Dinner and a Show
by Chessman
Finale
BRUNCH WITH LINDA AND CAMILLE
I had waited two days before venturing back to Design By Camille. My encounter with Linda having taken place late on Saturday, and other business kept me away on both the Sunday and Monday, I returned to the shop hoping the jewelry I has set aside was still unsold.
The bell on the door, advising those working in the rear that a customer had arrived, chirped a bright high pitched tune as I entered. Emma appeared through the curtain-covered archway that led to the shop’s rear. Her attire did not vary much from the last time I had seen her and her co-worker Amy; a neoprene thong bottom and a bandeau top in the same material but a bright green in contrast to the black of the bottom.
Emma smiled when she saw me and told me that Camille had been expecting my return visit. The items I had selected earlier, prior to Linda’s disciplinary session, were in the shop safe awaiting my return for them.
Emma called back to Camille, stating interestingly enough, “Mistress, your gentleman friend is here,” and with that phrase alerting me to the fact that both Emma and Amy were submissives to Camille and not merely work subordinates.
Camille made her appearance in a stylishly cut business suit, beautifully crafted in what appeared to be several layers of opaque material, in a mauve color that was almost as dark as Camille’s skin tone. She smiled and bent to open the shop’s safe and in so doing allowed her skirt to creep up the back of her thighs in such a way that my eyes could not miss the fact she was either “sans culottes” as the French would say or wearing a flesh colored thong beneath the suit.
My manhood stirred at the possibility of either prospect. She rose, not bothering to tug the skirt down, and laid the three selections I had made out on the velvet mat atop her counter.
As I looked at the items I smiled, I should have been aware just from these items that there was a secret business beyond the public one represented by the fifteen feet of shop space in the front of the store.
The first item, a pair of cuff links, was made to appear to be a replica of an ancient coin of Greece or perhaps Persia. On close examination, though, the form of an adult female in fetal position and sucking the thumb of one hand became obvious. Crafted in silver, the links also had traces of gold vermeil where the hair on the woman’s head and pubis were etched. I found the pieces to be subtlety erotic, yet wearable as art and functional as jewelry. There was a woman in my life for which these were destined.
The second item was also a cuff link set. These were of the type that has a straight metal bar passing through the French cuff opening of a shirt and then jeweled studs at the ends of the bar. This type usually also has a safety chain linking the end caps so that if an end cap slips loose the entire link is not lost. The end caps linked by a chain in this set were small feet. The subtle message sent by the piece to those in the life style was a submissive’s spreader bar. Again this would only be obvious on extremely close examination. Camille mentioned as I was looking at this set that several of her clients had purchased this item as a three piece set.
When I screwed my face in non-comprehension, Camille called Amy out of the back and told her to strip. With a, “Yes, mistress,” Amy removed her outfit, which was the reverse of Emma’s, having a black bandeau top and bright lime green bottoms. There, piercing her nipples and clitoris hood, were pieces similar to the ones I had chosen for cuff links. The light of understanding finally blinked on over my head and Camille dismissed Amy. The young girl left, nude, her neoprene outfit still lying on the floor. Camille merely mentioned as an aside, “I had not given her permission to dress. She will not until I tell her I allow it.” I ordered a matching piece to be made to complete my purchase as a proper set.
The last piece I had admired and intended to purchase was a necklace of wrought and hammered silver. A hidden hinge and a secure snap closure made it obvious to those in the life style that this was a submissive/slave collar. What had especiallyattracted me to it was the acid etching work on its outside. The neck collar had to be at least three quarters of an inch wide and was a heavy weight of silver. The etched relief art work on the collar was that of a woman lying down on her back with her head propped up on the hand at the end of an arm which had its elbow where the floor would be and whose bottom leg was outstretched while the upper one was slightly bent and elevated so that the woman’s sex was exposed. This theme was repeated around the eighteen inches of collar and in each of the iconic woman’s pubic regions was set a different semi-precious stone. Camille told me there were twelve images (I later checked this myself and counted twelve) and that each stone was a birthstone for one of the twelve signs of the zodiac. A slave's master or mistress could customize the neck collar with any one stone celebrating either the submissive’s birth month or the month in which she was collared. With that last remark Camille summoned Linda from the rear of the store.
“Show Master Mark your collar, Linda,” Camille ordered her niece, now her submissive/slave. Opening the top buttons of her blouse, Linda approached me. Camille stopped her and corrected her with the words, “How do we properly display merchandise in this shop, Linda?”
