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From: "Louis Nessus" <nessus29@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} NEW NESSUS: Famous Blue Raincoat
Date: Fri,  3 Aug 2001 15:10:01 -0400
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This story is intended for the enjoyment of adults over the age of 18 or 
whatever the legal age is in your part of the universe. It contains fantasy 
scenes of graphic sexual activity.   Please, if you are under the age of 18, 
or if you may be offended by such material, use your intelligence and read 
no further - delete the file.  Otherwise ....enjoy!


Famous Blue Raincoat

By

Nessus

(FD FF MF)

Inspired by the songs of Leonard Cohen

Part 1: Sisters of Mercy
(Oh the sisters of mercy, they are not departed or gone.
They were waiting for me when I thought that I just can't go on)

I purchased the blue raincoat in 1986 from the Camden markets as a 
celebration when I finally finished fashion school. The coat was of soft 
leather, dyed navy blue and had those wonderful marks and creases that 
demonstrated its age. I guessed it was from the sixties or seventies and as 
I was into the retro sixties look at the time, I bought it. It was a little 
tight over the chest when I closed it as I do have large breasts but I was 
going to ear it mostly open any way. When I wore it over a black skirt, 
turtle neck and boots with my long blonde hair hanging loose on my 
shoulders, I fantasised I was Nancy Asher or some terribly chic chick from 
the mod era with a boyfriend in the Beatles.

My boyfriend at the time sneered at it when I twirled around to show him. 
"It looks crummy, Marianne," Lenny said in that exaggerated south London 
accent of his. "It's too old, darl."

"I don't care," I said defiantly, "I love it."

Lennyn had left school as soon as he could and became a mechanic, focusing 
on motor bikes. Now, at twenty-eight, he owned a small Ducati dealership, 
rode bikes all the time while dressed in his brand new red leathers and 
black helmet. He and his friends would take off on these weekend jaunts 
across the channel and ride through France or Spain, leaving me behind in 
dreary London. I didn't like his friends much, all lads who swilled lager 
and whistling at girls while ogling my breasts, so I didn't care.

However, I would have liked to have gone to Paris with Lenny and enjoyed a 
romantic weekend but he didn't seem interested. His only interest was quick 
sex and boasting to his mates. At twenty-five, I wasn't interested in 
becoming his chief cook and bottle-washer that he could give a quick 
unsatisfying poke to when he felt the urge.

I wore the raincoat to interview after interview as I tried to get a job in 
the fashion houses but the nicer ones politely shooed me away while the 
others just laughed at me. In desperation, I started looking at other jobs 
and ignored Lenny when he tried to get me to work at his bike shop. He was 
also becoming very pushy about moving in together and, I knew if I didn't 
get a job, I would have to give up my little flat and do exactly that.

Depressed, I trudged up the stairs to my final interview for the day at 
`Cut' magazine, a fashion monthly that claimed it was on the cutting edge of 
the new fashion. "Nice work," Nancy said as she studied my portfolio. "How 
long have you been in London?" She was dressed entirely in black, her dark 
hair short and spiky but she somehow managed to appear cool and elegant, 
especially with that refined accent.

"Three years," I said tiredly.

"You haven't lost your accent," she observed as she flicked through my 
designs.

"Why should I?" I flared and she smiled.

"Everyone tries to be someone else in London while pretending they've been 
here all their lives. You look and sound like a young woman from Liverpool."

"I am," I sighed, slumping back while I waited for her to push me out the 
door into the London gloom. "I'm just me."

"Well," Nancy said slowly, "we can't pay you very much and you'll have to do 
a bit of everything."

"What?" I exclaimed. "You are giving me a job?"

"I have to check it with Suzanne but I think it'll be fine."

I squealed in delight, leapt up and hugged her, then embarrassed broke away. 
"I sorry," I rushed, "it's just that I've been looking for a long time and 
this is so bloody fantastic and....."

"All right, all right," Nancy smiled, interrupting me. "Calm down. When can 
you start?"

"Tomorrow?"

Nancy laughed and nodded. "Tomorrow is Friday. How about Monday?"

I nodded and, stupidly, I felt a tear rolling down my cheek. "Thank you," I 
said as I wiped my eyes.

Nancy patted me on the arm and she smiled. "Us Liverpuddlian birds have to 
stay together, eh?" she said in a thick accent and I gaped at her. "As I 
said," she in her normal cultured accent with a cheeky smile, "everyone 
tries to be someone else but I'm as Mersey as you, love. Now dry your eyes 
and go and celebrate. As I said, I'll check with Suzanne but I don't believe 
there will be a problem."

"Thank you so much, Nancy," I gushed as she walked me to the door.

"See you Monday, Marianne and, by the way, just adore your raincoat."
(nessus29@hotmail.com)

Part 2: Bird on a Wire
(I have tried in my way to be free)

Lenny wasn't that happy when I excitedly told me my good news and I wondered 
for the umpteenth time why I bothered staying with him, as he was always 
critical of me. I longed for romance and love but knew our relationship 
wasn't going anywhere, as he was just too chauvinistic.

Monday saw me nervously walking into `Cut' but Nancy welcomed me and made me 
feel right at home straight away by taking me around and introducing me. 
Everyone was friendly and really nice and I felt quite at home when we 
stopped outside a closed office door. "Time to meet Suzanne, the boss," 
Nancy said, knocking on the door and opening it.

A dark haired woman in her thirties, sitting behind a cluttered desk, looked 
up and smiled as we entered. "Suzanne," Nancy said. "This is Marianne, the 
girl I told you about? This is her first day."

"Hello, Marianne," Suzanne said, "Welcome to `Cut' magazine."

"Thanks," I said, smiling at her and admiring her clothes. Suzanne was 
dressed in style in a fashionable business suit and soft silk blouse. Her 
jewellery said she had both money and class and, on top of all that, she was 
extraordinarily beautiful..

Suzanne smiled at me, her eyes twinkling. "How long have you been in 
London?"

"Three years," I answered, glancing at Nancy who smiled at me. "I know, I 
haven't lost the accent."

Suzanne laughed. "I suppose it could be charming." She turned to Nancy. 
"Have you thought of photographing her? She could be a model."

Nancy nodded. "Nice bone structure but not tall enough and too big in the 
chest." I blushed as they casually discussed me but I knew that this 
industry used models as property.

