The Bag Lady and the Domme

Introduction: Clarissa, ex-boarding school friend and model, had been taken in by Jessica Harmondon-Smithers her long lost friend who was now a successful businesswoman in an apparently sexless marriage with Jonathan (Johnnie). Clarissa had told her a fantastic tale of abduction of herself and another down-at-heel tramp called Maggie, by a shadowy and perverted organisation called The Group. She had demonstrated her degradation and submission to them by putting Jessica through the same process, but eventually has come clean to tell her friend and by now lover the true story and the plan that The Group has for Jessica. However, Mrs Harmondon-Smithers has been rocked by these revelations, the week of unbridled debauchery and lesbian play she has indulged in, and now faces the prospect of her maid Anya returning from leave together with at some point her husband whom she loves but can no longer understand. What can she do now? How does she react to her new sexual awakening and the fact that she does not want to lose Clarissa Stocks-Johnson from her life again?

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I had needed to think hard about the ramifications of all that had happened in the past week. This had not been the vacation I had expected, far from it. To help me reflect I had put Clarissa in the spare guest suite, away from me for a whole 24 hours. It had been so difficult, just seeing her for short periods of time, her lithe naked body padding across the landing or bathed in a silk robe as she helped herself to food. I did not even dine with her, so important was it to me that I have my thinking time. However, nothing could stop the insatiable 'itch' that needing scratching. I knew I could not go back, only forward. I was an insatiably sexually demanding and dominant female. It had been expressed via my work, and perhaps in my early marriage, but I needed more; much more. I needed Clarissa to love and adore me, I wanted to explore the secret world of The Group and to be, as they had made explicit in a letter that had arrived, a member of their 'executive' with full privileges.

I had trawled the secure internet site that featured The Group, its constitution and its practices. Some of them I knew were not for me, but I was constantly drawn to the features on bi-sexual play and not just of the women, but the men at play too. I thought of Johnnie and my fantasy, which had become a recurring dream whenever I dozed off. This had been often in the past hours, as a type of exhaustion seemed to have overtaken me until that point where the decision was made.

"Hello!" came the disconnected voice from below. "Mrs Harmondon-Smithers?"

I recognised the thick Czech accent of my maid. She was back! Well, I smiled to myself; she was in for a treat. I dashed to Clarissa's room, pushing open the door to be greeted by an amazing sight. My lover, my submissive, my best friend was up on all fours, her arse facing me and her fingers plunging in and out of her sopping wet pussy. I had no time for this.

"Get up you slut! Anya is here. I want you in the kitchen in 10 minutes sharp. You are to come down the stairs, naked. I hope you have shaved your pussy as I want you to come sit on one of the bar stools with your legs open, like the slut you are. Got it?"

I could see she had been interrupted right at the height of her pleasure. I laughed, then scowled, as she failed to answer me.

"Got it?" I snapped, using an imperious tone.

"Yes, er, yes Mistress," she replied, her voice weak and quavering.

'Good,' I thought, 'that will make her more hungry for what I have planned.'

"10 minutes, no more, no less."

I walked fast, almost ran, back to my room and reached for the silk robe I had placed out for myself that morning. I was suddenly aware of my breasts swinging freely, the cool on my shaven pussy and the delightful feeling of being totally naked on this wonderful warm day in England. No, I was the mistress of the house, why did I need to dress in front of my staff?

I walked silently down the gently curving spiral staircase, a massive feature of this multi-million pound house to make a grand entrance into the hall. Anya was at the bottom of the stairs, bent over looking into her bags. I could never fathom why she needed so many suitcases when she went home to her village near Prague. However, that was the least of my thoughts as I was currently being presented with long slim legs, so straight and well muscled. They were topped by diaphanous white panties encasing the most beautiful bottom. Her dark blue skirt was so short it had failed miserably to hide the lovely peachy bum cheeks of a classically beautiful Czech woman.

"Nice view!" I said, instantly feeling wetness seep between my engorging labia. I knew I was excited, not least by the sensuality of being naked, but even more so knowing this woman lusted after me and was now going to get turned on by me, her employer and ergo, her naked Mistress.

