Famous Blue Raincoat

Inspired by the songs of Leonard Cohen

Natalie Nessus

www.cafeboudoir.com

Part 1: Sisters of Mercy

Oh the sisters of mercy, they are not departed or gone.

They were waiting for me when I thought that I just can't go on

I purchased the blue raincoat in 1986 from the Camden markets as a celebration when I finally finished fashion school. The coat was of soft leather, dyed navy blue and had those wonderful marks and creases that demonstrated its age. I guessed it was from the sixties or seventies and as I was into the retro sixties look at the time, I bought it. It was a little tight over the chest when I closed it as I do have large breasts but I was going to wear it mostly open any way. When I wore it over a black skirt, turtle neck and boots with my long blonde hair hanging loose on my shoulders, I fantasised I was Jane Asher or some terribly chic chick from the mod era with a boyfriend in the Beatles.

My boyfriend at the time sneered at it when I twirled around to show him. "It looks crummy, Marianne," Lenny said in that exaggerated south London accent of his. "It's too old, darl."

"I don't care," I said defiantly, "I love it."

Lenny had left school as soon as he could and became a mechanic, focusing on motor bikes. Now, at twenty-eight, he owned a small Ducati dealership, rode bikes all the time while dressed in his brand new red leathers and black helmet. He and his friends would take off on weekend jaunts across the channel and ride through France or Spain , leaving me behind in dreary London . I didn't like his friends much, all lads who swilled lager and whistling at girls while ogling my breasts, so I didn't care.

However, I would have liked to have gone to Paris with Lenny and enjoyed a romantic weekend but he didn't seem interested. His only interest was quick sex and boasting to his mates. At twenty-five, I wasn't interested in becoming his chief cook and bottle-washer that he could give a quick unsatisfying poke to when he felt the urge but I didn't know how to disengage from the relationship.

I wore the raincoat to interview after interview as I tried to get a job in the fashion houses but the nicer ones politely shooed me away while the others just laughed at me. In desperation, I started looking at other jobs and ignored Lenny when he tried to get me to work at his bike shop. He was also becoming very pushy about moving in together and, I knew if I didn't get a job, I would have to give up my little flat and do exactly that.

Depressed, I trudged up the stairs to my final interview for the day at 'Cut' magazine, a fashion monthly that claimed it was on the cutting edge of the new fashion. "Nice work," Nancy said as she studied my portfolio. "How long have you been in London ?" She was dressed entirely in black, her dark hair short and spiky but she somehow managed to appear cool and elegant, especially with that refined accent.

"Three years," I said tiredly.

"You haven't lost your accent," she observed as she flicked through my designs.

"Why should I?" I flared and she smiled.

"Everyone tries to be someone else in London while pretending they've been here all their lives. You look and sound like a young woman from Liverpool ."

"I am," I sighed, slumping back while I waited for her to push me out the door into the London gloom. "I'm just me."

"Well," Nancy said slowly, "we can't pay you very much and you'll have to do a bit of everything."

"What?" I exclaimed. "You are giving me a job?"

"I have to check it with Suzanne but I think it'll be fine."

I squealed in delight, leapt up and hugged her, then embarrassed broke away. "I sorry," I rushed, "it's just that I've been looking for a long time and this is so bloody fantastic and….."

"All right, all right," Nancy smiled, interrupting me. "Calm down. When can you start?"

"Tomorrow?"

Nancy laughed and nodded. "Tomorrow is Friday. How about Monday?"

I nodded and, stupidly, I felt a tear rolling down my cheek. "Thank you," I said as I wiped my eyes.

Nancy patted me on the arm and she smiled. "Us Liverpuddlian birds have to stay together, eh?" she said in a thick accent and I gaped at her. "As I said," she in her normal cultured accent with a cheeky smile, "everyone tries to be someone else but I'm as Mersey as you, love. Now dry your eyes and go and celebrate. As I said, I'll check with Suzanne but I don't believe there will be a problem."

"Thank you so much, Nancy ," I gushed as she walked me to the door.

"See you Monday, Marianne and, by the way, just adore your raincoat."

