Renata's Vacation Ch. 02

I had lost count of the days I had been at the club, but I knew that my life was changed – and for good. My humdrum existence back in the UK was a thing of the past, and I had decided that, come what may, I was going to stay here, or at least try to. Question was, with whom did I need to speak? Doña Francisca, or Sergio? It was Sergio who had first brought me here, but Doña Francisca appeared to wield mighty authority here, and might well be the owner of the club, for all I knew – all was shrouded in mystery, and when I asked Lara, she simply shrugged, and said she had no idea. She had been there only a day or two longer than I, anyway, and was all set to return from whence she had come. She was from Romania, and José wanted her to help him recruit other girls there – I didn't much like the sound of that, and told her so, but she shrugged again, and said she had no option – question of visas, she said.

I resolved to ask Sergio when next I saw him, but, meantime, I was left to my own devices for the morning. I took a long, hot bath, and pampered myself thoroughly with all the many oils and fragrances I could find, taking care to soothe the welts left over from my recent whippings. As I fingered them, and ran my hands around the stripes, looking at my image in the mirrors surrounding my bathroom, I found myself getting aroused again, and my hand strayed to my already erect clitoris, and I let my fingers play between it and my warm and puffy labia.

My other hand found its way to my hardening nipples, still feeling the soreness from the cruel clamps I had worn yesterday, the memory of which aroused me still more. I sighed and, making a big effort, got out of the bath, and towelled myself dry, then blow-dried my long black hair, and brushed it until it shone.

I went to the wardrobe and took my time rustling through the clothes, many of which I hadn't yet tried. For lunchtime, I settled finally on a white satin whale-boned corset, which I laced as tightly as I was able, gasping at the constriction of my waist. I looked at my image in the full-length mirror, and saw that the corset pushed my smallish but shapely tits up and out, so that their prominent nipples stood out in what I though was an appealing way. Turning and looking over my shoulder, I saw my long hair falling to almost the bottom of the corset, which left my buttocks completely free. On them, and my upper thighs, could plainly be seen the marks of my most recent whipping.

I pulled on a pair of white, lace-top stockings, and fastened them to the corset's garter-straps, then stepped into a pair of outrageously high-heeled gold sandals. As I did so, I reflected that a very few days ago, I should have scarcely thought it possible to walk in shoes as high as these – now I wore them as a matter of course.

I completed the outfit with a shimmering gold silk skirt, which came to just below the tops of my stockings, and a transparent gold organdie blouse, through which my nipples jutted over the top of the corset. Putting on a pair of long gold ear-rings and a delicate anklet, I took a last look in the mirror and decided I was ready to face ........well, just about anybody.

I went down to lunch, with the confidence of someone who felt as if they were starting to 'belong' at last, and dined alone, drawing appraising looks from other diners, which I enjoyed. Whilst I was taking coffee, Doña Francisca came and sat with me. She pre-empted the question I had uppermost in my mind.

'Renata, my dear, I want you to consider staying here with us – for an indefinite period,' she said, a lace-gloved hand resting on my knee. 'You will, of course, have everything you want here, and a substantial sum of money will be paid into your account each month. I understand you will wish to speak with your parents, who will, if you agree, travel home without you. You may not, of course, give them any details of this establishment, and the address is a post office box.'

'But what will I have to do?' I wanted to know. I had fallen in love with a lifestyle, but couldn't envisage how I could turn it into a means of making a living.

The older woman laughed lightly. 'You will assist with our little "spectaculars" and other entertainments, train new recruits, and entertain clients yourself.'

'That last bit makes me sound like a whore.'

'My dear, we are all whores, in some way. What did you do, back in Britain?'

'I worked in computers.'

'Eight hours a day, tapping a keyboard, for a small sum of money, to make someone rich, hmmmm.'

'OK, so I sold my fingers and my brain, I suppose,' I grinned, and relaxed. I looked at Doña Francisca's dark eyes, and saw an answering smile playing in them. She knew she had me hooked. 'Let me go and see my parents,' I said.

She leaned over the table and kissed me, her tongue darting into my mouth – I accepted it hungrily – and she said: 'Welcome, Pet. Go and put on something your parents will recognise you in, and I'll see you in the hallway in half an hour.'

