From Jeannie to Vanessa Chapter 04

Chapter 4: Private sessions.

As we approached the shopping district where Visions in Lace was located, it suddenly dawned on me that it was getting fairly late in the afternoon. Would the store even be open?

I queried Jack and he responded, “It’s interesting that you bring that up. She actually requested that we come towards the end of the business day. As you probably noticed, she doesn’t stay open late, even on Saturdays. I think she intends to have a private session with us.”

A little chill ran down my spine. “Private session” could mean a lot of things. I guess the “Vanessa” syndrome was taking over again, and maybe I was seeing things that weren’t really there. Like the erotic moment with Suzy back at Wild Pair. Did she really give me a meaningful look and stroke the back of my leg after looking up my skirt? Or was I just looking at everything through lust-colored glasses?

When we arrived at the store, the staff was obviously beginning to close up for the day. One of the staff members was headed towards us when Marguerite materialized out of the office and stepped forward.

“Never mind, Marie, I know this couple, I will work with them personally,” she said in her precise, German-accented English.

Marie dipped her head slightly in acknowledgment and headed back to the rear of the store.

Marguerite was as an extraordinary a presence as ever. She had to have been 5’ 10” or 5’ 11” at least, although it was hard to tell because of her very tall high heels. She seemed to be slender, like a dancer, although the loose black dress she wore hid even that aspect of her looks.

The one thing that was easy to see was that, like the first time we had met her, she eschewed the currently fashionable heavily teased and permed hair for a single long jet-black braid that hung down the middle of her back, almost to her waist. She didn’t seem to wear a lot of makeup, but she had on a dark red lipstick that highlighted the paleness of her face.

“Mr. Jack, I’m so glad to see you!” She followed up the warm greeting with the touch of a hand on Jack’s arm, and then she took both of my hands in hers and kissed them gently, looking me directly in the eyes for a long moment. “And the beautiful miss Vanessa. How kind of you both to grace my poor premises again.”

Jack replied, “Thank you so much for your note and your offer of assistance. We are quite interested in seeing what you’ve put together, and perhaps talking with you further.”

“But of course. We are just closing up, so let’s go back to the dressing room and I’ll show you the pieces we talked about. We won’t be disturbed there.”

It turned out that she had two main clothing items she wanted to show, presumably ones that she and Jack had discussed over the phone. One was a dressy pair of pants and the other was what you might call “city shorts” – skirt-length shorts with wide legs. I went into a small changing area off the mirrored stage to try them on. Unsurprisingly, they fit perfectly.

I went back out into the stage area to model the dress pants for Jack. I wasn’t sure what the point was, exactly. I mean, they were lovely pants, and extremely well-made and fashionable, with a sort of flap or scarf that attached on one side like a large belt and hung down over the rear. They also seemed to have a little extra material in the crotch but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

I didn’t think they really met Jack’s “accessibility” criteria but I said nothing, stepping back onto the stage.

Jack smiled at me and asked, “So Marguerite, how do these work?”

Marguerite didn’t answer immediately; instead, she had me turn my back on Jack and lifted the flap in the back of the pants. “This little scarf attachment, which is removable, covers a small opening and a placket in the back of the pants. The placket covers a small zipper that separates the pants in two, like this.”

She turned me back around to face Jack, then she demonstrated by pulling the front zipper all the way down to the crotch. What I hadn't noticed when I slipped them on is that the zipper continued all the way around to the back. It was suddenly quite obvious to me that with the concealed placket in the back, these pants functioned exactly like the "zip-around" jeans we had purchased earlier that same day, but were much less obvious.

“If she is wearing a tunic top or suit jacket, the scarf attachment can be dispensed with, as the top will cover this opening and the placket. The shorts are the same; a little bit different in the concealment method, but the same ultimate result. The delicious miss Vanessa will instantly be sexually available to you whenever and however you want her.”

Wow. There it was. I mean, we all knew what we were talking about here, but to hear Marguerite say it out loud, standing right next to me was, well, wow. I felt like saying, “Hey, I’m right here guys!” but of course I didn’t. And “delicious.” That was a new one. I tasted that one on my tongue for a moment, and decided I liked it.

Jack nodded his head. “I can definitely see the occasions for use, particularly in colder weather. I must admit, though, I much prefer her in a skirt or dress.”

Marguerite smiled. “Of course you do. She has beautiful legs and should display them whenever possible, and a skirt is much more convenient in every way.

“I do have something else I’d like to show you, though, that I think you may like. Vanessa, this way please,” and she led me back into the changing room.

She followed me in with several boxes. “Vanessa, would you please undress completely?” she asked politely but firmly. She didn’t offer to leave the room.

I was a little hesitant – the marks on my back from the whipping Jack had given me last night were all too plain – but I knew instinctively that I really had no choice but to comply. I slipped out of the new pants, removed my blouse, and proceeded to remove the stockings. Marguerite unhooked the bustier from behind and I laid it on one of the chairs. I stood, barefooted, on the carpeted floor. I shivered a little, from the cold, or perhaps simply from being naked in front of her, or perhaps...fear? Anticipation?

Marguerite examined me closely, up and down, in the front. I had the distinct sense of being inspected, like I was a soldier going on parade or something. She was so tall in her heels that I was almost looking at her chest. She lifted my chin up and looked me intently in the eyes. “There is no reason to be afraid, liebchen, your Jack and I will take good care of you. Turn around, please.”

While I was still thinking about the implications of that, I began to wonder how she would react to the marks on my back, but she simply said, “These welts look pretty painful. Are they?”