The coed stopped as if she were on a leash, which in fact she was, albeit a mental one, and finished unbuttoning the blouse and removed it. A glance at her aunt showed this was not enough and her cheer style shorts and the thong beneath them followed the blouse to the floor. Linda then walked up to me and presented the collar for my inspection. Hers showed the female repeatedly on her stomach with her knees bent so that her bottom was presented. A small amethyst was set into the cleft of each bottom crease. I noted to myself that the month was, indeed February and the stone for that month is amethyst. Linda had been officially collared following my participation in her discipline. I wondered to myself if I had chosen a different orifice in which to penetrate her that night if the collar design would now be different.
Camille dismissed her niece and just as Amy had done she retreated to the rear of the store nude. She also had not been given permission to dress herself.
I purchased the two sets of links (I would take the second set when the last piece for it was created), and placed the small box with the first pair into my pocket. While I had someone special in mind for the neck collar, I wanted it to be fitted on her while she was present within Camille’s shop. I told Camille I would be waiting until then but to reserve a blank, without set stones, with the etchings being a woman on her knees in the position assumed to please a man orally. Camille smiled and agreed to start the work on that project upon her completion of three special orders that were now in the works in the shop.
Business concluded, I was invited to the rear of the shop for a light brunch. Emma was preparing crepes and omelets in the small but well-appointed kitchen. She would serve us while Linda and Amy acted as our tables. Both girls were informed that should any of our food or beverage spill due to the girls not being good furniture, severe discipline would follow. Linda, who was to be my table, went as rigid and unmoving as if she were carved oak. Judging from the barely healing welts I had left on her boys two days before, she had no desire for a repeat of that lashing.
Emma, who was now wearing a French maid’s apron and nothing else, served my plate of crepes and a fluffy omelet with a delightful cheese melted into it. Emma returned seconds later with a chilled champagne flute. Putting the warm plate into the center of Linda’s back, I then placed the champagne flute on one of the cross hatched welts on her buttock. The temperature change and the sensitivity of her bottom caused her to shudder. Despite this nothing spilled. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. I was looking with anticipation to having this minx back on a flogging rack in the near future.
Amy did not make out as well with her mistress. To be fair, Camille tortured the young woman while she ate. I watched as while sipping her champagne with one hand she dipped the other under her ‘table’ to play with its breasts and pinch its nipples. She then tried to find a way to tuck he napkin securely into the cleft of Amy’s bottom, brushing her vagina each time. The girl finally gave in to arousal and shook so hard the plate and flatware on it fell to the shop floor. Fortunately nothing broke.
Camille looked the girl in the eye and told her she was fortunate on three counts. First, Camille had just made a large sale to Master Mark and was therefore in a good mood. Second, her plate was empty and did not break when it fell to the floor and Camille had been holding her flute of sparkling wine when Amy shuddered. Lastly, Camille was in the mood for some bare handed spanking so fifty swats with a bare hand would be Amy’s punishment.
The outer shop bell rang before that session could begin. Camille rose, straightened herself out and exited to deal with her customers. Amy waited, having assumed first position and knowing if she broke it for any reason her punishment would be doubled.
THE MID MORNING SNACK
The intercom between the shop front and the workroom floor buzzed, and Emma speedily answered it, “Yes, ma’am?”
“Tell the girls to tidy up, the Channahon bridal party is here for their fittings,” Camille’s voice sang pleasantly over the speaker, “oh, and tell Mister Chessman to wait, my business with him is not yet completed.”
“Mistress says tidy up. Amy, your discipline shall wait until the Channahon party leaves. The one-piece jumpers are in the closet. Linda, please get three and let’s ready ourselves for business.” Emma had taken charge. I was later to find out that she was the first under Camille’s discipline and was therefore considered to be first girl when Camille was not present. I wondered what business it was that Camille and I had not completed, so I sipped my wine and waited for the bridal party to enter the workshop. Perhaps Camille would have a moment to discuss the matter while the party was being fitted.
Linda slipped the sleeveless one-piece dress over her head and still bare foot, went to the larger client closet off of the workroom and brought out the rolling garment rack labeled Channahon. I was amazed to see what looked to be twenty formal dresses and one additional bridal gown that from the beadwork alone must have cost a normal person’s yearly salary.
