[K]&[T], LLC
Chapter 1: Changes

Caution: This Drama Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/ft, Consensual, Romantic, Lesbian, BiSexual, Heterosexual, BDSM, DomSub, MaleDom, FemaleDom, Spanking, Rough, Light Bond, Humiliation, Petting, Food, Exhibitionism,

Desc: Drama Sex Story: Chapter 1: Changes - Sheila and Sean have become engaged and spent a night practicing for the honeymoon. This story begins in the morning light. Bondage and D/s play is an important elements. Be warned. The couple has come together. Now they need to make things work. This is about meeting, planning and doing, with some food and fun mixed in.

Interlude: 25th Anniversary


"Everyone knows about the wedding. Some of it is Justin's famous photography. The shot of the houseboat against the moonlight won major awards. Odd that he gives Mom a lot of the credit. His candid shots of the bridesmaids are hysterical. Justin somehow managed a shot of my Aunt Jo hanging Aunt Fran out of the window. That room is on the second floor and the whole level was ladies only. Aunt Jo would call it the mare moiety. They did get the makeup fixed in time for the ceremony.

"Mom looked incredible. She made the cover of a bridal magazine, which embarrasses her no end. The whole, now famous, Victorian motif was hers though Dad claims the equally famous dress. Somehow, they managed to set it up in one week, yet made it the event of the season. The week must have been frantic, though no one ever talks about it.


I was learning to love waking up after an evening with Sean. I was invariably sore, well rested and contented. That did not mean that something significant had not happened. Getting engaged rated as significant in my book. Looking over at Sean, I decided that my Teddy Bear would rank as significant just about every morning.

Things were going to be different, and soon. Once I started the thought, the train ran away with me. I had an apartment to consider, complete with a newly acquired submissive. I had a business to run, and G_d only knew what changes would take place there. Sean might want a honeymoon, which meant that I needed a fill in, and CC was not ready yet. The catalog had been put to bed, but there were wrap up details that still needed tidying. There were some unsettling rumors concerning my building, which deserved a long look. At least, the wedding planning should be easy. How complicated could a small backyard wedding get, especially on our schedule?

First things first. I slipped out of bed and grabbed my phone on the way to the bathroom. As expected, Francine had sent me a dozen messages, getting progressively more profane. Knowing her habits, there was no way she was up. It would serve her right.

Phone: If this is Schwartzkopf, you are a shit, the lowest form of life and I am insanely jealous. I hope you had a good fuck. Meet me at the old diner at 9:00. Everyone else, screw yourself. I'm busy.

OK. Score that one for Francine. It was already 8:15 AM, so I needed to hurry. Running back into the bedroom, still naked, I looked for the inevitable intercom. It was on the wall, next to the door. I pressed a button and said, "Who is driving today?" I took a moment, then a familiar voice responded.

Phone: This is Gerald. What can I do for you, Miss Schwartz?

"Gerald, this ought to be below your pay grade."

Phone: You have a point ma'am, but this is an unusual situation.

Wow. I felt like Rene Russo, in The Thomas Crown Affair, when Pierce Brosnan said he never brought anyone to his cabin. Unless I missed my guess, Gerald was Sean's head of security. That meant a lot of things, which I would have to sort out later. For the moment, I needed to get a ride.

"Well, I think I can make it a bit more unusual. But first, would you have someone get a car ready. I need to meet someone in town, at 9:00, and I have no clothes to change into. Unless Sean keeps a closet full of woman's clothes, for his guests ... did I hear you snort?"

Phone: Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am. I will have a car ready in ten minutes. Is there anything else?

"Gerald, do you remember when I said I was glad you were the center of information flow?"

Phone: Uh, ma'am, that sounds very ominous.

"Gerald, you barely know me, yet you know me well. Here is the short version, which you may unpack at leisure. Sean and I became engaged last night. The wedding is a week from today, here on the grounds, with a reception to follow. I would love to chat, but I have a meeting, and you have calls to make. Fortunately, most people are up by now. Now, aren't you glad you got this message in person, so to speak?"


Waking is not usually difficult. There is a radio across the room, which plays annoying financial information til I shut it up. When Sheila came home with me, I had managed to switch the alarm off, so I had had more than two extra hours of sleep. Somehow the clock read 9:12 and I was still half asleep.

I stumbled to the house com. Pressing the button I said, "Who is on this weekend." Then there was a noticeable delay. Gerald would be chewing someone out over that.

Phone: Good morning. This is Gerald. What can I do for you? Gerald?

"Gerald, what the hell are you doing, at the com, on a Saturday morning? This is way below your pay grade." My God, Gerald laughed.

Phone: Sorry, Sir. It is just that Miss Schwartz used those exact words an hour ago. It has been a busy hour. Oh, my hairy balls.

"I take it Sheila informed you of her new status."

Phone: Yes, Sir, in passing. The big news was the where and when of the nuptials." Oh shit. "If I may say, Sir, Miss Schwartz has an uncanny ability to do a thirty-minute brief, in fifteen seconds. Are you sure that this is where you want to go, Sir?

God, I loved this woman. "Gerald, if that was the entire briefing, she left out the part about wanting a room remodeled. Hopefully, we will need it in nine months. How is that for compact information?"

Phone: I stand corrected, Sir.

"I assume you assigned Miss Schwartz a car and driver. Did she take it?"

