Chapter 2: Brunch With Linda and Camille

I had waited two days before venturing back to Design By Camille. My encounter with Linda having taken place late on Saturday, and other business kept me away on both the Sunday and Monday, I returned to the shop hoping the jewelry I has set aside was still unsold.

The bell on the door, advising those working in the rear that a customer had arrived, chirped a bright high pitched tune as I entered. Emma appeared through the curtain-covered archway that led to the shop's rear. Her attire did not vary much from the last time I had seen her and her co-worker Amy; a neoprene thong bottom and a bandeau top in the same material but a bright green in contrast to the black of the bottom.

Emma smiled when she saw me and told me that Camille had been expecting my return visit. The items I had selected earlier, prior to Linda's disciplinary session, were in the shop safe awaiting my return for them.

Emma called back to Camille, stating interestingly enough, "Mistress, your gentleman friend is here," and with that phrase alerting me to the fact that both Emma and Amy were submissives to Camille and not merely work subordinates.

Camille made her appearance in a stylishly cut business suit, beautifully crafted in what appeared to be several layers of opaque material, in a mauve color that was almost as dark as Camille's skin tone. She smiled and bent to open the shop's safe and in so doing allowed her skirt to creep up the back of her thighs in such a way that my eyes could not miss the fact she was either "sans culottes" as the French would say or wearing a flesh colored thong beneath the suit.

My manhood stirred at the possibility of either prospect. She rose, not bothering to tug the skirt down, and laid the three selections I had made out on the velvet mat atop her counter.

As I looked at the items I smiled, I should have been aware just from these items that there was a secret business beyond the public one represented by the fifteen feet of shop space in the front of the store.

The first item, a pair of cuff links, was made to appear to be a replica of an ancient coin of Greece or perhaps Persia. On close examination, though, the form of an adult female in fetal position and sucking the thumb of one hand became obvious. Crafted in silver, the links also had traces of gold vermeil where the hair on the woman's head and pubis were etched. I found the pieces to be subtlety erotic, yet wearable as art and functional as jewelry. There was a woman in my life for which these were destined.

The second item was also a cuff link set. These were of the type that has a straight metal bar passing through the French cuff opening of a shirt and then jeweled studs at the ends of the bar. This type usually also has a safety chain linking the end caps so that if an end cap slips loose the entire link is not lost. The end caps linked by a chain in this set were small feet. The subtle message sent by the piece to those in the life style was a submissive's spreader bar. Again this would only be obvious on extremely close examination. Camille mentioned as I was looking at this set that several of her clients had purchased this item as a three piece set.

When I screwed my face in non-comprehension, Camille called Amy out of the back and told her to strip. With a, "Yes, mistress," Amy removed her outfit, which was the reverse of Emma's, having a black bandeau top and bright lime green bottoms. There, piercing her nipples and clitoris hood, were pieces similar to the ones I had chosen for cuff links. The light of understanding finally blinked on over my head and Camille dismissed Amy. The young girl left, nude, her neoprene outfit still lying on the floor. Camille merely mentioned as an aside, "I had not given her permission to dress. She will not until I tell her I allow it." I ordered a matching piece to be made to complete my purchase as a proper set.

The last piece I had admired and intended to purchase was a necklace of wrought and hammered silver. A hidden hinge and a secure snap closure made it obvious to those in the life style that this was a submissive/slave collar. What had especiallyattracted me to it was the acid etching work on its outside. The neck collar had to be at least three quarters of an inch wide and was a heavy weight of silver. The etched relief art work on the collar was that of a woman lying down on her back with her head propped up on the hand at the end of an arm which had its elbow where the floor would be and whose bottom leg was outstretched while the upper one was slightly bent and elevated so that the woman's sex was exposed. This theme was repeated around the eighteen inches of collar and in each of the iconic woman's pubic regions was set a different semi-precious stone. Camille told me there were twelve images (I later checked this myself and counted twelve) and that each stone was a birthstone for one of the twelve signs of the zodiac. A slave's master or mistress could customize the neck collar with any one stone celebrating either the submissive's birth month or the month in which she was collared. With that last remark Camille summoned Linda from the rear of the store.

"Show Master Mark your collar, Linda," Camille ordered her niece, now her submissive/slave. Opening the top buttons of her blouse, Linda approached me. Camille stopped her and corrected her with the words, "How do we properly display merchandise in this shop, Linda?"

