Just Being Me Pt. 04 - Grief

Part 4 Grief

The pain of abandonment leads to interesting times.

You know the score: All rights reserved, everyone partaking in sex is 18+, and it's written in English, not American English.

This is the fourth part of a multi-part story that features sex rather than being sex centric. Whilst this story can stand on its own, you should read the previous parts first to get a better understanding of the characters.

How we grieve is completely individual, and it's different for everyone. There are no set stages we all go through. And our feelings and emotions do not follow an order. They will come and go over time. It is possible to experience multiple stages on the same day and in any order. The recognised stages are denial, anger, bargaining ('magical thinking' and 'what if'), depression (sadness and longing) and acceptance.

A bit of fun: Someone left a comment against part 3 that had many inaccuracies. The most glaring was the sentence, "Of course the British do not use the word Pussy in reference to the Vagina as we do here". This triggered a serious WTF moment, considering pussy was, for many years, my preferred euphemism for the vulva. Which made me think about all the words I use to describe down there. So out of curiosity (which killed the cat, or should that be the pussy), I did a quick online search using "UK euphemisms for vulva". The top ranked result was a survey from LloydsPharmacy Online Doctor titled "Vajayjay Wordplay" listing the top twenty euphemisms, with pussy being ranked sixth.

This triggered yet more thinking, such as let's try to use as many euphemisms from the list as possible in a story. So welcome to Pussy Catchword Bingo. You know how to find your bingo cards. Kudos to the first person to leave a comment correctly identifying the one unused euphemism.

There is a second chance to shine by leaving a comment correctly listing all the euphemisms used in the story from Cosmo's "A definitive ranking of all the weird (and funny) words for vagina" article that did not appear in the LloydsPharmacy list.

Enjoy ????

Chapter 1 Tragedy

It was a Monday, a month after we had received the green light to resume having sex following my three months recovering from having my outie converted to an innie.

Lisa and I were having lunch after a busy morning working in the salon. We were in the middle of our meal when Lisa's phone rang. She checked who the caller was and ignored it. A few moments later, there was a ping as a new voicemail message arrived. A short while later, her phone pinged again as another message came in, followed by another call. Again, she ignored it.

My phone started ringing. I ignored it, pushing it straight to voicemail. A couple of message alerts soon followed. It seemed someone somewhere was desperately trying to contact us, so I checked my messages. The latest one was from Jane, who said it was urgent, and we needed to return to the salon ASAP.

I relayed the message to Lisa, and we reluctantly headed back, speculating about the urgency. We entered through the main door. Lisa's older brother was waiting, looking distressed. He asked if there was somewhere we could talk in private. We showed him through to the office.

Eric suggested we should sit down.

Lisa, being impatient, told him to get on with it.

He took a deep breath. "There has been an accident involving Dad."

"Is he alright? What happened?" She demanded.

"He's dead," Eric stated somewhat abruptly.

She bent like she had been hit in the stomach. Her mouth opened as if to scream, but the only sound that escaped was her breath being exhaled. The look on her face turned to anguish.

I grabbed hold of Lisa. She clung to me as if her life depended on it. I tried to comfort her, but all we did was cry on one another's shoulders.

After a few minutes, she had recovered enough to ask, "How?"

No explanation was forthcoming, so I snapped, "Answer her."

Eric finally explained what he knew. In short, John, Lisa's father, was in the loading bay of one of their warehouses, standing next to a lorry while it was being unloaded, when part of the load fell and crushed him.

Lisa and I continued to hold on to one another. Once Eric had finished, Lisa thanked him and suggested he should be with his family. Before leaving, he promised to keep us updated as he found out more.

I suggested Lisa sit while I went and briefed Jane so I could take her home. I interrupted Jane and brought her out into the back corridor so I could explain what had happened and ask her to run the place for a few days. Jane was immediately onboard, but before she would return to her customer, she needed to hug Lisa and pass on her condolences in person.

We parked outside the cottage and went straight to her mother's house. Despite not having lived together for over ten years, Margeret, Lisa's mum, was inconsolable. I cleared my diary for the next few days so I could focus on supporting them. The shock had worn off by Wednesday. Eric had taken the lead with the arrangements, consulting the family about the service and the wake.

Lisa initiated sex on Wednesday evening. It was an intimate, gentle, and loving experience, but she still seemed lost. Which, given the circumstances, was completely understandable.

I could only imagine the loss Lisa and her family were experiencing. I liked John, and his passing was as heartbreaking as it was unexpected, but he was more like a friend or close colleague rather than a family member, even though he was going to be my father-in-law. We understood one another; we operated on the same level, which probably explains why he invited me to join the board of his controlling company and named me his successor.

Lisa returned to the salon on Thursday, giving me time to catch up with my work. I stayed in contact with Frank Hibbert, CEO of the Lambert Group, the parent holding company for John's businesses. He was pushing me to either issue a press release announcing me as interim Chair or call a board meeting to confirm my appointment as the new Chair following the succession plan. I needed to see what happened to John's shareholding because Eric was telling everyone he was going to be the new Chair, regardless of what the succession plan said.

The last thing I wanted was to cause a fight within the family over a job I wasn't sure I even wanted. I had only agreed to be named as John's successor to give him time to identify and groom a suitable successor. I already held a raft full of directorships, including various executive positions in companies working within fashion, where I was happily making my second fortune.

On Friday, Frank and I met with Lambert Group's solicitor. He also handled John's personal affairs and was the principal executor of his will. John held 80% of the shares in the group. In his will, he bequeathed 50% of his holding to his wife, Margret, with 5% going to each of his kids, with the remaining 30% being split equally between Frank and myself.

The maths was simple; gaining Margret's support with her 40% interest was going to be critical to gaining overall control. Frank and I controlled 24% between us, 28% assuming I had Lisa's support. We could not predict how the four parties controlling the remaining 20% would vote, and we had to presume Greg and Sarah would vote for their brother.

I wrestled with the question: did I want another part-time job that would require at least a day a week of my time? I mentioned it to Lisa over the weekend to get her input. Phrasing it as a question, "Do you think I should take over as Chair?"

"Eric wants it, and I suspect you don't, regardless of what you promised, Dad." Her observation was spot on.

"I will gladly honour the commitment I gave your dad if that is the will of the board. But you are correct. I'm not convinced I want the role." I paused before adding, "Does that make me a bad person?"

"If I were you, I wouldn't want it." Was her assessment.

The next week proceeded almost as if nothing had happened. Lisa stopped talking about her dad, just being a little subdued, which was understandable. I gave her all the support I could. We led our lives pretty much as normal, even spending time at the townhouse, including attending the Fetish club on Thursday at Lisa's suggestion. We returned on Sunday to the cottage, as Lisa didn't want to be away from her mum any longer.

Whilst at the townhouse, I made a point of picking up my funeral shoes. They were the first designer shoes I ever owned. My grandmother bought them for me shortly before I started uni. We took a shopping trip to Holt. Gran had reached an age where she found Norwich too busy. She insisted I own some nice quality clothes besides my typical goth wear. She was very accepting of my feminity. I regularly hid out with her when I needed a break from the parental pressure to conform. Truth be told, she encouraged me, constantly reassuring me I looked like a beautiful young woman.

After buying several items of clothing, she decided I also needed some shoes. So, we popped into Fairfax and Favor, where I fell in love with a pair of black velvet court shoes in a style named Epsom. They had a 9cm stiletto heel, pointy toes with gold snaffle detailing and detachable ankle straps.

I winced at the price, but my gran insisted. "I need to make sure you have at least one appropriate pair of shoes to wear when the time comes to bury me."

Hence my funeral shoes.

My gran was incorrigible. We also left the store with a couple of handbags and my first pair of Fairfax and Favor's famous boots, a 9cm stacked leather heeled pair of Octavia boots in a tan-coloured suede and leather mix.

She died when I was 22. I was already earning enough to buy luxury designer shoes of my own and regularly was. However, I made a point of wearing the shoes she bought me at her funeral in memory of my wonderful grandmother.

John's funeral took place on the first Tuesday of August. For a funeral, it was a nice, simple service with plenty of tears shed. Frank introduced me to a bunch of people who knew John in a business context. It felt more like a networking meeting than a wake. Lisa noticed and was clearly not happy, but I wasn't trying to meet these people. After all, they were being introduced to me. It seemed to most people that I was now the de facto head of the Lambert Group.

Since her father's passing, we had made out most nights. It was pleasant enough, but nowhere near as passionate as normal. I put it down to the loss of her dad. However, during the night of the funeral, Lisa remained uncharacteristically silent and didn't want to talk. All she wanted to do was snuggle. I respectfully tried to get things moving to the next level, but she was insistent that we just hugged.

The next day, I chaired a board meeting with a single item on the agenda. Namely, the election of a new Chair. Early in the morning, I had a chat with Margaret. She had decided to endorse Eric as the new Chair. It hit me like an electric shook. My pride and ego suffered the worst. That is until my strategic thinking kicked in and sense prevailed, leaving me experiencing a welcome sense of relief. She asked me if would continue advising and providing guidance via my non-exec role. I assured her I would.

I invited Margaret and Sarah, Lisa's older sister, to ride with Lisa and me to the meeting, so they didn't have to drive. During the drive, Lisa said she was giving her vote to her mum to use, as was Sarah. Lisa explained that her decision was based on my lack of commitment to the job, but she did not want to vote against me. Thus, partially explaining Margaret's decision.

I warned Frank during a grabbed five minutes before the meeting began. Margaret nominated Eric to be the new Chair. It was game over before it even started. She controlled 48% of the vote, and Eric was unlikely to vote against himself, giving him a 52% total. In effect, he won the election unopposed, yet his wife tried to force a unanimous vote, but because most non-family members intended to vote against Eric, she didn't push it. Although she insisted on challenging me for my voting intensions, I abstained because I didn't want to vote against the family's wishes, but neither did I want to vote against John's succession plan.

Chapter 2 Confusion

When we returned to the cottage, I tried to hug Lisa, but she pushed me away, saying she needed some space. I spent the next hour walking the dogs. When I arrived back, Lisa was sitting at the kitchen table. She asked me to sit down. I sat, as requested, while she explained her need to mourn in private. She believed it would be better if I stayed at to the townhouse whilst she grieved. I pushed back, asking her if I had done anything wrong. She insisted we were fine, but she was adamant that she needed some time on her own. I packed my travel bag and put it in the back of the car. I was fighting back the tears when I promised to be there for her when she needed me. She thanked me for being so understanding. We kissed, although it felt like she wasn't there. I said I would call her to let her know I'd arrived safe and sound. She asked that I not call as she expected to be asleep.

I drove to the townhouse in a state of complete confusion, unable to understand why Lisa wanted time apart. Especially when I remembered all the hassle, she would normally give me whenever I stayed in town, rather than travelling back to the cottage to be with her.

I messaged her when I arrived at the townhouse. When I'd received no response, by 6pm the next day, I phoned. She answered, sounding cold, appearing annoyed with me. I checked she was OK, and when she wasn't forthcoming, I pushed her to tell me what the problem was. She insisted she just needed time and asked me to give her until after the upcoming spring/summer fashion weeks. I complained that was over two months and I had to beg her to at least agree to talk on Sunday evenings.

I used work as a distraction, including avoiding going to the salon, as per Lisa's request to give her space. Jane contacted me, explaining Lisa asked her to take the lead with hair and makeup at Gillian's show. I had no fundamental objection, but it annoyed the hell out of me that Lisa didn't tell me herself.

Initially, the Sunday evening calls lasted around half an hour and were friendly. Although I could have talked longer. Being apart felt more painful than recovering from my operation. An incessant drain on my soul that felt worse with each passing day.

I received one piece of excellent news on the 18th of August. My gender recognition certificate had been granted. I was so happy that I had to message Lisa with the news. She replied with congratulations, telling me she was delighted for me. I followed, saying I would love to celebrate with her, but received a message apologising and telling me she was not ready yet. I tried pushing back, but she begged me to give her space, putting a serious damper on my news.

However, my good friend and solicitor, Annie, insisted we go out and celebrate the news. We met up at a city bar near her office. She realised something was amiss within minutes. I wasn't admitting anything, but she didn't buy my lame excuse about why Lisa wasn't with us, and she wouldn't back down. So, I effectively had no choice but to update her on what's happened over the last fortnight. She was surprised, but maintained her composure, and suggested we drank ourselves stupid.

I flew to New York the last Monday of August ahead of the NYC fashion week so I could contribute to the planning of the magazine's spring/summer fashion month coverage. The magazine had spared no expense: first class flights, a town car available for the duration, along with a multi-bedroomed hotel suite.

My PA, Amber, greeted me upon my arrival at the magazine's offices. She led me to what was now my office on the editor's floor. I had a front-facing corner office, the other occupied by the editor-in-chief herself. Amber occupied a corner of the large outer office outside my office. The outer office was otherwise empty. Several large, framed pictures of myself, including a massive six by ten-foot landscape picture of Lisa, Asha and me topless from the first Gilly Bell London Fashion Week show, decorated the office and outer office.

With meetings scheduled for the afternoon and evening of my arrival, it was full on from the moment I arrived. On Tuesday, the team was actively asking me how I thought we should proceed, and on Wednesday and Thursday, I was effectively running the show. A point confirmed by the team repeatedly introducing me as the fashion editor at various external meetings. I made a mental note to discuss my remuneration with the editor-in-chief herself the next time we spoke.

Asha arrived Wednesday and stayed in the second bedroom of my suite. With all the editorial meetings, dress fittings and general meet and greets, it was full on, leaving no time to hang out. It didn't get any better when Fashion Week formally started. I attended all the major and the more promising up-and-coming designers' shows, including walking in three and showing my face at all the major parties, including chatting with all the key players.

This was the magazine's home turf, so we had no shortage of writers and photographers attending the different shows. We were posting a few images from the events in real-time on the magazine's website, along with teasers posted to the usual social media sites. At the end of each day, we were publishing summary articles, including articles covering emerging themes and other pertinent topics. I had taken to running breakfast meetings where we reviewed the previous day's photos, selecting the best and making sure we had all the supporting notes. Plus, we double-checked that each show had at least one writer and photographer assigned. The professional me already had this editorial job down to a tee, even if my personal life appeared to be on hold.

I made time to speak to Lisa on Sunday afternoon en route between shows. She expressed surprise that I called. I said I couldn't miss it because I was missing her like crazy. We spoke for over twenty minutes. With me begging at the end for her to see me during next week's London Fashion Week. She said she would think about it.

I texted Lisa when I landed in London early Wednesday morning. I didn't get a reply. Asha, who travelled back with me, tried contacting her but had no luck either. I went straight to Gillian's studio to check on progress. I asked her if she had any contact with Lisa. She said no, Jane was handling it all. I called Jane to see if she had any idea what was happening. Jane also drew a blank, recommending I sit tight and give her more time to work things through. There appeared to be no evidence she had been to the townhouse either during my absence.

I checked every show and party, yet she was consistently absent. Various folks we knew asked where she was. It hurt every time I gave the same excuse about her dad having recently passed away.

Sunday evening came around, and I phoned. She answered, and as soon as I asked if I would see her at Gillian's show, she replied, "I can't," and hung up. I tried calling her back, and it went straight to voicemail. Common sense would have told me to wait until the call ended, but I just wanted to cuddle her.

I stayed professional. Gillian's show went well. It was the only runway show I was walking in London, my face being too well associated with the Gilly Bell brand. When Jane and I spoke during the show, she was still unaware of what was effecting Lisa. She mentioned Lisa was distant and only working two or three days a week, plus bookings at the salon had decreased over 10% in my absence. Neither did Kim have a clue what was wrong with her and bemoaned a similar decline in bookings.

On Tuesday, I attended the last of the London shows before heading to the airport, via the townhouse, to fly to Milan accompanied by Asha, who stayed in my suite. I was walking in shows most days of the Milan week, but nowhere near as many as Asha.

I called Lisa again on Sunday evening. It was a terse call. She made an excuse to leave after a few minutes, leaving me feeling bereft and abandoned. I felt like I was losing her. I felt so low I almost succumbed to snorting the cocaine available so overtly at every after-show party. Being no angel myself, I wasn't going to preach against its use. I was at least complicit in its supply for Gilly Bell entertaining, but I had always avoided anything harder than the occasional shared cannabis joint at uni.

Mainly because I witnessed the hell caused by heroin addiction when my cousin Dylan almost died from an overdose when I was twelve, many in the family wished he had died, as he spent the next four years trying to shake the habit with the aid of prescription methadone. Unfortunately, his health never recovered from the damage caused by the years of abuse that culminated in his OD. Eventually, his body just failed.

That night, I felt so lost. I longed for the pain to be gone. If it wasn't for Asha, being there to act as my conscience, I'm sure I would have succumbed and probably ended up overdosing. Instead, we ended up having a tear-filled night as I confessed my terrors that I was losing Lisa and not understanding why or what to do to make amends.

Asha promised to always be they for me regardless of the outcome, and with her help, I dragged myself together by the morning.

I put a brave face on during Monday's shows. Asha and I both appeared in the Valentino and Dolce & Gabbana shows that closed out Milan. We flew into Paris, arriving in time to attend the all-important first-night parties. Technically, Paris started at 5pm on Monday, but all the big names were showing later in the week. Besides, we sent several writers Monday morning to cover the opening shows.

To distract myself from Lisa, I kept busy, walking in at least one show every day, attending key shows I wasn't walking, and showing up at all the significant parties. However, I made a point of carving out some time to call Lisa on Sunday evening. This time, we talked for around 20 minutes. She apologised for cutting last week's call short and was generally sounding like her old self. It finally felt as if there was hope.

I flew back to NYC on Wednesday, accompanying the editor-in-chief. We talked. She thanked me for stepping up and running the magazine's fashion show coverage. She had deliberately lined me to take on a more active editorial role in the magazine, believing I was the perfect example of the successful professional woman she has been targeting since she took over the reins.

I was flattered. I asked about how much commitment she was expecting, where I would need to be based, and the remuneration, making it clear I was already earning several million a year.

She estimated it would require half my time, mainly NYC-based. She would need sign off from the magazine's owners, but at least a million a year plus profit share and a full benefits package covering first-class travel including my monthly commute, chauffeur-driven car, permanent NYC hotel suite plus a significant signing bonus.

I thanked her and said I would need to think about it and discuss it with Lisa, reminding her we are getting married in December.

She commented about Lisa not being seen at any of the shows. I just fed her the standard line about Lisa's dad having recently passed away. Based on her response, I figured she knew things weren't right between us.

I spent the next nine days organising everything for the magazine's coverage. Plus, I also developed a bunch of new ideas. I worked through the weekend and spoke to Lisa on Sunday. We chatted for almost half an hour. I mentioned the job offer. She was so pleased for me, telling me I had to take it. The call felt positive, like I was still desired, especially when she reminisced about some of the fantastic times we'd shared in the past. I spent the next week with my mind in a significantly better state than it had been recently.

I consulted with Annie, Gillan, Susan, and Asha to gather their perspectives on the magazine editorship proposal. The general opinion was positive. Although Gillian needed reassurance that it wouldn't affect my Gilly Bell involvement. I also requested that Annie review the contracts and other relevant documents. She made an interesting comment, which Susan also mentioned, about the rapidly growing anti-trans sentiment within the US. Which appears to be growing much faster than in the UK. She was concerned whether my job would survive if it came out that I was trans, not to mention any possible adverse knock-on effects with the Gilly Bell business. We discussed it amongst ourselves for a couple of days and I took Annie's considered legal opinion that full disclosure protects all parties. I needed to inform my prospective employer. To prevent the possibility of being outed maliciously, Annie insisted I do so whilst covered by a comprehensive non-disclosure agreement.

I informed the owners after I negotiated various contractual changes and was ready to accept. The news did not bother the editor-in-chief. She completely agreed with my assertion that it's a private, personal decision whether to come out. A couple of board members had concerns, but the majority had no issue, and were looking forward to publicly supporting me if it came out.

I was looking forward to getting home and was feeling optimistic about seeing Lisa. It had been over two months since I had held her, and I was desperate for sex. A dilator doesn't really do the trick, and a vibrator just scratches the itch.

Chapter 3 Shock

I finally arrived back at the townhouse around 8:30am Saturday, 16th October, only to find a note on the kitchen table underneath Lisa's engagement ring and a set of house keys that read:

Hi Andi,

I'm so sorry. Although it pains me to hurt you, I just can't be with you any longer.

I have removed all my belongings from your house and placed all you had at mine back in yours.

I hope we can still work together in the salon. If you can't, I understand. I promise I will call to discuss in a week or two.

I'm so sorry we can't be together.

Please forgive me. I still love you and always will,

Lisa

I was in a total state of shock. Standing there repeatedly re-reading the note until I couldn't see to read it any more through my tears. I collapsed into a chair and sobbed my heart out whilst I thought of all the things I should have done differently. However, I was clueless about what I'd done wrong. OK, there are inevitable little things, but nothing that merited this treatment. And how she believed I could continue to work with her in the salon was completely beyond me.

I needed to understand why. I could either phone or visit her. A phone call was more immediate, but she had to answer and risk her hanging up without providing any answers. So, I phoned the chauffeur service, and they said they would have someone with me within the hour. I certainly didn't feel up to driving myself in my current state.

Discarding my bags in the bedroom, I spent some time making myself presentable. I waited in the study for the driver to arrive, placing the note inside my shoulder bag. Thankfully, they sent Vish, my preferred driver. The ride down passed slowly; I struggled to hold the tears at bay as I racked my mind for any reason for her change of heart.

I showed Vish where he could wait at the back and wasn't worried by the lack of Lisa's car. Jane's car was there, and I knew they often carpooled. Vish dropped me off outside the front. I walked into the salon at 1:26pm, holding my head up high as I looked around. Lisa wasn't in the main salon, so I walked through to the office. It was empty. I was about to return out front when Jane barged in, looking incredibly sombre. Following her suggestion, I sat at the desk I'd sat at hundreds of times in the past, but now it just felt so foreign.

