The Bag Lady and the Domme Ch. 03

'Undress me,' Marianne said. It was a simple order that I had heard many times at The Group but when she said it I did not hesitate at all. I have to admit, I wanted to see her naked. I wanted her, desperately, and in spite of all that others in The Group had subjected me to.

I took off her blouse, a primly cut high necked one in white. As the fastenings undid from the neck, so the curve of her ample bosom was revealed button by button. Her décolletage was created slowly in my hands which shook almost imperceptively. She was affecting me. I could feel my pussy gushing juice, creating a sticky wetness between my thighs. My aroma was thick in the air. Her eyes seemed to widen with that scent.

Soon she was standing with her beautiful black lace brassiere holding back her straining breasts, their nipples tight and hard against the exquisite fabric. I sought out the front-fastening clasp, eager to release these wonderful globes into my hands. I wanted her by now so much and I needed to see her teats and their arousal open to me. I was not disappointed. They were large and still pink but engorged. This was a woman who had never had children. They were not the tell-tale dark areola of a mother. It excited me more than ever now. Here was a woman in her 40's with the body of a 20 year old, and so hungry to be pleasured. I watched her; panting as her breasts moved, heaving. I knew that what she had seen she wanted.

She almost clawed at her skirt to remove the heavy tweed. Her prim façade was being sorely tested. I helped her, gently reminding her that it was my job and to fail in that task would lead to my punishment. So she quickly placed her hands to her sides and let me continue, much to her disappointment but my pleasure. I took my time, brushing against her breast with my arm to entice and increase the tension. I unbuttoned the side fastening, then slid the zip slowly down her thigh. The skirt was allowed to drop to the floor in a pool at her feet. She stepped sedately out of it, her breasts high and proud; her head up. Underneath was a suspender belt, the moist unsexy and utilitarian black cotton knickers and sheer black stockings that emphasised her long, model-like legs.

I knelt in silence. In reality I was speechless. She was beautiful, even in those vile and unsexy pants. I noticed their gusset was glistening, her wetness unable to be contained. I slid my hands up her right leg, from ankle to thigh, generating a sigh from her beautiful wide mouth. Her naturally full lips pouted at me. They said, 'please', yet no words came out. I unclasped one suspender fastening, feeling the elastic slacken. Then, still kneeling, I moved to the back to remove the rear clip. I slid the stocking slowly down her leg and impulsively kissed her thigh. The second one followed, again slowly, sensually. Then off came the suspender belt, slowly, rubbing my hands over her buttocks as I unclasped it and let the suspender straps brush her buttocks and thighs. I noticed a flick of her tongue and a bite of the lip. I knew she was desperate for more.

The panties became a game. I knelt forward and without a second's thought kissed her straight on the damp gusset, causing a low moan to sound from Marianne's lips. Then I inched the top down, stopping to kiss her again, but harder this time on her crotch. Another inch, another kiss followed. Bit by bit she was being revealed. First there was a copious bush of coarse pussy hair, with a line that ran down from her belly, then the 'V' of her pubis, and her sex lips shimmering with her gushing cunt juice. Hair ran in all directions. This was a woman who had never taken pride in keeping herself shaven or even trimmed, yet there was something so sexy about that unkempt bush. I just had to bury my face in it.

And I did. Without ceremony or any more teasing I stabbed my tongue between her sex lips, pulling her down onto the plush carpet as I did so, so that she fell back with her legs wide open. 'Yes, fuck me!' were the first explicit words that came out of that prissy mouth. Then it was a string of obscenities that drove me wild with lust. Oh Mistress, it reminds me of why I love it when you are filthy mouthed with me. I deserve it. I am a slut, a slave to cunts, especially yours now."

"Thank you Clarissa," I said softly, my own pussy gushing with excitement as I imagined Marianne being tongue-fucked by my darling subbie. "Now rub my pussy with that delightful index finger of yours."

I lay back, legs wide open; my recently shaven pussy and my thighs wet with lust. I needed satisfaction as I listened to the story. No, I needed 'wanking' by her. I loved that word. It was not the exclusive domain of men. It was my word now.

"Rub me. Wank me slut! But keep telling me the story."

"My pleasure, Mistress."

"No," I corrected her sharply. "It is MY pleasure. You are to please my cunt by wanking my clit and finger fucking me."

To me this was so dirty to speak this way, the words almost foolish in their direct simplicity, and yet I felt powerful and liberated. I would express what I wanted and command it. I could do nothing but smile inside.

"Get on with the story, slut!" I said, getting quickly back into control. I felt her fingers delving and caressing so lovingly and oh, so sensually. I was determined however to practice restraint, to not let her know too readily her effect on me. Besides, I was Clarissa's Mistress and she needed to work hard to please me, didn't she? But, oh my God, those fingers circling and not touching directly my clitty were disobedient in not following my orders but sublime in extending this female wank...

