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Sylvia’s Switch Ch. 04

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We arrived back in Madrid, complete with a nervous but excited Paloma, and were met by my mistress’s chauffeuse, Lola, with the Mercedes. Lola’s face was transformed from its habitual taciturn expression when she saw her mistress, and her flashing smile made me realise she was much prettier than I had given her credit for.

Adela was waiting by the door when we arrived, and kissed Susana and myself enthusiastically, but when my mistress presented Paloma, who had been lurking behind, to her, she greeted her coldly, and turned away almost disdainfully after shaking her hand briefly. My mistress pretended not to notice, simply asking Adela briskly to find Paloma two sets of uniform. Then she turned to me and said, ‘Come on, darling, I’m sure you need to freshen up.’

As I left her at the door of my room, she said quietly, ‘Poor Adela is a jealous girl, and it will take her some time to get used to sharing with Paloma. Can you take Paloma under your wing for a couple of days, while I get Adela used to the idea?’

‘Of course, mistress!’ I said, not at all upset by the thought of spending time with the pretty Mexican girl.

I took my time showering and making up, then, glancing at my watch, realised I had to get a move on and dress for dinner, something Susana always insisted on, and which I now regarded as a pleasant ritual. I chose, for our first night at home for some time, a dress I knew my mistress liked to see me in, a long cream silk halter-neck gown, with a loose backless top, so that my breasts jiggled suggestively as I walked, though walking was restricted by the tightness of the skirt, into which I had to wriggle. I stepped into Lucite stilettos, and put in a pair of long silver pendant ear-rings before brushing my long auburn hair until it shone.

At dinner, Adela seemed to have forgotten her sulkiness, and Mistress Susana went out of her way to thank her after each serving, then beckoned to her and whispered to her as we sat over coffee. Adela said, ‘Sí, señora,’ at least four times, first enthusiastically, then, I thought, uncertainly then rather doubtfully, then she was gone, looking back once over her shoulder, her heels clicking on the parquet floor, as her long, black-stockinged legs under the tiny miniskirt carried her back to the kitchen.

When the maid had left Susana said to me, ‘I told her to come to my room after coffee. Then I told her she would be punished for her sullen attitude. I’d like you to bring Paloma to see me punish her.’

‘Yes mistress,’ I said

‘Then you can take Paloma to bed with you, if you like. You’d like that, my dear, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yes mistress.’ I had a distinct feeling she was teasing me, as she wore a half-smile, as if she knew that what I really wanted was to go to bed with her. And I did – a I looked at my lovely mistress’s elegant, slim body, tightly cinched that night in a black velvet cocktail dress, her slender legs encased in shiny seamed black nylons, I wanted her more than life itself, wanted her to take me in her arms, fondle me, do what she would with me, take me in any way she wanted.

She gave a deliberate little tug at the ring in my collar – her collar – that I always wore, as if to reassure me that I was hers, and I called for Paloma.

The Mexican girl appeared almost immediately, and curtsied nervously. I thought she looked sweet in her new black mini-dress and frilly white apron, her shapely legs looking good in black fishnet stockings, but my mistress regarded her critically, and rapped sharply, ‘¡Levantete la faldita!’ – raise your skirt! Paloma hesitantly obeyed, revealing a small expanse of pale leg above the lace tops of her stockings, and brief black panties.

Susana, had picked up a fly-swat that was lying on the table beside her, and with it, she indicated the waistband of Paloma’s panties, looking wordlessly at the girl’s pretty face. Paloma caught on and hooking her thumbs under the waistband, wriggled out of the tight panties. She had a black bush, which she had made some effort to trim, probably for wearing a swimsuit, but which was still luxuriant.

‘You can take that off for her – it’s revolting!’ Susana told me, ‘And panties are not worn here. She will have to learn.’

With a casual wave of the fly-whisk, she dismissed us, and I took Paloma by the hand and led her to my room.

My Spanish was, by now, good enough to make myself understood, and I told her to go into my bathroom and take off her clothes. While she was doing so, I slipped out of my dress, and into a short silk slip.

