Sylvia's Switch

I felt as if I couldn't care less about Jason – I'd forgotten he existed – and we decided just to tell him that I'd missed the last bus, and the firm was putting me up in a hotel. Susana made the call, and I heard her using her most imperious tone with him.

'He made no objection,' she said, when she had rung off.

'He hardly could, with you playing the Countess,' I said.

'Oh, didn't I tell you,' she said, I am a Countess.'

'Not really?'

'Really! Now, let me find you a nightgown, darling, and then we should have a quiet drink before we turn in.'

She went to the wardrobe and returned with a long silk gown over each arm, giving me the choice. I picked the blue one, she wore white, both luxurious French garments, lace-trimmed, with spaghetti straps. We brushed each others' hair while we had a liqueur, then climbed into bed, to lay between satin sheets, our bodies entwined in a night-long embrace. I awoke at some point during the night to find I had turned over and Susana was cupping my breast in her hand, gently kneading it as her regular breathing told me she was asleep. I had never felt so loved in my life.

When next I woke it was morning. The sun streamed into the room, and a trolley stood by the bed. Susana sat in the armchair beside it, a silk robe over her gown, watching my consciousness return. For a moment I didn't know where I was, then it came flooding back, and I smiled at her.

'Breakfast!' she said, indicating the trolley. I was ravenous, and attacked the rolls and croissants. Susana watched me, and, when I had devoured a couple of rolls and was a little more tractable, she said, 'I need to talk to you, Sylvia, darling.'

She had my attention. 'Just how good – or how bad – is your marriage?' she asked, 'if, of course, you don't mind me asking.'

'I don't mind at all. Before last night I would have said it was pretty bad. Now….' – I swallowed, and felt myself colouring up - 'now, I think it's beyond redemption.'

'Would you be prepared to leave your husband?' she asked, looking at me searchingly.

'Yes,' I replied, without hesitation, and meant it. The gentle love I had known the night before had carried with it a passion that required no penetration by a man's penis, and I somehow knew that it was no more than an introduction to pleasures I could only dream of.

'If you really mean that,' Susana was saying, 'I have a proposal to put to you.'

'Oh?' I sat up straight, breakfast suddenly forgotten.

'Come with me to Madrid. Be my assistant in the company, and live with me in my home.'

'Oh yes, Susana!' I agreed, without giving it a moment's thought.

'Not so fast!' she warned me. 'I shall make demands on you that perhaps you can't imagine, and, as I said to you last night, we may visit together places you have never even dreamed of. Did you understand what I meant by that?'

'I…I think so,' I stammered. She was still looking at me intensely, and her dark brown pools of eyes turned my knees to jelly. She took my hand in hers, turned it over, and kissed my palm, then said, 'Slip into one of my tee-shirts and a skirt – you should squeeze into them – then we'll run over to your house, while your husband's out. You can collect your passport, and a few things you don't want to leave behind. I'll get us on the afternoon flight.'

'But the boutique?' I queried.

'Covered,' she said, smiling conspiratorially, 'I talked to Maria, the second-in-command from Manchester, and she is coming down to open up this morning.'

'So you had this all planned!' I felt slightly piqued now, that she had schemed behind my back.

'Don't be angry, darling,' she said, 'I've wanted you ever since I first saw you, at your interview last year.' And I was starting to realise that the feeling was mutual.

'Come on,' she said, 'let's have a shower now, and then I'll help you shave.'

No sooner had the cascade of warm water started to work its magic on my body than Susana joined me in the cubicle, moulding her lithe, slender form to mine, squirming around from in front of me to behind and back again, soaping my tits, then down across my flat belly, my mound, and down, down, between my legs, which seemed to prise apart of their own accord as her questing fingers probed around my puffy labia, sought my clit, already standing proud in anticipation. I bent down to suck at her lovely nipples, and she moaned her pleasure, pushing her mons against my hand as I explored her pussy. We kissed with abandon, and masturbated each other to slow, luxurious orgasms, as the jets of water prickled my skin.

We dried each other, and took our time making up and dressing, interrupted only by a message from Reception to say that Marie had collected the key to the boutique which Susana had left for her.

