I let Miss Alisa know that all had gone well and that I was pleased and hoped to see her again.
Two days later, my nerves strung out taut, I received a response.
“I am pleased that you both seem to have enjoyed it. I shall be sending a car to meet you at ten sharp. Make sure you are ready!”
And that was all she wrote.
I slept fitfully. I prepared myself carefully, and was waiting by the door when the car drew up. I went out and got in. The driver was silent, so I followed suite. We drew up outside a rather grand house. She opened the car door and I went to the front door, which opened as I arrived. A rather beautiful Indian woman showed me to the drawing room. Miss Alisa and Miss Belle were both seated, and the former indicated that I should come closer; as she did not indicate that I should sit, I stood.
“I have received a most satisfactory report from my life-partner, and one from you. But I have a question. First, however, I am pleased with your attitude Pixie. Now, do not get me wrong, but please know that a false answer to my question will be detected by me and result in the cancellation of any future contact, so answer me this. I have seen the way you gaze at my future wife, though you have been properly respectful, as befits you, my sixth sense says this is, for you now, more than role playing. Have you fallen in love with my Belle?”
I felt myself on the edge of the abyss. To admit the truth would be shameful: I had hardly spoken to Belle; she was engaged to be married to the woman asking the question. But to lie would be to lose her. It was plain to me that Miss Alisa was a most perceptive woman; I guessed that in her line of business it was an advantage. Plucking up my courage to the sticking point I answered:
“I can only admire the acuteness of your instincts Miss Alisa, and beg pardon from you both for my presumption; but yes, I admit it, I have fallen for Belle.”
Again they smiled at each other.
“I see,” said Miss Alisa.
From her tone and her look I could not tell her mood. I did not play poker, but if I ever did, I should not wish to be facing Miss Alisa.
“Well, Pixie, I have to say that my life-partner and I have discussed this, and I have reached the decision to allow you to be Emily to her Sansa, but there are conditions. I must tell you that they are not negotiable.”
I looked at her; she was firm.
“Please let me have them Miss Alisa.”
“The first is that should I allow you to be with my future wife sexually, you, Pixie, will keep yourself away from all others, with an exception I shall soon tell you. Do you agree?”
As my sex life usually consisted of my fingers and my vibrator, that seemed no hardship. After the weekend Belle and I had enjoyed, it was a price I would pay willingly.
“I agree.”
Miss Alisa smiled.
“In order to ensure that you keep your word you will, except on occasions of hygienic need, wear a leather chastity belt I shall provide. Belle and I will be your key holders. Is that acceptable?”
I blushed. I realised how insightful she was. I would need, I was sure, to play with myself, but if not doing so was a price to pay, I should pay it.
“I agree Miss.”
“Good girl. Now I mentioned an exception and here it is. The Agency is our life and you, if you are becoming even a small part of it, must become a lesbian escort. Is that acceptable. Of course when on duty Belle or I will remove your belt.”
I gasped. She wanted me to become a prostitute. No, no, I steadied myself, escorts were different, and if Belle could do it, I should be proud to.
“It is acceptable Miss, but my job makes its demands.”
“Good girl. My third condition will obviate that. You are to give your post up as soon as you can.”
I was startled, but oddly, I had been wondering whether I should accept the voluntary severance deals on offer at the university. I could afford to go, and if it saved someone who could not, it would be a good deed.
“I shall do so with haste, Miss Alias.”
Ah, I thought, that one had surprised her.
“I see, well, see you do. Now to my fourth condition. You will need to live with us in the house, so you will arrange to let out your town house.”
My goodness, I thought, this woman was decisive. No wonder Belle adored her; how could she not?
“I shall be in touch with an agent tomorrow first thing Miss.”
“Good girl. My fifth is that as you are to live in our house, your new post should be as Belle’s personal servant attending to all her needs. For that you will be attired normally in the same sari as the other servants. Is that acceptable?”
By this stage I doubted there was anything more she could have demanded, and if there was, I was sure I would agree to it.
“It is Miss.”
“Good girl. Well should you abide by these, you have my permission. Oh, and as you have been so honest, there is a reward.”
Belle looked puzzled.
“Yes, dear Belle, my young niece, Indira, was going to be our flower girl at the wedding, but she cannot now make it. We have the dress, and as she was fourteen, it should fit Pixie well, she has a similarly undeveloped figure. Pixie, you can be our flower girl.”
“Thank you, Miss.,”
And that was that. Miss Alisa smiled and left me with Belle.
“Are you sure, Pixie? I am concerned by the conditions, but we both understand her rationale.”
“I do Belle, and for you, I shall do it.”
“For US, Pixie, remember, it is for us.”
And so it was.