She asked me what I knew. I showed her the 'Dear Jane' note that greeted my arrival. Jane warned me to brace myself, there was worse to follow. She pulled out her phone and forwarded me a message she had received in the early hours of this morning. My phone pinged; I checked the new message. It read, "We just got married" with a link that opened a video of some tacky Vegas, Elvis-style wedding involving Lisa and some idiot I didn't know but who looked vaguely familiar.

I was way too shocked to cry. I stared at Jane for a few moments. She assured me she didn't have a clue Lisa was seeing anybody else, let alone she was about to do anything as stupid as this. Jane made her feelings known, saying she wanted nothing more to do with the bitch. I continued to sit there, stony-faced, quietly raging inside.

Finally, I spat out, "Who is he?"

Jane said his name is Rob, and he works for the post office. He regularly delivers the salon's post.

At least that answered where I recognised him from. According to Jane, he is a bit of a gold digger. He has been married at least twice before to rich women whom he has divorced using some trumped-up excuse, taking them to the cleaners.

My anger boiled over at that point. "What the fuck does she think she's doing? I thought she had more sense than that. Well, he will soon get bored with her when he realises she isn't that rich. She has three assets to her name, this place which I own half off and can reduce its value to nothing just like that," as I snapped my fingers, "Along with the shares and cash her dad left her and if what I've heard is true about her brother screwing up bids, the shares are steadily depreciating."

Jane tentatively asked, "Um, what do you mean by making the business worthless?"

"Most of the value in this business comes from the goodwill generated by my involvement. You said as much when we talked at Gillian's show when you mentioned bookings were down. So, if I publicly cease my involvement and demand half the value of the business, she will have to pay me a few tens of thousands at best as opposed to the hundreds of thousands it's worth with my active involvement."

"You know we will go out of business without your involvement. Her dad regularly used to subsidise us."

"I figured as much from when I first reviewed the books. That said, we will just set up shop elsewhere. There are plenty of empty premises available. I promise I won't hang you or the team out to dry because of that little slut."

Jane looked relieved. "I must say, you are handling this far better than I would."

"What do you mean? At 9am this morning, I was crying my eyes out. Now I'm so mad I just want to hurt the bitch, and I'm actively scheming how to achieve that. All while I'm dreading going to bed this evening when I know I'll be all alone and the fear and loneliness will be unescapable as I cry myself to sleep." Taking a long breath, before continuing, "I'm so sorry, I'm just a mess. I need to speak to Margaret and find out what she knows."

We called Margaret, placing her on speakerphone. I demanded to know whether she knew about Lisa and this Rob bastard. She immediately apologised for Lisa's behaviour. From what she's found out, she's been seeing him for at least the last four months. She had been begging Lisa to tell me for at least the last month.

Margaret explained how Lisa dumped the dogs on her Tuesday morning and said she was going on holiday to Las Vegas. She suspected something was wrong and gave Lisa an ultimatum: marry him before speaking to me in person and she would be disinherited, including losing the cottage. After what she did last night, Margaret had already changed the locks and spoken to her solicitor to change her will.

When she found out I was at the salon, she invited me round to pick up a set of new keys for the cottage, telling me it was now mine to use. I thanked her, but I don't think I would be comfortable staying there without Lisa. She insisted I pop in, though.

I said my goodbyes to Jane. We both had a little cry whilst we hugged. I asked Jane not to mention anything to Lisa about what we had discussed and to keep me informed about what was happening. I promised to let her know what I was planning.

Vish greeted me as I left by the back door. I sat up front while I directed him to Margaret's house. Once I finished greeting her and said hello to the dogs, I asked if Vish could come in and have a drink while we talked. She said, "Of course," and wouldn't let either of us leave without having something to eat as well. Whilst she cooked, we talked.

She asked if I still wanted Lisa.

I considered my answer. "I was going to say no because I hate the cheating bitch, but I still love her and want her. If she was to walk in this instance begging for forgiveness, I would scream and shout at her all night, but I would be so relieved and glad. I know I would end up hugging and kissing her before the night was through."

"That's good to know. I'm going to ban her from visiting the house as well. I need you to be there for her, though." Margaret said.

I then explained my initial plan. If she phones, I will push her to voice mail and respond by message. I will engineer a meeting, but I will send a proxy in my place, probably my solicitor, Annie. Who will deliver a letter in which I will express my undying love for her and explain that I do not think I can see her without breaking down, hence why I've asked Annie, or whoever, to represent me. I will tell her I still want her but recognise she has moved on, and I will continue to support her but from afar. I will also have Annie advise Lisa about Rob's past and warn her about taking suitable precautions to protect her interests. If Lisa needs any help, Annie will make it clear she will provide whatever help is required at my expense.

Margaret queried various details. I explained it was very much still work in progress, but overall, she agreed with the approach.

She was insistent that I take a set of keys for the cottage. I inquired if she was going to have Lisa's belongings moved into storage. She intended to let Lisa have access to remove everything she wanted. I questioned if that was wise. Because as soon as she has access, she can resume living there, and then it will become a serious nightmare getting her out legally, given it's been her home for so many years. As an alternative, I suggested she get Pickford's or another removal company to pack it all up and move it into storage, where Lisa can have the keys. I even offered to pay for it. Margaret agreed that's a better plan and would organise it first thing Monday morning.

Margaret wondered if I wanted to take the dogs. I declined. As much as I love them and miss them, they were Lisa's babies, and as much as I currently hated her, I couldn't do that to her. Instead, I took them for a walk. I told them to take care of Lisa as if they could understand exactly what I was saying. I gave the dogs a goodbye hug and said my goodbyes to Margaret, promising to stay in touch. As I was leaving, I took one last glance at the cottage as I let all the wonderful memories from the place wash through my mind.

Chapter 4 Depression

I travelled back up to town feeling incredibly empty. Today had started with such promise, I never expected to have my heart broken. I knew I still wanted Lisa. I needed her companionship and to feel intimate with her, but tonight, I just wanted to mourn my loss.

So, I turned my phone's ringer off and stopped looking at messages and emails. There was only one person I wanted to be with. The problem was, she didn't want to be with me.

That evening, I told Alexa to play Harry Nilsson's Greatest Hits, being full of tracks such as Without You. It seemed an appropriate soundtrack to wallow in as I steadily worked my way through a couple of bottles of Barolo. Alexa moved on to playing songs from A Little Touch of Schmilsson in the Night. Makin' Whoopee hit me particularly badly with its references to marriage, so I told Alexa to play a bunch of individual songs starting with Sinead O'Connor's Nothing Compares 2 U. I was soon bored with selecting individual songs, so I instructed Alexa to play St Vincent's Masseducation which contains a bunch of songs charting the demise of Annie Clarke's relationship with Cara Delevingne. Having met them both, including working with Cara on a few modelling jobs, it seemed especially poignant. After that, I moved on to Coltrane's Love Supreme for a little respite. Finishing with Cat Steven's Very Best Of compilation, I had always loved the melancholy of his songs, especially Wild World and The First Cut is the Deepest, but I bawled myself silly when Sad Lisa came up.

It was gone three in the morning and boredom had set in. I didn't want to uncork another bottle. So, I ended up going to bed where I cried myself to sleep.

I woke up around midday with the hangover to end all hangovers. I drank what water I had left on my bedside table. Tried to wake up by having a shower, but failed miserably. I pulled on a ridiculously oversized Joy Division Unknown Pleasures T-shirt with a pair of yoga pants and went downstairs, not bothering with any makeup, which just wasn't me.

I knew I should eat something, but nothing appealed to me. So, I opted for another bottle of red wine, selecting a Barbaresco that I had plenty of. I opened a bottle and poured myself a glass and started drinking. The crying started immediately as I realised the enormity of my loss once more. I hid, drinking, ashamed, unable to face anyone. It was nearly 4am when I woke up, having fallen asleep on the sofa. I made my way upstairs to bed, where I again cried myself to sleep.

Monday was a blur. I remember shouting obscenities at the woman from the cleaning agency. Telling her to get out for having the temerity of making a noise whilst cleaning. I forced myself to take a walk to the local shops. Where I paid over the odds for pasteurised milk so I could have the bowl of cornflakes I was craving. Of course, I bought more wine. I have a vague memory of ordering a pizza during the evening. Amazingly, I made it to bed before midnight but had another restless, weepy night until I couldn't cry anymore. I just felt so completely and utterly numb.

Tuesday started no better. I was halfway through my third bottle when I was sick. I made it the few yards to the kitchen sink. Thank God I didn't have a major clean-up exercise. Otherwise, in the mood I was in, I would have packed a bag and headed straight to the nearest half decent hotel. Instead, I waited a few minutes to check I would not throw up again. Cleaned up around the sink, which, of course, triggered me to be sick again. After waiting for several minutes, I gave the sink a final rinse before filling a jug with water, grabbing a glass, and heading to bed.

Wednesday, I woke up at an almost respectable hour of 10am. My head was thumping. I made myself a coffee and forced myself to have some dry toast. I needed a bath. The half-drunk bottle of wine looked tempting, however my head was still banging, and the memory of being sick was way too fresh. So, I made another coffee to drink whilst I soaked in the bath.

It was midday by the time I was sitting at my vanity unit ready to do my makeup. I kept it light, if only because Lisa preferred me to tart myself up. Started dressing with an underbust corset teamed with a pair of seamed stockings and thongs, all in black. I selected a black baggy mohair jumper and a leather above-the-knee pencil skirt with a split at the back, just high enough to give the merest glimpse of stocking tops. Finishing with a wide belt with a silver buckle to show off my waist. Followed by a pair of black five-inch stiletto heeled pointy toed lace up ankle boots.

I grabbed a matching black bag into which I put my cards and picked up a lippy, rejected it as a spiteful thought crossed my mind. I started rummaging for a black lipstick. Lisa always sighed when I selected a black lippy. Finding one, I applied a coat to my lips and dropped the tube into my bag. I spent a moment adding to my eyeliner, to ensure I had the perfect classic goth look.

Now, I finally had a plan that didn't involve pickling my brain.

Chapter 5 Pre-emptive

I turned on my phone, and ignoring all the messages, I searched for Townhouse Nails. The nearest two were just about equidistant from the house. I decided I would try to blag myself an appointment at their High St Ken salon. So, I phoned the store and asked to speak to the manager, thanking her for taking my call. I gave her my name. Based on her reaction, I could tell she recognised who I was. I explained my desperate need for a manicure today because I must attend an event this evening. She ummed and ahhed for a few moments until I dangled the prospect of her salon getting a name check in my column.

Which was enough to get her to respond with, "I believe we can fit you in at 4pm."

Objective accomplished, I wrapped the call up.

I considered using the magazine's car service but opted to order an Uber, selected a suitable gothic-style overcoat and went downstairs to wait. I still wasn't up for checking my messages. Although there was one more call I needed to make.

I poured myself a glass of wine to fortify myself for my call to Annie. Fearing she would try to persuade me to abandon Lisa the way she had abandoned me, I knew I had to get Annie on board with my Hail Mary plan to win Lisa back. Annie was the most appropriate person I knew to be my contact point for communications with Lisa. I also needed her to update my will, replacing Lisa as the principal beneficiary with Asha, Gillian and Lisa on the condition that she was no longer married or otherwise involved with this Rob character.

Annie expressed disappointment rather than shock at the turn of events and offered to support me in any way she could. She even suggested we go out this evening and get blind drunk together. I thanked her, telling her I was recovering from a four-day bender and what I needed now was to fuck some random girl or girls. We ended the call, agreeing to have dinner Friday night to work through the details.

I finished my drink as the Uber pulled up. Two and a half hours later, I left Townhouse Nails complete with a gorgeous high gloss black Mani-Pedi. It used to be my signature style before I met Lisa, who always wanted me to paint my nails and lips bright red. Whilst it looked elegant on her, it just made me look like a tart. We compromised on dark burgundies and deep cherry reds to match the tone I let her dye my hair. My return to black felt like a welcome form of revenge, however petty.

Having barely eaten since Saturday, the hunger was getting to me, so I went into some random restaurant and wasted time eating until it was a reasonable hour to hit the bars on the prowl for a one-night stand.

I took a taxi over to a lesbian bar in Soho called SheBar. I walked straight up to the bar and asked what Italian reds they had. The answer was none, but the cute-looking manager who recognised me the moment I entered and made a beeline to serve me asked what I liked, saying she should be able to get a case delivered within half an hour. I expressed my love for Barolo and Barbaresco wines. Accepting the complimentary drink offered to me, I waited on the stool I somehow bagged at the bar, whilst I watched the clientele, eyeing up some likely possibilities.

A little over half an hour later, a glass of wine was placed in front of me by Wendy, the manager, who challenged me to identify the wine. On the basis the wine is a Piedmont red, this could be interesting, both wines are produced less than 10 miles apart, within the Piedmont region, using the same Nebbiolo grape. The fundamental difference was altitude, with Barolo being higher in the mountains and having a cooler climate, generating more tannins. I took a sip. I smiled. It was definitely a Nebbiolo wine. I took another sip to check the tannins. I made my decision. It was a four-year-old Barolo. I was spot on as she showed me the bottle.

Wendy asked, "How can you tell?"

I replied, "Experience, once I've finished consuming this bottle, it will be the twelfth bottle I've drunk in the last five days."

"Are you sure you should be drinking?" She asked, looking somewhat concerned.

"No, but we live in shit times, and I need something to drown out the noise," I replied.

Wendy warned me, "I will cut you off as soon as you look worse for wear."

"Make it a two-bottle limit. I threw up halfway through my third bottle last night," I advised.

She nodded and moved on to deal with another customer.

I returned to eyeing up the talent. Plenty of eyes were on me, but nobody was maintaining contact when I locked my eyes on them. A few girls approached me, one wanting my autograph, the others just didn't feel right.

I caught Wendy's eye. She came over and grabbed the bottle to pour me another glass.

I said, "I needed the loo, but I didn't want to lose my seat."

"I'll look after it for you." She volunteered, sounding a little too eager.

When I returned, she was sitting on my stool, watching something and nothing unfold at the other end of the bar. I came up behind her, placed my hands gently on her shoulders and whispered into her ear, "You know they have the most fantastic service here. If you speak nicely to the manager, she will do almost anything for you."

Wendy blushed, "Thank you."

I looked into her beautiful blue eyes. She glanced back with a certain, longing look. So, I slowly leaned in to kiss her on the lips. She didn't hesitate to return the compliment as she locked her lips on mine and started kissing me back. I pushed my tongue into her mouth as I placed a hand gently on the back of her head. Her tongue met mine as they danced slowly around one another.

We kept it up for several minutes before I broke it off, saying, "I think you have a job to do, and I don't want to get you in trouble. What time do you finish? I'd love to continue this in private."

"1am," she answered.

I had scored. I checked the time. It was coming up to ten thirty, and it looked like everyone else was too shy to play. So, following the traditional mantra 'a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush', I settled down to wait.

A while later, the stool next to me freed up. A woman sat on it almost immediately and started chatting with me. She claimed to have been stood up. Wendy made it obvious that we were together.

She asked me, "How long have you two been together?"

"Not long."

I had learnt long ago not to disclose personal details to strangers, and this woman kept asking personal questions. Which triggered my Spidey senses as I became suspicious about the woman's motives. I clocked a couple of women hanging around nearby, one who looked suspiciously like a paparazzi photographer who had regularly taken my photo when entering and leaving events over the last couple of years.

When I kissed Wendy, there were plenty of flashes as people who recognised me took pictures. It looked like one or more of them contacted a gossip tip line. I played along, it certainly wouldn't do any harm to drum up some personal publicity. But first, I needed a quick word with someone. I stared at the photographer. Once she made eye contact, I made a come-hither movement with my hand. She understood and somewhat reluctantly walked over, no doubt expecting to be told to leave. Well, I intended to make her day; I told her she could use any photos she wanted, provided I vet them first.

She accepted, relieved I hadn't called for security.

I turned back to my new best friend and asked who she worked for, warning her to be honest, and I would give her a scope. She admitted she was with the Daily Mail. Not the best, but far from the worst gossip rag currently in publication. I quickly told her I was due to be getting married in December, but my partner decided her sapphic detour was over when she eloped to Vegas with some Joe Nobody whilst I was away working the spring/summer fashion weeks. If she paints me in a favourable light, I will provide her with plenty more scopes in the future. She checked the angle I was looking for and said she could write it on her phone in fifteen to twenty minutes and have me review it. This girl was clever, she didn't need the mutual advantages spelt out to her. I reviewed it and said I just needed to check one detail.

I called Wendy over. Took hold of both her hands and warned her our kiss was already featuring on various gossip sites. I mentioned about having clocked Abigail as a gossip reporter along with the paparazzi photographer, who is currently taking more photos of us. On the basis, it's always better to control the narrative. I explained why I've given Abigail an exclusive. I apologised for getting her caught up with all my shit and told her I hoped she would still come back to mine.

Wendy confessed, "Oh god, yes, if only because no one would believe me if I didn't."

With that, I gave her the most passionate thank you kiss ever. When I broke away, I glanced at the photographer and received a thumbs up. I checked if Wendy preferred to be known as a 'good friend' or does she favour a name check? She opted for a name check, and making sure that Abigail had noted it correctly, I gave Wendy another deep kiss as I squeezed her bum.

Closing time arrived just as I finished the rest of the bottle. I had ordered an Uber for 1:15am. On the journey home, we made out, no holds barred, letting our hands roam over each other's bodies while putting on an explicit show for the driver's benefit. When we arrived, I asked if she wanted a drink. Wendy suggested we take a bottle of wine with us as we continued to make out. I grabbed a bottle of Moscato, opened it, and took her by the hand, leading her upstairs to my bedroom.

The house impressed Wendy, as she asked if I lived here on my own.

"I do now," I said as I followed up with various dismissive comments about my recent breakup.

She teased me, "So, it's loads of casual sex now."

I replied, "Sort of. Does that bother you?"

"No, but it kind of confirms my suspicion this will be just a one-night stand," she said, sounding somewhat disappointed.

"It doesn't have to be. I'm a great believer in friends with benefits." I teased.

The moment we reached the bedroom, we picked up where we had left off, only this time, I undressed her while we kissed. Once I had her breasts uncovered, I pushed her back onto the bed and started teasing her nipples, using my mouth while I held her arms above her head. I kept driving her until she was begging for more. I pulled her skirt and knickers off. Eased her legs apart and gently dragged my fingers across her lady parts, teasing her. She let out a soft moan. Which provided all the encouragement I needed to slip a couple of fingers into her, homing in on her g-spot whilst I used my mouth to tease her clitoris, alternating between tonguing and nibbling.

She was getting close. I was desperate to push her over the line. So, I slid a finger into her arse. The shock did the trick, as her body exploded with ecstatic pleasure. I showed no mercy as I drove her to multiple orgasms until she experienced a true petite mort moment as she briefly passed out from sensation overload.

We both drank directly from the bottle while she regained her composure. She made a move for my boobs. She had a delicate touch that felt so wonderful, and when she took a nipple in her mouth, I almost came. Eventually, she worked her way down towards my vulva. I warned her I tend to be dry and that she would need to use lube, telling her there should be plenty in the top drawer of the bedside cabinet.

She opened the drawer and gasped, "Oh my God, look at all those toys." There were a couple of strap-on harnesses, along with various dildos, vibrators, dilators, and butt plugs mixed in with several bottles of lube.

I answered, "The night is still young. There will be plenty of time to play with them."

With that, she refocused on the task at hand, grabbed some lube, applied plenty to her fingers and squirted some on the outside of my vajayjay. She gently worked a couple of fingers in. I moaned with pleasure as I tried to ride her fingers, giving her all the encouragement she needed to fuck me. She located my magic spot almost immediately and had me on the edge in no time. As she triggered my first orgasm when she pulled the same move I used on her of pushing a finger into the butt. She had the good grace to keep driving me through my orgasm, pushing me to my next few climaxes until I couldn't tell when one ended and the next one started. She continued until I felt the world slip away as I slowly passed out from the extreme pleasure.

As I came around, she was staring at the toys with the wine bottle in her hand. I took a swig and then suggested we use a strap-on. She confessed to never having used one before. I grabbed a harness with a double-ended dildo and put it on. I laid down on the bed and told Wendy that when I am receiving, I always prefer to ride cowgirl style. She didn't need telling twice and was soon sat straddling me just below my lap. She lifted herself onto her knees and inched her way forward, positioning herself so the end of the dildo was barely touching the entrance to her vag. I advised her to use her hand to guide it in. Which she did, easily taking half of it in one go. She took more as I flexed my hips, slowly pushing it in deeper. Wendy let out a little squeal, followed by a pleasurable moan as she took the rest until we were pressing skin against skin.

I decide to fuck her real slow whilst playing with her boobs as I gradually moved my hips up and down with a little lateral movement. I cupped my hands round her breasts. Keeping the slow pace up, I massaged her breasts with my hands. Gently rubbing and pinching her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. Wendy continued to moan as she responded by riding in time with me. She played with my breasts, getting a favourable, "Oh yes," response from me. We slowly started picking up the pace. I could feel myself getting close when Wendy ground herself down onto me. With a few well-timed thrusts from me, she was experiencing a complete body climax. I worked her through it, keeping myself on the edge, and drove her to another orgasm. I could feel hers building alongside mine, and with a little extra push from me, we came in unison.

Together, we worked each other through our orgasms. Stretching them out as long as I could until she collapsed onto me and whispered, "Wow, so that's what it's like to be fucked with a dick."

"Have you never experimented with men?"

"No, men just do nothing for me."

"I get it. I do not know what makes a man good-looking," I added.

She climbed off me, settling down beside me. She kissed me and said, "Thank you."

"Back at you," I added.

She gently played with one of my nipple rings. "I like these."

Fascinated by her reaction, I needed to know how open Wendy was to having body modifications of her own. "I should see a friend tomorrow, well later today, who does piercings. I'm sure she would love to pierce yours, if you are up for it, once we've finished playing."

