''Yes, Ma''am,'' breathed Celia. Heart racing, she leant forward to kiss the vertical mouth that opened in a silent gasp to greet her. Gabriel''s leg tightened and pressed her face deep into hot satin flesh, wetly clean with just a trace of estuary scent to remind her she was eating a woman. With growing confidence she lapped the length of the slot, exploring the complex folds and ridges with her tongue, finding sensitive spots on the lips of either side and the delicate pit of the urethra at the top. Gabriel encouraged and guided her with soft gasps and whispers and an occasional tug on her hair when she went the wrong way.        The new task proved magically familiar. She could feel within herself what every touch would do, and found she was growing wet and open as if she too were being licked. She nuzzled Gabriel''s mound fondly, and discovered that she could caress it with her nose without taking her tongue out of the clutching vulva; with a little concentration - it was like the trick of patting your head and rubbing your tummy - she could massage it rhythmically while she lapped the hot salt trickles that churned into her mouth.

       ''Ha . hang on!'' cried Gabriel, almost tumbling into the bath. In a controlled fall she spread herself on the mat, grabbed Celia''s wrists and pulled her hands down. Celia prostrated herself lovingly before her Mistress, hands kneading her breasts and tongue busy, while Gabriel shouted with joy and drummed her little heels on Celia''s back.        Finally she pushed Celia away with an ungentle kick and sat up. ''No'' bad,'' she panted. ''Proper training, you could be dynamite.'' She took a deep breath and collected herself.

''Get in.'' She nodded at the bath.        Celia stood, trying to believe she had not only just done what she remembered but enjoyed it, and found that her hobble chain would not let her step into the bath. Gabriel was waiting impatiently, so she put a hand on either side and swung her legs up and over. Gabriel adjusted the taps and pushed the taller girl''s shoulder to make her kneel. Celia jumped and hissed as the water touched her already scalded flanks, then sat stiffly.        ''Did you mean,'' she said over the hiss of the shower as Gabriel soaked her tousled hair, ''you just act nasty to make people take you seriously?'' Gabriel barked with laughter.        ''Sweet Tits, I am nasty.

'' She worked lather into Celia''s scalp with hard fingertips. ''If you don''t believe it yet, just wait. Keep your hands down or I''ll chain ''em.''        Celia dropped her arms and blinked shampoo from her eyes. It occurred to her, not for the first time, that if Peter treated her like a pet, to Gabriel she was a life-size doll to dress and undress and play with. Her touch on Celia''s hair was becoming gentler and more fondling. ''Lovely . you ought to wear it longer.

I''d like to keep you for years and never cut it, just to see it fall over those gorgeous tits.'' She gave an evil snicker. ''And I could tie you in really mean positions with a ponytail!'' Water sluiced over Celia''s head. Gabriel stepped into the bath, tipped Celia''s face up and with the sponge in one hand and the shower-head in the other scrubbed her briskly.        ''Stand up and hold the shower-bracket.'' Celia rose, dripping, and stretched her arms overhead in the classical pose of a tethered slave, lifting her bosom to Gabriel''s eye-level. The small woman began to sponge her breasts with an adoring touch, moulding and shaping their resilience. ''Time was I''d''ve killed to have a pair like these.

Then I learnt it was more fun to own ''em than wear ''em.'' She took one pink crinkled nub in her lips, and drew it deeper with a suckling action that seemed to draw the strength out of Celia, who sagged and clung to her grip. Gabriel ran kisses down her chest and belly. ''Spread ''em,'' she growled.        Celia threw her knees shamelessly wide and closed her eyes. ''Yes, Mistress . Please .'' The water spray teased and thrilled, the sponge caressed, her legs were melting.