She snatched at the hem of her skirt, suddenly aware like a schoolgirl still not confident with her sexuality that it was too short and tried to pull it down as she stood and turned towards me. She was rooted there, mouth open, her right hand subconsciously straying to brush at her breast, her left to hover over her pussy area. I smiled, keeping direct contact with her wide open eyes. So beautiful, I realised. Her nipples were hardening behind the bright yellow T-shirt she wore and her tongue was gently wetting her full lips. I watched those sexy eyes scan my nudity, taking in my large breasts, my motherly hips and the blatant sexuality of my shaven pussy. She was banqueting on my beauty, something I had at last admitted to myself. I was not only beautiful, but powerful too, and I was going to seize all the advantages to be taken from those facts.

"Come, come greet your Mistress," I invited warmly, holding open my arms as I advanced towards her, giving her no time to back away or evade my clutches. I pressed myself to her, giving her a kiss on the lips that was totally unambiguous and feeling our large breasts press hard against each other. But then I broke away. "Come to the kitchen, let's hear about your visit home and your journey," I continued, giving her absolutely no choice that she was coming to sit down.

I held her hand, which she gripped extremely tightly I noticed, and led her to sit at the big oak table in the kitchen. I fussed about getting the tea and some croissants organised, ensuring that she was able to watch me at all times. I knew my pussy was glistening and my teats were rock hard with arousal. I'm sure the air was thick with the smell of my pussy and if I was not mistaken her bouquet was beginning to meld with mine. She was silent, unable to speak.

"I hope you don't mind my nakedness?" I asked, standing right in front of her as I played with my nipples in a gesture designed to draw her eyes to my engorged tits. I didn't wait for an answer, but urged her on. "So what have you got up to in the past few weeks?"

"I-I-I just saw my folks for the first few days," she faltered, her eyes never leaving my breasts now as I continued to play with the nipples, teasing her. "Then I went to stay with Ludmilla, the au pair who works with the Columbines at number 12?"

"Ah yes, the one with the extremely perky breasts? Always wears a tight T-shirt and no knickers under her extremely short skirts? Is that the one?" I enquired in as matter-of-fact way as I could muster, while internally even more turned on as I thought about that sexy girl.

"Er, I don't know about..."

I put a finger to my lips, gesturing her to be silent, and then spoke. "It's alright; you are with me now. I've noticed her many times and a friend saw her finger-fucking someone in the bushes by the Lido. I do not approve of that behaviour," I said sternly, then continued. "Leaving children unattended whilst she fucks is just not on. Surely one of you could have minded for her, or were you fucking too?"

She was silent, head slightly bowed though her eyes still were fixed on my tits.

"I'll take that as a yes?"

"Yes, ah, no...it depends..."

"It depends on what precisely?" I asked, sensing blood as I put on my most dominant voice. I waited out the silence.

"It depends on whether it was Gerta. She was my Swedish lover but she left for Gothenburg 6 months ago and besides..."

She trailed off, as if she could not bring herself to say the next bit. I stirred her tea, knowing she liked two sugars, and waited for her reply. I was not going to speak first.

She burst into tears, just at the moment that Clarissa entered the room, naked and looking so beautiful with the sun streaming in from the garden onto her stunning model's body. God those tits with their big rings piercing the teats, wow! I gestured her to sit on one of the bar stools that meant she was raised above my maid and only a few feet away. She knew exactly what to do, keeping her knees well apart. She put her feet on the lower rest, just like a guitar player, although with her posture it would have been a cello that fitted better.

Anya had not noticed her, the tears were streaming from her eyes. I stood beside her, bending to clutch her head to my bosom and gave her soft words of encouragement; willing her to get the deep hurts and sadness out of her.

"There, there, hold me tightly...Besides what?" I coaxed, urging her to say more, while I pressed my hot breasts closer to her.

She sniffled, "I fell in love with another woman...it just happened...but she did not want me...er...did not know I loved her and it just got tense with Gerta. She knew something was going on."

I let my hand stroke her back, with every stroke circling lower and lower, until I was touching the small of her spine and the tops of that firm arse. Meanwhile my breasts were thrust into her face, the nipple of my left breast almost offered to her soft pouting lips. I felt the dribble of my juice down my inner thigh. Yes, I could smell her bouquet, pungent in the air as it mixed less subtly now with mine. She was aroused and yet sad, such a submissive quality. Ok, let's go for it.

