Gotcha

The return from the West Coast trip marked a turning point for Jen. Her relationship with Wendy had changed, and the change was permanent.

Firstly, on a professional level, the two women had built up a close working partnership. Jen was leaning to anticipate Wendy’s needs and was rapidly becoming her right hand, her indispensable aid. And it wasn’t just the work they had done together whilst they were out there; on their return there was plenty of paperwork to catch up on; not just that generated by the trip itself, but also things that had been left whilst they were away. As the two women toiled away in the office Wendy was increasingly asking Jen’s opinion and using her as a sounding board.

This change in status had also been noticed by the rest of the staff and suddenly Jen was in demand elsewhere. Her name had appeared ‘magically’ on several distribution lists and she was getting invited to more and more high level meetings. She was still seen very much as Wendy’s PA rather than any sort of partner but it was known that she had the ear of the boss and that moved her several rungs up the pecking order. It made her smile the way some people who wouldn’t have given her the time of day six months ago were now fawning all over her and claiming to be her oldest friend.

Far more significant, and, in some ways, far more dramatic, was the change in their relationship outside of the office. Sure, the main trappings were still there; Jen still had to remain naked whenever she was in the house, her every minute was still under Wendy’s direct control and she still had no personal freedom but she was spending far more time with Wendy and getting far more respect from her. One huge change was that they had started eating their evening meal together. At first this was because Wendy would bring work home and they would discuss details as they ate but, as things settled down, it became the norm. After the meal they would retire to the lounge and relax together. 

Whilst there were plenty of evenings when Wendy would play with Jen, teasing her, making her perform or simply using her for her own satisfaction more and more they would just unwind together, spending the evening in quiet companionship; Wendy full length on the sofa with Jen knelt by her side.

And this led to the biggest change of all. One evening they had been chilling out in the lounge. Wendy had told Jen to wear her tail and they were idly playing ‘fetch’ with a rubber ball; Jen was getting to know this game well, she had to act the eager puppy, to fetch the ball in her mouth and, on returning, to beg in front of her Mistress to be allowed another go. Her tail fitted easier nowadays but, as she scampered around the floor chasing the ball, it still felt very big inside her and this was very much part of the game. Was it this, or a desire to please Wendy or something else entirely which was making her relish this game, to find that it turned her on; Wendy certainly seemed to enjoy it. Jen was knelt beside the sofa, the ball in her mouth and her ‘paws’ crossed in front of her in the classic begging  pose when Wendy looked down at her with a strange look in her eyes.

“Come with me little piglet puppy; I have a treat for you tonight.” Wendy stood up and walked towards the door. Jen scampered after her, still on all fours, still with the ball in her mouth. A short walk took them upstairs to what was obviously Wendy’s bedroom which, large as it was, was dominated by an enormous bed with the sheets turned back ready for use. Jen glanced around looking for the dog basket but there was none.

“Go and get yourself ready.” Wendy indicated a door which led to an en-suite. “And be quick about it. I don’t want to be kept waiting.”

As Jen went to the en-suite Wendy crossed the room to another door. It said much about the luxury of the mansion that it had his and hers en-suites, or should that be her and hers? Jen was only slightly surprised to find a toothbrush and toothpaste like the brand she used already waiting for her along with all the other requisites; the en-suite had been prepared for her and this was not an unexpected visit. She did her ablutions as quickly as possible all the while debating whether to remove the tail. In the end she plumped for leaving it in. When she had finished she returned to the bedroom only to find it empty. She certainly wasn’t getting in to the bed without permission so she knelt beside it and waited.

It was only a few minutes later that Wendy returned, still managing to look imperious even though she was now naked. She slipped into the bed and patted the space beside her.

“Come here, puppy. Come and show your Mistress how much you love her, show me how you worship me.” Wendy purred.

Jen got into the bed beside her, keen to show what she could do. Aware that this was a first, that another barrier between them was in the process of falling Jen was anxious to ensure that she did not let Wendy down, that Wendy’s trust in taking her to her bedroom, letting her in to her inner sanctum would be repaid by her faithful servant. But Jen wasn’t just aware of a change in the Mistress/servant relationship, this was a major change in the relationship between the two women; a step on the road that was taking her from plaything to lover, a process that she so desired that she threw herself heart and soul into her role and when, some time later, a fully satisfied Wendy lay beside her she felt the satisfaction not just of a job well done but also that which comes from having done something to please your lover.

“Well, little piglet, you have done well. Is it your turn to come now?” Wendy asked, teasingly as she rolled over towards Jen and her hand slipped between her thighs.

“I wouldn’t presume, Mistress.” Jen replied.

