Procured Ch. 05

Next morning, however, she looked a little brighter, dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt, though her hair was the same mess as the previous night, and she wore no make-up. Regarding her over breakfast, I thought she was basically pretty, and much could be done for her with a visit to the hairdresser and some attention in general. When she had finished her coffee and toast, Sandra said, 'Look, Cindy, Mark is at work, and I'll be busy, but Katia is going shopping, to the local commercial centre. Perhaps you'd like to go with her?'

'OK,' she replied, without enthusiasm, then fell silent.

A while later, Katia was ready to go, dressed in a dark blue pleated miniskirt and a peasant blouse, her long shapely legs clad in shiny black nylon, strappy stilettos on her feet. Cindy got up obediently to join her, and I marvelled again at the contrast between two young girls, finding myself imagining Cindy transformed – could she be?

Cindy got languidly to her feet, looking Katia up and down, an expression of disdain on her face, and followed her out of the door. I looked at Sandra, and she sighed, spreading her arms in a gesture of helplessness.

But I think it's time I let Cindy herself pick up the narrative:-

CINDY'S STORY.

I guess I was a 'little girl lost' that morning – my chief thought being; 'Fuck, what have I gotten myself into?' Still feeling a bit woozy from jet-lag, which I'd read about but never before experienced, my body wasn't too sure whether it was lunchtime or whatever. And I had agreed to go shopping with this incredibly beautiful whore!

Looking back over the last weeks, I could just as easily have stayed in Canada, getting some kind of job in a store or something, and finding someplace to live, perhaps share with one of my friends, but when my Dad and that bitch split up, he had suggested I come over – and that was that.

But Sandra's house – well, that was something else! I'd never seen anything like the scene I had witnessed the night before, then Sandra just came out and told me that Katia was a 'slave.' What the fuck was that all about? I had been upset, I supposed, the night before, but I woke up feeling a bit different. Different, how? Excited? Well, perhaps a bit. Curious? Sure.

I followed the blonde chick's legs down the garden path – her legs were something, I had to say – and felt a twinge of…of what? Envy? No, not really – I had good legs anyway, I thought. No, I decided, it was just that I was dressed in what I'd always thought was a normal way – and…..and, well, just get an eyeful of her!

And, as we walked along to the bus-stop, that's just what a lot of guys did, you couldn't help noticing.

Her English was a bit strange, and she had difficulty, I thought, with my Canadian accent, but she seemed nice enough, and we managed to talk OK, mainly about the weather, slow bus-rides – stuff like that.

'Do we need a trolley,' I asked her, at the main entrance of the big Commercial Centre.

'No,' she replied, 'Sandra does all the food shopping by Internet. I'm just buying clothes and things.'

If she's a slave, I thought to myself, it's not such a bad life – she gets to go shopping for 'clothes and things,' and doesn't have to trail around the supermarket. The whole thing mystified me.

We went up an escalator to a level where all the good shops seemed to be, and I followed Katia as she inspected lots of dresses and so forth. Eventually, in one shop, she found a minidress she liked – a backless, halter-necked creation made of some silky material. She went into a tiny cubicle to try it on, while I sat outside on a bench. After a few moments, she emerged, wearing the dress. It looked wonderful on her.

'How do I look?' she asked, and twirled around, showing me her rear view. My gaze fell upon an insignia featuring entwined letters, S and M, now visible on her lower back. At first glance I thought it was a tattoo, but I took her arm, holding her still, and realised that it was scored deeply into her flesh, a brand!

'Fuck,' I said, Touching the brand gently, in case it was sore, 'They did this to you?'

'Yes,' she said, 'I'm very proud of it. But do you think I should buy the dress?'

'Yes, of course,' I muttered, almost too stunned by her obvious acceptance of what must have hurt terribly to reply. And while she had her back to me, I also saw a ladder of fading red stripes on her graceful straight back. If I didn't know better, I thought, she's been whipped!

It took me a while to recover, as we walked from store to store, but after a while, Katia said to me, 'Don't you need any clothes?'

'I don't wear dresses and stuff,' I replied, 'and I've got lots of trousers and tops.'

'That's a shame,' said Katia, 'you are very pretty.'

I looked at her to see if she was taking the piss, but her face was deadly serious.