I went back to my room, and reluctantly got out of my wonderful sexy clothes, thinking about putting on a pair of jeans, when I remembered that there were no such things in my wardrobe, so I settled for a button-through cotton summer dress, just above knee-length. I had neither panties nor bra, apart from a few half-bras, which did nothing more than push my breasts out and make my nipples stand out prominently, so I wore no underwear, and I only had very high-heeled shoes, so put on a pair of white stilettos.

My boss was waiting for me as promised, and her sleek Mercedes was outside on the driveway.

Unlike the journey to the club, I was not blindfolded, and watched orange groves and tourist apartments flash by as we made good time to Benidorm.

She left me at the foyer of the hotel, and, although I was certain my mother would be taking her siesta in the room, I had the male receptionist call to announce me before riding up to the fifth floor in the lift.

'You're soon back,' said my mother, a trifle sourly, as if she resented being awoken, 'your father's gone for a stroll – he'll be back any time now.'

No sooner had she got me an orange juice from the room's little fridge, than my father came breezing back, looking, I thought, younger than I had seen him look for some time.

'Benidorm suits you, then,' I remarked, and he smiled.

'And what have you been up to, my precious?'

'Oh, this and that,' I said, wishing to avoid any dangerous territory. I thought I would come straight to the point, 'I have been offered a lucrative job, in international publicity.'

It was what Doña Francisca had told me to say. 'I need to stay close to here, at a conference centre, for several months.'

'Oh, that sounds interesting,' said my father, 'can we go and see the centre.'

'I'm afraid not – it's not yet finished.' Again, I had been well briefed.

My mother sat passively through the exchange, but perked up a bit when I asked her to send me details of her bank account, as well as mine. At home, I had always shared my salary with her as my contribution to the upkeep of the home.

When I thought we had finished discussing matters, and I got up to leave, telling them that someone was waiting for me, my father, who was more observant than I sometimes gave him credit for, said, 'Since when have you taken to wearing heels like that? And an anklet? Got a man we don't know about?'

I gave him a coy look, and trotted over to kiss him on the cheek. As I left the room, his gaze followed me fondly.

Back in the Mercedes, I suppressed a sigh of relief – the 'generation gap' had never felt wider. But, of course, Doña Francisca was almost as old as my mother, I realised with a grin.

'What are you smiling at?' she asked, as we joined the motorway.

I told her I was just very pleased to be coming back with her, and her hand ran up my thigh, seeking the folds of my pussy. I gasped as she found my slit, and as a long fingernail grazed my clitoris, my dampness increased instantly.

I wanted to return the favour, and put my hand on her nylon-clad knee, but she stopped me, saying, 'No, Pet, I'm going to have to stop if you want to do that.'

'Oh yes,' I heard myself saying, and she turned off into a dense area of pinewoods, and brought the big car to a halt some little way up a rough track.

She half turned to face me, and pulled the black ribbon from her platinum-blonde hair, letting it fall about her face. She looked ten years younger, and less severe altogether.

We kissed, gently at first, then she crushed her lips against mine and found my rock-hard nipples with her fingers, kneading and pulling at them until I shouted out with pain and pleasure. I felt up under her pleated skirt, up to the tops off her nylons, to thee soft flesh above, and up to her lovely, hairless mound, more protuberant than most. She parted her legs, drawing me into her moistness, so that I felt sucked in by her capacious cunt, and I put first two then three fingers right up inside her, pushing hard, into her secret depths.

'More,' she shouted, and took my whole hand within her, as she held fiercely on to me, pulling me into her as if she would never let go, then, with a great gasp, she was finished, and pushed me gently away.

'Come on, let's go,' was all she said, and took the wheel to drive the rest of the way to the club without a word.

When we arrived, she sat and waited while I walked around and opened her door for her, and smiled slightly when I let her walk in front of me. I hadn't forgotten I was to address her as 'mistress' in front of other people at the club, and these small acts of subservience were proof of this.

I went to my room to prepare for dinner, as it was now almost seven. When I arrived, I saw that the door to the room next door, Lara's, stood open. I poked my head around it, to find one of the maids busy arranging clothes in the wardrobe.

'Where is Lara?' I demanded.

The girl either spoke virtually no English, or was not about to. 'No here.'