Phone: Yes, Sir, and no, Sir. She asked for a ride to her apartment. She was observed to make a quick change and drive off in her personal vehicle. She was not accompanied by Miss Collingsworth. She indicated an 0900 meeting.

"I cannot say I am surprised by any of that. Send her a text message, requesting a conference. She is to have family grade access, both here at the house and in the garage, starting immediately. Her shadow, Miss Collingsworth, will have overnight guest status, until further notice. We will need to work her apartment into the rotation, as soon as possible, and get her car vetted. Sell that to her as an oil change and tune up. See what she will sit still for and shoot me a note ASAP. Give me a full write up on everything tonight.

"Enjoy your weekend."

Security people will run your life if you let them. I was glad to learn Sheila had her whip in hand when she dealt with them. Of course, finding Sheila with a whip in her hand is rarely surprising. Security would be putting in some serious overtime this week, and that was if things stayed small. As Han Solo would say, I had a bad feeling.

After talking with Gerald, I attacked the email stack. Word of my engagement had not hit, yet, but rumor of the catalog was running amok. Harold Johnstead sent personal assurances that everything would be available for the Monday mail. I wondered how many extra copies he would be keeping. Just to tweak his beak, I replied with a request for 200 wedding invitations, priority job.

There was nothing from Helen in the stack, but that only meant that she was doing something at church. At least, I was not Catholic. Confessing fornication was not something I wanted to try. My best guess was that Sheila was a non-practicing Jew, but I would need to ask. Pastor Myers would perform the ceremony, regardless, but I needed to find out. I had visions of stomping a glass in a yarmulke. Not going there. Thank God I owned a catering company.

Helen could handle the invitations. It would be strictly local and family, but I had a feeling that would not hold the crowd down much. Sheila might want a small affair, but I had doubts. In the meantime, I needed to talk to Justin. Rumors would be bad enough, just from what I gave Harold. Having a local photographer would be even worse.

One interesting item was a note from Julian, the corset maker. He said the Bridal Corset would be ready for a fitting on Tuesday. He noted that he was aware of the dress requirements, and guaranteed a proper fit. The dress was scheduled for Friday, which was cutting things close. I thanked him. I also told him to expect at least one other person for a fitting. Sheila had mentioned CC was a size 8. My eyeball analysis said 32 C. Hopefully that was enough to get Julian started. I did not bother mentioning Francine Martel since she would likely wear a corset on the outside.

After that. I went to scrounge some breakfast. I could contemplate what Sheila's reverse cowgirl was telling me. It was a nice counterpoint to fried egg on toast. Heaven help me when people started to get home from wherever they went on Saturday mornings.


I pulled up at the 7th Street Diner at 9:07 AM. That made me seven minutes late, by most standards, or 23 minutes early, by Francine time. However, I was not surprised to be met at the door with, "You're late. Where the fuck have you been, and how much fucking was involved?" Francine can be subtle. Really, she can. This was not going to be one of those times.

I came inside to find Francine next to the wreckage of a three egg omelet, half a dozen donuts, three cups of coffee and, at least, five cigarette butts. By law, all restaurants are non-smoking but that has never applied to divas like Francine Martel. Fortunately, there was a cold cup of black coffee on the other side of the table. I drained it and waived it in the air until someone picked up a pot. Only then did I look at my recently refound friend. Everything I was prepared to say died at the sight.

Francine was not only an hour early to a meeting—which should have been impossible—she was absolutely riveted on my face. My guess was that she had been up since 5:00 AM at the latest, which would be three hours ahead of schedule, on a workday. My engagement was the only thing out of the ordinary, so this was all for my benefit. I would have been flattered if I were not so appalled. Instead, I came around the table and gave her a Sean-like hug. Funny how I associated hugs and Sean so quickly.

Much of the tension ran out of Francine, but she was still a gossip queen in full bore. I had to tell her every detail of the proposal. Every few seconds I would get a, "No" or a, "You're shitting me." I did not not slow down til I heard, "Holy shit, you left before dinner was served?" I guess we had, hence eating at Wendy's. Holy shit, indeed.

About that time, the waitress came around wanting my order. Francine ordered a trucker breakfast while I asked for boiled egg and oatmeal. And more coffee. Suddenly I felt like I was going on four hours of sleep, even though it had been closer to six. Francine gave a knowing look and said nothing. I believe I have mentioned how nervous a quiet Francine makes me.

So, I told her about my time in Sean's shower and bed. I went through it all in loving detail. When I finally reached the part where I heard her message, still less than an hour earlier, Francine gave me a sour look. Other than that, not a thing.

Finally, she spoke. "Split the bamboo." Say what? I must have looked confused. "It's from the Kama Sutra. Look it up. Good God Schwartz, how can you be so innocent? You have been whipping naked men for a decade, and you do not even know basic sex techniques. You are describing A zone stimulation–look that up too–which you get when Ricky bumps your cervix. I would lay money you own a vibrator that is, at least, a foot long." I think I blushed at that.

"While you are at it, look up the ballerina position. Sean will love it and you can do it anywhere. It's absolutely perfect for airline sex. I can not do it. I'm too fucking short. Never mind looking it up, I will send you a copy. I have a dozen.

"So, you are getting married. When?"

I had dreaded this question. There was no way I could pull off a nonchalant with Francine. Instead, I went very still, looked Francine straight in the eyes and spit it out. "Next Saturday, at Sean's house. Will you be one of my ladies?" Up til now, I only thought Francine was unnaturally quiet. She might have turned to stone, except that her mouth fell open and she dropped a donut she had been dunking.