Part 2: Bird on a Wire

I have tried in my way to be free

Lenny wasn't that happy when I excitedly told me my good news and I wondered for the umpteenth time why I bothered staying with him, as he was always critical of me. I longed for romance and love but knew our relationship wasn't going anywhere, as he was just too chauvinistic.

Monday saw me nervously walking into 'Cut' but Nancy welcomed me and made me feel right at home straight away by taking me around and introducing me. Everyone was friendly and really nice and I felt quite at home when we stopped outside a closed office door. "Time to meet Suzanne, the boss," Nancy said, knocking on the door and opening it.

A dark haired woman in her thirties, sitting behind a cluttered desk, looked up and smiled as we entered. "Suzanne," Nancy said. "This is Marianne, the girl I told you about? This is her first day."

"Hello, Marianne," Suzanne said, "Welcome to 'Cut' magazine."

"Thanks," I said, smiling at her and admiring her clothes. Suzanne was dressed in style in a fashionable business suit and soft silk blouse. Her jewellery said she had both money and class and, on top of all that, she was extraordinarily beautiful.

Suzanne smiled at me, her eyes twinkling. "How long have you been in London ?"

"Three years," I answered, glancing at Nancy who smiled at me. "I know, I haven't lost the accent."

Suzanne laughed. "I suppose it could be charming." She turned to Nancy . "Have you thought of photographing her? She could be a model."

Nancy nodded. "Nice bone structure but not tall enough and too big in the chest." I blushed as they casually discussed me but I knew that this industry used models as property.

The weeks flew as I threw myself into every thing I was told to do and at the end of three weeks, Suzanne called me into her office. "You're doing very well, Marianne. Lucy is leaving to have her baby soon and I would like you to move into her job. Interested?" she asked as she raised an eyebrow.

Lucy was Suzanne's Editorial Assistant, and I was astonished at the offer, as it was a great job. "Of course," I gasped.

"I need someone with an eye for detail and design. Don't get carried away, Marianne, it's really just my assistant with a small pay rise."

"Thank you so much, Suzanne," I smiled and she regally waved a hand.

"Not at all, my dear," her dark eyes searching mine deeply. "I think you'll do very well indeed."

I sat in most of the meetings and began to really understand and enjoy the publishing business as well as enjoying working closely with Suzanne. Sometimes she could be so warm while at other times she was cold, snappish and demanding but I still loved it and began to work long hours just so I could keep up with her.

One Thursday evening Suzanne, Nancy and I sat at Suzanne's conference table as Suzanne made her decision on the photographs Nancy had submitted for this month's cover story. The models were in the clothes from a well-known Knightsbridge designer and Nancy had posed them in strange belts and handcuffs to illustrate the article called 'Slave to Fashion'.

Suzanne leaned back. "They're all good, Nancy but I'm afraid I don't see a cover shot there."

"What about that one?" Nancy said tapping one picture while exhaling smoke from her cigarette.

Suzanne shook her head. "I want something arresting, a shot people will talk about and will get people to buy our magazine. We do need the circulation figures to increase." We sat in silence for a moment, all three of us staring at the photographs spread across the table.

"Any ideas?" Nancy asked. "Anything in mind?"

Suzanne stared out the window at the lights of London . "I see a young woman's face, eyes wide open, gagged and hands bound in front of her. A close up."

Nancy nodded. "I can see it but we need this tonight. What model owes you a favour?"

Suzanne smiled coldly and I shuddered inside as her eyes swept over me. "Why not Marianne?"

Nancy inspected me. "Suppose she'd do, and she has nice eyes. I've got some props downstairs so we could do it now."

"Excellent," Suzanne said, "then let's do it."

Wait a minute, I wanted to scream, no one has asked me! Don't I get a say in this? I sat nervously waiting for Nancy to return while Suzanne smiled strangely at me, her long fingernails tapping on the table. Suddenly, she stood next to me and tilted my face up and I blushed as she examined my face.

"I'll do your eyes," she said matter of factly, opening a cosmetic bag and started applying eye shadow.

She had finished when Nancy returned carrying her digital camera, portable lights and a bag. "Hey," she said, noticing my eyes, "that looks absolutely fantastic.

