Dinner and a Show
by Chessman
Part 1

It was one of those propitious events that one cannot predict but simply sits back and enjoys.

I’d come to my favorite diner in NJ, one where the Sopranos series had frequently filmed, and sat in my usual booth facing the door. I ordered my favorite meal of brisket of beef, French fried potatoes, and steamed broccoli, and I was enjoying my opener of lentil soup when two women walked in and settled into the booth diagonally across from me.

The older woman of the pair was pleasantly enough attired and appeared to have a serene attitude. Her much younger companion was as restless as a puppy needing a walk. She sat across from her companion but did not settle, constantly fidgeting and looking very uncomfortable. The girl, about twenty, was wearing heels and a button-down-the-front dress of silvery satin, and she appeared to be wearing nothing underneath the dress. Her C cup breasts pressed out of the fabric and erect pencil eraser nipples were evident.

I noticed the older woman coaching the girl. Using only hand signals, the girl was instructed first to spread her legs wider, then to cross her legs in such a way as to allow the dress, unbuttoned for two buttons from its hemline, to expose the young woman’s crotch. The only thing separating her vagina from worldwide exposure was a thin lacy thong panty, which the girl now flashed uncomfortably.

Following another hand signal, the young woman sat campfire style on the seat of their booth, feet and knees wide apart. She attempted to eat her soup and sandwich lin this position but was soon fidgeting again and her panty had developed an obvious wet spot.

Finally I could not resist. I stood and walked the short distance over to the older woman. Bending down I inquired in a low whisper if her young companion was an exhibitionist, a submissive, or a slave in training. The older woman smiled and with a finger motioned her companion to unbutton the top button of the silvery satin dress. In doing so the girl exposed a silver choker that was standing in for a true slave’s collar. The older woman explained her companion was in training and had not yet committed to full slave status; but, indeed was submissive.

I whispered a suggestion to the dominant woman, who smiled and readily agreed. The girl was instructed, again in sign only, to unbutton two more buttons, which brought the opening at the neck of her dress just below the bottom curve of her ample bosom. I was told the reason the girl was fidgeting was she had small ball vibrators, which the older woman remotely controlled, inserted in both her vagina and anus. This also explained the growing damp spot on the girl’s thong front.

Now, much to the embarrassment of the girl, she was instructed to remove the thong and hand it to me. By squirming on her seat she managed to remove the garment, which I sniffed and then placed into my sport coat pocket.

The older woman then reminded the girl what would happen if her dampness stained the satin dress she was wearing. Silent still, the girl simply nodded yes, and the older woman stepped up the vibrators to another level. Warned not to cum, the girl rose from the table to go and pay the bill for the meal the two women had just ate

The older womanI thanked me for being such a good audience by offering me one of her business cards and giving me an open invitation to drop by anytime. When she saw the dark damp spot on the rear of the girl's silvery satin dress, the older woman whispered, "If you stop by in an hour you can help me teach this wild thing what it means when I tell her not to soil her clothing."

* * *

The next hour found me walking the seven city blocks to the address printed on the business card the older woman had presented to me.

Timing my arrival so as to be within the minute of the appointed hour, I gently knocked on a door, in spite of the posted 'Closed' sign. The older woman opened the door to allow my entry. She then closed and locked the door and drew down the shades, which blocked all view of the interior from the street.

The shop was a thing of beauty and I expressed that observation to her. She in turn thanked me and went on to explain that everything I saw was designed from her mind to the finished product and that many women of wealth and status considered themselves honored to be made one of her 'by appointment only' clientele.

The woman was a talented jewelry, dress and gown designer. On two turntables in this outer shop were manikins dressed in upscale fashionable business attire and on a fixed raised dais stood representative evening gowns, and wedding dresses suitable for Modern Bride magazine.

The show case displays were of fine gold and silver jewelry. No two alike, as she prided herself as being able to give her clientele one of a kind fashion that the woman of taste could get nowhere else but in this shop.

I knew I was not there under invitation to shop, however, two sets of women’s cuff links and a bracelet caught my eye and I asked if they might be held aside for purchase when the owner was in the mood to conduct business.

As the shop was named 'Design By Camille', I politely asked if she was the Camille. She laughed, a mature and hearty laugh, and then said she had been so angry with her niece that she had neglected to introduce herself, and that indeed she was indeed the self same Camille.

