It was one of those propitious events that one cannot predict but simply sits back and enjoys.
I'd come to my favorite diner in NJ, one where the Sopranos series had frequently filmed, and sat in my usual booth facing the door. I ordered my favorite meal of brisket of beef, French fried potatoes, and steamed broccoli, and I was enjoying my opener of lentil soup when two women walked in and settled into the booth diagonally across from me.
The older woman of the pair was pleasantly enough attired and appeared to have a serene attitude. Her much younger companion was as restless as a puppy needing a walk. She sat across from her companion but did not settle, constantly fidgeting and looking very uncomfortable. The girl, about twenty, was wearing heels and a button-down-the-front dress of silvery satin, and she appeared to be wearing nothing underneath the dress. Her C cup breasts pressed out of the fabric and erect pencil eraser nipples were evident.
I noticed the older woman coaching the girl. Using only hand signals, the girl was instructed first to spread her legs wider, then to cross her legs in such a way as to allow the dress, unbuttoned for two buttons from its hemline, to expose the young woman's crotch. The only thing separating her vagina from worldwide exposure was a thin lacy thong panty, which the girl now flashed uncomfortably.
Following another hand signal, the young woman sat campfire style on the seat of their booth, feet and knees wide apart. She attempted to eat her soup and sandwich lin this position but was soon fidgeting again and her panty had developed an obvious wet spot.
Finally I could not resist. I stood and walked the short distance over to the older woman. Bending down I inquired in a low whisper if her young companion was an exhibitionist, a submissive, or a slave in training. The older woman smiled and with a finger motioned her companion to unbutton the top button of the silvery satin dress. In doing so the girl exposed a silver choker that was standing in for a true slave's collar. The older woman explained her companion was in training and had not yet committed to full slave status; but, indeed was submissive.
I whispered a suggestion to the dominant woman, who smiled and readily agreed. The girl was instructed, again in sign only, to unbutton two more buttons, which brought the opening at the neck of her dress just below the bottom curve of her ample bosom. I was told the reason the girl was fidgeting was she had small ball vibrators, which the older woman remotely controlled, inserted in both her vagina and anus. This also explained the growing damp spot on the girl's thong front.
Now, much to the embarrassment of the girl, she was instructed to remove the thong and hand it to me. By squirming on her seat she managed to remove the garment, which I sniffed and then placed into my sport coat pocket.
The older woman then reminded the girl what would happen if her dampness stained the satin dress she was wearing. Silent still, the girl simply nodded yes, and the older woman stepped up the vibrators to another level. Warned not to cum, the girl rose from the table to go and pay the bill for the meal the two women had just ate
The older womanI thanked me for being such a good audience by offering me one of her business cards and giving me an open invitation to drop by anytime. When she saw the dark damp spot on the rear of the girl's silvery satin dress, the older woman whispered, "If you stop by in an hour you can help me teach this wild thing what it means when I tell her not to soil her clothing."
The next hour found me walking the seven city blocks to the address printed on the business card the older woman had presented to me.
Timing my arrival so as to be within the minute of the appointed hour, I gently knocked on a door, in spite of the posted 'Closed' sign. The older woman opened the door to allow my entry. She then closed and locked the door and drew down the shades, which blocked all view of the interior from the street.
The shop was a thing of beauty and I expressed that observation to her. She in turn thanked me and went on to explain that everything I saw was designed from her mind to the finished product and that many women of wealth and status considered themselves honored to be made one of her 'by appointment only' clientele.
The woman was a talented jewelry, dress and gown designer. On two turntables in this outer shop were manikins dressed in upscale fashionable business attire and on a fixed raised dais stood representative evening gowns, and wedding dresses suitable for Modern Bride magazine.
The show case displays were of fine gold and silver jewelry. No two alike, as she prided herself as being able to give her clientele one of a kind fashion that the woman of taste could get nowhere else but in this shop.
I knew I was not there under invitation to shop, however, two sets of women's cuff links and a bracelet caught my eye and I asked if they might be held aside for purchase when the owner was in the mood to conduct business.
As the shop was named 'Design By Camille', I politely asked if she was the Camille. She laughed, a mature and hearty laugh, and then said she had been so angry with her niece that she had neglected to introduce herself, and that indeed she was indeed the self same Camille.
When I informed her that I was Mark Chessman, she gasped and said she had read the stories I had authored for a certain web site and found them intriguing.
I then inquired as to the younger of the pair I had seen in the diner. Camille said we would soon join her, as she was involved with the staff and tied up in the workroom behind the showroom portion of the building. Camille also indicated the 'child' was her niece, Linda, whom she had raised from age eight following the loss of Linda's parents in a fiery automobile crash. Linda was now nineteen, soon to be twenty, and had gone from a brightly focused National Honor Society high school over-achiever to a girl completely without focus, wasting her time and her aunt's hard-earned money for three semesters of college at the Philadelphia Institute of Fashion and Design.
Linda, Camille's heir apparent in the business, had been put on both academic and social probation by her school and was now serving a one semester suspension for running what amounted to a tavern out of her dorm room. On her return home from the college Linda had been placed under discipline by Camille. No boyfriends or girlfriends allowed, no drinking nor drugging, and for the next five months until the suspension was lifted, she had to work in her aunt's shop and sewing floor as an apprenticed intern.
Camille had fashioned the silver choker necklace/collar for her niece to resemble the choke collars used to train dogs. A fine leather strap could be added by clipping it to the toggle ring of the collar. It was by means of this device that Camille maintained minute-by-minute control of her niece and insured that Linda was doing the tasks appointed in a manner that did not disappoint Camille or her customers.
Still, even with all of the layers of control in place, Linda had managed to attempt a display of temper by cutting an important client's fabric incorrectly, costing her aunt several hundred dollars of fine silk, and by leaving a hot iron on the beaded bodice of a wedding gown due to be worn in three days. Her final rebellious act had been to use a bolt of velveteen as a masturbation mount, leaving her fluids embedded so deeply into the edge of the bolt that the wet stain penetrated through seven or more yards of material. Her aunt had caught Linda in the act and when Camille screamed at her, Linda stuck out her tongue and continued to ride the bolt to climax.
That was enough for Camille. She had two of her shop girls, who both worked the store and the back room as seamstresses, hold Linda down while Camille rammed vibrators into Linda's vaginal and anal passages. The anal plug was removed twice a day so that Linda could move her bowels and bathe. The egg-like vaginal device had not been removed since it had been inserted. Camille kept the remote control for the two devices with her at all times and used the pitch intensity of the pair to control her niece's attention span toward work, household chores and social interaction. The vibrating eggs could apparently give both pain and pleasure depending on the whim of the operator.
Camille had also instructed her niece that as it appeared she did not understand instructions given in plain English, all future communications between the aunt and niece would be non-verbal commands. By the evening I had bumped into the pair in the diner Linda had learned every nuance of the hand signals her aunt used to communicate. Yet, she had still not learned self-control. The soiling of the satin dress with her fluids proved that.
It was at this point that Camille offered me entry into the rear workroom area of her business. The shop had its beginnings as a dry cleaner. Certain aspects of that business had been left intact when Camille had taken the property over. One of those features was the overhead track that with a push of a button delivered clean garments to the area of the store where the paying customer could pick them up. Attached to that overhead device was one now-nude coed. Her wrists were fastened with leather cuffs and the handcuff chain was hooked onto the travel machinery. In its present location Linda's bare toes were just grazing the floor.
.... There is more of this story ...