From Jeannie To Vanessa Ch 06

Author's note. These are not stand alone stories. If you haven't read chapters 1 through 5, please go back and read them first, or this chapter will make no sense.

******

Chapter 6: Oh, what a night.

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 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 amazing 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 bedside table. I had rummaged a little bit and found makeup remover to clean off my existing "look" and then replaced it with a frosty white lipstick and silvery eye-shadow and matching blush.

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 (and, I noticed, low fat) 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 raped," 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 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 really 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 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 a violent non-consensual attack - 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 reconciliation really happen? You crossed a pretty big line with her."

Jack turned his gaze on me. "I think 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 become pretty passive, fascinated with Jack's retelling of our story.

"DeeDee convinced me that Jack had used Rick to hurt me - 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, with one arm casually draped across my shoulders. The snow queen, dressed in white, contrasting with - the Domme - dressed in black. Edgar served the 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.

We all put the empty glasses down, and Edgar promptly refilled them.

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, just very 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 objection, or direction.

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, 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 slipped down to my knees in front of her, and my lips sought her nipples and my hands were squeezing and fondling the fleshy globes.

I heard Jack stand up - 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 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 witnessed...it 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.