The coed stopped as if she were on a leash, which in fact she was, albeit a mental one, and finished unbuttoning the blouse and removed it. A glance at her aunt showed this was not enough and her cheer style shorts and the thong beneath them followed the blouse to the floor. Linda then walked up to me and presented the collar for my inspection. Hers showed the female repeatedly on her stomach with her knees bent so that her bottom was presented. A small amethyst was set into the cleft of each bottom crease. I noted to myself that the month was, indeed February and the stone for that month is amethyst. Linda had been officially collared following my participation in her discipline. I wondered to myself if I had chosen a different orifice in which to penetrate her that night if the collar design would now be different.

Camille dismissed her niece and just as Amy had done she retreated to the rear of the store nude. She also had not been given permission to dress herself.

I purchased the two sets of links (I would take the second set when the last piece for it was created), and placed the small box with the first pair into my pocket. While I had someone special in mind for the neck collar, I wanted it to be fitted on her while she was present within Camille's shop. I told Camille I would be waiting until then but to reserve a blank, without set stones, with the etchings being a woman on her knees in the position assumed to please a man orally. Camille smiled and agreed to start the work on that project upon her completion of three special orders that were now in the works in the shop.

Business concluded, I was invited to the rear of the shop for a light brunch. Emma was preparing crepes and omelets in the small but well-appointed kitchen. She would serve us while Linda and Amy acted as our tables. Both girls were informed that should any of our food or beverage spill due to the girls not being good furniture, severe discipline would follow. Linda, who was to be my table, went as rigid and unmoving as if she were carved oak. Judging from the barely healing welts I had left on her boys two days before, she had no desire for a repeat of that lashing.

Emma, who was now wearing a French maid's apron and nothing else, served my plate of crepes and a fluffy omelet with a delightful cheese melted into it. Emma returned seconds later with a chilled champagne flute. Putting the warm plate into the center of Linda's back, I then placed the champagne flute on one of the cross hatched welts on her buttock. The temperature change and the sensitivity of her bottom caused her to shudder. Despite this nothing spilled. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. I was looking with anticipation to having this minx back on a flogging rack in the near future.

Amy did not make out as well with her mistress. To be fair, Camille tortured the young woman while she ate. I watched as while sipping her champagne with one hand she dipped the other under her 'table' to play with its breasts and pinch its nipples. She then tried to find a way to tuck he napkin securely into the cleft of Amy's bottom, brushing her vagina each time. The girl finally gave in to arousal and shook so hard the plate and flatware on it fell to the shop floor. Fortunately nothing broke.

Camille looked the girl in the eye and told her she was fortunate on three counts. First, Camille had just made a large sale to Master Mark and was therefore in a good mood. Second, her plate was empty and did not break when it fell to the floor and Camille had been holding her flute of sparkling wine when Amy shuddered. Lastly, Camille was in the mood for some bare handed spanking so fifty swats with a bare hand would be Amy's punishment.

The outer shop bell rang before that session could begin. Camille rose, straightened herself out and exited to deal with her customers. Amy waited, having assumed first position and knowing if she broke it for any reason her punishment would be doubled.

THE MID MORNING SNACK

The intercom between the shop front and the workroom floor buzzed, and Emma speedily answered it, "Yes, ma'am?"

"Tell the girls to tidy up, the Channahon bridal party is here for their fittings," Camille's voice sang pleasantly over the speaker, "oh, and tell Mister Chessman to wait, my business with him is not yet completed."

"Mistress says tidy up. Amy, your discipline shall wait until the Channahon party leaves. The one-piece jumpers are in the closet. Linda, please get three and let's ready ourselves for business." Emma had taken charge. I was later to find out that she was the first under Camille's discipline and was therefore considered to be first girl when Camille was not present. I wondered what business it was that Camille and I had not completed, so I sipped my wine and waited for the bridal party to enter the workshop. Perhaps Camille would have a moment to discuss the matter while the party was being fitted.

Linda slipped the sleeveless one-piece dress over her head and still bare foot, went to the larger client closet off of the workroom and brought out the rolling garment rack labeled Channahon. I was amazed to see what looked to be twenty formal dresses and one additional bridal gown that from the beadwork alone must have cost a normal person's yearly salary.

Amy and Emma took positions, one at each end of the rack, and when the party began to file into the workroom curtsied to the woman whom must be the mother of the bride and then again to the younger woman who must be the bride herself.