Amy and Emma took positions, one at each end of the rack, and when the party began to file into the workroom curtsied to the woman whom must be the mother of the bride and then again to the younger woman who must be the bride herself.
I should have known from the name, but seeing the face that had graced the cover of every publication from US Weekly to Women’s Fitness, I immediately recognized Marie Channahon as one of the power elite within the state and an absolute power in this county.
“As well trained as I remember your help, Camille,” the woman commented. She then turned to look at Linda, who had not made a move to show subservience to the Channahon party. “Who might this little slut be, Camille?”
“My niece and ward, Linda, she is staying with me for a semester to learn the business and expects to return to Fashion Institute of Philadelphia in the Fall, Marie.” Camille quickly put her niece in a slightly higher status than her employees, thus explaining Linda’s perceived breech of protocol.
“Oh, she’s lovely, may I see her properly attired as well as your two girls?” Marie asked in a tone that made me aware that she and Camille shared a bond beyond designer and consumer.
“For this fitting, I believe so, Marie,” Camille responded. Clapping her hands three times and motioning with her finger, Camille mimed shoulder straps shrugged off and three jumper dresses fell at three young pairs of feet.
“Lovely, absolutely lovely. Now who is this male in our presence, Camille, another one of your employees?” Marie asked.
“No, this is the writer I told you about, I think you’ve read some of his works. Marie, this is Mark Chessman. Mark, I’m pleased to introduce Marie Channahon and her daughter Margaret.” Camille stepped aside as I took the two steps needed to close the gap between the stately Marie and taking her hand in mine I kissed her wrist both on the upper and under sides and finished with a light kiss on the palm of her hand.
To say she giggled like a school girl would be an understatement, whether her delight was in the greeting or realizing she was looking at the person who had brought her pleasure in the written words I had produced I could not yet tell. Marie then presented her daughter Margaret to me. To my surprise, Margaret curtsied to me as I kissed only the back of her hand.
The rest of the bridal party held back while this was happening, unsure as to how to proceed. Marie brought that hesitation to a quick end. ”Girls, Camille charges by the hour, I may be rich but I am not foolish. Strip off and find your dresses so these seamstresses may properly fit you.”
At her words, all twenty attendants began removing and stacking their garments until they were all nude and at the garment rack searching for their gowns.
The oldest woman in the bridal party other than the mother of the bride was Margaret’s Matron of Honor. Martha Channahon-Smythe was at least seven months pregnant with twins (as I was later told by Emma), who was busily tending to Martha’s needs.
Camille saw that the three girls were handling the crowd of women quite well, and after offering Marie a flute of champagne, walked over to me. “Marie is a Dom, as you may have deduced,” Camille began, ”and her two daughters are learning to take that role on now that they are starting families of their own.”
“The bridal party is cousins and girlfriends of the bride. The two wee ones over there,” Camille nodded in the direction of a group of four tweens, two much less developed than the slightly older girls with them, ”are the daughters of Aaron Channahon, Marie’s only son. The older two tweens are the Garibaldi girls. Marie has raised them from the time they were six and almost five respectfully after her sister Bernice was killed with her husband Armando in a private plane crash. Marie has never allowed any of her children, including the Garibaldi girls, to wear a stitch of clothing in the Channahon mansion. Whatever season, whatever visitors or company may be present, the girls and Aaron were nude. A healthy attitude I would have adopted for my own children, if I had been blessed with any. Linda arrived on my doorstep too well formed by her late parents for me to adopt that style of parenting. However; this rebellious period at college has given me the opportunity to show her what a disciplined life can be.” Marie smiled as she watched her niece and the other two shop girls go about the fittings.
The reason for the bridal party starting in bare skin became obvious to me as I watched each layer be applied to each woman present. Corsets and panties specially designed to fit into and remain hidden under the gowns were being fitted to each girl. Stockings and garters to match were also in the ensemble. Of course the dresses were simply elegant, and then dyed-to-match shoes and shawl-type wraps were perfectly blended into each girl’s outfit. Jewelry was also provided and was understated perfectly to the outfit. A solitaire pendant necklace, a matching tennis bracelet and a wristwatch with a strap dyed to match the gown were all the girls needed to accent the beautiful dresses.
Marie Channahon had expected Camille to attend to her personally, yet Linda working to clothe her seemed to satisfy her very well. The fact that Marie kept slipping her hand between Linda’s legs and then lifting her fingers to her nose and mouth was not lost on my attention either. I expected Camille’s niece and the two shop girls would be paying attention of a different kind to this bridal party as soon as the wedding day garments were off and hung away.
