The House of Fiorella

Moments away from Piazza del Duomo and Teatro alla Scala on the Via Montenapoleone, you would be forgiven for passing without notice the carved blackwood doors situated in between Prada and Hermes. Little known to the passing fashionistas, behind these doors is the world’s most exclusive emporium – The House of Fiorella.

Entrance is by invitation and appointment and only then, after recommendation by at least two of her existing clients. Fiorella doesn’t advertise and knowledge of her emporium is exchanged only by word of mouth through her clientele in hushed, excited whispers when they receive their RSVP to her latest showing. The pleasure of the clients begins when they receive these thick inlaid cream cards, scented with rose damask, indigo ink and copperplate calligraphy. Even her stationery is indicative of the pleasure and indulgence hidden behind those secretive doors.

Resplendent in her tightly fitted, black silk Kiton suit, discreet jewellery, shining ebony waterfall of hair and immaculate handmade high heels, Fiorella herself is the epitome of the very luxury she purveys – perfect, tailor-made, bespoke slaves for women from the highest echelons of society.

Fiorella used to attend faux slave auctions in her younger days – surrounded by the whoops and catcalls of the crowd, always feeling out of place in the sweaty club environment and frustrated that the auctions only scratched the surface of her own desires.

She moved into more secretive circles where slaves were physically altered to provide pleasure – dosing with Viagra to provide permanent erections, prostate milking to prevent ejaculation, steroids injected into tongues to enable elongated periods of oral sex – the artificiality of this scene grated on her innate sense of self. Genuine ownership, genuine dominance and submission had no place in this grubby environment. Money and gratitude are power, and Fiorella realized that the ultimate power was in the hands of those who could set the price without question, get paid and loved for it, not only by the customer, but by the object for sale too.

Her travels had brought her into contact with many men who could and wanted to fulfill the desires and pleasures of women without additional additives such as drugs or fear, but how to make the most of these men? They desired objectification, but had no way of bringing their desires into reality. Fiorella decided to meld her desire for power and sensuality with those of these men and create her own niche market – The House of Fiorella - the ultimate display of female indulgence.

Every element here was designed to give women an experience of a lifetime.

Being welcomed through the doors by her personal slave, Slave A – the only slave allowed to be dressed within these hallowed walls and then only for when clients were visiting - Fiorella liked to keep Slave A’s body for her eyes only, the client would find herself standing on the thick, plush carpet of a long corridor lined with mirrors, fragranced by the crystal vases of freesias, lilies, jasmine and roses, and handed a flute of perfectly chilled champagne. The plush carpet covering the floor had a duel purpose – one, to allow the clients to walk in utter comfort, the other, so the slaves could move without making a noise, bar the tiny tinkle of their gold anklet, the symbol of being Fiorella’s property.

Sitting along the corridor, often clutching handbags and shopping were the client’s husbands. Cuckolds all. Their wives - the clients - having never been told that they can’t have ‘that’, didn’t intend to start now, and the husband’s would shift uncomfortably in their seats, knowing that their only status in life was as a walking wallet, which ordinarily they would have been perfectly happy with, but alongside their fellow cucks, they exuded embarrassment and fear, as should they lookup, they might find themselves looking into the eyes of one of their peers.

The client, led by the hand of the stunning specimen known as Slave A, would be shown to the main floor of the emporium and shown to one of three chaise lounges, to be greeted by Fiorella personally and discuss the requirements each client needed meeting by a purchase from the emporium.

Immediately Slave B would appear silently and kneel at the foot of the chaise lounge, holding a crystal bonbonniere, then Slave C would approach, bow deeply and ensure that the client’s glass was kept full.

Scanning the room, the client would take in the view.- 10 of Fiorella’s best and newly qualified slaves, standing on mirrored podiums and secured in place by a pole or chain from the ceiling, revolving slowly, so all angles of their physiques could be examined. Each had a tag attached with red ribbon to their wrists, stating their vital statistics, training, abilities and history. Fiorella insisted that all her slaves had excellent pedigrees, to ensure an ideal match to her clientele and had each scrutinized and trained by hand. Referring to them laughingly as her stud stable as she took most seriously their entire physical and mental presentation and well-being as would a champion racehorse breeder.