I nodded without speaking.

“Just a moment then.” She disappeared from the room and reappeared with a jar. “This is aloe vera, directly from the plant. It will help remove some of the residual sting and heal them more quickly. You should keep a plant around, or some of the cream made from it. I think you are going to need it, and you will find it useful.”

She took some of the creamy substance from the jar and began to apply it to my back as I stood, naked, before her. The cream felt wonderful. Her hands felt pretty good too. She wasn’t applying it in an impersonal way, like a doctor or nurse would. She was caressing my back gently, almost like a lover. Her hands crept around to the sides of my breasts as she smoothed in the cream, and down in front of my hips as she spread the cream where the belt had wrapped around my sides. She continued to rub my rapidly warming flesh until the cream was completely absorbed. I was beginning to breathe a little harder when she stopped and capped the jar.

She placed the jar aside and said, “I’m going to have you try on something that I think Jack will really like. It’s an under bust corset. I’m not going to cinch the laces very tight, given the sensitivity of your back, but it can be tightened quite a bit if he wants you to do so later. You are 22 inches in the waist,” a statement, not a question, “so you could reduce it down to 20 without much difficulty or 18, or possibly even smaller, by tightening it completely.”

A corset? Wow. I didn’t think anybody wore them anymore. That was something right out of the 19th Century!

She helped me put it on. It had no shoulder straps, being designed to fit under and lift the breasts, much like the push-up open cup bra I had gotten here on our first visit. It had hook-and-eye closure in the front but laced from behind. It was beige in color, almost like a very light skin tone.

Then she handed me a new pair of stockings. Like one of the pair I had taken home with me last time (but hadn’t opened yet), this was taupe-colored and had a seam running down the back. I had thought it was old-fashioned, but when I saw it on my leg, with the seam outlining the curve of my calf and up the back of my thigh, I realized it was pretty sexy!

When I turned around she was opening a shoe box. Whoa, these were no ordinary shoes. They were black patent leather pointed-toe pumps with spike heels, but the similarity to any other shoes I had ever tried on ended there. These shoes had platforms that had to have been an inch-and-a-half tall. The heels themselves were easily six inches tall, and may have even been taller than that. I had never seen anything like them. They were beautiful, but I wasn’t sure if they were made for walking or just lying about seductively!

It looked like I was going to have to walk in them. Marguerite gestured for me to sit down, and she fitted each shoe to my foot. Of course, as with everything Marguerite had prepared for me, they fit perfectly. She had me hold each leg up straight out with the shoe on, and her expert hands moved up and down my legs, from shoes to garters, making sure the stockings and seams were straight and tight without wrinkles.

Then I stood up and she repeated the process. Each time her hands caressed my legs they went from the ankle all the way up to the bare skin (just shy of my rapidly moistening pussy) and back down.

When she was finished, we were both breathing a little faster. She led me carefully out into the mirrored dressing room and up on the stage. “Vanessa, please turn around so Jack can get the entire effect.”

With Marguerite’s hand on the bare skin of my hip below the edge of the corset (to steady me, I supposed, in the extreme heels), I slowly turned around. In the mirrors, I couldn’t believe what I saw. There wasn’t a shred of “plain Jeannie” left. It was completely Vanessa.

My hair was slightly in disarray from the changes in clothing. My breasts were lifted and displayed by the corset and (I knew) the nipples were stiffening quickly. The decorative ruffles around the base of the corset, along with the garters and the hose, framed my nude and rapidly dampening sex. The amazing heels and the stockings made my legs look longer and more shapely than I would have ever believed, and the seams up the back of my legs outlined that shape in an incredibly sexy way.

The icing on the cake was the way the whip marks curled around my back and sides, marking me clearly as what I had become. I looked – hot!

The effect on Jack was immediate and dramatic. He had been sitting; he stood up to get a better view. We locked eyes. I could feel the heat of Marguerite’s hand burning on my upper thigh.

I hesitated for a moment, then stepped delicately forward, off the stage, towards Jack, feeling Marguerite’s hand reluctantly fall away as I moved. I walked straight to him and knelt on the carpet at his feet. Without a word, I unbuckled his pants, pulled down his underwear, and lifted his rapidly swelling cock out and sank it into my mouth. I heard him groan, then, but no words came out. I licked and sucked the outside of his member, taking his balls into my mouth and continuing to tease his cock as it reached its full size and then once more engulfed it in my mouth.

After a few moments I raised my head and said, “Please fuck me, Jack. Right now. Please!”

He reached down and lifted me by my upper arms until I was facing him. My God, with these heels on I was nearly at eye level!

Jack breathed to me, his voice husky, “You are one cock-hungry little slut, aren’t you?”

I nodded without speaking.

He pushed me back against a table near the chair where he had been sitting, and lifted me up so that my bottom was on the table. He roughly entered me, pulling me forward at the same time to maximize his penetration and then supporting me. My stocking-clad legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him as deeply into me as I could. My eyes had closed at his first deep thrust but then I opened them, looking over his shoulder. Marguerite was watching us, her eyes smoky with lust.

I couldn’t look away. My eyes held hers as Jack pistoned in and out of me. Occasionally, when Jack impaled me with particular gusto, my eyes would close for a moment in the ecstasy of this savage demonstration of his full possession of me. Whenever my eyes would open again, however, there would be Marguerite’s hungry stare.