The weeks flew as I threw myself into every thing I was told to do and at 
the end of three weeks, Suzanne called me into her office. "You're doing 
very well, Marianne. Lucy is leaving to have her baby soon and I would like 
you to move into her job. Interested?" she asked as she raised an eyebrow.

Lucy was Suzanne's Editorial Assistant, and I was astonished at the offer, 
as it was a great job. "Of course," I gasped.

"I need someone with an eye for detail and design. Don't get carried away, 
Marianne, it's really just my assistant with a small pay rise."

"Thank you so much, Suzanne," I smiled and she regally waved a hand.

"Not at all, my dear," her dark eyes searching mine deeply. "I think you'll 
do very well indeed."

I sat in most of the meetings and began to really understand and enjoy the 
publishing business as well as enjoying working closely wit Suzanne. 
Sometimes she could be so warm while at other times she was cold, snappish 
and demanding but I still loved it and began to work long hours just so I 
could keep up with her.

One Thursday evening Suzanne, Nancy and I sat at Suzanne's conference table 
as Suzanne made her decision on the photographs Nancy had submitted for this 
month's cover story. The models were in the clothes from a well-known 
Knightsbridge designer and Nancy had posed them in strange belts and 
handcuffs to illustrate the article called `Slave to Fashion'.

Suzanne leaned back. "They're all good, Nancy but I'm afraid I don't see a 
cover shot there."

"What about that one?" Nancy said tapping one picture while exhaling smoke 
from her cigarette.

Suzanne shook her head. "I want something arresting, a shot people will talk 
about and will get people to buy our magazine. We do need the circulation 
figures to increase." We sat in silence for a moment, all three of us 
staring at the photographs spread across the table.

"Any ideas?" Nancy asked. "Anything in mind?"

Suzanne stared out the window at the lights of London. "I see a young 
woman's face, eyes wide open, gagged and hands bound in front of her. A 
close up."

Nancy nodded. "I can see it but we need this tonight. What model owes you a 
favour?"

Suzanne smiled coldly and I shuddered inside as her eyes swept over me. "Why 
not Marianne?"

Nancy inspected me. "Suppose she'd do, and she has nice eyes. I've got some 
props downstairs so we could do it now."

"Excellent," Suzanne said, "then let's do it."

Wait a minute, I wanted to scream, no one has asked me. Don't I get a say in 
this? I sat nervously waiting for Nancy to return while Suzanne smiled 
strangely at me, her long fingernails tapping on the table. Suddenly, she 
stood next to me and tilted my face up and I blushed as she examined my 
face.

"I'll do your eyes," she said matter of factly, opened a cosmetic bag and 
started applying eye shadow.

She had finished when Nancy returned carrying her digital camera, portable 
lights and a bag. "Hey," she said, noticing my eyes, "that looks absolutely 
fantastic.

"I used to be a stylist remember," Suzanne said while she applied lip-gloss 
to my lips. For some reason I was trembling slightly as Suzanne's warm body 
pressed against mine.

"Here," Nancy said as she handed some leather straps to Suzanne.

"Hands," Suzanne said, looking me directly in the eyes and I held my hands 
out to her so she could quickly buckle the restricting straps around my 
wrists. "Try to move," Suzanne said softly and I did but my hands were 
tightly bound. "Good, now open wide." I felt strange as Suzanne inserted a 
white plastic ball in my mouth and buckled the straps behind my head, 
carefully pulling my hair over it and arranging it.

A delicious feeling swept of me as I realised I was not in control, that 
these two women could do anything they liked to me. "Hold your hands in 
front of your chin," Nancy directed as the camera towards me. "Her shoulders 
are in the shot so we can see the blouse."

"I'll undo it," Suzanne said, standing in front of me and casually undoing 
the buttons to my white blouse while gazing steadily into my eyes. She 
smiled as she opened it to reveal my large breasts cradled in a simple white 
cotton bra. "Poor choice in lingerie," she said and I blushed, "an ugly bra, 
darling. We are supposed to be a fashion magazine." Her cool fingers 
casually grazed over my breasts and, my whole body trembling, I knew my 
panties were soaked.

Suzanne peeled the blouses down from my shoulders and rolled the sleeves up 
so my bra was completely exposed to the two women. "I can still see the bra 
straps," Nancy said, the camera held to her face. Suzanne mockingly smiled 
at me as her fingers slid the bra straps down, her fingers cool against my 
burning flesh. "That's better, she looks naked now," Nancy called and the 
camera flashed.

Both women stared at the camera screen critically, leaving me standing, 
gagged and hands bound in front of me with my heaving breasts exposed in my 
bra. "The red lips look fantastic against the white gag," commented Nancy 
and Suzanne nodded. "I could superimpose a lipstick mark on the gag and 
that's where we could put the title of the article."

"Let's see," Suzanne said, standing in front of me as she applied lipstick 
to her lips. Her perfume washed over me and my knees were weak as she gently 
kissed the ball gag, her lips so close to mine that a little groan formed in 
the back of my throat. "There," She said to Nancy, "what do you think?"

"Perfect. Try to make your eyes wider," she said to me, "and look 
frightened." The camera flashed again and both women examined the screen. 
"That's great," Nancy said, gathering her things. "I'll go downstairs and do 
the art." Without a backward glance she left and Suzanne smiled at me coldly 
as she walked around me, inspecting me and I trembled under her gaze.

"Have you ever wanted to own someone, own them completely?" she said softly 
as she circled me. "I do," her soft voice burned in my ears. "Of course, the 
person must want to be owned, to be loved completely and to give up control. 
I believe that's you, isn't it?" her breath brushed my ear as she whispered 
and I moaned behind the gag.

"It's a delicious feeling isn't it?" she mocked. "To give up all control to 
your owner." She studied my heaving breasts. "So plump and creamy, they 
would look so much better in black, don't you think?" I tried to tear my 
eyes away but she held my jaw and turned my face to hers. "Such a slut," she 
mocked. "Your nipples are like little pencils and I know if I lifted that 
skirt of yours you would be soaked, your pussy is leaking like a river, 
isn't it, slut?"

I tried to turn my burning face away but she held my chin firmly. "I'm not 
going to lift your skirt, slut," she whispered, "because I know what I'll 
find, boring panties under pantyhose and sodden with your juices. Nod if 
that's correct, slut." Her steely eyes held mind and, trembling as I fell 
deeply into her eyes, I nodded.