Prices were not a feature on the slave’s tags -if you had to ask, you couldn’t afford them and the slave was to given no knowledge as to their value.

Knowing that Fiorella had trained the slaves herself, her recommendations would often be asked for by her clients, where in front of the slaves Fiorella discussed the slaves worthwhile attributes, potential shortcomings and gave the client the opportunity to trial the slave in these areas.

For oral skills, an area was set aside with a large comfortable chair and strangely a curtain across the middle. The client would sit back amongst the raw silk covered cushions and her top half would be hidden from view as would that of the slave who would be removed from their stand and positioned to perform between their thighs. This blind testing would ensure that the client could focus on the skills of the slave and not on their pretty face, which might lead to minor disillusionment – something that must never be allowed. These slaves were simply tongues; skillful ones yes, but tongues all the same, nothing more.

For massage, there was a warm dark room, scented with oils where the client could relax and focus on the pleasure giving hands of a slave who focused on feet or perhaps shoulders. More often than not, the client would select two or more slaves for this trial room – after all, she was in Fiorella’s! She was more than entitled to make the most of the situation and the combination of massage, warmth and oils ensured that she could indulge her more sexual side and order the massage slaves to play with each other for her viewing pleasure, whilst she propped her feet onto one of the furniture slaves.

Ah! The furniture slaves! A most esoteric corner of Fiorella’s emporium – men positioned into chairs, tables, candelabras, coat stands, footstools and for the more decorative minded mistress - sculptures.

Slaves for cooking and serving didn’t feature in The House of Fiorella. Those were domestic roles and not in keeping with the luxury expected of her clients. They all had domestics, to have someone wait on you, clean after you and cook your meals was nothing new and certainly not exotic enough to warrant wasting a slave on.

After the trial sessions with various slaves, Fiorella and the client would adjourn to her office to discuss the price over espresso, where in her signature indigo ink, Fiorella would write the amount on the clients invitation, then hand back to them. The idea of haggling was unthinkable in this environment, and the client would read the card and nod smiling. With a click of her fingers, Fiorella would summon Slave A and instruct him to fetch the client’s cuckold’s wallet to seal the transaction. Once completed, arrangements could be made for shipping the bought slave or slaves to wherever in the world the client requested.

No guarantees or refunds would ever be referred to as they were unnecessary when it came to shopping at Fiorella’s for slaves. There was no such thing as a dissatisfied client and no place for a dissatisfied slave. Chattel knows it is chattel and there would never be any misunderstanding or second thoughts by the time Fiorella decided to sell.

The Receptacle

Welcome to The Receptacle boys and girls. This clean, white, warm and most importantly waterproof room will be your home for this weekend.

We're running a very special event for extraordinary Ladies and this will be the centre piece - this pristine room, this convenience.

Once you've stripped, I'll place the white collar around your neck for the duration.

This collar will identify you as available for use within the confines of this room.

Your purpose here is to be an open void - your mouth and your arse.

No talking. No questions. Conveniences don't talk. You have agreed to come here, you have signed the necessary paperwork. The subject is closed.

Boys - You will be forceably masturbated until you cum and this cum will provide the necessary lubrication for any buggery that takes place.

Girls - You also will be forceably masturbated. Your cunts will remain untouched except for the collection of lubricant, necessary for you also to be buggered.

Your orgasms are entirely functional and not for your pleasure.

The Guests will use your open orifices for urinating in, gushing in, anal fucking and your tongues for cleaning. You will be fitted with a dental retractor to keep your mouths open at all times.

Your purpose will be automatically assumed. Our guests should not have to ask to use you, you should be ready and waiting.

