Jingles 01

Can something feel right and wrong at the same time? This was the question that flashed through my mind as I contemplated the step I was about to take. It was something I had secretly hankered after, but the closer I got to it, the more my heart seemed to be beating at too fast a pace, and the more my stomach turned with the tension. I knew it was pure folly, but then the whole thing was - and yet, and yet.

The whole thing? That was accepting the invitation to the Manor in the first place. I'd known Nikita since university. Her papa was some impossibly rich Russian oligarch who, having made his money in the chaos which followed the collapse of the USSR, had removed it, himself and his family, from Russia in the early days of Putin's rule. It had turned out to be a smart move.

I'd met Nikita at Oxford where she had discovered that even her father's money could not buy her access to the more exclusive clubs frequented by scions of the aristocracy and old money. Nik was the sort of woman who piqued my interest. I was the younger daughter of the oddest mésalliance imaginable. My Mama was the daughter of an earl and had inherited the family estate upon his death. She was all one might expect from such a thumbnail description: snobbish; conservative; and a pillar of the county set. My Papa, on the other hand was the grandson of a German-Jewish refugee, a bohemian artist whose paintings were fashionable, if, to my eye, incomprehensibly popular. They had met at Sussex in the seventies and, to my continued amazement, they had married and had my sister and me. What was not amazing was their subsequent separation; he went off with one of his many women; Mama went off to run the estate. It was like some drive-by erotic hit job, with consequences, of which I was the least.

My sister, Ella, had Mama's looks and Papa's charm. So beautiful that even her little sister could not but adore her, she had cut a swathe through the most handsome men at her university and married the son of a rich banker, who, in turn, had become a successful mover and shaker in high finance. I'd never have dreamed of trying to compete with her: I lacked her tall, willowy figure, coming in at four foot eight, if I stood on tip toe. Where her figure curved elegantly in all the right places, I simply lacked one, being more or less straight up and down, with breasts so small that at my public school I had been awarded the title of "titless wonder," two years running. Where my sister had been overwhelmed with suitors at the annual school ball, I was never asked to dance. But I did not care. I had a secret. I liked other girls, not that I had done anything about it before my gap year at eighteen. Then, au pairing in Paris, I had fallen madly in love with a friend of the woman whose children I was looking after. Fabienne was half Algerian and wholly stunning. She taught me how to please her, and made me feel attractive for the first time in my life. She was, to outward appearances, the tall, disinterested and sophisticated Parisienne, way of of my league, but she adored me for being petite and biddable. Whatever I learned about looking after children, I learned far more about how to take care of a demanding dominant woman who loved me it return.

We'd known it would end when I had to go up to Oxford, and we'd decided to make a clean break rather than spoiling what we had with a long-drawn out messy ending. I suppose it was missing that which had attracted me to Nikita. Tall, with long dark hair and cheekbones you could have cut paper with, Nik had attracted my attention the first time I saw her at the Oxford Union bar.

I enjoyed my course, and I was good at it, but I wanted to have a social life, but had no idea how to get one. I tried the LGBTQ meetings, but found them too full of radical lesbians for my taste. I was not political enough for them and was obviously too posh. The Oxford Union on the other hand, was full of people, men and women, from my sort of background. Nik had bought her way in, but that had not guaranteed access to the inner sanctum. That was where I had come in.

Fabienne had noticed my tendency to silently gaze at women to whom I was attracted, and Nik followed suite, coming up to me and saying in her accented English: 'you have been looking at my for the last half an hour, so I better break the ice. I'm Nikita, you are?'

'I'm Pixie,' I said, hoping the subdued lighting in the bar would hide my blushes.

'That is very suitable as a name for such a delightful little creature.'

And there it was, or rather there I was - triggered. As well as slightly diminishing me, calling me a 'creature,' she had also complimented me by calling me delightful. Like Fabienne, she had charm and charisma, and soon I was sitting with her, listening to her stories about Russia and telling her something about my family.

'Ah, your father, he is that artist,' she said as I mentioned his name. 'My father has several of his paintings in our London residence. And your mother, she is not with him? Are they divorced?'

