Miss Susan had been delighted when Miss Chantelle told her that she and I had to visit my current clients to close out the merger and that we would be staying in a hotel for the week. She was of the opinion that a week with Miss Chantelle would be good for my attitude and behaviour. Over the course of the week, I knew they had been talking on the phone, but I had no idea what they were discussing. In the meantime, Miss Chantelle and I were making preparations for the site visit and Miss Chantelle had made the hotel booking for us; a suite, naturally and I would be driving us down on the Sunday.

On Saturday I did laundry, including hand-washing all our used lingerie; needless to say, I was naked, being in the apartment, Miss Susan was able to hear me moving around with my bells jingling. I packed a small case with bras, suspender belts, stockings, and shoes for the week ahead. I also put the dresses, skirt suits, and blouses which Miss Susan had chosen for me in a couple of garment hangers.

After I had served dinner and done the dishes, Miss Susan suggested we go to the pub, or to be more accurate, told me we were going to the pub. The clothes she chose for me were quite conservative, considering what she often had me wear; a mid-thigh mini skirt with a flowery blouse and 3" heels. Needless to say, there was no underwear involved and I still had to have my bells in place; Miss Susan wore her normal jeans and T-shirt. By now most people in the pub were used to seeing us together, so we didn't receive as many curious looks as we had to begin with; a young girl in a T-shirt and jeans with a woman old enough to be her mother, but from her attire clearly not her mother! We spent a pleasant couple of hours chatting over a bottle of wine, although I did feel uncomfortable when I went to the loo as I was sure people must be able to hear me jingling.

On returning from the pub, I spent a most pleasant hour or so worshipping Miss Susan; feet first, followed by breasts and arse, finally with my face firmly in her bush, tonguing her to multiple orgasms. Following that, she had me sit in front of her with my legs spread so she could watch as she allowed me to finger myself to my own climax. We had a nightcap before going to bed and fell asleep in each other's arms.

The following morning, after breakfast, Miss Susan had selected a mid-thigh flared mini dress for me to travel in, keeping the bells in place. She told me that it would be entirely down to Miss Chantelle when I was or was not to wear them. She also told me that she had talked with Miss Chantelle and that I was to be completely obedient to her and that it would also be entirely her decision if I required correction and what form it should take. As I went to take my things down to the car, she handed me another garment hanger, telling me not to look inside it and that Miss Chantelle was aware of its contents. Once my things were in the car, I returned upstairs and we hugged and kissed for a while, before she slapped me hard on the arse, telling me that I had better hurry and collect Miss Chantelle.

Parking outside Miss Chantelle's apartment building, I changed from my flat driving shoes into heels before ringing her bell. Telling me that her door was not locked as she buzzed me in, I deduced that she meant me to just walk in. As I entered, she was naked from the waist down, bending over a table; dropping to my hands and knees, I crawled over and, parting her magnificent arse cheeks, I buried my face between them and worshipped her arsehole. There was a distinctive aroma and earthy taste which started to turn me on.

Once Miss Chantelle was satisfied with my efforts, she had me help her into her knickers and jeans, telling me that her bags were by the door. I carried them down to the car, opening the passenger door for her to get in, before I stowed her bag and two garment hangers. A passing couple giggled as they watched me holding the door for Miss Chantelle and closing it after she was inside. Swapping my heels for my driving shoes, I settled into the drivers seat, starting to pull down the hem of my skirt, only to curtly be told to stop that and pull it higher instead! I should have known better, as she had me lift it up to my waist, exposing my bare mound. I am absolutely positive that quite a number of people enjoyed the spectacle as we cleared the city traffic.

As we approached the hotel, Miss Chantelle reached across and pulled the hem of my skirt down slightly. I changed back into my heels and walked around the car to open the door for Miss Chantelle, who told me to bring in the bags while she went to check us in. It was quite a struggle to manage both bags and the garment carriers, but I did it. As I walked into the lobby, I heard the receptionist ask Miss Chantelle if we wanted a porter to help with the bags. I could feel my face reddening as Miss Chantelle replied, "Oh, no need, Joanna can manage fine!" She strode over to the lift, me following behind; at least I had the privilege of watching her magnificent arse swaying in her tight jeans!

Once inside the suite, I immediately stripped and went to put away our clothes, only for Miss Chantelle to interrupt, "I need to pee, help me out of my jeans and knickers!" Kneeling, I obeyed before following her to the bathroom, where I lay on the floor while she stood legs wide apart over my face - a statuesque black beauty who soon let go a stream of pee right onto my face and mouth. Spluttering and blinking it out of my eyes, I did my best to swallow it all. Once I had cleaned her up, she had me put my heels back on while I finished putting the clothes away. As I put her lingerie into the drawer, I discovered that she had included a wide range of toys as well as a cane, which she told me she would not hesitate to use if I deserved it. She smiled at me as I mentioned the garment hanger I was not to open, just saying that I would find out when it was the right time for it.