Now strip. Place your clothes, shoes and any personal items in the white bags you have been given. No items which identify you as an individual should remain - no earings, necklaces or any other jewellery - place these into the bags and hand them to my assistants in the white uniforms.

Attendants? Fit the conveniences with their collars and dental retractors, then take their bags to the storage area if you will. Thank you.

There is no room for pride or shame here, conveniences, so take that smirk off your face. And you! Stop trying to cover up! That pathetic attempt at an erection isn't needed here. We don't want your clits or your cocks - we want your holes and your fluids.

Now lean forward and spread your legs, so my attendants can examine you for cleanliness.

What's that No.4? A hair?! You were told to epilate before you came here! Pluck it out No. 4 and place it in his mouth. Now swallow it convenience. No gagging, no choking - swallow it down.

Now conveniences, you may have noticed the leashes on the wall. These are to make sure you can move around the room, but not leave. Attendants - attach the leashes and make sure they're on securely. The guests will be here soon and we can't have them wandering around the place - it's just not hygienic.

Right! Now everyone is in place, everyone knows what is expected of them, it's time for a dress rehearsal.

Lay on the floor conveniences, with your heads towards the centre of the room and your feet against the wall, your hands and arms will remain free but on no account are you to touch yourself with them. Swift and very sharp punishment will ensue if you do.

Firstly - urination swallowing. If you spill, you lick it up. Attendants stand over the heads of the conveniences and hold your knickers to the side, lower yourself down on their faces slowly until your cunt is directly aligned with the open mouth of the convenience and release.

Any struggling on the part of the convenience is easily dealt with by sitting down hard on the face. Use their nose for stimualtion if you need to.

Conveniences - you must keep swallowing! One gulp isn't enough! Keep drinking until the attendant is finished. Once they have finished, use your tongue to clean them thoroughly. Front to back. When you finish cleaning the front area, I want you to focus on their anus. Use you tongue to clean in and around until spotless - delicately, but determinedly. If the attendants get excited, then you must clean them of their fluids also. I want my attendants spotless, although when it comes to No. 5 you could be there a while - I've heard she gets very excited by the cleaning and juices everywhere - if she gushes, suck and lick that up too.

All done? Excellent. And look at how exciteable the conveniences have become! Perfect timing for the next practice - anal fuck toys.

On your hands and knees conveniences and spread your legs, I can see some of the girls are already lubricated, wonderful.

Attendants, put on your latex gloves. Now use your hands and bring the conveniences to orgasm. Collect their juice and jizz and work it into their arse. If they resist, simply go harder until they submit.

That's it. Lovely. Moans and puddles of spit from the fronts, fingers and thrusting from behind. Wonderful. That's it, collect it and lubricate them with it.

Now attach your strap ons and lubricate those with their juice.

Conveniences - continue to keep your legs open. You have a choice - you can either push yourself onto the end of the strap on slowly, or if you mess about, wincing, my attendants will simply push it into you at their own pace, which isn't gentle. If you won't open up, you will be made to.

Mmmm...delightful! Glad to see you're all so flexible.

Now attendants, you have permission to fuck the conveniences hard for the next 5 minutes. If they cum, slap them and make them lick it up.

The guests have started arriving, so I shall go and greet them.

I'll be back in precisely 5 minutes.

Frisky

Just to grab you, push you against a wall, bite your neck and draw my hands down over your breasts and rip your shirt open, buttons flying. Bite my way down to your nipples and cause you to whimper and I sink my teeth in.

Run my hands down further and yank your jeans open. Force my hand in between your legs and finger you hard and fast.

Bite my way back up your body, turn you around and push my fingers in your mouth and make you suck them clean.

With one hand around your throat, I bite down on your shoulder and with the other hand I push down the jeans and rake my nails over your buttocks, up over your hips and over and down in between your legs again.

Using one finger to rub and one to fuck, I push you harder against the wall, not letting go as you pant and squeal and wriggle.

Hot, hot, hotter.

Come for me. Now.