Scornfully, she released my chin, stepped back and perched against the 
table, arms folded. "Thought so. Darling, panties under pantyhose is so 
provincial," she laughed coldly and moved forward to unbuckle the gag. I 
opened and shut my mouth to remove the stiffness as she released my wrists.

I fumbled with the buttons of my blouse, head down, hoping the floor would 
swallow me up. "Go home, Marianne," Suzanne said softly. "Thank you for your 
help tonight. I think the cover will be excellent." I felt her eyes on me as 
I struggled into my blue raincoat and almost ran out of the office.

A taxi took me straight to Lenny's where I almost attacked him, kissing him 
passionately until he responded by slipping his hand up my skirt and I 
imagined it was Suzanne. Moments later, I was moaning and groaning as Lenny 
fucked me, his cock sliding in and out of my wet pussy until he shuddered 
and came, leaving me completely unsatisfied.

Sullenly, I watched him go to the bathroom to get rid of the condom, then he 
wandered to past me on his way to the television. The sound of motorbikes 
racing soon filled the flat while I wondered if I could masturbate without 
him noticing.

Instead, I slowly dressed and walked past him as he lay on the sofa watching 
some bike race. "Not staying, love?" he asked absently, eyes glued to the 
bikes going around and around some circuit.

"No," I said as I opened the door.

"I'm off with the lads tomorrow. See you on Monday." I stalked away, sure he 
would gloatingly tell his friends how he had given me a quick poke before 
his trip.
(nessus29@hotmail.com)

Part 3: Chelsea Hotel No.2
(I need you, I don't need you
and all of that jiving around)

I spent ages the next morning trying to decide what to wear to work. I had 
tossed and turned all night, images of Suzanne floating through my mind. 
Even though I was incredibly frustrated and aroused, I didn't masturbate as, 
strangely, I thought it wouldn't be at all satisfying.

Finally, I selected a filmy black lace bra, sheer black pantyhose, black 
skirt and a cream silk blouse with a short jacket. Slipping into high heels 
instead of my usual Docs, I critically examined myself in the mirror and 
blushed a little when I saw the dark shadow on my blouse caused by the black 
bra underneath.

Nancy waved the cover under my eyes as soon as I got in as I was removing my 
blue raincoat and I blushed deeply when I saw it. "You look fantastic," 
Nancy smiled. "This will cause some talk and some sales." She stopped and 
looked me up and down. "Big date tonight with your boyfriend?" she asked 
shrewdly.

"A date after work but not with Lenny," I stammered and started to walk 
away.

"Oooh," she called after me, "tell me more."

Suzanne was warm but distant with me all day as we worked and I felt a small 
sense of relief that she wasn't going to mention the previous night. 
Strangely, I felt very disappointed as well but I focussed on my job and 
assisted her throughout the morning. When she left for lunch with someone, I 
felt jealous but kept working, eating a sandwich at my desk.

Suzanne returned mid afternoon and immediately vanished into her office 
until the evening when I was the only one left in the office, everybody else 
departed for the weekend. I switched my computer off, tidied my desk, and 
slipped into my raincoat and, taking a deep breath, I nervously tapped on 
Suzanne's door.

She was seated at her desk, smoking a cigarette and gazing out the window at 
the lights spread before her. Turning, she tapped some ash into the ashtray 
and coolly examined me. "Everyone left for the weekend?"

I nodded my heart pounding. "Yes," I croaked

"Yes, what?" she snapped, stubbing the cigarette out while I looked at her 
in confusion. "I'll explain it once. When we are alone you refer to me as 
Mistress or Madame, even Milady is acceptable while I will simply call you 
slut. Understand?"

I looked at her open mouthed, my pantyhose wet from moment she said `slut' 
and my knees weak and trembling. Suzanne leaned forward and cupped her face 
on her hand that rested on the desk, her dark eyes looking me up and down. 
"Of course," she said with a wintry smile, "I could be mistaken and you 
don't want me to own you. Nor do you want me to control you and tell you 
what to do every moment of your life. Yes, I could be terribly wrong and 
this could be a tragic mistake. You should yell at me in that provincial 
accent of yours, resign and, of course, slam the door on the way out."

The only sound in the room for a long moment was my ragged breathing as I 
trembled before her until she stood, walked in front of her desk and stood 
there with arms folded. "I think we both know," she said quietly, "that this 
is not a tragic mistake. Is it, slut?"

Suzanne's cold voice echoed in my head, that delicious feeling of submission 
washed over me and my whole body tingled. My face burned but I understood 
myself better at that moment then I had ever before. "No, Mistress,' I 
croaked, face burning and body trembling.

Suzanne smiled slightly and she calmly arranged herself in the visitor's 
chair, crossing her legs so the nylon of her hose rasped. "Strip down to 
your underwear, slut," she said calmly. I gasped as arousal, embarrassment 
and submission rolled over me and slowly undressed. Face burning I stood in 
front of her in my bra, sheer pantyhose and high heels as she looked me up 
and down. "Turn around slowly, slut," she said and, trembling I did. "Hands 
on your head," she snapped and I complied. "Lovely," she murmured to herself 
as I pirouetted before her. "Are you aroused, slut?'

"Yes Mistress," I murmured, face down as I twirled before her with my hands 
still on my head, knowing my breasts were jiggling in the black lace bra.

"Stand still. How do you know you are aroused, slut?"

"My vagina, Mistress," I answered hesitantly, "is moist."

"No," she interrupted me sharply. "Not vagina, cunt or pussy. Say it!"

"Mistress," I said in a low voice, face red, "my cunt is wet."

"Louder."

"Mistress, my cunt is wet." My voice rang in the room and she smiled at me 
in triumph.

"Come here and show me," Suzanne said as she extended her hand so it was a 
fist. "Hump yourself on my fist, slut." Face burning, my breathing rough and 
ragged, I straddled her fist and rubbed my nylon covered pussy against it 
while I kept my hands on my head. I almost came at her touch and I rose 
closer and closer to orgasm as she looked up at me as I writhed on her fist. 
"You are such a slut," she murmured and I gasped as the pleasure rose within 
me until she removed her hand. It was a loss, I was so close and she smiled 
cruelly at me. "You come when I say so. Remove the bra and get the scissors 
so you can cut the pantyhose. I want your pussy exposed. Quickly!" It felt 
strange walking through the deserted office in my pantyhose, heels and bra 
to get the scissors and stranger still to cut the crotch out of my pantyhose 
so my pussy was in the open.

