Dee's Story

I've never seen my face as I work, later Chris told me how I looked, even had me work in front of a mirror, I hated seeing my reflection, but I did get to see what she meant, why she was so surprised when I stood up and after grabbing my satchel walked over and held up the sketch for her to see.

The sketch I had first shown her was one I'd drawn from memory, Rhonda sprawled naked upon her bed, partly in shadow, and to the side, a quarter view from behind, myself, dressed in the clothes she gave me, busy sketching her.

The sketch I'd done as Chris watched me was almost identical, except that in place of Rhonda is was Chris herself sprawled on the bed, dressed as she was right there before me, whilst in the sketch I was naked.

She said nothing, just looking, turning to look at me, then back to the sketch. Maybe it was a minute, it seemed like an hour, then she turned away, moved across to the till, I presumed to ring up the sale of the pad, that is until she came back, holding out the twenty pond note I had given her, along with four more. "Sold. Thank you. I apologise, now please come into the office, we need to talk."

I smiled. "Is there coffee involved?"

Chris returned my smile, "there is always coffee involved." I caught the glint in her eyes, "coffee and more, so much more."

I needed no second invitation, so after slipping the sketch pad into my satchel and fastening the buckles I followed her through a door behind the counter and into the office.

The room was quite large, a big window on the far side let in light and through it was a small yard and the back of the next row of shops. Chris's desk blocked part of the view, her chair on the far side so she faced into the room, her back to the window, the light catching the gloss of her hair, the white walls prevented her face being in shadow. What looked like kitchen cabinets filled the right side of the room, the cupboards mostly labelled with their contents, the worktop scattered with stock, except the closest part, a small inset sink separated the debris from the kettle and a real, working, filled and ready to go coffee machine..!!

"Help yourself, I take mine black, no sugar."

I busied myself making us both coffee, happy that there were no silly little cups, just decent sized mugs, perfect..!! I even slipped off my satchel before I carried hers across to set it on a coaster atop the big hardwood desk, mine was fortunately still on the counter, fortunate as when I turned around I noticed the picture on the opposite wall, not a picture, a giant photo print. I gasped, my body stock still as I just stared. "Fuck me..!!"

Behind me the sound of a deep chuckle and a soft, "later."

It was easy to understand why the picture hung there, exactly opposite the desk, directly in Chris's eye line, yet hidden from anyone looking into the office from the shop. The photo was.. Well it was art.. Poetry.. Perfection. Not to mention very, very kinky.

The girl was spread-eagled between two posts, her feet upon a scarlet carpet, in front of her a huge mirror, maybe a mirrored wall like a dance studio? Behind and to the side of her leather clad woman, a Mistress? Holding a long whip, actually the whip was in motion, caught as it speeded towards the naked girl's body. The reflection in the mirror showed her front, her face, the crimson marks of the whip, her eyes. Oh my! Those eyes, that expression..!! At the bottom of the picture, where the scarlet carpet blended into black shadow a series of smaller pictures like a tapestry filled the width of the print, each obviously taken in succession, each showing progressively more whip marks, making it very plain that the picture was of a real whipping, not a faked piece of theatrical fantasy.

I stood there, coffee forgotten, Chris, everything, nothing mattered right then, nothing but that picture. It was not just the subject, or that it was real, it was the way it was composed, no hint of glare from a flashgun, no reflection of the photographer, that drove me nuts as I tried to calculate the angles, how the fuck was it done?

"CRACK..!!"

I spun around, half expecting another shot. Chris just smiled, the leather whip still in her hand, she had obviously just brought it down across the desk. I looked at her expression, looked down at the whip, looked up into her eyes.

"Drink your coffee, then sit down, and face me, or you'll not hear a word I say." She smiled. "I understand, that photo really is rather special."

To this day I can still recall just how much conscious effort it took to sit down opposite Chris and concentrate on what she was saying, her questions, my replies. All I really wanted to do was look at that photograph.

I'm glad I did pay attention though, because by the time we'd each consumed two more mugs of coffee I had a job, staff discount and a place to stay, though Chris made it perfectly clear that staying with her was not just an act of kindness, she wanted me in her bed, I'd not shared a bed or my body with anyone but Rhonda, sharing Chris's bed seemed like a bad idea, sleeping with my new boss was bound to end in tears, despite her assurances it would not affect my job, right then I decided I had nothing to lose, and I was fast becoming enthralled by those eyes.

