Renata's Vacation Ch. 07

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Renata and Eva take a break, and tour Europe.
11.9k words
4.71
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Part 7 of the 7 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 04/02/2006
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Calandria
Calandria
336 Followers

This fantasy makes more sense if you've read the other six parts first. All my characters are over 18, and so should you be! Sado-masochism is a strong thread running through some of my stories, which are hopefully not over-crude, and tend to emphasise the dominance inferred upon the receiver of the punishment.

Three months had passed by since Naomi's initiation a tour club, and our team had settled down into a routine, with Ursula handling the most extreme clients, although each of the girls tended to be the favourite of certain clients, Inge and Eva being particularly popular. Naomi took care of what we called 'volume traffic' – sometimes coping with as many as four clients in an evening, whilst Amity, Martina and I tended to concentrate on the clients from 'good families' – who could, however, be quite bestial in their tastes. There were times when I tired of their incessant cruelty, and longed for some tenderness – then I sought some feminine pleasure in the company of Eva, or the insatiable Naomi – but usually I revelled in the whippings I received, often having to try and conceal the fact that I had cum before the client had had the chance to fuck me. More often than not – and the other girls, Ursula especially, confirmed this – the clients were far too lenient, afraid of damaging our tender flesh, however much we begged them to hurt us.

Things were very quiet, between seasons, and I decided to take a holiday. I spoke with Doña Francisca at headquarters.

'Of course, darling,' she said, 'of course you must have a holiday, and why not take one of the girls with you for company? Sergio can take charge for a couple of weeks.'

I had, of course, thought of going away with Sergio, but realised that it would have been impractical to leave the club with no-one in charge – Martina wasn't really ready yet.

My parents had sent me lots of emails asking when I was thinking of coming home, and I had kept stalling them. But the idea of spending a fortnight with them...........! I decided on a compromise, and put it to Eva, who was due to a holiday.

'What do you say we do a little tour together? Would you like that?' I asked her.

She agreed readily, even when I told her that we were going to start off at my parents' home near London for two nights. For the rest of the fortnight, I availed myself of the addresses of clubs faxed to me by Doña Francisca, where I thought I might pick up some tips which would be useful.

Eva was very excited as Sergio drove us to Almería airport. She had never flown before, and had needed help with choosing her wardrobe for the trip. Not that I was too worried about that, as we planned to give the Club's Gold Card a bit of a hammering, and buy clothes, as well as enjoy ourselves.

When Sergio kissed us goodbye, the eyes of other men followed us – what on earth are they doing travelling without a man, they were thinking? The truth is, I thought, as we passed a mirror in the VIP departure lounge, we looked good. My long black hair shone, and I wore a tailor-made pale green shot-silk suit, the skirt so tight around my knees that I stretched it to its limit with each small step I took, which somehow enhanced the natural sway of my hips, further accentuated by my four-inch patent stilettos. Under the suit I wore a white silk blouse, and nothing else. My nipples grazed the soft silk, and, when I left my jacket undone, my breasts jiggled suggestively as I walked.

Eva's blonde tresses were also loose, and I had made sure that our relative status was clear from the way she dressed, in a pleated miniskirt, not so short as to draw undue attention to herself, but mid-thigh length. Above that I had made her put on an embroidered peasant cotton blouse. She wore, of course, no underwear either, and also had on a pair of high-heeled sandals.

When we arrived at London's Gatwick airport, Eva was agog at the size of the place, and used her minimal English to resist the advances of the man at the hire-car desk, while I was negotiating for our transport. Eventually my Gold Card won the day, and we were soon driving out into Surrey in our rented Mercedes. My parents' house seemed to have grown smaller in the six months I had been away, but my mother greeted us warmly enough when we entered the cluttered cottage.

'Your father will be home from work any time now,' she said, 'but just look at you! How do you walk in those heels? And that skirt! And where's your bra?'

My mother must have had some sort of a radar system tuned in to my apparel, I thought, and, seeing that Eva had understood, and was grinning, decided to keep the peace. I told her I was going to change into a tracksuit, and asked her to bring the suitcases in – and my mother didn't understand the exchange, of course.

However, when my mother saw Eva struggling in with one suitcase after the other, she voiced her disapproval: 'Power gone to your head, has it, now you're the boss?'

I refused to be provoked. My mother would never understand in a million years.