Miss Chantelle decided we should go to the bar for cocktails before dinner and picked out a dress and heels for me, a skirt and blouse for her; of course, she got to wear underwear, although my bells were left behind! With us staying in an up-market hotel, my dress was actually quite restrained; mid-thigh and some cleavage. When we went into the bar, she ordered the drinks and left me to sign for them and bring them over to the table she was now at. We spent a pleasant hour over our cocktails before going to the dining room, where Miss Chantelle had made a reservation for us. I followed half a step behind her as she gave her name to the maître d'; well, it would be in her name! He showed us to our table, handing Miss Chantelle the wine list. When the waiter came, Miss Chantelle ordered for both of us, together with her choice of wine. After we had eaten, the waiter returned, asking Miss Chantelle if we wanted dessert; she demurred and I signed for the bill before we took the remains of our second bottle of wine up to the suite.

Miss Chantelle took a seat while I went to strip, with her telling me to keep my heels on and to attach the bells to my clit ring. I poured her a glass of wine and served it, waiting to be told if I was allowed one. She smiled approvingly, telling me to pour myself one as well. Patting her lap, she told me to sit, so I slid in as she put an arm around me, her fingers toying with my nipple, which, of course, perked. Suddenly, she pinched it hard between her nails, causing me to jerk, spilling a bit of wine on her skirt. I am positive she did it deliberately, as I knew what was coming before she even spoke. "Joanna, go and fetch the cane and put it on the table! While you're there fetch the leather paddle."

Doing as I was told, on my return she held her hand out for the paddle, telling me to bend over her lap. Starting with her hand, she alternated slaps on each cheek, getting harder as she warmed up. When she was satisfied with the redness and my tortured breathing, she took the paddle and really warmed my arse, tears rolling down my cheeks. Finally, she told me to go and fetch the cane, kneel, ask her forgiveness, and punish me properly for my clumsiness.

Kneeling and offering her the cane, I said, "Please Miss, please forgive me for my clumsiness in spilling wine on your skirt. Please punish me properly; it is what I deserve." Grinning, she took the cane from my outstretched hands and asked me how many strokes I thought I deserved. Thinking for a moment, I said hesitatingly, "Perhaps twelve Miss?"

"Double that, Joanna, and ask me properly," she said.

Still kneeling, I said, "Please Miss, please punish me properly for my misbehaviour with twenty-four strokes of the cane."

Satisfied with this, she told me to take the chair out from the table, spread my feet apart, and hold the seat firmly. Still wearing my heels, I took up my position, my arse high in the air. She took her position behind and to the side of me. She tapped the cane several times across my cheeks before I heard the swish and crack as it travelled through the air and made contact with my arse. Fortunately, this time I was prepared for it, but even so, struggled to hold position. "One, thank you, Miss." By the time she had finished, I was sobbing hopelessly and could scarcely stand. She soothed my arse with cream, before holding me tight and telling me what a good girl I was for taking it so well.

Waking early the next morning, my arse burning from the thoroughly deserved caning, I dressed for work, having great difficulty sitting to roll on my stockings; not that it was a surprise! At breakfast, the young waitress, who was probably still at school, handed us breakfast menus and asked what we wanted to drink. Miss Chantelle replied that we would both have coffee.

Remembering my manners when she brought the coffee, I said, "Thank you Miss." She smiled at that and Miss Chantelle ordered breakfast for both of us, before rebuking me for only calling her Miss when her nametag clearly showed she was called Jane.

When she brought our breakfasts her smile was even wider when I said, "Thank you Miss Jane." On the following days, Miss Chantelle got the only menu and she just asked her what we were having.

After breakfast, I carried both attaché cases down to the car and automatically opened the door for Miss Chantelle, who told me not to do that when we got to the office! I struggled a bit as I slid into the driver's seat and realised straight away that it was impossible to pull my skirt hem down below my stocking tops. We managed the trip without incident, although the gateman at the office car park made no secret of the fact that he was looking at my legs and stocking tops! Miss Chantelle and I were the only women for the meetings, which was not entirely surprising for what was, in those days, very much a male environment. Equally unsurprising were the appraising and appreciative looks as they checked us out.