At about ten thirty, we took a taxi to the flat I had shared with my husband for the last two years. Entering, and inviting Susana over the threshold, I felt like a burglar. I crept about the flat, first making sure that Jason was well-and-truly out of the way. Susana wandered around the lounge, picking up photos – me as a teenager, our white wedding, Jason's football team, ordinary stuff – while I turfed out drawers looking for papers I should need. Nothing had ever felt more odd, but I can't say it felt wrong, or that I had any pangs of conscience about what I was about to do.

I found my almost-new passport – I had taken out a new one last year for a ski-trip to Switzerland – as well as my cheque book, credit-cards, birth certificate, and any other important papers I could think of. I also collected my address-book, a few family photos and some bits of jewellery my mother had given me, and then, after shovelling them into a grip, I went back into the lounge and asked Susana what clothes I should wear.

'Just a cotton dress or something,' she said, 'and don't bring anything much. We'll kit you out when we get there, and we can't carry too much.' I liked the sound of that, and in the end, just brought my make-up, toiletries and a spare pair of panties. I debated leaving Jason a note, then thought better of it – I'd ring him some time, the bastardd didn't deserve an explanation.

'Come on,' said Susana, mysteriously, 'let's get back to the hotel, there's something I want to do before lunch.'

Once we were back in her suite, and I had dumped my pitifully small belongings just inside the door, she turned to me, and taking me by the hand, led me gently to the bathroom.

'Now let's have your dress off, darling,' she said, and obediently, I crossed my hands, and lifted the hem up and over my head.

'Now the panties, and sit on the edge of the toilet seat!'

Meanwhile, she was running warm water into the bidet alongside, and had produced a large can of shaving foam from the bathroom cabinet.

When I had done her bidding, she lathered my luxuriant, but well-trimmed bush thoroughly. I had always kept it trimmed so as to be invisible in my bikinis, so there was no need to clip any long hair away first. She took a plastic razor and started carefully to shave away every vestige of hair from my mound. She kept looking up at me from time to time, but would then revert to total concentration, and take enormous care not to nick me with the razor. As she worked, she wiped away excess foam, and lingered a moment around the start of my crack, making me feel the start of a sensation of warmth creep into the nether regions of my vagina. She tenderly pulled aside my labia, stroking away the small hairs that grew beside my outer pussy-lips, then had me sit further forward, so that she could gain access to the incredibly sensitive area between my cunt and my arsehole, where she shaved off a few tiny hairs. She took care to clear up any hairs that grew around the tiny puckered hole of my anus, and, as she did this, looked deeply into my eyes as she poked just the tip of her long-nailed forefinger into my anus. My eyes widened as I cried out in surprise, and then she kissed me, her tongue darting between my teeth like a snake's.

She levered herself off me then, and said, 'Now, Sylvia darling, leave your panties off, put your dress back on, and walk about the suite for a few moments. Tell me what it feels like!'

I did as she told me. It felt very strange. I had never felt more vulnerable, more naked, in my life, and yet I knew I was decently covered by the knee-length cotton dress.

'It feels…..funny,' was the best I could manage.

'I'd like you to go about like that from now on, to remind you that you are mine,' she said, mildly.

'You mean, out in the street, as well?'

'It's nice and warm in Madrid at this time of year,' she smiled, and the conversation was closed. I just wondered briefly if I was going to be as much a 'possession' of Susana as I had been of Jason, then decided I liked the idea much better, anyway!

'What are you laughing about?' she asked me, a bit later.

'Was I?' I asked, 'I really didn't realise. It's because I'm so happy!'

The dreary Iberia flight to Madrid arrived half an hour late, and we emerged from Barajas airport into a warm, sultry evening to join a short queue for a taxi. I was still feeling very self-conscious, now standing there in the open air, the breeze from passing traffic wafting up my thin cotton skirt, around my naked, shaven pubes. I had to confess I liked the feeling, and glanced more than once at Susana's proud profile, thinking how lucky I was.

The taxi-ride was a frantic one, through teeming traffic, for more than half an hour, but we were deposited in a leafy suburb I later found was called 'El Moralejo,' outside a long, low chalet with an entry-phone system on the gate. I expected Susana to take out a key, but she simply pressed a buzzer, and the gate opened. As we struggled through with our luggage, a girl in a short black mini-dress and frilly white apron came scurrying down a crazy-paved path from the house to help us.