I explained that they were not, as it suited Papa to be able to tell his mistresses that while he would love to marry them, he could not without committing bigamy, and it suited Mama who did not believe in divorce and would inherit the copyright to his paintings. It had been a marriage of passion and a separation of convenience.

Nik had taken me back to her house in north Oxford where I had fallen under her spell. I shall never forget that first time. She sat there in her leather armchair, looking like some Russian goddess, the long slit in her dress exposing her legs. She looked at me gazing at her.

'If you want, Pixie, I will let you show how good you are at pleasing me. I am sure you are a good girl, are you not?'

That was it. No foreplay, just the assumption that I wanted her, and the advance praise for being a 'good girl.' At the time I assumed that she just instinctively knew my trigger, but later I discovered I was far from being the only woman turned on by that seductive phrase.

Before I could think, I was on my knees crawling between her thighs. She parted her legs, allowing me access. I gazed on her black thong, tightly stretched and half hidden between her swollen lips. Without hesitation, I breathed on her as I pulled the soaking silk to one side to allow me to worship her pussy. I did not care that she had not washed since morning, the very ripeness was what I craved; the taste of her pee with the fresher taste of her arousal was what I needed. Hidden under her dress, I lavished her pussy with all my attention, sliding my soft, wet tongue along her folds before depositing her cream on her clit which I teased out slowly, before munching her between my lips and tugging at her.

I could feel Nik writhing and hear her moans as I pleasured her. Sucking and letting go of her clit, I slid two fingers into her sopping wetness, curling them in and opening her up, before letting them mimic fucking her. As she clenched and unclenched on them, I could feel my own knickers get suddenly warm and wet as they clung to me. I did not care. I was here to please her. Twisting my fingers, I explored until I found her special place, teasing her with my finger tips.

'Fuck, Pixie, you are a good girl.'

That was all I needed to redouble my efforts, which were rewarded when she gripped my fingers and squirted in my face. I lapped her up as I felt her spasm. She came twice more that night before we undressed and went to sleep in her bed. In the morning she wanted more, which she got.

That was how it began. We were never exclusive. Nik liked her sex varied, something I accepted. I would invite her to the sort of parties she would not otherwise have had access to, and even after graduation, we remained in close touch, as she now moved in the same circles I did.

I would read about her in those thick, glossy, advertisement-strewn magazines aimed at making women of a certain type feel they had access to a life-style to which they can only aspire; I even appeared with her sometimes in group photographs. What appeared in none of those publications was the kinkier side of Nik's preferences, but that was because all phones were confiscated the moment you entered the Manor, a nineteenth century mock-Tudor building set in twenty acres of land which gave total privacy to her guests. That was just as well, given what went on during what she called her 'special weekends.'

What went on was Nik's own invention. Perhaps it was because she had initially been refused access to aristocratic circles that the theme of the weekends alway hinged around access and exclusivity. After a sumptuous dinner on the Friday night, the eight or nine of us invited would be invited out into the garden to 'inspect the goods.'

'The goods,' were a group of submissive women scantily clad who were available to be used across the weekend. I would watch, fascinated, as they allowed themselves to be fingered and groped by what Nik called 'the Elite.' I usually held back, not really ever quite admitting to myself why. It was not that I did not want to participate, it was, if I am honest, that I did not want to participate as part of 'the Elite.' The women were all given numbers, and I usually ended up with one in lower numbers, being slow to choose. Then came the fateful weekend.

At the inspection I noticed a tall, slender woman with a figure rather like mine. Among the usually well-endowed girls, she stood out, and I was not surprised when she was all that was left by the time I got round to making my mind up.

'I am sorry I not more of a prize, Miss Pixie, but I will do my best to please my new Mistress. I am known as X.'

'Thank you X, I am sure you will. Would you like to come back to my suite?'

'That is not something upon which I am qualified to pronounce an opinion, Miss, I will of course come back with you.'

She was wearing nothing except a pair of dirty panties, which she slipped out of the moment we got to my suite. Without a word from me, she dropped to her knees, parted her thighs and help her hands out as though in supplication. It struck me with an ironic smile that she was a better sub than I was a domme.

'You have very small tits, X, but you are clearly well trained.'

'Thank you Miss. How may I please you?'

