Image by Katou Kahoru (source unknown)
Serena raised the hem of her candy-striped skirt to her hips, and hovered over the little ebony stool, as her Mistress looked on encouragingly.
“That’s a good girl! Mister Cholmondeley and his wife will be here soon. You know how proud I am to have you kneeling at my feet.”
Beneath her elegant dress, Serena was wearing nothing else. Her underwear having been confiscated when she’d first arrived at Althorp House. At the time she’d protested vociferously, a bit too petulantly as it happened. A little tizzy that had cost her all her clothes, and ended with her being spanked like a silly little girl over the knee of her Ladyship, and being put to bed with a very sore bottom indeed.
That first night, Serena had wept into her own pillows, distraught at the prospect of having to spend the summer in this horrible place. In subsequent days she’d discovered just how seriously her hostess believed in discipline. The house rules were numerous and byzantine, but there was only ever one punishment for breaking them: a good hard spanking, on the bare bottom.
At first, Serena behaved as if she had a choice when it came to following her instructions - a delusion her new mistress had found cheerfully endearing. But in the three weeks since she’d arrived here, Serena’s obedience had improved considerably. When she’d first been introduced to the stool, she’d resisted bitterly, of course. But now she welcomed the firm deep push of its double protrusions, and would take her seat without complaint. In fact, Serena couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat upon a proper chair.
There was a knack to mounting this low dildoed stool, which Serena felt she’d now mastered. The trick, she’d found, was to straddle it, and lower herself until she felt the slick head of smaller stem poke against her bottom hole. Then she’d allow herself to sink ever deeper, until she could feel the bulge of its head stretch her open and push inside her. As she sank ever lower, the thicker bulge of the other phallus would intrude between her slit, probing her wet entrance like an over-eager lover.
Serena continued her slow descent to the floor, until her knees were embedded in the lush velvety softness of the salon’s dark carpet. She stifled a moan as the protrusions penetrated deeper and deeper, stretching her wider and filling previously unfelt spaces. At that point Serena would be sitting on her haunches, her bright red shoes on either side of the stool’s tiny legs, with her bare bottom resting on the narrow wooden platter that formed its seat.
Once seated, she’d let go of her dress, allowing her hem to fall to the floor like a finale’s stage curtain, completely concealing the stool and its intimate protrusions. Any visitor subsequently arriving would be completely unaware that just beneath her pretty striped dress, both her holes were filled by dildoes. Visitors would simply see what they expected to see, a beautiful young lady kneeling adoringly at her Ladyship’s feet.
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