It took me a few days, but I arranged voluntary severance at the university (to the delight of the HR department who were able to say to the Vice Chancellor that I would be the first of many), in return for a suitable sum of compensation. The Agent found no trouble letting the house, and so by the Friday I was able to inform Miss Alisa that things were in train, and I was ready.
On the Monday morning a car was sent to pick me up. As it car arrived at the big house, I felt some trepidation. I did not know what would happen, just I wanted this more than I had wanted anything or anyone. I was let in by a pretty Indian woman in a sari and shown to a room where Belle was sitting. Oh she was even more beautiful than ever!
She invited me to stand before her and asked whether I was still determined to do it?
“Yes Miss Sansa. I have arranged with agents to let my house, and have resigned my post. I am at your disposal and agree to all the wise conditions set for me.”
She smiled.
“Just so you are aware, Emily, six new Indian lesbian couples will be starting with you.”
“Yes Miss Sansa,” I replied, wondering what that might portend.
“You will live in the servants quarters, of course,” Belle said, smiling.
At this first sign of the reduction in my status, I felt a blush come to my cheeks. Here I was, a wealthy and independent professional woman volunteering to become a servant. But one look into her eyes and I nodded.
“Yes Miss Sansa, a wise course of action if I might say so.”
“Of course as my personal servant, in India my bearer, you answer to me, no one else is to give you orders, unless I allow it.”
Thankful for that, I smiled and said:
“Thank you, Miss, I appreciate that privilege and will strive to be worthy of it.”
Belle smiled back:
“You can be sure that you will.”
“You know my desires, my Miss Sansa, your Emily is here for you, and I accept that you and Miss Alisa are life partners, and I shall fit in as you direct.”
The air between us fizzed with erotic tension.
At that moment, Miss Alisa walked in with a large package and a smile to match. I blushed nervously, but stood to attention as I want to impress.
Alisa looked at me with a smile of condescension and said:
“Welcome to our employment girl, you are one of 7 servants starting with us today.”
That put me in my place. I responded accordingly.
“Thank you, Miss Alisa, I am most grateful”
“There are but two differences: the first is that you will be allowed to sleep and play with MY future wife when we allow you; the second is that you will be the only one permitted to wear the family chastity belt.”
“Yes Miss Alisa, thank you for the privilege.”
“Be sure you do not abuse the privilege, girl!” Her tone of voice was firm.
“Yes Miss Alisa” I replied, stunned by the way the use of that single word reduced my status; it also made me damp.
“Belle darling, please take out the belt and fit it to your bearer,” Miss Alisa said.
“Girl, you can get undressed while Belle prepares your belt.”
“Yes Miss Alisa” I said, realising that her words would soon be seen to have had a practical effect on my knickers.
I carefully took off my jacket, folded it and place it on the chair. Unzipping my skirt next, I stood in my blouse, white knickers, stockings, and suspenders, placing my shoes also to one side.
I blushed as I saw Belle holding the belt up in awe, the secure metal parts shining in the light. She smiled at me, knowingly.
I carefully undid my blouse, exposing my small titlets, their nipples hard. I next pulled my knickers down, conscious of the strands of my essence sticking to them as I lowered them. Looking at the belt and Miss Alisa and Miss Sansa, I unclipped my stockings, rolled them down and off, and then, carefully discarded my suspender belt. I stood naked before them, overwhelmed by the sensation of being nude in from of two full-clothed women.
“Your ear studs, necklace and rings must also be removed, girl. Belle, you may mark your bearer with the belt.”
As Miss Alisa kissed her, I felt myself get wetter, and Belle became my Sansa.
I opened my legs to help Miss Sansa, and she held it for me to get into. Conscious of my scent and the state of my pussy, I wanted to rub it, but I did as I was told. As she eased it up and patted into position, I whimpered a little. Was it me or did Miss Sansa look sad as her Emily’s treasure was hidden?
“Is that comfortable?” my Sansa asked.
Blushing at the closeness and my own desires, I controlled myself and squeaked:
“Yes miss.”
I was a gooey hot mess down there, and became more so as, holding the belt in position, she turned the key locking the belt. Removing it, she gave the key to Miss Alisa and check that the second key works correctly. As she touched me there, I blushed.
“The girl is smitten Belle. Girl, you seem to be very wet, you had better keep a cloth handy just in case, any spillages will have to be cleaned up, with your mouth.”
” Yes Miss, sorry Miss,” I blushed.
“Now one of our trusted family of lesbian escorts will dress you for your new life, girl.”
She looked at me with meaning. “This IS your new life, girl, it is not role play.”
I thanked her. She left, after kissing her Belle. My Sansa smiled as she left, and she tied her key to the belt onto a satin ribbon which she wore like a necklace.