She exclaimed, "God, just how kinky are you?"

"That sounded like a definite maybe to me."

"It wasn't a no. I've had a few three-some's in the past, but they often end up with one person not getting gratified."

"No danger of that here. Two of us will wear strap-ons and use them on the third person in both the front and back doors. I presume you've had anal sex before?"

"I've been fingered up there, but that's about it."

"Oh, you don't know what you have been missing, honey. Hang on." I turned over and started looking for medium size butt plug. Finding one, I showed it to her and asked, "Are you up for this?"

She took a deep breath and whispered, "Yes."

"Roll onto your side, bum towards me." I applied some lube to the plug and my fingers. "First, I'm going to push in a couple of fingers to loosen you up." She nodded as I slipped in a finger, followed by another as I opened her up. Once she felt nice and loose, I warned her, "OK, I'm about to push it in. There will be a brief, slightly painful moment as it passes your sphincter, followed by a nice, full sensation." I slowly twisted it into her rose. She did well, only letting out one little yelp as it locked over her sphincter. "How does that feel?" I asked.

"Full, but strangely good," she replied.

"If you want to experience a long, drawn-out whole-body orgasm, try dry humping my thigh."

Wendy rolled back round, kissed me, then mounted me again, positioning the bottom of the plug against the centre of my thigh and rode up and down, slowly at first but soon picking up the pace. She started moaning as the sensations took hold of her. She kept upping the pace, increasing her moaning until her orgasm hit when her pace suddenly dropped to slow motion as she let out a lengthy drawn out, "Oh, yes," and rode her orgasm for what must have been close to five minutes.

Wendy collapsed by my side, wearing a satisfied grin on her face.

I asked her, "Would you like to try a bigger plug?"

She said, "I'm feeling spent after that."

"I bet it doesn't feel half as full now as when I first inserted it."

She confessed, "It doesn't."

I teased her, "Surely you want to fall asleep feeling full?"

She let out an expectant-sounding, "Um."

I said I would replace the plug with the next size up. She made positive noises, so I rolled over as I looked through the draw for a butt plug a quarter inch wider than the one she currently had in her. I located one with a blue jewelled end, applied some lube. Discarded the one she had in already, using a twisting movement. She winced momentarily as I pulled it free. I reminded her of the pain as I slowly twisted the bigger one in. I could tell when it was about to get painful, so I gave it one final push and twist to ensure it went home in one.

Wendy let out a shriek followed by, "Shit, that hurt. What are you trying to do to me?"

"Make you my slut," I answered as I gave her bum a friendly slap.

She called me a bitch, sounding far more eager than mad.

"I bet you feel nice and full again."

"Yes, but I have a question: shouldn't I have an enema or something before taking something up the bum?"

"To douche or not," I sighed as I took a deep breath. "Most people's rectums are generally poop free. The purpose of douching is to clean the rectum and minimise the chances of encountering any stray poop. There are some downsides, though: It needs to be done two hours before penetration. Plus, you should only douche two to three times a week to avoid damaging the rectum. Too frequent douching can remove the protective mucus that helps protect you from infections. So, on balance, I prefer not to douche and deal with any errant poop with a wet cloth."

"That makes sense. Thanks for the explanation." She yawned. "I think I need some sleep now."

I turned the bedside light off and spooned against her back, placing one hand gently on her bits with no intention of bringing her off whilst we drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 6 Culpable

I was woken up by the doorbell, along with the home security app on my phone going off. It was barely eleven. Well, at least I managed over six hours in bed without crying as I struggled out of bed. I answered the door, dressed just in a corset, stockings and boots. Gillian was at the door. She greeted me with an almost deafening, "Well, you are still alive then. Why haven't you been answering your phone?"

"Yes, come in, and please stop yelling." I pleaded.

"Have you seen the gossip sites? Has Lisa really married some bloke? And why haven't you told me? Asha is on her way over. I'm surprised I beat her here."

At that moment, a naked Wendy poked her head over the bannisters, which triggered another tirade. "And there is the tart you were spotted with last night, oh how brilliant," she exclaimed.

"Yes, it's true about Lisa." I snapped. Then, trying to be more measured whilst asserting some control, "Now please make yourself useful and brew a pot of coffee and bring it up to my bedroom along with cups, milk and sugar for everyone, whilst we have a shower and get dressed." I took a breath before adding, "Call Asha and find out how far out she is. If anybody wants milk with their coffee, you had better tell her to pick some up. I intend to tell everyone what is happening once and once only. I'm so not in the right frame of mind to repeat myself." Sounding way bitchier than intended.

I didn't wait for an acknowledgement before heading straight back upstairs. Passing Wendy, I asked, "Are you coming?" Sounding more like a demand than a question. I glanced behind me to check she was following. She was, as I realised I was smiling, as I felt my natural assertiveness return. I just had to remember to keep the bitchiness in check.

We sat on the edge of the bed whilst I removed my boots, stockings and corset. "I'm sorry for the way you were woken up." Then, adding as if it was an afterthought, "I was hoping to have some more fun this morning."

"Me too," Wendy replied.

"I hope you are OK hanging around whilst I explain my recent behaviour to my friends," I continued.

"Like answering your front door with your private parts on full display?" She asked playfully.

"Oh, that's normal. I'm a bit of an exhibitionist. I have absolutely no problem exploiting my body for gain. You should try searching for my name along with something like boobs, you will get plenty of hits." Wendy blanched. "Plus, when I checked the video doorbell feed on my phone, I could see it was Gillian." I'd finished unlacing my corset, so I stood up to unhook and remove it. "You will join me in the shower I assume?" I held out my hand, not giving her any actual choice.

Wendy took my hand as I led her into the ensuite bathroom with its elegant slipper bath in the middle of the room. "Oh, wow," she exclaimed as we entered. "This is gorgeous. I swear it's bigger than my whole bedsit."

"It's nice. You know it's kind of famous. It has featured in a couple of 'Homes and Gardens' articles. One about the house and one focused on bathrooms," I stated somewhat dismissively as I continued towards the walk-in shower.

When we entered, I grabbed her other hand, raised them over her head and pinned her to the wall, and started kissing her. Manoeuvring my grip on her hands until I was holding her with one hand, pinning both her wrists so I could play with her nunny with my free hand. "I so wanted to fuck you this morning. It looks like a quickie in the shower will have to do," as I used my free hand to turn the shower on.

Wendy muttered her approval when I started playing with her slit, inserting a couple of fingers and heading straight for her pleasure centre. Her body responded immediately. I started using my thumb to toy her clitoris. She was almost there. I slid my little finger, so it was over the butt plug she was still wearing. Then I squeezed my hand just enough to put pressure on all three pleasure points together, providing the final impetus needed to send her over the edge.

We were enjoying the post-climactic bliss when Asha, who had sneaked into the bathroom, announced, "That looked so hot, can I join in?"

I jumped. "What the hell? Are you trying to give me a heart attack or something?" I paused while Asha giggled before adding, "You will have to wait till this evening. You will need to bring your piercing kit because Wendy here wants her nipples pierced."

Gillian was leaning against the doorjamb. "So, you've already replaced the traitorous bitch."

"Hang on, let's slow down and take our time. Towels please." With that, I restored an element of sense to the proceedings. I did the introductions whilst we were drying off. I started by asking Wendy what she knew about the three of us. She just needed me to fill in on my CIO executive background, including Asha's part in it. Gillian ensured Wendy was in no doubt as to my importance to the Gilly Bell brand.

Wendy and I were now sitting naked at the vanity drinking coffee, mine black, no sugar, everyone else, milk with sugar. Asha, knowing me all too well, had already stopped for milk before Gillian's reminder call. It's not like I never had milk. It's more like I only buy enough to go on my cereals when I fancy them, and then I always buy full fat milk that hasn't been standardised. Whereas Asha and Gillian prefer the abomination known as semi-skimmed.

Next, I told them what I knew about Wendy. Who added a little more colour, bemoaning, light-heartedly, that we can't all be rich bitches. I couldn't let that lie, so I had to inject a comment about having earned our money through years of working eighty-plus hour weeks and making our own luck.

Finally, it was time to bring everyone up to speed, starting with, for Wendy's benefit, a brief history of Lisa and me before laying out what had happened over the last week. Short story: Lisa went and eloped with some gold digger, leaving me a Dear Jane letter on the kitchen worktop. I switched my phone off and went on an alcohol fuelled bender, which lasted until I was sick. Which I didn't like, so I decided I needed to fuck some stranger, and was 'caught' on camera. So, to keep control of the narrative, I spoke to the press, hence how Wendy got caught up in all this.

I asked if anyone had questions. Asha congratulated Wendy on achieving her fifteen minutes of fame before asking if I was through with the salon.

No, I replied and told them about the plan to win Lisa back. Opinions were divided on whether she was worth it. I said I still loved and wanted her, although I was unsure if I could ever trust her again.

Gillian challenged me to think about what I was doing with Wendy if I wanted Lisa back. I said I wouldn't be a celibate nun while I waited. She then questioned whether I was being fair to Wendy.

Wendy beat me to the response, saying I'd been honest in positioning this as a 'friends with benefits' relationship at best.

Asha had a smug look about her. She had confessed to fancying me not long after I hooked up with Lisa. She never held it against me, being content with the regular threesomes, when Lisa and I welcomed her into our bed. Asha had honoured our agreement that we only played with her when Lisa and I were both present. I suspected Asha was quietly ecstatic that I was planning on breaking the agreement with my "wait till this evening" comment. If I knew Asha, I'd expect her to use this as an opportunity to replace Lisa. At the very least, my relationship with Asha will provide leverage if and when I get Lisa back.

Gillian asked, "When are you off again?"

"Monday week. I'm off to NYC, I'll should be back on the following Friday." Then, adding, to address Wendy's confused look, "I split my time between here and New York. I consider the UK home and spend most of my time here."

Next, Gillian asked, "Are you coming along to the club this evening?"

"Of course." Then, I added, "Wendy will also join us when she finishes work.

That triggered an immediate rebuke from Wendy. "Oh, thanks. I have to go home and get ready to go clubbing straight after working an eight-hour shift."

I took a deep breath before replying. "Calm down, we will feed, dress, and provide transport. I will even do your makeup. Remember, I'm an internationally recognised style guru, and I can do things to you that will really make you pop."

Gillian ordered Wendy to stand up, drop the towel and turn around nice and slow so she could see what we had to work with. She commented she thought the butt plug look good in her before announcing that Wendy is about the same size as me, just shorter in the body, but we will need to get shoes delivered as she only has size 4 or 5 feet. Wendy confirmed her feet were size 5. As a check, Gillian invited her to try her size 5 shoes on, which Wendy did. They were a comfortable fit even when Wendy tried walking in them.

I told Wendy to follow me as I headed into the walk-in closet, with Gillian and Asha following behind. Wendy was completely speechless upon entering, just staring open-mouthed.

Asha quietly said to her, "It had the same effect on me when I first saw it."

I said to Gillian, "I was thinking we could try a latex skater dress. If the length doesn't work, we could try separates like a vest top with a pencil skirt, both in latex. Alternatively, we could go with a PVC overbust corset with a PVC skirt."

Gillian added, "She has a nice figure. It is borderline between rectangle and hourglass. We could try a latex bra instead of the vest top."

Wendy interrupted, "I'm not going to work looking like I should be at some fetish club."

I explained, "Honey, we host and run a fetish club every Thursday evening, hence the choice of clothing, and don't worry about what you are wearing. Chances are that you will have a bumper evening thanks to the publicity we've generated. You should own it and be prepared to exploit your notoriety to maximise the benefits for both you and the business."

The poor girl fell silent as the enormity of the situation she found herself in finally hit her.

We tried several outfits, settling on a bra style top with a high waist pencil skirt that came up almost to her belly button, both items in the same electric blue latex. Gillian made a call to arrange for shoes to be delivered in sizes Euro 37, 38 and 39 to ensure the best possible fit. She stated a heel size of around 12cm with a minimum of 10cm, ideally stiletto heels but including slimmer block heels. Next, she ran through various styles, including ankle boots and pumps with and without straps. She took and sent a picture of Wendy dressed in the clothes to aid in colour matching and suggested they send black and nude options as a fallback. Once she finished the call, she told us they would be here around 2:30pm.

I remembered our promise to feed Wendy. "Asha, can you organise some food to be delivered? Anything but pizza gets my vote."

I spent the next few minutes doing my makeup while the others debated what food to order. My only contribution was to provide the name of my favourite local Thai restaurant.

Once I was finished doing my makeup, I started on Wendy's, asking her, "What colours do you typically wear?"

She replied, "I normally stick with muted colours, especially nudes, with black eyeliner and mascara."

Her choice was fine for everyday wear but a little tame for a night out, so I asked her, "How brave are you feeling? For example, would you be up to wearing blue lipstick that matched your clothes, or would you rather stick with nudes?"

"I'll go with whatever you recommend."

She voted brave. I smiled as both Gillian and I sang in unison, "Blue."

I told Gillian we would need to do something with Wendy's nails. We wouldn't be able to get Kim up here or her into anywhere decent in the time we have available. So, I suggested Gillian ask whoever is bringing the shoes over to swing by a decent Superdrug or Boots to pick up a bottle of Essie Aruba Blue.

I set to work on her face, explaining everything I was doing. Within a few minutes, I had applied a MAC liquid foundation sparing over her face and neck blending onto her chest. She needed minimal contouring, so I moved straight onto her eyebrows. They could have done with full sculpting, but I settled on plucking the most errant hairs, followed with simple brushing into shape to enhance their natural appearance. Moving on to her eyes, I went with a powder blue based minimal graduated look above her eyes paired with black eyeliner applied in a restrained reverse cat eye style with black kohl applied in the waterline to add depth. Finished with Max Factor black mascara to give her naturally long lashes some volume. On her lips, I went with the wonderful dark blue NYX Midnight Muse matte lipstick. I used a MAC cyan paint stick for blusher, sparingly applied via brush and blended to highlight her cheekbones with a gentle blue glow.

Wendy was expecting something far heavier. She adored the focus on her eyes, with the blue of her lips echoing the blue of her eyes. Wendy confessed seeing herself using this avant-garde look every day. Hearing and seeing her reaction gave me a nice warm feeling, more so than I was expecting, and then it hit me. I was falling for her. I soon parked that notion before telling her the key to stunning makeup is to keep it simple.

It was high time I put some clothes on. So, I selected a black leather overbust corset, which I paired with black stretch leather leggings. I finished the look with a pair of black leather thigh-length boots with 15 cm stiletto heels, a matching clutch bag, and my favourite black leather biker jacket.

I suggested we go downstairs to wait for the food delivery. Asha was sitting at the refectory table in the kitchen. She smiled as we entered and told us, "Food should be delivered in the next twenty minutes. I've ordered one of just about everything on the lunch menu because I wasn't sure what everybody liked or fancied."

Working on Wendy's makeup reminded me of an old desire I had for blue hair. It was Lisa's reaction that had held me back. She said nothing bad; it was just her withering look that killed the idea. Now, nothing stood in my way. One thing I had learnt from Lisa and Jane was natural balayage styles look better than solid colours. So, the oil slick hair trend, which applies a mix of dark blue, green, and purple tones over black hair, appealed to me.

I asked Gillian if she would tidy up Wendy's nails, ready for when we have some polish, whilst I just spent some time arranging something. Seeking a little privacy, I went to the study. I phoned Jane and Kim to invite them and their partners to the house on Sunday. I promised I would cook lunch and give them a full update if they would do my hair and nails. Jane was so up for doing my hair, she accepted on behalf of them both. After all, she offered when I originally mentioned going blue the day we first met. Kim commented she was glad about my decision to return to metallic effect nails. I mentioned there might be a second person wanting similar treatments.

Jane said that Lisa was back in today and was receiving the cold shoulder from everyone. She added it helped that I appeared in the Mail's gossip section with some cute new girl in tow accompanied by a story about picking myself up after having been dumped. She was so hoping the second person was this new girl so she could take great delight in telling Lisa just how wonderful she is.

I re-joined the group just as the food arrived. As we were finishing eating, something I'd spent the last few days pushing to the back of my mind hit me. I was going to have to cancel the wedding, including sending out cancellation letters to invitees. The moment I mentioned it to the girls, all the pain came flooding back as I broke down in an uncontrollable fit of sobbing. I just couldn't control myself. Asha was there, hugging and trying to comfort me in a flash. She had plenty of practice dealing with my hormone induced teary emotions, having witnessed the impact of my first year on hormones firsthand. I hung onto her for the best part of ten minutes as I slowly regained a modicum of control.

"Sorry for that. Everything is still a little raw. I think I need to exorcise a certain ghost."

I excused myself as I went for a walk in the garden alone for a few minutes to help myself reclaim my composure. Asha and Wendy were standing by a window, watching over me. They were talking together until Asha gave Wendy a deep hug and kiss before walking away, giving me a last glance. I liked Wendy and was looking forward to getting to know her better. Neither did I have a desire to see her hurt. So, I guessed it was time to check up on her.

I went inside and hugged Wendy, apologising again. "I really like you, and I hope you stick around, but I would completely understand if you wanted to bail."

Wendy replied, "The feeling is mutual. I think you are handling this remarkably well, so I'm staying if it's OK with you."

I reassured her it most certainly was and checked whether she was concerned about being a rebound fling.

She teased, "So there's a possibility we could be more than just friends with benefits."

I tightened our hug, thanked her again, and moved on to give Gillian and Asha hugs. I thanked Gillian for taking the day off to be with me, promising her I would spend tomorrow afternoon and most of the next week working with her. Although I knew I didn't need to thank Asha, I did anyway and asked if she would help me with the cancellation letters on Saturday.

Asha hugged me back. "Andi, you know I love you and would follow you into hell. Of course, I'll help." She paused before adding, "I needed to pop back to mine to get changed and collect my gear. I promise I'll be back by 4pm at the latest."

Before Asha had a chance to leave, a brilliant idea popped into my head. So, I announced we need to have a girl's night out the day I should have been married. They were very much in favour. Wendy said it needed a name such as The Stabbed in the Back Wedding. I loved the idea it needed a name and was impressed by her suggestion, but felt we could do better. We batted ideas back and forth. I loved the Wake for a Still Born Wedding but felt the optics could be disastrous. So, we agreed on Wake for a Dead Wedding. Gillian even offered to produce a black version of my wedding dress. I accepted her offer on the condition that she made each of the attendees a black version of the bridesmaid's dresses. Gillian inquired how many girls would be attending.

I did a quick verbal head count of the invitees, "You guys, Gillian's girlfriend Brittany, Susan and her wife Amber, Amanda, Phoebe, Annie, Jane and Kim, plus their girlfriends Mel and Vicky, giving a grand total of twelve. They had all accepted the wedding invitations, so it's safe to assume they would be all be available."

Gillian accepted on the condition that she had the girls' measurements by the 1st of November.

Twenty minutes later, a small van pulled up, driven by Megan, one of Gillian's assistants, with about three dozen pairs of boxed shoes in the back, packed in a couple of larger boxes. Gillian and I grabbed a box each, with Megan bringing the nail polish she'd acquired on the way over.

Because Megan knew what shoes she had bought along, Gillian invited Megan to lead the proceedings. Megan glanced towards Wendy, seeking confirmation they were for her. After receiving an affirmative response, she instructed Wendy to turn round slowly so she could appraise her. Megan selected a couple of pairs of blue patent leather shoes. The shoes fitted, but the colour wasn't perfect. So Megan pulled out another couple of pairs. Again, the shade wasn't quite right, being a little too dark. Next, she grabbed a classic-looking pair of black patent leather pumps, but they didn't zing either. Which left six pairs of nude coloured patent leather shoes. Colour wise, they were the perfect contrast to the skirt and bra top along with being an exact match to her skin tone. We selected various styles and had Wendy check the fit. It came down to two pairs of pointed toe shoes: lace up ankle boots with 11cm heels or classic pointed toe pumps with 13cm heels with a 1cm platform.

Wendy stated, "I hardly ever wear heels and certainly not when I'm working all night."

Gillian countered with, "These are all top-quality, comfortable shoes designed for all day wear."

Wendy had to agree that all the shoes she had tried were comfortable.

I added, "Gillian, Asha and I typically wear heels for twelve to sixteen hours a day every day. I recommend you go with the ankle boots because being boots, they provide better around support, plus they have a slightly lower heel than the pumps." To prove the point, I showed her a website that used a little dial against all their heeled shoes to show how easy the shoe was to walk in and wear all day, selecting similar shoes to illustrate my point.

Besides, I added, "If you want to hang out with me, you need to look like you belong, which means you wearing heels pretty much full time, especially as you will be a potential target of the paparazzi. Don't worry, you will soon get used to wearing them all day, and in no time at all, you won't be comfortable in flat shoes as your Achilles tendons and calf muscles adapt to wearing heels." I paused for a moment before adding, "You can have both pairs plus another couple in black to ensure you have plenty of choice."

I knew she was hooked when, with a cheeky grin, she asked, "What don't I get a couple of blue pairs for good measure?"

"You can have all the pairs that fit if you promise to commit to wearing heels full time."

She replied with a simple, "Of course." As her face flushed red.

I had an hour to paint her nails before we needed to transport her to work. So, rather than waste any more time, I set to whilst Gillian and Megan loaded the excess shoes into the van, and they left together. Gillian promising to see us both later.

We talked while I painted Wendy's nails. I updated her on the evening's transport arrangements, followed by a chat about nothing in particular, before casually mentioning that I saw her talking to Asha when I was in the garden.

She said, "It was just Asha apologising for stepping in so quickly to console you."

"Asha looked out for me when I first started taking HRT. My body doesn't generate enough estrogen on its own, and effectively going through puberty as a young exec in your twenties isn't fun, what with all the emotions it triggers."

Wendy replied, saying that is essentially what Asha told her.

I knew I was obfuscating somewhat, but I wasn't lying. I wasn't ashamed about being transgender. However, being perceived as an authentic woman was paramount, which gave me all the justification I needed to indulge in a little judicious withholding of certain facts.