As my orgasm began to roll over me, my eyes were open and locked on hers. I screamed out as I came. Jack was fucking me, but was I screaming to Jack or to Marguerite? Or both? “Oh God yes! Fuck me! Fuck your little bitch! I am your slut! FUCK ME!”


It took us a few minutes to wind down from that crescendo. I was like a dish-rag and I don’t think Jack was in much better shape. Marguerite appeared beside us as if nothing unusual had occurred, carrying a fresh damp wash-cloth which she handed to Jack, pointing the way to the men’s bathroom just down the hall.

She led me away to a toilet behind the changing room and helped me clean myself up. She was the soul of efficiency and decorum – much like the male manager had been back at Wild Pair after he had sent Suzy reluctantly off on her lunch break. It was as if the Marguerite I had seen in the dressing room earlier had been carefully tucked away for now.

We went back into the changing room and she helped me out of the outrageous heels, corset, and seamed stockings and back into my own lingerie and clothing. Once dressed, she suggested I return to the toilet, wordlessly handing me my purse as I went.

I could see what she meant. My hair was a wreck, my lipstick was smeared and my eye shadow was ruined. How did that happen, I wondered. In the mirror, as I repaired the damage, I mused on the woman (not girl, I thought) who looked back at me. From a shy college girl to a slut who thought nothing of sucking her Master’s cock and then fucking him right in front of a beautiful not-quite stranger….but that’s probably why I did it.

I was trying to prove something. But what, exactly? That I was a submissive slut? I think that was pretty well established, frankly, probably before we even came back tonight. That I belonged to Jack? Hmmm, no news flash there. That I was shameless, and open to anything? Bingo!

I stepped back out into the dressing room with a new understanding of...something. Jack was waiting.

“Marguerite’s invited us to dinner, so we can continue our discussion of – uncommon requirements.”

“Jack, as wonderful as that sounds, it’s almost a two-hour drive back to your school. It’s getting late. I’m pretty tired, too. Don’t you think...”

“She’s invited us to stay the night, as well.” He interrupted my whine.

“Do I get a vote?”


I smiled as lasciviously as I knew how. “Vanessa votes yes.”


The drive to Marguerite’s was short. She lived in a brownstone in an upscale neighborhood less than a mile from the shopping district where her store was located. She had given us the address, and told us to give our keys to the doorman who would park our car. We did so, climbed into an old-fashioned elevator, and soon were outside her door.

A tuxedo-clad male servant opened the door to our ring, and we walked into a spare, modern apartment that seemed to be all shades of gray and black and straight lines and angles. The one discordant note in all this was that the servant was wearing a black mask. Not a tiny little eye-shield mask like you might see at a costume party, but a hood, like a super-hero might wear, even down to bubble-like goggles concealing the eyes.

Jack and I both stared at the apparition. Marguerite suddenly appeared, still in the dress she had worn at her shop.

“Oh don’t mind Edgar,” she assured us, “He’s just like a piece of furniture, and you should treat him as one. As if he weren’t there.”

What an odd and hurtful thing to say! Neither Jack nor I had any familiarity with servants or household staff (I was the household staff at my house, when I was home) but we certainly hadn’t been raised to treat people like objects!

“I see your shocked looks. I’m sorry, I should explain further. He’s a client. You wanted to know more about the lifestyle you are embarking on? We should be able to have some good discussions then.

“You see, what Jack does to you for love – and pleasure, of course – I do for money... and pleasure, of course.” She smiled. “I’m a professional Domme. Edgar, here, is a regular of mine. His name is not really Edgar, and the mask is partly to protect his identity, and his reputation. He’s a successful businessman, with a doting wife and two lovely daughters. But,” her smile turned downward a little, “something’s missing in his life.

“He regularly spends an evening with me, suffering some humiliation and punishment. Something he needs to feel complete in his life.

“And tonight, he will be our servant. He can hear you perfectly, but he cannot speak. So now,” she continued, “he will offer you wine. I will, as the saying goes, ‘slip into something more comfortable’ and then we will have dinner.” With that, she waved us towards large black leather seats in the parlor area and disappeared into another door.

Edgar did indeed offer wine. Both Jack and I chose red and sat down in individual leather chairs and tried to take everything in. Edgar retreated to a corner of the room and stood completely still, as if he were, indeed, a piece of furniture.

We both looked around the room at the hard angles and straight lines and contrasted them with the brightly colored Impressionist paintings on the walls.

Before long, Marguerite returned. She was wearing something that might have been called a dressing gown, if dressing gowns were made of body-hugging black silk. The gown was closed only at her waist by a tied belt. The belt closure left a generous portion of her upper torso uncovered, revealing a black bustier underneath. Her long legs and (now visible) dancer’s body were very much on display, as her legs split the front of the gown with each step – showing she was also wearing black stockings with garters, and apparently nothing else.

“Comfortable” to Marguerite apparently meant eye-popping, right down to the black stiletto heels on her feet.

I noticed that, well, Jack noticed. How could he not? The outfit was clearly designed to draw attention to the woman inside, who was already pretty striking in her work clothes. I felt a little overshadowed. I knew I shouldn’t feel jealous. Jack is in charge! I’m his most precious possession (as DeeDee had told me in the Student Union the night of our fight), but still! Jack’s tongue was practically hanging out!

But Marguerite’s first words were to me, not Jack. “Vanessa, please go into my room and you will find something comfortable to wear also. It’s laid out on the bed for you. Go, now, go.” She waved her hand dismissively, as one might with a child.

