Miss Susan had been delighted when Miss Chantelle told her that she and I had to visit my current clients to close out the merger and that we would be staying in a hotel for the week. She was of the opinion that a week with Miss Chantelle would be good for my attitude and behaviour. Over the course of the week, I knew they had been talking on the phone, but I had no idea what they were discussing. In the meantime, Miss Chantelle and I were making preparations for the site visit and Miss Chantelle had made the hotel booking for us; a suite, naturally and I would be driving us down on the Sunday.
On Saturday I did laundry, including hand-washing all our used lingerie; needless to say, I was naked, being in the apartment, Miss Susan was able to hear me moving around with my bells jingling. I packed a small case with bras, suspender belts, stockings, and shoes for the week ahead. I also put the dresses, skirt suits, and blouses which Miss Susan had chosen for me in a couple of garment hangers.
After I had served dinner and done the dishes, Miss Susan suggested we go to the pub, or to be more accurate, told me we were going to the pub. The clothes she chose for me were quite conservative, considering what she often had me wear; a mid-thigh mini skirt with a flowery blouse and 3" heels. Needless to say, there was no underwear involved and I still had to have my bells in place; Miss Susan wore her normal jeans and T-shirt. By now most people in the pub were used to seeing us together, so we didn't receive as many curious looks as we had to begin with; a young girl in a T-shirt and jeans with a woman old enough to be her mother, but from her attire clearly not her mother! We spent a pleasant couple of hours chatting over a bottle of wine, although I did feel uncomfortable when I went to the loo as I was sure people must be able to hear me jingling.
On returning from the pub, I spent a most pleasant hour or so worshipping Miss Susan; feet first, followed by breasts and arse, finally with my face firmly in her bush, tonguing her to multiple orgasms. Following that, she had me sit in front of her with my legs spread so she could watch as she allowed me to finger myself to my own climax. We had a nightcap before going to bed and fell asleep in each other's arms.
The following morning, after breakfast, Miss Susan had selected a mid-thigh flared mini dress for me to travel in, keeping the bells in place. She told me that it would be entirely down to Miss Chantelle when I was or was not to wear them. She also told me that she had talked with Miss Chantelle and that I was to be completely obedient to her and that it would also be entirely her decision if I required correction and what form it should take. As I went to take my things down to the car, she handed me another garment hanger, telling me not to look inside it and that Miss Chantelle was aware of its contents. Once my things were in the car, I returned upstairs and we hugged and kissed for a while, before she slapped me hard on the arse, telling me that I had better hurry and collect Miss Chantelle.
Parking outside Miss Chantelle's apartment building, I changed from my flat driving shoes into heels before ringing her bell. Telling me that her door was not locked as she buzzed me in, I deduced that she meant me to just walk in. As I entered, she was naked from the waist down, bending over a table; dropping to my hands and knees, I crawled over and, parting her magnificent arse cheeks, I buried my face between them and worshipped her arsehole. There was a distinctive aroma and earthy taste which started to turn me on.
Once Miss Chantelle was satisfied with my efforts, she had me help her into her knickers and jeans, telling me that her bags were by the door. I carried them down to the car, opening the passenger door for her to get in, before I stowed her bag and two garment hangers. A passing couple giggled as they watched me holding the door for Miss Chantelle and closing it after she was inside. Swapping my heels for my driving shoes, I settled into the drivers seat, starting to pull down the hem of my skirt, only to curtly be told to stop that and pull it higher instead! I should have known better, as she had me lift it up to my waist, exposing my bare mound. I am absolutely positive that quite a number of people enjoyed the spectacle as we cleared the city traffic.
As we approached the hotel, Miss Chantelle reached across and pulled the hem of my skirt down slightly. I changed back into my heels and walked around the car to open the door for Miss Chantelle, who told me to bring in the bags while she went to check us in. It was quite a struggle to manage both bags and the garment carriers, but I did it. As I walked into the lobby, I heard the receptionist ask Miss Chantelle if we wanted a porter to help with the bags. I could feel my face reddening as Miss Chantelle replied, "Oh, no need, Joanna can manage fine!" She strode over to the lift, me following behind; at least I had the privilege of watching her magnificent arse swaying in her tight jeans!
Once inside the suite, I immediately stripped and went to put away our clothes, only for Miss Chantelle to interrupt, "I need to pee, help me out of my jeans and knickers!" Kneeling, I obeyed before following her to the bathroom, where I lay on the floor while she stood legs wide apart over my face - a statuesque black beauty who soon let go a stream of pee right onto my face and mouth. Spluttering and blinking it out of my eyes, I did my best to swallow it all. Once I had cleaned her up, she had me put my heels back on while I finished putting the clothes away. As I put her lingerie into the drawer, I discovered that she had included a wide range of toys as well as a cane, which she told me she would not hesitate to use if I deserved it. She smiled at me as I mentioned the garment hanger I was not to open, just saying that I would find out when it was the right time for it.
Miss Chantelle decided we should go to the bar for cocktails before dinner and picked out a dress and heels for me, a skirt and blouse for her; of course, she got to wear underwear, although my bells were left behind! With us staying in an up-market hotel, my dress was actually quite restrained; mid-thigh and some cleavage. When we went into the bar, she ordered the drinks and left me to sign for them and bring them over to the table she was now at. We spent a pleasant hour over our cocktails before going to the dining room, where Miss Chantelle had made a reservation for us. I followed half a step behind her as she gave her name to the maître d'; well, it would be in her name! He showed us to our table, handing Miss Chantelle the wine list. When the waiter came, Miss Chantelle ordered for both of us, together with her choice of wine. After we had eaten, the waiter returned, asking Miss Chantelle if we wanted dessert; she demurred and I signed for the bill before we took the remains of our second bottle of wine up to the suite.
Miss Chantelle took a seat while I went to strip, with her telling me to keep my heels on and to attach the bells to my clit ring. I poured her a glass of wine and served it, waiting to be told if I was allowed one. She smiled approvingly, telling me to pour myself one as well. Patting her lap, she told me to sit, so I slid in as she put an arm around me, her fingers toying with my nipple, which, of course, perked. Suddenly, she pinched it hard between her nails, causing me to jerk, spilling a bit of wine on her skirt. I am positive she did it deliberately, as I knew what was coming before she even spoke. "Joanna, go and fetch the cane and put it on the table! While you're there fetch the leather paddle."
Doing as I was told, on my return she held her hand out for the paddle, telling me to bend over her lap. Starting with her hand, she alternated slaps on each cheek, getting harder as she warmed up. When she was satisfied with the redness and my tortured breathing, she took the paddle and really warmed my arse, tears rolling down my cheeks. Finally, she told me to go and fetch the cane, kneel, ask her forgiveness, and punish me properly for my clumsiness.
Kneeling and offering her the cane, I said, "Please Miss, please forgive me for my clumsiness in spilling wine on your skirt. Please punish me properly; it is what I deserve." Grinning, she took the cane from my outstretched hands and asked me how many strokes I thought I deserved. Thinking for a moment, I said hesitatingly, "Perhaps twelve Miss?"