“This wedding is in three weeks, Mark,” Camille said to me in low voice, “Linda will help me dress the wedding party on that day. My problem is once the event is over, Linda needs to get back to school or she will lose her enrolment. I have arranged for her to attend both summer sessions to make up the work from this semester, and she’ll be back on track with her class for the Fall term. I do not want her living in the dorm any longer and I don’t want her out on her own either. Would you be willing to take her into your house and keep a short leash on her?”
“Camille, I’ll keep her collared and leashed and naked at my feet if that is what you want. When I’m not at home I’m sure Greta will also take an interest in her care and discipline.” My response was toned neutrally, but, I could sense that Camille was excited by the prospect of Greta, my long time companion/lesbian roommate being there to assure Linda was not allowed to slack off into the ways that had led to her suspension.
“Very well, in five weeks, she will be all yours. Amy will drive her down to your townhouse. I do not want her to have an automobile at her disposal just yet. Will that make it difficult for you or Greta?” Camille asked.
“No, I write, so my schedule is flexible. If I’m busy on deadline, Greta can drive her to campus and pick her up when she is finished for the day. I’m guessing, though, that if she passes this probationary period some of your restrictions will be lifted?”
“We’ll see. Amy doesn’t know it yet, but I’m leaving her discipline for today’s accident in your hands and your time. I would think she will be sufficiently nervous about delivering Linda to you if we do nothing about it until then.” Camille smiled and walked back to the wedding party, most of whom were again nude or mostly so. I noticed Camille paying particularly close attention, hands on attention, to the Garibaldi sisters. Where that might be leading was between Marie Channahon and Camille, although neither of the girls seemed too upset by the petting caresses they were receiving.
BANQUETING AT THE RECEPTION
It was short notice, but I was pleased when Camille called me four days before the Margaret Channahon wedding to tell me her invitation was a ‘Plus One” and she wished for me to be the one.
Amy and Emma, along with Linda, Camille’s niece, would be working the wedding and reception as the bridal party dressers. There were three changes of clothing for the bride and two for the remainder of the bridal party. All in all, dressing the party and the changes would be a full days work for the three assistants. Camille would make sure all garments and accessories were delivered to the hall where the event was to take place. She then would be free to attend the ceremony and the reception with a companion. She had chosen me to be that companion.
I looked over at Greta who was clad only in the three-piece stud and bar set I’d chosen for her on my initial visit to Camille’s shop, and I told her of Camille’s invitation. The smile on Greta’s face was priceless. Her words then were, “And then we get the niece as a live in and that assistant to discipline, how lovely, go and enjoy yourself and be sure to bring me a present.”
Greta was the perfect roommate. She wanted the taste of a master’s whip and the disciplined life of a subservient; however, her traits were pure dominatrix when it concerned women. She had sex with me because she ‘had to’. She dominated, seduced and consumed women because she wanted to. To that end I never concerned myself with her sexual satisfaction. She was there to please me. Totally and without reserve she was there to please and serve me. What she needed she could get elsewhere form someone else it mattered not. She wore my collar and she now wore my piercings where once she wore jewelry of her own choosing. I was quite clear that anything the ‘cat’ brought home was also mine to play with. The variety was endless and her taste in women eclectic.
Camille had requested I wear a white dinner jacket and formal trousers, and then asked my size shirt. I told her and she said she would have one made up for me as a special gift and would give it to me when I arrived to pick her up at her shop.
Carrying my formal gear in a garment bag, I arrived wearing cargo shorts and a Hawaiian shirt and sandals. The day had dawned in the upper seventies and had progressed to almost ninety by mid afternoon. We had had such heat waves in mid April before, but this one had come in and lay on the area for the past three days. The wedding day was not only hot but humid. I hoped Camille’s creations would hold up through the afternoon and evening events the mother of the bride had planned.
When I saw the shirt I almost let out an audible gasp. Pearl gray, with tuck pleated front and stiff formal wing tip collar, it matched the gown Camille had fashioned for herself exactly. She had used the same fabric to create both garments and she confessed to me she had made a thong for herself from the same material and was wearing it beneath the gown. (It was obvious there was no bra beneath the bodice of her dress.) She had also made me pewter shirt studs and cuff links for the shirt. Up close you could tell they represented a young woman’s upturned bottom. A small garnet was mounted in the cleft of the cheeks. These devices, almost a perfect match to Linda’s collar, were an eerie way of linking me to her. If this was symbolic of turning the niece over to my discipline formally, Camille made no mention of it.
