Shelley easy access to my sex.  Still, she kept on
moving her fingers inside me.  She wasn't so much
finger-fucking me, as gently applying her marvelous
massage skill to the inside of my anus and vagina.
The build-up to my orgasm was exquisitely, agonizingly
slow, but when it finally arrived a tidal wave of
ecstasy crashed over me, leaving me cast up on the bed
like a quivering jellyfish, unable to move.

As I drifted off to sleep, Shelly softly drew the
sheet up over me and whispered in my ear, "I must
return to my Mistress, but I'll be back in the
morning."