My large breasts hung free as I stood before her. "On the desk," she snapped 
and I lay on it quickly. "Legs apart, I want to examine your cunt." I lay 
exposed as she looked but did not touch. "Nice plump lips but all this hair 
has to go, slut."

"Yes Mistress," I murmured, head turned away in my secret humiliation and my 
hair spreading on the desk.

"Put your raincoat on, slut. We are going." I struggled to do the raincoat 
up and Suzanne laughed when she saw how my breasts were squeezed together as 
I closed the buttons. Ordered to leave it undone below the waist, she 
suddenly pulled me to her and kissed me, her lips crushing mine as her 
tongue took ownership of my mouth. I felt her fingers brush my pussy as we 
stood there in that wild embrace and gasped when her fingers invaded me. "So 
wet," she breathed in my ear.

"Yes Mistress," I moaned.

Her finger danced on my mouth. "Taste yourself," she instructed as her 
finger slid in and out of my mouth. "Good slut," she whispered. "Now you 
will get to come, darling." Her fingers stroked and caressed my aching pussy 
as she held me in a tight embrace. Her lips crushed mine again as I rose 
closer and closer until I cried out with the power, the explosion of the 
type I had never felt before.

Suzanne made me play with myself in the darkness in the back of the taxi as 
we drove to her house in Chelsea. My clothes and my handbag had been left 
behind in a cupboard in her office and I was still dressed in the raincoat, 
ripped pantyhose and heels. I was sure the taxi driver knew something was 
going on but I kept stroking and caressing myself under the cover of the 
blue raincoat. Suzanne leaned over and kissed me once and I saw the drivers 
eyes widen in the rear view mirror. "Are you wet, slut?" she whispered 
softly in my ear, her warm breath caressing my neck.

"Yes Mistress," I whispered in return and she smiled in the darkness as 
London crawled past.

As we stood on the pavement looking up at her house, Suzanne said, "I call 
it the Chelsea Hotel," and laughed. "Leonard Cohen, slut," she explained 
when I looked puzzled. "I certainly have to educate you."

The house was warm and gorgeous but Suzanne didn't waste anytime showing me 
around. "The bathroom is in there," she said. "Run my bath. Now, slut!" she 
snapped and I rushed to do what she said, my raincoat rustling as I hurried. 
"Take that coat off," Suzanne said on my return. "I'll have a Gin and tonic, 
you'll find the drinks there." Practically naked while she remained clothed, 
I did as instructed and handed her the drink. As she sipped it, she pointed 
at the floor near her feet and I sank down onto the carpet. Slipping her 
shoes off, she sighed and offered me her foot. "I need a massage, slut. 
Gently."

The bath was ready and she pulled herself to her feet. "The guest bathroom 
is there. You can have a quick shower as well as removing that hair," 
Suzanne said, glancing down at my pussy. "When you are finished, you will 
wait for me on your knees in my bedroom. Understood?"

"Yes Mistress," I said quickly and she stared deeply into my eyes.

"You will do everything I say, slut," she said, gently weighing my breasts 
with her hands. "The first time you don't do what I say or, worse, lie to me 
or disobey me, this is over, finished. Clear?"

I felt an immediate sense of loss and I knew I did not want this ever to 
end. "Yes, Mistress."

Feeling so vulnerable, so open and more naked than ever before with my 
smooth pubic mound and my protruding plump pussy lips, I knelt at the floor 
of my Mistress's bed. After an eternity, she swirled into the room in a 
black negligee, a glass of wine in her hand and her perfume washing over the 
room. "I prefer the room like this," Suzanne said as she dimmed the lights. 
"Remember that."

"Yes Mistress."

"Have you licked a woman before, slut?" she asked as she arranged herself on 
the bed and I shook my head. "I will teach you to please me, slut. You don't 
get to come again until I have got my fill. Come to me," she said softly, 
patting the bed and I lay beside her. "You look like a little girl with your 
bald cunt," she said, smiling and I blushed. "Still coy and I do enjoy your 
little blushes," she murmured as she lowered her face to mine and her lips 
tenderly caressed mine. After a few moments, she pointed down at her pussy 
and I slowly crawled down to begin my education.

Many hours later as I lay next to her in the dark listening to her deep 
breathing as she slept, I played the events of the night over and over in my 
mind. My fingers wonderingly touched my lips where the taste of my Mistress 
remained and I recalled the many orgasms I had helped her to reach while I 
remained denied, waiting for her instructions.

She stirred in her sleep and pushed against me and I snuggled against her 
thinking, as I fell asleep, that I was the luckiest girl alive and, maybe, 
tomorrow my Mistress may let me come.

After a late brunch, Suzanne looked me up and down. "I have to find 
something for you to wear. Follow me." I waited patiently as she rummaged 
through her wardrobe and she tossed me a pair of black jeans, a fisherman's 
pullover and socks and gym shoes. "Try those," she said and I pulled the 
jeans on without underwear and, although a bit loose around the waist and 
long in the leg, if I rolled them up I was presentable. The bulky 
fisherman's jumper hid my loose breasts and the shoes slipped on easily.

My blue raincoat completed the outfit and, self-conscious with no underwear, 
I followed my Mistress into the grey morning. The first stop was the 
hairdressers and with no input from me what so ever, Suzanne dictated how my 
hair s was to be cut and styled. I gasped when I saw my reflection, I looked 
so stylish, so elegant with my hair shorter. Next on the list was a 
beautician where a young gay guy made up my face to Suzanne's directions. 
Again, I was shocked as I gaped at the reflection.

"She's very beautiful," he said to Suzanne, fluffing my hair slightly as he 
studied the reflection.

Suzanne stared at the reflection. "I know," she said softly. "I know."

With the instructions on how to make my face up firmly in my raincoat 
pocket, Suzanne led the way into a lingerie boutique. "You will never buy M. 
& S. again," she said sternly as we wandered through the racks as she 
selected panties, bras and slips for me to wear.

"No Mistress," I said and the sales assistant looked sharply at us in 
surprise while Suzanne beamed proudly.