'You ought to wear nice things,' she was saying, 'and let me do your hair.'

Just then, we passed a shop 'Closed for remodelling,' and I saw our reflections in the darkened window. I had to admit there was a bit of a difference. Katia, startlingly blonde and immaculate in her pleated skirt, white stockings and staggeringly high heels, her breasts jiggling under a sky-blue silk blouse – and me, mousy, straggly hair, Ottawa University t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. She had a point.

'Let me get over the first few days,' I said, 'then we'll see.'

Back home, Katia showed Sandra the dress she had bought, as well as a pair of shoes, which had heels I couldn't imagine walking in, and some costume jewellery.

After approving of Katia's purchases, Sandra came over to where I had sat down in an armchair, and sat on the arm.

'And how was your morning, Cindy?' she asked.

Curious as hell, I wanted to ask her about Katia's brand, but didn't know how to begin.

'Fine,' I replied, 'there are some nice stores.'

'Did you buy anything?' asked Sandra.

'No,' I said, 'I don't really need anything.'

'Well, lunch will be ready in about an hour. I suppose you'll want to go and freshen up?'

'OK,' I said, and went up to my room. I didn't want to 'freshen up' – but I did want to think. The sight of Katia's brand, and the all-too-clear signs that she had been whipped, coupled with her evident contentment, had combined to set my mind racing. I examined my own thoughts, because never in my life had I encountered anything of the sort. I wasn't a virgin – hadn't been since I was fifteen – and didn't consider myself a prude, but, although I knew that many people got their kicks in different ways, I had never before encountered a real-live….. submissive? Was that what you called them?

I had to admit to myself that I was more than just curious. I was, I had to admit, excited.

A shower might help calm me down, I thought, and quickly stripped off, and stepped into my little shower-cubicle.

As the jets deluged down on me, I shampooed my hair, but, as I rinsed off the suds, my hand wandered involuntarily to my pussy, parting my labia, and finding my clit already emerged from its secret hiding place. With my other hand I turned off the water, and gave in to an impromptu masturbation, which made my knees virtually give way, as I came, in record time, a nice, fulminating orgasm, that left me crumpled against the wall of the shower, legs like jelly. I realised I had been picturing Katia as my climax approached, and, as I dried my hair, wondered if I had lesbian tendencies I had never suspected. No, not really, I decided – it was the sexually-charged atmosphere around her, and I remembered the brief view I had had the night before, of the three of them together on the sofa – and Mark was fanciable, after all!

I tried my best with my hair. At least it was clean now, but it certainly needed a bit of care and attention.

I stopped and thought, as I was applying a smear of lipstick for the first time in ages – what was I trying to do? Compete with Katia? I grimaced at the mirror. Not bad bone structure, or body, for sure, but I had no eye make-up, and as for clothes – forget it! I rejected the idea of putting on my one and only skirt – I had no shoes to wear with a skirt - and went down to lunch in my jeans and t-shirt.

We ate a nice lunch that Sandra had prepared. She had said, last night, 'Katia is our slave,' but it was Sandra who did the cooking while Katia was out shopping! Funny sort of slavery, I mused.

It all seemed a bit more logical when Sandra asked Katia to clear the table and do the dishes, and Sandra and I sat down to watch television.

At length, she said to me, 'Cindy, I know your Dad gave you some money to tide you over, but do you want me to help you find a job? No hurry, of course, but it might not be that easy.'

'I guess I'll start looking at the papers,' I said, 'but I just want to get used to being here

for a while.'

Sandra looked at me as if she was about to say something, then looked back to the television, but I sensed it might be a good time, and said, 'You told me last night that Katia is your slave. She seems…. happy with her….er-status.'

'Yes,' she said, 'I think she is. I'll have to tell you more, as you're going to live with us. It's just that I really don't know where to start, or if you'll understand.'

'Try me,' I told her, and Sandra got up and came over to sit next to me, then immediately sprang up and called to Katia from the doorway.

'Katia, darling,' she said, 'be a love and go fetch me some Tampax from the chemist's.'

She came back, and said, 'There, we'll be on our own for a while.'

She then started to talk, telling me how she had 'procured' Katia, initially as a kind of plaything for Mark, but that she had changed their lives – launched them on a sexual adventure which she hoped would continue for a long time. She told me about their friends Lucy and Jimmy, and how they frequently had exchanges, about how Katia had returned to Romania and come back with a slave for their friends.

