From Jeannie to Vanessa Ch. 05

Author's note. These are not stand alone stories. If you haven't read chapters 1-4, please go back and read them first, or this chapter will make no sense.

Chapter 5: Private session

As we approached the shopping district where Visions in Lace was located, it suddenly dawned on me that it was getting fairly late in the afternoon. Would the store even be open?

I queried Jack and he responded, "It's interesting that you bring that up. She actually requested that we come towards the end of the business day. As you probably noticed, she doesn't stay open late, even on Saturdays. I think she intends to have a private session with us."

A little chill ran down my spine. "Private session" could mean a lot of things. I guess the "Vanessa" syndrome was taking over again, and maybe I was seeing things that weren't really there. Like the erotic moment with Suzy back at Wild Pair. Did she really give me a meaningful look and stroke the back of my leg after looking up my skirt? Or was I just seeing everything through lust-colored glasses?

When we arrived at the store, the staff was obviously beginning to close up for the day. One of the staff members was headed towards us when Marguerite materialized out of the office and stepped forward.

"Never mind, Marie, I know this couple, I will work with them personally," she said in her precise, German-accented English.

Marie dipped her head slightly in acknowledgment and headed back to the rear of the store.

Marguerite was as an extraordinary a presence as ever. She had to have been 5' 10" or 5' 11" at least, although it was hard to tell because of her very tall high heels. She seemed to be slender, like a dancer, although the loose black dress she wore hid even that aspect of her looks.

The one thing that was easy to see was that, like the first time we had met her, she eschewed the currently fashionable heavily teased and permed hair for a single long jet-black braid that hung down the middle of her back almost to her waist. She didn't seem to wear a lot of makeup, but she had on a dark red lipstick that highlighted the paleness of her face.

"Mr. Jack, I'm so glad to see you!" She followed up the warm greeting with the touch of a hand on Jack's arm, and then she took both of my hands in hers and kissed them gently, looking me directly in the eyes for a long moment. "And the beautiful miss Vanessa. How kind of you both to grace my premises again."

Jack replied, "Thank you so much for your note and your offer of assistance. We are quite interested in seeing what you've put together, and perhaps talking with you further."

"But of course. We are just closing up, so let's go back to the dressing room and I'll show you the pieces we talked about. We won't be disturbed there."

It turned out that she had two main clothing items she wanted to show, presumably ones that she and Jack had discussed over the phone. One was a dressy pair of pants and the other was what you might call "city shorts" - skirt-length shorts with wide legs. I went into a small changing area off the mirrored stage to try them on.

Unsurprisingly, they fit perfectly.

I went back out into the stage area to model the dress pants for Jack. I wasn't sure what the point was, exactly. I mean, they were lovely pants, and extremely well-made and fashionable, with a sort of flap or scarf that attached on one side like a large belt and hung down over the rear. They also seemed to have a little extra material in the crotch but it wasn't uncomfortable. They had a placket-covered zipper in front, like mens' pants, a style that was becoming increasingly more popular.

I didn't think they really met Jack's "accessibility" criteria but I said nothing, stepping back onto the stage.

Jack smiled at me and asked, "So Marguerite, how do these work?"

Marguerite didn't answer immediately; instead, she had me turn my back on Jack and lifted the flap in the back of the pants. "This little scarf attachment, which is removable, covers a placket in the back of the pants. The placket covers a small zipper that separates the pants in two, like this."

She turned me back around to face Jack, then she demonstrated by pulling the front zipper all the way down to the crotch. What I hadn't noticed when I slipped them on is that the zipper continued all the way around to the back. It was suddenly quite obvious to me that with the concealed placket in the back, these pants functioned exactly like the "zip-around" jeans we had purchased earlier that same day, but were much less obvious.

"If she is wearing a tunic top or suit jacket, the scarf attachment can be dispensed with, as the top will cover the placket. The shorts are the same; a little bit different in the concealment method, but the same ultimate result. The delicious miss Vanessa will instantly be sexually available to you whenever and however you want her."

Wow. There it was. I mean, we all knew what we were talking about here, but to hear Marguerite say it out loud, standing right next to me was, well, wow. I felt like saying, "Hey, I'm right here guys!" but of course I didn't. And "delicious." That was a new one. I tasted that one on my tongue for a moment, and decided I liked it.