"I used to be a stylist remember," Suzanne said while she applied lip-gloss to my lips. For some reason I was trembling slightly as Suzanne's warm body pressed against mine.

"Here," Nancy said as she handed some leather straps to Suzanne.

"Hands," Suzanne said, looking me directly in the eyes and I held my hands out to her so she could quickly buckle the restricting straps around my wrists. "Try to move," Suzanne said softly and I did but my hands were tightly bound. "Good, now open wide." I felt strange as Suzanne inserted a white plastic ball in my mouth and buckled the straps behind my head, carefully pulling my hair over it and arranging it.

A delicious feeling swept of me as I realised I was not in control, that these two women could do anything they liked to me. "Hold your hands in front of your chin," Nancy directed as the camera towards me. "Shit! Her shoulders are in the shot so her blouse is showing!"

"I'll undo it," Suzanne said, standing in front of me and casually undoing the buttons to my white blouse while gazing steadily into my eyes. She smiled as she opened it to reveal my large breasts cradled in a simple white cotton bra. "Poor choice in lingerie," she said and I blushed, "an ugly bra, darling. We are supposed to be a fashion magazine." Her cool fingers casually grazed over my breasts and, my whole body trembling, I knew my panties were soaked.

Suzanne peeled the blouse down from my shoulders and rolled the sleeves up so my bra was completely exposed to the two women. "I can still see the bra straps," Nancy said, the camera held to her face.

Suzanne mockingly smiled at me as her fingers slid the bra straps down; her fingers cool against my burning flesh. "That's better, she looks naked now," Nancy called and the camera flashed.

Both women stared at the camera screen critically, leaving me standing, gagged and hands bound in front of me with my heaving breasts exposed in my bra. "The red lips look fantastic against the white gag," commented Nancy and Suzanne nodded. "I could superimpose a lipstick mark on the gag and that's where we could put the title of the article."

"Let's see," Suzanne said, standing in front of me as she applied lipstick to her lips. Her perfume washed over me and my knees were weak as she gently kissed the ball gag, her lips so close to mine that a little groan formed in the back of my throat. "There," She said to Nancy , "what do you think?"

"Perfect. Try to make your eyes wider," she said to me, "and look frightened." The camera flashed again and both women examined the screen. "That's great," Nancy said, gathering her things. "I'll go downstairs and do the art." Without a backward glance she left and Suzanne smiled at me coldly as she walked around me, inspecting me and I trembled under her gaze.

"Have you ever wanted to own someone, own them completely?" she said softly as she circled me. "I do," her soft voice burned in my ears. "Of course, the person must want to be owned, to be loved completely and to give up control. I believe that's you, isn't it?" her breath brushed my ear as she whispered and I moaned behind the gag.

"It's a delicious feeling isn't it?" she mocked. "To give up all control to your owner." She studied my heaving breasts. "So plump and creamy, they would look so much better in black, don't you think?" I tried to tear my eyes away but she held my jaw and turned my face to hers. "Such a slut," she mocked. "Your nipples are like little pencils and I know if I lifted that skirt of yours you would be soaked, your pussy is leaking like a river, isn't it, slut?"

I tried to turn my burning face away but she held my chin firmly. "I'm not going to lift your skirt, slut," she whispered, "because I know what I'll find, boring panties under pantyhose and sodden with your juices. Nod if that's correct, slut." Her steely eyes held mind and, trembling as I fell deeply into her eyes, I nodded.

Scornfully, she released my chin, stepped back and perched against the table, arms folded. "Thought so. Darling, panties under pantyhose is so provincial," she laughed coldly and moved forward to unbuckle the gag. I opened and shut my mouth to remove the stiffness as she released my wrists.

I fumbled with the buttons of my blouse, head down, hoping the floor would swallow me up. "Go home, Marianne," Suzanne said softly. "Thank you for your help tonight. I think the cover will be excellent." I felt her eyes on me as I struggled into my blue raincoat and almost ran out of the office.

A taxi took me straight to Lenny's where I almost attacked him, kissing him passionately until he responded by slipping his hand up my skirt and I imagined it was Suzanne. Moments later, I was moaning and groaning as Lenny fucked me, his cock sliding in and out of my wet pussy until he shuddered and came, leaving me completely unsatisfied.

