The Ultimate Submission (Jacqueline's Story)

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.