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From: jumper30@aol.com (Jumper30)
Subject: NEW:  NEW PLATEAUS: Part 4  by Jumper  (M/F F/F spank/mild Ds)
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NEW PLATEAUS:  Part 4
by Jumper

	
	"So you've decided to accept the position?"  I asked.  The
applicant sat before my mahogany desk in the only chair  in my office, a
hard straight back chair that I assumed dug into her back and buttocks,
since it was designed that way.  Amy Roth was her name, and as she clutched
her black purse on her lap, her voice quivered with nervousness. 
	"Yes, Sir.  I've thought about it a lot," she said.  "I want the
job."  This was her third interview, and she had passed the medical exams
with flying colors.
	My clients were pleased with her qualifications, a lovely young,
woman with shapely breasts under a white blouse.  If she had followed
instructions she was braless, yes, I could see nipple prints tenting the
silk, as well as pantiless under her tight, red skirt. However, her knees
were demurely clamped together in direct violation of the rules. 
	Also in Amy's favor, was her total lack of experience in the
field.  Not that she was a virgin, as she had confessed and the doctor had
confirmed, but she had never been a professional, which was exactly what my
clients wanted.
	My clients had already approved her nude photos, which now rested
in the folder on my desk.  Not a blemish on her lovely body, and her red
pubic hair matched the hair on her head; she was a natural redhead, which
one of the Members found very desirable. 
	"Once you sign the contract, you are committed for a year,"  I
said.  "There's no backing out if things get too rough."   Actually, she
would be provided with a safety word when she got to the Mansion, so she
could "retire" any time she wanted with her $100,000 salary pro-rated to
time served, but I didn't want her to know that yet.  I was testing her
resolve.
	"I'm ready to sign," she said.  "It's a good deal, and I've
already made the
arrangements."  Which meant she'd quit her job as a sales clerk, sold her
car, put all her possessions in storage, and sublet her apartment for the
next year.  And she was right, it was a good deal.  Full medical benefits,
free room and board, and $100,000 after taxes deposited in her name today,
which would be invested and accrue dividends during her period of service. 
All she had to do was give my clients the full use of her body for the next
twelve months; she had to submit to anything they wanted, as had already
been explained during her second interview.  The only restriction: my
clients could not cause her any permanent injury or scarring.
	And there were no loopholes or traps in the contract, as I knew
since I had written it myself.  Simple arrangements, simply written, so
everyone knew exactly what they were getting and what was expected. 
Satisfaction guaranteed for all.
	I slid her contract across my desk and held out a pen.  As she
leaned forward to take it with trembling hands, I got a quick glimpse down
the front of her blouse at the spongy swells of her breasts before her
long, amber curls fell forward to hide the view.  Once her signature was on
the dotted line, I retrieved the contract and tucked it in her folder, then
dropped it in my center drawer for Sheila to deliver to the Mansion. 
	"So what happens now?"  asked Amy Roth, my clients' newest sex
slave.  Her shoulders squared as she steeled herself with resolve.
	"Your service starts now,"  I said.  "You will not speak unless
you are given permission, and you will call everyone, even house servants,
either Master or Mistress.  From now on, you will do whatever you are told
without hesitation.  If you balk, you will  be punished.  In fact you will
probably be punished on a frequent basis no matter how good you are.  My
clients enjoy that sort of thing."
	She licked her lips and swallowed, then gave a slight nod.  "Yes,
Master."  
	I smiled, then said,  "You were right to call me Master even
though I'm not a Member, but you were not given permission to speak."  I
always get them on that.  Talk as if you expect acknowledgment, and they
screw up every time, the first time.  "You must be punished."
	She blanched and her emerald eyes widened, then she looked at her
knees as if afraid to look into my face any longer, which was a justified
fear, for that requirement had been discussed during the second interview. 
Never look a Master directly in the eyes.  A good slave must always keep
her eyes downcast.  Then as if Amy remembered another rule, she suddenly
parted her legs as far as possible, providing a gap between her inner
thighs which was lost to shadows before I could see the good stuff. 