Anyway, I made some rather flippant remarks about Asha, always over sharing before changing the subject.

Chapter 7 Wanton

I was just finishing applying the third coat when the doorbell rang. I told Wendy to sit still and not to touch her nails for at least twenty minutes. Oh, how I so prefer gel polish. It was Asha returning. I let her in. She went upstairs to drop off her bags. She was back downstairs a few minutes later, brandishing a couple of metal slave collars.

Asha turned to Wendy, "Are you game? I usually go as Andi's slave."

Wendy replied, "Yes," without hesitation.

"Be careful, I have a nasty habit of leaving the collars on my slaves for several days."

"I trust you. Your pushing of my boundaries kind of excites me, while it also terrifies me. Just look at how I'm willingly going to work: I have a plug up my butt, I'm dressed in skimpy latex and I'm wearing killer heels. So wearing a collar just seems so appropriate." Wendy confessed.

I pushed, "So you accept me as your mistress?"

She immediately replied, "Yes."

I gave it a moment. "Yes, what?"

Wendy looked confused.

Asha interjected with a whispered, "Yes, mistress."

"Oh. Yes, mistress," Wendy said as she caught on.

I finished fitting the collars and went to fetch a bag and coat for Wendy. Five minutes later, I was back with a Kate Spade backpack and a cropped leather biker jacket that were both a close match colour wise to her shoes. I asked if I could transfer her purse and phone over from her bag, telling her I had already placed the makeup I used to create her look inside the bag. She thanked me and asked for her keys as well.

At 4:20pm, the driver pulled away from the house as he took us towards Old Compton St. through early evening traffic. We arrived at 4:45pm and went in with Wendy. Asha and I chatted while Wendy worked the bar and the clientele. She was actively being encouraged by one of the directors, who just decided to drop by unannounced. The director came over to talk, or more accurately, to sus us out. It transpired they were expecting a busier night than usual, thanks to yours truly. By the time our driver picked Asha and me up at 8:20pm, it certainly seemed busier than the previous night.

We arrived at the club a good half an hour before it was due to open at 9pm. Asha was working the door, enforcing the dress code. I was tonight's host, so I went and had a chat with the DJ. I suggested that tonight's music needed to have a definite rock bias telling him to think in terms of anything by Evanescence or The Pretty Reckless tempered with the likes of St Vincent and Florence + The Machine along with classics like Bowie's 'Ziggy Stardust', Roxy Music's 'Virginia Plain' or anything by Queen.

Gillian arrived accompanied by her long-term partner, Brittany, as I was finishing up with the DJ. We chatted briefly. It felt good to be back at the club. I had only been in the country on club night once during the last eight weeks. It turned out to be a great night with more people dancing than normal. The DJ kept to the theme, unsurprisingly sticking to more danceable rock tracks with a definite bias towards old skool songs. As I did the rounds, several people commented favourably on the music.

Wendy arrived a little before one thirty. I greeted her with a kiss and attached a lead to the O-ring on her collar. She rather cautiously thanked me. She looked so out of her depth yet cute that she was totally adorable. I felt a real sense of power over her. I just had to exploit it as I walked her around the club with her on a lead, laughing and joking with punters.

2am, the door officially closed, and Asha appeared with a couple of naked girls. Naked apart from the collars and killer heels they were wearing. Asha was leading them by their leases. They both had their hands cuffed behind their backs and ball gags in their mouths.

"I bought toys," Asha announced. "They wanted entry, but they didn't meet the dress code, so I made them an offer to be my sex slaves for the night and they accepted."

I was intrigued. I knew Asha had expressed an interest in lesbian orgies but I thought they were just fantasies. The handcuffs and ball gags were not a surprise. When she was with Lisa and me, we occasionally used cuffs to hold down either Asha or Lisa to the bed and used ball gags for added submission.

I kissed Asha and attached a lead to her collar. "You are such a dirty little slut."

"I know," Asha replied. "Which one do you want, Wendy?"

Wendy stood there in a state of shock.

"Well, don't be rude, choose one," I said. "They are both good looking, which one do you want to fuck?"

The girls exchanged glances. I presumed it was excitement, as there wasn't any hint of distress in their demeanour.

Wendy finally caught on, "You want me to be your slut, mistress, so I want to fuck both of them."

"Good answer, slave." Running with the theme came easy, "Don't worry, I'm sure we will all get to fuck them both and each other later. You can use them as practice for fucking when wearing a strap-on. Choose one."

"I need to ask them some questions."

Asha interjected, "Slide your finger under the strap near the mouth to pull the gag out."

Wendy did as instructed, kissing them passionately before asking, "I'm your queen. How are you going to drive me to satisfaction?" They both gave their answers. She picked the one she preferred the answer of best and replaced their ball gags.

I warned Wendy and Asha not to ask the girls their names, explaining that they were, as Asha described, just fuck toys.

The club was open until 4am, but typically, during the last hour, the crowd slowly dwindled. I arranged for the car to be waiting from 3am. We left around a quarter past. Thankfully, the girls had turned up wearing three-quarter length coats, so they just had to slip their coats on once we had uncuffed them. On the journey home, we checked we had their consent to fuck them as we saw fit, offing them one last chance to back out. They both eagerly consented. We were home by 3:40am and headed straight to my bedroom to play.

I unclipped Wendy and Asha's leashes when we entered the bedroom and told Wendy to use her slave as she felt fit, inviting her to use the far side of the bed. Opening the toy drawer, I grabbed a couple of strap-ons, plus some lube. I passed one to Asha and asked her if she was taking the front or back door. She opted for bum.

By the time we had put our strap-ons on, Wendy was already sitting on her girl's face, enjoying being queened.

I told the other girl what we had planned for her. She flinched. I smiled and told her to lie on the bed face down. As soon as she was down, Asha pushed a couple of lube covered fingers into the girl's bum. She worked them in and out and around for a while before adding a third finger. When Asha felt she had stretched her out enough, she told the girl to get up. Asha took her place on the bed and told the girl to get on top, facing away from her, ready to receive Asha's strap-on in her arse. The girl complied, positioning herself over the strap-on and slowly sank down, taking it all without pausing, until she was pressing skin against skin. She moaned as she experienced a combination of pain and pleasure.

Wendy was seriously enjoying herself. She had been watching us play, and with what her girl was doing to her, she was only just holding on. Suddenly, she dropped onto the girl's vulva, pushing her legs apart as Wendy literally muffed dived onto the girl. The girl's body bucked in welcome relief.

Asha had grabbed the girl's generous tits and used them as handles to pull her down, so she was lying impaled on top of Asha in preparation to receive me. Asha continued to play with her tits whilst slowly pumping into her arse.

I mounted the bed between Asha and the girl's legs. Crawling up, I looked the girl in the eye until ours faces were level. I blew her a kiss. She tried to kiss me back. I dodged her and shook my head at her. Positioning the head of my strap-on at her vag entrance, I allowed it to slip in an inch. I held it there for a moment before driving it home in one smooth movement as I slowly began to fuck her. Asha pumped her hips in time with my movements. The girl didn't need telling as she moved in time to maximise the sensations she was experiencing.

Wendy and her girl came together. Wendy had learnt from last night to push on through seeking that next orgasm and was driving her girl wild.

Our girl started to experience what appeared to be a long, continuous stream of climaxes. Asha came a few minutes later, and I followed soon after. We both kept pumping the girl, who was now nothing more than a moaning wreck that kept tensioning up on every gasped breath. Asha came a second time, which triggered a massive surge in the girl's responses, followed by her going completely limp as she passed out. I was close, so I pushed myself to my next orgasm. I gave it a moment to recover before withdrawing from the girl. The girl was totally spent and would need some time to recover before swapping with Wendy's girl.

Wendy was still going strong. Her girl had resumed servicing her. When I talked to Wendy later, she said she had to grind her fanny in the girl's face to remind her she still needed satisfying. It took another five minutes before Wendy experienced a massive climax that delivered that petit mort sensation as she briefly lost consciousness. As she came round, she sat up. I leaned over and kissed her passionately.

When she broke the kiss, I asked, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

She replied with a simple heartfelt, "I'm loving it."

"I knew you would. Do you think it's time to swap, girls?"

Wendy nodded her agreement.

I turned to Wendy's girl and asked, "Can you go into the bathroom and pick up a couple of damp flannels for cleaning the strap-on dildos?" She made a face, so I retorted, "Do you really want your friend's faeces pushed into your arse?" The mere thought was enough, as she scampered into the bathroom a couple of seconds later.

We swapped girls and repeated ourselves. Asha and I drove our second girl to a state of pure bliss within half the time as our first girl, thanks to Wendy having seriously warmed her up. The other girl was still in such a high state of arousal that Wendy had her finished within five minutes. Wendy spent her remaining time spooning with the girl whilst fingering and talking dirty in her ear, positioned so that they could both watch Asha and me fuck her friend.

Another cleanup and it was Wendy's turn. She pushed Asha's phallus straight into her crotch and turned to me and demanded her arse needed fucking. I told the girls to go to either side and play with her breasts. I pulled her butt plug out and discarded it on the floor. Wendy moaned with disappointment as it left her body.

I mounted her, driving my strap-on home in one smooth action. Wendy let out a deep "Oh, yes." Followed by "Thank you, mistress." She was supporting herself on her arms primarily to allow the girls to lock their mouths onto her nipples. I drove into her hard. She responded in kind fucking herself on the end of Asha's strap-on while I continued to peg her. Turning her head, she looked at me with pure craving in her eyes. She soon came, yelling with pleasure. It didn't stop her or me as we continued to fuck. She shouted for the girls to bite her nipples. She was soon coming again. This time, it was much more prolonged. We continued. There was a gap between orgasms, but it didn't last long as she was hit by a massive orgasm so intense she blacked out again and collapsed onto Asha.

I carefully pulled out and gently laid her down, having told the girls to stand back. As she came around, she demanded the return of her butt plug. I reminded her she needed to recover quickly so she could fuck Asha and myself. She said she would be ready as soon as her butt plug was back in place.

A few minutes later Wendy, with butt plug restored, was tightening the belt of her strap-on. I said I was going underneath, and she was going to peg Asha from above doggy style. I took my place. Asha mounted me, making a show of slowly taking me in one smooth drawn out movement before gently fucking herself. Wendy mounted her and was soon inside Asha's bum, fucking her, taking a little longer to get into the groove, it being her first time using a strap-on to fuck someone.

I had the girls concentrate on Asha's breasts, just as they had for Wendy. Asha was no stranger to being double penetrated by a couple of strap-on wearing women and knew just how to add some lateral movement to the mix, so we were all soon experiencing a series of orgasms.

Finally, it was my turn. It felt truly sublime. Wendy was both confident and assured of her movements. She had such a true natural talent, I was struggling to believe this was her first time using a strap-on. I responded, using the same figure-eight movement as Asha. We were all soon back in heaven. I was completely gone for what felt like an eternity, the two girls sucking and biting my nipples providing a truly wonderful additional level of sensation. Eventually, the pleasure became too much for me, as I lost consciousness.

I came around as Wendy was withdrawing her dildo. I let out a moan, half pleasure, half disappointment, as it slipped away. She kissed and thanked me.

The girls stood up. One of them checked the time and noted it was nearly 6am and started complaining about needing to prepare for work. They thanked us for a fantastic time. Twenty minutes later, Asha saw them out when their Uber arrived after they thanked us for a wonderful night.

Wendy and I were lying alone in bed. She placed her hand on my left breast and slowly made her way down there. On arrival, she pressed down a little and started rubbing. I responded positively so Wendy twisted herself around lifted my right leg and slid her legs either side of me, so our pussies were pressing against one another. She started to mash her girly bits against mine. I let out a gasp of delight. Lisa and I had tried scissoring, but it was nothing like this. Oh, I'm so going to learn new tricks from Wendy as I work out what Lisa and I were going wrong.

Asha returned and took one look at us and stated, "Surly you two have had enough."

Wendy responded with, "Mistress's new slut is insatiable," and followed up with an invitation for Asha to get involved.

Asha declined. Instead, she laid on her side, watching us with a satisfied smile on her face. We came all too soon, collapsing, exhausted. Asha bent over and gave me a loving kiss, followed by telling me, "I'll never abandon you, Mistress." As she pulled me in for a hug.

I felt tears beginning to build up, but crying was not something I wanted to do, so I smoothly thanked Asha and invited Wendy to join our hug. Asha broke the group hug, suggesting we needed to get some shuteye. I fell asleep laid on my back with my arms around them both.

We woke later that morning, around 10:30am and made love until we were feeling satiated. Asha then grabbed her piercing kit and went to work on Wendy, starting with replacing the hoop in her right nostril with a diamond stud.

Wendy exclaimed, "Oh God, you are going to pierce my other nostril and septum, aren't you?"

"You can stop at any point," I reassured her.

"Do it," she immediately replied, before adding, "I enjoy being your slave, mistress."

Asha continued, piercing Wendy's left nostril and placing a matching diamond stud in it. Next was Wendy's septum, followed by her nipples, all fitted with ball closure rings.

Asha wanted to add another piercing to the bottom of her belly button. Wendy pushed back, declining, saying she wanted her clitoris pierced like Asha's. Asha checked its suitability, and in next to no time, Wendy had a curved barbell fitted through her new vertical clitoris hood piercing. Asha ended by giving the standard aftercare lecture, along with a bottle of cleaning fluid and a loving kiss.

I noticed the time, so I hurriedly washed, dressed and did my makeup. Along with providing some pointers to Wendy as she did hers in the same style as yesterday.

Neither of them asked for their slave collars to be removed. What with Wendy still wearing her butt plug and choosing to wear high-heeled shoes with the midnight blue ruched long-sleeve bodycon mini dress she was borrowing, I felt strangely empowered after my 48 hours of hedonism.

Chapter 8 Strategies

By the time we were ready, my car was waiting to take me to Gillian's studio. So, I hurried everyone out of the house. Asha drove herself yesterday and, as such, had her own transport. Wendy and I kissed her goodbye on the doorstep. I reminded Asha that I would see her Saturday morning around ten.

My driver took me to Gillian's first before taking Wendy home. I reminded her I would have a car pick her up at 10:30am Sunday if she didn't see me beforehand at the bar. Explaining I had a dinner meeting this evening, and I suspected my parents would show up to check up on me and will inevitably require putting up overnight for some part of the weekend. After all, it's probably not one of my wisest moves, letting my parents find out my marriage isn't happening via the gossip pages.

The afternoon was productive, both professionally and personally. Gillian was a good friend who knew how to get me to talk without triggering teary outbursts, although it came close. We worked through to half seven when it was time for me to meet Annie for dinner.

It was a successful long dinner where we went through the last six months in forensic detail, discussed what I'm looking to achieve and discussed strategies. She kept pushing me to let Lisa go, and set up my salon, poaching the better staff. Even though the salon element was already an option I was considering, I described it as an excellent fallback plan, but I kept reiterating that I was not ready to let her go yet. Of course, Annie accepted the invitation to the Wake of a Dead Wedding party without hesitation. She absolutely loved the gothic funeral wedding concept.

It was gone eleven when I left The Ivy. I'd received a text from my parents telling me they were at the house waiting for me. I was in no hurry to go home, given it was finally sinking in that I'd probably lost Lisa for good, whatever happens. Even if she calls this instance and says she made a terrible mistake. I wasn't sure that I could ever trust her again. So, I crossed Cambridge Circus and walked the short distance to SheBar. I had a couple of drinks with Wendy, apologised about my parents having shown up, and gave her the option of coming back and meeting them. She rather sensibly declined. When my driver arrived, I kissed her goodnight, reminding her I would have a driver pick her up at 10:30am on Sunday.

My parents were waiting for me in the sitting room. I was determined to keep control of the situation. I hugged them both and apologised for not greeting them when they arrived, explaining that I had a dinner meeting with my solicitor. They apologised for turning up unannounced. I confirmed that my wedding was indeed off, giving them the barest details, saying I didn't want to talk about it because it hurt too much, not to mention that I didn't have a clue why she had left me. I excused myself and headed to bed, messaging both Asha and Wendy for moral support more than anything.

Saturday morning, I was up by 9am. My parents were already up when I went and retrieved my normal breakfast of black coffee. I told them that Asha was coming over to help me with the wedding cancellation letters. I suggested we go out for a meal during the evening before telling them I had an all-day business appointment on Sunday at the house, so they would need to leave by 10am.

My mother pushed back, reminding me tomorrow's my birthday. So, I reminded her they had turned up without warning, and she was lucky that I was in the country. I used that as an opportunity to tell them about my new job. Mum commented that it's no wonder my relationship failed if I was going to spend half of the time in the US. I replied with it was already over by the time I received the offer, but I didn't know it, plus Lisa encouraged me to accept it.

Asha arrived a few minutes after ten. I introduced her to my parents, and we disappeared into my study. My mum wasn't happy about being excluded, but I said it was going to be emotional enough with just Asha and me.

I cancelled the venue and the other pre-booked arrangements yesterday, which just left the job of contacting the attendees. Those invited to the Wake of a Dead Wedding girls' night out, I intended to speak to them directly, before sending cancellation emails and letters out to everyone else. Thankfully, Gillian, Annie, Jane, and Kim already knew, which left my cousins Amanda and Phoebe and my best friend, Susan.

I started with Sue. It was incredibly painful, but also weirdly cathartic. Sue commiserated with me and then berated me for not contacting her sooner. She threatened to come down. I begged her not to, as my parents were already here. I then told her about the girls' night out, and she confirmed Abbey and her attendance without hesitating.

Amanda and Phoebe had both heard. I received a message yesterday from Amanda checking in, to which I replied, saying I'm OK and I will phone her sometime over the weekend. Just like Sue, they both immediately accepted the invitation to the girls' night out.

Everyone else received an email and a card informing them we were returning the weekend to them. Truth be told, I'd known for a week and felt guilty about not dealing with this sooner. Part of me was second guessing my actions, thinking that I should have spoken to my parents' last weekend. They would have been sure to have come down and sorted everything out for me. But I was way too angry and in denial to deal with it rationally a week ago.

We talked as we worked. I gave Asha a key to the house, partially so she could let herself in and partially so somebody close by had a key. She seemed especially pleased to be given a key. However, it all made sense when I broached her 'never abandon me' comment. She told me she loved me and had done so for years. Long story short, Asha had, true to her word, remained celibate since getting together with Lisa and me, and she had been planning on giving herself to us as a marriage present.

I was stunned. I knew she wanted me, and I wasn't surprised at her making a play for me, but giving herself to me unconditionally was completely unexpected. Her celibacy was less of a surprise, as I knew she hadn't been with anybody during the recent fashion month because, except for London, she had shared my suite, but even so. I hugged and thanked her, telling her I needed to think about what she had offered me. She reiterated she was giving and not offering herself to me. Even going as far as comparing herself to Wendy: someone who's delighted to be my slut, to be used and abused as I saw fit. She finished by telling me I was to consider her as just another birthday present as she handed me a bag.

I tried to take exception to Asha's description of Wendy as a slut.

Asha put pay to that by coldly stating, "Wendy's, your and my actions the other night, when we took part in a five-way orgy, is pretty much the dictionary definition of a slut: a woman who has many sexual partners. Also, Wendy knew she had an audience while you finger fucked her in the shower. She kept looking me straight in the eyes and smiling. Besides, the girl is completely smitten with you and has proven she will do anything for you." She paused before finishing with, "Do I need to continue, or are you going to open your present?"

"My birthday is tomorrow."

She answered sounding exasperated, "I know, but I want to see your reaction."

So, I gave in and unwrapped what turned out to be a pair of Philipp Plein faux crocodile leather ankle boots with 120mm stiletto heels and metal toe caps with jewelled skull detail. They were identical to a pair she was wearing during the Milan and Paris shows that I praised. She confessed she didn't spend a grand buying them, telling me as one of their regular models, she asked for a pair in my size, and they dutifully provided. I was impressed.

For the evening, I had booked a table at a restaurant I knew my parents would enjoy. I reminded them I did not want to discuss my breakup while waiting for the car. The meal passed largely without event. My dad tried to have a go at me for wasting money on a car service. I answered, "It comes with the job."

Otherwise, the nearest it came to breaking down was when my dad made some comment about my transitioning turning out to be a waste of time. He was trying to have a dig at me, believing I only did it for Lisa. There was no way I could let that misconception go uncorrected, so I closed down his argument with, "Hardly. I now have the body I always felt I should have been born with."

We were back at the house around 10pm. I made my excuses and went straight to bed. I messaged both Asha and Wendy, basically just checking in with them both. The reality was I felt lonely, abandoned, and lost. It was no surprise that I was soon quietly crying myself to sleep again.

Chapter 9 Preparation

I was up early Sunday morning, beating my parents down for breakfast. They wished me a happy birthday and spent around an hour chatting with me before I had to get on with house jobs. Even though I have a housekeeping service that comes in twice a week, the place still needed a general tidy up and cleaning. My parents left a little after nine. I used the time before folks arrived to prepare the lamb roast I was planning on serving for dinner, and at 9:45am, I went and finished making myself presentable.

Jane and Kim arrived with their partners, Mel and Vicky, at 10:30am. They had driven up together. Wendy arrived ten minutes later. We spent the next few hours talking whilst I cooked. Jane, with the occasional comment from Kim, provided me with an update on Lisa and how the salon was doing. Lisa spent Thursday and Friday working. The tension was palpable in the salon. Jane said she could not help but have a go at her Friday evening whilst they were cleaning up. I advised her to keep a lid on it. I outlined my plan, adding that I would ban Lisa from the salon on days I'm working there. Jane also bitched about Lisa letting stock levels run dangerously low. She had to order several items that had become critical whilst Lisa was away.

After lunch, Jane and Kim did Wendy's and my hair and nails. We stuck with the plan of dying, our hair following the oil slick style using a mix of darker blues, greens and purples over black, with our nails painted black, finished with a peacock metallic pigment. It took some encouragement to let Kim extend Wendy's nails using builder gel. Wendy had never had a gel manicure before, plus she was your typical short-nailed lesbian, believing that long nails ripped vaginas. I asked her if I had ever injured her when we made out. She said I hadn't, which was enough to persuade her to try it.

