Fantasy Princess Ch. 01

Author's note:

This will be a two or possibly three-part story about a consensual and unorthodox relationship between adult women. Comments and emails are welcome and gratefully accepted. There's a light but unmistakable "domination/submission" angle at play here so if that's not your cup of tea you might want to find a story more to your taste. Thank you very much for your time and I hope you find it an entertaining read!

*****

Trish sat in her client's driveway and checked her look in a compact mirror before tucking it away in her handbag. She took out her phone and enjoyed a leisurely browse through a few emails, then responded to a few texts from her friends. She was already ten minutes late for her appointment and she knew Nathalie was watching her from inside the house, eager for her company, feeling the passage of each moment acutely as it dragged by. Trish was in no hurry, content to allow her client's anticipation to build.

The Princess would arrive when she pleased, and not a moment before.

Nathalie would accept that. In fact, the forty year-old craved it. Trish had been visiting Nathalie every few weeks for almost half a year and collecting five hundred dollars a visit for her trouble via email transfer. They both knew what was expected, and they both knew The Princess would deliver.

In her own sweet time, of course.

Despite their long history, it had come as a shock to Trish when Nathalie had texted a couple of days ago to book the appointment. Nathalie's daughter had been killed in a car accident the previous week - Trish had stumbled upon the newspaper column by accident while waiting for a hair appointment and the distinctive last name had been unmistakable.

Trish had considered calling to express her condolences, but refrained - she and Nathalie weren't friends. Trish was a 'fantasy escort' and Nathalie was a client. The relationship was entirely transactional - when the transaction was concluded, so was the relationship. Condolence calls weren't expected or required. Trish preferred to maintain an emotional distance with her clients.

She had plenty of friends already and was working her way through a post-grad Theatre Studies degree. Time was a rare commodity, and escorting suited her needs perfectly - a modest time commitment, yet still highly profitable. The fact that all five of her clients were women provided a certain amount of safety, too.

Still, how weird was it for a client to book time with an escort a week after losing her child? She'd figured Nathalie would still be in mourning, or grieving.

Maybe Nathalie would find The Princess' visit to be therapeutic somehow. Of all her clients, Nathalie was the most deeply-immersed in each scene they did, losing herself in the fantasy the two of them created. She didn't just play her part, she BECAME her part. Maybe that mental diversion was what she needed after what must have been a truly hellish week? Trish didn't know for sure - acting was her passion, not psychology.

Ultimately, Nathalie's reasons were irrelevant. The client had called, so The Princess would come.

At last Trish got out of her car, smoothed down her knee-length skirt, gazed at her own reflection in the car window and took a couple of seconds to brush a few strands of hair away from her face. Her four-inch heels clacked on the cement flagstone path as she walked to the front door of the small townhouse Nathalie was renting. Her face was an aloof mask, chin held high.

Nathalie opened the front door before Trish could knock, and Trish stepped into the house without a word.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," the older woman said. Princess could feel the excitement, the nervous energy from the other woman.

She didn't respond immediately, instead taking time to examine her fingernails. After a couple of moments she looked over at her client. Nathalie was dressed the way The Princess had told her - an ankle-length brown skirt; a long-sleeved, plain, white blouse buttoned to the neck; brown hair neatly gathered in a bun on top of her head. Boring and conservative, especially for a woman of only forty.

By contrast The Princess wore a jet black skirt and a bright, crimson, sleeveless silk blouse that showed just enough cleavage to be interesting. Her red hair fell in loose curls to mid-chest.

"Back straight, Nattie. You've been told not to slouch," Princess said in a crisp voice that suggested her patience was already beginning to wear thin.

"I'm sorry," Nattie said, adjusting her posture.

"Better," Princess said with a condescending pat to Nattie's cheek that ended in a gentle fingertip caress.

A moment went by in silence before Princess gave an exasperated sigh.

"Did you plan to remove my heels or shall I stand in the doorway all afternoon?"

"Oh! I'm sorry, ma'am." Nattie quickly dropped to her knees and released the straps, then carefully removed the heels and placed them together at the side of the doorway. She remained on her knees in front of Princess.

"You're going to be troublesome today. I can just tell," Princess said.

"I'm sorry."

Princess grabbed her hand bag and walked past the kneeling woman, through the kitchen and into the living room. Nattie followed along behind.