More shops and more clothes and I was trying a black leather skirt and top 
on when Suzanne suddenly appeared in the dressing room so I stood still 
while she inspected me. "Beautiful," she breathed. "Pull up the skirt so I 
can see your bald pussy, slut," she said softly and I immediately complied. 
I marvelled at how easily I now followed instructions but I also knew I 
wanted to, no needed to, as disobedience would cause me to lose Suzanne.

So I stood in the changing room of the busy store, displaying my newly 
shaven pussy to my new mistress, separated from the hubbub and eyes of the 
ordinary women who milled outside by one thin curtain.

Suzanne insisted I wear the new leather skirt and top with new boots and my 
old favourite blue raincoat and, as we left the shops, I could not recall a 
moment in my life when I had been happier.

We lunched at a fashionable restaurant where everyone seemed to know 
Suzanne, dropping by the table to talk while frankly inspecting me. I said 
nothing unless spoken to and always answered carefully, as I didn't want to 
embarrass Suzanne.

"I'm very pleased with you," she said as she sipped her wine, a soft smile 
on her beautiful face.

"Thank you Mistress," I said, eyes lowered. "I try hard to please you."

"Why?"

I thought carefully but the answer was obvious. "Because I care for you very 
deeply, Mistress."

Suzanne sipped her wine thoughtfully. "Thank you," she said simply. We sat 
in silence for a moment and then she cleared her throat. "There is one 
thing," she said softly. "I am not going to demand it, I'm going to ask you 
and you can say no to me this one time." I looked up and saw she was misty 
eyed. "Will you go to a speech coach to remove your accent?"

"Would it please you, Mistress?"

"Yes," Suzanne said and then said in a rush, "It will make it easier for you 
to fit in for our future life." She tailed off and waited anxiously.

"I will do it, Mistress," I said.

"Are you sure because from what Nancy said you were very enthusiastic about 
keeping your Mersey identity?"

"That was before I met you, Mistress. You are my identity now," I said 
simply and a single tear rolled down Suzanne's cheek.
(nessus29@hotmail.com)

Part 4:You Know Who I Am
(all of the moments that we will be.
You know who I am...)

I think we were a little tipsy from the wine when we staggered into 
Suzanne's Chelsea housel with all our packages. Suzanne dropped the 
packages, grabbed me and kissed me passionately. "Lick me," she breathed and 
I slid to my knees, slowly raising her skirt and, after pulling her panties 
to one side, buried my lips to her wet pussy.

She came so easily.

But she did not allow me to come.

The afternoon drifted by as we read the newspapers, listen to music and 
talked. I told her everything, not holding anything back as I discovered I 
could not lie to her so I told her things about myself that I had never told 
anyone.

As I soaped her back in the bath, she sang softly to herself and I wondered 
how I had spent my life without this woman, my mistress. Suzanne smiled at 
me as she stepped from the bath and her fingers lightly caressed my bald 
pussy as I towelled her, causing a soft moan to escape me. "You are such a 
slut, darling," she said, smiling, her body pink and rosy from the bath.

Suzanne dressed in slinky black leather pants, black silk top and leather 
bomber jacket with high heel boots. She picked a pair of tan stockings from 
our shopping, a caramel garter belt, and stiletto shoes, handing them to me. 
"Put these on after you've done your face." As I followed her instructions, 
I heard her order a taxi.

"Hands behind your back," she said when she returned and a delicious feeling 
rippled through as I did, feeling her strap my elbows and my wrists together 
so my shoulders were pulled back. Suzanne smiled as she strapped a black 
leather collar around my throat because she had noticed my ragged breathing. 
As a final touch, she applied rouge to my nipples and to my labia, even my 
clit and led me to the mirror so I could see myself. I blushed at the 
reflection as I stood naked except for stockings, high heels and garter 
belt, my large breasts appearing even larger by having my shoulders forced 
back and my nipples and slit emphasised by the rouge.

"We are going to a party, little slut," Suzanne said as she studied my 
reflection. Going out, I thought in shock? "Only speak when spoken to and 
you must keep your legs apart all night so everyone can see what a slut you 
are. Understand?"

"Yes Mistress," I croaked, wet with arousal. Suzanne draped a long black 
cape around me to cover my nakedness, drawing it closed around my neck and 
she led me to the waiting taxi. Remembering her words, I sat in the back 
seat with my legs apart and I felt Suzanne's hand slip under the cape as she 
gave the driver an address down by the river.

I felt so vulnerable, so submissive and so exposed that I was sure I was 
leaving wet patches on the cape where I sat on it, especially since 
Suzanne's fingers occasionally flicked my aching clit. We stoped at a large 
warehouse and Suzanne led the way in and I saw it was a dimly lit club of 
some sort with music playing and women dancing. I realised there were only 
women and I gasped in shock as Suzanne removed by cape and casually gave it 
to the young woman at the door. From her bag, Suzanne retrieved a leash, 
snapped it on the collar and led me naked across the dance floor to a group 
of tables. Women stopped dancing and watched us as we passed, some greeted 
Suzanne by name but their eyes never left my body as my face burned in 
humiliation and shame.

We reached a table and Suzanne pulled a chair slightly away from it and 
gestured for me to sit. I did so with my arms strapped behind me with my 
legs apart as she tied the leash to the back of the chair. Without a word, 
she strolled over to the bar, leaving me vulnerable and exposed while she 
chatted with a group of women.

Two women stood before me, their eyes roaming over my body. "Fantastic 
tits," one said and the other nodded, her eyes staring at my open crotch.

"She's got lipstick or something on her pussy," she said and they giggled 
as, arm in arm, they walked away.

Suzanne accompanied another woman returned and they sat at the table, drinks 
in their hands.

"She's very lovely, Suzanne," the woman commented, her eyes appraising me.

"Yes, she is and she's such a slut. Aren't you?" she said, staring coldly at 
me.

"Yes Mistress," I whispered.

"What?"

"I am a slut, Mistress," I said more loudly and the other woman laughed.

Suzanne leaned over and slipped her finger into my pussy. "She's so wet," 
she smirked as I gasped. "I could fist her so easily. Look," Suzanne said 
and her companion leaned over to watch as Suzanne slipped two more fingers 
into me, sawing them in and out as I moaned. "You like that, slut?"

