The Ultimate Submission (Jacqueline's Story)
By Gato Medio

Chapter 13

[Caroline - Part 2]

When I arrived at Caroline's apartment the next day, she
opened the door dressed in a silk gown which showed off
her stunning figure to best advantage. The garment was
held together around her waist and whenever she walked
and later when she sat down the gown opened and her
beautiful long legs came into view.

I was amazed to see her like that. My surprise must have
shown on my face, because she said, "I hope you don't
mind that I receive you like this. I had a quick shower
when I got home and there wasn't enough time to get fully
dressed."

Caroline had laid a small table and asked me if I
preferred tea or coffee. I opted for tea and she
disappeared into the kitchen to prepare it. I had a look
around the room. It gave the impression that the person
owning this place was quite wealthy. Everything was of
the finest quality and had been carefully chosen to
combine with everything else. Although this wasn't how I
would have decorated my own home, I had to admire
Caroline's good taste.

When the tea was ready, Caroline made me sit down on a
small sofa and then sat down next to me, her legs almost
touching mine. I found her a warm and charming person;
any shyness had disappeared. Perhaps being in the
familiar surroundings of her own home made her feel more
secure, more relaxed. I started to wonder which of the
many Carolines I had met so far was the real Caroline.

As I was a guest in her place, I thought it appropriate
to wait for Caroline to start the conversation. I didn't
have to wait long. Soon she said, "There are so many
things I want to tell you, I hardly know where to start."

I suggested to start at the beginning and she accepted my
suggestion.

"I'm twenty-two years old now. When I got married I
wasn't yet eighteen."

That hit me like a bombshell.

"You're married?" I asked.

"I'm a widow. Billy, my husband, died more than a year
ago."

I told her how sorry I was to hear about her loss.

"You probably wonder why I got married so young. No, it
wasn't an unexpected pregnancy. We were infatuated with
each other. We couldn't keep our hands off each other. We
were constantly rolling around on some bed. Quite often
we didn't make it to the nearest bed, so strong was our
passion. You wouldn't believe the things we used to get
up to.

"I didn't feel that our relationship needed an official
stamp of approval but Billy insisted that we get married.
He wanted to make sure that I would be provided for. You
see, he was a test pilot - no, not airplanes, motorbikes.
He used to test those heavy racing machines and fine tune
them to get the best performance out of them. This job
was considered dangerous and the people he worked for
took out a life insurance policy in his name as part of
his contract.

"Although Billy never seriously believed that anything
could happen to him, he assumed that I could only benefit
from the insurance as his lawfully wedded wife. So I
finally gave in to his pleas and agreed to get married.
Billy was twenty-one at the time.

"In addition to his job, Billy also participated in bike
races on the weekend. Not the big international events;
small amateur races on secondary race tracks. Billy loved
motor racing, it was his number one passion. I only came
in second place; I wouldn't even say I was a close
second. In the beginning, I tried to compete with his
number one passion, tried to force him to choose between
me and racing, but I soon realised that I couldn't win.

"Then, I tried to share his passion for the sport. I went
to a few races with him, but by the time it was over I
was a nervous wreck. So I stayed at home waiting for his
phone call. He always called me immediately after each
race to tell me that he was okay.

"That day, when the accident happened, the phone also
rang, but I knew instinctively that it wasn't him
calling. I almost fainted before answering the phone.
It's ironic that his number one passion did not want to
share him with me and took him away from me for good."

As she spoke I had placed my hand on hers to comfort her.
It was clear from the tone of her voice that it was not
easy for her to talk about Billy's death. And I believed
she had all the reasons in the world to feel cheated by
life.

"The life insurance only covered accidents during the
exercise of his job. Participation in races in his spare
time was not included. However, his employers persuaded
the insurance company to pay up and I received a
considerable sum of money. But I didn't want any money. I
wanted Billy back. Without him, life wasn't worth living.

"I went into a state of deep depression, refusing to eat
and sleeping very little. I didn't have the guts to
commit suicide, but I was in the process of killing
myself slowly by refusing my body the food and sleep it
needed. When Billy's parents noticed the decline in my
physical and mental health, they had me placed
immediately in a hospital where I could receive
psychiatric treatment.

"There were daily sessions with psychiatrists and
psychoanalysts. It took me a long time to accept that
Billy had gone for ever, that nothing could bring him
back and that my life had to go on. When my physical
health had recovered and the doctors were confident that
I wouldn't do myself any harm, I was released from
hospital. I continue to see a psychoanalyst twice a week.
It was her who suggested I should get a job to keep me
occupied and to give me a chance to meet other people.