I stomped off into the room (as a child might do) repressing my fury. I stopped cold at the foot of the bed – laid out was an outfit practically identical to Marguerite’s own, but in white. White silk gown, white bustier, white stockings and white sky-high heels. I smiled. Two could pop some eyes, I guess.

Blonde Vanessa, all in white, and raven-haired Marguerite, all in black – this could be interesting!

I emerged from the room a few minutes later. In addition to the revealing white outfit Marguerite had laid out for me, she had set out a range of makeup items on the bed. I had rummaged a little bit and found a frosty white lipstick and silvery eye-shadow.

Jack looked from one of us to the other with wide eyes, as if he had been punched in the gut. He was absolutely speechless.

Marguerite smiled broadly at me when I appeared. “Ah, Vanessa, our beautiful snow queen, has joined us! Let’s have dinner now, before she melts.” She led the way to the dining area.

During the excellent dinner, served by the wordless Edgar, Marguerite initially steered the conversation to lighter subjects. She asked about our schooling, plans for work and career, where we might live, and so on. Edgar poured more wine to accompany the meal.

Once the meal had been cleared away, she began to address us in more serious tones.

“Now, I know you came here hoping to have a little frank talk. I’ve given you some idea of my experience. If you think you are comfortable discussing it, let’s talk about where you two are, how you got there and where you are going.”

Jack began to tell our story from his perspective. He told Marguerite frankly about the fantasy role-playing, and how it became apparent to him that I craved the submissive role.

He also told her how he had first met DeeDee and Rick and how he became aware of their relationship (none of which I had yet heard).

He described in some detail how he and DeeDee hatched the “scene” where I was “kidnapped” and fucked, first by Rick, and then by Jack, with DeeDee’s assistance and guidance.

This was really enlightening! I had been blindfolded and gagged through most of it, and had no idea of DeeDee’s level of participation in the planning, much less in the scene itself, except for the pussy shaving, of course. DeeDee herself had told me about that.

As Jack described it, DeeDee’s presence had been mostly to ensure my safety, and to moderate Rick from going too far. When I remembered back, I couldn’t quite imagine how he could have gone much farther, without causing permanent injury. I guess that was why she was there.

Marguerite interrupted briefly to ask a question. “So the “scene” was almost non-consensual, yes? But you had DeeDee there in a “safety” role. And the marks I saw during your first visit were from Rick, correct?”

He confirmed the truth of that statement, and then (reluctantly, I thought) told her how he had lied to me about Rick’s involvement, and how I had learned the truth, and our resulting (very public) fight and reconciliation.

He also backtracked for a moment and told her about the public sex in the park the day after the “kidnapping” and the “audience” there.

He then told Marguerite how, after our reconciliation, I had demanded (his words) that he punish me, and had goaded him into whipping me with the belt.

Marguerite asked for a more detailed description, what I had said, how he had tied me, and so forth. She laughed about the encounter with the floor dick, Andy, and the other students.

“Let me see if I can capture the essence of this story – and please, both of you, don’t hesitate to correct me if I get it wrong – it’s your story, not mine.

“You, Jack, determined from fantasy play that Jeannie, Vanessa, here, really wanted to be a sub. You subjected her to an intense scene – that she clearly enjoyed – and then lied to her about the participants, particularly about the person who was her principle assailant.”

Jack nodded wordlessly.

“Then, after dressing her in the garter belt and stockings, and some carefree sex in the park, she came to visit you at school and found out about Rick, and DeeDee, and their participation. You fought, and then reconciled. I have to wonder…how did that reconciliation really happen? You crossed a pretty big line with her.”

Jack turned his gaze on me. “DeeDee intervened. I’m not sure what she said, but whatever it was, it made the difference.”

Marguerite focused on me. “Vanessa, I’d like to hear your input, please.”

I jumped a little. I had been listening passively, fascinated with Jack’s retelling of our story.

“DeeDee convinced me that Jack had used Rick to treat me roughly – to break me and convince me that I was submissive – because Jack loved me too much to do what needed to be done. She said he would never really enjoy hurting me. She said I was his most precious possession, but that he had given me away to prove to me what I really was.”

Marguerite turned her full attention back to Jack for a moment. “Did you hear that? I would say ‘from the mouths of babes’ except in this case, it’s ‘from the mouths of subs.’

“You took a big chance, with that scene, and almost destroyed all you had gained with the lie. But the other sub – DeeDee? – was able to salvage it for you. You both owe her a debt. I want to meet this girl.”

“One other thing. Who initiated the sex in the dressing room today. Vanessa, or you?”

“Vanessa did,” said Jack in a low tone of voice.

At this point Edgar reappeared with a tray containing a tall green-labeled bottle with a clear liqueur and three small glasses.

“Ah, good, let’s move back to the sitting room.” Marguerite seated Jack in the same leather chair he had been in before dinner. She steered me, however to a leather love seat that faced it and joined me there, placing me on her right with her right arm casually draped across my shoulders. The submissive snow queen, dressed in white, contrasting with – the Domme – dressed in black. Edgar served liqueur to the three of us. She sat and crossed her legs, and the dressing gown fell away, exposing both legs almost to the hip.

Berliner Luft, or Berlin Air, is special brand of peppermint schnapps from East Germany. It’s not easy to get here, but American GI’s who are able to cross into the east buy it and bring it home. It’s very good for the digestion. Prost!” she raised her glass, and tipped it to her lips.

“Prost!” Jack and I said together, following her example.

Marguerite put the empty glass down, and Edgar promptly refilled it.