As Chris locked up the shop I stood on the pavement, wondering if I was being stupid, should I just thank her and go? I pulled the jacket tighter, the chill wind and evening drizzle were no match for my jacket, Rhonda was right, it was big enough for me to grow into, and it kept me warm and dry, Rhonda.. Thinking of her brought back the memories of that one day together, her body, my body, the touches, the feelings.. Mind made up I followed Chris, all of twenty feet to the door at the side of the shop, what the..?

Before I could work it out, Chris had unlocked the door and beckoned me inside, as the door closed I realised there was nothing but a flight of stairs, no rooms, nothing, just the stairs. Maybe I'm just not used to houses? Vans, caravans, hotels and even tents on occasion, those I know, have always known, but houses..?

The simple answer was that Chris lived above the shop, but for whatever reason they were completely separate, in fact I found out later that she bought the shop first, the flat above only came up for sale later, which was fortunate because at the time she could not have afforded both anyway.

Like her outright hatred of being addressed as Christine, exactly why she always described herself as the manager, never as the owner remained a mystery, as with many things, Chris kept that to herself.

The flat was larger than I imagined and the décor was very much Chris, leather, strong dark colours, not masculine in the slightest, but a long way from dainty femininity.

I gladly accepted her suggestion that I shower whilst she got dinner, not that I stank, but a shower or even better a bath would be wonderful, especially a private one that didn't need cleaning before I felt comfortable using it, so I slipped off my satchel and jacket, depositing both on one of the big leather sofas before making my way through to the bathroom that Chris had indicated with a wave of her hand and an admonition to "make myself at home." Pencil case in hand I stepped into the bathroom, and stopped dead. A long held fantasy come true, a real roll-top bath, claw feet and everything, such a bath had long been a fantasy of mine, ever since a TV commercial for a chocolate bar had featured a woman relaxing in just such a bath, the water overflowing as she lay luxuriating with said chocolate.

As the bath filled and steam began to rise, I slipped out of my clothes and unzipped my pencil case. Afraid that a spillage might ruin my sketches I carried my meagre washing kit in a pencil case that fitted into one of my jacket's inside pockets. Toothbrush, paste, soap and flannel, a comb missing it's handle, the bare essentials, the flannel had often doubled as a towel. I checked the level of the water then whilst it filled I brushed my teeth and put everything away, one glance had confirmed I'd need neither soap nor flannel.

Soaking in the bath was heaven, it was so long and deep I could immerse myself completely, which I did, grinning to myself as I remembered the woman in the advert, my turn to luxuriate, and I made the most of it, there is a lot to be said for scented body wash, I could easily get used to it.

A knock on the door and a slightly muffled call of, "ten minutes," had me scampering to get out of the bath and dry off, careful to rinse the bath and leave everything as I found it, all but the now damp towel, so big and fluffy and... I looked at my clothes, they could really do with washing, ok, later, taking Chris at her word to make myself at home I did the opposite, back home, well back before I walked away I would never have left a bathroom before I'd dressed, here was different, so I hung the damp towel over it's rail and wrapped a fresh one around myself before opening the door, a last check to see everything was back as I found it and I headed off to join Chris.

From the look in her eyes my attire met with her approval, from the aroma her choice of dinner met with mine. Take-away Italian, 'Pasta Carbonara', and lots of it, garlic bread and side dishes, a feast..!!

Chris sat on the sofa, the meal spread out on the long low coffee table before her, I chose to sit on the floor, cross-legged, my back resting against the other sofa as I settled back to enjoy a really good meal, ok, a take-away, but it was good, and compared to much of what I'd eaten recently, it was excellent.

We spoke little whilst we ate, but that was fine, Chris was drinking sparkling water whilst I was drinking water from the chilled jug she had brought from the fridge, we took our time, no rush, both intent on the food and each other. Chris did nothing to hide her study of me, so I looked right back at her, returning her gaze, I didn't care that she was able to see a lot of me, not that I was exposing myself, the towel was big enough so that wrapped around my chest it covered my tits ad hung down to almost mid-thigh, even sat as I was it was not gaping open, it was just that the way her eyes caressed me felt good.