“You wouldn’t presume.” Wendy echoed. “What an obedient little piglet you’ve become. When I think of the angry little rebel you were just a few weeks ago; she would have presumed wouldn’t she?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Jen admitted. She was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate. She had already been turned on and Wendy’s busy fingers were working their magic.

“And are you grateful that I took you in hand? Are you grateful that I started training you? You were such a naughty little piglet; are you grateful that I’m taking care of you?

“Yes, Mistress, I am.” Jen whispered.

“And do you love your Mistress?” Wendy’s fingers were working away feverishly.

“Yes, yes, I love you, Mistress.” Jen admitted.

“Of course you do.” Wendy replied and kissed Jen long, hard and passionately as she climaxed, the admission of love tipping her over the edge.

In the small hours of the night Jen rolled over, needing the toilet. She had no idea what time it was but the first hint of dawn was apparent through the uncurtained windows and the room was bathed in a pale light. She slipped out of bed and went to the en-suite, keeping as quiet as possible. On her return she couldn’t help but go over to the windows, looking out over the extensive grounds just visible in the early morning light. She was still surprised not to have been dismissed when Wendy had finished with her, to have been allowed to share Wendy’s bed. It was strange not having to sleep in her room, her tiny cell deep in the cellars; how much better was this, being able to look out, to have wide vistas, to have room to stretch. However, it was too good to risk and she slipped back into bed before Wendy woke.

From that point on it became the norm for Jen to sleep with Wendy.  Admittedly it was not long before a dog basket appeared and, from time to time, Jen was relegated to sleeping there but that was still a massive advance on before. Jen, now an expert on anticipating Wendy’s moods would often head for the basket without being told and this would do much to mitigate the circumstances, not that it made that much difference to how hard Wendy would apply the paddle when the time came, if anything their new relationship meant that Jen was getting more punishment, not less.

It was a Sunday morning and Wendy sent Jen to have her shower whilst she remained in bed finishing off her breakfast. On her return Jen was told to stand next to the bed with her feet apart and her hands clasped behind her back. Wendy reached for the rings embedded in Jen’s labia and gave them her usual thorough inspection. This time, however, she was far more robust, tugging and turning them, stretching the skin, testing the punctures. Evidentially she was satisfied with the results.

“Well, piglet, it’s been a long wait but it looks like you’re ready. All nicely healed. I’ve got a special treat for you. There’s a jewellery box on the dressing table. Fetch it here will you.” Wendy pointed out the box and Jen went to get it.

Inside the box was a silver padlock, maybe two centimetres tall. Although it was mainly decorative it was obviously well made and completely functional. Wendy lifted it out of the box and showed it to Jen.

“Do you know where this is going?” She asked.

“I think so, Mistress. Jen replied.

“Do you know why?” Wendy went on.

Jen had already thought this one out. The piercings were too high to make the padlock anything other than decorative; even locked together she would still be available and, on a more practical note, able to use the toilet without being unlocked. The padlock's role was was going to be far more symbolic; it’s positioning would mean that it was as visible as possible and, moreover, it was going to restrict access to her clitoris. Here was a symbol that her ownership was sexual, that, whilst Wendy owned all of her, this ownership was centred on her genitals, that her ability to give and receive pleasure was restricted, under lock and key, under the control of her Mistress.

Wendy removed the two sleeper rings and carefully eased the loop of the padlock through the holes, first one side, then the other, until, with a feint ‘click’ she pushed it closed and took her hand away.

“There, walk around a bit, see how it feels.” Wendy ordered. Jen took a few tentative steps and then walked briskly up and down the room before returning to the side of the bed. It was a strange sensation, the weight meant that she wasn’t going to forget it’s presence in a hurry and, as she walked, it moved about, both the loop inside her and the body of the padlock outside her, moving against her most sensitive flesh. However, it was not unpleasant nor was it going to be difficult to wear.

“Thank you, Mistress.” She said. “It is an honour to wear it.”

“It is indeed, so don’t you forget it. Now come along, it’s a beautiful morning and I fancy a jog. Let’s do two laps of the grounds. Hang on whilst I get dressed.” Wendy got up, put on her jogging gear and the two women headed out to the garden. A jogging track had been laid out around the edge of the grounds but still affording privacy and the two women set of at a brisk pace. The jiggling about as they ran was certainly testing to the limit Jen’s ability to wear the padlock and she wondered vaguely whether this was coincidental or whether Wendy had planned it this way. Whichever, as the padlock swung back and forth, tugging at her lips, she knew she’d have to live with it, to enjoy rather than endure the sensations.