"It was me you fell in love with, wasn't it?" I asked gently.

I heard her gasp, her heart almost stopping I guessed. I also heard Clarissa sigh, not with resignation but something else I sensed. More silence, as my hand continued its caress and my naked breasts wanted her to suckle on me like a mother soothing her newborn.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, as if a great weight had just been lifted from her heart, and her arms encircled my nakedness, just as a child might when running to mummy for safety. And in my impulsive, motherly state, I grasped my breast; pushing the teat into her mouth, urging her to suck as pulses like little electric shocks radiated out from that tit and then converged to focus on my clitoris which was no longer hidden. I let my hands roam freely over her as she suckled, sliding to her front and grasping her ample right tit in my hand. I liked its firmness the achingly hard nipple that was clearly pierced with a small ring of some description. All this as she continued to suck on me as if she could draw milk. 'If only she could,' I thought, but then I was distracted by another idea, 'I need to take firm control'. It took a lot of willpower, believe me.

I broke away, prising her mouth from my teat, leaving a string of saliva that eventually broke as I moved. My wet nipple was so engorged there was no way I could hide my pleasure, but I had other things to accomplish. I stood up, unblocking the view of Clarissa who like the faithful slut she was had her legs wide apart to show her perfectly shaven pussy, its lips engorged and her clitoris unmistakeably outside its little folds with the gold bar stretching the bloated head. The jewellery at her labia glistened in the sun. 'Beautiful,' I caught myself thinking, again.

Anya stared past me, shocked. Then I saw that familiar glint in her eye that I now knew to be lust. She was a slut! One minute I was her total source of love and devotion and then along comes another honey pot to dip into. I laughed, smiling madly at them both.

"Anya, meet Clarissa," I announced. "She is my submissive little slut and if you accept my proposition you will happily share our life with her. She is staying here and will be treated as my guest but also shared as a plaything."

Anya stood, Clarissa maintained her position. How obedient I realised Clarissa was, so well trained. The Czech extended her hand to greet my subbie, but I was not allowing such a formal greeting.

"Clarissa, give Anya a hug and greet her in the way I want you to greet each other."

I saw a slight frown on Clarissa's brow, as if unsure, but then her eyebrows raised and it dawned on her. She knew exactly what to do. She was like the Venus Fly Trap. As Anya approached, getting closer between her still open legs, she grasped the outstretched hand, smiling. Then her legs closed around my maid and she pulled her firmly to her, planting at the same time a hard, erotic kiss on her lips that Anya was unlikely to forget. Believe me, that model's kisses are unbelievably sensual and erotic. And she kept her there in that embrace, her hands sliding over the young woman's body, and ending up grasping her arse cheeks as she said, "Welcome to Mistress's perfect world. We are both her slaves, to do with as she likes, yes?"

"I - I - don't..."

"She has not heard my conditions yet, Clarissa," I interjected, my tone slightly scolding. I continued, noticing that my subbie was still holding her in that tight embrace, her fingers slipping quietly under the white diaphanous drawers to touch somewhere now wet with her juice and Anya was accepting it; moving into her, and opening her legs to give greater access.

"Stop kissing her, slut," I snapped, not addressing it to one of them in particular as they both could hold that title. They stopped, with my maid turning her head awkwardly to pay attention to me. I continued. "Anya, I know you have wanted me for some time and I did not notice. However, if you do want me there are conditions as to how you can achieve that. There will be rules, as follows: One, you are to go naked around the house except when the children are home but in front of my husband when he is here. Two, you are to be smoothly shaven on and around your cunt at all times. Three you are to be available as a slave to others (male and female) as I command. Four, you will accept that you will not work here for free but will take your regular salary plus 10%. The fifth condition is that you undertake to maintain absolute secrecy but also will scout for new recruits, especially from those gorgeous nannies you work with. Do you accept the terms?"