"Yes Mistress," I moaned, eyes closing. Suddenly her hand stopped, the 
fingers withdrew and I felt something moving on my stomach. I looked down 
and saw she had written something on my stomach in lipstick."

"I know who you are," Suzanne said, leaning close and kissing me softly on 
the ear.  Suddenly, she and her companion stood. "We're going to dance," she 
announced and both walked away.

As they danced, some women gathered around me, staring down at me. "What 
does it say?" one asked, pointing at the lipstick marks on my stomach.

"Feel the slut," another supplied the answer and a black woman squatted in 
front of me, her fingers tugging at my pussy for a moment until she slid two 
fingers into me. I moaned as another stood behind me and cupped my breasts.

"I always wanted to have tits this big," she giggled as the black woman ran 
her fingers in and out.

"She's so fucking wet," she said, wiping her fingers over my breasts and 
they walked away laughing as I sat in shame. It was like that all night, 
fingers caressing me, wiping my own juices over my body and my face, 
constantly bringing me to a higher and high pitch of arousal but never 
coming.
Finally, Suzanne released the leash and led me to a bowl in the corner of 
the club. "Squat and pee, dear. You must have to go by now."

I looked at her in shock and realised the whole room had become silent as 
everyone watched. Face burning, I squatted over the metal bowl and released 
my urine in a stream as everyone laughed and clapped. A smile of triumph on 
her face, Suzanne lay the cape around me once again and, suddenly seizing me 
crushed her velvet lips against mine in a soul-claiming kiss.

Back at Chelsea, I knelt with my arms still bound and serviced my Mistress's 
pussy, her dark pubic hair slick with juices and I realised she had become 
aroused by controlling me. Proudly, I gave her several orgasms and in the 
early hours of the morning, she released my arms and allowed me the 
delicious humiliation of masturbating to orgasm in front of her.

"You know who I am," I whispered into her mane of dark hair as we held each 
other before sleep.

"And who is that, darling?" she answered drowsily.

"Yours."
(nessus29@hotmail.com)

Part 5: So Long Marianne
(Come over to the window, my little darling,
I'd like to try to read your palm.)

The subject of Lenny came up on Monday night. Although I hadn't returned to 
my flat, I assumed his messages would be waiting for me on my answering 
machine but I didn't know what to say, how to explain my new hairstyle or 
look. I had worn the new clothes to work that morning and Nancy had looked 
me up and down and softly whistled. "A change of lifestyle over the weekend, 
Marianne?" she asked. "Love your hair and you look gorgeous."

Suzanne and I had arrived at work at different times and she treated me 
exactly the same way she had the Monday before, although I felt her eyes on 
me from time to time. That night, as I sat by her feet gently massaging them 
while she smoked a cigarette, she asked, "What are you going to do about 
that boyfriend of yours?"

"I don't know, Mistress," I said softly. "I don't want to hurt him."

Suzanne sighed. "Sweet gentle passive Marianne," she said as she blew smoke 
into the air. "Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind." She looked down 
at me and smiled softly. "I'll do it for you. Would you like that?"

"Yes Mistress."

"Call him and invite him to dinner at your flat tomorrow night and I'll come 
to. I want to see your little place before you move out to live with me. You 
do want to live with me?"

My heart leapt and I beamed up at her. "Oh yes, Mistress, more than 
anything."

Gently, she patted my cheek. "Sweet Marianne but such a slut underneath," 
she murmured.

Lenny wanted to know where I had been. "I've been really busy at work," I 
explained, "with my new job. Anyway, I want you to come around tomorrow 
night for dinner as I'm having my boss over."

"Quaint," Suzanne said as she wandered through my little flat and I flinched 
in embarrassment as I suddenly saw it as it was. This was not Suzanne's 
Chelsea Hotel but a cold cramped flat and I all ready yearned to return to 
the comforts of Chelsea where I felt so at home, where I could be true to 
myself.

Suzanne bubbled along over dinner and I could see she charmed Lenny in every 
way, although he kept glancing at me from time to time. "You're quiet, 
darl," he said once as Suzanne opened another bottle of wine.

"Just tired," I said softly.

"She's all right, isn't she," he said, nodding at Suzanne who was searching 
the kitchen for new glasses.
My heart surged when I saw her in the golden light of the kitchen, 
stretching up to the cupboard and I wanted her to make me feel safe, to take 
me home.

At the end of the dinner after Suzanne had described her first motorbike 
experience to an enthralled Lenny, she suddenly announced that she would 
clean up so Lenny and I could catch up. Lenny half-heartedly protested, 
glancing at me but I kept my eyes lowered.

As I carried plates into the kitchen, Suzanne turned to me, glancing over my 
shoulder to make sure Lenny was in the other room, sorting through CDs. 
"Suck his cock," she said to me calmly and I looked at her in shock. "When I 
come out of here, I want to see you kneeling in front of him and sucking his 
cock. You've done it before, do it again! No ifs, no buts, you just do it!" 
she hissed.

"Yes Mistress," I said, eyes lowered and she gently tilted my head up.

"It's for the best, darling."

The room was half-lit by the candles still on the dining table and Lenny was 
standing next to the window, looking down onto the street when I came back 
in.  He started to talk about what he and the lads had got up to in Spain 
when I cut him short by kissing him passionately while dishes rattled in the 
little kitchen.

My fingers brushed his cock and it was hard so I unzipped him, to free it so 
I could get this terrible moment over with. "What are you doing?" he hissed, 
eyes darting to the kitchen but I just smiled up at him as I sank to my 
knees. He groaned as I started to suck him, a low guttural moan when my 
tongue caressed the head of his cock.

I sensed a movement as something brushed past me but, although I kept 
sucking, I could see Suzanne's legs as she stood next to Lenny. "What the 
fuck!" he exclaimed.

"It's all right, Lenny," I heard her say. "Look at her, she's such a slut, 
isn't she?" He moaned as the moment obviously aroused him even more. I felt 
Suzanne's hand push me back and, still kneeling, I saw her hand curl around 
his cock, slowly moving up and down.

"Look at her, Lenny," she whispered as her hand moved. "Kneeling there so 
you can come all over her face. Such a slut." He groaned and I saw her other 
hand had slipped behind him. "Feels nice, doesn't it?" she said in his ear 
as her hand kept up it's relentless movement.

