Procured

Married fifteen years, and feeling it. I didn't suppose it was unusual, but why should I be like all the rest, and settle for life of boring respectability? My urges told me otherwise – with horrible frequency. Problem was, I didn't think they were shared.

Then, right out of the blue, I came across my still-attractive 38 year-old wife, Sandra, reading a little black paperback called 'The Image.'

Intrigued, I said, 'After you,' and she instantly coloured up, like a kid caught doing something naughty.

I made a dive for the book and snatched it. She grabbed it back and gave me a mouthful.

'OK, OK,' I said, 'so it's girlie stuff. I won't press the point.'

Later, she came and handed me the book, shamefaced. She said not a word, but just walked away.

I couldn't believe it. Although I must confess I'd never heard of the work before, it turns out it was an erotic French classic, about a couple who take under their wing a young girl, whom they treat as a sex-slave, dressing her as they wish, administering her terrible whippings and sexual humiliation. By the time I had read three chapters I had a tremendous erection, which I had to relieve before I was halfway through the book. True, it went right over the top in the later stages, but had to be regarded as a work of pure fantasy. What fascinated me was that my wife had obviously been captivated by it.

I resolved to discuss it with her.

The opportunity didn't occur until that night in bed, when we talked late into the night, first of all obliquely, then more directly, about 'The Image.'

Our discussion revolved, finally, around whether it would be practicable to do something like that described in the book, even on a limited scale. I didn't know, my wife thought definitely not. But I could tell she was excited by the idea, and we made love that night as we hadn't for years, with a fervour that had really been missing.

I wouldn't let the idea go. If a pretty young girl got on the bus, on the way to work, I saw her in handcuffs, being belaboured with my riding crop, and begging for more. In the office, a flighty secretary's short skirt had me dreaming of chaining her to the wall, so that I had to pinch myself to bring myself back to reality.

But it was all starting to fade a bit I suppose, as spring turned into summer, and my wife and I had fallen back into our comfortable existence when she walked into our lives. Just like that.

I was cleaning the car, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked around and stood there was a slim girl of about twenty, dressed in a denim jacket and jeans, and a Snoopy tee-shirt, carrying a duffel-bag. Her mousy hair was gathered in a pony-tail, with several strands escaping around her unmade-up face.

'Hi,' said the girl, 'I'm looking for lodgings.' She had a trace of an accent. Eastern European?

We were rattling around in a biggish house, my wife and I, having long since given up the idea of having children, but had never thought for one moment of taking in a lodger.

I won't say I didn't have ulterior motives in the back of my mind – I should be lying, but I never even consulted Sandra, I just nodded and said, 'We'll give it a try, eh? If you don't get on our nerves after a week or two, you've got yourself a deal.'

I don't think we even agreed a price.

I showed Katia to our spare room, and established that she was, in fact, Romanian, and a student, whatever that meant, and left her to make herself at home. When Sandra came home from shopping, I broke the news to her. She went mad, and was all for storming up to the room and throwing the girl out on her ear.

I restrained her, and she eventually calmed down. 'After all, we could do with a bit of extra cash,' I said, and she saw the sense of that.

A little while later, she went up to meet Katia, and said she'd prefer to do so alone. When she came back down, she was smiling. 'It'll be fine,' she said, 'she's having dinner with us tonight.'

At eight, I was opening the wine, when Katia appeared. I was stunned. The slightly scruffy student was transformed. There stood a beautiful young woman. She was dressed in a pleated miniskirt which showed off magnificent long bare legs, and a skimpy tank-top which only just covered a pair of small but pert breasts. Her hair was brushed out neatly and fell down her back almost to her waist. She had applied a little make-up, including artful eye-shadow and pale lipstick, which gave her a totally new look, innocent-little-girl, but with a 'knowing' sort of slant. Sandra came in with the dinner. She had made an effort – it's amazing what an extra woman in the house can do - and wore a white silk blouse and tight skirt.

The dinnertime conversation was stilted somewhat by Katia's strangeness in our company, and also, probably, by her lack of perfect English. I questioned her on where she came from, and she talked openly about her village and family, but when I started to ask her what she was studying, she became evasive, and I soon saw tears welling up in her eyes. Soon afterwards, she made an excuse, and went hurriedly to her room. Sandra followed her without a word to me. They were up there for almost two hours. I know, because I watched the whole of a football match on the television before Sandra returned. When she did so, she sat down on the sofa beside me and put a hand on my thigh, something she never did, then let it creep up to my zipper.