It only lasted a moment. "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you. Blessed are you among women ... Fucking A, Schwartz, you know how to drop big fucking bombs. Are there any small surprises?" Oh, my G_d. I had not even thought of that.

"No, Francine, I am not pregnant. Hopefully, that will change next weekend."

"OK. That covers the next three questions. What about the dress?"

"Sean ordered me one."

"That's right, you said. Here's the deal. I may not be able to get off next Saturday. If I do, it will be because of who you are, not who I am. I have to be honest; I am no longer the headliner I was five years ago. On the other hand, Mistress Cynthia is both famous and infamous. Do you want me to try? Better yet, do you want me to drop the show? Elizabethtown is the last stop, and my understudy, whatever her name is, can use some stage time."

That was a bag of questions. Dropping a show was a big deal. However, dropping one town in a run, to an understudy, was much more acceptable. An important wedding was reasonable grounds. The second level was that Francine was offering to help with the wedding, and possibly more. My clients were going to need someone if I took a week for a honeymoon. I am not sure I trusted Francine long term, but she would get off on the costumes and theatrics for a while. There was also the subtext that Francine could use my name profitably, which struck me as upside down.

At that point, our food arrived. I ate my oatmeal and egg while Francine inhaled another couple thousand calories. By the time I was sipping my coffee, wishing it were tea, I had half a plan.

"Francine, I will not say yes, or no, now. Go to practice and float a balloon. We will talk tonight. Either way, I may need some of your contacts. Doing things on the fly, like we will have to, a costuming company might be the source for the maid's dresses. In fact, a set company might be good for our reception. Give me a call, whenever, and we will talk." I stood and put $10 on the table.

"For now, I need to go take CC shopping. I gave her to Jason last night, so I need to see if she is still my submissive." I heard a fork clatter and caught a glimpse of Francine's open mouth. It was probably the first time in ten years that Francine had let someone else get the last word, much less paid for a meal. It was turning into a good morning.

Rather than go directly to the hotel, I went back to my apartment and made up a crash bag: toilet kit, change of clothes, flogger, restraints, etc. I was not sure who I would pick up. If she was CC, that required one response. Tess would require a different one. My best guess was a close call. I just hoped her night had been as memorable as mine.

I drove the car around to Jason's room and honked the horn. After a short pause, the door opened and both Jason and CC came out. One glance at their faces told me that I needed a fourth option. Something significant had gone on, and it was not just sex. Jason had a notepad in his hand, so I rolled the window down and he handed it to me. I asked what was going on, but Jason said it was too complex for a parking lot. Seeing CC, I believed him, so I let it lie.

As we drove us off, I examined CC. There was a lot to take in. She was freshly washed, but she was wearing the same clothes she had worn the day before. She had a well-fucked aura, but not a satisfied one. Far from it. At that point, I realized I was going to deal with this as a CC issue. We needed to talk, but, with CC, that was a problem. I was at a loss when I saw a sign ahead.

It read "Best Buy."


After talking to Gerald, I pulled on a pair of shorts and pumped iron for half an hour. Then I climbed on the bike and set the gauge for 10/20. This meant I was going to ride for 10 simulated miles, and the computer would ding me when I dropped below 20 miles per hour. After I worked up to speed, I started making notes on the recorder I keep mounted on the bars.

Job list:

Open the main ballroom and clean thoroughly, top priority.

Notify kitchen staff that a major event was coming.

Have Henri coordinate food prep with Richard in Catering.

Hire dance music for the ball room and a DJ for outside.

Get outdoor sound, tables, and chairs from Events.

Get with Sheila on decorations.

Contact family, get RSVP. Check with Sheila about having Jo in her party.

Get the grounds crew started. The gazebo will do for the altar, but seating must be laid out.

Priority calls:

Mother and Father

Jo and George


Best Man

House and Grounds

Once I finished my ride, I did a quick shower and started on the calls. Easiest first, which mean my baby sister, who was now a grad student at Dartmouth. Fortunately, spring term was over so she probably only had research to do.

Phone: Hello.

"Good Morning Jo Jo. This is your big brother calling."

Phone: Don't call me that. It's almost as bad as my real name. Is someone in the hospital?

"Close. I am getting married. Can you make it down this week?"

Phone: Clarence, it is not nice to even joke about things like that. Now, what is really going on?

"I am cold serious. The wedding is set for next Saturday, here at the house. Can you make it, and do you want to be in the bridal party?"

Phone: Oh my God, you are serious. Of course, I will be down. When did this happen? How did Mother react? Have you told Father? Why so soon?

"Slow down. Let me get that in order. Yes, I am completely serious. I proposed last night and we decided to make it as soon as possible, then cut off a week. You are the first I am telling, so neither Mother or Father have had a comment. Tracking Father down may not be easy. Frankly, I expect Mother to send regrets and a white elephant. I hope to have George in my party, but he may have more trouble getting away, assuming he remembers. Before you ask, no, she is not pregnant but she wants to be.

"About my fiancée, she is a local business woman but very low key. She owns some important real estate and has just finished a major publishing project. You should absolutely get together and compare notes. To give one example, she owns, and uses, a collection of authentic, 19th century, hand lacquered, oriental hair pins. If you are going to be in her party, I should warn you that the wedding dress is a Victorian design, including a corset. Her name is Sheila Schwartz."