"Stand at 'inspect', Nattie. Let's have a look at you." Her tone made it clear that Princess had better things to do with her time.

The older woman stood up straight, eyes forward and feet apart. Princess walked a slow circle around her subject.

Nathalie wasn't in peak physical condition but it was clear she attended to her diet and did the minimum as far as exercise. She was a little shorter than Trish, a little more rounded and certainly not unattractive. Her brown eyes were different than last time - sunken and rimmed by dark circles. She hadn't been sleeping.

"Well I see you've managed to dress yourself properly. That's something, I suppose."

"Thank you."

"Panties." Princess held out her hand, palm up.

Nattie blushed but quickly hiked the hem of her skirt up to her waist and drew down her plain, white panties, then stepped out of them and set them in Trish's hand.

"They're clean this time, I hope? And dry?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am. Very clean and dry." Nattie's face turned a darker red.

Princess made a show of inspecting the gusset of the panties for any sign of discolouration or moisture. Finding they were, in fact, clean and dry, she tossed them on the floor at Nattie's feet.

"Acceptable. Put them back on."

Nattie quickly bent and pulled the panties on again, then let her skirt settle back into place and returned to her rigid posture. Princess settled into the middle of the couch, crossing her legs at the knee, and regarded her subject.

"Did you hand-wash the delicates I left here?"

"Yes ma'am."

There was a brief silence.

"Well? Where are they?"

Nattie turned and hurried from the room. Trish remained on the couch, bouncing one foot in the air impatiently, never breaking character. She loved having a job where she could pursue her love of drama and theatre, even if it was only part-time.

The other woman returned with a small bundle wrapped in white tissue paper and handed it to Princess, then returned to her 'inspect' position in the middle of the room.

Princess opened the bundle to find five pair of her own panties neatly folded and carefully arranged in the paper. She set the bundle next to her on the couch.

"You did a thorough job of it?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Cold water?"

"Yes ma'am. Cold water, mild detergent only."

Princess gave a barely perceptible nod; the merest acknowledgment of a task satisfactorily done.

"I've brought a few more pairs I need cleaned. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all - I'm happy to."

Princess fished a plastic grocery bag out of her hand bag and threw it on the floor at her feet.

"You can take care of that when I leave."

"Yes, ma'am"

"I don't want them damaged."

"I'll be gentle, I promise. I'll do my very best."

"See that you do," Princess said. She allowed another short silence. "I have an important engagement tonight. I need to look and feel my best."

"I understand."

"I'll require a bath, shave and massage. After that you can do my nails. And I'm in no mood for foolishness so you'd better be attentive to your duties. Is that clear?"

"Very clear. Shall I run your bath now?"

Princess nodded and Nattie scurried to the bathroom. A moment later the taps were running. Trish rose from the couch and wandered into the bathroom.

"May I help you off with your clothes?" Nattie asked, her tone betraying her eagerness.

"Pin my hair up first."

The older woman used hair clips to lift Princess' red hair away from her shoulders, piling it on the top of her head where it wouldn't get wet. She didn't need to be reminded to be thorough.

"Now?" Nattie asked.

Trish gave her a brief nod.

Nattie approached her and clumsily undid the buttons down the front of the red, silk blouse. Princess let her get halfway down, exposing the black, lacy bra underneath. The older woman's gaze was drawn to the undergarment, and the hunger in her eyes was easy to read.

"Where's the hanger?"

"Pardon?"

"For my blouse. You weren't planning to drop it on the dirty floor, were you?"

"N-no, ma'am. Never!"

"Perhaps I should undress myself..."

"Please...I'll be right back with hangers." Nattie practically ran from the room as Princess gave her a disbelieving eye roll.

A moment later she was back with two hangers and Princess allowed her to finish unbuttoning and removing the top. Nattie arranged it on the first hanger almost reverently, then hung it from a hook on the back of the bathroom door.

"Would you permit me?" the older woman gestured to Trish's bra. She nodded and Nattie undid the clasp at the back and carefully slid it off, leaving Princess bare-chested in the now-steamy bathroom. The bra was carefully draped over the first hanger, too.

Nattie's eyes were drawn to the newly-exposed breasts and pink-tipped nipples. Princess let her get a good look, then modestly covered them with her palms.

"Hurry, Nattie...the tub will overflow before you're done," she prompted.

"I'm sorry. With your permission?"