Back in the bathroom, Paloma was sitting on a plastic stool, looking nervous, when I entered. I took a plastic razor from a six-pack in my cabinet, and a big canister of foam. I told her to sit still, her legs open, on the edge of the stool, and she complied meekly, looking at me trustingly with her huge brown eyes as I lathered her bush thoroughly and started to shave. I asked her if she had ever been shaved before, and she shook her head no. When I had her mound completely aksaray escort smooth, it looked lovely, and I got her to shuffle forward so that I could lift one foot up onto the side of the bath, thus exposing her crack, which was still very hairy. Carefully, I removed every vestige of hair from around her labia. It wasn’t difficult, because she had a very neat pussy, her labia almost hidden, so that I had to probe within to gain access to the glistening pink treasure of her cunt, opening her up with two fingers, which drew a short gasp from her lips.

She liked that, it was clear, but I had still to clean the little hairs from around the tiny puckered hole of her anus, and make sure she was completely devoid of all the hair my mistress objected to.

I was pleased with the finished result, and soothed the whole area around her sweet pussy with oil, massaging it into her pores, causing her almost to purr as I did so. Whilst I did this I noticed her body as never before. She had small tits, but prominent, brown aureola, with long nipples, which had hardened perceptibly when I was working around her pussy. Her waist was trim and slender, and her hips were, if anything, a trifle too narrow, her legs also slender. Although on the small side, she was, I thought, decidedly cute.

I had finished my work with the new maid, but she sat expectantly on the stool, watching me put away the shaving gear, as if awaiting some new experience. My heart went out to her, looking so innocent and fresh, and I held my hand out to her and helped her up from the stool. Back in my bedroom, I rummaged in an untidy drawer, looking for a slip identical to the one I was wearing. As I bent over the drawer, Paloma was perched on the edge of my bed, watching me intently, and she said something I failed to understand. Just then I found what I was looking for, and when I turned around, the maid explained that she was fascinated by my clit-ring. She had seen it before, of course, when I had been ritually dressed in Mexico, but seeing me bent over the drawer in my short slip had reminded her of it.

I told her that she could have one fitted, and that the mistress would be very pleased if she did, and she seemed to like the idea, but wanted to know if it hurt. I reassured her on the point, and then tried to explain to her something of the importance of pain and its role in fulfilment. I couldn’t tell if I was successful or not, but some of my efforts at complicated Spanish made her laugh, and we ended up in fits of the giggles.

I pulled her to me and kissed her then, and put a stop to her giggling, letting her have a taste of a new tongue-stud I had bought at the airport on our return journey. Unlike the usual dumbbell affair, this was a neat little decorative jewel, which sat tight to my tongue, and made me aware of its presence constantly. She gasped as she felt it rasp against her own tongue, and slid her body sensuously up to me, silk against silk, as I reached an arm around her neck and pulled her gently into a soft and tender embrace. I wondered at that moment what I had ever seen in men, and had to pull away momentarily to look into Paloma’s dark, beautiful eyes, with their long, curving lashes, before plunging deeply into another hungry kiss.

When I fingered a nipple through the thin silk, she started, and then moaned, as I felt the knob harden instantly, and grow to twice its length, its aureole seeming to swell on the base of her firm little breast. I had never felt such thrilling breasts, and the very touch of them set my own juices to well up within me, anticipating the joy of our lovemaking.

I traced the swell of her buttock around the hem of her slip, slowly moving over her flat belly, to the newly shaved smoothness of her mound, and down to tease open her labia’s secret. She gasped as I wriggled a long-nailed finger tenderly in between her outer lips, seeking the entrance to her inner glories, but looking at me with slightly hooded eyelids, she started to part her slender legs to accommodate me. I made her wait, moving her aside, and sat apart from her on the bed, parting my own legs, without taking off my slip. When I saw her starting to pull hers off, I stopped her – there was something infinitely more exciting about making love partly clothed. I put both hands between my legs, and slowly parted my sex-lips, knowing that my decorated clit would swell and burgeon forth, and the glistening pink treasure of my moist cunt would be a pretty sight. Then I lewdly opened up my fuckhole, prising apart my inner lips to display the very depths of my pulsing vagina in ll its erotic glory. I asked Paloma if she liked what she saw, and followed up my question by flicking my tongue out between parted lips.

I neither expected nor received an answer, and simply gestured for the maid to flip around into a ’69’ position. She accomplished this with agility, and I was presented with her neat slit, which I prised open, and buried my tongue instantly in her pink pussy. She moaned as anadolu yakası escort if wounded when she felt my stud flicking at her clitoris, and it was clear I was driving her rapidly towards an orgasm, as her breaths came in short spasms, and she squirmed and writhed above me, her own tongue darting in and out of my wet cunt.