That much was obvious. I tried out my rudimentary Spanish. '¿Donde esta Lara?'

'Se ha ido'

'¿Pero a donde?'

'A su país, con José.'

I understood her to mean that Lara had already gone off to Romania, with José. I should miss her, and felt an emptiness within me.

But I readied myself for the evening, wondering what it may have in store for me. My Mistress (I was already thinking of her as such – it was safest) had not told me in any detail what was expected of me, and I was in a state of nervous excitement about my future at the club. It would have been wonderful to have Lara to talk to about it.

I shrugged and went to the wardrobe, picking out a long black silk gown with a halter neck, backless, so that the stripes of my whipping would not all be hidden from view. I slipped it over my head, and its soft folds fell over my naked body, giving the loveliest sensation. I stepped into a pair of very high black patent heels, and completed my simple ensemble with a pair of very long gold ear-rings, which brushed my shoulders.

When I went down to the dining room, I was delighted to Sergio already there, wearing a grey business suit and striped tie.

'Hello, Pet,' he said, 'I gather you're staying with us.' He looked pleased, but didn't look ready to turn somersaults. He kissed me on both cheeks, and complimented me on my appearance, then clicked his fingers. A girl in a little black dress and frilly white apron appeared from nowhere, and he whispered something in her ear. She scooted out as if on wheels.

I stood beside Sergio for no more than a couple of minutes, and was about to ask him what was going on, when he put a finger to my lips, and pointed to the door with the other hand. The maid was just then ushering in two young women. One was a fair-skinned, blue-eyed, blonde, tall and slim, with long, straight hair, and the other was much shorter, petite, with distinctly Asiatic features and short, ink-black hair. They both wore jeans and tee-shirts.

'I'd like you to meet Emma and Mai,' said Sergio, 'they are here for a week or so, if they are suitable. I hope you will play a major part in their training, Renata.'

He had noticed what I was wearing and said pointedly, 'Please lead the two girls to their rooms. Mai will take the room next to yours, and Emma the one next to that.' He smiled briefly, and I turned, and led the girls out and up the stairs, gathering my dress up to avoid tripping.

It was Mai who asked, when we reached the top floor, 'Have you been beaten?'

I turned and smiled at her, remembering Doña Francisca's words to me, 'You have a lot to learn,' I said.

I showed them both their rooms, and told them to prepare for dinner. I thought it best to sit them both down on one bed and inform them of the rules. They were:-

No body-hair allowed.

No panties unless expressly requested.

No bra, except half-bras which left nipples exposed.

No trousers.

All shoes to be high-heeled

It was all, in fact, extremely simple, because the only items in the wardrobes and drawers of their rooms were in strict compliance with the codes of dress demanded, and I left the two girls wide-eyed with wonder at the fantastic selection of beautiful silk and other transparent and semi-transparent gowns, negligees, dresses and skirts they found.

I left them to it, and went back to rejoin Sergio in the dining room.

'Thank you, Pet,' he said, 'I know you'll do well.'

I was about to protest that I didn't really know what was expected of me, when we were joined by another couple, who Sergio introduced as Mario and Marta. Mario was powerfully-built and dark, and Marta was olive-skinned and curvaceous. They both wore an air of authority, and her suit was Armani if ever I saw one, whilst her shoes may well have come from Manolo's in Madrid.

Sergio, speaking Spanish, after first apologising to me – apparently the others spoke little or no English - introduced me as his girlfriend, which staggered me momentarily – The titlenoviain Spanish society is taken rather formally – but then he was telling me that this couple were the owners of the club, and that Doña Francisca, for all her airs, was only manageress. I was beginning to understand a bit more.

The conversation partly went over my head, but the gist of it seemed to be that Mario was interested to see the new recruits Sergio had brought, especially Emma, and in her connection, I caught the word 'virgen'more than once, accompanied by half-humorous snorts from Marta.