We arrived at the hall and were seated on the bride’s side of the facility where the ceremony was to be held. Camille had done a marvelous job on the gowns all the women in the wedding, from the eight year old flower girls to the mother of the bride all were elegantly attired and accessorized and walked the aisle as beautifully as runway models.
The usual readings, the exchanging of vows, and legal promises were made. Then the clergywoman who was officiating turned to the assembled audience and shed her clerical robe.
Camille whispered to me, “She is the ministerial head of the Church of The Sky Clad Goddess. I’m surprised she went this far into the ceremony before this happened.” I was not, therefore shocked to see the spiritual advisor of the couple standing in nothing more than a g-string and a full body suit of tattoos.
The nearly nude woman proceeded with the ceremony, “As is our tradition in the Church, a woman presenting herself for marriage is presumed to have a pre-nuptial agreement which states she will bring nothing paid for by her parents be it money, clothing, jewelry or clothing into her new marriage or home. Margaret, are you sullied by any such thing today and do you in the presence of these witnesses wish to purify yourself before finalizing your vows with your husband to be?”
Turning to the assembled audience, Margaret spoke clearly and without a trace of nerves. “I have accepted gifts from my parents in the form of this veil,” she handed it off to her sister, the maid of honor. “Also these gloves,” she peeled the pearl-buttoned elbow high gloves off and handed them to a flower girl. Now would come the commitment, ”Also this gown,” her mother Maria Channahon stepped forward and unbuttoned the seven pearl buttons down her daughter’s back. Margaret then stepped out of the gown and her mother took it from her. High heel shoes, garter belt and thigh high sheer hosiery were all that remained. Margaret kicked off her shoes, “These as well,” she said as she handed them to her other flower girl. “My husband to be gave me these rings, this necklace, this garter belt and these hose. If he now wants them back I shall give them gladly and our relationship will end here today. If he allows me to keep that which he has given me I promise to serve and nurture him from this day forth.”
Todd Dunphy wisely stated to the congregation and to his intended wife, “I honor you with all I have given, and I give you my heart as well. I pledge that your possessions shall increase and our love will continue to grow.”
The minister pronounced them husband and wife. The bridal party filed out and the bride and groom entered an adjoining door into the reception hall where they formed the traditional greeting line with their parents.
I felt nothing could shock me after this point. The reception proved me to be mistaken. My expectation had been the bride would be clothing herself at the end of the ceremony in preparation for an evening of dining and dancing. Dine and dance she did, but get clothed? Not a stitch more than the garter belt and hose she wore down the aisle as Mrs. Todd Dunphy. In fact, as the night wore on and the hose took runs in them, she removed them.
Before that, the presentation of the wedding party occurred as the master of ceremonies introduced the party in reverse order, beginning with the flower girls. No one in the reception hall appeared to be shocked as the eight year olds entered the hall nude except for well applied latex body paint in a shade of blue that was perfect for their skin tone. A bikini bottom had been stylized onto each of them and matching flowers adorned their head curls.
The two junior bridesmaids, the Garibaldi girls, were next entering the room. They were also nude, except no body paint was applied to them. They wore crowns of plaited flowers on their heads and each had a garter on one thigh with flowers inserted beneath the garter holding the flower stems. If either of them had begun to grow pubic hair, there was none in evidence on either. They were smooth over their entire bodies. (I later learned that the garter and flowers, as well as the body painted bikini bottoms on the younger children, were meant as signals that the girls were virgins and were not to be touched beyond kissing and caressing them.)
The bridesmaids entered wearing only their headpieces and carrying their bouquets. Two of them wore garters similar to those worn by the Garibaldi girls. The ushers/companions with them wore thongs made of the same material as my shirt and Camille’s gown.
When the very pregnant matron of honor, Margaret’s sister, entered, the room gasped. Martha was draped in a knee length, button-less vest, her head piece and flowers being worn by her eighteen month old daughter Charlotte. Charlotte was wearing nothing else and was the youngest nude in the hall.
It was then that the master of ceremonies invited the assembled guests who wished to do so to ‘join the bridal party in more comfortable attire.”