'And you had her branded, like a steer?' I couldn't resist asking.

'Yes, have you seen it then?'

'She said she was proud of it.'

'She's such a darling, and lives for the days when we punish her,' said Sandra.

I shook my head in partial disbelief. 'Partial,' because I had seen the evidence on Katia's slim body, and because I had developed, in no time at all, a certain fascination for what I now knew was going on. But Sandra mistook my gesture for disapproval, and said, 'Look, Cindy, nobody's going to ask you to join in with our….activities. Your life's your own – but you should know what we get up to, that's all.'

'I'm absolutely fascinated,' I heard myself say, 'and I think Katia's lovely.'

We fell silent at that, and watched an old film for a while, then Sandra suddenly got up and consulted a slim book that was on the sideboard.

'I suddenly remembered,' she said, 'we've invited Lucy, Jimmy and their girl, Nadia, to dinner. And my diary tells me it's tomorrow night.'

'I'll go out somewhere,' I offered.

'No, no,' said Sandra, 'you are, of course, invited. You're one of the family. It's just that I don't want you to be embarrassed by us. Look, you can please yourself – and I mean that – either stay up in your room and watch the telly, or join us for dinner. It's up to you, darling. Only thing is, you'll want something to wear. I imagine your wardrobe doesn't run to an evening gown, am I right?'

I grinned, 'You're absolutely right.'

So off you go to the shops again tomorrow morning – and I'm buying!'

She waved aside my protests, saying that I shouldn't need a dress if it were not for their dinner party. At that moment, Katia returned, and we returned to watching the film.

As the film went on, my attention wandered, and I found myself thinking about my situation. I had been on the point of saying that I preferred staying in my room to their dinner party, but something got the better of me. Curiosity? Probably, but something about their lifestyle – the two sexy couples with their 'slaves,' was intriguing, and I could hardly wait to meet their friends.

Next morning, then, I was back amongst the stores, this time with Sandra, who had brought me in her car. We went from store to store, Sandra continually rejecting dresses I thought worth trying, until we left the Commercial Centre, and I was taken to a small boutique that Sandra said was certain to have something for me. And so it proved. The young assistant wheeled out a whole rack of long evening gowns, and Sandra flickd through them until she found one to her liking.

'I think you should try this on,' she said, holding up a white garment which had a silky look, 'come on!'

I was embarrassed taking off my clothes in the dressing room, in front of my aunt, but stripped down to bra and panties.

'You'll have to wear this dress without those,' said Sandra, but understanding my feelings, added, 'but you may as well try it on over them.'

When I slipped the gown over my head, I saw what she meant. It was a long white high-necked sheath, each side of which was open, the three inch wide openings held together by three sets of narrow black ribbons, which would draw attention to the openings, and, of course, to what the wearer had on, or didn't have on, beneath. The material was, I thought, frighteningly flimsy. But I frequently went without a bra, especially in summer, and wasn't too worried about my nipples sticking out, but I felt sure my dark bush would be visible if I went without panties.

But Sandra had already made up her mind.

'I'll take it,' she said.

By the time we got home, she had bought me a cotton print button-through dress, a pair of shoes I thought I'd never be able to wear, and a miniskirt and blouse, and wouldn't hear of me spending my own money.

'We won't worry about accessories,' she said, 'I've got lots and lots of things.'

Sandra had been very sweet, and, at lunch, made another suggestion.

'Cindy, my dear, will you let Katia help you get ready for this evening?'

'Sandra,' I said, 'I'm a big girl now, I can get ready myself .'

'I know, darling, but wwe all need a little help sometimes, and I really want to show you off to my friends. I think you're really very pretty, even if you do your best to hide it.'

'Do you really think I'm pretty?' I asked – nobody had ever said as much, even my old boyfriend, Rob.

'Yes, darling, I think you are. You have a lovely young body, and a nice face, and Katia will help you make the most of it. She herself looked quite plain when she first arrived.'

I found that hard to belive, looking at the slim blonde, who had just come in from the kitchen, and stood there in her black pleated miniskirt and patterned black hose, perched on the amazingly high patent stilettos she seemed to have no problem with.