More coffee. I helped clear away the remains of the meal, empty containers into the bin, the few dishes quickly washed and dried. The kitchen looked weird, not strange just.. "I don't cook." Her words explained everything, the kitchen was complete, everything needed was there, just unused, another piece of the Chris jigsaw fell into place.

"I do, at least a little." When it was too cold to sit outside I had often gone to the crew kitchen, if there was one, exchanging warmth for helping out, mostly washing up, wiping down, but when they were not rushing around, or when they knew me better, they would show me what they were doing, sometimes let me try for myself.

Coffee in hand we returned to the lounge, Chris resumed her place on the big sofa, whilst I returned to my spot on the floor, or would have if Chris had not stopped me. "No, not there, come sit here on the table," she indicated the spot in front of her, exactly where her plate had been whilst we ate. I settled myself on the low table, taking a long sip before putting my coffee aside, careful to put it out of harm's way. Her eyes flashed as I reached for the top edge of the towel and pulled it open, no finesse, I just opened the towel wide and let it fall around me.

"What you see is what you get... if you want..??" I knew what I wanted, Rhonda had opened the flood gates but until Chris nobody had made me feel 'right'. Chris did, did she ever..!!

"MMmm.. Nice, very nice." Her voice just a little husky as her hands reached out to my hips. Having taken the first step I was a little lost as to what to do next, Chris solved my dilemma by easing me forward until I sat astride her thighs, her open thighs.

As we kissed that first time I hesitated, just for a moment, mind racing with all Rhonda had told me, warned me, as we had laid exhausted between orgasms. The moment passed and I moulded myself to my leather clad lover, decision made, I opened my mouth to her tongue, soon my body opened to her fingers, she set the pace, showing me her softness, but always with a hint of the steel beneath, Chris was in charge, right then that was fine with me.

3.

Being naked whilst Chris was still dressed was a new sensation, the feel of my bare body held and moulded against leather was arousing, not as arousing as what Chris was doing though.

I cried out when she pinched my nipples, really pinched them, fuck that hurt..!! My body froze, my head snapping up as I screamed into her face, eyes watching me, she was smiling..!! Smiling and still pinching, I was tensing to rip myself away, to grab my clothes and run, the look in her eyes made me pause, her words stopped me dead.

"Stop." Her voice commanding. "Feel." Her hand dropped to my pussy, fingers releasing my nipple, the pain increasing as blood rushed back, "feel," her fingers entered me, three fingers, deep, easy. I was so wet, and her fingers felt so good, her kiss made it better, her tongue writhing against mine, overpowering mine, it took a while to realise my nipple still hurt like hell, trapped by her finger and thumb. I caught myself about to scream, then bite it back, let the pain mix with the feel of her fingers inside me, pleasure and pain, as I let both flow through me I lost all control, my body rigid as the orgasm struck, so sudden, so intense, it felt scary, like maybe I was having a fit?

Right then I could only feel, I had no control, no experience, nothing to compare with, Rhonda had made me cum, given me my first orgasm, but nothing like this, nothing like Chris, I sunk deeper into her arms as I panted for breath and moaned at every aftershock. I knew I had a lot to learn, I wanted to learn, I lifted my head to kiss her, "thank you, thank you, thank you." I used kisses for punctuation.

Some things I will never forget. Some of that night is hazy, but certain things stand out, glistening on the beach of memory. The sound of her heels on the wooden floor as she led me to her bedroom, a leather clad woman taking her rag doll to the toy-box. Undressing her that first time, the smell of her, kissing her skin as I pealed back the leather. Watching us in the mirrored headboard as I knelt on hands and knees, her fingers buried in my hair as her strap-on thrust in and out of my ass and her fingers spanked and pinched my ass and clit. The look in her eyes as she shaved my pussy. Watching her eyes roll back as I ate her to orgasm the first time.

Late in the night we slept, Chris on her back, me snuggled to her side, my head on her shoulder, her long black hair sticking to my breasts, still damp with sweat and cum. It felt so good, just to feel her warmth, her arm around me.