When I informed her that I was Mark Chessman, she gasped and said she had read the stories I had authored for a certain web site and found them intriguing.

I then inquired as to the younger of the pair I had seen in the diner. Camille said we would soon join her, as she was involved with the staff and tied up in the workroom behind the showroom portion of the building. Camille also indicated the ‘child’ was her niece, Linda, whom she had raised from age eight following the loss of Linda’s parents in a fiery automobile crash. Linda was now nineteen, soon to be twenty, and had gone from a brightly focused National Honor Society high school over-achiever to a girl completely without focus, wasting her time and her aunt’s hard-earned money for three semesters of college at the Philadelphia Institute of Fashion and Design.

Linda, Camille’s heir apparent in the business, had been put on both academic and social probation by her school and was now serving a one semester suspension for running what amounted to a tavern out of her dorm room. On her return home from the college Linda had been placed under discipline by Camille. No boyfriends or girlfriends allowed, no drinking nor drugging, and for the next five months until the suspension was lifted, she had to work in her aunt’s shop and sewing floor as an apprenticed intern.

Camille had fashioned the silver choker necklace/collar for her niece to resemble the choke collars used to train dogs. A fine leather strap could be added by clipping it to the toggle ring of the collar. It was by means of this device that Camille maintained minute-by-minute control of her niece and insured that Linda was doing the tasks appointed in a manner that did not disappoint Camille or her customers.

Still, even with all of the layers of control in place, Linda had managed to attempt a display of temper by cutting an important client’s fabric incorrectly, costing her aunt several hundred dollars of fine silk, and by leaving a hot iron on the beaded bodice of a wedding gown due to be worn in three days. Her final rebellious act had been to use a bolt of velveteen as a masturbation mount, leaving her fluids embedded so deeply into the edge of the bolt that the wet stain penetrated through seven or more yards of material. Her aunt had caught Linda in the act and when Camille screamed at her, Linda stuck out her tongue and continued to ride the bolt to climax.

That was enough for Camille. She had two of her shop girls, who both worked the store and the back room as seamstresses, hold Linda down while Camille rammed vibrators into Linda’s vaginal and anal passages. The anal plug was removed twice a day so that Linda could move her bowels and bathe. The egg-like vaginal device had not been removed since it had been inserted. Camille kept the remote control for the two devices with her at all times and used the pitch intensity of the pair to control her niece’s attention span toward work, household chores and social interaction. The vibrating eggs could apparently give both pain and pleasure depending on the whim of the operator.

Camille had also instructed her niece that as it appeared she did not understand instructions given in plain English, all future communications between the aunt and niece would be non-verbal commands. By the evening I had bumped into the pair in the diner Linda had learned every nuance of the hand signals her aunt used to communicate. Yet, she had still not learned self-control. The soiling of the satin dress with her fluids proved that.

It was at this point that Camille offered me entry into the rear workroom area of her business. The shop had its beginnings as a dry cleaner. Certain aspects of that business had been left intact when Camille had taken the property over. One of those features was the overhead track that with a push of a button delivered clean garments to the area of the store where the paying customer could pick them up. Attached to that overhead device was one now-nude coed. Her wrists were fastened with leather cuffs and the handcuff chain was hooked onto the travel machinery. In its present location Linda's bare toes were just grazing the floor.

The two shop girls were stripped down to what appeared to be neoprene thongs and matching sandals. Camille informed me that this type of fetish wear was one of the ‘back room’ sales items that were even more popular than the everyday couture in the front of the shop. Leather and rubber wear outsold bridal gowns three to one, according to Camille. She introduced the shop girls as Amy and Emma. When their names were spoken each curtsied in my direction. They then returned to the misery they were inflicting upon Linda.

Her nude form was being slathered head to toe with the olive oil used to pack sliced scotch bonnet peppers. Camille informed me that once my portion of Linda’s night of discipline began, this unctuous anointing would prove efficacious in remediation of Linda’s behavior in the future.

My instruction was to make myself comfortable, and when ready to apply ten strokes of a switch to each of six targeted areas. Camille clarified that this would be a total of sixty lashes, ten in each area. Following the administration of this discipline I was to take Linda, brutally and without mercy, in any one of the three orifices available to me. I was not to stop until I was gratified.