I was thinking that I had drunk more alcohol in the last two hours than I’d had in the last two months. I wasn’t much of a drinker, and neither was Jack, although he obviously had more body mass than I did. I didn’t feel drunk, though, but I did feel pretty relaxed!

I looked down at Marguerite’s long legs, and figured, sauce, goose, gander, etc. I wanted to touch her, but I wasn’t sure how to start. I put my right hand on her right upper thigh, just above the stocking top, and began to play with the garter and the stocking.

“I asked you to tell me that story, so that I could understand more about your relationship, but also, because I believed you both needed to hear a little from each other. I know you came to see me to talk more about this, and we shall.

“Jack seems to know quite a bit and Vanessa is clearly learning – and eager to learn more, I see...” She uncrossed her legs and her left hand captured my right hand and gently guided it upwards, in between her thighs.

“We use the term dominant and submissive to represent the roles we take on in our relationships. The dominant, usually referred to as a dom for a man and a domme for a woman, makes the rules in the relationship. The domme’s preferences and desires define the relationship, and the sub agrees to the rules and allows the domme to control him. The sub has turned power over to the domme.

“But all dominants and submissives are different,” she continued, “just like all people. Some subs like and need pain in the relationship, some need humiliation, some must have multiple partners, and some want only to be of service to their domme. In these relationships, safe words are often used to prevent real damage to the sub, whether it be physical or psychological or emotional.”

Marguerite lifted my chin up at this point and kissed me lightly on the lips. My right hand slipped deeper into the hollow between her thighs, brushing the lips of her pussy. Her right hand first pulled me closer, then slipped under the top of my gown, and was now resting beside my right breast, cupping it really. Jack said nothing. I looked at him, and he was looking at us intensely over the rim of his glass. I was deep in “Vanessa” mode and awaited his direction, or objection.

Marguerite continued. “There is another set of terms – top and bottom. Topping and bottoming are more the descriptions of things we do inside the relationship to satisfy our needs. It’s possible to be a little of both – for example, a domme who gets pleasure from meeting the needs of her sub; a sub who knows exactly what he wants in terms of humiliation, or bondage, or pain, and drives the relationship to obtain those things that he needs.

“Subs can have real power in a relationship, even though they have, on the surface, ceded that power to the domme. I think that describes something that is happening in your relationship. You are the dom, Jack, and your desires set the tone. But Vanessa knows what she wants and doesn’t hesitate to demand it – to use your words – from you. What’s important, I think, is to recognize it, and make it work for you.”

I was trying to listen, to understand, and I think it was getting through, but other matters were beginning to take priority in my consciousness. I had discovered that Marguerite’s pussy was also shaved. Not completely, like mine; hers had a small patch of hair just above the clitoral hood. Additionally I had discovered that she was – also – wet. My fingers had been slipping in and out of her pussy, and I lifted them out and up to my mouth and sucked my fingers while looking once more directly at Jack.

The fingers on Marguerite’s right hand were now gently tugging and rolling my right nipple through the thin material of the bustier. When she saw me suck my fingers, she captured them with her left hand, then leaned over and languidly sucked them too. Then she lifted my chin and kissed me again.

This was no chaste kiss on the lips this time; her lips opened, her tongue drove deep into my mouth and met mine, and we tangled in delicious combat for a long moment. Her left hand came up behind my ear and pulled my head closer. I kissed her back with equal abandon. My fingers returned to her pussy and began to stroke her more urgently, now gently brushing the clitoris itself. Her right hand was now inside the bustier on my breast, cool fingers against my heated flesh, continuing to tease my now rigid nipple.

She broke from the kiss and continued her thought, a little breathless this time. I could see that Jack was breathing heavily as well. He shifted his weight a little in the leather chair. His cock was getting hard, I realized.

I was about to come apart at the seams.

“There is a third set of terms, Master and slave. Generally speaking, these are the most experienced and devoted practitioners, who have real in-depth knowledge of each other. The slave, in this case, has truly given power to the Master. Often, they know each other’s needs and boundaries so well that a safe word becomes unnecessary.”

At this point Marguerite leaned back in the love seat, and guided my face to her breasts. I slipped the robe off her shoulders, pulled the straps of her bustier down over her shoulders as well, and freed both of her lovely small breasts of their covering. I slid down to my knees in front of her, and my lips sought her nipples and my hands were squeezing and fondling the fleshy globes.

At this point Jack stood up – I heard a scrape as he bumped the low table in front of his chair slightly – and then I heard the metallic tingle of buckle and the faint sound of a zipper.

I couldn’t work my way down her body and kiss the soft flesh of her belly like I wanted, because of the bustier and its attached stockings; so with her hands guiding my head, my lips quickly found their way between her legs. I had never kissed a woman’s pussy; heck, I had never been this close to a woman’s pussy before other than my own since I knew what one was.

But I knew the things that Jack did, that felt so good, and my teacher was not shy about providing guidance with gentle movements of her hands and quietly uttered phrases. I felt her hands grow tighter in my hair as I kissed and licked her most intimate flesh. I sucked on the outer lips as Jack had done for me, and pulled gently on them and the dark moistness of the interior with my tongue and lips.

I had tasted my own juices on Jack’s cock before, but that had not been as intense as the smell and taste of Marguerite. She began to rock her hips forward, against my face, and I drove my tongue deeper into her and captured her clit. Suddenly I could feel the orgasm approaching; she began to buck against my mouth and tongue as I strove to suck and lick her, trying to draw all of her sweet tender pussy into my mouth. She made small cries of passion and then was suddenly silent.