"That's how I joined the department where Claude works,
about three months ago. I don't need the money - I have
enough for the rest of my life - and the job isn't
challenging nor satisfying, but it gives me something to
do during the day.

"I was completely unprepared for the impact my arrival at
the department had on my male colleagues. At first they
showered me with compliments about my good looks. When
they found out that I was living on my own - I didn't yet
feel strong enough to talk about Billy - they kept asking
me for a date.

"The idea of starting a relationship with another man
terrified me. It wasn't that I had decided to be faithful
to Billy even after his death. It wasn't that I thought
no other man could replace Billy. It was the fear that I
wouldn't be able to handle it, should that relationship
ever end.

"I didn't want to get emotionally involved with anybody
for fear of disintegrating emotionally if it ended. The
pain I experienced over losing Billy had been so intense,
nothing seemed to justify risking a repetition of that
pain. I decided to tell my suitors that my refusal to
accept their invitations wasn't anything personal, I just
wasn't interested in men. And as a kind of proof I put up
pictures of scantily-clad women on my office wall - which
brings us to your picture and the reason why we are here
together today.

"Although most of what I told my male colleagues about
being attracted to women was just a trick to keep them
off my back, there was something on that poster which
attracted me. It wasn't your body, it was your face. It
has this serene expression of a person who is at peace
with herself and with the world, a fulfilled, happy
person. I was almost the exact opposite, and your face
gave me hope that I could one day achieve this state of
happiness again."

I was touched by her description of my face and amazed by
how much she could see in a simple photograph of a girl
in sexy underwear. But she was right: I had been feeling
happy and fulfilled when the picture was taken and it
probably showed. Come to think of it, feeling happy and
fulfilled and being with Ramon were almost synonymous.

"Of course, I didn't lose my sex drive because of Billy's
death. Once I had recovered the will to live, my sexual
desire also returned. But as I didn't want to get
involved with anybody, I was reduced to having sex on my
own. I started a collection of sexy lingerie, scouring
the shops for the most seductive garments I could find.

"I would put on those flimsy clothes and would stand or
sit in front of a large mirror. I'd let myself be seduced
by that woman I saw in the mirror who was removing her
underwear in the most sensual, most suggestive way
possible. And later, when I masturbated, I made love to
that beautiful creature who writhed and moaned under my
expert touch."

That was the most romantic description of a woman
masturbating I had ever heard. I wanted to be that image
in the mirror which seduced her, I wanted to feel her
hands on my body and I wanted to return the pleasure she
would give me by making love to her. I embraced her
tenderly and we stayed like that for a long time.

"One of the dangers of these sessions was that I would
think of Billy, that I would start to bemoan my loss and
sink into depression. My analyst accepts that I'm not yet
ready to see other men and considers masturbation a
healthy and normal alternative. She also realises that I
can't block Billy completely from my mind. So she
prescribed me some anti-depressants or 'uppers' as
they're sometimes called, with the instruction to take
one of them whenever I feel in a depressed or anxious
mood.

"When Claude told me that he had met you, 'the woman on
the poster', and suggested we'd all go out together, I
had mixed feelings. On one hand I wanted to break out of
my isolation and meet a few people socially, and who
better to start with than the woman with the serene,
happy look? On the other hand, wasn't this whole idea of
wanting to meet someone because I had seen her picture a
little too school-girlish for a woman of my age?

"Then there was the suggestion to go to _Le Chambre
Séparée_. I had a vague idea of what to expect and I
would never have gone there with Claude alone. But as his
girlfriend would be coming along I felt safe from his
advances. It also occurred to me that casual sex without
commitments might be a first step in returning to a
normal sex life. After all, when I was a teenager I used
to 'sleep around' until I met Billy. In the end, I
accepted the invitation.

"That evening - it seems such a long time ago, but it was
only the day before yesterday - I felt very apprehensive.
I was worried that I wasn't yet ready for social contact,
that I might spoil everybody else's fun. In the
restaurant, I noticed that everybody was eager to make me
feel comfortable, but that made me even more tense. I
wasn't able to participate in the conversation. My mind
went blank and I couldn't think of anything meaningful to
say. I agreed to have some wine but the alcohol didn't
have any relaxing effect.

"Then, when we got to _Le Chambre Séparée_, things really
got bad. I don't need to tell you, you know what
happened. But you probably don't know the reason for my
strange behaviour. It was the mixture of 'uppers' and
Champagne which sent me on a horror trip."