"Get on with it."

Nattie knelt in front of Princess and slowly drew down the zipper on the black skirt, then eased the garment down her legs. Trish heard the other woman gasp as her skimpy thong came into view. In a moment Nattie had the skirt pooled at Princess' feet, and she stepped out. The skirt was quickly arranged on the second hanger and hung on the back of the door.

The older woman knelt again, her face inches from Trish's skin-tight black, Lycra thong. It was the tiniest pair she owned, and she'd worn it knowing the effect it would have on her client. Ever so softly Nattie slid her fingertips under the string waistband and coaxed it lower, pausing for a moment after Princess' neatly-trimmed pubic hair came into view. Nattie looked at her bare sex, face so close. Even over the noise of the bath taps Princess could hear Nattie inhale sharply through her nose. Scenting her. Immersing herself in the sensual experience of that moment.

Princess allowed it to go on for a couple of seconds to tantalize her subject, then growled, pushed Nattie's head away and slid the thong the rest of the way off.

"Did I say you should dawdle your way through?" she snapped, tossing the underwear into the sink. "Now OUT."

Nattie looked stricken. "I'm sorry! Please allow me to bathe you?"

"I need to relieve myself first," Princess said. "Surely you're not planning to stay and watch?"

The look on Nattie's face left no doubt she wanted to do exactly that. But Princess knew there was a time to be generous and a time to withhold.

"With your permission, I could...I mean, I want to..."

"Out," Princess repeated, more firmly. Looking like a whipped puppy, Nattie slunk out of the bathroom. "I'll take half a glass of white while I bathe. And turn the thermostat up! Are you trying to give me a chill?"

"I'm sorry. I'll get the wine and turn up the heat..."

Princess closed the door and locked it, then turned off the bath taps and settled onto the commode. As she sat she noticed a crumpled receipt and pharmaceutical packaging in the trash next to the toilet. Idle curiosity caused her to fish it out quietly. After all, she would likely keep her subject locked out for a few minutes or more, just to crank up her client's longing. So she had time to explore.

It was a prescription for twenty doses of SleepRx sleeping pills. Strong stuff! Well, that made perfect sense - with the horror of her daughter's accident Nathalie would have needed help getting to sleep. Though judging from the bags under her eyes, she hadn't been getting much use of the pills so far!

A second receipt was wadded into the package and she opened it up. She was snooping already - might as well go all the way.

It was for a purchase of forty ounces of strong rum.

Her brow furrowed. Everyone knew SleepRx and alcohol were a dangerous combination. Nathalie's doctor would have told her that while prescribing it. She glanced at the receipts and saw both purchases had been made that very day, within an hour of one another. She quietly wadded the papers up again and replaced them in the trash.

It was hopefully nothing to worry about. Maybe Nathalie had bought the sleeping pills for herself and the rum for someone else - that was a possible explanation. She hoped both purchases weren't for Nathalie!

"Ma'am, I have your white wine," Nattie said from the other side of the door.

Trish wiped and flushed, then unlocked the bathroom door. As Nattie entered, Princess was already lowering herself into the bubble bath, giving the other woman a fleeting eyeful of her bare bum. The water was hot, but not too hot. Perfect!

Princess accepted the wine glass from Nattie and closed her eyes, her face a mask of cool serenity. But deep down something wasn't sitting right. She hoped Nathalie was getting the support she needed instead of merely drowning her sorrows in rum.

Well, it wasn't any of Trish's business, really. She resolved keep her mind on the job and stop prying into Nathalie's life choices. Her client was a grown woman and could make her own decisions.

She opened one eye and regarded Nattie, who stood next to the tub, uncertain of what she should be doing.

"Why are you just standing there?" Princess said.

"I'm sorry. What would you like?"

"Take my clean delicates out to my car and put them in the back seat, then take my soiled laundry down to be washed," she said. "Leave me your cell phone," she added as an afterthought. "I want to read the news online as I soak."

"Yes ma'am, right away," Nattie said, quickly retrieving her phone, unlocking it and handing it to Princess, then hurrying to take the tissue-wrapped package out to Trish's car.

Trish set the wine glass on the edge of the bath tub so she could focus on the phone. It wasn't her style to be so nosy, and certainly not to snoop into the lives of her clients. She just needed a little reassurance to quiet the worried voice inside her, and that would be it. She quickly checked Nathalie's call and text message history.