'What do you normally do?' I asked, not being as comfortable as Nina and company in this role, but knowing what was expected.

This seemed to puzzle X.

'I do as I am told Miss.'

'Good girl. Well then come here and pull my knickers off and eat me out then.'

I stood, leaning back, invitingly (I hoped) against the table. She crawled to me and, lifting my skirt, she rolled my knickers down:

'You seem very aroused Miss.'

She was right, and to hear her say it made me even more so.

'May I eat you out Miss?'

'Good girl, X, yes you may.'

Her practised tongue had soon drawn my clit from her hood, and the way she flicked it soon had me in a state of extreme arousal. Opening my blouse, I pinched and pulled my nipples as she lapped at me.

'You are good at this,' I moaned in appreciation. 'What else can you do?'

That was a stupid question, I thought, she had already told me she did as she was told. But even as I wondered what on earth I had been thinking, she grabbed my hips and, turning me round, spread my arse cheeks and began rimming my tight hole. No one had ever done that to me, though I had done it to Fabienne and Nik. Now I realised why they had wanted it; the sensitive nerve endings there sent sensations of pleasure to my core. As X penetrated me from behind with a finger, I pushed back instinctively.

'Oh yes, yes X, finger me, am I wet and open enough for two?'

'Let me try Miss.'

I am usually tight down there, but I was so wet and aroused that X was able to slip a second finger to stretch me. I pressed back hard, her face pressed into my cheeks as she pushed her tongue into my tightness. The dual sensation was getting to me. I usually took ages to orgasm, but X was getting to me.

'Oh X,' I moaned, 'I am so close now, don't stop.'

I pressed myself against her face as her fingers took me. I could hear myself squelching as she took me. I was edging myself, I realised, I did not want this to stop, but I was getting desperate to orgasm.

'You seem on the edge Miss. Might I improvise to help you cum?'

I knew I needed something to drive me over the edge and decided to trust X's experience in these matters.

'Yes, you may,' I gasped.

Then I felt it, a hard slap on my left cheek, followed by another on the right cheek and then a third. As the fourth one landed, I lost it. Her tongue was pressing against my hole, I was clenching on her fingers, and the sensations set off by her spanking me sent me way, way over the edge. I had never orgasmed with such intensity. For a few moments I was totally lost in the moment. As I came back, her fingers seemed to be filling my pussy and, despite feeling so sensitive, I pressed back on them - hard. I no longer cared about anything except the pleasure.

'Yes, oh fuck, X, fuck, fuck, take me hard, spank me more.'

Being an obedient girl, that was precisely what she proceeded to do. I had not been spanked since I had been in Paris and had almost forgotten how much it turned me on. The initial pain turned to pleasure between my legs and radiated through me. I pressed back, hard, wanting more and more of her fingers. As the spanks continued, I felt my arse getting really sore. I knew I should have told her when to stop - as a good sub, she would keep going until then; but I could not. Then I found myself cumming again - and hard. Only then did she stop.

Slowly gathering my scattered senses, I pulled away, letting her remove her fingers. I turned, trying to sit on the table, but wincing as I realised how sore my bum was. X looked utterly adorable, her face smeared with me, her cheeks red and flushed.

'You ARE a good girl X.'

'Thank you Miss, I aim to give pleasure. I hope I did not over step the mark with my improvisation?'

'Not at all X, it was very inventive of you.'

'Thank you Miss, it was intuitive.'

'How so?'

She looked reluctant to speak.

'I have said too much Miss, it is not my place.'

'I order you to.'

'Very well Miss. Well you are not like the other members of the Elite I have served, you seemed hesitant, and I wondered if you might, well, have other tendencies. I watched you during the choosing ceremony.'

By then I was blushing, which was silly seeing as I was standing there, already naked below the waist, my skirt up and my bum on fire. But what she was saying was turning me on again.

'And, what, erm, what did you think?'

'That you would rather have been with us than with them, Miss.'

'I see. You do realise that to become a member of the `elite you have to have both money and background, X, and I have both.'

'Yes, Miss, sorry Miss, I should know my place.'

I should have stopped it there, but couldn't.

'No, I told you to tell me the truth, and you must, so do as I say.'