Camille was down to her g-string and heels in less than fifteen seconds. Two buttons on her bodice when opened gave her the ability to simply puddle the fabric at her feet and step out of it. I was a bit longer in getting down to ‘proper attire’. I noticed the parents of the bride and groom had joined the wedding party with both mothers wearing not a stitch. The fathers looked as if the gym had been regularly visited by both of them for a few months prior to the wedding.
Margaret and Todd danced their first dance and it was obvious to everyone that Todd had become aroused by it. His erection had to have been a good eight inches long when the music finished playing. Spoons were banging on water glasses as the guests noticed the groom’s arousal. Instead of the usual kiss, traditional at such moments, Todd bent his bride over a chair back and proceeded to penetrate her. The cheering of the guests was loud enough to drown out the moans Margaret made as she was worked to her first orgasm of her married life.
The dance with her father in law ended with him having her as well. When her father danced with her he chose to orally bring his daughter to orgasm, as did the groom’s mother and Margaret’s sister Marie.
The lucky bachelor who caught the garter belt Margaret had been wearing since the wedding ceremony also was offered his choice of satisfaction with the lucky bridesmaid who had caught Margaret’s bouquet.
Todd positively glowed when it was announced that it was time for Margaret’s first paddling as a married woman. He sat in a straight-backed chair and took his bride over his knees. With a flat bare hand he spared nothing as he slapped her bare bottom twenty-two times. She spent the rest of the night walking from table to table greeting her guests and showing off her well used vulva and her well abused rear end.
I watched as Todd’s father took Marie and Todd’s mother similarly was welcomed into the family by Marie’s husband. I of course had taken Camille soon after we removed our clothing and was now eyeing s particularly gorgeous red head with a fiery red patch of pubic hair and freckles head to foot. I learned she was Todd Dunphy’s cousin Edna, was twenty-seven, single and quite submissive. Camille seemed to know everything about everyone. Much better, I thought, to be Camille’s friend than her enemy.
I had only just finished a pleasurable if not leisurely bout of sex with Edna when the master of ceremonies announced, “You don’t have to go home, but you cannot stay here.”
Camille and I dressed, I drove her back to the shop and we said our good-byes. I would be seeing Amy and Linda in less than two weeks. I could not wait.
AN ORDER OF LINDA TO GO
We changed plans slightly. Amy, who was to have driven Linda to my town house just outside of Philadelphia, was needed in the shop due to a particularly expensive rush job, so Greta and I traveled back to the city to pick Linda up and to complete my business with Amy. We walked through the shop door and Camille was behind the counter speaking to a woman who was looking at jewelry.
“These will work perfectly for your daughter’s Prom, Agnes. Linked together they are as secure as a chastity belt and far more comfortable for the woman wearing them.” Camille sealed the deal of the sale and the woman left the shop with a small bag of very expensive body jewelry.
“Agnes has a sixteen year old who is going to Prom this weekend. The girl has already had her labia pierced six times and has studs in the holes now. Agnes just bought three sets of bars, which she will use to close over the labia and make vaginal intercourse impossible. That was the only way she agreed to let the girl go to Prom with the boy who asked her out. He is a varsity letterman in three sports and his fourth sport seems to be bedding junior varsity cheerleaders.” Camille smiled and then said, “Agnes is not ready to be a grandmother, but I suppose her daughter’s anus and mouth are not off limits.”
Mental images of my own Prom nights came forth and I realized that Agnes was probably a wise mother. I had dated the same girl throughout high school. Roberta was a tall, underdeveloped red head with freckles everywhere, still to this day my favorite body type, and our hormone addled brains thought we were in love. She was a sophomore when I took her to my junior prom. We both lost our virginity that night. The night of her junior prom, I as a senior escorted her and after the dinner and dancing I had her anally for the first time. A week later she and I took a room together and after only a brief appearance at it for pictures, spent the rest of the weekend in that room in every position two people could possibly get into sexually.
The night of her senior prom, I dined and danced with her; however, as a college freshman away at school I came home to find she had been with another boy from her graduating class and was four months pregnant. She hadn’t started to show yet and would graduate in two weeks with the secret still in place. She was marrying the boy right after graduation. “Yes,” I thought, “Agnes was a very wise woman indeed.”
To Camille I said, “Camille, this is my companion, Greta,” Greta curtseyed and Camille offered a hand for her to kiss.
“Greta very much likes the jewelry you created for her, and I would like for the final offering to be readied for wear today if you please.” I said to Camille following the introductions.