"Well Mistress," she continued. "Marianne was clawing at my hair, pushing my face hard to her cunt. Her sounds were deep moans and words of intense pleasure and lust. She was obscene. Even her legs widened to be as far apart as she could get, almost as if she wanted to be exposed and possibly seen. Well, she need not have bothered about the last need as I knew The Group would be filming everything using fibre-optics secreted around the room. All my initiation and indoctrination had been filmed. I had seen it shown many times."

The thought of having sex under camera made my pussy pulse. Another fantasy had always been to be exposed, taking Johnnie on a bed in a furniture store or fucking on the tube. Once, early in our marriage I had left my panties off when wearing a very short skirt. I'd sat opposite him on the Underground and slowly, ever so slowly, opened my legs to reveal my bushy cunt. At first I thought no one else could see, but a very handsome man sitting diagonally opposite began to look from behind his paper as my knees opened to 18 - 20 inches apart. I guess my thighs were at such an angle he could now see. God that made me wet! Instead of being embarrassed, I opened them further. I loved having now two men worshipping my pussy. I felt powerful. I liked their cocks forcing hard against their light summer trousers, unable to hide their pleasure from me. I saw them both slide a hand into their right pocket and movement, almost indiscernible, occurring next to their bulges. They were masturbating discretely. I was ecstatic. Such power over men! They did this for about 5 stops, the train emptying quickly late at night until only the three of us were left in the carriage. So I opened my legs more, tucking my feet up on the seat and sliding my fingers down to play around my pussy.

Remembering it was making me more horny than Clarissa's story! I pushed her hand hard onto my cunt.

"Stop your tale a minute. Make me cum, now!" I ordered.

I felt her hand rubbing hard on my clitoris, her fingers sliding into me and fucking me urgently as her thumb agitated my hard nub. Meanwhile my mind returned to the train. I recalled the moans of the two men, Johnnie looking up alarmed when he realised another man had been coveting and taking pleasure from his young wife, then lying back with a returning smile on his face. The handsome man was fidgeting with his trousers. Both had obvious damp patches seeping out over the light cottons. I felt triumphant in my control over them, making them lose their discretion and control. But it was in my own cumming that I realised something else changed that night. When I came, which was a massive orgasm, I saw in a vivid image two women opposite admiring and lusting over me, not two men! Had I always been suppressing lesbian desires? Was I just bi-sexual? Who cared, I thought. I wanted pleasure and that is all that mattered or ever matters.

That was the point when Clarissa's finger fuck sent me over the edge. I not only moaned but screamed, arching my back and thrusting my cunt up towards her as hard as I could; my labia enveloping her fingers. I wanted to extract every ounce of pleasure. I delighted that she had remembered to excite my breasts too; her mouth suckling my left tit as she took me threw a wave of orgasms that came quickly in succession. I knew I was coating her hand with extreme amounts of my sex juice.

It took me at least an hour to come round. I had seen stars, colours, vivid sexual images of past erotic encounters and then had a strange dream in which I saw Johnnie being coaxed by Clarissa to take a large black man, my accountant of all things, into his arse. At the same time, I was being eaten by my husband, who was lovingly teasing and caressing my open cunt. I had, like on the train, my legs wide open, feet tucked back. Clarissa's arse was facing me as she bent to whisper encouragement into Johnnie's ear. Of course, I could do nothing but part her cheeks and lick at her rose bud, making her buttocks gyrate sexily in my face and the tight pink sphincter open to accept my loving tongue.

I awoke to Clarissa licking my cunt clean. It was too much, so with a rather unsubtle push I stopped her. I had wasted time and wanted to know more of her adventures. Somehow my thoughts to destroy The Group had began to wane as I felt sympathy for their approach to the wayward CEO and saw the advantages of being part of such a powerful clique of men and women. I was even beginning to question as I lay back and reflected whether Maggie did need rescuing and for all the degradation of Clarissa's initiation, whether they had not tapped into something that my subbie needed anyway. No, I could not put my finger on it but there was something not quite...

"Clarissa, tell me what happened after that fucking of Marianne. How did you escape?"

I noticed a slight shift in Clarissa's facial expression. Was she about to tell me something else? My instincts were coming into play. Something was definitely not quite right and I could not put my finger on it.

"I did not," she said quietly, her head ducking down, eyes looking at my naked belly.

"What do you mean, you did not escape?" I asked, matching her quiet tone, confirming my instincts with every verbal and non-verbal communication. I knew I could not respond in an angry way otherwise I would blow it.

"S-she, er, Marianne fucked me on that floor and then in an adjacent bedroom four times. She was at heart a lesbian and took total control of me, loving me, fucking me, caressing me and so, when The Group's main spokesperson entered - the voice on the Tannoy© - she agreed terms for her silence and part of that included taking me with her to her home. Her husband was to receive the male equivalent of the initiation I had been given on my entry. She was to be given all privileges, including ordering up as many sex slaves from their portfolio as she wished.