Phone: No! A corset? Really? Wait a minute, that name is familiar. Why?

"Think dance."

Phone: Right. She was at Gruber's studio the year Mother forced me to attend. She and that short little bitch, what was her name, were the stars. I remember she was going to do a part in The Nutcracker at Lincoln Center. Then, she just disappeared.

"I think she did play at Lincoln Center. I would have to check. However, she overdeveloped, and Herr Gruber, rather unceremoniously, dumped her. That was ten or eleven years ago, but it left scars."

Phone: Oh my God. You really are serious. And you are right. I want to meet her, again. That seems so strange. I think I am going to like having her as a sister in law. There is no way I know her, but I can relate to so much of what you just told me. I never had a sister and now I will. Weird.

"There is more. That "short little bitch" is someone I went to high school with, and even dated once: Francine Martel. She will probably be there, too.

Phone: Oh my God, you're right. Francine Martel. The Broadway Francine Martel. And she is attending, too. Well, she would. She and Schwartz were tight. Gruber even paired them, when we were short on boys.

"If you say 'Oh my God' one more time, I will tell Mother, and she will send you to your room, without internet."

Phone: Fuck you, Clarence. Getting Mother to notice anything but her drink is impossible. Well, maybe her current boy toy. I have research I need to wrap here, but I will be down Monday if I can. This sounds like fun.

"Thanks, Jo Jo I knew I could count on you. I will make sure they spell your name right on the invitation. It's J O V A N N, right?"

Phone: [laughing] I wish. I could almost live with that one. Getting interviewers to pronounce the Celtic spelling is a nightmare. I should move to Ireland.

"Later. I have more calls to make."

My sister was easily my favorite relative. Smart too. Yale does not hand out Anthropology PhDs like candy. Siobhan had that and was doing post-doctorate work and teaching at Dartmouth. Between classes, she did research for a second PhD, in Sociology. Calling George would be less pleasant if I could find him.

Fortunately, I was dumped to George's voicemail. "George, this is your brother, Sean. I have gotten engaged and we decided for a quick wedding. The ceremony will be next Saturday, here, at the house. If you can make it, I will save you a place as groomsman. Call me."

Mother was sleeping, so I left an almost identical recording. She and my Father had not-divorced when I was six. The money, and the house, had come down through her side and there was a prenup. My Father was turned out with a mere couple of $Million. I had not seen or heard from him in well over a decade. I think the occasion was George's graduation. He did not come for Siobhan's. I was going to leave a message on Helen's voicemail, but she picked up.

"Good Morning, Helen. In case you missed the earlier message, I have gotten engaged to Miss Schwartz. This particular call was to have you track down my father if you can. I will check my email as soon as I am done making calls, but that may take a while." Talking to Helen, live, does not differ much from talking to her voicemail. My next call was to my lawyer, Curtis.

"Hello, Curtis. I got engaged and she wants a prenup. How soon can you get one together?"

Phone: Fuck you, Sean. I would say that you have a lot of nerve calling on a Saturday, but what would be the use? Congratulations. Your security guy, Gerald I think, called two hours ago. Who is she?

"She's local. Born and raised here. Her name is Sheila Schwartz. She is a quietly successful business owner.

Phone: Schwartz. That is not ringing any bells.

"You may remember her from Judge Johnson's bequest. Or, try the name, Mistress Cynthia."

Phone: That would mean ... But, she ... Holy shit. Tell me you are not serious. At least, tell me you are serious about a prenuptial agreement.

"Ease up, Curtis. You could blow a gasket. Yes, I am serious about the engagement. Yes, she said she wanted a prenup. Note, it is on her request. I am not going to insist. However, I have something more important to ask. Will you be my Best Man? George and I are not close, and it is still up in the air if he can even make the trip."

Phone: Sean, if you had not paid for my house in the Catskills, I would dump you as a client. Yes, I will stand up for you. God knows someone needs to keep you in line. Yes, I will get started on a prenup. Thank you so much for ruining my weekend. Once you figured out that catalog thing, I was hoping for some quiet, at least for an hour or two.

"Good luck, Curtis."

After that, I was usually the second, or third, call. This was not a bad thing. My call served to confirm some earlier call. Gerald had gotten the ball rolling, but this was a really juicy piece of gossip. I dreaded when they started calling me. Before that could happen, I needed some face to face time with Gerald. It was lunch time, so we agreed to meet in the kitchen.

Gerald's background may be in military intelligence, among other things, but he could make a living as a sandwich cook. We roughed out a strategy over a couple of Dagwood sandwiches Gerald had constructed. It gave me an idea. I did not know how Sheila would want to do the reception but a sandwich-to-order booth could be worked in. Catering could provide Gerald with appropriate attire and a backup sandwich chef. He could have eyes on, rather than remote if that was what he wanted. It also appealed to his vanity. It never hurts to stroke your people.

After Gerald, I met with the Gilbert brothers, heads of the House and Grounds. I made my desire for full cooperation clear. I also promised a wave of temporary help. That part would be easy since I had already made arrangements for the auction a week later. Not everyone would do both, but there was a core that wanted all the hours I could drum up. Fuck the budget. You only get married once.

Then, it was the email stack of 1001 questions I could not answer or should not need to. I missed Sheila already.


I parked the car, then had to walk around and rap on CC's window. I crooked one finger at her, then turned away. She may not be my submissive that morning, but she was still an employee. Inside, I went straight to the PC area. I had just attracted a salesman, salesboy really, named John. CC came quietly up, eyes down, hands wringing in front.