I glanced up to see why and saw that Jack was standing by the love seat, her face in his hands and his stiff cock filling her mouth. I redoubled my efforts, wanting to draw the orgasm out of her so she could focus on sucking Jack’s cock. Marguerite’s bucking against my straining lips and tongue became more intense, both faster and wilder. Suddenly I could feel her tension release; along with the sudden feeling came more of her delicious juices, which I hastened to suck and swallow.

Jack continued to fuck Marguerite’s mouth. Her cheeks hollowed with the effort of taking him all in. The shudders from her own orgasm beginning to fade, Marguerite turned her body slightly to adjust his angle of attack and suddenly his cock was buried full length in her throat.

I’ve got to learn how to do that, I said to myself, remembering Rick’s pile-driver assault on my unwilling mouth and throat the night of the “scene.” Had it really only been two weeks?

I looked at my lovers (plural, I thought in a detached way) and knew Jack’s moment would be soon; his ass was tightening and his balls seemed to swell slightly as he came. And cum he did. I could see the length of his cock expanding and contracting rhythmically inside her throat as he ejaculated and I could see her throat working desperately to get it all down. It was surreal – I had never seen anything like it. Marguerite’s long, pale, swan-like neck, framed by the coil of her jet-black braid lying across her shoulder and distended by the thick cock buried within, pulsing as jet after jet of semen filled her.

Only I was denied an orgasm, but somehow I didn’t feel cheated. What I had taken part in...what I had was amazing!

Marguerite’s body relaxed and a few heartbeats went by when no one said, or did, anything. Then I half-heard Marguerite murmur to Jack. His strong arms lifted me onto the love seat and turned me as Marguerite shifted onto the carpet and knelt at my feet. Her tongue found my dripping pussy and suddenly my head was slamming back into the seat. Marguerite’s skill far surpassed my own and even (dare I admit it?) Jack’s. This girl really knew how to eat pussy! I thought irreverently. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my dear God! I was already turned on beyond all imagining by the events of the last hour but now….I began to scream wordlessly as my orgasm rolled over me, wave after wave.

Jack staggered around the back of the seat and plopped down beside me, wrapping one arm about my shoulders much as Marguerite had done. Marguerite remained at our feet. After a few minutes, the general gasping for breath seemed to ease.

Marguerite turned her face upwards towards Jack and, with an unexpectedly severe expression said, “That will be twenty-five hundred dollars, please.”

Both of us stared at her, our mouths hanging open in astonishment.

Marguerite held the severe expression for another heartbeat or two. Then she covered her mouth and fell back against my leg laughing. Soon, we got the joke and began to laugh as well.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t help myself, but you should have seen the looks on your faces!”

She got up on her knees again, and gave Jack’s no-longer-fearsome cock a kiss and then did the same for my pussy. Then she reached behind my hip onto my ass cheeks with both hands, pulling me closer to her, and gave my pussy another slow lick with her expert tongue and looked into my eyes for a long moment.

She glanced over towards the wall, where Edgar still stood silently, and breathed, “Well, that was fun, but it’s back to coal mining for me.”

“What?” Jack queried.

Marguerite responded. “I mean back to my work. How do you say it? Not coal mines?”

Jack chuckled. “The American expression is ‘back to the salt mines.’ Not coal mines.”

“Sometimes my tongue fails me,” she laughed back, sticking her tongue out and wagging it.

“I can’t imagine that at all.” I said, sticking my own tongue out and licking my lips. Marguerite smiled back and said nothing.

A moment later, she began to stand up. “Let me show you where you are sleeping. I still have some responsibilities to attend to, but there is no reason for you not to relax. You are welcome to stay out here, have more wine or schnapps as you like, but I must deprive you of Edgar’s services. It’s time to deliver what he really came for.”

Marguerite showed us down the hall to a well-appointed bedroom, suite really, with a king-sized bed and its own bath.

“Please relax, I think there is everything you might need in the room. Use anything you want, if you discover there is something you need that is not there, and you cannot find it, I will be available in an hour or so.

“Tomorrow, we will have a further opportunity to discuss any of your additional questions or needs at breakfast. Please, take your ease.”

At that, she disappeared in the direction of her own room and we went into ours. It wasn’t really that late, but it had been an eventful day. We had no bags to unpack, so we both began to look around for the things we might need for the night and morning. The place was fully equipped for strays like ourselves, with all sorts of toiletry items including shaving (shaving!) gear, lounging robes, and slippers.

Jack and I sat down on the bed for a moment and just looked at each other.

“Wow,” he said looking at me, “that was a little more than we bargained for!”

I nodded in response without speaking.

He continued, “Are you OK?”

I nodded again. “She and I had exchanged some looks at her store, and she had caressed me a couple of times. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to go through with it,” I giggled a little, “but the alcohol helped. She IS dominant, and she clearly had no difficulty taking charge of me tonight. She even dressed me for the occasion!

“I was a little worried that you might object when I began to touch her…you hadn’t really given me permission. But it seemed that you liked what happened. I’ve heard it said that men like to see two women together, but I wasn’t sure about your reaction.”

“Did you enjoy it?” He queried.

I smiled. “What do you think?”

He smiled back. “I think you are a submissive slut, which is just the way I want you. I also think you may be a little bisexual. I don’t mean that as criticism, just as an observation. If you weren’t enjoying sex with Marguerite tonight you did some fantastic acting. What I witnessed between you two tonight was hot – almost the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Really? What was hotter than that?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Jack looked into my eyes. “Seeing Rick fuck you when you were bound and blindfolded.”