Oh, Mistress I was so scared to leave the warehouse. So many days and weeks had been spent there in total subservience and now I was to be taken away from the place I knew; where whatever happened I was safe. I was dressed by another slave in the clothes you saw me in all those days ago.

At first when I arrived at her house she was loving and kind to me. Then a shift occurred, as she began to order new slaves to play at the house with her. Initially I was part of the games, but Marianne was like a teenager who has just discovered sex. She could not cope with maintaining our relationship and I was left to do whatever I wanted. I realised I needed to get back to work and so one day, with her blessing and that of The Group, I went back onto the streets as a vagrant. However, the story had now changed. I was to write about what it was like to live homeless, but I would not tell my editor Klaus about The Group. In fact, I would never be able to find them. You see, it turned out that Klaus had been rejected by them early in their formation because he was sadistic with people without permission. That is, he might agree a safe word with someone and then ignore it when his desires took him. They had been watching him for some time and a member of The Group planted the story that they were abducting people off the streets. In fact, the location of the vagrants had been created. Maggie was a willing initiate to The Group."

"Why the elaborate lies about needing to rescue her? About the degradation of her induction? Why the lies to me, your friend, your Mistress, about the abduction? Or is this all some elaborate game?"

I felt anger rise in me. I had sensed something, but just like Marianne my lust had taken away reason. Now I had to get a clear head. I was close to the end of my leave and due to return to work, the maid would be arriving soon and I was now dealing with Clarissa, my rediscovered sexuality and orientation, and now this discovery that not everything I was told was truth. So what was fiction and what was reality, and what mattered?

"Please Mistress Jessica, never in my story did I tell you I escaped. You assumed it. You saw my degradation as something I did not want. My tears were sometimes sadness as I miss Maggie, she gave me so much care and love and we shared a journey of initiation that bonded us; even as slaves or submissives depending on our choice of relationship.

The Group asked me about my past history, using clever psychometric tests and interviews to establish my sexual needs, my BDSM proclivities and whom within my past could be a good member of their elite inner circle. Your name came up repeatedly, when I thought I had all but forgotten you, but clearly had not. So, they sent me on assignment to watch you, follow you, using the cover of being that bag lady. What's so funny is Klaus is paying for it!"

I found myself smiling. I did not want to but just that instant of her face lighting up with the ultimate irony of that pig paying for someone else's potential pleasure made me smile. How could I stay angry with this woman for whom I had felt love ever since my late teens?

"Yes, as I lived as a tramp, so I wrote that story and followed you. The Group kept leaving me dead end trails to keep Klaus happy with his story. But I grew more and more in love with you from afar. I was invisible to you until that day in the park. I've watched you with your husband, your children and your friends. I've seen your doting maid attend to your needs and I have felt the same adoration for you..."

"Anya?" I interrupted.

"Yes Mistress. Have you never noticed how she looks at you? I think she is a lesbian and possibly submissive. Certainly her Czech friends who are nannies and maids nearby are. I was collecting cans in the park when I caught two inside a copse of rhododendrons rubbing each others' pussies frantically under their skirts as the children in their charge lay asleep in their buggies. Highly irresponsible, but I watched over the children; biting my lip with the arousal I felt from their nannies' urgent sexual play."

I laughed. I'd met these friends and completely missed this side of their characters. I knew two seemed to wear the most obscenely short mini skirts and now I knew why; for better access!

"The experiment in degradation of you I had planted subtly on instruction of the psychologists in The Group. They gave me key words to implant into my sentences, to test whether you were submissive or dominant. Paradoxically, it was only your dominant streak that made you hold out so long. My tears were of joy for you when the time was over and I could reclaim my submissive status. Cleaning you was an honour, though I must tell you now that those less hygienic practices are rare in The Group and certainly not my favoured scene."

"I still do not fully understand why you would go to these lengths."

"It is because The Group wants to have more women in its inner circle. It prides itself on its diversity of sexual orientations, races, creeds, BDSM practices and so on. It is egalitarian in its management and always balances the sexes. There are four each of lesbians, gay men, hetero men, hetero women and transsexuals on the Management Team. All are successful businessmen and women who have made it in their field. Some would alarm you they are such prominent people in society; in positions of immense power be it political or economic. All so incredibly good deeds but at their core have a desire and hunger for sex. So, they made this society, the Group, to quench their incredible thirsts. But most of all, they want you to join it. They see something in you that I saw a long time ago, but failed to acknowledge."

She stopped.

There was an incredible silence that seemed to stretch on and on, as I tried to absorb all she had said.

I looked at her, naked and kneeling in front of me, tears streaming down her face for reasons I did not understand until she spoke again; her voice soft and almost childlike.

"I love you Mistress Jessica"

It was such a simple statement but with huge ramifications. Where did James fit into this? My oft-absent husband I had a lot of affection for even if our time together was fleeting and lately quite sexless.

"I need to think about this..." I said, my voice trailing off as my head whirred with questions.

And so, with few days to James returning, that is what I did...