"She's a slut but, Lenny, she's my slut." His body tensed and I knelt, 
waiting. "It's time to say goodbye, to say so long Marianne." He groaned 
loudly, grunted and shuddered and soon his sperm was flying through the air 
to land on my face, running down my cheeks as Suzanne firmly milked him.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Lenny tucked himself back in, glaring 
down at me as I knelt before him with his cum running down my face. "You 
fucking bitch!" he said hoarsely.

"Calm down, Lenny," soothed Suzanne. "You can't give her what I can, what 
she needs. It's time to say goodbye." He raised his hand to slap me and I 
waited for it. "Don't," Suzanne said quietly. "There's no point." They 
locked eyes for a long moment and then he stormed out, glaring at me for a 
moment and then slammed the door.

I never saw him again.

Suzanne lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and blew smoke through the room then 
smiled down at me. "Clean that disgusting mess of your face, darling," she 
said brightly. "Then we'll pack your things so you won't have to come back 
here again."
(nessus29@hotmail.com

Part 6: Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye
(I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time,
walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme)

Suzanne and I were together for nine wonderful years.

Such sweet and sad memories carry me through my life.

I remember evenings at her house, snuggled together as we talked and kissed 
softly, such tenderness, such love. Other times, she would demand I bend 
over the bed, hands bound while she caned my bottom until the tears ran down 
my face.

I remember the time, soon after our relationship became public, she took me 
again to that private club down by the river, pushed me face down over a 
table and fucked me with an obscenely pink strap on while the audience 
cheered.

There was the other time she took me, naked under my skirt, to a seedy 
tattoo shop where she had some old man tattoo a black rose next to my pussy. 
He kept staring at my bald cunt while he worked my face crimson as people 
wandered in and out of the shop as Suzanne smoked and smiled down at me.

Another time, instead of going home, we drove to the airport and flew to 
Paris for a wonderful weekend of love, sex and submission. I remember being 
spanked in the hotel while the city of Paris spread out below me.

We worked well together and I became editor while she remained as publisher. 
`Cut' magazine was a real force, the voice of alternative fashion. After a 
one successful year, tipsy with wine, she informed me I was going to get 
pregnant so we could raise a daughter together. She just hadn't figured out 
how to do it but it would happen, she assured me.

Such a crazy beautiful woman but her plan failed, as she became very sick. 
It came in a rush and the diagnosis hit me, a sense of loss that overwhelmed 
me. Suzanne became very ill so quickly and I spent all my time nursing her 
at the Chelsea house.

She lost so much weight as well as her energy but she never lost her love of 
life. I read the poems of Leonard Cohen to her while she lay in our bed, her 
long dark hair splayed out of the white pillow.

One morning as the weak Sun was trying to stir some life into the city, she 
took my hand, a faint smile on her lips and for a moment I saw the old 
Suzanne. "Thank you," she said simply, squeezing my hand as tears fell from 
my eyes. "I remember you well at the Chelsea Hotel," she quoted softly and 
smiled.

And died.

I held her and sobbed, my whole body rocked with pain and loss as the noise 
of the living city sounded from the streets outside. The one reason for my 
life had gone, the one guiding and directive force in my life had vanished 
and I was all alone. When I finished crying for Suzanne, I cried for myself.

Everyone from the fashion industry was at the funeral and I sat in the front 
row, so alone, so sad and so afraid. It was a small church and the grey and 
dismal day outside contrasted with the flowers that lay around the coffin.

At last, it was my time to speak and the church was absolutely silent as I 
stood in front of the microphone, everyone wondering what I was going to 
say. My hands were trembling as I looked at the small white cards I had 
carefully printed my speech on and a sudden image of a sardonic smiling 
Suzanne flashed in front of my eyes.

I took a deep breath and tossed the cards into the air and the audience 
gasped. "That was my speech," I said, my voice breaking slightly. "All nice 
things about fashion and the world but this is what she would have wanted to 
hear." Tears pricking my eyes, I began to recite.

"Now Suzanne takes your hand
And she leads you to the river
She is wearing rags and feathers
 From Salvation Army counters
And the sun pours down like honey
On our lady of the harbour
And she shows you where to look
Among the garbage and the flowers
There are heroes in the seaweed
There are children in the morning
They are leaning out for love
And they will lean that way forever
While Suzanne holds the mirror
And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know that you can trust her
For she's touched your perfect body with her mind"

The church was hushed and I knew the tears were rolling down my face and 
even the black veil no longer hid them. Trembling, I removed the hat and 
veil and stood proudly staring out at the audience, my face streaked with 
tears.

"And I loved her so," I said and I could hear someone crying in the church 
while others sniffled. "I love her so much and I know she loved me. Goodbye, 
Suzanne, I don't know how I will live without you."
(nessus29@hotmail.com

Part 7:Seems So Long Ago, Nancy
(It seems so long ago,
none of us were strong)

I quit the magazine and retreated to the Chelsea house that Suzanne had left 
me, wandering the rooms and touching her things. The songs of Leonard Cohen 
were on constantly and I read all her books, learning and devouring every 
last vestige of her. Slowly, I rebuilt my life as I learned to take control 
and make decisions but I was always alone and I always missed her. The 
famous blue raincoat hung alone in the wardrobe but occasionally I would 
take it out just to feel it and to remember.

After a almost a year, I was lying in the bath, staring at my body as I 
remembered the things she used to do to me and suddenly it seemed to be 
another person that had achieved that ecstasy. My eyes were drawn to my 
pubic hair that I had grown back but kept trimmed so I could always see the 
black rose tattoo and idly wondered if I would ever masturbate again. It was 
at that moment I decided to take control of my life, to stop regretting and 
to move forward while always remembering.

Feverishly, I threw myself back into design, working long hours and totally 
focussed on finishing a complete collection. A friend of Suzanne's helped me 
to find a financial backer and my label was launched six months later.

Nervously, I waited backstage until the last models took my hands and walked 
with me out onto the catwalk to the glare of lights and thunderous applause. 
I looked around at the audience, recognising many as they stood to applaud 
and I knew I had finally moved on.

"Thank you all so much," I said in the cultured voice that was a lasting 
legacy of Suzanne.

Later, exhausted after circulating through the crowd, I stood in a corner 
and sipped champagne when a voice made me turn around. "Darling, you look 
and sound like you belong here."