As Kim did my nails, I described the process, starting with a clean shaped nail. First, she applied a coat of nail prep dehydrator, letting it air dry. This ensures the best adherence between gel and nail, which helps maximise the longevity of the manicure. Next, a base coat followed by four thin coats of builder gel to give the manicure the strength to prevent breakages to the underlying nail. In all the years Kim had been doing my nails, I'd had a single break, which was down to my stupidity. Each coat needs curing under UV light before applying the next coat. She used a white-coloured builder gel for the first couple of coats, followed by clear. Next came three coats of black, individually cured, followed by applying the metallic pigment using an eye shadow applicator. Kim added that the colour coats can be skipped if you prefer a natural-looking Mani. Then, to finish, a high gloss topcoat is applied and cured for twice as long before a final wipe, even though the gloss coat was technically no wipe.

Kim explained that when using builder gel to ensure durability, it is only possible to extend nails by a quarter of an inch. Wendy mentioned she would barely notice the difference. Kim and I remained silent as this transitioned the nails from the realm of short to medium length.

I knew Wendy was fascinated by my nails, which were almond-shaped and longish, being 25 to 30mm in length. I teased Wendy, telling her that in a few months, she would be proudly sporting a set of nails like mine. Jane interjected with some comment about Wendy probably becoming a complete diva sporting a set of two to three-inch stiletto talons. Interestingly, Wendy didn't rule it out. We all continued talking and joking while Kim completed Wendy's nails. We finished with Kim doing our makeup and Jane taking some photos.

The girls left around 7pm. Wendy gave me a lovely little present as she wished me a happy birthday. Asha had obviously told Wendy, which meant they were talking directly. I opened the present whilst we relaxed, snuggling on one of the sofas in the living room. About an hour later, Lisa tried calling. I let it go to voicemail. We listened using speakerphone mode. Lisa wanted to meet. I was in a sombre, determined mood whilst I explained to Wendy how I intended to respond. She was proving to be a great support as a sounding board. I messaged Annie, checking on her availability before texting a reply to Lisa stating, "The salon, 3pm Wednesday." We received Lisa's acceptance reply within a couple of minutes.

I spent the rest of the evening feeling smug. We moved to the bedroom to make love, taking care not to aggravate Wendy's new piercings. While we snuggled in our post-coital bliss, Wendy casually mentioned, "I love the paintings hanging in this room, especially the woman in blue. There is just something about her." She nodded towards the copy of Dante Gabriel Rossetti's Proserpine. All the pictures were mostly Pre-Raphaelite prints, with a couple of contemporary paintings in the same style.

"It's a print of Dante Gabriel Rossetti's Proserpine. Jane Morris is the model. Have you heard of William Morris?" I asked.

"He was a designer. We covered him in art and design at school."

"That's right. Jane was his wife. Rossetti introduced them to one another. Both Morris and Rossetti were leading members of the Pre-Raphaelites, as well as being friends and business partners from when they first met in 1856. All three of them shared a summer home in Oxfordshire for many years. Now, Morris had a bit of a habit of travelling during the summer. So, the summer home provided an ideal retreat for Rossetti and Jane to carry on their love affair with impunity." I let it sink in for a moment before continuing, "Two of the other paintings are also Rossetti prints." I pointed at one, "That is called the Beata Beatrix and features his wife, Elizabeth Siddal, a year after her death."

Wendy interrupted, "Yes, it has a quiet sadness to it."

"And the third is called Lady Lilith and shows his mistress, Fanny Cornforth, who modelled for over sixty of his paintings. Have you noticed a theme?"

"Oh, the cheeky little bastard slept with all his models," Wendy remarked, using a mock disapproving tone.

We continued discussing the paintings, Pre-Raphaelites, Arts & Crafts, Art Nouveau and Aesthetic movements until we fell asleep.

Monday, I started the day writing a letter for Annie to give to Lisa for their meeting on Wednesday. In it, I apologised for not meeting her in person, explaining that everything was too raw for me. In the letter, I confirmed I had accepted the job offer with the magazine and would be splitting my time between London and NYC. I went on to say I would still be involved with the salon, at least for the next year, whilst I decide whether to move to the US permanently. Wishing her well, I assured her that she could always reach out to Annie or me for help. I arranged for a courier to deliver the letter to Annie. Then I joined Gillian in her workshop, taking Wendy along, using the excuse that she could model for us.

We left the studio around 7pm. I gave Wendy the choice of either going back to mine and putting up with more of my cooking or eating out. She asked what I would cook. I said probably pasta or a curry using the leftover lamb from yesterday. She voted for the leftover lamb curry, saying it reminded her of when she was a kid, when her mum often used leftover meat to make a curry on Mondays. We talked as I cooked. We started by discussing our lives when we were kids and our relationships with our parents. Hers was great until she came out as gay, which triggered a significant rift. Now, her parental relationship could be best described as cordial rather than warm and loving.

I moved onto questioning her about still wearing the slave collar and the butt plug. She smiled and rather embarrassingly admitted to liking the idea of being owned and being pushed sexually, like the other night when she fucked a couple of complete strangers. She confessed it was out of character. In the past, she'd harshly judged those girls who always followed their partners' orders. With me, it was different: I always asked and never insisted, even when it was clearly what I wanted.

I double-checked that she was OK with me dictating, or at least strongly suggesting, what she wore and what body modifications she had done to her. She questioned what I meant about body modifications, which I clarified as piercings, tattoos, waist training and possibly bigger boobs.

Wendy consented with the only caveat being she would never consent to tattoos on her face. She confessed to wanting bigger breasts. Ideally, something like a D or a double D cup, but nothing bigger. I teased her, saying I thought a set of G cup boobs would look stunning on her frame, to which I received a get real look.

I teased her about adding more piercings to her privates while she is tightly corseted. She almost came on the spot.

We remained seated at the refectory table, chatting, after finishing our meal for another hour before heading to bed. We made love before falling asleep, holding one another.

On Tuesday morning, I had a Lambert Group board meeting, so I ordered a couple of cars: mine, and another to take Wendy back to her place. I went to Gillian's after the board meeting, spending several hours working with her until Asha turned up to take me out for dinner. We ended up at Wendy's bar around midnight, with us all ending up in bed together after she finished working.

Wednesday, Wendy and I spent the day at Gillian's. During the evening, I had dinner with Annie so she could brief me on how the meeting with Lisa went. It went pretty much exactly as planned. It helped that Lisa seemed devastated that I wasn't there in person. Even cried when she read the letter. Annie challenged Lisa over her crying, as she was the one who chose to walk away. Lisa apologised, claiming she never meant to hurt me.

Annie reiterated the point I made about contacting us for any help and emphasised that Lisa could call her about anything, stressing that it included free legal advice and assistance. She used that as her lead to drawing Lisa's attention to Rob's history and spelling out the appropriate precautions, she needs to take to protect herself. As they were wrapping up, Lisa asked Annie to tell me she still loved me.

Annie was left with a distinct feeling that Lisa had been gaslighted into marrying Rob. Even if we could get Lisa on board with a case against Rob, the last thing the marriage ceremony video showed was any signs of duress. It would be almost impossible to argue for an annulment because that would require Rob's support. Which he would be very unlikely to provide as that would leave him open to being charged with coercive control under Section 76 of the Serious Crime Act and facing several years of prison time. As such, Annie recommended that we keep to our original plan of waiting for the marriage to fail.

I had mixed feelings about the outcome. The meeting had gone pretty much to plan, but Annie's gut feeling about Lisa having been coerced into marriage made me more convinced than ever that I wanted her back or, at the very least, I needed to destroy her marriage to Rob. One upside was that Annie was now convinced by my cause.

I went home via Wendy's bar, using the walk to clear my head. I had a drink whilst waiting for the bar to close so we could go home together. We started marking out the moment we were in the car. Once we were in the bedroom, I spanked her. I am not sure why; whether I was blowing off steam or needed to dominate, I do not know.

At first, it was a single playful smack, but given her favourable reaction, I soon had her over my knee as I spanked both cheeks a dozen times each. She enjoyed being smacked firmly, but not too hard. Based on her reaction and encouragement for more, I vowed to get some whips and canes. She truly loved it when I gave her bum the occasional smack as we made love. This girl had the most wonderful dirty streak running directly to her core that I was desperate to explore.

We woke up a little after ten. Over coffee, I decided it was time to explore how she felt about us. She confessed to being submissive the other day when we discussed modifying her body. Last night's reaction to being spanked confirmed it. But I had to know for sure if she wanted me. "You knew it went well yesterday with Lisa. I know you are open to threesomes and more, but could you live in a polyamorous relationship?"

"I think it would be fun to live with you and Asha. We've been talking, and I know she wants to move in with you," she answered, adding before I could reply. "As for including Lisa, I don't know. I've never met her, but the bitch is currently a figure of hatred for what she did to you."

"But you are open to the idea?"

"Yes, definitely," she answered.

I was intrigued and somewhat nervous that they were talking directly, so I had to ask, "What have you and Asha been talking about?"

"Asha made a point of saying you were unlikely to get over the loss of Lisa anytime soon. She wanted to make sure I was OK with, to use her words, essentially being your whore, to be used as a fuck toy. She also said she had given herself to you to be used as you see fit. Which seemed to suggest to me she considers herself to be your whore also, mistress."

"Well, as for Lisa, you know I'm playing the long game, and if I do manage to win her back, it will be a very different relationship than before. She will join a very public polyamorous group of women led by me. As for being my whore, you do get turned on by being pushed sexually, so I'm guessing you are OK with that?"

"Yes, mistress, I've been calling myself your slut, so what's the difference?"

"Quite a bit actually," was the thought that ran through my mind, but I kept that to myself and just hugged her before saying, "Regarding Asha giving herself to me, it wouldn't surprise me to find her having moved in when I returned from the States. She has heard me say often enough that it's often better to ask for forgiveness after the event rather than ask for permission first. On the off chance that you get involved, make sure you both take the guest room opposite my room. Whilst not as big as mine, it has a nice sized ensuite bathroom and walk-in closet."

"Thank you, mistress," she said, sounding way too upbeat.

"I've not given anybody permission or encouragement. But before anything happens, I'm simply offering some guidance."

I checked she was up to joining me at the club later. Of course, she was, so I decided now would be an excellent time to start her waist training. She knew that meant corsets. I checked she was OK with that. She said the thought of wearing corsets like mine excited her, regardless of all the horror stories she heard about the damage they can do. I explained, if you follow some basic rules such as always ensuring your corsets fit correctly, along with listening to your body and don't push the reduction too far too fast, they are perfectly safe.

We took a trip to my favourite corsetiere. On arrival, they took Wendy's measurements and discussed our requirements. I explained Wendy was just starting waist training, with an end goal of getting down to eighteen inches. Wendy was in a state of shock at the thought of having her waist squashed a whole ten inches. The senior assistant recommended we started with corsets designed to provide a twenty-two inch waist. She reminded both of us, for waist training to be effective, requires wearing a corset 24x7 for months in not years. Telling us it's critical to take our time with the reduction to let your body slowly adjust. Plus, the corset's themselves need breaking in gradually.

We placed an order for six custom made Edwardian S-bend hourglass corsets to highlight her near perfect bubble butt and reduced waist. They included two underbust and four overbust corsets in various colours, patterns and fabrics, all were twenty-two inches to give a six reduction to her waist.

For immediate use, we purchased two off-the-shelf corsets, a black leather underbust and a black satin overbust, both designed to give a twenty-four-inch waist. Whilst not providing as good a fit as the custom ones we had ordered, they would enable Wendy to get used to wearing corsets. She tried both on and had no problems getting either fully laced up with the help of the junior assistant. Even acting disappointed when fully tightened. I suggested she try the satin one first and told her to leave the leather underbust one on and just slip the black leather biker jacket on over the top.

The senior assistant reminded Wendy not to fully lace the custom corsets unless she was determined to do permanent damage to her internal organs. She also warned the custom corsets would pull her backbone forwards to provide emphasis to her derriere.

Next up was a trip to an excellent leather clothing specialist to buy her some skirts and her own biker jacket. She left wearing a tight fitting black mini skirt and cropped biker jacket, also in black. Along with a large bag containing a midi length mermaid skirt, a below the knee pencil skirt and a skater dress. We swung back via Selfridges to buy a pair of patent black 'So Kate' Louboutins to give her outfit the perfect finish.

When we arrived back at the house, I suggested she put her purchases in the guest room closet, emphasising the word 'guest' by making the inverted quotes symbol with my hands.

We had a bite to eat before getting ready for the evening, heading out in time for Wendy to open the bar. I chose not to stay, instead I returned home so I could get on with some work before heading to the club.

The usual gang was there. I was again hosting, so I spent most of my time meeting and greeting patrons. Asha wasn't working the door this week, so she stuck by my side during the evening. Wendy arrived just before 1:30am. I encouraged her to take her jacket off and expose her breasts, like Asha and me. She took a deep breath as she looked around, clocking that about ten percent of the women had their nipples exposed before finally deciding to discard her jacket. Gillian teased Asha and me about turning Wendy into a right little mini-me.

The three of us ended up back at the house a little after 4am. We made love, and as Wendy closed in on her release, she started begging to be spanked. Being a caring mistress, I had no problem fulfilling her wishes. We continued until we were all satisfied. We laid talking for a while before succumbing to our tiredness. I woke up around eleven on Friday morning and took a quick shower accompanied by Wendy, before we both headed off to Gillian's studio, leaving Asha in bed.

Wendy had taken to wearing corsets like a duck to water. Putting it back on, post shower, like she'd been wearing them for years. I had a car pick Wendy up at 4pm to get her to the bar in time for opening. Gillian and I continued until just before 8pm when I went home. I grabbed a bite to eat and worked on ideas for the magazine whilst waiting for Wendy to arrive.

The two of us spent a quiet Saturday, going out in the middle of the day, taking a walk around Portobello Market, and stopping off for a late lunch. After my car service took Wendy to the bar, I spent some time working out in the gym that occupied half the basement. This was the first time I had exercised for what felt like a month, and I was feeling in desperate need of a workout. I caught up on some shows while I rode and ran. I finished with a long soak in the bath before getting dressed to go out for drinks with Asha, who turned up at 8:30pm. We ended up as planned at Wendy's at midnight. None of us fancied going on to the club, so we went home and made out together.

Chapter 10 Entrapment

Sunday was supposed to be a lazy day that was spent getting another couple of hour's exercise in, packing for my fortnight away in NYC and cooking a roast chicken dinner. Not that I'm complaining, what with the excellent company that I had assisting me. Wendy expressed joy at avoiding work today, it being Halloween. She said most years the clientele often became out of hand. We watched a horror movie before heading to bed at a reasonable hour because of my early start on Monday morning, but that didn't stop the three of us from making out again.

I said my goodbyes and left at six Monday morning. Asha was no problem; we had known each other for years, but Wendy was almost in tears. I hadn't realised quite how deeply she felt, but then we had barely had a night apart since we met. I told Asha to look after her for me as I left.

My usual driver was waiting for me at JFK. He took me to the hotel, where I dropped off my bags and spruced myself up before heading to the office. I called Asha and Wendy from the car just to say 'Hi' and to let them know I was thinking of them. Four hours of meetings were scheduled, leaving me only an hour to reach a dinner meeting. I finally arrived back at the hotel at eleven local time. Thank God I managed to get some sleep on the plane.

I managed five hours of sleep, waking at 5am. I video called Wendy, who was with Asha at what looked to be Asha's place. They were doing well. I hit the hotel gym for an hour before getting ready for the day. My work day started with a bunch of meetings in the office at 8am, before a visit to a location shoot. Then back to the office for more meetings. I was still in the office at 8pm when Wendy called, having finished her day.

The rest of the trip followed a similar pattern. In the evenings, I had dinner meetings, which I refused to take before 9pm so I could speak to Wendy when she finished her day. Most days, she had Asha with her. I enjoyed speaking to them both and certainly missed their company, especially when I was alone at night. That is when I missed Lisa most, I regularly found myself just bursting into tears when my thoughts became too deep. To alleviate the pain, I spent my time scheming. If things transpired as I expected at home, I was going to have some fun and never be alone again.

On Friday, I received a bunch of selfies from Wendy, wearing one of her new corsets. She looked so very refined and elegant. It made me eager to return home. Over the weekend, I still worked at least four hours each day, but at least I was now getting over eight hours of sleep. I ventured out to do some shopping on Saturday afternoon. It must have been a quiet day, as I soon had a bunch of paparazzi following me as I travelled between stores on Fifth Avenue. I was soon bored with all the sycophantic attention I was receiving from store staff every time I was recognised, which was happening in most stores. So, I had my car pick me up, leaving the photographers with nothing more exciting than a bunch of 'I was here' images that at best could be used for filler articles.

I flew back Thursday evening, arriving back in Blighty early Friday morning. Somehow, I managed to sleep through most of the flight. The car service had me home just before 8am. I went into the kitchen to make myself a coffee. It was clean, but something was out of place. That something soon made itself clear when Asha and Wendy appeared with a chirpy "Morning, mistress" greeting from Wendy, followed by hugs and kisses from them both.

I expressed what a pleasant shock it was to find them both there. That was when Asha confessed, they had both moved in.

This was exactly what I expected to find and was going to milk it for all it was worth. So I demanded, "Who gave you permission to move into my home?"

Asha answered, "We have both given ourselves to you, mistress. We figured you would want your processions with you in your home."

"So, you are both OK giving me everything you own, being marked as mine and wearing a slave collar full-time?"

"As long as it also includes wearing corsets and heels full time, then yes, mistress," asserted Wendy. Ensuring I couldn't possibly miss the way they were both dressed only in a corset and five-inch heels. Wendy looked just as stunning as I had expected, wearing one of her new custom-made corsets. I was intrigued to see how tightly she'd laced her corset.

"I will have full control over what you do and what you wear. Eventually, that will include carrying and raising my babies. In the meantime, that will include the work you do. Asha, that won't be that much of a change for you, as you already work in the same environment as me. Wendy, I have some serious plans for you, honey, that don't involve bar management. Are you still in?"

Asha replied, "I've walked a tier one runway show topless for you. I would do it naked in an instance if you asked."

Wendy said, "It will be so good not having to work unsocial hours again. Plus, you effectively choose the clothes and shoes I wear already."

"Be careful what you wish for, my lovely little pet. I need an executive PA who can support all my roles. It will mean extremely long hours and involve frequent travel. You will be on duty by my side 24x7, including taking your holidays with me, but the pay is excellent at £100K per annum. However, you need to prove that you can do the job, so there is a test you need to pass. Still interested?"

"What type of test is it?" Wendy asked, thankfully showing some caution. The last thing I needed was a I "yes" woman.

I replied, "It involves completing a task."

"What does the task involve?"

"It's splitting the large unused room in the basement into a wet room with a loo and a dungeon for us to play in. I know you are submissive, so here is your chance to design and manage the building of the playroom you've always wanted to be dominated in, like the good little sub I know you are. It will need a large comfortable bed with plenty of harness points to tie you to, as well as other pieces of kit to strap you to and over. I believe the room should have a gothic revival look and feel to it. Think Pugin, so ox blood red with gold with plenty of leather and oak panelling. I would suggest you take a trip to visit St Giles Catholic Church in Cheadle and the Great Hall in the Palace of Westminster. You have four weeks to complete it or, because it will involve organising several external parties, have a believable timeline for its completion." I paused to let the panic and shock take hold.

"I want you to succeed, so I will spend today answering any questions you may have. You will shortly receive an email with the initial brief, along with the details of the builders and decorators who worked on the house when I bought it. I will ensure you have access to the necessary funds. I will expect a brief verbal daily update covering yesterday's achievements, today's expected tasks, plus any issues and/or other blockers. Each Friday, I want a weekly report showing the plan detailing any slippages, risks, blockages or other issues. I expect to review the design before work starts."

"And one final thing: if you fail, you are both out, and I really don't want to lose my pets. Do you accept the challenge?"

What followed was a flurry of questions. I put my hands up and said, "I will answer all your questions, but first, I need to know whether you accept the challenge."

Wendy took a deep breath and replied, "Yes, I accept, and I don't care about the money, as everything I have will be yours, mistress."

I turned to Asha and asked, "And you?"

Asha retorted, "Of course I do."

"I have one final thing that may change your mind. It's my big secret that you need to know and be comfortable accepting."

On hearing this, Asha suddenly became very animated and started begging me not to tell Wendy. I tried calming her saying it would come out one day, and I need to know that Wendy has my back just like you do. I finished by telling her to have some faith.

Gently, I took hold of Wendy's hands within mine. Directly facing her, I said, "I was born with bits that didn't match how I'm wired." I left it like that, hoping she would get it.

She steered at me with a blank expression for several seconds, so I added, "I'm transgender. Oh God, I so loathe that label. It makes it seem like I was once a man, which is something I've never been."

"You were born with a dick. I don't think so," she scoffed. "You are the most perfectly gorgeous woman I know, and that includes your minky. I don't believe you." Her voice showed signs of panic. "You are winding me up. This is just another one of your games; it's just an elaborate hoax."

"I'm afraid not. Asha and I both told you within the first 24 hours of our meeting that I had an issue with hormones, and I needed lubricant every time we had sex. I was born with the wrong bits. I knew it at an early age. Since fourteen, I've presented as a girl, including at school. I've always passed as a girl with my natural hourglass figure. I have no typical male facial traits, and I've always sounded feminine."

Wendy reiterated, "I'm sorry, but I just don't believe you were once a man."

"That's the point. I wasn't. I just had this wrong part that had to be dealt with."