I awoke to a stinging slap on my ass. "Coffee..!!"

Chris sat cross-legged on the bed as we drank our coffee, her smile made me want her, I drained my mug and put it in the nightstand, but as I reached for her she grabbed my wrist, "Oh no you don't my little minx, we have things to do and a shop to run." Still gripping my wrist she dragged me out from beneath the covers and into the bathroom, spinning me around to sit me on the toilet, "hurry up, I want to scrub your back," she grinned and left me there, whilst she headed for the shower.

Growing up as I did, embarrassment was never an issue, I spent a lot of time alone, content to go unnoticed as I watched and sketched, but that does not mean I was shy, if I want something I'm far from shy, it's just that I've never been in the spotlight, only the shadows, Chris put me very much in her spotlight and I found I liked it, liked it a lot.

Back in the bedroom I realised I had done nothing about washing or at least rinsing my clothes, Chris was way ahead of me. A pair of leather trousers whistled past my head, "try those on," I did, not a perfect fit, but good enough, "now this" which looked like a plain white T-shirt, but proved to have a logo on the front, the logo seemed to draw attention to my tits and my barely concealed nipples, it wasn't big, just perfectly centred on my chest, a three-quarter rainbow with arty script beneath, 'caran d'ache'. With my boots I looked different, Chris obviously approved, judging from the way her hand moved on my leather clad ass.

Just before we headed out the door Chris stopped me, holding me tight as she kissed me long and deep, until my heart raced and I felt my pussy tingle. Then she placed her hands on my shoulders, pushing me back so we were at arms length, "up here we play, downstairs we work, understood?"

I lifted my arms, palms flat together, and whilst doing my best 'karate kid' bow, "yes ma'am."

"Very funny grasshopper, now lets go earn the money to play."

And so started my first day working for Chris. Not a well paid job, not that I cared, but the perks were wonderful, when not busy I could still sketch, although I couldn't go wandering to find new subjects, and of course sharing Chris's flat and bed was great too.

I understood style, maybe not as they teach it, but from seeing it in action, the way bands, at least the bigger ones dressed and acted to present an image, more interesting was the art, the posters and album covers, all different but all selling the band's image. For the first time I began to think about my style, my image. It took a while but slowly I build my own style, my own image, not just clothes, but me, myself, time to decide how I wanted to live my life. Chris was not responsible for it, but she did give me the chance to make it happen. For the first time ever I was earning money and putting down roots, not permanent ones, I was not that naïve.

As the weeks passed I grew up, I learned to use the shop's computer, learned how the gallery operated, dealt with customers and artists, suppliers and even models. Chris was an inspiring teacher, always willing to help me learn, and quick to back me up if there was a problem. Sure she was getting an assistant at a bargain basement price, but whilst I was aware of that it never bothered me, after all, I couldn't afford the lessons I was learning.

Chris's lessons didn't stop with work either, she liked her sex often and kinky, I just liked sex, she lead, I followed, sometimes warily, sometimes eager to rush ahead, sometimes so much she needed to restrain me, literally, on occasion.

At weekends we played. As soon as the shop closed at five we were off, we met up with Chris's friends, went to parties, travelled to kinky events all over the country. My introduction to kink was eclectic, revolving around Chris's preferences at first, though as time passed I wanted to try things that she had already tried and rejected. Mostly she would indulge me, but sometimes she refused. At first it was for reasons that made perfect sense, later it seemed she wanted to control me, as if concerned that I might get into something she disliked and the friction would tear us apart.

From that first night it became a habit to be naked in the flat, even though Chris remained dressed. As I learned more about sex, the endless kinks and of course BDSM, I began to understand my own sexuality, separating what sounded fun from that which was fun in practise, fantasy from fact, much like my sketches evolved to reflect my adventures. At parties and events I found images that inspired me to sketch, sometimes even paint, something I'd never had the chance to do as much as I'd have liked, but which the gallery in it's quiet moments afforded me the time to do.

I found myself drawn to the faces and the bodies, especially those lost in pleasure or pain, or both. As Chris and I played with ever more intensity I found I could relate to those images, my sketches all the better for understanding.