'Buenas tardes, Señora la Contesa,,' she said.

'Hola, Adela,' said Susana, and proceeded to introduce the maid, who appeared to speak little or no English, to me, as the girl curtsied respectfully, then took Susana's suitcase up the path to the house. She was dark and vivacious, in her early twenties, I thought.

The house was the last word in luxury, and Susana had Adela show me to my room, which looked out over lawns and a fishpond – a far cry, I thought, from the flat I had left behind. I had no sooner arranged my pathetic few toiletries and make-up in the en-suite bathroom than a knock sounded at the door.

'Come in!' I called, in a small voice.

It was Susana, already changed out of the business suit she had travelled in, and wearing a short cream silk robe and furry mules.

'Welcome to my home, darling,' she said.

'Oh, I'm so happy to be here,' I said, 'I just hope I won't disappoint you!'

'If you are prepared to learn, and give yourself up to the pleasures I can teach you, you won't disappoint either of us,' she said, 'come and have something to eat now, then you must rest. Tomorrow, we'll go and buy you some things you need, and we can start your – what shall we call it? – readjustment? – Yes, that's right, readjustment.' She smiled, and patted my bum as I walked with her to the dining room, where a silent Adela was already laying out food.

I wasn't exactly frightened, but a touch concerned, I suppose, at the newness of it all, the suddenness with which I had let myself be persuaded to quit my humdrum married life. Susana saw all this going through my mind, I thought, and didn't want to rush me. She stroked my thigh under the table as we ate, and, before I went up to bed, kissed me, a long, passionate kiss I savoured as I slipped into the short silk nightgown Adela had laid out for me, and slotted myself between satin sheets. I fell asleep in seconds.

It took me time to decide where I was when I awoke. It was already warm, sun reflecting from the fishpond when I looked out of the window, and there were sounds of movement elsewhere in the house. Gathering my hair under a shower-cap, I had a quick shower, and slipped on a towelling robe I found behind the bathroom door.

'¿Desayuno?' asked Adela, when I found her in the dining room. I remembered that that meant breakfast, and nodded emphatically. She signalled for me to sit down, and I was soon presented with a tray of rolls, doughnuts, a pot of coffee and a glass of orange juice. I ate alone, and had just finished when Susana appeared, looking a million dollars, in an Armani suit and heels.

'Good morning, darling,' she said, 'I breakfasted earlier. I've put some clothes out for you. We leave in half an hour, and I'll explain some things on the way. OK?'

I nodded agreement, a bit overwhelmed, and went to my room, to find a fine grey shot-silk suit, and a white blouse laid out on the bed. There was also a blue satin garter belt and a pair of shiny silvery stockings. Beside the bed stood a pair of elegant sandals with four-inch heels. There was, of course, no sign of panties, and no bra. When I put the suit on, I was somehow not surprised to find that it was a perfect fit, with a skirt which moulded my buttocks and, due to its extreme tightness about my knees, coupled with the height of my heels, rendered my walk very sexy, I thought. My unfettered breasts jiggled nicely under the blouse, but with the jacket on, I would pass for a successful young businesswoman anywhere.

Susana called me down, and I got my next shock. She had a uniformed chauffeuse waiting for us in the doorway, a small lady, dark-skinned, probably South Amercican, whom she addressed as Lola.

We were whisked off efficiently in a huge Mercedes, into the commercial hub of Madrid. On the way, Susana explained to me that she had three stores in Madrid, which was where her empire had started, with money her late father had left her, and she wanted me to help her expand and control the international side of the business, when I had learned all about it from her. She said she knew I could cope with it. I must have looked nervous at that, because she squeezed my knee, and said, 'Don't worry, I'll make sure you know everything before I turn you loose, darling!'

As we approached the first of her stores, and turned into a multi-storey carpark, she said, 'First thing, at this store, is that we get you kitted out. It's my first store and my biggest, so we should find you everything here.'

She introduced me to Eva, the manageress, and her two young assistants, Conchi and Ana, all of whom were dazzlingly pretty, and we chatted for a while in a friendly way, then Susana waved me through into a palatial fitting room, where I was surrounded by racks of clothes. She sent Lola out to buy two of the biggest suitcases she could find, and we set about providing me with an entire wardrobe.