Sullenly, I watched him go to the bathroom to get rid of the condom, then he wandered to past me on his way to the television. The sound of motorbikes racing soon filled the flat while I wondered if I could masturbate without him noticing.

Instead, I slowly dressed and walked past him as he lay on the sofa watching some bike race. "Not staying, love?" he asked absently, eyes glued to the bikes going around and around some circuit.

"No," I said as I opened the door.

"I'm off with the lads tomorrow. See you on Monday." I stalked away; sure he would gloatingly tell his friends how he had given me a quick poke before his trip.

Part 3: Chelsea Hotel No.2

I need you, I don't need you

and all of that jiving around

I spent ages the next morning trying to decide what to wear to work. I had tossed and turned all night, images of Suzanne floating through my mind. Even though I was incredibly frustrated and aroused, I didn't masturbate as, strangely, I thought it wouldn't be at all satisfying.

Finally, I selected a filmy black lace bra, sheer black pantyhose, black skirt and a cream silk blouse with a short jacket. Slipping into high heels instead of my usual Docs, I critically examined myself in the mirror and blushed a little when I saw the dark shadow on my blouse caused by the black bra underneath.

Nancy waved the cover under my eyes as soon as I got in as I was removing my blue raincoat and I blushed deeply when I saw it. "You look fantastic," Nancy smiled. "This will cause some talk and some sales." She stopped and looked me up and down. "Big date tonight with your boyfriend?" she asked shrewdly.

"A date after work but not with Lenny," I stammered and started to walk away.

"Oooh," she called after me, "tell me more."

Suzanne was warm but distant with me all day as we worked and I felt a small sense of relief that she wasn't going to mention the previous night. Strangely, I felt very disappointed as well but I focussed on my job and assisted her throughout the morning. When she left for lunch with someone, I felt jealous but kept working, eating a sandwich at my desk.

Suzanne returned mid afternoon and immediately vanished into her office until the evening when I was the only one left in the office, everybody else departed for the weekend. I switched my computer off, tidied my desk, and slipped into my raincoat and, taking a deep breath, I nervously tapped on Suzanne's door.

She was seated at her desk, smoking a cigarette and gazing out the window at the lights spread before her. Turning, she tapped some ash into the ashtray and coolly examined me. "Everyone left for the weekend?"

I nodded my heart pounding. "Yes," I croaked.

"Yes, what?" she snapped, stubbing the cigarette out while I looked at her in confusion. "I'll explain it once. When we are alone you refer to me as Mistress or Madame, even Milady is acceptable while I will simply call you slut. Understand?"

I looked at her open mouthed, my pantyhose wet from moment she said 'slut' and my knees weak and trembling. Suzanne leaned forward and cupped her face on her hand that rested on the desk, her dark eyes looking me up and down. "Of course," she said with a wintry smile, "I could be mistaken and you don't want me to own you. Nor do you want me to control you and tell you what to do every moment of your life. Yes, I could be terribly wrong and this could be a tragic mistake. You should yell at me in that provincial accent of yours, resign and, of course, slam the door on the way out."

The only sound in the room for a long moment was my ragged breathing as I trembled before her until she stood, walked in front of her desk and stood there with arms folded. "I think we both know," she said quietly, "that this is not a tragic mistake. Is it, slut?"

Suzanne's cold voice echoed in my head, that delicious feeling of submission washed over my whole body and me tingled. My face burned but I understood myself better at that moment then I had ever before. "No, Mistress,' I croaked, face burning and body trembling.

Suzanne smiled slightly and she calmly arranged herself in the visitor's chair, crossing her legs so the nylon of her hose rasped. "Strip down to your underwear, slut," she said calmly. I gasped as arousal, embarrassment and submission rolled over me and slowly undressed. Face burning I stood in front of her in my bra, sheer pantyhose and high heels as she looked me up and down. "Turn around slowly, slut," she said and, trembling I did. "Hands on your head," she snapped and I complied. "Lovely," she murmured to herself as I pirouetted before her. "Are you aroused, slut?”