All this left Jen totally unprepared for what happened next. It was a Thursday and Jen noticed that Sally was strangely quiet when she picked Wendy and Jen up from the office. However Jen thought nothing of it until, when they returned to the mansion, Wendy departed leaving Jen standing at the front door. Juanita seemed to be making extra fuss as she helped Jen undress.

“Come Chiquita,” Juanita said as she led Jen away. “You eat with us tonight. Leave the Mistress go. She’s busy.”

“What's up? Why aren't I eating with the Mistress?” Jen asked.

“The Mistress, she has a... a friend tonight. You stay with us downstairs; it will be like old times. Come.” Juanita was brisk, businesslike.

When they got to the kitchen they found Sally delving around in the fridge looking for a can of coke.

“Hi there, piglet.” Sally said looking up. “Got bored of the high life, have you? Come back to eat with us peons?”

“Sally! You know it’s not like that. I go where I’m told.” Jen protested.

“Yeah, I know, just joshing with you. Here, have a coke.” Sally passed Jen one of the ice cold cans.

“Thanks. I gather that Mistress has guests, that’s why I’m banished.”

“Guests! That’s one way of putting it.” Sally snorted with derision.

“Why, what’s up?” Jen asked genuinely confused.

“Look.” Sally continued. “From time to time the Mistress likes a bit of rough, nothing fancy and it’s just for one night. Earlier today I drove Fran down to town where... Well, you’ll find out soon enough.”

At that point a bell sounded and Juanita bustled away only to return a few moments later.

“The Mistress, she call for you. Come now, come quick. She say you must wear you tail and the white heels.” Juanita held in her hands Jen’s tail and a pair of white strappy sandals with three inch heels. She helped Jen on with the shoes and fitted the tail before leading her back to the lounge. She knocked briefly on the door and hustled Jen inside.

“Ah, here she is.” Wendy said, looking up. “Sharon, this is my little slave, piglet. If there’s anything you want her to do, just anything, all you have to do is ask. Isn’t that right, piglet?”

“It is my honour to serve you, Mistress” Jen replied.

“Yes, and now it is your honour to serve Sharon as well.”

For a moment or two Jen and Sharon stared at each other. Sharon was sat at Wendy’s feet, in what Jen considered to be her place. She wore a white PVC mini skirt and a sequined boob tube and patent leather boots. Jen reckoned sourly that the whole outfit looked like they came from one of the cheaper outlets, TK Maxx or Primark, and you could probably buy the lot for a twenty quid and still have change. Sharon’s hair was bottle blonde, her roots already showing, her shoulder was heavily tattooed and her complexion showed years of bad diet and abuse. Jen liked to think of herself as not being a snob but this woman, this girl, this nothing, had slag written right through her like Blackpool rock.

“What are you staring at?” Sharon sneered.

“I’m sorry, Miss.” Jen replied dropping her head. It was hard kowtowing to this hussy but Jen knew that she had to.

“So you flamin’ should be. What’s that in your fanny flaps? Come here, give us a look.” Jen went over and Sharon reached up, grabbing the padlock. Then she turned Jen around and examined the tail, seeing how it fitted, tugging it gently, testing how tightly it was held.

“Gor, you’re really serious, aren’t you?” Sharon said to Wendy. “That padlock’s for real, innit?. Who has the key?”

“I do.” Wendy replied. “It helps remind piglet who she belongs to.”

“And she’ll do anything I tell her to? Anything at all?” Sharon was still a little incredulous.

“Oh yes, why don’t you try her out?” Wendy replied.

Sharon picked up the alcopop bottle she had been drinking from, drained the inch or so that remained and passed the empty bottle to Jen.

“Here, stick this up your cunt, let's see you give yourself a good shagging.” She demanded.

Jen glanced at Wendy but already knew that there was no help coming from that quarter. Bending her knees slightly she rubbed the top of the bottle against her but she was too dry to make things easy; she had to reach down and open herself up with her other hand before she could make any progress at all.

“Look at her.” Sharon jeered. “Bottle half way up her cunt and that tail thing up her arse. What does she look like? Come on, you can get it further in than that.”

Jen had had to put up with a lot since she had become Wendy’s plaything but it had never been like this. Wendy had never been so course, so crude and Jen had never despised Wendy the way she was fast despising Sharon. She was still trying to insert the bottle when she was saved by Juanita arriving to announce that dinner was served.

During the meal Jen had to act as waitress. She was hindered by the heels she was wearing but much more by Sharon’s fascination with the padlock. Every time she came close Sharon would reach out and grab it, twisting it to the point of pain and, on one occasion this caused her to spill the gravy; Jen just knew that Wendy would suggest that this would require her to be punished and that Sharon should apply the punishment. It didn’t help that Sharon was still knocking back the alcopops and was getting thoroughly drunk.