Wow indeed. That took me back. I remembered how intense that had been, and how hot it had made me feel. I began to feel a tingling in my pussy again, just thinking about it. And where I was tonight, that was largely a result of the way Rick and Jack (and DeeDee) had changed me that night. Again I wondered...had it only been two weeks?

“How did you feel about seeing me with her?” He asked offhandedly.

“How could I object? You are in charge, we had that discussion already. I’ve already imagined you with DeeDee and I think I am OK there. With Marguerite, she and I were already making love when you joined in. How could I object then?

“Remember what I said tonight, about what DeeDee told me the night we had our fight? She said that I was your most precious possession. Is that still true?”

He drew me close. “Truer than ever. You become more desirable every day. I will NEVER release you. Lend you, maybe, but never let you go.” Then he kissed me. It was not an all-out “let’s fuck” kiss, but rather a warm, loving caress.

We began to ready ourselves for bed. I went to the bathroom to pick up a glass to get some water and the glass slipped out of my hand, fortunately falling on a soft rug instead of the tile floor. Nevertheless, it managed to break a chip out of the rim and I needed another glass.

I had already undressed and showered, but I put the white gown back on and slipped into some high-heeled mules that were in the closet. I could have worn a proper robe but I liked the thin, revealing material that Marguerite had given me to wear earlier. I left the room and headed for the kitchen, which I assumed was behind the dining area. Just coming out of our bedroom and back into the hall, I encountered Marguerite.

She was dressed entirely differently this time. Skin-tight black leather pants, high laced-up high-heeled boots, a short close-fitting leather jacket, and a leather peaked cap, similar to a police cap but narrower and taller. She actually looked pretty amazing (again), and very intimidating.

Liebchen, was brauchst du?” Marguerite inquired gently.

I looked at her without comprehension.

Marguerite laughed and said, “I’m sorry, my darling, I’m in my German brain. Edgar likes me to berate him in German. He’s Jewish, so I think it’s part of his need for humiliation. That’s the reason for this outfit, although I think I look good in it myself. He would have me wear a Nazi armband, I think, but I will not do that, not for him nor for anyone else.” She shook her head.

“Did you need something?”

I told her about the glass, and she ushered me into the kitchen where she quickly provided a replacement.

As I turned to leave she said, “Wait...” and I stopped, and turned to face her.

She reached out and pulled me close. Even with the heels I was wearing, she towered over me.

“I used the word ‘delicious’ to describe you before, at the shop. I want another word for you, one that is to ‘delicious’ as, perhaps, ‘blazing hot’ would be to ‘warm.’ You are blazing hot, and you cause me to burn as well, with hunger for you. I have known many men and women, but you are something special.

“I think you have a good man in Jack, who loves you and has the potential to be a good Dom for you. But know this,” she continued, “I would make you my own pet in a second, were you to wish it. If Jack allows it, I will take you and train you. You belong on your knees, Vanessa.”

She took me in her arms and kissed me then, more aggressively than she had in the love seat earlier. She bit my lip in her kiss, and I tasted my own blood.

“Go to your room, girl. I will come to you later.”

I did as I was told.

When I entered our room, Jack was just toweling off after leaving the shower. “What took you so long? I was going to come looking for you as soon as I was dry.”

“I ran into Marguerite. She was just coming back from...doing whatever she was doing to Edgar. She was dressed for the part. And Jack...” she trailed off for a second. “She made it clear she was hot for me, and was going to ask for your permission to train me.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“I get a vote, right?”


I knelt on the carpet at Jack’s bare feet. “I vote for you to decide.”


We got into bed together, naked, as was our custom, and kissed in a relaxed fashion. We had both had an exhilarating and exhausting day, so it wasn’t long before I flipped around into our “spoon” position and soon Jack’s breath became regular and even. I couldn’t go to sleep; I hadn’t told Jack that Marguerite’s last words to me were “I will come to you later.”

Soon, however, the door opened and Marguerite’s sleek form was outlined in the dim light from the hall. She slipped into bed beside me, naked, her long hair loose, damp and slightly smelling of shampoo.

“Will he waken?” She asked quietly.

“He generally sleeps pretty soundly.” I answered.

“Later, for him, then.” She responded.

I wasn’t exactly sure what she meant, but I didn’t really care at the moment. I wanted her.

We embraced and I began to kiss her without waiting for command or invitation. The kisses were gentle and tender at first, and then more intense. I broke away and began to nibble her ears and kiss her neck. She giggled when my hair tickled her face as I worked my way around her shoulders. I gave both of her lovely boobs my devoted focus this time, no clothing or position issues in the way of my attentive lips and tongue (and gently-applied teeth where appropriate). When I was sure both of her nipples were stiff and distended, and her breathing had begun to grow ragged, I continued down her rib cage and belly with my kisses.

I skipped the obvious target and began to lick and kiss her long smooth legs, down to the ankles, and then her feet. I took each toe in my mouth and sucked it as if they were each one a tiny cock. I planned to work my way up the back of her legs, but I felt her begin to shift positions. She pulled on my legs and it came to me that she wanted me to rotate them over her head so that, as my lips approached her pussy, she would be in position to do the same for me. She wants to sixty-nine? I thought silently. Jack and I had tried something similar a few times but found it a little awkward.

It wasn’t awkward with Marguerite.