I what I guessed would be a new experience for her, I rammed a forefinger straight into the depths of her arsehole, and she screamed in a glorious mixture of pain and pleasure, as she flooded my face with her juice, and bucked her hips, while I held her down hard. She got the message when she came down to earth, and returned the complement, inserting first one, then two, then three fingers, deep into my own anus, and surprisingly quickly I finally knew the release of a delicious climax.

We slept that night in each others’ arms, cosy and close. When we awoke, it was daylight already, and Paloma panicked as she knew she had to be preparing breakfast, but I called down to the kitchen, and Lola was filling in efficiently, and said she didn’t need to hurry.

When she emerged from the shower, she shyly asked me if she might speak, as if she needed permission. I smiled encouragement, and she asked me, in an awkward, roundabout way, if it was ‘normal’ that she had felt intense pleasure when I had invaded her anal passage the night before. I took her by the hand and kissed her, and made her sit beside me, and then found the first butt-plug I had ever been given by my mistress, nestling in the rear of my drawer. I got Paloma to relax, lubricated the plug, then worked it as gently as I could up inside her, until only the silver flange was left, flush with her arse.

‘¡Madre mía como duele – es muy incomodo!’ she exclaimed – ‘how it hurts, it’s very uncomfortable!’

I told her she would soon be used to it, and that we should then change it for larger models, and smiled to myself when I envisioned the monster bulb-dildo that excited me beyond belief when I thrust it up past my own sphincter. The image was all connected to my mistress, and her ‘training’ of me, and I absently dismissed Paloma, going into a reverie about my own feelings. The night’s coupling with the young maid had only served to set my appetite on edge, and I now needed my mistress’s attention more than ever. I thought of going to her room, but knew she had been with Adela. I wasn’t jealous, certainly not of Adela, anyway, but it had been several nights and a whole ocean since I had spent time with my mistress, and I needed her to tell me things that only she could. Above all, I needed her to take possession of my body, even humiliate me, so that I could truly be hers. I fingered her collar around my neck, sighed and went about doing a careful job of my make-up.

I slipped into a short, soft, silky dress that I knew she liked to see me in. It was gunmetal grey, and cut simply, so that it fell from my breasts to mid-thigh, flowing liquidly around me as I walked. Apart from the dress I wore only a pair of silver sandals, but, as an afterthought, I remembered to clip fine gold chains around my waist and ankle, and to tag a little weighted gold charm onto my clit-ring. My hair I left loose and free.

My heart leapt when my mistress congratulated me on my appearance, and I was doubly pleased when she announced that she was taking me out that morning, though she wouldn’t say where – Susana loved to preserve an air of mystery.

Lola dropped us outside a smart coffee bar in an exclusive part of the city, and my mistress, dressed in a short, skin-tight black cocktail dress and patent stilettos, waited for me to open her door and hand her out of the car, smiling nonetheless. I felt wonderfully naked and vulnerable under my short, loose, silky dress, as I entered the place, and reflected that there was no more exciting feeling than to be naked and shaven under a short skirt in a public place. Women sometimes say they wear miniskirts and other revealing clothes ‘because it gives them a sense of freedom’ – who are they trying to kid?

We were greeted at the door by a supremely elegant blonde in her mid thirties, her long hair falling in soft cascades around her beautiful face, her full lips smiling and showing the glint of a tiny diamond set into one of her front teeth, a detail which I found fascinating. She wore a bottle green dress which might have been Versace, open down to her tiny waist. Her nipples thrust at the material in a way which made them impossible to ignore. When she offered her long-fingered hand, she had impossibly long green-painted nails, and a multiplicity of rings, none of which were cheap.

My mistress introduced her as Davinia, and they spoke English for my benefit, even though I was now fairly fluent in Spanish. When we were seated, Davinia went to get us coffee and cakes.

My mistress said, ‘Tell me honestly, Sylvia, what do you think of Davinia?’

Hesitantly, not knowing why she had asked me, I said, ‘I think she is absolutely gorgeous.’

‘Good,’ ataköy escort said Susana, ‘because I have told her that I would bring you for her.’

‘But……but….mistress – I don’t understand. I am yours! I…I…’

‘Your loyalty is touching, my dear, but it is decided,’ she said, and patted my knee, ‘enjoy your coffee!’

