Leslie and Vi - Part Two
By Leslie McCormick
A female bodybuilder meets an ardent fan

Note:  This is a work of fiction.  Any similarities between actual 
persons, living or dead are strictly coincidental. 


  Vi called for me at the hotel at seven p.m. on Friday.  I was so happy 
to see her.  We hugged and kissed, and then she held me out at arm's 
length and surveyed what I was wearing.  Like I had on Wednesday, I was 
dressed in a conservative business suit.  Vi, on the other hand, was 
not. 
  She wore her hair clipped up on the top of her head, and she'd applied 
makeup to make her eyes and mouth look provocative.  An emerald green 
Spandex tube top that showed an impressive amount of cleavage hugged her 
torso.  A matching set of footless tights covered her legs.  She wore 
backless, open-toed shoes.  The color of her toenails matched the 
brilliant red on her lips.  A short, leopard-skin jacket was thrown over 
her shoulders.  She looked unbelievably sexy and hot. 
  "It's our night to party," Vi said.  "Do you have anything to wear 
that's a little wild?  I want to show you off." 
  My heart skipped a beat.  In addition to my submissive nature, I'm an 
exhibitionist.  My body is my best feature, and I love putting it on the 
display, the more provocatively, the better. 
  I pulled out a variety of outfits, and laid them on the bed.  Vi 
surveyed them critically, and then pointed to the items she wanted me to 
wear.  I stripped to my underwear, preparatory to changing, but Vi said 
that she wanted me bare under the clothes.  I removed bra and panties, 
and tossed them aside. 
  The blouse was long-sleeved, black and diaphanous, with no buttons.  
Instead, it was held together at the front with a drawstring.  It was 
slightly too small for my frame, so that no matter how tightly I pulled 
the drawstring, it still failed to cover the sides of my boobs.  They 
bulged from the blouse like snow-covered mountain peaks.  The skirt she 
selected was indecently short.  The hem fell just below my crotch, and I 
knew that if I bent or sat, my ass and pussy would be fully exposed.  
Just the thought was enough to make my pussy wet with anticipation.  The 
shoes were sling-backed stiletto heels that added three inches to my 
height.  I wanted to drape a jacket over my shoulders, but Vi forbade 
it.  She wanted me on full display.  After dressing, I examined my 
reflection in the full-length mirror.  I looked like a street walker.  
My stomach fluttered with excitement. 
  "A couple of final details," Vi said.  She opened her purse, and took 
out a studded leather collar.  She fastened it about my neck, drawing it 
tight around my throat.  It was wide and thick, and recalled the slave 
collar that my former mistress had always made me wear.  Kneeling, Vi 
slipped rings onto the second toes of my feet. 
  "Better," she said, looking at me.  She pulled a final item from the 
purse.  It was a string of beads strung together on a knotted string 
that terminated in a small pull ring.  They were anal beads. 
  I looked at Vi, and then, without being told what to do, knelt on the 
floor, with my head cushioned on my crossed arms.  My skirt rose up, 
exposing my ass and pussy. 
  "Do you need lubricant?" Vi asked. 
  "No, mistress." 
  She moved around behind me, and inserted the beads slowly, one at a 
time, into my receptive and elastic asshole.  I closed my eyes, and 
concentrated on relaxing.  There were six beads in all, and when they 
had all been stuffed into my ass, I felt a heaviness inside me that 
excited and stimulated me. 
  "Roll over onto your back," Vi ordered. 
  I did what she said.  She held up two medium-sized brass balls.  
"These are Ben-WA balls," she said.  "They go inside you.  Don't let 
them fall out until I tell you it's okay." 
  "Yes, mistress," I answered. 
  After inserting the balls into my pussy, Vi told me to stand up, and 
walk around the room.  The sensations that raced through my nether 
regions were the most intense I'd ever experienced.  The Ben-WA balls in 
my cunt rolled and struck against the walls of my cunt, and against each 
other.  Every time they did, it stimulated the nerve endings, and sent 
waves of pleasure radiating out into my body. 
  The anal beads were equally stimulating, and the feel of the pull ring 
dangling between my ass cheeks added to the eroticism.  Vi told me that 
the ring was visible below the hem of my skirt, but I didn't care about 
that.  All I cared about was how good the toys made me feel. 
  "Make me a drink," Vi ordered.  I was pleased that she felt so 
comfortable in the dominant role.  Obviously, she wanted to live her 
fantasy to its fullest, and knew that she had a willing and submissive 
partner. 