I saw a fleeting grin cross her face.

'You seem, Miss, to be more like one of us than one of them.'

Our eyes met. She knew that I knew that she was right.

'Thank you for being honest X. Now, I expect you need beating.'

'Well, when I report back afterwards, Miss, they will expect to see signs of your dominance. Can I suggest using the cane on me, it will leave the most obvious marks with the least effort.'

'Well, X, what are you waiting for - go get it.'

I watcher her crawl across to the rack where the various instruments of pleasure/pain were stored. Standing, she took the rattan cane, and then, with it in her mouth, she brought it back, kneeling up to offer it to me.

'Good girl, X. Now then, stand up, turn round, bend over the grip your ankles.'

She grinned at me.

'At last Miss, yes, of course.'

Ignoring the continued ache of my own well-spanked backside, I watched as she displayed herself to me, her boyish figure accentuated by her bending. I wanted to reward her for what she had given me and so, overcoming my own reluctance to hurt her, I gave an almighty swing with the cane, catching her squarely across the middle of her arse. She gasped.

'One, thank you Miss.'

On each stroke, she would count the number and thank me. As her arse was marked with red lines, I noticed her pussy was beginning to moisten. By the time we reached twelve strokes, where I had planned to stop, it was clear she wanted more.

'Right, X, get up and stand facing me.'

She did, wincing slightly as her arse must have been on fire. She stood there, her eyes a study in lustful pleasure, her small tits almost dwarfed by her big, swollen nipples.

Without saying anything, I knew what she needed, and I struck across her tits twice before bringing the cane up to hit between her thighs. Her moan was one of ecstasy.

'Thank you Miss.'

'Thank you, X,' I said, noticing we were coming close to the end of this session. 'You were a good girl, and you are now well-marked.'

Then, overcome with emotion, I pulled her to me and kissed her. She opened her mouth and out tongues met. I took her to the bed and lay there holding her. We lay like that for the rest of the allocated time. I stroked her hair, and she kissed me. As I lay back, I let out a moan.

'Sorry Miss, was I too hard with my spanking?'

'Not at all, I hope I was not a disappointment?'

'Well you were not very Mistress-like in wanting to be spanked, but you made up for it with the cane. You will not be disgraced when they inspect me.'

'They inspect you? Who is they?'

'Mistress Nikita and her friend, Miss Nina.'

Nina had always been something of a mystery to me. Where she was happy to hang out with other members of the Elite, she had never bothered much with me, but she and Nik were, as the saying goes, thick as thieves.

'What do they do?'

'We are inspected, partly to make sure we have not been too damaged to play later, and partly to check that they are allocating the right slave to the right domme for the night-time session.'

'And you, X, you do this why?'

'Do you really need to ask, Miss?'

She was right, I had no need to, I knew the answer.

'Thank you for comforting me, Miss, it is not something I have had before. Be careful, you may spoil me,' she grinned, looking at me as we lay together. She kissed me again:

'Now, Miss, you better get dressed, will you be okay with your knickers on that sore bum?'

'I shall have to be,' I said, pulling them up and feeling the elastic rubbing against my sore arse cheeks,

'If I might suggest, Miss, the collar and leash would be ideal for you to lead me back naked.'

Thus it was.

I felt a sense of loss, handing X back to Nik, who examined her in front of me.

'You did well Pixie, she is well-marked. I shall see you afterwards for our afternoon sessions.'

I went back and mingled with the other members of the Elite over a light buffet supper. After strolling on the terrace, we went back to the main room to begin the night's fun and games.

'Now, ladies, Nina and I have collated the reports and we shall see each of you shortly to allocated your slave for the night.'

The slave girls were all lined up, naked. Most of them had cane marks on the front of their bodies, and I was sure they all had them on their backsides. Mine hurt in sympathy, making my pussy so damp.

'Nina will see some of you in her room, I will see the others, starting with Pixie.'

Catching her eye, I followed her to her room.

'Sit down, Pixie, no, not there, on the hard chair please.'

I had been about to sit in the armchair, and having to use the hard one made me wince as I sat.

'Sore arse, Pixie?'

I blushed deep, lost for words.

'You do know you are supposed to be the one doing the spanking?'