I looked at her in amazement and disbelief.

"As soon as we arrived at _Le Chambre Séparée_, I went to
the bathroom and took an anti-depressant. You're not
supposed to mix them with alcohol, but on a few occasions
before, I had drunk some wine and when it didn't loosen
me up I had taken one of those pills without any negative
side effects. When I took it that evening, it wasn't my
intention to have any more alcohol, but then everybody
insisted that I had to join in a toast to our host. I
guess, I should have come clean and said that I was on
uppers and couldn't drink anything, but I didn't have the
guts. I felt I couldn't explain why it had been OK to
drink wine in the restaurant but not OK to have Champagne
now. In the end I agreed to join you in your toast and
had a little Champagne.

"As soon as it hit my stomach, I started to feel unwell.
I had nightmares; horrible visions passed in front of my
eyes. I don't remember everything I said or did, maybe I
don't really want to know. But I remember that one half
of me wanted to leave immediately and the other half
said, 'If you do that, nobody will ever invite you
again'. So I did hang on for as long as I could."

"You don't remember what you did or, more precisely, what
I made you do?"

"I think I know what you mean. The horror trip came and
went. In between I had some lucid moments and in those
moments I decided to get the most out of the situation
and became your slave."

"You mean you actually wanted to do this at the time?"

"Oh yes. It's a game Billy and I played sometimes. We
used to take turns in taking the role of the master and
the other one had to do what the master ordered. We never
hurt each other, we instinctively knew how far we could
go. Occasionally our games would involve other people,
usually complete strangers."

I was speechless. "You're saying you knew what you were
doing when I made you masturbate in public, suck Claude's
cock and eat Arlette's pussy?"

She nodded. "I enjoyed those moments very much. I wasn't
responsible for my actions. It wasn't me who was doing
it, it was that slave girl ... what did you call her? ...
Oh yes, Isaura. I was a little disappointed that I wasn't
allowed to go all the way with Claude, but I understood
that it was for a good cause. I hoped you might get
someone to fuck me."

I interrupted, "You were prepared to go that far?"

"Oh yes, I was in the mood for mindless, irresponsible
sex. Sex for sex's sake, without any commitments or
afterthoughts. But then I started to get a splitting
headache and there was no way I could enjoy myself any
longer. So I decided to leave. It all happened so
quickly, I didn't even have time to thank you for the
lovely present you gave me."

I told her that it had been a pleasure to see her wear my
present, that it made her look even more desirable.

"I've got a little something for you too," said Caroline
and handed me a small parcel. It was a silk dressing
gown, exactly like the one she was wearing, only in
black.

"A special dedication to the black and white couple," she
said, "Would you like to try it on?"

"Only if you promise not to look," I answered, and we
both laughed.

I undressed standing right in front of her and she
watched my every move. When I was completely naked I put
on the dressing gown. It felt wonderfully cool and smooth
on my skin.

Caroline got up and put her arm around my shoulders. Then
she walked me to her bedroom where one wall was covered
by a floor-to-ceiling mirror. In front of the mirror was
an old-fashioned double bed with brass rails at its head
and foot. We stood there and looked at our image.

"Aren't these two ravishing beauties?" she asked.

I couldn't help feeling aroused by the situation. She
embraced me and our mouths met in a deep kiss. She undid
the loop which was holding my gown together and slipped
the garment off my shoulders until it fell to the floor.
I did the same with her dressing gown. I realised that
this was the first time I saw her naked. I stepped back a
little to take it all in.

She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her
breasts were a perfect round shape, her nipples, slightly
erect, pointed straight at me. Her belly was small and
firm and her pubic hair had been reduced to a thin strip.
I assumed that she removed the hair because of the
miniscule size of some of her underwear. Her legs, as I
had noticed before, were just unbelievably long and sexy.

"My God, you're beautiful," I said, "no wonder the men
are falling over themselves trying to date you."

"But they don't get to see me like this - at least they
didn't so far," she answered and pulled me back into her
arms.

It was wonderful to feel her naked body against mine. I
didn't feel like going back to the students' residence
that night, I wished she would let me spend the night
with her.

After a while she turned me around so that I was facing
the mirror and positioned herself behind me. She placed
one hand on my breasts and the other one between my legs.

"This is how I do it when I'm on my own," she said.

"You won't be on your own tonight," I assured her.