"Yes Mistress," I murmured, face down as I twirled before her with my hands still on my head, knowing my breasts were jiggling in the black lace bra.

"Stand still. How do you know you are aroused, slut?"

"My vagina, Mistress," I answered hesitantly, "is moist."

"No," she interrupted me sharply. "Not vagina, cunt or pussy. Say it!"

"Mistress," I said in a low voice, face red, "my cunt is wet."

"Louder."

"Mistress, my cunt is wet." My voice rang in the room and she smiled at me in triumph.

"Come here and show me," Suzanne said as she extended her hand so it was a fist. "Hump yourself on my fist, slut." Face burning, my breathing rough and ragged, I straddled her fist and rubbed my nylon covered pussy against it while I kept my hands on my head. I almost came at her touch and I rose closer and closer to orgasm as she looked up at me as I writhed on her fist. "You are such a slut," she murmured and I gasped as the pleasure rose within me until she removed her hand. It was a loss, I was so close and she smiled cruelly at me. "You come when I say so. Remove the bra and get the scissors so you can cut the pantyhose. I want your pussy exposed. Quickly!" It felt strange walking through the deserted office in my pantyhose, heels and bra to get the scissors and stranger still to cut the crotch out of my pantyhose so my pussy was in the open.

My large breasts hung free as I stood before her. "On the desk," she snapped and I lay on it quickly. "Legs apart, I want to examine your cunt." I lay exposed as she looked but did not touch. "Nice plump lips but all this hair has to go, slut."

"Yes Mistress," I murmured, head turned away in my secret humiliation and my hair spreading on the desk.

"Put your raincoat on, slut. We are going." I struggled to do the raincoat up and Suzanne laughed when she saw how my breasts were squeezed together as I closed the buttons. Ordered to leave it undone below the waist, she suddenly pulled me to her and kissed me, her lips crushing mine as her tongue took ownership of my mouth. I felt her fingers brush my pussy as we stood there in that wild embrace and gasped when her fingers invaded me. "So wet," she breathed in my ear.

"Yes Mistress," I moaned.

Her finger danced on my mouth. "Taste yourself," she instructed as her finger slid in and out of my mouth. "Good slut," she whispered. "Now you will get to come, darling." Her fingers stroked and caressed my aching pussy as she held me in a tight embrace. Her lips crushed mine again as I rose closer and closer until I cried out with the power, the explosion of the type I had never felt before.

Suzanne made me play with myself in the darkness in the back of the taxi as we drove to her house in Chelsea . My clothes and my handbag had been left behind in a cupboard in her office and I was still dressed in the raincoat, ripped pantyhose and heels. I was sure the taxi driver knew something was going on but I kept stroking and caressing myself under the cover of the blue raincoat. Suzanne leaned over and kissed me once and I saw the drivers eyes widen in the rear view mirror. "Are you wet, slut?" she whispered softly in my ear, her warm breath caressing my neck.

"Yes Mistress," I whispered in return and she smiled in the darkness as London crawled past.

As we stood on the pavement looking up at her house, Suzanne said, "I call it the Chelsea Hotel ," and laughed. "Leonard Cohen," she explained when I looked puzzled. "I certainly have to educate you."

The house was warm and gorgeous but Suzanne didn't waste anytime showing me around. "The bathroom is in there," she said. "Run my bath. Now, slut!" she snapped and I rushed to do what she said, my raincoat rustling as I hurried. "Take that coat off," Suzanne said on my return. "I'll have a Gin and tonic, you'll find the drinks there." Practically naked while she remained clothed, I did as instructed and handed her the drink. As she sipped it, she pointed at the floor near her feet and I sank down onto the carpet. Slipping her shoes off, she sighed and offered me her foot. "I need a massage. Gently."

The bath was ready and she pulled herself to her feet. "The guest bathroom is there. You can have a quick shower as well as removing that hair," Suzanne said, glancing down at my pussy. "When you are finished, you will wait for me on your knees in my bedroom. Understood?"

"Yes Mistress," I said quickly and she stared deeply into my eyes.

"You will do everything I say, slut," she said, gently weighing my breasts with her hands. "The first time you don't do what I say or, worse, lie to me or disobey me, this is over, finished. Clear?"