After supper the two women returned to the lounge with Jen trailing behind. No sooner had they sat down than Wendy reminded Sharon that she there was the matter of Jen’s punishment outstanding and directed her to the bottom draw of a sideboard where she could find assorted ‘toys’. Sharon opened the draw and rummaged around.

“Gor, you’ve got it all here.” She exclaimed taking out a cane and flexing it. “Wow, what’s this?”

Sharon pulled out a penis gag and, after a bit of twisting and turning, worked out what if was for.

“This will shut her up, having a massive dick like this shoved in her gob. Come ‘ere, slave.”

Jen went over and Sharon fitted the gag. It would have been bad enough had Wendy fitted it but a drunk and clumsy Sharon just made things so much worse. Then Sharon grabbed the cane, marched Jen to the middle of the room and bent her over a pouffe.

“What do you reckon, twelve enough?” She asked Wendy

“Whatever you think, my dear.” Wendy replied. “She spilt the gravy over you, it's only fair that you choose her punishment.”

Sharon slashed at Jen’s backside with the cane. She was too drunk to do any real damage and the strokes fell haphazardly ranging from Jen’s buttocks to her knees but, even so, the cane was agony and it took all Jen’s self control to lie there and take it. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Wendy watching her with a pleased look. Was it her muffled cries, her tear streaked face, or the sight of this tart, this slag, slashing away that amused her so? Whichever, for Jen the indignity of her treatment was far worse than the cane; why, oh why was Wendy treating her like this?

Once the twelve strokes were over she was left, lying on the pouffe as Sharon staggered back to rejoin Wendy on the sofa. Wendy gave Sharon a hug before reaching for the remote and switching on the TV.

“I’ve just been sent this. It’s a DVD of a party I went to. Have a look, it might amuse.” She commented.

Jen watched from her position prone on the pouffe. The DVD showed the party she and Wendy had attended in LA. She recognised one or two of the guests and, of course, there she was, naked except for the hood. Indeed the DVD featured quite a bit of Wendy and Jen, it had obviously been made specifically for Wendy's benefit. This was especially true of the bit where Jen had been taken up onto the stage for punishment but it wasn’t until a close-up showed the rings piercing Jen’s labia that the penny dropped with Sharon.

“That’s her, innit? There, in the hood, that’s piglet.” Sharon squealed in delight. “Gor, look at that.”

They had got to the bit where Jen was rubbing herself against the dildo. At the time it had seemed unreal and she had been so in the moment that she hadn’t thought for one moment about how it might look to others. Now she was seeing, and indeed hearing as Sharon gave a running commentary.

“Look, look!” She pointed at the screen in her excitement. “She’s loving it, the randy little cow, look at her rubbing herself against that prick, she’s so horny she’ll do anything, what a little slut, I bet she wishes it was inside her… Ooh, there it goes.”

Jen watched in horror at the image of herself humping away at the dildo attached to its post. At the time, well, she hadn’t been thinking, and she’d been amongst a lot of like minded people. Sharon, however, was somehow managing to reduce it to something shameful, something disgusting, as though she were an animal in heat unable to control her own desires. Sharon, with her vulgarity, her uncouth attitude and her basic rudeness had ended up making Jen feel dirty. Her face burned with embarrassment and her heart burned with hate.

Once the DVD had finished Sharon and Wendy sat on the sofa kissing. Jen couldn’t help but watch; she knew it would be easier if she looked away but somehow she couldn’t. The pain of having to watch her Mistress, her Wendy, kissing this slut, this tramp, this piece of dirt, this nothing… Wendy had rolled down Sharon’s boob tube and was kissing her breasts. Sharon was loving every minute of it, she looked like the cat that had swallowed the cream; she glanced down at Jen, making sure that she knew exactly what was going on, and, as their eyes locked, she gave her a wink. Jen’s scream of rage was stifled by her desire not to upset Wendy and by the penis gag still forced down her throat and Wendy completely ignored it.

It seemed ages before Wendy sat up and pushed the buzzer that called Juanita. She and Sharon got up unsteadily from the sofa.

“Ah, Juanita.” Wendy said once she had arrived. “We’ve off to bed. Deal with piglet, will you.”

Without further word Wendy and Sharon staggered off towards the bedroom, both pretty tipsy from all the drinking. Juanita reached down and took Jen by the hand, helping her up, and removing the gag.

“Are you OK, Conchita?” She asked.

This kindness was somehow the final straw and Jen collapsed in tears on Juanita's shoulder before being led her away, back downstairs, back to her room, her cell, her loneliness.