"John, this is CC. CC, stand up straight. This is John. He is going to get you a small laptop for your personal use. John, what do you have?" CC did not exactly give me a dirty look, not quite, but she stood straight and looked at John. John was suddenly as tongue-tied as CC, which earned them a hint of a smile.

After a moment, John shook the stunned look off and led us to the display. I let him drone for a while, then picked a mid-priced model and told him to ring it up. Finally, CC gave me an inquisitive look, and I mimed talking. CC looked blank for a moment, then smiled. That's my girl.

By this time, John was practically falling over himself to be helpful, but CC was clueless. She had no idea how much sex appeal she was broadcasting, so she was not watching for reactions. That was fine. I had John load a good security program and create a Hotmail account as TrulyCC. My choice of screen name managed to pull a small smile from CC. Since she was usually puppy-dog happy, something was definitely up.

After that, I went looking for a free WiFi spot. That turned out to be a TCBY imitator. I bought CC a cone and coffee for myself. Then, we sat down and messaged.

Sheila: What is going on that has you so worried?

CC: I don't know what you mean.

S: Do not play with me, Christine. I know you and I know Jason. Something serious is going on. What is it?

CC: Jason found out about my bump. He kind of freaked out.

S: Where is this bump, and what does it do.

CC: It's just above my pussy. If you drum on it, it feels good, but you have to drum pretty hard.

My stars, that was a load. Knowing CC, "drum hard" meant leave bruises and "feels good" meant screaming orgasm. Shit. Jason knew, was willing to tell me and was trying to protect CC. My estimation of surfer boy went up a notch, or three.

S: Jason is a good friend. I hope you two keep in contact. I doubt you will often find anyone with as much in common.

S: Tell me about last night.

That did it. CC keyed for the next 20 minutes. My estimation of Jason went up another notch. He had seriously tried to make it enjoyable for CC and also give me information about her wants and needs. He was also very inventive, but I had given him that much credit already. Jason knew more about woman's orgasms than I did, but getting practical applications is always the real test. Jason passed with honors. I particularly liked the double penetration aspect.

Once CC wound down a bit, I tossed the trash and led her into the ladies room. Since this was a converted filling station, the restroom could be locked, so I did. Then I told CC to take off her pants and panties. She blushed a little, but this was getting to be usual for her. I told her to place her feet at shoulder width, with hands linked behind her head.

This gave me a good opportunity to inspect CC from the waist down. Sure enough, the was a small ridge in her pubic area. You would never see it through pubic hair. It was barely noticeable with her mons fully shaved. I ran a finger over it and CC shivered. I had a theory to test, so I cupped my hand under CC's already moist cunt.

I said, "CC, when I get you back to the studio, I am going to gag you, tie your ankles to your thighs, your fingers behind your neck and then hang you on the wall, exposed to the cameras. I will put clamps on your nipples and pussy lips, hang weights from them and tease the weights with my flogger. Once you have gotten nicely warmed up, I will push the #4 butt plug in, dry, and put the vibrating egg in, set to high. Then, and only then, I will use the handle of my flogger on your bump."

As soon as I said "bump", my hand was flooded with warm nectar. I lifted it to my nose and inhaled. Then I offered it to CC, who started to lap it up. Once she had cleaned my fingers, I kissed her on the cheek and told her she was a good girl. I kept the panties as she redressed. When I offered to hug her, CC almost melted in my arms.

I said, "I love you, too. Now, let's get you some clothes and accessories. Petsmart can wait."

I took CC to the mall. Aside from being extremely introverted, she had no clue how to wear clothes, much less choose them, not to mention a complete ignorance of cosmetics. I bought her a short floral print sun dress and four-inch sandals. With a little hair magic I had her looking like a well developed, and braless, 15-year-old. I told her to look straight ahead, not where her feet were going, with her hands clasped behind her. If she thought of Second Position, it would get her posture right. She could focus on feeling each step, rather than seeing it.

It worked like a charm. In a mall full of high school boys and girls, traffic stopped when she walked by. The girls would pull aside in groups, to analyze the display. The boys were soon following in a pack. I paraded CC up one side of the mall and down the other. We made stops at The Gap, Old Navy, Belk and others. I picked up a few things, like hair barrettes, but mostly I wanted CC to get attention. She did that—in spades.

Then I shifted gears. We went into Dillards. Twenty minutes later she was wearing skin tight black stretch pants, with no panties, a strapless tube top, and a man's shirt, tied rather than buttoned. While in the dressing room, I let her hair down and applied mascara, eyeliner, and lip gloss. The only thing I did not change were the sandals.

As we approached the door, CC began to look spooked. I pressed on. When we emerged, there were, at least, eight teenaged boys camped outside. Some of them recognized me, but none of them recognized CC. That did not mean they did not watch her, but they stayed put. We went back around the mall, stopping at some of the same stores. The attention was still there, but further back, and centered around the older boys and the occasional young man.

Next, I took CC to Fredericks and bought a black and silver chemise. The tube top and the button shirt went into the bag. Her hair was pulled severely back and bound with a black ribbon. I applied no new makeup, but I added a pair of dark sunglasses.

It was not the perfect look. The sandals were out of place and her makeup needed more art. Still, CC was turning every male head under 50. If she had been intimidated before, she was up to scared spitless. I walked her around for about 15 minutes, then pulled her close and whispered, "Imagine this outfit with a collar and leash."