Later, we both lay back, exhausted, fingers intertwined. This would have been the time for a cigarette in the movies, but clearly neither one of us had that habit. I was surprised that Jack was still asleep, but Marguerite’s pussy had apparently been an effective (and intoxicating) gag against my usual noise.

Marguerite leaned over and kissed me gently. “I will see you both in the morning, liebchen.”

At that, she slipped silently out.

Had I just been unfaithful? Disobedient? Or just the slut they both wanted me to be? I wasn’t really sure, and at the moment, I didn’t really care.

Soon I too was asleep.


The morning came brightly through the windows. Jack was already up and in the bathroom brushing his teeth. He urged me to hit the shower (knowing my pre-, during, and post-shower activities took way longer than his routine).

I did so, and after completing my initial ablutions came back into the bedroom.

Imagine my surprise to see Marguerite’s slender legs wrapped around Jack’s hips, with his naked buttocks clenching and unclenching as he lay on top of her and pumped her with his cock! She glanced over at me, sweat streaking her face, and smiled. I smiled back and blew her a kiss as I turned and went back into the bathroom.

I looked into the mirror in the bathroom, searching my feelings as I searched my face. No guilt or jealousy resided there. I was simply Vanessa, plaything for Marguerite and Jack. And I loved it!

After a little interval, I returned to the bedroom. Jack and Marguerite were lying facing each other, talking quietly. I climbed back into the bed behind Jack and kissed the back of his neck. I think it startled him a little, but he relaxed as I kissed my fingers, reached across his shoulder to brush back a lock of Marguerite's jet black hair and place the kiss on her cheek.

With clear reluctance, Marguerite rose from the bed.

“Breakfast in five minutes!” she said brightly, “It will be simple, European-style. Coffee and juice also. No need to dress up!” And she was off the bed and out of the room.

Jack pulled on a pair of loose silk pajama bottoms he found in a drawer, and I decided I could get one more wear out of the white silk dressing robe that was part of my “snow queen” outfit from the night before. That, plus the high-heeled mules I had found in the closet, comprised my complete outfit.

Marguerite had a similar idea. She was wearing a black silk jacket, with multicolored dragons embroidered on the lapels, that was even shorter than the dressing robe she had worn the night before. Once again, she buttressed her already commanding height with high-heeled black mules.

On the table was a selection of breads, cheeses, and cold cuts, as well as sliced fruit. She queried our coffee needs with a look and then poured for us.

“We have a little more talking to do. I had hoped we could discuss this last night, but other activities interfered.” She smiled coquettishly. “You both have much to learn, and I would happily take the time, but I know you have to get back to your school and I have my own requirements today.

“Jack, I don’t recommend the use of a belt on Vanessa, except as a last resort. It does too much damage and the welts last too long. I suggest you use a flogger, you can whip with it or pull the blow at the end and just hit with the tips. A paddle is also good, and a riding crop may also be to your taste. I have prepared packages with all of the clothing and shoes from yesterday and last night, and I’ve put a flogger, paddle, and crop in there.”

I began to pay closer attention.

“Secondly. You mentioned to me this morning, Jack, that you were looking for ways to mark her.”

I was paying really close attention now. Mark?

“I put a small catalog of jewelry in your package. I have a jeweler here who will make, and install, anything you want. Collars, rings, piercing jewelry. When you have decided, or if you want to discuss advantages or disadvantages, let me know. If you decide to tattoo or brand her, I can arrange that also. Those are serious steps, as you know, so consider carefully.”

Pierce? Tattoo? Brand? Holy shit!

“Also, the shaving. I would suggest you consider another means of keeping her bare. I myself had electrolysis done. It’s permanent, but it takes a number of sessions to complete. The laser, I am not sure about. I’ve heard it works well, but it is new, and expensive. I have a clinic here that will do the electrolysis, and I would be glad to set that up for you.”

“Marguerite, you’ve been enormously helpful – more than helpful, I think. We must pay you for all of these things, the clothes, the shoes, the...the...flogger, crop and paddle.” Jack protested.

Marguerite waved her hand dismissively. “Trust me, I have enjoyed our experiences together. And I expect I will be hosting you both again, and especially Vanessa. You promised to let me train her, and I look forward to that.” She licked her lips.

“And I am very interested in meeting this other sub, this DeeDee. Oh, and her Dom too. We must arrange that.” She paused for a moment. “Do you have other questions? I don’t mean to rush you, but we all need to get dressed for the day.”

Jack hesitated for a moment. “You never really said much about your feelings concerning how we got here...I mean, how we developed this relationship. Particularly the scene with Rick and DeeDee.”

Marguerite looked at both of us for a long moment. “It is not for me to judge. Your way is your way. You took a big risk, bigger because of the lie. A D/s relationship is not about force, not in my view, anyway. It’s more about trust.

“The sub commits her willingness to obey you, trusting that you won’t hurt her permanently. And we’re not talking just physically here. But,” she smiled, “in your case it worked! Vanessa is clearly submissive. Demanding, needy, pushy, maybe even a little bratty at times. But she does belong on her knees. And I will happily help you keep her there!”

Bratty? I thought. Who’s bratty? But Marguerite was leaning forward to kiss me, and I held her embrace a long time. She kissed Jack just as thoroughly.

“Now, go get dressed. No need to say goodbye, the doorman will help you with your packages, and your car. I must the salt mines!”

And with that, she whirled away down the hall.

Jack and I looked at each other. Wow! What a sendoff! What would be next?

-to be continued-