I kissed her as she fumbled with my underpants, releasing my growing erection. Then I felt for her tits beneath the silk blouse to find to my surprise that she wasn't wearing a bra. This was an entirely new departure for Sandra, and one which turned me on irresistibly. She took my by now massive stalk between her red lips and ran them gently up and down, up and down, then harder and deeper, taking me to the back of her throat, until I could bear it no longer, and I came with a great, convulsive jerk as she sucked every drop out of me.

'What brought that on?' I asked.

'Just.......things,' she said, mysteriously, but I knew that the arrival of Katia in our house had had some kind of effect on Sandra. I was to find out a whole lot more.

Next day I went off to work early and had no contact with my wife until I arrived home in the evening.

I had changed into casual garb – chinos and a polo shirt - and was listening to music, when Sandra walked into the room wearing a knee-length black dress and black heels.

Her blonde hair was swept up in a new style, lending her an unaccustomed sophistication.

'Hello, Mark, darling,' she said, 'You know I have talked to Katia at length? And you remember our conversation about three months ago – after we read that book? Well Katia wants to take on that role.'

I started to speak, ask about money, that sort of thing, but Sandra quickly hushed me, 'It's all arranged, darling. I love you, you know that. We have everything we need, and now we have Katia – don't ask any more questions.'

She went out then, and came back shortly, with Katia holding her by the hand. She was wearing the same clothes as the previous night, miniskirt and tank-top. Her nipples were clearly visible through the thin material of the top.

'Kiss Mark, dear,' she said to the girl, and Katia came over, threw her arms around my neck and kissed me, her gorgeous full lips open, her little tongue probing around the roof of my mouth, her whole lithe body pressed hard up against mine. I felt an instant hard-on grow unbidden, and kneaded her round young buttocks with both hands.

But Sandra was suggesting dinner, so we all sat down and ate the pizzas Sandra had prepared, conversation at a minimum.

When we had finished, Sandra said to Katia, 'Stand up, girl.'

Katia complied, standing beside the table, looking embarrassed as we looked her up and down.

'Undress,' ordered Sandra, and the youngster looked on the point of protesting, until she saw that Sandra's expression was too stern to admit any procrastination. She unfastened the waistband of her skirt, and it fell to the floor, the she hesitantly pulled the tank-top over her head, revealing pointed young breasts, with protuberant aureola and prominent nipples. She was left wearing a pair of white cotton panties.

'Those too,' said Sandra, and she hooked her thumbs under them and pulled them down revealing her luxuriant bush of pubic hair.

Knowing my role, I ran my hand through her slit, letting two fingers linger at the entrance to her cunt, and then tracing it to her tiny arsehole, where I drew a gasp from her when I pushed a finger just a little way into the puckered entrance.

Meanwhile Sandra was ruffling her bush, and said, 'This must go.' This very decisively, and from my wife, who had never deigned to shave her pubes in fifteen years of marriage, despite several requests from me.

Leaving me open-mouthed, she led Katia from the room, and shortly I heard giggles coming from the bathroom, and running water. Then quite a time elapsed before they returned. When they did so, Katia wore a robe I identified as my wife's, but proudly parted it for my inspection. She was completely clean-shaven, and it looked as if her labia had been rouged. I was overtaken by a multitude of desires.

But Sandra was speaking. 'Katia, I want you to tell Mark what you have told me, very clearly. Tell him what you want.'

She looked uncertain, and then said, in her halting English, 'I will be a good slave for you. I want that you hurt me much. For that I like. I do everything you want.'

'Good,' said Sandra, 'Tomorrow is Saturday. We go and buy you clothes, then we start your training. But now you can watch my husband fuck me.'

With that she sat on the sofa, and gave me another shock. Two shocks, really. For when she raised her dress up to her waist and spread her legs in a manner I would never have believed until now, I saw not only that for the first time since I had known her she waas not wearing panties, but that she too had shaven her mound!