Camille nodded and led us to the rear of the shop. Amy and Emma were busy at a cutting table with patterns on top of fabric preparing the cloth beneath for cutting. Both were wearing neoprene cheer shorts and matching halter-tops. Camille’s niece Linda was wearing a simple cotton pleated micro mini skirt and matching halter-top. Simple in that the pleats hid the fact the material was sheer and with every move the coed made brief flashes of her bottom and vaginal region came to light. The halter of the same sheer fabric showed off her areolas and eraser pointed nipples quite clearly. They were exposed so clearly that the rings through her nipples were perfectly visible. Her collar was holding up the front of the halter-top. The small hem in the halter fabric had been run through the collar making a part of the top itself.
“Very interesting design,” I mentioned to Camille, looking at her niece.
“This is the rush order we are working to complete, Mark,” Camille told me, ”There is an in-water boat show in Atlantic City in a few weeks and one of the casinos has commissioned these outfits for the show girls to wear while they model on and around the boats. Linda is wearing the prototype. The casino executives should be here in twenty minutes to grant final approval and from then it is a rush to complete the fifty costumes and the matching pasties and g-strings the law requires the models to have on under such sheer wear.”
“So we shall wait until after the casino people leave before we take Linda back with us,” I stated. “And I shall discipline Amy at your convenience.”
“Actually, I would like you to do that as part of the entertainment for the executives, Mark,” Camille whispered, “This casino specializes in hiring submissive females for their floor staff and entertainers. I think a showing of people of like mind might cement this business deal.”
Camille opened her jewelry safe withdrew a velvet pouch containing the collar I had selected for Greta. Telling her to submit herself, Greta removed the simple dress she was wearing and was immediately naked. She knelt before me and in the presence of witnesses, Camille and the three girls, offered this statement, “Master Mark, I freely and willingly accept my position as your submissive and accept this collar as a symbol of my status in your household until such time as you release me from it.”
With that I removed the leather buckle-on collar that we had used for several years from her neck and replaced it with the permanent locking silver one. I noted that the mouth of the woman depicted upon the collar had a London blue topaz set into each of the twelve icons. The new silver collar went beautifully against Greta’s deeply olive tanned skin and complimented the three bars she wore in her nipples and clitoris hood.
I gave her permission to don her dress again and she quickly snapped shut the front panel after lifting it off the floor. I told Camille I wanted a similar dress made for Greta as she was now wearing but in the fabric that the girls were working with for the casino contract. Taking my wallet from my pocket I put a deposit down on the garment.
Greta is a shade less than six feet tall, and is a very athletically firm, dress size fourteen. Her hair falls to her mid back when unpinned and as I have said previously, she prefers women to men and has sex only with me as she became my submissive well before she decided that munching carpet was more fun than sucking dick.
As my number one girl in residence she had full power over any other submissive I brought into the house and I had given her permission to bring home her own conquests, with the proviso that I would have access to any woman who darkened my doorstep. Most of her companions tended to be unhappily married women who went both ways in bed and eagerly submitted to the both of us.
Greta had come to me when she was a graduate intern, doing the semester of work experience required for her degree in the firm that publishes my novels and short stories. She was to edit the proofs of my fourth novel. She read the first three books as a requirements to understand my style and content, and after reading chapter three of the new book, 'Flames and Embers' she had quietly told me that she had the same desires to submit to a dominant male as the female protagonist had expressed in her dream sequence that occupied most of that chapter.
I had told her it could be arranged. If she stripped naked there and then and went to her knees begging for my dominance in her life. The rest as they say is written history. I married her for the simple reason of insuring my assets would pass to her should I die first and to give us each the ability to care for the other in case of a medical emergency. Soon after she submitted to me we learned that a childhood illness had left her sterile. We had no children, yet the lifestyle we lead would have made children problematical anyway.
We have been together for twelve years and she has edited my last five novels. (I try to get one out every eighteen months or so.) Often she will sit, nude and fresh from love making, on a burgundy plush towel, campfire style at my feet, with the pages I have written that day and a red pencil, a blue pencil and yellow highlighter and work on my manuscript while I hack away on the next chapters on the computer. I consider our life together full and richly rewarding. She has told me in words and deeds this is the life she craved and she is happiest when serving me. At thirty-four she is a raving beauty and would make a doting mother. I am going to suggest adoption after my next book is published.