Jack nodded his head. "It looks very nice, and excellent quality work. I can definitely see the occasions for use, particularly in colder weather. I must admit, though, I much prefer her in a skirt or dress."

Marguerite smiled. "Of course you do. She has beautiful legs and should display them whenever possible. A skirt is much more convenient in every way.

"I do have something else I'd like to show you, though, that I think you may like. Vanessa, this way please," and she led me back into the changing room.

She followed me in with several boxes. "Vanessa, would you please undress completely?" she asked politely. She didn't offer to leave the room.

I was a little hesitant - the marks on my back from the whipping Jack had given me last night were all too plain - but I felt I really had no choice but to comply. I slipped out of the new pants, removed my blouse, and proceeded to remove the stockings. Marguerite unhooked the bustier from behind and I laid it on one of the chairs.

I stood, barefooted, on the carpeted floor. I shivered a little, from the cold, or perhaps simply being naked in front of her.

Marguerite examined me closely, up and down, in the front. I had the distinct sense of being inspected, like I was a soldier going on parade or something. She was so tall in her heels that I was almost looking at her chest.

She lifted my chin up and looked me intently in the eyes. "There is no reason to be afraid, liebchen, your Jack and I will take good care of you. Turn around, please."

While I was still thinking about the implications of that, I began to wonder how she would react to the marks on my back, but she simply said, "These stripes look pretty painful. Are they?"

I nodded without speaking.

"Just a moment then." She disappeared from the room and reappeared with a jar. "This is aloe vera, directly from the plant. It will help remove some of the residual sting and heal them more quickly. You should keep a plant around, or some of the cream made from it. I think you are going to find it useful."

She took some of the creamy substance from the jar and began to apply it to my back as I stood, naked, before her. The cream felt wonderful. Her hands felt pretty good too. She wasn't applying it in an impersonal way, like a doctor or nurse would. She was caressing my back gently, almost like a lover. Her hands crept around to the sides of my breasts and down in front of my hips as she spread the cream where the belt had wrapped around my sides. I was beginning to breathe a little harder when she stopped and capped the jar.

She placed the jar aside and said, "I'm going to have you try on something that I think Jack will really like. It's an under bust corset. I'm not going to cinch the laces very tight, given the sensitivity of your back, but it can be tightened quite a bit if he wants you to do so later. You are 22 inches in the waist," a statement, not a question, "so you could reduce it down to 20 without much difficulty or 18, or possibly even smaller, by tightening it completely."

A corset? Wow. I didn't think anybody wore them anymore. That was something right out of the 19th Century!

She helped me put it on. It had no shoulder straps, being designed to fit under and lift the breasts, much like the push-up open cup bra I had gotten here on our first visit. It had hook-and-eye closure in the front but laced from behind. It was beige in color, almost like a very light skin tone.

Then she handed me a new pair of stockings. Like one of the pair I had taken home with me last time (but hadn't opened yet), this was taupe-colored and had a seam running down the back. I had thought it was old-fashioned, but when I saw it on my leg, with the seam outlining the curve of my calf and up the back of my thigh, I realized it was pretty sexy!

When I turned around she was opening a shoe box. Whoa, these were no ordinary shoes. They were black patent leather pointed closed-toe pumps with spike heels, but the similarity to any other shoes I had ever tried on ended there. These shoes had platforms that had to have been an inch-and-a-half tall. The heels themselves were easily six inches tall, and may have even been taller than that. I had never seen such shoes. They were beautiful, but I wasn't sure if they were made to walk in or just lay about seductively in!

It looked like I was going to have to walk in them. Marguerite gestured for me to sit down, and she fitted each shoe to my foot. Of course, as with everything Marguerite had prepared for me, they fit perfectly. She had me hold each leg up straight out with the shoe on, and her expert hands moved up and down my legs, from shoes to garters, making sure the stockings were straight and tight without wrinkles.

Then I stood up and she repeated the process. Each time her hands caressed my legs they went from the ankle all the way up to the bare skin (just shy of my rapidly moistening pussy) and back down.

When she was finished, we were both breathing a little faster. She led me carefully out into the mirrored dressing room and up on the stage. "Vanessa, please turn around so Jack can get the entire effect."

With Marguerite's hand on the bare skin of my hip below the edge of the corset (to steady me, I supposed, in the extreme heels), I slowly turned around. In the mirrors, I couldn't believe what I saw. There wasn't a shred of "plain Jeannie" left. It was all Vanessa.