Katia was sat next to her by now, on the sofa, and I was able to fondle her firm and delicious tits while I was stoking my wife's sopping slit.

Sandra opened her legs even more generously, and fingered her own slit lewdly, pulling her lips apart to afford me easy access, whilst Katia reached over, and held my cock to guide me home. It was all I could do to keep from coming before I had brought Sandra to a moaning orgasm, but thankfully it came quickly enough, and I shot my load deep within her, while Katia pulsed her clitoris fiercely and groaned in unison.

After we cleaned up, I said, 'Time for an early night, I think?' I heard no dissent.

Next morning, we set off in my car, casually dressed, myself in jeans and tee-shirt, Katia in her miniskirt and one of Sandra's tops, and Sandra in leather trousers and sweater. We were headed for some boutiques Sandra had been recommended to.

First stop was a lingerie shop, and the pretty little assistant didn't even raise an eyebrow when I accompanied them into a commodious changing room, and watched while Katia stripped and tried on several garter belts. Her eyes widened just a little, however, when I remarked that her buttocks must be left entirely naked, rejecting one of the garments offered. But she soon regained her composure, and sold us two suspender belts, a platform bra, which left her nipples entirely displayed, four pairs of stockings, all different patterns, and a stout lace-up corset, which Katia eyed with some alarm, anticipating the constriction it would cause. Sandra also picked up a garter belt before we moved on to a dress-shop. On the way I explained that panties were out, and Katia seemed to understand. I glanced in the driving mirror, and she was holding hands with Sandra on the back seat.

Once at the boutique, we were received by an elegant lady in her fifties, who seemed to understand our needs instantly, and ushered us into a back room. Our body language had probably told her in advance!

Sandra and I sat on an overstuffed sofa, while Katia stood and allowed herself to be measured and examined by the lady. Pronouncing herself satisfied, she left, and shortly returned with an armful of clothes, which she draped over an armchair.

'Take your skirt and blouse off,' she told Katia, and showed no surprise when, upon doing so, the young girl was left completely naked, stood in just a pair of high heels in the middle of the floor.

We watched as she was fitted with a series of clothes, and rejected those which would make access difficult, or which we simply didn't like. We eventually walked out with a small selection of skirts and dresses of varying lengths, two sheer blouses, two nightdresses and a negligee that Katia had admired.

Just around the corner was a shoe-shop, and a short stop sufficed to purchase three pairs of needle-heeled sandals, to go with various outfits. Fortunately Katia and Sandra shared the same shoe-size, so that they could change shoes between them at will.

Then we called at a sex-shop in a seedy area of town, and caused something of a stir as we made our way between the shop's more habitual customers, who ogled Katia's legs while I bought two butt-plugs, two vibrators, handcuffs, wrist and ankle-restraints,

a set of nipple-clamps, and a flogger.

Our last stop on a full morning's shopping was at a saddler's, where I had the girls wait in the car while I went in and bought a riding crop.

The expedition complete, I thought a meal would be in order, so really set the seal on my credit cards for the month by treating us all to a nice meal in a fish restaurant, before making our way home. Sandra and I were in fact in an enviable position, economically, and didn't have to think too hard about the purchases we had made.

When we got home, Sandra told Katia to go and rest for an hour, then 'dress in something nice' for us.

We sat and watched television for a while, but I could tell Sandra was restless, and I was feeling a bit fidgety too, until Katia walked in, wearing a short red silk dress with a halter neck and seamed black stockings. She had on a pair of Sandra's gold hoop ear-rings. Her nipples thrust at the silk of the dress and her firm breasts were outlined perfectly as she leaned over to kiss me when she approached the sofa.

'Mark,' said Sandra, 'would you mind sitting in the chair?' She indicated a chair which had wooden arms, and I rose and moved over to it, wondering why.

She took Katia by the hand and said gently to her, 'I hope you meant what you said last night.' Then she unfastened the hooks at the neck of her dress, letting it fall to the floor.

Katia stood proudly in a new black satin garter belt and the seamed black stockings.