I should have known from the name, but seeing the face that had graced the cover of every publication from US Weekly to Women's Fitness, I immediately recognized Marie Channahon as one of the power elite within the state and an absolute power in this county.

"As well trained as I remember your help, Camille," the woman commented. She then turned to look at Linda, who had not made a move to show subservience to the Channahon party. "Who might this little slut be, Camille?"

"My niece and ward, Linda, she is staying with me for a semester to learn the business and expects to return to Fashion Institute of Philadelphia in the Fall, Marie." Camille quickly put her niece in a slightly higher status than her employees, thus explaining Linda's perceived breech of protocol.

"Oh, she's lovely, may I see her properly attired as well as your two girls?" Marie asked in a tone that made me aware that she and Camille shared a bond beyond designer and consumer.

"For this fitting, I believe so, Marie," Camille responded. Clapping her hands three times and motioning with her finger, Camille mimed shoulder straps shrugged off and three jumper dresses fell at three young pairs of feet.

"Lovely, absolutely lovely. Now who is this male in our presence, Camille, another one of your employees?" Marie asked.

"No, this is the writer I told you about, I think you've read some of his works. Marie, this is Mark Chessman. Mark, I'm pleased to introduce Marie Channahon and her daughter Margaret." Camille stepped aside as I took the two steps needed to close the gap between the stately Marie and taking her hand in mine I kissed her wrist both on the upper and under sides and finished with a light kiss on the palm of her hand.

To say she giggled like a school girl would be an understatement, whether her delight was in the greeting or realizing she was looking at the person who had brought her pleasure in the written words I had produced I could not yet tell. Marie then presented her daughter Margaret to me. To my surprise, Margaret curtsied to me as I kissed only the back of her hand.

The rest of the bridal party held back while this was happening, unsure as to how to proceed. Marie brought that hesitation to a quick end. "Girls, Camille charges by the hour, I may be rich but I am not foolish. Strip off and find your dresses so these seamstresses may properly fit you."

At her words, all twenty attendants began removing and stacking their garments until they were all nude and at the garment rack searching for their gowns.

The oldest woman in the bridal party other than the mother of the bride was Margaret's Matron of Honor. Martha Channahon-Smythe was at least seven months pregnant with twins (as I was later told by Emma), who was busily tending to Martha's needs.

Camille saw that the three girls were handling the crowd of women quite well, and after offering Marie a flute of champagne, walked over to me. "Marie is a Dom, as you may have deduced," Camille began, "and her two daughters are learning to take that role on now that they are starting families of their own."

"The bridal party is cousins and girlfriends of the bride. The two wee ones over there," Camille nodded in the direction of a group of four tweens, two much less developed than the slightly older girls with them, "are the daughters of Aaron Channahon, Marie's only son. The older two tweens are the Garibaldi girls. Marie has raised them from the time they were six and almost five respectfully after her sister Bernice was killed with her husband Armando in a private plane crash. Marie has never allowed any of her children, including the Garibaldi girls, to wear a stitch of clothing in the Channahon mansion. Whatever season, whatever visitors or company may be present, the girls and Aaron were nude. A healthy attitude I would have adopted for my own children, if I had been blessed with any. Linda arrived on my doorstep too well formed by her late parents for me to adopt that style of parenting. However; this rebellious period at college has given me the opportunity to show her what a disciplined life can be." Marie smiled as she watched her niece and the other two shop girls go about the fittings.

The reason for the bridal party starting in bare skin became obvious to me as I watched each layer be applied to each woman present. Corsets and panties specially designed to fit into and remain hidden under the gowns were being fitted to each girl. Stockings and garters to match were also in the ensemble. Of course the dresses were simply elegant, and then dyed-to-match shoes and shawl-type wraps were perfectly blended into each girl's outfit. Jewelry was also provided and was understated perfectly to the outfit. A solitaire pendant necklace, a matching tennis bracelet and a wristwatch with a strap dyed to match the gown were all the girls needed to accent the beautiful dresses.

Marie Channahon had expected Camille to attend to her personally, yet Linda working to clothe her seemed to satisfy her very well. The fact that Marie kept slipping her hand between Linda's legs and then lifting her fingers to her nose and mouth was not lost on my attention either. I expected Camille's niece and the two shop girls would be paying attention of a different kind to this bridal party as soon as the wedding day garments were off and hung away.