This reverie had taken place while Camille answered the door and spoke with her clients in the outer shop. She’d locked the front door and hung a “Closed For Private Fittings” sign on it then escorted her guests to the rear workroom.
They seated themselves in five wing back leather chairs and listened intently to the presentation of Camille’s designs and conceptual ideas for the boat show costuming. Three of the executives were men. Aged mid forties to early fifties and wearing suits appropriate to the season, they sat and listened almost bored by having to be there. The older woman executive was the casino’s event planner. It was she who would have to deal with the fifty young women parading about the yachts, boats and dinghies in the costumes Camille was creating. The last woman, much younger than the rest, was the casino choreographer. Apparently there was some dance routines the showgirls would be performing as part of the boat show. She had to be sure that the outfits were dance ready and would move with the girls as they performed.
Amy and Emma came forward first to show the ‘working costume’ of cheer shorts and halter-top to the five casino representatives. They were asked to bend, stretch, do a leg kick or two, pirouette and do several other moves before the event planner and choreographer were satisfied and approved those outfits for the showgirls who would be dancing.
Linda came out next wearing the pleated skirt and halter-top ensemble, but now with pasties and a thong added. This would be the greeter/hostess outfit and Linda was also wearing four-inch heels to show the executives how the outfit moved with a woman in heels wearing it. She went through the activities of serving drinks, doing the waitress knee bend and carrying a tray back and forth. She stood behind a lectern, sat in a chair and generally showed the outfit off for a working costume. Linda’s prototype was white. The younger of the men asked if the same fabric was available in yellow and teal, the casino’s corporate colors, and if several interchangeable outfits could be made, so that a girl could have a teal top and yellow skirt for the morning and reverse the color scheme for the afternoon. The casino also wanted the same outfit done in a black satin for the after dark activities at the boat show.
Camille had already taken these possibilities in consideration and Amy and Emma quickly peeled out of their cheer short outfits, in front of the executives, and donned skirts and tops identical to the one Linda wore, save for the teal and gold motif.
The deal was sealed and Camille asked the five to stay for some special entertainment. Linda went to the left side of the workroom, brought back a barstool with a padded seat and back but no arms and set it in front of the five chairs.
I went and sat on the bar stool and waited while Camille told the five, “One of my girls has performed less than satisfactorily and is to be punished. If you wish you may witness her discipline.” None of the five moved.
Amy, on cue, came to stand beside me and disrobed. “I spilled my mistress’ lunch plate and I am to receive fifty hand delivered slaps on my bare bottom. Mr. Chessman shall administer my punishment,” Amy recited to the group. She then crawled onto my lap and presented for punishment nicely.
“Count for me, and for every stroke you miss count on you get two additional,” I commanded.
She did not miss a single count, from “One thank you, Sir,” to “Fifty, thank you, Sir”. She also held back her tears until she was dismissed. From inside the rest room with the door closed her sobbing was almost as loud as if she was in the same room.
I motioned Greta to go and care for and comfort Amy. The sounds coming from the rest room soon changed from wails to moans, and the moans were of pleasure, not pain.
Several minutes later, just before the deals having been signed and the executives being ready to leave the shop, Greta brought Amy out for the final portion of her punishment, her display. Amy stood; hands behind her head and posture perfectly erect and slowly turned so that her posterior was on display for inspection. Asking permission to speak, Greta said, ”My Master has done admirable work, see how already the buttocks are turning from red to purple! This girl will be magnificently bruised for several weeks.”
With that she returned to my side. I could smell the scent of Amy’s vaginal fluids on Greta’s breath. I would have to take action over that. I had told her to care and comfort, I said nothing about bringing to climax. From the look in her eyes though, Greta knew exactly what she was doing and why.
Shortly after the executives departed and Camille put her packet of signed documents safely away in her desk, Linda returned to the workroom carrying two pieces of luggage. One large suitcase contained her school clothing, which I would have final approval over before she left the house. Within the house and the yard she was to be nude. Clothing was appropriate only for classes and school activities.
The other case held her lap top computer, several school texts for the first of two summer session courses, and a framed photograph of her parents.
Linda thanked Camille for her second chance and Camille transferred authority of her niece to me for the duration of her school year. Linda simply stated, “I accept you as my master and will obey your rules.”
The End
READER: The story ends here but new beginnings start here as well…look for Linda’s further misadventures during her summer session classes, coming soon… Mark Chessman