	I smiled again and said,  "Yes, and you must be punished for that
as well.  Your clock started ticking when you sat improperly in that
chair."  Amy took a deep sigh, and if possible she became even more pale.
	I pressed the button on my intercom, and Sheila's voice came
across the tiny speaker almost immediately.  I guess she was eager to get
started.  "Yes, Mr. Merrill?"  
	"Please come into my office, Ms. Butler."
	"Yes, Charles."  Then the intercom went dead, and  moments later
Sheila stepped into my office and locked the door behind her.  Sheila was a
tall, slender woman of African descent with dark, frizzy hair that misted
to her shoulders.  She wore a black, silk blouse tucked into a black, tight
skirt that ended midway down sleek, muscular thighs.  All that natural
darkness, plus the darkness of her clothing gave her an erotic, yet
formidable appearance, which was more truth than bluff. 
	Sheila's bright almond eyes gleamed with excitement, as she said,
"May I help you, sir?"  There was a lilt in her voice, and a slight mocking
when she pronounced the word "sir."  Her role as my secretary was just
that, a role.  In reality, she was a scout and trainer for the Mansion
which also contracted my services.  
	"Sheila, you've already met Amy Roth.  She has signed the
contract."  Sheila broke into a wide grin, which she quickly erased from
her face before the new slave could see it.  "Prepare her for the Mansion."
	Sheila strode to the closet and pulled out a large security lock
box and carried it to my desk, where she opened the lid.  "Put all your
possessions in this box, Slave.  They'll be safe in storage for the next
year."  Obediently, Amy Roth set her purse in the steel box, then settled
back in the chair, waiting for further instructions.  
	Sheila shot me a secretive smile.  The new slaves always fell for
that one too.  Amy was working up quite a score card against herself. 
Sheila made her voice gruff.  "I said all your possessions, Slave." 
	For a moment Amy looked puzzled, then she glanced down at her
clothes.  As realization struck home, her face turned crimson and she
glanced at me, as if she couldn't believe that she was expected to strip
naked in front of a lawyer in a modern office building.  No matter how many
times the new slaves are told that servitude starts as soon as they sign
the contract, they always think that means when they get to the Mansion. 
Go figure.
	Grabbing Amy by the bicep, Sheila jerked the young woman to her
feet as easily as if the woman was a child.  Sheila worked out on a regular
basis, and occasionally she challenged me to arm wrestling contests, and
had come close to winning on at least two occasions, but more about that
later.  "Put all your possessions in the security box, Slave," Sheila
repeated.  "This is the last time I'll be nice about it.  As it is, you've
earned yourself punishment by being so slow."
	I broke in.  "Also, she sat with her legs together, and she spoke
before she was given permission."  Amy gave me an accusing look, as if I
was a tattle tale, but I was only doing my job.
	"And she keeps looking at our faces,"  Sheila said.  "And she's
yet to call me Mistress."  The whole time we spoke, Sheila shook Amy like a
rag doll.  "Now you better cooperate, bitch, if you don't want additional
punishment."
	  Pale, Amy quickly unbuttoned her blouse and slid it off her arms
and shoulders to expose the firm mounds of her creamy breasts.  As
required, Amy had omitted her bra.  I wanted to lick her candy apple
nipples but that would exceed my authority.  
	I was allowed to discipline the new recruits, but I was not
allowed sexual favors unless Sheila required it for their initiation.  That
separated me as an employee of my clients, rather than a Member with equal
privileges.  At this point I was no more than a highly paid "house
servant," which is the only reason it was proper for Amy to call me Master.
 However, my contract allowed me an option to join their exclusive "club,"
but so far I had not been able to come up with the million dollar
membership fee. 
	That's why Darla was so special to me.  I could have my own
personal slave at a price I could afford - free.  I couldn't wait to
escalate her training.
	Amy stuffed her blouse in the security box without bothering to
fold it. 
