All Change for Amy

Later, after the bath, her skin pink and clean, Amy was given a simple, shapeless grey dress to wear and a pair of soft, sensible pumps. The transformation was complete. The fetishistic slut was gone, replaced by a subdued, quiet woman. They sat in the kitchen, Amy sipping a glass of water, her body exhausted but her mind strangely clear.

"There's just the matter of the coat to attend to before you leave," Geraldine said, her tone once again cool and businesslike.

Amy's heart sank. She knew what was coming. She stood up without a word and walked to the large wooden table, bending over it and placing her palms on the surface, presenting herself. This time, she wasn't wearing the rubber dress, just the thin cotton of the new grey dress and her bare skin underneath. Geraldine walked behind her and unbuckled the belt around her waist. The crack of the leather echoed around the kitchen, a sharp, clean sound that was followed by Amy's choked count.

"One. Thank you, Mistress."

"Two. Thank you, Mistress."

The five strokes were delivered with precision, each one a line of fire across her buttocks. When it was over, she was dismissed. "As soon as you get home, you are to redo your hair and makeup. You will be ready for a call at any time," Geraldine instructed.

The drive home was a daze. Her backside was throbbing, a constant, stinging reminder of her transgression. She let herself into the silent house, the clock in the hall showing it was just after three. She had two hours before Jack would be home. She went straight upstairs, her movements stiff, and stood before the mirror in the bathroom. The woman who stared back was pale, her eyes wide and dark. She looked haunted, but beneath the exhaustion, there was a new light, a new certainty.

She took out the makeup from the holdall Geraldine had given her, the expensive products she now knew how to use. She sat down and began to redo her face, her hands steady. She applied the foundation, the mascara, the dark, sensual lipstick. She brushed out her hair, restyling it into the sophisticated waves the salon had created. She was no longer just preparing for a possible call; she was preparing for her new life. She was becoming the woman in the mirror, the woman Geraldine was forging. When she was finished, she looked at her reflection. She was ready.