  "I've been doing some research," Vi said, sitting on the couch and 
crossing her legs.  "There are quite a few interesting clubs in the 
city.  I called around, and most of them are for members only, but there 
is one that is open to anyone." 
  I sat beside Vi, and said nothing. 
  "I want to explore this fantasy, Leslie," Vi said, shifting to look at 
me.  "I've been thinking about since Wednesday night, and just the 
thought of it makes my knees weak.  But what I have to know is how far 
do you want to go with this?" 
  Vi and I were new to each other.  She didn't know my past experience, 
nor did she know my limitations.  I was grateful that she was 
considerate enough of my feelings to solicit my opinion.  It would have 
been easy to indulge herself at my expense.  I knew for a certainty then 
that Vi had a good and kind heart.  I reached out and captured her hand 
in mine. 
  "I'll do whatever you want," I said to her.  "If I want you to stop, 
I'll say the word, `Mercy'.  That'll be our signal.  When I say that, 
you have to promise to stop whatever's going on." 
  Vi nodded understanding.  "I promise.  And, Leslie, thank you.  You 
don't have any idea how much I've always wanted to do this." 
  "Are we going to dinner first?" I asked.  "I'm starving." 
  "We may have trouble getting into some of the better restaurants they 
way we're dressed, but yes, we're going to have dinner.  I'm famished 
myself." 
  It was late September, but the weather was still balmy.  It'd been hot 
all day, and the heat lingered in the streets of the city.  Vi had a 
rental car, and we drove to a fancy restaurant located on Lake Shore 
Drive.  When Vi and I alighted from the car, the valet's eyes nearly 
popped out of his head.  He was so flustered by the sight of us that he 
forgot to collect the parking fee.  Laughing, we went inside. 
  The maitre `d gave us a hard time at first, but Vi, immersed in her 
dominant role, gave him such a tongue-lashing that he quickly 
acquiesced, and showed us to the best table in the place.  It was set 
near the glass-fronted window that overlooked Lake Superior.  As we 
walked through, whispered murmurs trailed in our wake. 
  "I think we've made quite an impression," Vi said when we were seated.  
Her face was flushed, and her eyes were bright with merriment. 
  "You look beautiful, mistress," I said truthfully. 
  "Thank you, Leslie.  So do you."  She leaned across the table.  
"Wearing this outfit makes me feel like I'm walking around naked," she 
whispered.  "It's got me all wet." 
  I smiled knowingly.  Vi, like me, had exhibitionistic tendencies.  I'd 
suspected as much when she came to my hotel room dressed so 
provocatively.  Even if they have the body to support it, not every 
woman could wear an outfit like Vi had on.  It took a person who knew 
that she was the object of lustful attention, and enjoyed it. 
  There was no way to keep my skirt down to a decent level, so I didn't 
bother to try.  The overhanging tablecloth partly hid my crotch, but it 
did nothing to conceal the long length of my legs.  Across the room, an 
elderly gentleman stared at me with obvious lust.  His wife, annoyed by 
the lack of attention he was paying to her, turned to glare angrily at 
me.  I responded by lifting the hem of my skirt, and flashing my pussy 
at her.  Both Vi and I laughed at the horrified look on her face.  They 
left soon after. 
  Vi did most of the talking.  I was content to listen to her.  Her 
voice was soft and sultry, and her accent was pleasing to my ear.  I 
could have listened to her all night long.  She told me about her life 
in England.  Vi wasn't married, but lived with a man in a two-bedroom 
flat in Kensington.  They'd known each other for several years, and 
while their relationship was satisfactory, it wasn't exciting.  It 
plodded along, day-to-day, with no peaks or valleys.  To stave off 
perpetual boredom, she started writing.  Personal anecdotes in a private 
journal at first, and then more ambitious works, until she finally 
worked up the courage to pen a full-fledged story.  Vi found that the 
exercise was energizing. 
  In the fictional world she created, Vi could indulge her most secret 
fantasies without fear of consequence or reprisals. 
  "I'd like to read one of your stories," I said. 
  Vi winked.  "I've got a better idea.  How about if we live one of them 
tonight?" 
  The thought thrilled me.  I squirmed in my chair. 
  We lingered over coffee and after-dinner drinks.  Vi plied me with 
questions about my life, especially about being a former bodybuilding 
competitor.  I answered the questions truthfully, wanting to hide 
nothing. 
  "Is it true that most of the women are on steroids?" she asked. 
  "Yes.  I've used them myself.  It's the only way to reach the top 
echelons." 
  "But I heard that too much muscle is bad." 