While we were eating, the two newcomers were shown in by one of the club's many pretty young assistants, and sat at a nearby table. Mai wore a white silk blouse, at which young nipples poked appealingly, and a minute pleated black miniskirt, revealing bare, slender legs on the obligatory stilettos. Emma had chosen a long electric-blue dress, which was really two halves, the front and back fastened together by three silver clips, one just below her armpit, one just above the waist and the third at thigh level. This ensured that anyone could see at a glance she was naked under the dress, and I thought it looked charming, though Emma was clearly feeling self-conscious as she took her place at the table. That she was unused to walking on the high heels was also very obvious. I feared for her, and said so to Sergio. He patted my knee, and said, 'Don't worry, Pet, she has passion written all over her. Look at the way she wears that dress.'

After we had taken coffee, and waited for the girls to finish, Sergio told me to take them to the 'library.'

I took it he meant the big room where I had first been punished upon my arrival at the club, and beckoned the girls to follow me there.

Once again I was aware that Emma, in particular, was looking at the wheals on my back as we went down the corridor, and the girls seemed apprehensive when we got to the room, but I wasn't going to put them at ease – it wasn't my job. Conscious that Sergio and the two owners were following behind, I sat down in one of the armchairs and beckoned first Emma to stand before me.

'Raise your dress,' I told her, anticipating my orders.

She looked at me quizzically, and slowly lifted her dress up her long naked legs, pausing for a second, then revealing a perfectly clean-shaven mound. I told her to hold her dress up at her waist, and ran my hand through her slit, forcing her to open her thighs a little. She was damp with anticipation, though not unduly so, and had neat, almost concealed labia. I found her little nub of a clitoris, and flicked at it with a long fingernail, causing an 'Oh' to escape from her lips. I let my fingers linger a moment longer in her cunt, then allowed her to drop her skirt and go and sit down.

It was Mai's turn, and she took her place in front of me, rather more hesitantly, I thought. This time, I hadn't any need of help, as her skirt was barely long enough to hide her pussy from view. But as soon as I lifted it an inch or two, I could see why she had been reluctant. She had still a luxuriant growth of pubic hair.

'This is disgusting,' I said, and, as if on cue, Sergio, Mario and Marta walked into the room.

'What is disgusting, Pet?' asked Sergio.

'Look at this,' I told him, and held Mai's skirt up for him to see her bush.

'Oh dear, he said, 'I'm afraid that means early punishment for our new friend.'

If I was expecting him to take over at this point, I was to be disappointed, because he simply smiled at me, and said, 'As it's her first night, I don't think she can choose her own instrument of punishment. You must use the crop on her.'

I was aghast. 'You mean I have to punish her!' I cried, 'But I can't – please don't make me do that.'

'Oh yes you can, Pet.'

He was already preparing the little brunette for her punishment as he spoke. 'Undress,' he ordered her, and she stepped out of her skirt and unbuttoned the blouse, revealing small, firm tits, with hard pointed tips. She was trying almost reflexively, to cover herself up, and Sergio pulled her hands away, leading her to the middle of the floor.

'Kneel,' he ordered her, and she got down on the parquet floor, squatting on her haunches.

'No,' said Sergio, quite harshly, 'kneel up, and put your hands behind your head. If you can't keep still, we shall have to have you tied up, and I don't like to do that on your first night.'

Mai was trembling visibly as I fetched the riding crop from the tray on the shelf nearby and showed it to her, running it around her shoulders.

As I did so, I noticed that Emma was now standing with Marta and Mario, who was fondling her buttocks, his hand through the opening in her dress, but his eyes watching with interest what was happening to Mai.

Sergio came around in front of Mai and said, 'As it's your first time, Renata will go easy on you, and you will receive only ten strokes. Please count them down from ten. But tell me now if you don't want this to happen to you. Do you want to be whipped?'

'Yes,' she said, in a small voice.

'I didn't hear that,' said Sergio.

'Yes, please,' she said, firmly, and he nodded to me.

I stepped up and raised the crop. 'Swish' – it fell neatly across her back, bringing a sharp little cry, then 'Ten.'

'Harder,' said Sergio, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Marta was unclipping the silver fasteners on Emma's dress, running her elegantly manicured hands down the blonde's statuesque curves, as she pushed the dress aside.

'Swish' I struck harder, and harder, and was now leaving red stripes across the little Asian girl's back and buttocks. She was crying out with each stinging blow, and Sergio made me stop at five so that he could feel to ascertain if the whipping was giving her pleasure as well as pain. He pronounced her wet, and told me to carry on.