Apparently, she didn't want to arouse our ire any further.  Then she
unfastened her skirt and let it fall to the floor, and Sheila and I both
sucked in our breath simultaneously.  Contrary to instructions Amy wore
red, silk panties.  Boy, was Amy going to get it now.  Grabbing them by the
waistband, Sheila gave a mighty heave and tore the panties right off  the
woman, leaving her completely naked, except for her shoes and hose attached
to garters.
	The photos hadn't lied.  Amy had a great body with sleek contours
and a triangle of  red fur above the delicate groove of her pussy lips
which disappeared between her  succulent thighs.  Normally, a new recruit's
pubic area is shaved before she leaves my office, but this time a Member
wanted Amy's red fur to remain. 
	"You weren't supposed to wear panties," said Sheila and stuffed
the ruined material against the woman's face in the same manner as rubbing
a dog's muzzle in its mess.
	Amy tried to twist away, but Sheila jammed Amy's arm up between
her shoulders blades and forced her belly against the edge of my desk. 
"Bend over the desk and grip the opposite side,"  said Sheila as she
stuffed the panties into Amy's mouth as a gag.  Sobbing at her rough
treatment, Amy bent over and her breasts flattened against the shiny veneer
of my desk top; her delicate fingers wrapped around the edge of my desk.  
	With well practiced movements, I put leather bracelets on Amy's
wrists, then clipped each hand to brackets on the corners of my desk, while
Sheila did the same thing to Amy's ankles.  The new slave's fingernails
were trimmed and devoid of all polish as instructed.  The poor girl had
remembered some details, but forgotten others.  But no matter;  even if she
had been perfect, it was Sheila's job to find some sort of punishable
offense.  My clients wanted the recruits to have red butts when they
arrived at the Mansion.
	 Amy's naked cheeks jutted at a sharp angle toward Sheila, who
gave it an admiring perusal.  "Nice ass," Sheila told her charge, and Amy's
face, only inches away from me, turned red enough to match her hair. 
	I slid back my chair and walked around my desk to stare at the
cheeks of Amy's ass, which were creamy and nicely splayed, exposing the
pink bud of her asshole and the slit of her pussy.  "You're right," I told
Sheila.  "Great ass.  And I like the way her butt hole is puckering up."
	Amy gasped at the crudity of our examination, which was yet
another mark against her.  Sheila slapped the upturned ass, leaving a
bright, red handprint.  Amy took it well, the only movement a quiver of her
butt cheek as it jelloed back into place.  At Sheila's nod, I added a
slightly larger handprint to Amy's other cheek.  Again, the new slave took
it stoically.  While Sheila went to the closet, I rained a flurry of blows,
each harder than the last on Amy's bottom, which was quickly ripening to a
sharp crimson.  
	Amy breathed harder with the discomfort, but she had yet to utter
an exclamation of pain.  As Sheila placed her tools on my desk, I stepped
aside and watched the professional run her hands over the girl's reddened
ass.  "Nice and hot already,"  she murmured, and she scrapped her nails
over the tender flesh.  Amy gasped and wiggled a bit, but otherwise held
her position.  Very impressive for a neophyte.  My clients would be quite
pleased.
	 Uncapping a tube of lubricant, Sheila smeared the slippery goo
all over her finger, then pushed against Amy's asshole.  "Oh!"  squealed
Amy.  Sheila's entire finger easily slipped up Amy's ass, then Sheila
inserted a second finger, then a third.  "Ow!"  said Amy, "That hurts!"
	Sheila grabbed a leather strap off my desk and slammed it across
Amy's ass.  "Shut up, slave."  Amy jerked and groaned with the sudden pain,
but settled back across the desktop.  Then Sheila strapped her buttocks
several times in rapid succession with heavy,  meaty slaps.  I was
impressed with Sheila's force, the muscles in her biceps knotted cables as
she repeatedly slammed the leather across Amy's ass with vicious stripes. 
Finally, Amy rose up on her toes and leaked a suppressed squeal.  Sheila
stopped.  "You received your punishment very well, Slave.  You may thank me."