I whirled to see a smiling but older Nancy. "I've always been in London," I 
smiled. "I come from London." We both squealed and hugged each other, 
laughing and wiping eyes. "I thought you lived in New York?" I asked. "You 
still have your accent," I mocked.

"Darling, Americans are such suckers for a good British accent." She held me 
at arm length and looked me up and down. "Marianne, you look fantastic as 
usual and the collection is stunning. Suzanne would have been so proud," she 
added quietly.

"Thank you," I said softly, eyes pricking.

"So, how are you really?"

"Better," I said brightly. "Getting better every day."

"Good," Nancy said, hugging me. "God, it's good to see you. You see that man 
in the black suit over there?" Nancy pointed at a man who waved at her. As 
she waved back, she said, "That's my husband."

"You're married?" I said incredulously.

"I know, stupid of me but he actually loves me so what could I do?" Nancy 
laughed again then a serious look appeared on her face. "What about you? You 
got anyone?" I shook my head. "Have you been with anyone since you lost 
her?" Again, I shook my head, tears prickling. "Marianne," Nancy said, 
seizing my arms and gazing steadily into my eyes, "it won't ever be the same 
but it can be different. She would have wanted you to live life, you know," 
she added quietly and I looked away, blinking. "I was her oldest friend, 
Marianne and do you know what she would say to you if she could be here 
right now?"

The lump in my throat felt huge but I manage to say, "No, what?"

"Nice collection, darling, but you can't fuck clothes." Nancy started to 
smile and I couldn't help but smile back until we were both laughing and 
hugging.

That night, I sat in front of the crackling fire and realised Nancy was 
right, Suzanne would have told me how pathetic I was, how useless and how I 
should get on with it. I was smiling wryly to myself when the doorbell rang. 
""ho is it?" I said into the intercom.

"It's Jane from `Cut' magazine, we had arranged an interview? I'm a little 
early but I thought it would be all right."

I had forgotten I had agreed for my old magazine to feature my collection. 
"That's all right," I said wondering if I looked all right as I was just 
wearing a black silk pants suit. "Please come in," I said as I opened the 
door.

Jane was a young dark haired woman, about twenty-five years of age and 
dressed in wool skirt, shapeless jumper and grey coat. "Thank you, this is 
very nice," she said looking around.

"Thank you. In here would be best, I think," I said leading the way.

"Who's that singing?" she said as she sat on the sofa.

"Leonard Cohen. Would you care for some white wine? I'm having one."

"Thank you, that would be nice." Jane took her coat off and she seemed to be 
nervous around me, her fingers trembled as I handed her the glass.

"Now," I said briskly, leaning back in the chair as the fire crackled, "what 
do you want to know?"

"I just wanted to confirm some facts," she said, eyes dropping to her notes. 
"I've done a lot of research."

"Really?" I smiled, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," she said and she blushed. "The magazine wants you to be on the cover, 
that's exciting, isn't it?' she rushed on as if to cover some embarrassment.

"I've been on the cover before."

"I know," Jane said softly and pulled out the old cover, my gagged wide-eyed 
face staring up at me.

"God," I laughed, "I haven't seen that for years." I sat still for a moment 
remembering.

"You were very beautiful," she whispered.

"Thank you," I said, staring at the Suzanne's lipstick mark on the white 
ball-gag.

"You still are," Jane murmured, eyes down and I looked up.

"Thank you again," I said slowly, watching her. "What other facts would you 
like to confirm?'

"You worked a long time with the founder of the magazine?"

"Suzanne and I were lovers," I said firmly and she gave a sharp intake of 
breath. "Is that confirming something for you?" I said and she nodded.

We sat in silence for a moment, Leonard Cohen singing `Famous Blue Raincoat' 
in the background and I sipped my wine as I watched her breasts rise and 
fall in the shapeless jumper. Jane was quite beautiful in a dark gipsylike 
way, about the same age I was when I first met Suzanne.

I sat back in the chair, crossed my legs and studied her. Jane sat with her 
hands in her lap, eyes down and I could hear her ragged breathing over the 
music as I remembered another time and another place.

"Have you ever wanted to own someone, own them completely?" I said softly. 
"I do," I added, realising it was true. "Of course, the person must want to 
be owned, to be loved completely and to give up control. I believe that's 
you, isn't it?"

I waited as she rushed to gather her things, her hands shaking as she shoved 
papers into her bag. "I'd better go," she croaked, jumping to her feet and 
nervously looking around.

"I know it's hard to recognise something which we've buried deep inside 
ourselves but, sooner or later, you will." I gazed at her steadily, casually 
sipping my wine. "I believe I asked you a question?" I said firmly and her 
head jerked around, eyes wide. "I think you came here tonight to answer that 
question."

"Yes," she murmured, head down.

"Yes, what?" I snapped, placing my glass on the table beside me while she 
looked at me in confusion. "I'll explain it once. When we are alone you 
refer to me as Mistress or Madame, even Milady is acceptable while I will 
simply call you slut. Understand?"

She looked at me open mouthed, standing shakily against the door and her bag 
slipped to the floor. "Of course," I said coldly. "I could be mistaken and 
you don't want me to own you. Nor do you want me to control you and tell you 
what to do every moment of your life. Yes, I could be terribly wrong and 
this could be a tragic mistake. You should scream at me, stomp out, rush off 
to that magazine and write a terribly nasty article about me. Don't forget 
to slam the door on the way out."

Leonard had finished singing and the only sound in the room for a long 
moment was her ragged breathing as she trembled before me. I stood in front 
of the fire with my arms folded, just like Suzanne so long ago. "I think we 
both know," I said quietly, "that this is not a tragic mistake. Under that 
prim and proper appearance, there lies a wanton slut who needs to be 
controlled and you will prove it to me by lifting your skirt now to show me 
what you are wearing under neath.."

Janes hands were shaking as she slowly gripped the hem of her skirt and 
started to raise it. I smiled in satisfaction. "Do not disobey me again, 
slut," I snapped as she pulled the skirt to her waist and stood there, 
revealed and trembling.

"No, Mistress," she croaked.

Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear
Did you ever go clear?
(Nessus29@hotmail.com)
All my stories are archived at www.asstr-mirror.org/index.html in the author's 
section
As always, interested in your comments (nessus29@hotmail.com)

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