Caroline got very animated by my response and asked me,
"Have you ever used vibrators?"

I told her that I considered vibrators substitutes for a
penis and, as I was very well looked after in that
respect, I had never felt a need to use them.

"Yes, but that's only part of the story. Vibrators are
extremely useful and versatile in stimulation. They can
do things men can't do and can make you experience a
completely different range of sensations. We used to have
sessions when Billy gave me a wonderful time, just with a
few vibrators. After all, men have their physical
limitations," she said, smiling.

"Come here, I'll give you a treat you won't forget so
soon."

She positioned me at some distance from the foot of the
bed and told me to spread my legs. Then she made me bend
forward and support myself on the brass rail at the foot
of the bed. My upper body was almost at a right angle to
my legs and my breasts swung freely from my chest.

"Stay like this while I get my toys," she said and got a
number of objects from the drawer of her dressing table.
It seemed she didn't only collect sexy lingerie, she also
had a collection of sex toys. Standing at my side she
reached between my legs from behind and touched my pussy
with her hand.

"It seems that you are rearing to go," she said and
switched on one vibrator which she held very lightly
against my pussy lips.

The first touch of this phallic object which emitted a
humming noise seemed strange, but I soon started to enjoy
the vibrating sensation against my sensitive flesh. As
Caroline moved the vibrator up and down my pussy lips I
wanted more, faster, harder stimulation; I wanted to feel
this throbbing stick inside my pussy.

My reaction must have shown because Caroline said, "I
knew you'd like it. There's no need to rush things. Let's
play it nice and slow."

But I wasn't into 'nice and slow' that evening. As soon
as the vibrator touched my clitoris I came. The orgasm
ripped through my whole body as I flooded the vibrator
with my juices and I had to hold on tight to the brass
rail to maintain my position.

Caroline just said, "God, you're hot!"

Then she selected another toy. It looked like a short,
slightly crooked penis.

"This one stimulates the G-spot," she announced.

I had read and heard about the G-spot as the seat of the
female orgasm, but had never paid much attention to my
own G-spot. Charlotte didn't approve of any form of
penetration and gave me enormous pleasure and uncountable
orgasms by just stimulating my clitoris, and Ramon always
stretched me to the limit so that every millimetre of my
pussy was stimulated intensely and I never wondered
whether he was stimulating my G-spot in the process. So I
had regarded all this talk about the G-spot as something
for women who had problems reaching an orgasm in the
'normal' way.

Caroline switched on the innocent looking toy and pushed
it slowly into my pussy. When she reached the intended
position I realised that there was something magic about
this G-spot after all. I could feel that I was quickly
approaching another climax. I found it difficult to
remain steady on my legs but I was determined to enjoy
this as long as possible.

Caroline increased the speed and my orgasms started to
flow in a continuous stream. She somehow managed to
secure the vibrator in my pussy with a strap which ran
between my buttocks and around my hips and was fastened
in the front. Then, while I was penetrated by one tool
she used another one to stimulate my clitoris. It felt
like heaven but I wondered how long my legs would be able
to support me. Finally she switched on another vibrator
and held it against one of my nipples.

That was more than I could take. My pussy exploded in
another earth-shattering orgasm, my legs caved in and I
fell on my knees with a tremendous moan, the vibrator
still pulsating in my pussy. Caroline quickly helped me
get up from the floor and pulled me onto the bed. Only
then did she unfasten the strap which held the vibrator
in place and switch it off.

We lay on the bed in a tight embrace until I caught my
breath. Then I asked her why she had made me stand in
such an awkward position which had made it difficult for
me to stay on my feet.

She answered that she and Billy had experimented with
many different positions and found this one the best
because it made the victim completely accessible from all
angles, something that could not be achieved by sitting
or lying on the bed.

"In the beginning I found it a little uncomfortable too,
but the lust was stronger. I learned to maintain the
position during long periods of stimulation," she
explained. "In the end my legs were always like rubber
and I was dripping wet. Billy had to carry me to the bed
where he'd lick the juices from my pussy or just plunge
his cock into my wetness."

"But enough nostalgia, my pussy is dying for some
attention. Shall I get into position?"

This made me realize that I had completely forgotten
about returning the pleasure I had received to my
partner. I explained that I wasn't sure I could match her
skills with the vibrators - I had never used one before -
and preferred to use my traditional technique which I
knew for sure would drive her crazy.