	"Thank you, Mistress," came Amy's weak voice.  Her ass was now a
bright crimson, all the way from the top of her cheeks to her thighs; and
globs of lubricant glistened on her asshole and pussy lips.
	As Sheila pressed a black leather dildo against Amy's anus, Amy
tried to flinch away from the pressure, but there was no where to go. 
Amy's pink orifice expanded, then gave way as the tip of the dildo
disappeared into her body with a moist pop.  "Yeow!"  said Amy as she tried
to rise, but my hand between her silky shoulder blades pressed her firmly
against the desk.  And of course her wrists were still locked into place.
	Smiling, Sheila kept pushing until most of the dildo slid up Amy's
ass, then she twisted it a little bit and actually sank it a little deeper.
 Amy groaned with the discomfort.  Finally, Sheila fastened it into place
with straps that she attached to a thin, leather belt which she snapped
around Amy's waist.
	To top it all off, Sheila spent the next half hour strapping Amy's
ass cheeks to an even deeper crimson, then finally she said, "Okay, the new
slave is ready for transport."  Sheila and I quickly unfastened the poor
girl's restraints, then Amy forced herself up.  She  was a bit unsteady at
first so I steadied her with an arm around her shoulders, while Sheila 
fastened a leather collar around Amy's neck.  Then Sheila yanked Amy's arms
behind her back and locked them together with the leather bracelets. 
Finally, she forced them up Amy's spine and locked her wrists on a narrow
strap that hung down from the collar.
	In this position Amy's chest was thrust out and her breasts
protruded like two pink-tipped torpedoes.  I longed to squeeze them, lick
them, chew on the nipples, but that would be against the bylaws of my
contract, and Sheila would be sure to report me.  We weren't enemies, but
we weren't exactly the best of friends either. 
	In fact our relationship was a bit hard to define, and still in a
state of flux.  We weren't exactly lovers, but we were not strangers to
each other's bodies either.  Rather, we were in a constant state of
competition, which frequently involved intimate contact because of the
nature of our jobs, and sometimes that carried over into recreation, and
usually not in a gentle way.
	Sheila placed a trenchcoat around Amy's shoulder, and buttoned it
up the front. The sleeves dangled uselessly, but otherwise Amy looked like
any other young woman leaving a lawyer's office, except for the panties in
her mouth, which Sheila now removed.  No one would suspect that Amy was
naked and bound beneath the coat, with a freshly spanked bottom and a dildo
up her ass.
	"Amy," I said, to get her attention, for she was flushed and
staring at the floor, looking totally blown away as they always do after
such an intense session with Sheila.  I had to say her name again,  "Amy." 
And finally she looked up at me with eyes that were wide with fear.  "This
is a mild example of what you can expect at the Mansion.  For an entire
year."  This was the obligatory speech I was required to give each new
slave.  "At this point you may back out of this arrangement if you wish. 
The contract can be torn up, and we can all go our separate ways, no harm
done."
	A flicker of relief flashed across her face, as she realized she
could still get out of this crazy arrangement, as they always do.  But then
of course she remembered the money, and a steel resolve came into her eyes.
 "I want to go through with it,"  she said.  Her voice was a bit quivery,
but backed by strength.  And of course that was the answer I had expected. 
The weaklings were always weeded out before it got this far.  And besides,
where else could Amy earn this generous of a salary at her youthful stage
of inexperience?
	Sheila hooked her arm around the girl's shoulders, and led her to
the rear door of my office, which opened on a private freight elevator that
my clients had appropriated and customized for our needs.  In the parking
garage below, a white limousine with tinted glass waited to take Amy to the
Mansion.  Before the door closed, Sheila glanced back over her shoulder at me.
	"This was the last recruit today, Charles,"  she said.  "But don't
leave yet.  Maybe we can play a little game."  Then she gave me that dark,
wicked smile I knew so well, and I knew exactly what she meant.  A flash of
fear tightened my belly, but I nodded as the door closed behind Sheila. 
Yes, I was a bit fearful, but also excited.
               These "little games" of Sheila's were never boring.


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