Asha injected, "When I first met her nearly six years ago, she was trying to be all androgynous, but she was undeniably a gorgeous woman with the cutest looking little A-cup titties. She had this long mane of black hair pulled back in a high ponytail, perfectly sculptured eyebrows, the most exquisitely manicured black stiletto talons I've ever seen, and her eyes highlighted with black eyeliner and kohl. Where we used to work, when she decided to fully transition, HR refused to put out a companywide email because they felt it would confuse people, seeing as most people believed she was female already."

"I'm fascinated to know what your name was if people believed you were female." Wendy came back with.

"She went from Andy with a Y to Andi with an I," Asha dismissively answered.

Just as quickly, I added, "It was Andrew to Andria, but everybody knew me as Andy. Do you still want me?"

"Of course, I do." She pulled me for a hug before cheekily adding, "I still don't know if I really believe it though. I think you will need to show me your birth certificate to prove it."

"I can show you my Gender Recognition Certificate along with my updated birth certificate listing me as female with my chosen name. In all seriousness, if you are ever asked, I'm female and have the birth certificate to prove it."

"Is that legal, changing your birth certificate?"

"It is with a Gender Recognition Certificate which officially recognises me, for all intents and purposes, as having always been female." Then, feeling the need for us to get back on topic, I asked, "Wendy, are you working this evening?"

"No, I booked the night off because it's your first night back," Wendy answered.

"Excellent, that means we can all make a road trip to Cheadle as soon as you are both dressed. Asha, you are driving my car as I do not recall seeing your car out the front."

Wendy said she needed to view the room before we went. She started asking a bunch of relevant questions. Some were for her to decide, others, such as is there a drain we can access, needed professional advice. I suggested we discuss further once we were on the road.

As we made our way back upstairs to get ourselves ready for the trip, I complimented Wendy on how gorgeous she was looking in her corset. Of course, by now I had plenty of time to inspect her from all angles. The impact on her figure was spectacular and she was already lacing down to the last inch. She bemoaned the S-bend corsets had a much more significant impact on her body than she expected. They pulled her back forwards so much; she had to settle with just a three-inch reduction when she first tried them on at the corsetiers. Since then, she has been tightening the laces a little more each day, and she reckoned that in another week she would be fully laced. Like me, she loved how it exaggerated her assets by pulling in her waist whilst pushing out her breasts and bottom.

Twenty minutes later, we were on our way, all suitably dressed for the day. Wendy and I sat in the back discussing various aspects. We arrived in Cheadle around 1pm and had a bite to eat in the town before spending a few hours wandering around the church, taking pictures and generally admiring its beauty. They were both blown away by the intensity of the interior. I provided a quick history lesson about why this is the quintessential example of Gothic Revival architecture.

It was just getting dark as we left Cheadle. On the drive back, Wendy asked a bunch more questions, all the time increasing my confidence that she would pull it off, although the chances of her having it completed within four weeks were extremely unlikely, but then assessing how she relayed unfortunate news was part of the challenge.

We had fantastic sex that night. I'm guessing it was down to my nearly two weeks of abstinence. Either way, it was good to be back home with my girls. As we were lying together enjoying our post coital bliss, Wendy asked where the ownership tattoo would go and what it would say. I suggested she went and retrieved a Sharpie from the study.

When she returned, I asked her to grab a kohl pencil from the vanity and then to lie on her back. I then lightly drew a series of five short little horizontal lines spaced about 1cm apart, with the kohl starting at the top of her clitoral hood. Between the top two lines, I wrote 'Property', between lines two and three 'of', then on the next 'Andria Jane' with 'Wilson' on the last all nicely centred. Then I drew a box around the text with inverted curved corners. Finally, as an afterthought, I added hearts on either side of 'Property' and 'Wilson', saying they would be in red. Once finished, I told her to wait five minutes for the permanent ink from the Sharpie to fully dry before washing off the kohl to get a proper idea of how it would look.

While she waited, I advised her she would join me at the salon, tomorrow to begin her permanent body hair removal. As well as getting her nails re-done and having her roots tidied up. Her only reaction was a simple "Cool." She then wandered into the bathroom, where I could hear a tap ran for a moment, and a couple of minutes later a smiling Wendy re-emerged. She kissed me and said, "I'm looking forward to having it done for real, mistress."

Asha snapped, "It's not going to happen. We've been given an impossible task."

Asha has normally an optimistic individual but now and then, she would occasionally feel overwhelmed by a something and would lash out. So, I attempted to ease the situation. "As I said this morning, it's not about completing the task. It's how it's managed and specifically how I'm kept up to date with progress without having to be involved constantly. Think of it as the first four weekly sprints of a dev project. Which is why you are also on the hook. I need you to coach her with what I expect. Which should be fun in weeks three and four because I believe you are joining me on my next NYC trip. Consider it karma for freeloading your flight and accommodation." I blew her a cheeky kiss.

"You think you are such a clever bitch, don't you? Always N steps ahead of everyone. I bet you had this all planned out for weeks. You cannot expect people to work crazy hours for a month while holding down a job."

"Why not? We did for three years. I averaged eighty hours a week, and I know you averaged sixty, with some months being closer to eighty. Wendy needs to show she can commit to working long, hard hours, so I know she can provide the support I need when I'm working silly hours like during the Fashion Weeks."

Out of frustration, Asha turned away from me with a huff, pulling her legs and arms into a ball.

I needed to ease Asha's frustration, so I reassured her, "Asha, babe, I'm really glad you're here, but you promised you wouldn't abandon me. This is your chance to prove it, and I swear I'll never test either of you again."

There was no reaction from Asha, so I mouthed to Wendy, "Comfort her."

Wendy slid in between us and spooned against Asha's back, holding her as she whispered into her ear, "We are so going to do this."

Thankfully, Asha appeared to relax as Wendy hugged her.

Saturday was an early start for Wendy and me as we travelled down to the salon. We both had our hair roots tidied up and a Mani-Pedi before I had to meet a wedding client who was insistent on dealing with me directly, followed by a makeover client. After Wendy's electrolysis session, I had the car take her to work so she wouldn't be late.

Once we had locked up, I went for a drink with Jane and Kim. They filled me in on the salon and Lisa: In short; the tension had settled down. Lisa found out about our fallback plan when she threatened to sack people for ignoring her. Jane said she had to calm the situation down, explaining it as an option of last resort whilst saying we all wanted her to succeed. Once Lisa had calmed down, she described herself as being nothing more than just a fangless supervisor of the business she had started. As for bookings, Jane said they were still down, but not as much. She speculated they would remain down until I could do two days a month. At least I could provide some positive news there, as I told them I planned to be working with them every fortnight.

I took the train back to London and a taxi from Victoria Station back home. Asha greeted me at the door, demanding to know if I'd eaten. I said no, and I was feeling too tired to go out. Plus, it being Saturday night, meant everywhere would be full of tourists. So, we ordered some Thai food to be delivered. We waited up for Wendy, having arranged for a car to collect her. We were all knacked, so our lovemaking was very halfhearted, and we ended up hugging each other as we fell asleep.

Sunday was a chill out day. The three of us made love for an hour upon waking. I felt the need to spend some time working out in the gym. Asha joined me, whilst Wendy spent several hours in the study searching online for info and equipment for the project. On my way upstairs, after finishing exercising, I popped in and advised her to be ready to go out for dinner at 6:30pm. I also checked she had a passport as I informed her, she would need to book the 10th to the 19th of December as a holiday. I took a long soak in the bath, pampering myself, doing my makeup and getting dressed, ready to go out, before spending the remaining time reading and listening to music.

Monday after having my daily update from Wendy, I arranged for a corporate credit card to be issued in her name with express delivery so that it should be with us tomorrow. Gillian and I spent the rest of the day working together. I arrived back at the house around 8pm. Asha and Wendy were sitting, watching some rom-com and drinking wine. Nobody was hungry, so I joined them. As the evening progressed, we became more amorous, eventually fucking one another on the large sofa before moving it to the bedroom.

On Tuesday, Wendy's credit card arrived. She provided her daily update, informing me she had arranged for a couple of meetings with the general builder and the bathroom people. Again, I spent the day working with Gillian until, leaving for a dinner meeting and eventually ending up with Asha at Wendy's bar.

The rest of the week continued in a similar vein. Wendy was making good progress with managing the alterations. She had a rather interesting design for how it would look, including various samples for the decoration along with a plan for its completion, which included the general builders making a start next Monday with building walls, moving doors and providing access to the drains, all while ensuring that the gym remains usable. I could tell Asha had been coaching her on the level of info to provide. It appeared this would turn out better than expected.

Likewise, all was good with my business interests, although when I had lunch on Thursday with Frank Hibbert, the Lambert Group CEO, he raised concerns about Eric in his role as Chair effectively sabotaging business deals through incompetence. I stated we would need to let it ride for now, although I would subtly let Margaret know the next time we spoke. He was surprised I was still talking with Margaret, given how Lisa had treated me. I explained we talked weekly, and she was far from happy with Lisa's behaviour, evicting her from the cottage and gifting it to me.

Thursday evening, was spent at the club as usual. We picked up more girls, brought them back to the house, fucked them, sending them on their way midday Friday. Asha then announced it had been four weeks since Wendy had been pierced, and given there had been no complications, she would like to pierce her tongue and add a few more piercings to her ears.

Wendy kissed Asha and said, "Thanks, babe."

I swear they were colluding behind my back. "OK, but let's limit it to three, her tongue and one in each tragus. Assuming that's acceptable to Wendy."

"Definitely, mistress," as she gave me a peck.

Asha did the honours there and then before I headed off to Gillian's.

My talk with Frank triggered me to arrange a visit to see Margaret and the cottage on Saturday. I drove down, parked outside the cottage, and walked over to the house. After catching up, I broached the subject of Eric by asking her how she thought he was doing. She stated it was still too early to say. I said I had received mixed reports whilst agreeing it was too early to draw any conclusions. All suitably vague enough to sow some doubt without actively trashing him. I warned her I was planning on having the cottage completely renovated so I would feel comfortable using it.

Before its refurbishment, I had to visit to the cottage one last time. Even empty, I knew I would still feel Lisa's presence running through the place. I wandered from room to room, sobbing. Eventually, I pulled myself together and drove away. The trouble is I felt so incredibly frustrated with Lisa because I still didn't know why she had abandoned me. So, I headed towards the salon with every intention of causing a scene. Thankfully, the traffic was heavy, and the journey was much slower than normal, which gave me the additional time to come to my senses and to turn back.

My blood was still simmering as I pulled into the townhouse's parking. I went straight inside and started gathering pictures featuring Lisa, along with anything else that reminded me of her. Stashing everything in one of the small bedrooms in the loft that we used for storage, I left a solitary framed picture of her on my desk in the study.

One didn't need to be a shrink to realise that something was seriously amiss, and Asha knew me well enough to know the moment I walked in the door. She just said, "I'm here when you want to talk." I felt grateful she didn't push.

I needed to eat and had no desire to cook or order in. A sudden craving for a burger struck me, which so wasn't me. As I decluttered the living room, I warned Asha we were going out to eat. During the drive over to some fancy burger restaurant in Kensington, Asha broached what was behind my mood. I confessed all, telling her about visiting the cottage and almost making a scene at the salon, all because I felt so angry at Lisa, myself and everything. She stated I ought to have known better than to attempt such a trip on my own. My mind always wandered towards all things Lisa when I was alone. I was still a long way from being over her.

We had our burgers accompanied by a couple of bottles of wine and then went to Wendy's bar to continue drinking, with the sole intention of going home and having drunken sex once Wendy had locked up.

I spent Sunday morning recovering, including a long session in the gym to work off last night's excess. I offered to cook a late lunch cum early dinner.

During the following week, progress went very well with the conversion work. Praising Wendy for the work she had done so far with converting the unused basement room. I asked to her to visit the cottage when I'm in the US next week. I tasked her with getting a feel for the cottage and to pull together ideas for a complete refurbishment. The only requirement was that it needed to be totally unrecognisable. I even told her she was free to gut the place completely and rearrange the internal walls.

I had the final fitting for the black version of my wedding dress on Thursday at Gillian's studio. The original dress was an off-the-shoulder, lace and tulle corset bodice mermaid gown in ivory white and was now in storage, along with Lisa's and the bridesmaids' dresses. The black version was a direct copy and could pass as a classic evening gown just as easily as a wedding dress. Wendy's bridesmaid dress looked equally gorgeous and had her in tears over its perfect fit when she tried it on.

Gillian had seen fit to have some custom-made pointed toe court shoes with a slender 13cm stiletto heel with a hidden 1cm platform made using the same material. It finished the look off almost to perfection, but of course, I had to point out the look was just missing a matching clutch bag. Gillian ranted about me being such a perfectionist before proposing reusing an existing design of hers that I adored.

Thursday evening, we were at the club again. We only came home with a single girl whom we stripped naked and cuffed spread-eagled on the bed. She was an extremely attractive woman in her mid-twenties, but she had such a hairy beaver there was no way I was going near it. Asha was well aware of my absolute hatred of body hair and tasked Wendy with shaving it clean whilst I sat on the girl's face while she ate me out. What followed next was an unbridled fucking of the girl for the next several hours. Come midday Friday, she refused to leave, but we had to get to work.

She assured us that last night was the most intense sex of her life and begged us to keep her. I asked her to describe her life. After several minutes of conversation, I asked her, "Why would you give up your reasonably comfortable life to be a no-name skivvy for a bunch of lesbian freaks who are going to abuse you constantly?"

Before she could answer, I continued, "And by abuse, I don't just mean sex. I will have you tattooed with an ownership mark and anything else I fancy. Asha here will go to town piercing you. You see all my piercings; now imagine having two to three times as many in your body. Your nose with a row of three studs in each nostril along three septum rings. She may decide to pierce your dimples. Your nipples will have both horizontal and vertical piercings. She will pierce your belly button on all four sides. As for your foo foo, well, I can't imagine Asha not piercing your clitoris regardless of its suitability."

The girl had a mini orgasm at that point, which effectively told me I had taken the wrong tact. Quickly pivoting, "If you truly want that, you will need to prove it. You must always keep your body clean shaven. You must attend the club nights and make yourself available to us if we are there. Now, Asha, can you pierce her nose, please? A stud in each nostril plus a ring through her septum ought to suffice for now, honey."

Asha did the honours before sending her on her way via an Uber. Hoping she would come to her senses over the coming weeks and months.

Before Asha put her piercing gear away, she took the opportunity to replace the long barbell in Wendy's tongue piercing. The swelling lasted a few days, and strictly speaking it should have been swapped for a shorter one a few days ago. Wendy's love for her tongue piercing was obvious, given how she played her tongue across her mouth. It reminded me of the sensation from when mine was new.

Saturday, Wendy and I were back at the salon having our regular nail and hair appointments plus Wendy's electrolysis session. I had a couple of style appointments, so Wendy left me behind, taking the car back after lunch to avoid arriving late for work. I took the train back up to town when I had finished. Asha persuaded me to go out with her once I was home. We visited a couple of bars before arriving at the SheBar just after midnight. Wendy greeted us with kisses and drinks. We ended up pressing the flesh and talking to other patrons whilst we waited for closing time so the three of us could go home together.

This Sunday was pretty much a repeat of the previous Sunday, allowing for the earlier night because Asha and I were flying to NYC early Monday morning. While away, my days were busy with work, including business dinners most evenings, as I continued to build relationships with the local players. Asha joined me at many of the dinners. It seemed to help to have another top-tier model in attendance. The nights were far more bearable with Asha to hold and make out with. I could now go several hours without thinking about Lisa. It still hurt like hell, but generally it was now just a dull ache I could ignore by focusing on something or someone else.

Every morning, we had a call with Wendy, where she provided her daily update. The second Tuesday's call was later than normal, because Wendy had visited the cottage to take a look, measure and get a feel for the space. Wendy popped into the salon. She desired to see Lisa in the flesh; She didn't intend to talk to her, but Jane took it upon herself to introduce them. They spent a few minutes talking. Lisa asked after me. Wendy told her I was currently in New York working. Lisa seemed crestfallen when Wendy told her she had been to the cottage to get a feel for the place, so she could make suggestions for its remodelling. Wendy said it felt like a power play on Jane's part to remind Lisa of her place.

Regarding the cottage, she had plenty of ideas she was eager to present in person once she had allowed them to mature and developed.

This trip was deliberately a day shorter than normal, due to the fact I was supposed to be getting married this weekend. Now it was the marriage wake party instead. We travelled overnight Wednesday evening, arriving in London early Thursday morning. Wendy was waiting for us. She couldn't wait to show us the progress on the room conversion. Amazingly it appeared to be complete, except for various decorative finishes and furniture, which were currently on order and due to be delivered over the next month. I was truly stunned at how brilliantly Wendy had captured the gothic revival look and feel. She had most definitely passed with honours, and I took great delight in telling them both we have a meeting with Annie tomorrow morning to sign contracts, where they would effectively give me control of their lives. They were seriously upbeat about it, with Asha asking when they would get their ownership tattoos. Once we returned from our week away in Paris was my reply.

I had presents for them both; I had ordered the most exquisite custom slave collars. The email containing the tracking information showed me that the parcel containing collars had arrived on Tuesday. A quick check with Wendy, and she fetched the parcel from the study. I opened it as soon as she returned. Asha immediately recognised it as being just like the one I had brought for Lisa. I also gave them matching slave bracelets and anklets. Both girls loved their presents. I locked them in place to check the fit, having first unlocked and removed Wendy's old simple O-ring adorned eternity collar. Once satisfied with the fit, I unlocked and removed the bracelets and anklets and put them to one side, promising the girls I would use them to restrain them as soon as the relevant furniture was delivered and installed.

Wendy asked whether she could submit her notice now. I recommended she waited until she had reviewed the contract. She turned around and emphatically informed me she had committed herself to me without reservation, so she would be signing regardless of its contents.

As she was that determined to quit, I suggested she wear her leather underbust corset with her leather miniskirt and biker jacket this evening and discard her jacket while she was working in an attempt to get sacked. Unfortunately, it backfired; the clientele largely loved it, meaning it was perceived as a success and something that should be encouraged. She faced some pushback over her resignation, but when she outlined her new job, they realised they had lost her. They were just relieved that she was staying on for the busy holiday season, with her last day being New Year's Day, traditionally a quiet day after the previous night's festivities.

Asha and I went and enjoyed ourselves at the club. As usual, there was no shortage of women clambering for our attention. We focused on talking to girls we'd played with before and were hoping for another visit. By the time Wendy arrived, we had settled on a couple. Wendy immediately demanded to know where her bitch was. I gave her the girl I had been talking to. We left around 2:30am, unfortunately, without the girls because of the busy Friday we had planned.

10am Friday, we were all sat in Annie's office with Annie going through the contracts she had drawn up for us. We often talked about Asha and Wendy being my slaves, but the reality was very much a consensual relationship. Thankfully, it was impossible for a slavery contract to be codified and survive a legal challenge in English law. The contracts were essentially legally binding extended BDSM contracts that went beyond defining the terms and boundaries of consent to cover everyday life. The basic tenet being that I would provide luxury clothing, full board and lodging, and they would be my full-time submissive companions.

Annie recommended the girls get their own independent legal advice before signing. However, they were both determined to sign, regardless. Ultimately, this was us codifying the trust and commitment we had in one another.

I had engineered their eagerness via the test. Something for them to focus on and forge a deep relationship whilst increasing and ensuring their desire to please and be with me. OK, I was pushing against an open door; we all wanted this. Yet, a part of me desperately needed this in writing thanks to being abandoned by Lisa.

I loved them, but not in the same way I had Lisa. For Lisa, I would have done anything. I would have sacrificed everything for her. However, with Asha and Wendy, I just wanted to own them as pets who provide unconditional love and companionship.

Chapter 11 Respite

Afterwards, we headed down to the salon to have our hair and nails done, ready for our girls' night tomorrow and our holiday. We had to rush home to meet Sue and her wife Amber along with my cousins Amanda and Phoebe, who were making a complete weekend of it. We had a bit of a practice run Friday evening for Saturday's main event, going out to dinner and onto a club, getting home around 2am.

Saturday, our guests wanted to spend some time shopping, so Wendy and I gave them a fashionista's tour of the best shopping London has to offer. We returned home before 4pm to give everybody time to get ready for our 6pm start time. It was great to see everyone dressed in Gillian's marvellously gothic black wedding wear. Everybody loved the dresses, especially the fit.

Asha said Gillian arrived around midday with a vanload of dresses, each with a label pinned on identifying the intended wearer. The majority were in black silk brocade with a metallic silver paisley pattern, with the others in the same material as my dress. She had way more shoes than required. The shoes were in the same fabrics as the dresses and followed the same design as mine, that of a classic court pump with pointed toes and 13cm stiletto heels with 1cm hidden platform. Apparently, she had at least three pairs, plus some spares for everyone. She told me not to worry about the excess, claiming that after we'd been photographed wearing them, we could charge a grand a pair via the Gilly Bell website. Oh boy, I had taught her well.

It was the first time I had seen the clutch bags I persuaded her we needed. I loved them, and I was so right about them being the perfect finishing touch.

Everyone had followed the makeup instructions of 'the darker the better' with numbers evenly split between black, dark burgundies and dark blue painted lips and nails with one solitary person, Amanda, rocking dark green. Phoebe had previously arranged for me to do her makeup because she always wore nudes and needed help to pull off dark makeup. She arrived with her nails professionally painted in a classic rich dark cherry red colour, which I used as the theme for her makeup.

My dress started out stunning, but when teamed with an ornate vintage-style jet necklace and earrings, it was lifted to another level. Wendy and Asha wore dresses in the same material as me and had similarly accessorised with jet jewellery. Together, we all just dripped pure, untouchable sex appeal. Of course, Jane's hair updos helped and with the house full of girls getting ready to go out, it felt like being backstage at a runway show.