'There are a few items we need to buy for you that my stores don't stock,' said Susana, 'but all the clothes you need, we should find here.'

And she did. My mind was in a whirl, as I tried on things I never dreamed I would ever wear. Minute flared silk miniskirts, transparent tops, fantastic evening gowns in shimmering gold and silver lamé, long skirts so tight I felt shackled, backless dresses open right down to the crease of my buttocks, dresses with décolleté so deep that my navel was visible, even a dress clasped at the sides so that my lack of panties would be completely obvious.

Susana at length pronounced herself satisfied, and we set off for the next port of call. We stopped in a street full of posh boutiques, parking illegally – though not alone in doing so – outside a lingerie shop.

'I thought you didn't approve………' I started.

'Ah,' was all she said, and we were greeted by an obviously gay man, who kissed us both in a cloud of perfume, then stood aside as we walked through into a fitting room, where a slightly overweight middle-aged woman said, in English, for my benefit, 'Don't mind Pedro, he's part of the furniture!'

Susana explained in rapid Spanish what she wanted, and the woman disappeared for about ten minutes, leaving us in awkward silence, sitting on overstuffed sofas.

When she returned, she was wheeling a small trolley, and, without a word, started to lay out the goods on a table, for Susana's inspection. Susana beckoned me to join her.

There were three garter belts like the one I was wearing, and various pairs of stockings to go with them. She had brought two bras, both of which were no more than platforms, and Susana told me to try them on. I was at first a bit diffident, taking off my jacket and blouse in front of the other woman, but did so, and when I put on the first black bra, my breasts were pushed up on top of it, the nipples thrusting forward prettily.

'Nice!' commented my boss.

The next two items were corsets, one black, one white, and I could see that, although their material was shiny satin, they contained stiff whalebones.

'But I don't need a corset – yet!' I protested.

'I want you to wear these for me sometimes,' said Susana, 'try one on, they're both the same size.'

I wriggled out of my skirt, now all too aware of my shaven nakedness, and was stood there in garter belt and stockings.

'Garter belt too,' darling,' reminded Susana, and I unclipped my stockings and stepped out of it.

She offered the white corset up to my body, and it felt very tight when she buttoned it up the front, constricting my already narrow waist considerably, and thrusting my buttocks out behind and my tits out above, as it ended as a platform bra.

'How is that for fit?' asked the woman.

'Tight!' I replied.

But Susana, behind me, had hold of the cords which laced up the fearful Victorian garment, and pulled on them as hard as she could, making me gasp and moan with the agony, as my body was forced to accept the restraint. Surreptitiously, Susana ran her hand through my slit while the older woman was arranging the next item.

'Hmmm,' she murmured. I was wet.

'Connect up your stockings, you can leave the corset on for now,' she said, tying off the cords, 'and get dressed – you don't need to try anything else on.'

I put the blouse and suit back on, now acutely aware of the corset's savage restraint, not sure whether I liked it or not. Exciting, it certainly was, but I couldn't say why' and when I was back in the tightness of the skirt and the high heels, I wondered at myself. What, exactly, was happening to me?

The rest of the lingerie Susana bought for me consisted of nightgowns and negligees, all in sheer silk, with lace trim, two fishnet catsuits, and a pair of transparent harem pyjamas, the legs of which appeared to be disconnected, so that they were completely open at the crotch.

As we left the shop, she said, 'I hope you're not too uncomfortable, darling. I find it exciting thinking about you in that corset. We've finished now. Everything else you need, I have at home. Let's go have some lunch, and then we'll go home.'

Over a light lunch, I confided in Susana. 'Being dressed like this does something for me. Something I don't understand – I feel……aroused, all the time. Am I strange?'

'No darling, you're feeling what I've seen in you – your innate eroticism. And this is just the start, trust me.'

Spanish hours gave us a break of three or four hours after lunch, before Susana wanted to show me her other two stores in the city, so Lola delivered us home for our siesta.

'Come up to bed with me, darling,' said Susana, as soon as we were in the cool of the house.

I excused myself to go to the toilet, and left my suit hanging behind the door. By the time I got to Susana's room, she was sat on her bed, wearing only a short silk slip and hold-ups, which was, I thought the only underwear she had worn all morning. I stood at the foot of her bed in just my white satin corset and stockings.