My coffee tasted bitter, and I was in a state of turmoil, as I didn’t know what was going on there. My cup shook as I put it down, then I saw that Davinia was whispering in Susana’s ear.

‘Come,’ said my mistress, standing, and smoothing her dress, ‘Davinia is leaving her two assistants in charge of the bar, and we are going upstairs with her.’

My mind in a whirl, I followed Susana and Davinia up a narrow staircase, through a door, and into a surprisingly elegant apartment, furnished in Regency style, with high ceilings, Persian carpets and striped drapes. She led us straight through to a large bedroom, which had an enormous four-poster bed and two big silk-upholstered couches.

The curtains were closed, and the light was subdued in the room.

Davinia went to a console and put on some music. I recognised the voice of Isobel Boulay. My mistress, meantime, lounged on one of the couches, and said quietly to me, ‘Why don’t you dance with Davinia?’

Although it seemed a strange time of day to be dancing, Davinia was swaying to the music, and did look extremely sexy – irresistible, even. I moved out in front of her and swayed in time with her and her eyelids hooded sensuously as she watched. Suddenly I was aware that my mistress was behind me, and had lifted the hem of my dress, slowly, slowly, while watching Davinia’s reaction over my shoulder, showing her friend my upper thighs, then my naked pussy, the little weighted fob dangling from my clit, which was now tingling in anticipation.

Davinia pulled aside the two halves of the top of her dress, and moved closer to me. She had perfect breasts, the nipples swollen, and hard when I reached out and touched them tentatively. I looked around at Susana, and she nodded what I took to be her permission.

I kneaded Davinia’s lovely breasts and she moaned, and moved in closer, until our breasts touched, She kissed me, and I speared my tongue into her mouth, letting her have a feel of my new stud, grazing it against her tongue and hearing her tiny gasp of pleasure.

She now enfolded me into an embrace, and our bodies moulded, but that was when I got a tremendous surprise. For boring into my belly was an enormous, genuine erection! I just couldn’t believe it, and pushed her away, my hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes; where there were emotions I couldn’t begin to read.

My mistress’s hand was on my own shoulder.

‘Davinia is as much a woman as you or I,’ she said, and, moving around between us, she whisked the blonde’s skirt up to reveal an erect cock, which she stroked lovingly, as she looked from Davinia to me.

‘Let her fuck you, my Sylvia,’ she said, and guided me back gently to the bed, where I sat obligingly back and allowed my mistress to spread my legs apart, now resigned to being penetrated by this strange member.

It wasn’t at all like my now distant memory of being fucked by a man. The heady scent of woman came with Davinia as she rose above me, and her lovely mane of blonde hair fell across me as her breasts, now more pendulous as she was above me, were an invitation to be toyed with. But she penetrated me as surely and hard as any dildo, surging into my wet, open cunt, which the erotic circumstances had prepared in a way I could never have predicted. She drove into me and pumped hard for what seemed an age. It was, I thought afterwards, strange to feel the sensation of a real live, hot prick inside me again, and not altogether unwelcome, especially as I didn’t have to endure a smelly, sweating, hairy man to go with it! I came, a sweet, swelling orgasm, while my mistress, beside me on the bed, stroked me and kissed me, and kissed her strange, shemale friend alternately. Eventually Davinia’s whole, feminine body stiffened, but I had no sense that she had cum, and when she left me, her erection now diminished, and went to the bathroom, Susana explained to me that she ‘couldn’t cum in any normal way, poor thing.’

But when she returned to the bedroom, she was smiling, wrapped in an ornate silk kimono, which revealed no sign of her being other than a normal woman – and an extraordinarily beautiful one, at that.

‘Thank you, Sylvia,’ she said, ‘you have free coffee and cakes for life!’ It wasn’t clear if she was joking or not.

Much later, after a morning’s shopping with my mistress, during which she made no further mention of our meeting with her hermaphrodite friend, we returned home, where Adela and Paloma served us with a nice lunch. They seemed to be getting along well enough, and when I told Paloma to show Susana her butt-plug, she obligingly raised her little black skirt so that my mistress could see the silver-plated flange protruding from her anus. My mistress nodded her approval, then, when Paloma had gone about her business, said to me, ‘You did well, my dear – it’s good to see her nicely shaved as well. She must have a bigger plug fitted tomorrow, and we should think about having her pierced, don’t you think?’

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