I felt an immediate sense of loss and I knew I did not want this ever to end. "Yes, Mistress."

Feeling so vulnerable, so open and more naked than ever before with my smooth pubic mound and my protruding plump pussy lips, I knelt at the floor of my Mistress's bed. After an eternity, she swirled into the room in a black negligee, a glass of wine in her hand and her perfume washing over the room. "I prefer the room like this," Suzanne said as she dimmed the lights. "Remember that."

"Yes Mistress."

"Have you licked a woman before, slut?" she asked as she arranged herself on the bed and I shook my head. "I will teach you to please me, slut. You don't get to come again until I have got my fill. Come to me," she said softly, patting the bed and I lay beside her. "You look like a little girl with your bald cunt," she said, smiling and I blushed. "Still coy and I do enjoy your little blushes," she murmured as she lowered her face to mine and her lips tenderly caressed mine. After a few moments, she pointed down at her pussy and I slowly crawled down to begin my education.

Many hours later as I lay next to her in the dark listening to her deep breathing as she slept, I played the events of the night over and over in my mind. My fingers wonderingly touched my lips where the taste of my Mistress remained and I recalled the many orgasms I had helped her to reach while I remained denied, waiting for her instructions.

She stirred in her sleep and pushed against me and I snuggled against her thinking, as I fell asleep, that I was the luckiest girl alive and, maybe, tomorrow my Mistress may let me come.

After a late brunch, Suzanne looked me up and down. "I have to find something for you to wear. Follow me." I waited patiently as she rummaged through her wardrobe and she tossed me a pair of black jeans, a fisherman's pullover and socks and gym shoes. "Try those," she said and I pulled the jeans on without underwear and, although a bit loose around the waist and long in the leg, if I rolled them up I was presentable. The bulky fisherman's jumper hid my loose breasts and the shoes slipped on easily.

My blue raincoat completed the outfit and, self-conscious with no underwear, I followed my Mistress into the grey morning. The first stop was the hairdressers and with no input from me what so ever, Suzanne dictated how my hair s was to be cut and styled. I gasped when I saw my reflection; I looked so stylish, so elegant with my hair shorter. Next on the list was a beautician where a young gay guy made up my face to Suzanne's directions. Again, I was shocked as I gaped at the reflection.

"She's very beautiful," he said to Suzanne, fluffing my hair slightly as he studied the reflection.

Suzanne stared at the reflection. "I know," she said softly. "I know."

With the instructions on how to make my face up firmly in my raincoat pocket, Suzanne led the way into a lingerie boutique. "You will never buy M. & S. again," she said sternly as we wandered through the racks as she selected panties, bras and slips for me to wear.

"No Mistress," I said and the sales assistant looked sharply at us in surprise while Suzanne beamed proudly.

More shops and more clothes and I was trying a black leather skirt and top on when Suzanne suddenly appeared in the dressing room so I stood still while she inspected me. "Beautiful," she breathed. "Pull up the skirt so I can see your bald pussy, slut," she said softly and I immediately complied. I marvelled at how easily I now followed instructions but I also knew I wanted to, no needed to, as disobedience would cause me to lose Suzanne.

So I stood in the changing room of the busy store, displaying my newly shaven pussy to my new mistress, separated from the hubbub and eyes of the ordinary women who milled outside by one thin curtain.

Suzanne insisted I wear the new leather skirt and top with new boots and my old favourite blue raincoat and, as we left the shops, I could not recall a moment in my life when I had been happier.

We lunched at a fashionable restaurant where everyone seemed to know Suzanne, dropping by the table to talk while frankly inspecting me. I said nothing unless spoken to and always answered carefully, as I didn't want to embarrass Suzanne.

"I'm very pleased with you," she said as she sipped her wine, a soft smile on her beautiful face.

"Thank you Mistress," I said, eyes lowered. "I try hard to please you."

"Why?"

I thought carefully but the answer was obvious. "Because I care for you very deeply, Mistress."