I did not have to imagine the sudden wet spot in CC's black pants.


My night with Jason was life changing. I had already considered him a friend. When he supported me, in front of Mistress, I knew he was more than a friend. Mistress said as much, as I sat in her car clutching my Walgreen's bag. Years later, I would explain the significance of the bag to Mistress's daughter. At the time, I would be eight months pregnant with Jason's son. That day, in the car, I already had an inkling of what was to come.

Mistress seemed distressed. It was too bad because she was glowing. I inhaled deeply. Like Jason had told me, the scent was subtle but it filled the air. Over the years, I would become very familiar with the smell of well-fucked-female. I learned it that morning, from my Mistress. If I read her correctly, she was noting the same scent coming from me.

It was uncomfortable. Mistress clearly had things to say. I had things I would have liked to tell her, but a lifetime of silence is a hard habit to break. Mistress figured a way around the problem. She bought me a computer and gave me my first screen name—TrulyCC. I loved it.

Mistress drove us to a yogurt shop and bought a cone and coffee. When we were settled at a table, she opened her PC and motioned for me to open mine. Suddenly, it was easy to talk. I just needed to learn to key. At first, it was frustrating, but I had had a keyboard class in middle school. Eventually, it came more easily or it would have. Mistress wanted to know about my bump.

I gave her the short version, knowing she would check for herself, regardless of what I said. When she asked about last night, out it came. I keyed til my fingers were sore. Mistress said nothing but she was quite pleased, I thought. Eventually, I finished and she led me into the Women's room.

As soon as she had locked the door, Mistress told me to take off my pants and panties. I knew what was coming, but that did not slow me down. As always, disrobing before Mistress was a rush. She had me stand with my fingers locked behind my neck. Had I been kneeling, it would be the same as the first position Miss Martel had taught me. I was coming to understand that there was a limited number of standard positions. This one seemed to be for body inspection.

Mistress checked me closely, from the waist down. I had told her where my bump was located, but she checked everything before she settled on the place. For years my short hair covered it, but I had been shaving. Mistress ran a finger over my bump. It did not cause a reaction, that would have required more force, but I shivered in anticipation. Mistress noticed.

She cupped her hand under my sex and told me what to expect: weights on my tits and pussy lips; flogging; a large ass plug and egg dildo; suspension, fully displayed. I was wet and my breath was ragged. Then, Mistress hit my bump with the handle her flogger. My honey poured out into her hand. Mistress smelled my cum, then gave me her hand to clean. I was glad to do that service.

Next, Mistress did an odd thing. She told me we would go clothes shopping. I had not anticipated that. My usual uniform is bare skin, possibly with a collar and/or gag. Why would I need outside clothes? But, she is the Mistress even if she does not like me to call her that.

Mistress drove us to the mall. In the first store, Mistress bought some high heeled wedgie sandals. In the next, she bought pretty white sun dress, with flowers. She had me put these on, without bra or panties. Then she did my hair in little girl pigtails. Once we were out in the mall, Mistress corrected my posture. This was very like Miss Martel, so I had a reference to work from. I quickly realized I had been walking wrong my whole life. I had trouble walking on the tall sandal heels, but getting my posture correct helped with that as well.

This was important because Mistress wanted to walk. We went up one side of the mall and down the other. I was told to keep my eyes straight ahead, but halfway down the mall, there was a big mirror. I snuck a peek and almost did not recognize myself. I was tall and extremely cute, in a high school freshman way. I blushed all over.

Mistress noticed but I think she had wanted me to see and understand. At that point, we started going into stores where kids hung out. I could see girls looking at me and whispering to each other. Boys were staring, and some of them were following. We had a crowd when Mistress took me into Dillards.

I had never been in Dillards in my life. I had heard how expensive everything was, but Mistress did not seem to notice. She bought a pair of stretch pants, a boob tube, a man's shirt and something I did not see. In the dressing room, she put on some makeup and let my hair down. This time she showed me my reflection. I looked years older and very sassy.

Once again we walked the mall. I think Mistress wanted me to see the difference in the way the boys reacted. Before the change, the boys were following me around. Now they were watching, but kept a distance, except for some of the older ones. Mistress took us back around the loop, even stopping at Old Navy again. I caught a good look at the two of us together. My mouth almost fell open.

Mistress is very sophisticated. She glides when she walks. I know that she is still less than thirty years old, but she comes across as older. When we first started, I could have passed for her daughter. In this outfit, I looked like her younger sister. I could easily pass for 25. About then, I noticed that men were looking. Boys are obvious, and there were many more of them, but I was now out of their league. The older boys and the young men were more subtle, but the interest was there.

This must have been what Mistress wanted me to see. Next, she took me to an underwear store and bought me a skimpy thing, called a chemise. It was something a girl might wear to bed. It went on tight, and my tits really pushed out the top. It felt so wicked it was scary.

Again, Mistress redid my hair, pulling it all back and tying it with ribbon. That must have been the other thing at Dillards. Then she added her own sunglasses. The woman standing next to Mistress, in the mirror, could not be me. She looked ten years older than I was and almost as stylish as Mistress. It scared me half to death. Of course, we needed to walk the mall like that.

Again, the difference was amazing. None of the boys did more than stare, but all ages tracked me with their eyes. I was fully covered, but I had never felt so exposed. I was still trying hard to adjust when Mistress leaned close. She told me to imagine being dressed like this, plus a collar and leash. I came on the spot. It was so embarrassing, but Mistress just led me to a table and had me sit down.