Asha had organised, through a cousin of hers, a party bus for the evening's transport, and at 6pm precisely, we were on our way to our first stop at a bar. A couple of drinks later, we were off to our dinner and at 11pm we arrived at the club. I had selected a gay-friendly club, who I checked would be OK with us turning up en mass when pre-booking our visit. They were more than OK, almost begging us to visit them with the promise of VIP entry and free champagne. Whilst, as a general rule, I preferred Italian wines, I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially when I knew the 'mouth' would be free publicity for the club and us. Which, when translated, meant plenty of paparazzi. I helped fan the flames by reaching out to my Daily Mail contact earlier in the week to give her a heads up about the party, saying that I was expecting the paparazzi to be out in force, suggesting that she break the news of my impending private party.

Of course, that backfired on me as the world and its wife started blowing up my phone trying to get an invitation. I just turned the ringer off; problem solved! People can always leave a voice mail or, better yet, message me. Besides, those who really knew me should have had enough imagination to think of alternative ways of getting a message to me, like using the grapevine that penultimately ends with Asha, Wendy or Gillian.

The evening was a brilliant success, with everybody having a fantastic time, but to me, personally, it still felt somewhat bittersweet. Yes, I was enjoying myself with wonderful friends. However, there was no escaping the critical fact this was supposed to be my wedding day, and I couldn't help but keep thinking about Lisa. One moment, I missed her terribly, and the next, I hated her for abandoning me. Thankfully, I suppressed the worst of the sad moments to a couple of episodes throughout the evening.

It transpired that everyone involved received excellent publicity. We had established the club as a party destination. Gilly Bell received a major boost to its bridalwear business, doing particularly well with non-traditional coloured wedding dresses, and Gillian was proved so right with the shoe's popularity. I was being labelled a top party host with what was being dubbed as the ultimate gothic wedding party, which, of course, rubbed off on the salon's bridal styling business. Even Asha received a bump in demand purely from being present.

We finally called it a night a little after 3am. We slept until 11am when we needed to make a move. Our car was booked for 1:30pm to take us to catch the Eurostar train to Paris for a week away. Giving ourselves two and a half hours to kick out everyone who stayed overnight and ensure they were safely on their way home. Thankfully, most had travelled up to town on the train rather than drive.

In Paris, we did all the tourist things, including shopping. With two of us being well-known entities in the fashion business, we received very preferential treatment in most of the stores we visited. News spread through the grapevine quickly, and we received invites to visit various ateliers, including one demand from a particularly well-known fashion house. We visited four and apologised to the others, saying we would try to visit them next time we were in town if their gracious offer was still open.

Officials from the Fédération de la Haute Couture et de la Mode invited us to dinner Thursday evening. They were essentially on a fishing trip to see if they could get Gilly Bell to show in Paris instead of London. As much as London is one of the big four fashion centres, Paris commands a certain cachet. I expressed a certain interest in their suggestion and promised I would discuss the proposal with Gillian. Even suggesting, maybe we could discuss their proposal further during the next Paris Fashion Week.

The following week, we were back in London. On Monday, I went to work with Gillian, bringing her up to speed on the discussions we had. I took Asha and Wendy along with me. We finished earlier than normal, having an appointment to get the girl's ownership tattoos done.

I had chosen the tattoo studio where Asha trained as a body piercer. I made the arrangements with Rose, Asha's piercing mentor, remembering how keen she was for us to get tattoos the other year. I walked into the tattoo studio with both girls on leads. Rose was aware of what was required, having seen the picture of Wendy's Sharpe based temporary tattoo. She double checked both girls knew this would be permanent.

Asha turned round to the Rose and told her in no uncertain terms, "Do whatever you need to do to ensure it's truly permanent."

An impressed Rose replied, "You really mean it!"

Wendy went first. I ordered her to get undressed, leaving just her corset, stockings and shoes on, much to Rose's amusement.

Wendy commented on one of Rose's piercings, "I think your Medusa piercing looks cute."

Rose replied, "Do you want one?" Hoping to drum up business.

Wendy answered, "I wouldn't mind," acting all shy.

I stated, "She is going to have plenty more piercings, especially her ears and vulva, and if she is a good girl, maybe we'll include a medusa in her philtrum."

Wendy's demeanour turned to excitement.

Rose picked up on her reaction so she flicked Wendy's clit piercing as she teased her, "You really are a dirty little slut."

I added, "She's my beautiful little slut. Aren't you, honey?"

Wendy replied with a heartfelt, simple, "Thank you, Mistress."

Asha just looked heavenwards, shaking her head. Seeing her reaction, I demanded, "Strip down. It will soon be your turn, my sexy Persian slut."

Rose asked in all innocence, "Is calling someone Persian still acceptable?"

Asha answered, "My mum always describes herself as ethnically Persian. She was born in Persia, well, Iran, but when she was young, her family fled Iran when the Shah was overthrown, and she has lived in London ever since. I think it boils down to personal preference at the end of the day. My dad's family comes from Middlesex, so I'm just your typical Londoner."

Rose finished Wendy's ownership tattoo and started on Asha's.

Once done, out of courtesy, I asked Asha, "Do you mind if Rose does Wendy's medusa piercing?"

Asha responded, "Sure, go ahead." And with that, Rose pierced Wendy's cupid's bow, inserting an opal toped labret stud that I had selected. Asha took her revenge, "Don't worry, lover, I promise I will do all your other piercings."

We went straight home, where I put on a strap-on and had Wendy ride me cowgirl style whilst I admired the latest additions to my submissive pet. I trashed talked her while we fucked. Asking her if she enjoyed getting tattooed. When she replied 'yes', I teased her, saying I was going to have her completely covered with roses, which triggered her first orgasm. We continued as I drove her to her second climax with me dispensing the occasional smack to her bum, which was enough to push me over the edge, into a state of complete ecstasy.

I was certainly in no hurry for Asha to replace Wendy. Thankfully, Wendy was in no fit state to move for several minutes. Whilst Asha had freely given herself to me, she wasn't a true submissive. She was an alpha who liked to play the submissive, finding willing subs for us to play with and coming up with interesting games to tease them with. So, I wasn't surprised, once we were in our stride, that she tried to turn the tables on me when she stated, "I'm looking forward to being completely covered in tattoo roses."

"That's excellent news for when you've finally finished working as a model."

"There are plenty of models working with tattoos." She argued.

"You have a tattoo, and you enjoy modelling, not to mention the money it brings in, way too much to risk reducing your appeal with excessive tats."

"Oh my god, I really am your whore. You are truly worried about how much I earn for you."

"Too right, bitch," I said coldly as I thrust my way home causing her to scream as she orgasmed.

I kept fucking her hard, dragging her climax out. When it started to wane, I grabbed her clitoris piercing between my thumb and finger, pulling and twisting it to bring her back to the boil. The moment she orgasmed again, I let my impending climax take me.

On Tuesday, I split my time between working with Gillian and attending board meetings remotely, along with attending a business dinner in the evening accompanied by Asha.

Early Wednesday morning, we had a meeting with a rather attractive lady by the name of Emily Anderson. I had been passed her name by a mutual friend. She preferred to be called Em, was in her mid-forties, and had been recently widowed after twenty years of marriage. Unfortunately, they never managed to have children. She blamed being too career-focused until she was in her mid-thirties. They spent the next few years trying without success, only to find that her husband's sperm count was incredibly low. They considered adopting, but neither of them felt they would be able to bond with an adopted child, so they refocused on their jobs in finance. Which left her feeling hollow, and with the death of her husband from cancer, she was desperate for a change.

Partly with three of us living busy lives in the house and our trans-Atlantic lifestyle. Along with having received a written warning from the house cleaning company. Thanks to yours truly telling one of their employees to get out using extremely colourful language whilst I was busy grieving the loss of Lisa. I felt it was time we hired a full-time live-in housekeeper cum house sitter. Hence our meeting with Em this morning. We spent half an hour getting to know one another before I let the girls get back to their lives. Then I outlined the job to Em as essentially keeping the house clean, but not per se tidying up after us, doing the laundry, buying groceries, and house sitting while we are away.

Next, I took her on a tour of the house, starting with the loft rooms we had earmarked for her use, explaining that we would happily remodel the space to meet her needs. We moved down to the second floor, which currently contained the guest bedrooms, I explained that some of them would become our babies' bedrooms over the next five years. What followed then was a lecture from Em about not leaving it too late. I reassured her we wouldn't, going as far as telling her we already had a large quantity of sperm on ice from a single donor, so all the babies would be related.

We moved down to the first floor where I showed her the suites. I said that most nights we slept together in my bed, which seemed a suitable point to mention Lisa. We moved on to the ground floor whilst we continued to talk, eventually ending up in the basement, leaving the playroom to last. As we entered, I mentioned that she'd probably guessed that Asha and Wendy are submissive, and this will be our playroom once the furniture and other kit has been delivered.

Em laughed and said, "It's cool as long as I don't have to call you mistress."

I jokingly answered using my best Received Pronunciation voice, "Well, Mrs Anderson, it is either that or Ms Williams." Which was all I could manage before cracking up.

Once we finished giggling, I suggested we get ourselves another coffee and discuss the next steps. Which included broaching the subject of male lovers, with this being a lesbian household. She said she was bisexual until she met her husband and was leaning more towards women rather than men because she didn't want to belittle the memory of her husband. I also touched on the handling of disputes as I explained the tirade I let fly that resulted in the warning letter I received. She laughed at the story, saying she had to face far worse daily, working in finance. She said everyone is entitled to lose their shit now and then, going on to say it's what happens next that determines whether any redress is necessary. You can shrug off a one-off, but when it becomes habitual, then action needs to be taken.

Em continued stating she was well up to going toe to toe with some screaming little prima donna. Even threatening to pull them over her knee and give their arses a good smacking, then adding, your girls would probably enjoy that, though.

I liked Em. She felt like an older version of Susan and wasn't fazed by our proclivities or fame. I asked her if she could provide references. Of course, she came prepared and pulled out a personal reference from her boss, who clearly knew she was looking to leave. It highlighted her work ethic and discretion. So, I offered her the job there and then. She accepted, telling me she could start in four weeks once she had worked her notice period. I said that sounded brilliant, but we have a few things to discuss once we are covered by a non-disclosure agreement.

Pulled out a printed NDA I had strategically placed in one of the dresser drawers. I gave her as much time as she needed to read through it. She signed it, commenting that it was pretty standard. Next, we danced around attitudes to LGBTQ+ as I slowly worked up to telling her I was trans. Given she had bi tendencies, I was correct in expecting no issues.

Once Em was over the shock, I provided a high-level overview of my journey and reminded her I wanted, no needed, to be seen as a woman with no specific prefix attached. She confirmed that wouldn't be an issue, saying as far as she knew I was female, thanked me for my honesty, and said she completely understood the need for the NDA but questioned whether I needed to say anything. I explained the last thing I wanted was to invite some transphobe into my home. As our housekeeper, you will come across things like my prescription hormone tablets and dilators in the bedside cabinet, along with the odd mementoes from my childhood.

With that successfully out of the way, I said that it would be excellent if she was living here before the 3rd of January. She suggested moving in on the 30th of December to my absolute delight. I said she would receive a written offer by email by the end of the day. I saw her to the door, asked Wendy to sort the paperwork, and just barely made it onto an 11am board meeting call.

By Thursday, it felt like everything was grinding to a halt for the Christmas holidays, except for Wendy, who was still very much full-on. It was the final club night of the year. I was hosting, and Asha was on door duty. Wendy turned up at her normal time of around 1:30am, with a couple of good-looking naked girls on leads, which no doubt Asha had acquired whilst working the door. Presumably, they failed the door policy, and they had accepted Asha offer of being her pets for the night.

The only trouble was I had been joined by a couple of girls whom we'd previously enjoyed. I decided to have the old hands play with the new girls just to check out how serious these girls were about being submissives at a lesbian orgy. Suffice to say, we ended up seven in bed that night. More accurately, seven in the bedroom, as the sofa seeing just as much action as the bed.

The next morning, before anybody left, the repeat player who was incredibly hairy downstairs when we first met asked Asha, "Where are you going to pierce me, mistress?"

I intervened, "You still want to be owned, slut?"

"Oh god, yes," she answered.

"Pierce her nipples," I ordered.

Asha queried, "You previously threatened her with having her nipples pierced both vertically and horizontally. She has quite long nipples, so I'm certain I could do both in one sitting. Are you OK with that, mistress?"

"Definitely."

"You can also pierce my foof if you want," was the girl's response.

"Don't worry, that will be next, honey."

I turned towards her companion. "Your friend aspires to be owned, and she knows she will end up with so many piercings before getting her ownership tattoo. Are you seeking ownership, or expecting another visit?"

"I need to be owned, mistress."

"You know the price."

"Yes, mistress, you will choose some new piercings for me."

"Spot on bitch, I see you already have a belly button piercing along with the nose piercings we gave you during your last visit. So, I think your nipples and clitoris are next."

The newbies were next. One already had her septum pierced, the other had a single nostril piercing. We completed their set of septum and nostrils piercings, along with a clitoris hood piercing.

The moment Asha had finished, we were busy putting girls into rides so we could start our Christmas.

We made a conscious decision to have a peaceful Christmas together at home. I was looking forward to turning into my mother for a few days, cooking mince pies and sausage rolls on Christmas Eve. Opening presents and cooking a full roast turkey dinner with all the trimmings on Christmas Day. Then spending a ridiculous amount of time over the following days burning off the excess fat. The three of us had a nice relaxing time, exchanging presents on Christmas Day morning before having our dinner. Wendy thanked me for making Christmas special for her again. Since she came out, Christmas at her parents' had been frosty at best.

Personally, it felt wonderful spending time with people who loved me for who I am. Of course, I missed Lisa, but no more than any other day, and if I kept myself occupied, my mind wouldn't wonder towards her. Her desertion still haunted me, a mystery I couldn't solve.

Wendy was working from Tuesday through to Saturday, 1st January, her last day at the bar. Asha and I took the time between Christmas and New Year to chill. We both visited our respective families on Tuesday. I stayed overnight and travelled back on Wednesday morning. On Thursday, I had a postponed photo shoot at the house. I seized the opportunity of having Wendy pose to discover if she had that certain something. At the very least, I knew we'd end up with a bunch of professional photos featuring her. They turned out better than I had hoped, a sentiment shared by the photo editors I shared copies with over the following weeks. So, it looks like Wendy will probably find herself modelling. I put the wheels in motion with my agency booker, and she was soon under contract on similar terms to me.

Also, on Thursday, Em started moving her property in. We had arranged for a removals company to provide a van plus a small team to move the furniture that she wanted to bring. All she required fixing in the flat was the installation of a lockable door. Wendy arranged for the builder who did the playroom to install a partial wall with locking door across the landing early in January. Em explained she had a whole house to pack up that she'd lived in for ten years, containing all the junk one accumulates over twenty years of marriage. In the new year, she planned on bringing over everything that she was attachment to, with the rest either going into storage, sold, given to charity or binned. She had set herself a target to have the house ready for renting by the end of March.

Thankfully, the fetish club didn't operate between Christmas and New Year, meaning we had a relatively early night, falling asleep a little after 2am.

Friday, Wendy and I went to the salon for our regular hair and nail appointments plus Wendy's electrolysis. A day earlier than normal because the salon was shut tomorrow, it being New Year's Day. Yes, I was well aware that I was stopping Lisa from working on one of her busiest days of the year, but she shouldn't have left me whilst still expecting me to drive business to the salon.

Asha and I went to the SheBar around 10pm so we could celebrate with Wendy, it being New Year's Eve, even though she was working. We invited Em to join us, but she politely declined, preferring a quiet night alone.

Since the girls had committed to me, the sex had been wonderful, mostly very loving, with the occasional visit from my dominant alter ego. However, the lack of sleep during the last couple of weeks in London was taking its toll. I was so looking forward to Wendy taking up her new role as my Executive Assistant for so many reasons, sleep definitely being a major factor.

Saturday came around, Wendy's last day managing the bar. She had an air of quiet confidence about her as if she understood what was coming next was her true destiny. We went with her to the bar. She had been asked to go in early to complete paperwork, etc. The directors greeted her on arrival, hosting a brief farewell ceremony before the bar opened. Apparently, she had been their longest-serving staff member, and they would miss her infectious enthusiasm terribly. She worked until 9:30pm before being dragged out from behind the bar by a couple of directors to enjoy a drink. We left about 11:30pm, went home and made love into the early hours.

Sunday was a day to recover. Monday, we all travelled to NYC for a couple of weeks. When we arrived, Wendy and I went into the office. For Wendy, it was a soft start, her official first day being Tuesday. I had brought her in on the similar terms to myself.

We arrived back Friday morning. I spent the afternoon working with Gillian. Saturday, Wendy and I were at the salon having our regular fortnightly treatments before seeing clients wanting style makeovers.

On Sunday, we started a week's skiing in Val d'Isère. It was Wendy's first time, and she took to it well. Asha had been several times previously, and whilst not as accomplished as I was no slouch. We had a truly fantastic time, unfortunately our week felt too short, and we were back in Blighty.

Chapter 12 Arrival

Em had supervised the door installation whilst we were in NYC. Which allowed Wendy to spend the following week focused on finishing the play dungeon and getting started on refurbishing the cottage. On Friday evening, Wendy showed off the completed and fully equipped dungeon playroom. I decided to strike while the iron was hot and start putting it to use. So, I attached leads to both girls, fitting a ball gag to Asha, and then I had Wendy describe each piece of equipment, using Asha to show how it works.

I told Wendy to leave the Sybian sex machine to last. She showed me how to change the dildos. I selected one designed for double penetration with a larger dildo for the vagina and a smaller one for the anus. Following my command, Asha mounted it with a demonstration of pure lust. After securely fitting her wrist cuffs, I attached her, via the cuffs O-rings, to the hoist located above the Sybian. Using the hoist to raise her arms so that she was half sitting and half suspended on the device. I selected a long running program that started slowly and gradually picked up the pace. I slapped Asha's arse hard and said rather coldly, "Enjoy slut," as I pressed start.

Next, I fitted Wendy's wrist and ankle cuffs so I could attach her spread-eagled to the frame in the middle of the room, giving me access to all sides of her body. I warned her I was going to try out a paddle, cane and whip on her. She just smiled wantonly at me. I informed her she was going to receive a dozen strikes from each implement, and she was to count out each hit. There would be no safe word and no stopping once we started. I asked her if she understood.

She looked straight at me and said, "I've been such a naughty girl, mistress. I so need to be punished," in the sweetest teasingly cute baby girl voice I've ever heard.

I checked how eager she was by pushing a couple of fingers into her vagine. She was seriously wet and when I started to finger fuck her, she let out such a hungry, "Oh yes." I took her to the edge before abruptly withdrawing my fingers. She let out a muted, almost whispered, "No."

I picked up a leather paddle and teased her with it by dragging it across her breasts, over her bum and along her legs whilst trash-talking her, including getting her to admit to being a submissive slut. That is when I delivered the first smack to her left buttock. She let out a little yell before immediately recovering as she said, "One."

I delivered the next to her right buttock. She gave a very controlled, "Two," in response.

The next smack landed on her right thigh. She almost let out another yell before stating, "Three."

Then to her left thigh. The shock had worn off now as she immediately replied, "Four."

I moved round to her front, whispering to her "I hope you are enjoying this slut," and before she could answer, I smacked her left breast. It only made a dull smacking sound, so I returned to her back to deliver the remaining smacks, selecting at random where to plant each smack whilst she called out the number.

All this time, she was on the edge, almost coming as I dragged my nails over her lady bits. I changed implements. I suspected Asha's moans didn't help as she rode the Sybian. Selecting a cane next, I placed the first stroke across the top of her bum, followed by three more dropping down an inch with each hit. Next, I delivered four more, working down the tops of her legs. I changed sides, kissing her as I passed. I ordered she stick her breasts out as I delivered a smack across them that sounded perfect. Wendy let out an "Ouch," before saying, "Nine."

I delivered the remaining stokes with no additional reaction. Then, just as I was about to turn away and change implements, she begged me to hit her fanny rapidly until she came. My curiosity was piqued to see if she would orgasm from being caned. So, as requested, I gave her fanny a firm tap. Seeing her hungry reaction, I followed up with more taps, less than a second apart. I knew what her tells were as her orgasm approached, and they were all present.

She squirted over the cane as she came, letting out a long moan that ended with the demand, "Oh god, harder."

I obliged, increasing the firmness. Every impact triggered a mini orgasm. I slowly extended the time between taps, and after several minutes, I stopped when she looked like she couldn't take anymore.

When I began letting her down, she protested, "No, you haven't used a whip yet."

"I look after my toys, and you've had enough."

Wendy collapsed as I finished removing her from the frame. I heaved her over my shoulder to carry her to the four-poster bed, in effect proving my point. I collapsed onto the bed next to her, holding her to me whilst we passed the time, watching Asha have yet another orgasm courtesy of the Sybian. Asha looked to be on a completely different plane of existence as she surfed the waves of orgasms generated by the Sybian.

They were both so willing to please, triggering within me such an extreme feeling of empowerment. Knowing this would be a regular occurrence was utterly intoxicating. I was in complete control and felt strangely satisfied, even though I hadn't come yet.

Once the Sybian program finished, it took quite some time for Asha to reach a point where she could focus on anything other than the extreme fucking she was so willing to endure. Eventually, her focus settled on us.

I asked if she had enjoyed herself. She nodded her agreement vigorously; It was all she could do being suspended with a ball gag still in her mouth. I needed to try it for myself. After all, it was the most feasible way for me to achieve sexual gratification, given the current state of the girls. So, I wandered over, grabbed the lube, squirted some onto my fingers and started playing with my bits. Once my vagina and anus were suitable lubricated, I used the controls to lift Asha off the Sybian. The look of abject disappointment as the dildoes plopped free was almost funny. I lowered the bench the device was mounted on so my feet could comfortably reach the floor when I was riding it. Then, making sure I had the manual controls to hand, I mounted the device, letting out a deep long lustful moan as I was double penetrated.