The day went quickly and I was getting used to my extremely sore arse, but we achieved an enormous amount of work, It looked like we would be finished well in time on Friday. The next couple of days went equally smoothly, starting the same way with me providing toilet service to Miss Chantelle; I surmised that I could expect the same from Miss Susan. The gateman at the office always took his time checking our identification or, at least, my legs and stocking tops. I reckoned we would be finished by Friday lunchtime. After we had finished on Thursday, Miss Chantelle surprised me by saying that we had arranged a champagne cocktail hour for everyone at our hotel on Friday at 5 PM. Looking around, it seemed that everyone was going to accept.

We did, indeed, finish by Friday lunchtime, and Miss Chantelle and I returned to the hotel and spent a couple of hours just making out before she said it was time to get ready. I now discovered what had been in the other garment hanger. Miss Chantelle helped me put on the corset, which laced up very tightly, really pulling my waist in and pushing my boobs right up.

I had black, fully-fashioned stockings and she had to help me with those too, as it was so difficult to bend. The tight red cocktail dress only just covered the welts and it displayed a significant amount of cleavage. In addition, I had five-inch red stiletto heels! Miss Chantelle did my make-up, which was quite a lot more garish than I would have done and when she had finished she asked me what I thought. I told her I thought I really looked rather like I imagined a call girl would look, at which she smiled, telling me that was the intention! She was far more conservatively dressed in a knee-length green cocktail dress, which really set off her dark skin and emphasised her curves. I thought she looked absolutely magnificent

When we went down, I discovered that she had reserved a small conference room and that our young waitress from breakfast, Jane, was laying out canapés, and that there were a number of bottles of champagne in coolers. She smiled when I greeted her as Miss Jane, just addressing me as Joanna and saying how much she liked my dress. She was clearly in earshot when Miss Chantelle told me to be sure to keep everyone's glass topped up. I was sure she had realised the nature of the relationship between Miss Chantelle and me before now, but now she must be certain of it.

I greeted the men as they arrived and presented them with glasses of champagne, telling them to help themselves to canapés. I was certainly being checked out as I circulated, making sure to top up the glasses and I was complimented numerous times on my dress, also receiving comments about my shoes and stockings! By the time everyone had left, I was quite tired of standing in those heels and the corset was very constraining. As Miss Chantelle and I were saying how well it had gone, Jane entered and came over to us. "I believe you are going to help me clear up in here, Joanna," she said; Miss Chantelle had obviously talked to her.

Miss Chantelle smiled widely as I replied, "Of course, Miss Jane." Telling me she would see me upstairs when I had finished, Miss Chantelle left and I started putting glasses and plates onto the trolley; Miss Jane took a seat and watched me. As we chatted, Miss Jane confirmed that she was eighteen and in her final year at school. Looking me in the eye, she said it was so refreshing that someone of my age could be as respectful to her as I was. What could I say? I was sure Miss Chantelle would check with her, so I just said that Miss Chantelle expected that of me. Once the tables had been cleared, she pointed out the cleaner and cloth, saying that the surfaces needed wiping down. After that, I had to vacuum the room.

When we had finished, before she took the trolley back to the kitchen, she said, "Good girl, Joanna, thank you for that. I do hope I see you again."

Taking a deep breath, I made my way to the lift and back to the suite. Miss Chantelle helped me out of the dress and corset, had me attach the bells to my clit ring and put me on collar and leash. Lubing up a butt plug, she pushed it firmly home; not at all painful these days, it fit snugly. As I was walking (crawling) to heel at her side, there was a knock on the door, I gasped as she led me over to it and opened it. I was not surprised to see that it was Miss Jane, who had clearly been invited.

Looking down at me, she said, "Lovely to see you again so soon, Joanna, and I love how you look down there." I thanked her as Miss Chantelle asked her if she would like to walk me, handing her the leash. She was firm with the leash, keeping me to heel and admonishing me if it was not to her satisfaction. She thanked Miss Chantelle for inviting her, saying she really had to leave. Miss Chantelle asked if she wanted to be pleasured before she left. Answering in the affirmative, she hiked her skirt, removed her knickers, and sat, knees apart, so that I could get my face in. Just a covering of pubic hair there as I approached, breathing in her scent, before running my tongue over her labia. She pulled my face in tight as I licked and sucked, before bringing her to orgasm, my face now coated in her juices. Straightening herself up, she thanked Chantelle again and said she hoped we would back.

At breakfast the next morning, Miss Jane greeted us warmly, winking at me, causing me to blush. As we left, she said that she hoped we had enjoyed our stay and would be back. After that, I loaded our baggage into the car and held the door for Miss Chantelle. I automatically pulled the hem of my dress up to expose myself as we set off, with Miss Chantelle praising me for that. The rest of the journey was without issue and before long I had taken Miss Chantelle's things into her apartment and had been dismissed.