My hair was slightly in disarray from the changes in clothing. My breasts were lifted and displayed by the corset and (I knew) the nipples were stiffening. The decorative ruffles around the base of the corset, along with the garters and the hose, framed my nude and rapidly warming sex. The amazing heels and the stockings made my legs look longer and more shapely than I would have ever believed, and the seams up the back of my legs outlined that shape in an incredibly sexy way.

The icing on the cake was the way the whip marks curled around my back and sides, marking me clearly as what I had become. I looked - hot!

The effect on Jack was immediate and dramatic. He had been sitting; he stood up to get a better view. We locked eyes. I could feel Marguerite's hand, hot, on my upper thigh.

I hesitated for a moment, then stepped delicately forward, off the stage, towards Jack. I walked straight to him and knelt on the carpet at his feet. Without a word, I unbuckled his pants, pulled down his underwear, and lifted his rapidly swelling cock out and sank it into my mouth. I heard him groan, then, but no words came out. I licked and sucked the outside of his member, taking his balls into my mouth and continuing to tease his cock as it reached its full size and then once more engulfed it in my mouth.

After a few moments I raised my head and said, "Please fuck me, Jack. Right now. Please!"

He reached down and lifted me by my upper arms until I was facing him. My God, with these heels on I was nearly at eye level!

Jack breathed to me, his voice husky with lust, "You are one cock-hungry little slut, aren't you?"

I nodded without speaking.

He pushed me back against a table near the chair where he had been sitting, and lifted me up so that my bottom was on the table. He roughly entered me, pulling me forward at the same time to maximize his penetration and then supporting me. My stocking-clad legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him as deeply into me as I could. My eyes had closed at his first deep thrust but then I opened them, looking over his shoulder. Marguerite was watching us, her eyes smoky with lust.

I couldn't look away. My eyes held hers as Jack pistoned in and out of me. Occasionally, when Jack impaled me with particular gusto, my eyes would close for a moment in the ecstasy of this savage demonstration of his full possession of me. Whenever my eyes would open again, however, there would be Marguerite's hungry stare.

As my orgasm began to roll over me, I tried to keep my eyes open and locked on hers. I screamed out as I came. Jack was fucking me, but was I screaming to Jack or to Marguerite? Or both? "Oh God yes! Fuck me! Fuck your little bitch! I am your slut! FUCK ME!"

It took us a few minutes to wind down from that crescendo. I was like a dish-rag and I don't think Jack was in much better shape. Marguerite appeared beside us as if nothing unusual had occurred, carrying a fresh damp wash-cloth which she handed to Jack, pointing the way to the men's bathroom just down the hall.

She led me away to a toilet behind the changing room and helped me clean myself up. She was the soul of efficiency and decorum - much like the male manager had been back at Wild Pair after he had sent Suzy reluctantly off on her lunch break. It was as if the Marguerite I had seen in the dressing room earlier had been tucked carefully away for now.

We went back into the changing room and she helped me out of the outrageous heels, corset, and seamed stockings and back into my own lingerie and clothing. Once dressed, she suggested I return to the toilet, wordlessly handing me my purse as I went.

I could see what she meant. My hair was a wreck, my lipstick was smeared and my eye shadow was ruined. How did that happen, I wondered. In the mirror, as I repaired the damage, I mused on the woman (not girl, I thought) who looked back at me. From a shy college girl to a cock-hungry slut who thought nothing of sucking her Master's cock and then fucking him right in front of a beautiful not-quite stranger...but that's probably why I did it.

I was trying to prove something. But what, exactly? That I was a submissive slut? I think that was pretty well established, frankly, probably before we even came back tonight. That I belonged to Jack? Hmmm, no news flash there. That I was shameless, and open to anything? Bingo!

I stepped back out into the dressing room with a new understanding of...something. Jack was waiting.

"Marguerite's invited us to dinner, so we can continue our discussion of - uncommon requirements."

"Jack, that sounds wonderful! But, it's getting late and it's almost a two-hour drive back to your school. I'm pretty tired, too. Don't you think..."

He interrupted my whine. "She's invited us to stay the night, as well."

"Do I get a vote?"

"Always."

I smiled as lasciviously as I knew how. "Vanessa votes yes."

-to be continued-