Suzanne sipped her wine thoughtfully. "Thank you," she said simply. We sat in silence for a moment and then she cleared her throat. "There is one thing," she said softly. "I am not going to demand it, I'm going to ask you and you can say no to me this one time." I looked up and saw she was misty eyed. "Will you go to a speech coach to remove your accent?"

"Would it please you, Mistress?"

"Yes," Suzanne said and then said in a rush, "It will make it easier for you to fit in for our future life." She tailed off and waited anxiously.

"I will do it, Mistress," I said.

"Are you sure because from what Nancy said you were very enthusiastic about keeping your Mersey identity?"

"That was before I met you, Mistress. You are my identity now," I said simply and a single tear rolled down Suzanne's cheek.

Part 4:You Know Who I Am

all of the moments that we will be.

You know who I am..

I think we were a little tipsy from the wine when we staggered into Suzanne's Chelsea house with all our packages. Suzanne dropped the packages, grabbed me and kissed me passionately. "Lick me," she breathed and I slid to my knees, slowly raising her skirt and, after pulling her panties to one side, buried my lips to her wet pussy.

She came so easily.

But she did not allow me to come.

The afternoon drifted by as we read the newspapers, listened to music and talked. I told her everything, not holding anything back as I discovered I could not lie to her so I told her things about myself that I had never told anyone.

As I soaped her back in the bath, she sang softly to herself and I wondered how I had spent my life without this woman, my mistress. Suzanne smiled at me as she stepped from the bath and her fingers lightly caressed my bald pussy as I towelled her, causing a soft moan to escape me. "You are such a slut, darling," she said, smiling, her body pink and rosy from the bath.

Suzanne dressed in slinky black leather pants, black silk top and leather bomber jacket with high heel boots. She picked a pair of tan stockings from our shopping, a caramel garter belt, and stiletto shoes, handing them to me. "Put these on after you've done your face." As I followed her instructions, I heard her order a taxi.

"Hands behind your back," she said when she returned and a delicious feeling rippled through as I did, feeling her strap my elbows and my wrists together so my shoulders were pulled back. Suzanne smiled as she strapped a black leather collar around my throat because she had noticed my ragged breathing. As a final touch, she applied rouge to my nipples and to my labia, even my clit and led me to the mirror so I could see myself. I blushed at the reflection, as I stood naked except for stockings, high heels and garter belt, my large breasts appearing even larger by having my shoulders forced back and my nipples and slit emphasised by the rouge.

"We are going to a party, little slut," Suzanne said as she studied my reflection. Going out, I thought in shock? "Only speak when spoken to and you must keep your legs apart all night so everyone can see what a slut you are. Understand?"

"Yes Mistress," I croaked, wet with arousal. Suzanne draped a long black cape around me to cover my nakedness, drawing it closed around my neck and she led me to the waiting taxi. Remembering her words, I sat in the back seat with my legs apart and I felt Suzanne's hand slip under the cape as she gave the driver an address down by the river.

I felt so vulnerable, so submissive and so exposed that I was sure I was leaving wet patches on the cape where I sat on it, especially since Suzanne's fingers occasionally flicked my aching clit. We stoped at a large warehouse and Suzanne led the way in and I saw it was a dimly lit club of some sort with music playing and women dancing. I realised there were only women and I gasped in shock as Suzanne removed by cape and casually gave it to the young woman at the door. From her bag, Suzanne retrieved a leash, snapped it on the collar and led me naked across the dance floor to a group of tables. Women stopped dancing and watched us as we passed, some greeted Suzanne by name but their eyes never left my body as my face burned in humiliation and shame.

We reached a table and Suzanne pulled a chair slightly away from it and gestured for me to sit. I did so with my arms strapped behind me with my legs apart as she tied the leash to the back of the chair. Without a word, she strolled over to the bar, leaving me vulnerable and exposed while she chatted with a group of women.

Two women stood before me, their eyes roaming over my body. "Fantastic tits," one said and the other nodded, her eyes staring at my open crotch.

"She's got lipstick or something on her pussy," she said and they giggled as, arm in arm, they walked away.

Suzanne accompanied another woman returned and they sat at the table, drinks in their hands.

"She's very lovely, Suzanne," the woman commented, her eyes appraising me.

