Friday rolled around and it was with some trepidation that I went into the office. Passing through the outer office to my own where Miss Chantelle was already seated behind my desk, exuding an air of absolute authority. Lowering my eyes, I said, "Good morning Miss Chantelle." She told me to put down my attache case and handbag and go to get the coffee. Obeying the instruction, on my return, she pushed back the chair slightly, showing that she had hiked up her skirt and removed her knickers. Knowing what was required of me, I squeezed down under my desk, my head between her thighs. By the time I had finished pleasuring her my face was well and truly coated with her juices. With a broad grin on her face, she told me that, as I had no meetings today, there would be no need to wash my face, but just to repair my lipstick.
I can say with some certainty that it is a little bit difficult to concentrate on work when one's nostrils are full of pussy scent, but somehow I managed to get through the day and complete my tasks. At about 4.30 PM, Miss Chantelle came through to my office, telling me to make sure I left the office in a tidy state for the cleaner and, while I was about it, to do the same for her office. Needless to say, she supervised the whole process, not hesitating to point out my failings. Once I had finished tidying, we left for the usual Friday afternoon drink at the pub, where I bought my usual round of drinks for the girls. After one drink I made my excuses and wished everyone a good weekend, with Miss Chantelle smiling and saying, "See you later." I felt myself blush at that and hoped no one noticed.
Arriving home, Miss Susan was already dressed for going out in the leather dress and boots that had so drawn my eyes to her in the first place. She told me that my clothes for the evening were on the bed and that I should go and change. Hanging up my skirt suit, I sat to take off my stockings, putting them and my bra and suspender belt in the basket we kept for hand-washing. As I put on the dress she had laid out for me, I realised that I was really going to be very exposed. It was a sparkly silver, backless dress with a very low plunge at the front, really just a couple of straps going over my breasts, and extremely short, barely covering my arse cheeks. Sitting, I put on the strappy five-inch stilettos she had chosen for me; clearly, I was going to be on show this evening, particularly as my nipple rings were prominent under the dress!
Miss Susan smiled as I came through to the living room, "Very nice, Joanna, how was your day at the office?" After I had told her about my day, she nodded approvingly, saying that Miss Chantelle seemed to be doing an excellent job and that she was really looking forward to meeting her. As we descended in the lift, it stopped at the next floor down and my downstairs neighbours got in, not even blinking, and just wished us a pleasant evening; they must have become accustomed to us! I was definitely getting used to it, happily swinging my hips as we walked hand in hand to the club, ignoring the looks we got.
At the club, the other gay students were already there, seated at a table. As one of them, Cynthia, was just going to the bar to buy a round, Miss Susan sent me with her to carry the drinks. As she placed the order and the barmaid filled the tray for me, she asked me about our relationship and I told her about my need to have someone manage my life and the fact that Miss Susan was only nineteen made it even sweeter for me. After we returned to the table, I served the drinks and returned the tray to the bar. Shortly after I'd sat down, I saw Miss Chantelle entering. She looked absolutely stunning, with a tight white dress hugging her abundant curves and really setting off her coal-black skin. I stood to greet her and introduced her to Miss Susan and the other girls and, asking what she wanted to drink, I went to the bar to get it.
When I returned and gave Miss Chantelle her drink, there was very little space to sit, so I was squeezed in between the two of them as they continued their conversation. They were discussing me as though I was not there! Not that I minded that in the slightest; it only served to heighten my feelings of humiliation. As Miss Susan was telling Miss Chantelle that she had only had to cane me once so far, I accidentally knocked Miss Chantelle's arm, causing some of her drink to spill on her dress. She glared at me, telling Miss Susan that she thought that the second time might be deserved. Miss Susan said that I would be caned as soon as we get home, then paused for a moment, before saying, "She spilled your drink, Chantelle. You should be the one to punish her for it." Miss Chantelle asked Miss Susan if she was sure and, on being assured that it was perfectly fine, she agreed with alacrity.
As the girls talked, it became clear that, although Miss Susan had first called on me, Miss Chantelle was going to be involved and not just in the office. Taking me by the hand, she led me to the dance floor, where we spent about half an hour. During a slow dance, I felt her hands on my bare arse, so the back of my dress must have been pulled up; I wondered what people could see. I didn't have to wait long to find out as when we went to sit down again, Miss Susan said that black hands on my white arse looked good! As Miss Chantelle sat, she pulled me into her lap, an arm around me. Miss Susan showed us a couple of cards she had been given. It seemed that a local BDSM club had a monthly munch to which we'd been invited to see if we liked it. I had no idea what a munch was, but was sure I'd find out.
Miss Susan sent me home to make sure that the apartment was clean and tidy and the drinks ready for her and Miss Chantelle. I was naked on my hands and knees facing the door, twenty minutes later, when she and Miss Chantelle entered. The champagne was in the cooler on the coffee table, together with two glasses. Miss Susan commanded me to stand and pour their champagne while Miss Chantelle slapped me on the arse, saying it was about time I learned how to greet a black lady properly. She wriggled out of her dress, bra, and knickers, before kneeling on the sofa, presenting me with her magnificent bottom. "Get your face in there and French kiss my arsehole; you will be expected to do that every time we meet!"
Using my hands, I parted her cheeks and started to worship her puckered hole, breathing in a distinctive odour and getting an earthy taste on my tongue. Once I had completed the task to her satisfaction, she announced that she needed to pee. I knew I had been set up when Miss Susan told me to fetch a bath towel and spread it out on the floor. As I lay on my back on the towel with my mouth wide open, Miss Chantelle stepped over me, legs wide apart, my gaze drawn to the pinkness in the luxuriant bush. I was forced to blink it out of my eyes as she let go a solid stream, me swallowing as best I could. When she had finished, I had to sit up and lick her clean; then it was Miss Susan's turn, where I discovered that their pee tasted different as well. This was not something we had done before, but I was positive it would not be the last time.
I was directed to the dining table, where I had to pull one of the chairs out and bend over the back with my legs spread wide apart. As I bent and grasped the front legs in my hands, I knew I was fully displayed to them and that my cunt lips must be puffy and glistening. Miss Chantelle dipped a finger between them, calling me a dirty white slut for getting so aroused from worshipping her arse. I watched as she flexed the cane, before stepping behind me.
I felt her tap the cane on my arse, then heard the swish and crack as the pain exploded across my buttocks. Nothing I could do to prevent the shriek, but I retained enough presence of mind to hold tight and say, "One thank you, Miss Chantelle." That one had been far harder than Miss Susan's and I wondered whether or not I could take it. She was clearly experienced as she varied the gaps between the strokes so that I only knew when they were arriving from hearing the swish of the cane through the air. Somehow I managed to get through it as she gave me twelve strokes, by which time I was sobbing and the tears were streaming down my face.
When she finished, I was allowed to stand while she hugged me tight and Miss Susan unclipped my leash. I was still shaking and sobbing as she comforted me, telling me what a good girl I had been for taking my correction so well. Meanwhile, I felt Miss Susan's fingers pushing their way into my wetness, my clit throbbing. Why on earth was I so aroused when my arse was on fire? It didn't take long to make me cum, screaming with pleasure as Miss Chantelle held me up.