"This wedding is in three weeks, Mark," Camille said to me in low voice, "Linda will help me dress the wedding party on that day. My problem is once the event is over, Linda needs to get back to school or she will lose her enrolment. I have arranged for her to attend both summer sessions to make up the work from this semester, and she'll be back on track with her class for the Fall term. I do not want her living in the dorm any longer and I don't want her out on her own either. Would you be willing to take her into your house and keep a short leash on her?"

"Camille, I'll keep her collared and leashed and naked at my feet if that is what you want. When I'm not at home I'm sure Greta will also take an interest in her care and discipline." My response was toned neutrally, but, I could sense that Camille was excited by the prospect of Greta, my long time companion/lesbian roommate being there to assure Linda was not allowed to slack off into the ways that had led to her suspension.

"Very well, in five weeks, she will be all yours. Amy will drive her down to your townhouse. I do not want her to have an automobile at her disposal just yet. Will that make it difficult for you or Greta?" Camille asked.

"No, I write, so my schedule is flexible. If I'm busy on deadline, Greta can drive her to campus and pick her up when she is finished for the day. I'm guessing, though, that if she passes this probationary period some of your restrictions will be lifted?"

"We'll see. Amy doesn't know it yet, but I'm leaving her discipline for today's accident in your hands and your time. I would think she will be sufficiently nervous about delivering Linda to you if we do nothing about it until then." Camille smiled and walked back to the wedding party, most of whom were again nude or mostly so. I noticed Camille paying particularly close attention, hands on attention, to the Garibaldi sisters. Where that might be leading was between Marie Channahon and Camille, although neither of the girls seemed too upset by the petting caresses they were receiving.

BANQUETING AT THE RECEPTION

It was short notice, but I was pleased when Camille called me four days before the Margaret Channahon wedding to tell me her invitation was a 'Plus One" and she wished for me to be the one.

Amy and Emma, along with Linda, Camille's niece, would be working the wedding and reception as the bridal party dressers. There were three changes of clothing for the bride and two for the remainder of the bridal party. All in all, dressing the party and the changes would be a full days work for the three assistants. Camille would make sure all garments and accessories were delivered to the hall where the event was to take place. She then would be free to attend the ceremony and the reception with a companion. She had chosen me to be that companion.

I looked over at Greta who was clad only in the three-piece stud and bar set I'd chosen for her on my initial visit to Camille's shop, and I told her of Camille's invitation. The smile on Greta's face was priceless. Her words then were, "And then we get the niece as a live in and that assistant to discipline, how lovely, go and enjoy yourself and be sure to bring me a present."

Greta was the perfect roommate. She wanted the taste of a master's whip and the disciplined life of a subservient; however, her traits were pure dominatrix when it concerned women. She had sex with me because she 'had to'. She dominated, seduced and consumed women because she wanted to. To that end I never concerned myself with her sexual satisfaction. She was there to please me. Totally and without reserve she was there to please and serve me. What she needed she could get elsewhere form someone else it mattered not. She wore my collar and she now wore my piercings where once she wore jewelry of her own choosing. I was quite clear that anything the 'cat' brought home was also mine to play with. The variety was endless and her taste in women eclectic.

Camille had requested I wear a white dinner jacket and formal trousers, and then asked my size shirt. I told her and she said she would have one made up for me as a special gift and would give it to me when I arrived to pick her up at her shop.

Carrying my formal gear in a garment bag, I arrived wearing cargo shorts and a Hawaiian shirt and sandals. The day had dawned in the upper seventies and had progressed to almost ninety by mid afternoon. We had had such heat waves in mid April before, but this one had come in and lay on the area for the past three days. The wedding day was not only hot but humid. I hoped Camille's creations would hold up through the afternoon and evening events the mother of the bride had planned.

When I saw the shirt I almost let out an audible gasp. Pearl gray, with tuck pleated front and stiff formal wing tip collar, it matched the gown Camille had fashioned for herself exactly. She had used the same fabric to create both garments and she confessed to me she had made a thong for herself from the same material and was wearing it beneath the gown. (It was obvious there was no bra beneath the bodice of her dress.) She had also made me pewter shirt studs and cuff links for the shirt. Up close you could tell they represented a young woman's upturned bottom. A small garnet was mounted in the cleft of the cheeks. These devices, almost a perfect match to Linda's collar, were an eerie way of linking me to her. If this was symbolic of turning the niece over to my discipline formally, Camille made no mention of it.