When my father came home, I made sure Eva and I were both dressed in tracksuits – I had to find one in an old wardrobe for Eva, causing a lot of giggling – and I managed to make our Club sound like an International Leisure Facility, whatever that meant.

My mother cooked us a superb meal, which Eva enjoyed immensely, but, when we went to bed, I said, 'I don't know if I can stand it for another day!'

Eva looked across at me in the orange light cast by the street-lamp outside, and said, 'It's only one more night. Got room in there for me?'

I lifted the corner of the duvet, and she slipped soundlessly across the floor in her black silk slip, and slid in, the length of her body so nearly matching mine. The hardness of her nipples, perched on her firm young breasts, thrust against me as she nibbled my ear-lobe, knowing what turned me on, teeth and tongue busy, busy. She thrust her flat belly up to me, and threw a slender leg over mine, as I turned my own naked body to accommodate her. I reached around her lovely round buttock with one arm, finding her moist slit, and causing her to murmur gently into my ear, 'Mmm, Miss Renata – yes!'

I traversed my fingers up and down her crack, letting them come to rest on the little nub of her clitoris. As I did that, she felt for my breasts, and my nipples hardened in time with her clit. We both started to move rhythmically as she kneaded my tits, and I worked first her clit, then plunged two fingers into her now-soaking cunt. With her other hand, she found my anus, and probed my most sensitive place, as a mist started to form in my brain, and my breathing became shallow. Suddenly, Eva had both of her hands down behind me, and one of them traced the outline of the brand burned into my buttock.

'Oh, Miss Renata,' she gasped, in a hoarse whisper, 'I'm cumming!'

My body had already been wracked by an orgasm, the moment her finger went deep into my arsehole.

'It's your mark,' said Eva, 'it does that to me. I want to have one done too.'

'We'll have to see what we can do,' I said, and fell asleep, as thoughts of my terribly painful branding brought back delicious memories of my early days at the first Club, of my first punishments by Sergio and Doña Francisca.

A chilly morning saw us sat in the kitchen, again in unaccustomed clothing of jeans and sweat-shirts, nursing steaming cups of tea. We spent the day walking the green lanes near my parents' home, Eva enjoying the cool of the English summer. When my father came home, he wanted to question me about the Mercedes I had rented, but I just told him that the company had paid the bill, and he nodded sagely.

'Best he doesn't see you in the clothes you arrived in,' my mother said, when he wasn't in the room, 'or I really don't knowwhathe'll say!' Her sour expression told me that she, too, had a low opinion of her only daughter's chosen career, and I was again grateful that we were leaving next day.

In the event, I was a little sad to leave my mother's desolate figure, stood at the door, as we got into the car early in the morning. My father had already gone to work, off to catch the 6.45 into the City, so we felt able to leave dressed in more customary fashion. I wore a knee-length pleated skirt over a garter belt, shiny stockings and patent heels, with one of my favourite white silk blouses. In deference to my mother, I had worn a bra, but it was a platform half-bra, leaving my nipples free to poke at the silk of the blouse. If my mother noticed, she didn't say. Eva wore a button-through cotton print dress, mid-thigh length, and stilettos. I knew she wore nothing else, but her breasts were so firm that the lack of a bra was never noticeable in her case.

We were bound for the West End, one of the addresses that Doña Francisca had furnished me with, but I decided to leave the rented car at Heathrow airport, as it would be useless in London. We left it with the rental company, and took a taxi to our Kensington hotel, where we installed ourselves in our suite before making for our destination.

After a quick lunch, we arrived at the Soho offices of the world's most important BDSM magazine, where the editorial team was expecting us. They were an odd mixture of people in business suits and Goth types with punk hairdos and piercings. The boss, one of the more casual-looking guys, led the discussion, telling me that they had heard a great deal about our Club, and would like to come out and do a major article about us.

'As a bit of a taster, though,' he said, 'I'd like to get some shots of you two today, for our next issue. I think that would certainly hook the readers in. How do you feel about that?'

I saw no need to translate for Eva, though she understood nothing. I saw a lot of business potential in the publicity an article would generate, so I said I thought it was a good idea. We discussed details over coffees. I asked if we needed any special clothing or make-up, and the photographer, a Goth girl with a ring through her eyebrow and orange hair, said they had everything we should need for the shoot. She ushered us down to the small dressing room. She looked us up and down, and her comment was lost on Eva, who, however, understood the whistle her magnificent body earned when she slipped out of her dress.