  I sighed.  "The sport is so hypocritical.  They want you to have 
muscle, but they're afraid of losing their fan base, so they pressure 
the women to have breast implants, and to wear really skimpy posing 
suits.  Have you seen the thong suits?  Why do you think so many women 
wear them?  It's not because they WANT to show off their asses.  It's 
because the judges demand it.  If you don't go along, they penalize you 
by marking down your score." 
  "Is that why you quit?" 
  "Yes.  Now I train only for myself.  I'm much happier that way." 
  We talked a while longer, and then Vi said we should be leaving.  The 
club she'd selected opened late, and stayed open even later.  Chicago 
bars don't close until four a.m.  Even though this was a private club, 
it had to close at four because it had a liquor license.  Vi told me 
that the patrons weren't forced to leave, though. 
  "They close the doors so no one else can come in, but we're free to 
stay as long as we like," she explained. 
  "Remember that I have to be at the auditorium by nine o'clock tomorrow 
morning." 
  "Don't worry, love.  I'll get you to the church on time." 
  We drove down darkened streets through the city's commercial sections 
until we came to a broad, lamp-lit avenue.  Signs on the tightly packed 
buildings told me that this was where much of the city's food and 
produce was received.  I was surprised at that.  I asked Vi about it. 
  "Privacy," she said, pronouncing it in the English manner.  "No 
intruding neighbors, love." 
  We parked and got out.  Vi had a leash that she attached to the front 
of my slave collar.  She led me to a nondescript building with no 
outward markings.  A heavily-muscled, barechested man in red Spandex 
tights admitted us.  He and Vi conversed in low tones while I waited 
nearby.  Money exchanged hands, and then he unlocked an interior door, 
and let us pass through. 
  I'd heard a lot about Plato's Retreat in New York City.  Though I'd 
never visited there, I imagined that it looked a great deal like the 
place we now entered. 
  The interior was partitioned into several rooms.  Some, like the one 
in which we now stood, were gathering areas.  Easy chairs and sofas were 
scattered among low-standing coffee tables and hassocks.  A full-service 
bar was set up along the far wall.  Draperies hung on the walls.  Rich 
Oriental rugs covered the raised hardwood floor. 
  We found an open sofa, and sat down.  Presently, a waitress came by to 
take our drink orders.  She was a petite brunette with thick eyebrows, 
and a prominent mouth.  She was bare-breasted, but wore a frilly black 
skirt with a contrasting white apron.  Her legs were covered by fishnet 
stockings.  I couldn't help noticing what small, dainty feet she had.  
They looked too small to support her frame.  She wore medium-sized wedge 
heels made out of transparent Acrylic that made it look as though she 
was tiptoeing on air. 
  "Do you like her, love?" Vi asked.  "I saw how you were looking at 
her." 
  "She's very attractive, mistress." 
  "Too small for my tastes, but maybe we can entice her to have a drink 
with us." 
  I looked around the room.  There weren't many guests, and the ones in 
attendance were doing nothing more than sitting around, drinking, and 
listening to the jazz music that was being piped in.  They were dressed 
in conventional clothing.  I was mildly disappointed.  From Vi's 
description of the place, I expected a lot more. 
  Vi propositioned the waitress but was told the rules forbade employee 
fraternization with guests. 
  "That's a shame, love.  My friend here fancies you." 
  The waitress glanced around.  She scribbled something on a scrap of 
paper, and handed it to Vi with the change. 
  "That's my number," she said, glancing in my direction.  "I'm not 
working tomorrow night." 
  "We'll be sure to look you up, love," Vi said, and put the paper into 
her purse.  "I'd heard this was a wild place.  But it seems I heard 
wrong." 
  The waitress smiled.  "Each room has its own theme," she explained.  
"This one is for drinking and talking only.  You should stroll around.  
I think you'll be pleasantly surprised." 
  "Thanks, love," Vi said, and put a five dollar bill onto the drink 
tray. 
  "What's your name," I asked before she turned away. 
  "Mia," she said, and offered me a smile that carried more than a hint 
of promise. 
  Without further hesitation, Vi got to her feet, and tugged impatiently 
on my leash.  I rose as well and followed her.  Trailing in her wake, I 
couldn't keep my eyes off of her sweet little ass.  It looked so 
fetching in the green tights she wore.  As she walked, every contraction 
and relaxation of the entire muscle girdle from the small of her back to 
the calves was highlighted.  Impulsively, I reached out and grabbed a 
handful of her buttocks.  Vi wasn't expecting my touch, and squealed in 
surprise. 
  "That was very naughty of you," she said.  With a devilish glint in 
her eye, she drew back her hand, and smacked me solidly on the rump.  