Sandra fetched two sets of handcuffs from my purchases of that morning, and quickly slipped a half of each pair on each of Katia's wrists, then bade her kneel in front of my chair. Next she clipped the cuffs to the arms of my chair, so that Katia was cuffed tightly to my chair, and I was unable to resist fondling her lovely firm tits while Sandra went back to the bags of purchases. Katia looked at me with round eyes, an expression I couldn't read. But Sandra was stood behind her, with the new riding crop in her hand. She was going to whip Katia while she was attached to my chair!

Whoosh! The first stroke fell across her gorgeous arse, and I felt the convulsive jerk run through her, accompanied by an instant hardening of her nipples under my hands. My cock also jerked, with a life of its own, into immediate, almost painful hardness.

As my wife prepared another lash, I dragged a hand from an engorged nipple, and unzipped my fly, then struggled to pull my rampant shaft from its prison.

Thus presented to her, Katia took me instantly into her succulent lips, sucking me right into her throat, as Sandra delivered another stinging blow on her offered buttocks.

With each stroke, she sucked harder, until the rhythm became unbearable. I doubt that my wife was using much force on her first foray with the crop, but Katia's lips and mouth were responding perfectly, and I soon shot my load in huge spurts, with an enormous groan.

Katia hungrily swallowed all my hot cum, while Sandra kicked her legs apart and felt her quim. 'You're wet through,' she said, and went straight over to the bag again, returning with another of our purchases, a long, prick-shaped vibrator, which she proceeded to insert, without preliminaries, in the young girl's waiting cunt.

She had to release my cock in order to let out a wild scream, and bucked her whole body as a fierce orgasm instantly shook her.

Sandra released the handcuffs, and I picked Katia up and took her in my arms. She was weeping quietly, with the release of pent-up emotion. I stroked her hair and kissed her gently, then turned her around to look at her reddened arse. It was no more than that. Sandra had not really laid about her with great vigour with the crop, and such stripes as there were would soon disappear. I stroked them gently and she winced just a little.

Knowing what was needed I fetched some cream and smoothed it on, and Katia managed a wry smile.

While I helped her back on with her dress, she smiled again, and said, 'Thank you, Mark, but Sandra has not had a fuck.' I grinned at her command of at least some English.

Sandra overheard from the kitchen, and said, 'Don't worry, Katia, you can make it up to me, later.'

After we had had a snack, we went for a stroll, like any family, our arms around each other, nodding to friends, who must have wondered who was this sexy young creature accompanying us. It felt good.

We sat and watched television for a while, with a drink, and then Sandra said, 'I'm ready for bed, I don't know about you guys.'

Katia stood up and made as if to head for her room, but Sandra put her hand on her arm. 'Come and sleep with us, why don't you? We've got a huge bed. I'd like that.'

Katia agreed and went to get ready. Sandra and I were in bed already when she came into the room in a new long silk nightdress, her hair freshly brushed to a soft sheen. She climbed in between us, and I again felt more than the beginnings of an erection. But Sandra was demanding her turn, and had already guided Katia's fingers down to her hardening clitoris. The girl's questing fingers found their way then between her puffy lips and soon plunged deep within her cunt. First two fingers, then three, then Sandra grabbed Katia roughly by her hair and pulled her head down between her legs.

As she did so, and I heard the slurping noises coming from my wife's soaking cunt, I eased up the silken hem of Katia's nightgown and traced her slim legs, up and up to the smoothness of her mound, where I let my own tongue linger over her tight slit, prising open her lips and seeking the nub of her clit.

My two women cried out in unison, and despite all my efforts, I came again, involuntarily ejaculating on the sheet. We all slept, intertwined as we were, damp patch and all, until Sunday morning light streamed into the room.

Katia was eager to make breakfast for us when we finally got out of bed, and we didn't object.

Today we were committed to visit Sandra aging mother – not a task I relished, but something we periodically had to do, so we left Katia to her own devices, and drove the fifty miles to the old lady's suffocating home, for a boring lunch and session with the photograph album.

We returned home, having promised Katia that we should take her out that evening, to find that she had cleaned the house thoroughly, without being asked.

'You're not that sort of a slave,' I said, laughing, and she stood on tip-toes to kiss me lightly on the cheek.

We all went to get ready for the evening out, and, like most men, I suppose, I was ready long before the women. Sandra was next, dressed in a simple backless blue cocktail dress, fishnet stockings and high heels. I thought she looked ten years younger than she had a few days ago.