I immediately removed my clothing, down to a pair of silk boxer briefs, and then tested the weight, length and flex of the cattle switch offered me for my use.

Amy and Emma had excused themselves to go and wash the peppery oil off of their hands. When they returned each had a Y shaped length of leather with small loops like that of a cowboy’s lariat on the longer ends. Handles graced the shorter ends. These loops were attached one each around Linda’s ankles, then Emma and Amy began walking away from each other until Linda was stretched fully open at the hips, her own body forming an inverted Y. The shop girls were holding tight when I began my portion of the punishment.

Ten lashes each to buttocks, shoulders, breasts, thighs, soles of feet and genitals. Camille had not specified the order of the lashes, just the areas to be flogged. I chose to begin at the shoulders. I asked Camille if Linda’s vow of silence was lifted for punishment and I would like to hear her do the count. Camille told me no, and ball gagged her niece, as she feared the neighbors would be alarmed to hear the screams coming from the disgraced coed. Camille agreed to keep the count.

Standing to Linda’s left I began applying the whip to her right shoulder. I managed to lay five stripes from shoulder to the lowest portion of shoulder blade without overlapping once. I then moved to Linda’s right side and began again, this time using backhand strokes to lay matching patterns of welts on the left shoulder. Linda was in tears and I could see the efficacy of the pepper oil as it seeped into the raw welts.

I motioned to the girls to walk toward me and this lifted Linda so her cuffed hands were supporting her upper body while the soles of her feet were exposed to me. From ball to heel each foot received five lashes. Linda looked as if she would pass out, but her aunt prevented that by taking Linda’s nipples in her hands and pinching them hard enough to make the girl scream behind her ball gag.

I moved to the buttocks for the next target area. I simply laid the switch over both cheeks for five strokes from the left and then moved to the right to repeat the punishment five more times. This time however I allowed myself to criss cross my strokes so that Linda’s buttocks were covered by a series of X-like welts.

Amy and Emma moved further apart, thus opening Linda’s inner thighs to me, and I began administering punishment to that area next. Using only the very tip of the switch, I cut fine lines in each inner thigh from crotch to knee, never once overlapping a stroke.

So as to give the genital punishment more meaning I did not do that while in the area of the thighs, rather I moved myself up to Linda’s 34 C breasts and laid into them by five swift strokes on the upper surface and then five slower strokes from below.

I waited then, with Camille’s permission, both to give my arms a rest and to allow the pain to absorb into Linda’s flesh along with the constant irritant of the peppery oil now mixing with her sweat and running into her wounds.

I had already decided to take the girl anally when I finished her whip punishment. I therefore showed her labia, clitoris and vulva no mercy when I rained down ten lashes directly into the vee of her reproductive valley.

My erection, now a full eight inches long and three solid inches round was ready to penetrate the punished girl and I so told her aunt. Camille told Emma to lubricate Linda for penetration. Emma did so by pouring more of the peppery olive oil onto Linda’s already raw behind and then thrusting two fingers coated with the oils into Linda’s rosebud opening. She stepped away as I stepped up. Linda’s hands were released from the overhead device and then she was bent over a worktable and her hands resecured to its legs. Her feet were similarly secured to the other legs on the table. He bottom was angled at a perfect height for the deed I was to do and I plunged in.

I thrust viciously, hammering my piston like organ in and out of her rear hole until I heard her gasping in a combination of pain and sexual completion. I informed Camille that the girl appeared to be enjoying her punishment too much. Camille laughed and told her niece that she was nothing more than a slutty slave to be used and abused be whomever whenever and that would be her status until she learned to abide by all of her aunt’s rules all of the time without question or hesitation. As I emptied myself into the girl’s rectum, her aunt asked her again did she clearly understand what she was and what she needed to do to grow beyond the status she herself had imposed.

Linda nodded yes. Her aunt removed the ball gag and said tell me what you are. Linda told her aunt she was her aunt’s slutty slave until such time as she had proved herself to be otherwise.

Her aunt then collared Linda officially, with a hammered silver collar that locked into place around the girl’s neck.

What came next for Linda and what I observed on my subsequent visits to Camille’s shop are tales for another day.

End of part 1