I lifted my body a few times to get settled. It felt so wonderful, I could have bought myself to climax with minimum effort riding and grinding both phalluses just by myself. However, I was desperate to give the device a proper workout. Showing self-restraint, I lowered Asha, making sure that she was facing me, and ensuring she had a leg on either side of me until she was sitting on what passed for my lap. I pulled her ball gag free and told her to, "Kiss me, bitch, whilst I see if this is truly as good as it looks for myself." Asha smiled for the briefest moment before she forced her mouth onto mine. She started kissing, forcing her tongue into my welcoming mouth, exploring and wantingly clashing, her tongue piercing against mine.

I pushed the start button on the Sybian, and I was on my way to heaven. I tried to delay my orgasm by lifting myself almost off, but the moment I dropped back down, the sensation was twice as strong, and I found myself enjoying my first orgasm. The device was relentless, not giving me a moment's rest as I experienced what felt like one long, continuous orgasm. I pushed myself up to get some relief. However, the instance I dropped back, it triggered a climax, which seemed to be twice as intense.

Eventually, I was screaming with pleasure every time I came, and I was holding onto Asha for support. The bitch whispered into my ear things like, "It's so good you just have to keep riding" and "That's right, keep coming mistress." I kept going at the same relentless pace until it became too intense. I spent another ten minutes gradually dropping the pace whilst I gradually came back down to earth. Using the controls, I eventually raised Asha up and slowly dismounted.

Wendy had recovered enough that she was standing beside me, all smiles. She kissed me as soon as I was off and helped me find my balance. Asha begged for another go, so I spun her around and lowered her down. I was going to replace her gag when she begged to be kissed whilst being fucked by the machine, so I told Wendy to kiss her. I controlled the machine manually, slowly increasing its speed until she climaxed and then bringing her slowly down the other side.

We lifted her off and helped her to the bed, attaching her cuffs to the headboard. She started complaining, yet soon shut up when I threatened her with the pet cage at the bottom of the bed as an alternative. For good measure, I pushed her gag back on before fitting her ankle cuffs on and using ropes to attach them to the footboard.

I motioned for Wendy to get on the bed. As soon as she was on, I attached her wrist cuffs to the headboard and her ankle cuffs to the footboard using ropes, just like Asha. I teased Wendy about not begging to go on the Sybian. She blushed as she confessed to having christened it when she installed it. With that, I attached a ball gag to her.

I selected a vibrator, grabbed some lube and climbed onto the bed, positioning myself between the two of them. Then I covered the vibrator with a generous amount of lube, turned it on and let it slide into my vagina. I worked it back and forth a few times, although I was still nice and wet from earlier. I pulled it out and, keeping hold of it in my right hand, I turned towards Wendy, placing my left hand over her fanny. She moaned as I curled my fingers, teasing her, until they were over her opening. I let a couple of fingers slide into her, scissoring them to make sure she was nice and open. Then, without warning, I pushed the vibrator in deep. She let another moan escape past her gag. I slowly worked the vibrator in and out of her, ensuring that I was hitting her G-spot. She was close to coming. I ordered she wait until I gave her permission to come. She spent the next quarter of an hour trying her hardest to hold on, pleading as best she could with a gag in her mouth before I relented by telling her to come. Immediately, she experienced an explosive orgasm as she squirted for the second time that night. I continued to work her through her orgasm until it passed when I turned over and did Asha.

Finally, my turn had arrived. I lazily worked myself to the brink before backing off several times before I let myself climax. I continued to fuck myself with the vibrator, keeping my orgasm going for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, I switched the vibrator off, leaving it trapped inside me with my legs securely shut. I gradually ran a hand up each girl individually, starting with their fannies and running up to their breasts before finally pulling on their nipple rings, receiving lustful moans from them both.

That was the instance I knew without a doubt that I absolutely loved dominating women. It just felt so perfect. I knew once Lisa was back, she would be another one of my submissives. This time, there would be no escape whilst I dominated the treacherous, backstabbing bitch. I was so going to enjoy making her pay for having abandoned me.

With those thoughts running through my mind, I drifted off to sleep, experiencing a level of focus and contentment that I had not felt since Lisa's dad died.

Chapter 13 Biding

When I woke up Saturday morning, it took me a few moments to get my bearings and to realise we'd spent the night in the playroom. Asha seemed relieved that I was awake. I guess she needed to pee or something. I played dumb and teased her for a few minutes before releasing her. Unfortunately, when I checked the time, I realised we had overslept and desperately needed to get a wiggle on to avoid being late arriving at the salon. I freed Wendy. We grabbed a quick shower, dressed, and applied minimal makeup in record time just as the car turned up. Wendy didn't seem bothered that she still had her wrist and ankle cuffs on as we headed towards the door.

Em, bless her, had made coffee to go, having seen us rushing upstairs to get ready.

I decided to revert back to black hair and nails. It was my signature look for years, and whilst I loved the petrol hair look, I felt that black suited a dominatrix better. Plus, I felt it provided more flexibility as a model. I told Wendy she should keep the look, saying it really suited her.

I had a single client. It being January, people were less likely to spend just after the holiday season. We arrived back in town a little after 6pm. We had invites to some fashion related party starting at 10pm. I suggested we eat dinner out before going on to the party. We were back by 1am. The party was exceptional lame, so it wasn't long before we made our excuses and exited. We slept in my bed and made love sans toys, with me delivering the occasional smack to the girls' bums, especially Wendy's.

Sunday, we had committed to helping Em clear her house. She was understandably struggling because of all the memories she had experienced there. The house was a nice sized townhouse, a testament to Em and her husband's success. She let slip that she had enough savings to retire on. Even admitting to having given serious consideration to selling the house, buying some place on the coast and living her life like a rich Edwardian widower with some poor younger companion to boss around where every they went.

I was lost for words. Did Em just confess to wanting a submissive lover? How do I respond without offending her if I'm wrong? I decided my only option was to join in playfully and do an impression of some Agatha Christie or P G Wodehouse pastiche version of a mature rich widower. Thankfully, it worked, but this was something I was going to revisit when the opportunity presented itself.

By the end of the day, we had boxed up the contents of three rooms, packing his and her items into separate boxes. We promised to assist with anything remaining once we were back from the fall/winter fashion shows.

The three of us were up bright and early the next morning to travel to NYC for final preparations for this year's fall/winter fashion month. For Wendy and me, it meant lots of editorial meetings with the usual attendance at dinners and parties. We all had fittings for NYC shows we were walking in. This rapidly became a baptism of fire for Wendy, who was in demand as a novelty due to her relationship with Asha and me. NYC week kicked off on Saturday, and we travelled back during the day on Thursday. Avoiding the redeye was an absolute joy. However, we still slept for most of the journey.

Still being on East Coast time, we decided to visit the club and returned home with a couple of girls who were desperate to be dominated. I suspended Wendy on the Sybian and selected a long running program. Whilst Asha started strapping the two girls face-to-face onto the frame. I selected the same cane that I used on Wendy the other week. Asha chose a whip. We toyed with the girls mercilessly. The girls were most definitely submissive, given their reaction to being caned and whipped, not to mention the way one girl begged for more when I started fingering her. I started with a couple of fingers and, at her demanding, soon ended up with my whole fist in her. I was stunned that a girl would voluntarily choose to have such a large object in her fanny, but here I was fisting her to multiple orgasms. Yes, I'd seen porn featuring it, but the improbability of having a girl beg for it blew my mind.

Once we had finished playing with the girls, we placed an exhausted Wendy on the bed and said our goodbyes to the girls. They both started angling for when they could have another session. What was worse, the girl I had fisted wanted to know what she had to do to get an ownership tattoo like Asha and Wendy. Asha knew the score and fetched her piercing kit whilst I gave them the lecture.

As we led the freshly pierced girls out to their Uber, Em was already up and waiting for the coffee to brew. As they walked by, Em cheekily stated, "Nice."

"They are both looking for a new mistress if you are interested," I mentioned.

"Thanks, but no thanks, I'm not there yet," she answered matter of factly.

London Fashion Week was a success, especially the Gilly Bell show on Monday, including the after-show party. The three of us walked the show, with yours truly closing the show, being somewhat provocative as was the norm for our shows. Lisa was effectively banned, so Jane led the hair and makeup styling again. When she was doing my hair, I asked about Lisa. Jane said Lisa seemed to be sadder now, but they were not as close as they used to be following Lisa's elopement, so she could only speculate why. I received the same story from Kim when she did my nails.

On Wednesday morning, we travelled to Milan along with the rest of the fashion circus. I had made a conscious decision to limit my modelling, so I only walked in three shows in Milan and four in Paris. As opposed to Asha, who walked in seven and ten, respectively. Even new girl Wendy walked in more shows than me. Gillian joined us for several days in Paris, mainly so we could explore the possibility of Gilly Bell showing in Paris. We came away feeling it wasn't appropriate for the Gilly Bell brand, but we felt we could create a brand that took elements of Gilly Bell and merged them with classic Parisian chic understated style. We agreed to have further meetings, effectively buying ourselves more time.

Gillian's visit coincided with Wendy's birthday on Thursday. We went out for a meal to celebrate at an exclusive Michelin stared restaurant. Wendy received a whole bunch of presents. I bought her an Aspinal's Midi Mayfair bag in navy velvet detailed with a hand embroidered peacock knowing it would go so well with the blue-green peacock look she had made her own.

We travelled back to NYC on Wednesday, the 9th of March, where I put the finishing touches to the magazine's coverage before putting the edition to bed. Wendy had proven her worth during the fashion weeks; she handled many of the low-level editorial meetings, ensuring that I only had to get involved when truly necessary. We returned home to London the following Friday. Enjoying our first normal weekend for ages, working in the salon on Saturday and spending Sunday helping Em again. Em had finished packing up most of the rooms in her house and had reached the stage where clearing stuff out had become positively cathartic.

I cooked dinner in the evening for everyone when we returned. I had grown close to Em. She had become like a cool mum or big sister to us, who magically made things happen in our home. We were alone in the kitchen whilst I cooked. She wanted to explore the satisfaction I gained from dominating women. Her curiosity way exceeded mere idle interest. She was considering what qualities she desired in a partner, and found the dynamic I had with the girls, especially the dominant elements, utterly fascinating. She marvelled over my natural authority that just seemed to ooze from me, regardless of the situation.

I explained both girls committed themselves to me without prompting. At least not from me, although I wouldn't be surprised if Asha hadn't planted and nurtured the idea of Wendy giving herself to me. I described myself as an extreme control freak who must be in charge, so having my own real life Barbie dolls to play with was guaranteed to appeal.

Asha worked for me for over three years prior to any sexual activity. I considered her a friend. Lisa and I bumped into her at a BDSM party three years ago, where I was parading Lisa on a lead. She hurled herself at us. Delivering the most deeply passionate kisses to us both. Leaving no doubt as to her motives, especially when she asked if I had another collar she could wear. She's a natural dom, however since we've hooked up, she's been a submissive switch only letting her dom side out to protect me or to pick up girls for us to play with, typically, at fetish clubs.

I was recovering from the shock of losing Lisa and was searching for a causal hook up when I met Wendy. She was so open to experimenting, it soon exploded into something much more intense. Within 48 hours, she had discovered she loved exotic piercings, high heels, butt plugs, and lesbian orgies. Plus, she had outed herself as an exhibitionist and a natural submissive. We slept together almost every night for the next week, often with Asha, as I continued to push her, telling her how I was going to mould her. She set some peripheral limits, but in reality, she just lapped it all up.

I was in NYC for the next two weeks and returned only to discover they had unilaterally moved in, much to my delight.

Asha seemed to have a knack for identifying subs, along with having an impressive collection of chat up lines. During club nights, we regularly had a large pool of willing subs to choose from. In fact, we had become infamous for our after-party parties, which acted like a beacon drawing in evermore submissive women. We even ensured Wendy had girls to play with. Who was happy given her love of being queened.

As for the submissive girls we bought back to the house. They all wanted dominating, with a significant proportion seeking permanent mistresses. I suspected the majority would happily give over complete control of their lives to a loving mistress. However, in every consensual, enduring BDSM relationship, it's ultimately the submissive who determines the actions and boundaries of the dominant.

Chapter 14 Cracks

Mid-afternoon Monday, March 21st, Annie called whilst I was working with Gillian. She had some interesting news for me: Lisa had contacted Annie, deeply stressed about her marriage, and wanted to explore her options. Rob had been increasing the pressure to spend her inheritance on him to the point where she was seriously regretting marrying him. Annie ran through Lisa's options, which she summarised as continuing as-is, annulment or legal separation, followed by applying for divorce on or after the first anniversary and then waiting 20 weeks to get the decree.

Annulment requires the marriage to be void or voidable. To be void it requires Rob to be married already, which we know he isn't. Voidable, requires both parties to agree the marriage hasn't been consummated, or one party was under duress or incapable, although this route would probably be slower than waiting to divorce.

The legal separation will be straightforward if he doesn't contest it. If he contests, it means mediation before we can get the courts to enforce an agreement, by which time she will probably be able to file for divorce. Annie felt it might be useful to drop the possibility of pursuing a gaslighting charge, with the possibility of him doing time, as leverage to force him to agree to the separation agreement if he doesn't play nicely.

Divorce proceedings cannot start until after the first anniversary of the marriage. Following a legal separation, the divorce essentially becomes a formality. Twenty weeks after the divorce application has been issued by the court, you can apply for the conditional order. Then an additional 43 days wait before a final order can be applied for, when granted, will allow her to marry again.

Continuing as-is requires that she believes the marriage has a future. Given that Rob seems to be following his previous pattern of behaviour, along with Lisa having reached out, it implies that she has real concerns about the marriage. Annie said she clearly stated the dangers with this option, which she summarised as the longer they are together, the more entwined and complex their financial position will become and the greater the chance of him getting his hands on some of her money.

Annie reported that Lisa was disappointed by the timeframe, which Annie interpreted as another positive indication that Lisa was serious about ending the marriage and used it to advocate for her to proceed with legal separation. Lisa ended the call, stating that she should never have left me and needed to contemplate her next steps.

I asked whether Annie had touched on what Lisa's current living arrangements were and what they would be once she decided to separate. She hadn't. I told her to leave it with me. After a quick call to Margaret, Lisa's mum, I was back on the phone with Annie. I suggested she call Lisa to check in on her and mention that she should speak to her mum and tell her what was happening. Tell Lisa that the moment she leaves him, her mum will welcome her home with open arms.

Lisa likes to consider things before deciding. So, I wasn't surprised she delayed instructing Annie to start the process of legal separation. At least, Annie had the courtesy to avoid reminding me we still had over a year before we could marry. Of course, that assumes we still want to get married. I know I still want her, but she has plenty of explaining and convincing to do, starting with why she abandoned me, before I will feel safe committing to her again.

On Wednesday, I had a text message from Margaret telling me Lisa was staying with her.

Then, on Thursday, Annie contacted me with the message, "Just sent the first draft of the legal separation application."

I decided now was the moment to break my silence. I sent a simple text to Lisa that read, "Just heard about your separation. No words, just hugs ????."

I received a reply almost immediately, "Thanks ???? can we talk?"

I replied a few minutes later with, "Still hurting ❤️‍???? Let's take it slow. Just hugs for now ❤️."

Over the next ten days, I received loads of messages from Lisa trying to engage me in conversation. Some I replied to quite cordially; others I ignored. It was a real balancing act as I tried to rebuild a friendship whilst maintaining my distance. It provided an additional complication during my visit to my parents at the weekend. I kept the news from them as I wasn't prepared to deal with their reaction whatever way it might fall.

Saturday rolled around, and I was working at the salon. As usual, Wendy was with me.

Kim was finishing my nails when Lisa appeared, standing by the door to the rear. She mouthed "Hello" along with a nervous little finger wave to me, looking like a lost soul.

I smiled whilst I nodded my hello back. Wendy was ready to intervene. "It's OK." I whispered to Wendy. Lisa held her spot, watching and waiting patiently.

Once Kim said she was done, I took a deep breath, stood, and faced Lisa. I suggested we go through to the office to talk. Wendy was going to follow until I signalled for her to stay. I followed Lisa into the office, closing the door behind us before turning around to hug her. We both burst into tears whilst we hugged. I whispered in her ear, telling her to let it all out.

We hugged for quite some time before Lisa whispered, "I'm so sorry."

I realised she desired to say more, but all she could manage was to sob uncontrollably. I hugged her tighter and replied with a simple, "I know, baby."

She spent a few minutes regaining her composure. "You've moved on. You have Wendy now."

"It's a little more complex than that." I waited for a reaction. Lisa gripped on tighter, so I continued, "Wendy and Asha have both moved into the bedroom across the hall from ours. And yes, I'm sleeping with them most nights." I paused again.

"You said ours. Please, is there still hope for us?"

My heart missed a beat. She still wanted me. I swallowed. Keeping my cool and the initiative, I answered, "Of course there is, but you broke my heart, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to trust you again. I have loads of questions that need answering, and I'm still not ready to ask them without screaming and shouting at you."

She squeezed herself against me. "What can I do to prove myself to you?"

Returning her hug, I answered, "Have nothing more to do with Rob. Have Annie file for divorce as soon as possible. And be celibate whilst you wait for me."

She took a moment to reply, "Celibacy seems a tad harsh seeing as you are fucking Wendy and Asha."

In disgust, I pushed her away. "I don't want to argue with you, but you have no idea of how I've suffered. I waited for over two months for you without sex whilst you were supposedly getting your head together. Except the only getting together you were doing was with some fucking bastard, who you eloped with and married. Even after you had assured me you had completely sworn off dick. God only knows how long you had been fucking him before you dismissed me."

I moved to the entrance, stopped, glanced over my shoulder and said, "I know I must be stupid or something, but I still love you. If you truly love me, you will certainly know what you need to do. After all, you broke me, so you need to give me time to heal."

I left without waiting for a reply.

About half an hour later, Lisa appeared in the main salon. Clearly, she had been crying again. She waited patiently until I finished my current conversation. I called her over.

She launched into an apology. "I hadn't realised how much of a bitch I was and how much I hurt you. Please accept my apologies. I'm so sorry and I will do whatever it takes to win my girlfriend back."

I gave her a brief hug as I quietly said, "I know, but you have to go. My client is due in a minute." I finished giving her a quick peck on the cheek. Knowing I needed to end this, I turned and walked away towards the reception desk and started chatting with the receptionist whilst checking if my client had arrived. I didn't dare look back, instead praying that Lisa had left.

After a few minutes, I heard Wendy's voice behind me saying, "She's gone."

My relief was unprecedented. She checked I was OK. I reassured her I was good as my client arrived.

Later, during our drive back to town, she observed I didn't appear to be quite myself. I confessed it took all my control to maintain my distance and not to grab Lisa and just hold on to her while telling her I forgave her. Wendy queried if that would have been so bad. I explained I needed her to feel some of the pain I felt when she abandoned me. Plus, I desperately needed to understand why she left me before I could take her back. She insisted I provide a full rundown of what had happened in the office. I didn't leave any details out, especially the particulars over our joint confession we still wanting each another.

I had to repeat it all for Asha's benefit when we arrived home. Asha insisted we go to bed and make love to help me forget. It worked mostly, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I should have kept holding Lisa. I was almost back to myself on Sunday. I exercised in the gym during the morning, followed by helping Em finish packing the last few bits and pieces in her old home. We ate dinner out, returning home before 10pm as we were heading back to NYC first thing in the morning.

Lisa continued to message me, but not as frequently as she was. She appeared to be struggling with how to engage. I guessed she was still reeling from being shown how much of a bitch she was. The following Monday, Lisa moved on to messaging Wendy. It transpired that Jane provided the number. Lisa asked if she could call Wendy to talk. Wendy checked with me first. I said she should. It would be another channel for us to provide influence.

Wendy agreed to a 6pm local time call, 11pm for Lisa, giving the two of us about an hour between other meetings to strategize. I gave Wendy free rein with one proviso: I was in no rush to be in the same room as Lisa until her divorce was absolute. My reasoning was simple: I could not stomach the possibility of her going back to him.

On the dot of six, Wendy's phone started ringing. She returned the short distance to her office to take the call. Wendy recorded it and sent a link to me so I could listen to the conversation. It started with Lisa inquiring after the three of us. In response, Wendy asking after her and the salon. They spent the next fifteen minutes getting to know one another better, building rapport when Lisa announced, "I know I really hurt Andi and when I saw her the other week. She said I would know what to do, but I honestly don't have a clue except waiting, which seems completely wrong."

Wendy replied, "You need to be divorced from Rob before she will allow herself any form of intimacy with you. It's because she's terrified that you will just return to him. Personally, I would burn my relationship with Rob beyond the point of no return."

Lisa answered, "He's already done that. His solicitor is seeking half of everything I have."

"Annie will have that dismissed without breaking a sweat. You need to speak to her about a much more effective counterattack."

"OK, I will contact Annie tomorrow," Lisa replied, sounding somewhat defeated.

"You also need to explain why you left Andi and married Rob, especially since she'd just recovered from the bottom surgery you were so keen for her to have. Nobody has a clue why you left her. I've read the Dear Jane letter and all it says is you can't be with her anymore without giving a single reason. If only you had given a reason, it would have helped her cope with the loss of you. I don't think you have a single clue what not knowing has done to Andi."

"Fear consumed me, I was so scared over what I made her do. I made her mutilate herself with no guarantee everything would heal well, and I was sure she would end up resenting me for it. Then my dad died, and the expectation she would take over running his firm and be so busy I would barely see her."

"You are telling the wrong person," Wendy interrupted Lisa. "You need to sit tight and wait."

"So, I'm effectively in purgatory."

"You put yourself there. I'm sorry, I need to go now. I have a dinner meeting I'm expected at."

Wendy sure knew when to walk away.

"Can I call again?"

"I'll text you with a time and date," Wendy said as she ended the call.

I ended the playback, which triggered Wendy to ask, "Well?"

"She started spiralling and wasn't talking. I should have realised." I took a long breath as I finally let my grief go with one last act of revenge. "Purgatory's an appropriate term for what she put me through and what she's going to experience if she really wants me back."

All I wanted was to get back to just being me, the real me, with Lisa by my side.