She left me long enough to buy two drinks. I could see at least five men watching me, but it felt like many more. I did my best to look unconcerned, but the heat never left my skin. When Mistress returned, the drink provided a small distraction, while Mistress pulled out our laptop computers.

Sheila: What have you learned?

That was hard because there were many things that I needed to sort through. However, Mistress does not like to wait, so I needed an answer. I just hoped it was the right answer.

CC: I learned that appearances matter, a lot. Men react to what they see, even if the changes are small.

S: More.

CC: Age matters in what men look for. When I looked 15, all the boys followed and all the girls talked. Just now, I am not sure they even noticed. Not the girls, at least.

S: Why is that?

That stopped me. This time, Mistress was patient. Finally, I wrote:

CC: The girls considered me threatening, earlier. Now they do not. Women might feel threatened, but they are better at hiding it.

S: Very good. However, you missed the most important lesson. Who did they all want?

CC: They wanted me.

Mistress sat and looked at me as if to say, "Follow that." Then it hit me. All of them, the boys and the men, wanted me. They all wanted me. They all wanted me. Oh, my God, they all wanted me. Mistress watched me closely. When I reached the end, she nodded and leaned close.

"Christine, you are a very attractive young woman. It does not matter what your age is or what you have done. Men find you desirable. If we went other places and dressed the part, you would find that women find you desirable as well. I am only slightly bi-sexual and I find you desirable.

"The decision what to do about it is yours. Not only do I not want to make that decision for you, I am uncertain that I could. You have many options available to you. Sleeping on my rug is only one of them. Also, there is something you need to know. My rug may not be available to you much longer. Sean Richards and I are going to marry next Saturday. After that, I will be sleeping with him, and trying very hard to get pregnant. Do you understand?"

Tears were pouring down my face, but understanding was one thing I had. I nodded. Mistress made me feel much better.

"Don't worry. I said I would not turn you out without a suitable place. Arrangements will be made, though I have no idea what they will be, yet. Also, I need your help with the gym clients and at the studio. That whole part of my life is going to change, and I will need hands I can trust to help. I want you to stay and learn everything. If anything, I will be giving you responsibility faster than before, because I trust you. There are few people in this world that I can say that about."

I was crying even harder when she said that. Who was I, that Mistress would trust me? Then Mistress gave me the shock of my life.

"I want you to be my Maid of Honor. Will you do it?"


One of the things about having competent people is that you have to let them work. I made my calls and answered my email. I scheduled updates and reports. I ordered a hundred things, on the chance that they would be useful. Eventually, I had to stand back and wait for things to happen. Once I reached that point, I decided it was time to bring Sheila up to date.

I tried her phone but was rolled to voicemail. I used that to say I was sending an email. Just outlining my preparations took half an hour. Halfway through, I made certain Gerald and Helen had added her to the briefing list. Once I had outlined the nuts and bolts, I started on a second, more personal, note. This one was to both Jo and Sheila. I outlined my family situation, such as it was, but the real purpose was to put Jo and Sheila in contact. Sheila may have only a high school education, to Jo's Ivy League PhD, but they both had an ability to cut through the shit and get things done. I figured they might be compatible.

That done, I decided I had enough of the house. I took a notebook and went down to the lake, where all this would take place. Fortunately, the gazebo had been much used through the years. All three of us had our graduation photos shot there, and Mother had used it, occasionally, when she was still here to entertain. I made a note to have it checked for structural soundness, but it seemed that a coat of paint might cover us.

Just down the slope was the boat house. If the gazebo was popular, the boat house was shunned. At most, Mother would have had it freshened up for an event. Still, her father was a naval commander, so the house and contents had been well maintained at some point. Having it available for reception entertainment would be a plus.

The boathouse could use paint, but the general repair seemed adequate. Inside we had the houseboat up on blocks. It would either be used or moved out of sight. Grandfather's yacht was still in residence but it was neither usable, nor easily moveable. However, it was a true classic. Starting a renovation was a possibility. We had a couple of old paddle boats, but only two. I made a note to check out rentals. Ditto some canoes and all the safety gear.

I left the boathouse with the realization that none of the family had opened the door in years, maybe decades. If Sheila and I had children, that would change. The same was true of much of the grounds. In some wooded corner there was a small cabin. I remember exploring it as a child. Mother was furious. Contrasting that to Sheila's likely reaction brought a smile to my face. Sheila would be an outstanding mother.

With that thought, I went up the hill to the old house. Much of the family residence has been added recently. My entire wing dated from the 1960s. However, the original house was a colonial mansion, complete with ballroom. It would be absolutely imperative to have the space available for the reception, yet no one had used it since the era of Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby.

I mentioned competent people. When I reached the house, I found the ballroom doors open and my heads of staff looking inside. Michael Gilbert was head of Grounds. I think he was considering the area outside the ballroom. That appeared to be a good notion, at least on its face. The area was fairly level, and we could easily place a dozen tables. Off to one side was a small patio, with a stone railing. If I remembered correctly, it was off the original main parlor. The patio was too small for dancing, but it would do nicely for a musical ensemble.

The other man was Mitchell Gilbert, Michael's brother. He was in charge of the house staff, an area much reduced from my childhood. His people would be cleaning the ballroom, as well as preparing all the guest rooms. I did not envy him his coming week. Mitchell seemed to think otherwise. This would be his first chance to shine in many years.