With that I started to caress her entire body with my
hands, lips and tongue. Caroline was very responsive to
my touch. The fact that she hadn't had sex with anyone
except herself for such a long time had turned her into a
hot wire. Every little kiss on her sensitive skin made
her writhe in pleasure. I spent a long time caressing her
wonderful breasts, kissing and licking her nipples. She
rewarded my efforts with exclamations of how much she
enjoyed this, how she had missed it and that she didn't
want to go without this ever again.

As my hands and mouth made their way across her belly
towards her sex her excitement became uncontrollable. She
twisted and turned on the bed, moaning in pleasure and
desire. But I didn't want to touch her pussy, not yet. I
wanted to do what had come to my mind the first time I
saw her terrific legs. I wanted to trail my tongue along
those legs, with tantalisingly slow movements, first
along one, then the other, until I reached the point
where the two meet. But her ecstatic movements made this
impossible.

I told Caroline to keep her legs still so I could treat
them to the exhilaration they deserved.

"Do you want to tie them to the bedpost? That would keep
them still," she asked.

That woman was certainly full of surprises. She told me
where I could find some scarves which she had bought for
exactly this purpose and I tied her legs to the opposite
ends of the brass rail. This being a double bed, her legs
were now spread very wide, her pussy invitingly exposed
to my every desire. I did as I had planned, knowing that
the slow progress of my mouth towards her sex would drive
her crazy.

She urged me on, wanted me to forget about subtleties and
come straight to the point where she needed me most. But
I was unperturbed by her commands and continued to
proceed at my own chosen pace. When I reached her pussy,
her hips were up in the air, arching towards my mouth and
the relief she longed for. She gasped and erupted in an
almighty orgasm when I kissed her wide open sex and
circled my tongue around her clitoris.

I continued to pleasure her pussy with my mouth right
through her orgasm and into the next and into the one
after that. I only stopped when her moans had turned into
one continuous wail. Then I untied her and took her into
my arms, holding her in a tender embrace.

My mind wandered back to that evening at _Le Chambre
Séparée_ and the things Caroline had said then. I asked,
"Caroline, what happened in the cathedral?"

"What cathedral?" she replied, puzzled by my strange
question.

"When you were in a trance-like state you said something
about the floor of the cathedral being hard and cold and
then you added that someone's weight was pressing you
against the stones."

"That must have been one of my nightmares. I don't
remember anything about this."

I was a little disappointed by this answer. I had
expected some story of seduction and forced sex involving
a man of the cloth. I asked Caroline if she had ever been
in trouble at school about exposing herself or her
underwear to a teacher. Again she didn't know what I was
talking about.

I told her the fantasies those fragments of her
hallucinations had triggered in my mind and we both
laughed about my fertile imagination. I also told her how
I had been furious with myself for abusing my power over
her and manipulating her into doing things she probably
didn't want to do, how I had paid a beggar for eating my
pussy and how I had purged myself of my frustration by
screaming my orgasm into the silence of the night.

Caroline looked at me in wonder. "You didn't!" she said,
more as a question than a statement, and when I simply
nodded she declared, "You're a naughty girl, Jacqueline.
You deserve a good spanking."

This statement startled me - was she into spanking as
well? - but it also reminded me of my unpaid debt. I
resisted the temptation to tell Caroline about my deal
with Michel. I decided that some things better remain
secrets, even between friends.

"Next time one of those fellows asks me for a date, I'll
accept, no matter who it is," Caroline said.

It sounded more like she was talking to herself than to
me.

"And if he plays his cards right, I'll spend the night
with him. I've denied myself the pleasure of feeling a
cock inside my pussy for too long. I'm not looking for a
lasting relationship, just plain, uncomplicated sex.
That's what most of those men are after anyway. And when
I'm through with the men in that department I'll quit my
job and start somewhere else. There are plenty more fish
in the sea."

Caroline told me that the events at _Le Chambre Séparée_
had made her realise how much she really wanted to pick
up the threads of her interrupted sex life and that I had
played no small part in helping her to muster the courage
for this decision.

We spent the night together, sleeping peacefully in each
other's arms. It was the beginning of a very close
friendship. From then on I visited Caroline about once a
week, always trying to arrange the visits so that I
didn't have any lectures the next morning and could enjoy
her company without having to worry about getting up
early the next morning. It was an almost innocent
relationship between two women who had a fulfilled sex
life with male partners but found it just as enjoyable to
spend a night with another woman.

Caroline helped me to improve my vibrator technique and
together we tried out every single toy in her ever-
growing collection.

                    To be continued