After lunch, Katia came up to my room with me, and sat on my bed while I took a shower. When I emerged, wrapped in a big fluffy towel, she smiled at me.

'You don't need to cover yourself, Cindy,' she said, but I left the towel where it was and sat beside her.

'You must understand,' I said, 'I've never been one to show myself. I'm frightened to death of wearing the dress Sandra bought for me – it's so revealing.'

'Let's have a look at it,' said Katia.

I took it out of the wardrobe and held it up for her, and she took the material between thumb and forefinger.

'It's lovely,' was her verdict, 'but you can't wear anything under it, can you?'

'My bush will show,' I protested.

'Then let me shave you,' said Katia.

'Oh fuck,' I exclaimed, 'but I've never shaved there, in my life!'

'There's a first time for everything – isn't that what you say in English?'

I sat obediently on the plastic stool in the bathroom, while Katia took the canister of foam which, along with two razors, had myteriously appeared in my bathroom cabinet, and, getting me to open my legs, foamed not only my mound, but all over my pussy, and even up my crack and around my asshole. Then she started to shave, expertly.

'You've done this before,' I said.

For an answer, she flipped up the hem of her tiny skirt, and showed me her clean-shaven, neat pussy, below an equally hairless mound.

'No panties!' I remarked.

'No, never,' she replied, and I looked to see if she was kidding, but there was no trace of it on her lovely face. I was beginning to like her a lot, but could scarcely believe that there I was, letting another woman, I had known for less than two days, shave my pubes.

When my mound was clear of every scrap of hair, she worked delicately around my labia, gently pulling them out of the way of her razor-strokes, and I found myself breathing just a little more quickly.

'You are quite wet,' said Katia, and smiled up at me. I noticed for the first time, that she had a tongue-piercing, and thought briefly how it would feel to be kissed by her, or – dangerous thought, this – to have her lick my pussy. I couldn't remember ever having had these thoughts about another woman.

But she was asking me to sit up to the edge of the stool, so that she could work right up to my asshole, and I did as she wanted. When she had finished, and taken off the excess foam with a towel, she went and fetched a hand mirror from my dressing table, and showed me her handiwork – I thought I looked like a ten year-old girl, but somehow quite pretty.

After putting soothing oil all over my mound, and around my pussy, Katia pronounced herself happy with the result – 'but you must keep it clean-shaven,' she cautioned me, 'or it will itch.' Her action, I mused, had drawn us together, and I could no longer keep secrets from Katia. I thanked her.

'Have a rest now, and I'll go and do the same, then I'll come and do your hair later, ready for tonight,' the Romanian girl said.

'You can stay here with me, if you like,' someone said – it must have been me!

'I'd like that,' she said, simply.

I slipped into a short silk robe I had found behind my bathroom door, and went to turn back the sheets, and get into bed. To my surprise, Katia had stripped naked, and slid her slim body in beside me, glints of a silver chain showing briefly between her legs, and a pretty decoration more obvious as it dangled from her navel. I ached to touch her, but lay rigidly still, my back to her, not daring to do so. After a while, though, I felt her hand stroking my hair, and half-turned towards her, reaching to take her hand in mine. No word passed between us, but I slowly rolled over to face her, looking at her in the half-light which penetrated the drawn drapes. She was smiling, and again I saw the stud, flicking out from between her white teeth like a snake's forked tongue. Crossing a line I had never thought to traverse, I leaned in and kissed her tentatively, then pulled away to look for her reaction. I felt her arm snake around my neck, and, suddenly, we were kissing with abandon, her studded tongue clicking against my teeth as it explored my mouth, our tongues thrusting, entwining. I moved in closer, feeling our breasts touching, then sought her firm ones with my hand, encountering a hard little nipple, and drawing a nice little moan from deep in Katia's throat. A long leg was thrown over me, entrapping me – and I had never want to be captured so much in my life.

'This is all very new for me,' I breathed in her ear, stroking back her lovely fine hair.

'I know,' she said, 'but you like this, yes?'

'Oh yes,' I replied, as her hand ran across my freshly-shaven mound, sought my pussy.

My hormones were doing a tap-dance, after many months of abstenance – my affair with Rob had come to an abrupt end when I found that he was two-timing me.