The stinging pain felt marvelous.  It made the beads in my ass and pussy 
vibrate, and sent waves of pleasure through me. 
  We came to a large, dimly-lit room.  It took several minutes for my 
eyes to accustom themselves to the lighting, but when they did, I drew 
in an astonished breath.  I heard Vi do the same. 
  Everywhere we looked, bound and gagged slaves were on display.  The 
sight of one of these slaves would have been enough to stagger the 
senses.  There were at least dozen in this room, and they were all bound 
in creative and imaginative ways.  Just looking at them was enough to 
take my breath away. 
  One woman wore a head mask with attached blindfold.  A hole at the top 
allowed her hair to be pulled through, and tied with rope to a hook in 
the overhead.  She was pierced through her septum, tongue, nipples, and 
clitoris.  A form-fitting torso suit was strapped around her which 
pulled her arms together at the back.  A chain ran from her cuffed 
wrists to a ceiling beam.  Other chains ran from the rings in her nose, 
tongue, nipples and clitoris to hand-cranked winches.  As we watched, 
her master slowly tightened first one crank, then another.  The slave's 
nipples stretched painfully outward until I thought they would be ripped 
from her tits. 
  "Doesn't it hurt?" Vi asked, more to herself than to anyone in 
particular.  The master heard her though, and turned in our direction. 
  "Yes, and that's the point," he said.  He looked the two of us over.  
Casually, he extended a riding crop to Vi.  "Would you care to cane her 
bottom?" 
  When Vi hesitated, the master thrust the crop into her hand.  "Trust 
me, she'll love it." 
  Vi had never done anything like this before.  Her first few strokes 
were mild and tentative.  The slave barely moved. 
  "Put your back into it," the master said.  "Give it to her." 
  Vi glanced at me.  I nodded my head encouragingly.  It'd be good 
experience for her.  When it came my turn to be caned, I wanted her to 
feel comfortable in the role. 
  The next blow was stronger.  The cane whistled through the air, and 
landed across the slave's backside with enough force to cause her to 
shimmy in her bonds.  An inarticulate moan of pleasure escaped her 
mouth.  Watching Vi's face, I saw a familiar look pass over it.  She was 
beginning to enjoy her domination of this bound and helpless female. 
  "Cane her tits," the master said after Vi had given ten strokes to her 
bottom. 
  The slave had enormous breasts.  I thought they were the result of 
augmentation surgery, but I soon discovered they were natural.  When Vi 
caned them, they jiggled and danced and swayed like twin bowls of Jell-
O.  The slave was yelling loudly now, and she moved as much as she was 
able, given the restrictions of her bonds. 
  After ten strokes on her breasts, Vi stopped, and handed the cane back 
to the master.  Her face and neck were flushed, and her eyes sparkled. 
She thanked the master, and then took hold of my leash and led me away.  
She tugged my leash hard, bringing my head down sharply.  Between her 
parted lips, her teeth gleamed whitely. 
  "My God," she hissed into my ear.  "That felt bloody marvelous.  I've 
never been so excited.  Hear, love, feel my twat." 
  Vi grabbed my hand and thrust it between her legs.  Even through the 
material of her tights, I could feel how hot and wet her pussy was.  For 
some silly reason, I was jealous that that slave had made Vi so 
incredibly hot.  I wanted her to feel that way about me.  After all, it 
was I who had suggested she live out her fantasy. 
  "Look at that," Vi said, pointing. 
  At the far end of the room, a woman hung upside-down from her knees on 
a suspended bar.  Her legs were tied to the bar with rope that ran down 
her back, and also encircled her arms and wrists.  Thin silver chains 
ran through the twin rings piercing her labia, and then stretched from 
there to a hook in the ceiling.  Weighted clamps pinched her nipples.  A 
ball gag was stuffed into her mouth.  She had long, blonde hair, and it 
hung down, nearly touching the floor.  Her tits were so small as to be 
virtually non-existent.  Her mistress, a voluptuous woman in a leather 
outfit was dripping wax onto the suspended woman's shaven vagina. 
  "I think we've hit the bloody jackpot, love," Vi said.  "I wonder if 
that woman will let me have a go at her little pet." 
  "Vi." 
  "What, love?" she asked in a distracted way. 
  "Why don't you indulge yourself with your little pet?" 
  Vi looked at me as though the thought had never occurred to her.  "Are 
you sure?" 
  I smiled and imitated her clipped British accent.  "Quite." 
  "Right.  Then let's give it a go." 


End of Part Two