No incoming texts. No incoming calls. Not for the last four days. In fact, other than her text to Trish to arrange this appointment there was no evidence that Nathalie had been in touch with anyone recently.

A week after her daughter's death and no one was reaching out to her? Where was her family? Friends? Co-workers? Where were her support systems? How could anyone hope to cope with a tragedy like that alone? Instead of being reassured, Trish's uneasiness deepened and she started to regret her decision to get so involved.

Of course, this might not be Nathalie's only cell phone. Maybe this was an old one, and she was actively using a different phone. That would explain the lack of activity.

Kind of unlikely, but not impossible.

She heard Nattie approaching and flipped over to an internet browser to cover her tracks, then set the phone aside and took up the wine again. As her subject entered the bathroom Trish once again wore the cool demeanor of The Princess. Business was business, after all.

"Done."

"Did you remember to lock my car?"

"Yes, ma'am. Of course."

Princess drained the remaining wine and sat up in the bath.

"Scrub my back."

"Yes, thank you," Nattie said, and quickly dropped to her knees next to the tub and reached for a loofah.

Princess gave a loud sigh. "Take your blouse off, Nattie. You'll get it soaking wet."

"Yes ma'am, of course." She started to undo her blouse. Princess noted with satisfaction that her attendant's hands were shaking, and fumbling the buttons in their eagerness.

"Honestly, do I need to tell you everything?"

"I'm sorry."

In a moment the blouse was off and Nattie was in a utilitarian, white bra.

"I'll fetch a hanger," Nattie said, holding up her blouse.

"I don't have all day, silly girl. Toss it on the floor and get scrubbing," Princess huffed.

Nattie dropped her top on the tiles and grabbed the loofah. Princess let out a contented breath as the older woman gave her bare back a perfect rub down - not too hard, not too gentle. Of course, it wasn't the first time Nattie had provided this kind of service. Princess was in no hurry, happy to keep her subject kneeling uncomfortably and bent awkwardly over the edge of the tub. After several minutes of heaven it was time to move on.

Princess stood up, then stepped out of the tub and onto the bath mat, immediately soaking it and the surrounding floor. "Hand me a towel."

Nattie quickly stood and grabbed a fresh towel off a shelf, then hesitated.

"May I dry you?" Her voice was quiet, her eyes pleading.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Please...may I dry you?" She held up the towel as if to clarify her request.

Princess held her in a disdainful glare for a few moments, then nodded. "Very well. Get to it - and no daydreaming."

Nattie didn't need to be told twice and began dabbing and rubbing the towel over Princess' shoulders, neck, collarbone and arms. Princess raised her arms so her armpits could be dried, then lowered them as Nattie turned her attention to her breasts.

"Not so rough. You know how sensitive I am," Princess scolded as the towel gently caressed her nipples.

"I'm very sorry." The rubbing turned to a careful patting. Nattie's eyes were focused on her Princess' naked breasts, still flushed pink from the heat of the bath. Princess allowed her to look and touch for a few moments to deepen the older woman's lust.

Being The Princess involved a delicate balance of accepting and rejecting, allowing and denying, giving and taking away. It had taken Trish a few sessions to get the mix just right, but the act was second-nature by now.

Princess covered her breasts with her hands. "They're dry now, Nattie. Move on...I haven't got all day."

"I'm sorry."

Nattie knelt and ran the towel over Princess' chest and belly, then around back to her hips and bum. As she dried, her face was again close to her mistress' bare sex. Princess allowed her to get a good eyeful before stepping past her and out of the bathroom, legs and feet still dripping wet.

"Bring the razor and gel, Nattie," she said. Princess left dainty, little, wet footprints in the hallway as she walked to Nathalie's bedroom, then threw herself onto the down comforter that covered her bed, wetting it, too. She lay face-up as her servant entered with a razor, shaving gel and a mug of hot water.

"May I set down some towels?"

"I think you've wasted too much time as it is. Get started."

"Yes ma'am. I'm sorry." Nattie replied, resigned to making a mess of her comforter cover.

The older woman smeared shaving gel over both Princess' legs below the knee, not rushing, clearly enjoying the intimate contact. Princess could see Nattie's eyes sneaking peeks at her bare pussy and naked body as she worked. Finally she swished the razor around in the mug of hot water to lubricate it.