'Fuck, she's gorgeous,' said the girl, 'and you're pretty good yourself!'

She laid me out a black corset and thigh-length, spike-heeled boots.

'And for Eva?' I asked.

'Naked,' she replied.

'Shoes as well?'

'Yep,' she said, succinctly.

I got Eva to lace me up tight into the corset, which bit into my waist, and thrust my bare buttocks out provocatively, as well as pushing my breasts out and up, so that my nipples were above vertical.

The Goth looked me over as we emerged into the harsh lights of the studio. 'Mmmm,' she murmured, 'nice! I'm Cindy, by the way.'

Eva, not at all embarrassed by her nakedness, stepped out beside me, and Cindy swept aside a black curtain, revealing a St. Andrews Cross, like the one we had at the Club, with cuffs dangling from its extremities. Deftly, she clipped Eva into place, so that she was spread-eagled, her back to us, her arms reaching way above her head. Cindy gathered up Eva's long blonde hair and quite gently lifted it over her shoulder, brushing her breast in a manner that was hardly accidental in the process.

She smiled crookedly at me, and fetched a tray from a table nearby. It contained a variety of whips and paddles.

'What do you want me to use?' I asked, 'Eva is used to anything.'

'It doesn't matter. But the photo needs to show a real mark, if that's no problem. And one of the guys wants to watch. That OK?'

'Sure,' I said.

She picked up an intercom and spoke quietly into it, and a few seconds later, a door opened and one of the suited guys, a nice-looking young blond guy came in and sat down on a stool.

I walked up to Eva and spoke briefly to her in Spanish, telling her I had to whip her for the camera, and asking her if she minded.

'Of course not Miss Renata,' she said.

'I'll give you two with a paddle to warm you up,' I told her, and then I'll mark you with the switch.'

'Oh yes, please, Miss Renata.'

I took the thin leather paddle, and tested its weight. It made a satisfying swish through the air. I checked that Cindy was ready with her camera, and noted that the young guy sat by the side was breathing heavily as I struck Eva hard across her upper buttocks, reddening her pale flesh prettily. She squirmed just a little, but made no sound. I thrashed her again, lower down, and again and again immediately, still lower, until her whole arse was nicely red. She moaned softly.

'Ready, Cindy,' I called, 'I'm taking the switch to her now! Where do you want me to mark her? Lower back looks pretty.'

'That'll be alright,' she said.

As I reached for the long, cruel switch, I passed close to the young blond guy, and he was sweating profusely and his mouth was open. I couldn't resist patting the tented front of his trousers, drawing a groan from him.

I again approached Eva closely.

'I'm going to hurt you now, darling,' I said.

'Oh yes, please, Miss Renata,' she said, and I kissed my hand and applied it to her lips, then felt her pussy to see how damp she was. She was very wet.

I took the long switch, looked over my shoulder at Cindy, who nodded, and took aim. The instrument whistled fiercely through the air then there was a sharp crack as it came into contact with Eva's young tender flesh, bringing up an instant red wheal right across the width of her back.

'Oh, oh,' she cried, and I knew I had hurt her, but also that she was being transported to another level, a level where pain and ecstasy entwine. I looked at Cindy, and she was still taking shots, getting a record of the red line on Eva's back. When my glance took in the blond guy, he was shuffling off his stool, a dark stain forming down his trouser-leg. The sight had been too much for him!

When we were dressed again, and went back to the conference room, Cindy pronounced herself happy with the shots she had got. Once I had arranged for the team to visit us at our Club a couple of months later, I had one further item to attend to. I took the boss on one side and drew as close an approximation as I could of my brand for him, and asked him to fax it through to his associates in Frankfurt, where I knew a similar brand could be obtained for Eva.

I was secretive about what I had been doing, as we went back to the hotel, but Eva was just happy to be in London with me, and didn't press the point. I was, in any case, just a touch pissed off with her, at that moment. She had quite obviously cum when she had been whipped, without seeking my permission – a normal convention we had. She knew she would be punished for her transgression, but not how.

We dined in silence in the hotel dining room, then, back in our suite, I told Eva to dress in a pale blue Lurex mini-dress, which fitted her like a glove, showing off her slim body as if she were naked. The hem was barely four inches below her shaven pussy, and all she wore besides was a pair of stiletto-heeled sandals. I helped her brush her hair out, so that she had a golden mane down to her waist.