Anya broke away from Clarissa, turning fully to face me. I had not expected what happened next, but silently she took the hem of her T-shirt in her hands and lifted it over her head. I watched as her ample breasts, now released from their binding, bounced like jelly moulds so wonderfully in front of me, then settled. So firm, so pert with pierced nipples adorned with little rings of gold. I sighed with desire, even more so as the teats were huge and erect. I had not realised this from just feeling them, but they were wide and now extremely long. Perfect. Then the skirt was unzipped and the tiny hook untied. She let it drop to the floor and stood there in just the white panties which, given their diaphanous material, had no function other than aesthetics. Her pussy was jet black and sprouting around the knickers. It hid her sex. I did not like that. I had noticed too as she raised her arms how the hair bushed copiously in her armpits. However, on this score I was changing my mind.

"Anya, you are to keep your underarm hair, but that bush is shameful! However, I add a sixth condition. In summer you will wear sleeveless tops so that your armpits are on show," I said, smirking to myself as I knew as a woman how that would be an embarrassment to her, but a turn-on for many men and I had to admit, one for me too. Johnnie loved to see me bushy and for so long I had followed the fad for shaving it off ignoring his wishes. Maybe, I thought, I might strike out for women and revert to no shaving. Though my pussy was another matter, I liked it depilated. "Now, take off those panties; a rule about which makes the magical seventh condition."

She slipped the panties down her firm young thighs. I caught a glimpse of Clarissa licking her lips as she looked at our maid from behind. Our eyes met and she smiled. I laughed, which Anya took to be us mocking her bush. I watched her lower her eyes, accepting her subservience and with not a little embarrassment for being so untidy down there. I thought it was time to complete my dominance.

"Anya, the seventh rule is you will not wear panties ever again in this house nor will you dress in trousers or shorts. The exception will be that you have discretion when it is your periods, but you know as well as I that good feminine hygiene means those things," and I emphasised my new-found disdain for them, "are unnecessary and to be banned. Do you agree to these conditions, because in exchange you will have my adoration and access to so much sexual fun. You will want for nothing if you serve me well."

"Mistress," she said excitedly, her accent sounding thicker as the emotions took over from reason, "I have wanted nothing less than this. I have admired you, loved you, every day I have worked here. I have so wanted you to possess me, to make me a true servant to you. I - I - found some books of your husband's about slavery and BDSM and have been obsessed with this. I..."

"Anya?" I was astonished about what she had just said. "Repeat what you have just said about Mr Smithers, er Johnnie, the Master..." I honestly did not know what to call him now, though the latter title did somehow fit if I could only get him to join our lifestyle. I was confused.

"Please do not be angry with me," she pleaded, dropping to her knees on the tiled kitchen floor in supplication. "I was cleaning in your bedroom and found a, how do you say, bolt? It is in the lower part of the panelling beside the bed on Mr Smithers's side and seemed loose, so I tried to tighten it with a wrench. When I did this, the right hand panel sprung open and behind there is a cupboard filled with sex toys, clothing for BDSM, books and...it is an Aladin's Cave! There is another of these on your side but it is empty. I guess it is where the previous owner hid his real tax accounts from the Revenue or something. A neighbour told me that the house had been owned by a real rogue who was jailed eventually for tax evasion."

I felt angry, cheated. My Johnnie who had played the innocent and been the boring no-sex-I'm-British husband had a secret compartment with secret desires and God knows how many other secrets hidden from me. I picked Anya up by her short jet black hair, forgetting my responsibilities as mistress. I was angry and, to my shame, taking it out on her. She screamed as I lifted her up with incredible force from the floor.

"Mistress!" Clarissa screamed, running over, grasping my hand and with all her strength prising my fingers apart. "Please, she is innocent. She has been honest with you."

I was crying, with Anya and Clarissa both hugging me and crying too. We looked like Antonio Canova's The Three Graces, our naked bodies pressed close together in love and comfort for each other. I felt so sad, so angry, so confused. What had Johnnie, whom I knew I still loved but now did not trust, been doing?

"Right," I said, breaking the embrace, "Come with me."

I strode out of the kitchen turned immediately up the wide spiral, with Clarissa and Anya in hot pursuit. They must have had an eyeful as I climbed two steps at a time, intent on getting into that compartment and finding what else he had been up to. I was sweating with anxiety and mixed emotions that started to give way to a perverted thought; but enough of that for now.