“You are happy, my Emily?”
“I am, Miss Sansa.”
As I looked adoringly at the beautiful woman I so wanted to serve, happy that she had the key to my treasure because it, like me, belongs to her alone, I nodded.
An attractive woman introduced to me as Piti came into the room, smiling with a sari outfit; she did not mention the belt.
`Piti was very professional and did not comment on my state, though she must, I knew, have been able to smell my scent.
“Piti will dress you, pay attention.”
“Yes Miss.”
To my horror, the first thing Piti did was to produce some big thick knickers to cover the belt. They were not anything I would ever have worn in my old life, but as she pulled up the big knickers, I felt a sigh of relief at being covered there. I could not help noticing, as she bent, that her breasts were even fuller than my Sansa’s.
“This girl needs no bra, Miss Belle.”
“I agree, dear Piti, even by the standards of some western women, she has nothing there. Titlets, would you not say, Piti?”
She smiled and patted me there.
“A good name for them. I shall put her straight into the choli blouse.”
As she fitted me into it and buttoned it up, I thought it rather nice, red, and gold threads. Much better than my old blouse. I just hoped it would not show my nipples too much.
Next came a red petticoat, which concealed my big knickers and left my midriff bare.
I stepped into the rather pretty petticoat. I was so liking my new outfit, it seemed somehow much more feminine. Piti pulled the petticoat up and tightened the strings around my waist so the weight of the sari would not pull it down. She tied a double bow to lock the strings and tucked the ends inside the petticoat.
I felt a warmth come over me. It all felt so right.
Piti then opened the sari and checked the length.
“This one, Miss Belle, is for a younger girl, but the size of this girl demands that. Even so, it hands just clear of the floor.”
“That is good, my dear Piti, it is why we bought that size, it was meant for the flower girl at our wedding, but as she cannot make it, we can recycle in on Emily here.”
“Now Emily, you will kindly pay much attention to what I do next.”
“Yes Miss Piti, I shall do so.”
My Sansa, her Miss Belle, replied:
“We’ll done Pixie, Piti is one of six Indian ladies that I consider my family. It is good that you show them the proper respect.”
“Thank you, Miss Sansa, I shall endeavour always to show our family the respect they deserve.”
She smiled.
Miss Piti took a corner of the cloth, so the patterned edge was to the floor, the top to the top of the petticoat so that the trailing end it was to my right.
“This is most important,” she said, “because the end part, Palau, goes over your left shoulder to hang down your back.”
“Thank you, Miss Piti, you explain it so well. I hope until I get proficient with it you will help me?”
She said she would, but Belle who had been pondering, spoke:
“Remember your position Emily, you are my servant and not a member of the family.”
“Yes Miss Sansa, sorry Miss. I will learn my place. I apologise humbly to you and to Miss Piti. I shall of course accept any correction necessary to reinforce that lesson.”
“She seems a good girl, Miss Belle. So she sees you as her Sansa?”
Belle confirmed that.
Then taking a large safety pin, Miss Piti secured the folds together to the top of the petticoat tickling the ends in under the strings, winding the trailing part completely around her and on the second pass started to move it up my body. The she passed the trailing end under my arm, across my chest and over my left shoulder.
“The free end is called the Pallu and is often used as a head covering instead of a decorative drape,” Miss Piti told me.
“Thank you, Miss Piti.”
Finally Piti handed me a pair of flat shoes with material uppers, which, as I put them on, I realised would not, like western shoes, add to my height.
“You look adorable, my Emily. Now a small correction. To be especially respectful, you may call family members ‘Memsahib’ pronounced memsarb. To greet or return a greeting, put your hands together as if praying, say Namaste and bow (pronounced Na mass Tay).”
“Thank you, Memsahib Sansa, and you Memsahib Piti.”
My Sansa giggled:
“Actually the name comes first, then memsahib.”
“Thank you, Sansa Memsahib, and you Memsahib Piti.”
Then, putting my hands together I bowed said
“Namaste.”
I looked at her with love. I saw that same love reflected back at me, and it seemed that it grew exponentially.
“So you are now, my Sansa in every way. It seems to me my love and wife that I should do something to mark our union.”
“There is no need my love, my wife, I see the love light in your eyes. But I know you wish to please me, indeed us, and I delight in the prodigality of your imagining. What would you do?”
I smiled.
“In former times, and still now in places, when a woman marries, she takes her husband’s surname. Well we are both wives, but how would it be, MY Sansa if I changed my first name – to Emily?”
“You are so ingenious, my Pixie, and I should be delighted were you to become my Emily.”
“I am pleased,” I smiled as we kissed, “as I have begun the process.”
And so it was that I became her Emily, and she became my Sansa.