'You look a perfect slut!' I told her, as she completed her make-up. It was hardly fair – she looked gorgeous. 'Now go down to the hotel lobby, and pick up a man - not too young – and bring him back here!'

'But.....but, Miss Renata, I don't speak any English!'

'That, my dear, shouldn't be a problem. Now go!'

Looking back with trepidation over her shoulder, she left the room, whilst I sat, implacable, on the couch, but as soon as she had gone, I slipped out of my clothes and cinched a heavy silver chain around my waist, clipped in matching long pendant ear-rings, took care with my make-up and put on a long, transparent black negligee, preparing myself for sex. I also fished a pair of handcuffs from my bag and placed them ready. There was nothing to do now but wait.

I clicked off the television when I heard Eva using her key-card to open the door, and stood as she entered, with her conquest in tow.

'Where did you findthat?' I asked her, as she was followed by a large man in his early sixties, with a slight paunch, thinning, greying hair, and glasses, wearing an off-the-peg suit.

'You did say not too young,' she said.

'Christ, there are limits,' I told her, and realised with a shock that the man's grey eyes were moving from one to the other of us, not just looking at my almost naked body, but taking in our conversation. I somehow knew he understood Spanish, despite his entirely English appearance.

'I'll go if you want,' he said quietly, a slight Yorkshire accent evident.

There was something about his voice which arrested me, though, and I said, 'No, please, stay. Help yourself to a drink, while I deal with this young lady.'

I indicated the tray of drinks and he poured himself a Scotch while I picked up the cuffs, and caught hold of Eva by a wrist. I pulled her to the circular column which stood at the side of the two steps up to the bed-alcove, and cuffed her firmly to it, her arms behind her.

Then I sat back on the satin covers of the huge bed, spreading the negligee out beside me, and slowly parting my legs, so that the newcomer could see my pussy.

'What's your name?' I asked him.

'Stewart,' he said, ' and I don't do this kind of thing, I was just............'

'Don't talk, Stewart,' I said, 'except to tell me if you would like to fuck me.'

'I rather think I would,' he replied, slightly ironically, 'but I'd like to use your bathroom first.'

'On the right,' I said, thinking he was a cooler customer than he looked, as he disappeared through the door.

Eva wriggled about against the column to which she was bound, and pleaded with me to let her go.

'When I'm ready,' I told her, 'first you can watch for a while!'

The bathroom door opened and Stewart came in, wearing a white towelling robe he had found hanging behind the door. His hair slicked back, now without glasses, once-powerfully-muscled legs projecting below the robe, he looked different, and he regarded me hungrily, I thought, then glanced back at Eva, who was looking on resignedly, her lovely blonde hair falling around her pretty face.

I lowered a hand to my pussy, and, using the first two fingers, spread my labia, displaying the moist pinkness of my cunt. I parted my legs wider, knowing that the action resulted in a view of the mysterious dark cavern of my vagina, irresistible to a red-blooded man. I heard Eva gasp a little, also affected by the sight of my cunt.

Stewart approached the bed, and, when he was within reach, I felt for the tasselled cord of his robe, and dragged it open, revealing an impressive, circumcised erection.

'Oh, my,' I said, 'you want me, don't you, Stewart?'

I rose from my prone position, and took the tip of his slightly curved tool gently between my lips, teasing the tip with my tongue, looking up into his grey eyes, which closed in ecstasy when I took a few centimetres more of his stiff length into the softness of my mouth, sucking hard. Simultaneously, he reached down for my breasts, and kneaded them, cupping them both with a tenderness which matched my own treatment of his mature weapon. Then he wanted more, and pushed me gently back on the pillow, climbing up between my legs.

Putting his hands against the insides of my thighs, he spread my legs wider still, until my crack was completely offered to him, then he speared me, penetrating my eager, hot, waiting cunt in one mighty thrust which took him straight to the neck of my womb.

I shouted out, 'Oh, Stewart! Fuck! You are fucking great! Fuck me. Fuck me hard!'

He responded, driving in and out with a rhythm which was at the same time gentle and violent. I heard Eva moan above the groaning that both myself and Stewart shared, and felt a much-needed climax building within me. I gripped him with my vaginal muscles as its force took me by storm, and cried out, an animal noise, which I thought would be sure to make Stewart cum too.

Calandria
Calandria
336 Followers