The three of us went into the ballroom and started discussing possibilities.


I did not know what to expect when I exposed Christine to the male population. She was nineteen years old and had never had a boyfriend. However, the raw materials were there, so I just needed to draw them out. I started with the high school boys because Christine would remember them clearly. None of them had ever given her the time of day, but that could be changed easily enough.

In general, getting teenage boys to drool is child's play. I put Christine in a short dress, with no bra, and did the hair in a young girl style. Nothing to it. For the next stage, I went for early 20s casual chic. That worked remarkably well. In that outfit, plus undergarments, Christine could easily have obtained work as a receptionist. The real revelation was when I tried for sophisticated hottie. She looked the part even more than I did. The two of us could have gone clubbing in Town and never paid for a drink.

A big part of the transformation was posture. CC had slumped. Christine stood tall and arrow straight. I could see Francine's hand in that detail. Since balance is the largest part of walking in heels, Christine mastered tall sandals in barely an hour. I almost did not test her with a submissive reference. Almost. Christine could play the part of a confident woman, but she was submissive at heart. Attention thrilled her, but embarrassment thrilled her more.

We were sitting at a food court, sipping drinks. I asked Christine what she had learned. Naturally, she focused on the reactions to what she was wearing. What she completely missed was that many women could not bring those outfits off. So, I pointed out the woman in all the outfits and watched the light dawn in her eyes. That's my girl.

Then it was time to drop the bomb. The irony of asking Christine Collinsworth to be my Maid of Honor was almost palpable. Other than Francine, who had been absent for a decade, the only women I knew were clients or the wives of clients. As it was, I considered asking Martha Douglas, but she is old enough to be my mother. I could almost see her regretful head shake. I could give Martha a lot of responsibility, and I intended to, but I needed a witness of my own generation.

Needless to say, Christine was stunned. She was already wide eyed before I asked her. I can only imagine how she felt when I made the request. There was no question what her answer would be. In point of reality, I could simply have ordered it. For Christine, that would have made it much easier. However, I wanted her to learn some control. If she eventually lived with someone like Jason, she would need the practice.

Once that was out of the way, I checked my voicemail. There were a surprising number of simple congratulations. Buried in the middle was a message from Sean, telling me that he would email me some details. This proved to be two emails. The first was dry details. The second was quite interesting since Sean had also sent it to his sister.

Sean was hinting that she could be one of my ladies. Reading between the lines, Sean also thought that she and I could be friends. I was willing to try, on both counts. As I expected, Siobhan had sent an email, introducing herself. I replied, asking if she was willing to wear a corset for the ceremony. Almost immediately, she fired back a note, asking for my IM address.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship. We have pictures.


When Mistress asked me to be her Maid of Honor, she must have known I could not refuse. I would have found it less stressful if she had simply told me to do it. I wondered why Mistress had not done it that way. I had time to wonder because Mistress was listening to her phone messages. There must have been a lot of them. As I waited, I contemplated how Mistress had been handling me.

For example, my private name is Tess. Mistress picked that as a shortening of Truly Scrumptious. She remembered my private name because she made me TrulyCC for my email and IM accounts. Yet, she was not calling me Tess, or even CC. Today, at least, she was calling me Christine.

Second point. Mistress had brought me to the mall. I have read many stories about Dominants taking submissives to the mall. Usually, there is nakedness involved and often a leash. Mistress knew this as well. She had gotten me to cum just by mentioning a leash. Yet, when that happened, she quickly moved me to a seat, where the table would hide the wet spot.

It was almost as if Mistress wanted me to be a regular person, that day at least. But, she kept reminding me what I was. Then, Mistress said she trusted me. Then, she asked me to be Maid of Honor. It was very confusing, but it gave me an idea. I picked up the bag with my other clothes and held it up for Mistress to see. She only nodded her head, toward the restrooms, and kept talking.

In a way, it was the scariest thing I did that day, and I had already told Mistress about my bump. I picked up the bag and walked to the restrooms. I tried to keep the bag in front, without being too obvious about it. Whether or not it worked, I was soon in the Women's room.

I stepped into a stall and pulled off the wet pants. Nothing else seemed to be right, so I changed into the sun dress. Mistress had said nothing about a bra, but she had not allowed one during our time in the mall. I decided that mall time was over. With a little nervousness, I pulled my bra on, then the dress over it. I could have put on my flats, but decided I liked the sandals.

At least, I did not need to wear the pigtails, though the tight ponytail also seemed wrong. I liked the ribbon, so I pulled it lower. This let a few strands loose, which softened the look quite a bit. I stepped up to the sink and checked myself in the mirror. I looked like me, but in a nice dress.

Just then, a woman came in, about 25 or so. She was wearing a pantsuit, with a Kohls name tag. For a long moment, she checked me out. I could feel myself starting to blush before she continued on to a stall. I collected my bag and went back to Mistress' table.

Mistress had the laptop out, but she paused to look at me. Her only comment was a pleased smile. This made me warm in a very special way. I quickly sat and pulled out my own laptop. Mistress had forwarded two emails from Mr. Richards and one from his sister, Jo. There was a lot to read, but I eventually worked through it all. Partway through I saw Ms. Kohls come out. She saw me, then she saw Mistress and scowled.

Suddenly, I was glad not to be alone.

Chapter 2 »