"Yes, she is and she's such a slut. Aren't you?" she said, staring coldly at me.

"Yes Mistress," I whispered.

"What?"

"I am a slut, Mistress," I said more loudly and the other woman laughed.

Suzanne leaned over and slipped her finger into my pussy. "She's so wet," she smirked as I gasped. "I could fist her so easily. Look," Suzanne said and her companion leaned over to watch as Suzanne slipped two more fingers into me, sawing them in and out as I moaned. "You like that, slut?"

"Yes Mistress," I moaned, eyes closing. Suddenly her hand stopped, the fingers withdrew and I felt something moving on my stomach. I looked down and saw she had written something on my stomach in lipstick.

"I know who you are," Suzanne said, leaning close and kissing me softly on the ear. Suddenly, she and her companion stood. "We're going to dance," she announced and both walked away.

As they danced, some women gathered around me, staring down at me. "What does it say?" one asked, pointing at the lipstick marks on my stomach.

"Feel the slut," another supplied the answer and a black woman squatted in front of me, her fingers tugging at my pussy for a moment until she slid two fingers into me. I moaned as another stood behind me and cupped my breasts.

"I always wanted to have tits this big," she giggled as the black woman ran her fingers in and out.

"She's so fucking wet," she said, wiping her fingers over my breasts and they walked away laughing as I sat in shame. It was like that all night, fingers caressing me, wiping my own juices over my body and my face, constantly bringing me to a higher and high pitch of arousal but never coming.

Finally, Suzanne released the leash and led me to a bowl in the corner of the club. "Squat and pee, dear. You must have to go by now."

I looked at her in shock and realised the whole room had become silent as everyone watched. Face burning, I squatted over the metal bowl and released my urine in a stream as everyone laughed and clapped. A smile of triumph on her face, Suzanne laid the cape around me once again and, suddenly seizing me crushed her velvet lips against mine in a soul-claiming kiss.

Back at Chelsea, I knelt with my arms still bound and serviced my Mistress's pussy, her dark pubic hair slick with juices and I realised she had become aroused by controlling me. Proudly, I gave her several orgasms and in the early hours of the morning, she released my arms and allowed me the delicious humiliation of masturbating to orgasm in front of her.

"You know who I am," I whispered into her mane of dark hair as we held each other before sleep.

"And who is that, darling?" she answered drowsily.

"Yours."

Part 5: So Long Marianne

Come over to the window, my little darling,

I'd like to try to read your palm

The subject of Lenny came up on Monday night. Although I hadn't returned to my flat, I assumed his messages would be waiting for me on my answering machine but I didn't know what to say, how to explain my new hairstyle or look. I had worn the new clothes to work that morning and Nancy had looked me up and down and softly whistled. "A change of lifestyle over the weekend, Marianne?" she asked. "Love your hair and you look gorgeous."

Suzanne and I had arrived at work at different times and she treated me exactly the same way she had the Monday before, although I felt her eyes on me from time to time. That night, as I sat by her feet gently massaging them while she smoked a cigarette, she asked, "What are you going to do about that boyfriend of yours?"

"I don't know, Mistress," I said softly. "I don't want to hurt him."

Suzanne sighed. "Sweet gentle passive Marianne," she said as she blew smoke into the air. "Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind." She looked down at me and smiled softly. "I'll do it for you. Would you like that?"

"Yes Mistress."

"Call him and invite him to dinner at your flat tomorrow night and I'll come to. I want to see your little place before you move out to live with me. You do want to live with me?"

My heart leapt and I beamed up at her. "Oh yes, Mistress, more than anything."

Gently, she patted my cheek. "Sweet Marianne but such a slut underneath," she murmured.

Lenny wanted to know where I had been. "I've been really busy at work," I explained, "with my new job. Anyway, I want you to come around tomorrow night for dinner as I'm having my boss over."

"Quaint," Suzanne said as she wandered through my little flat and I flinched in embarrassment as I suddenly saw it as it was. This was not Suzanne's Chelsea Hotel but a cold cramped flat and I all ready yearned to return to the comforts of Chelsea where I felt so at home, where I could be true to myself.

Suzanne bubbled along over dinner and I could see she charmed Lenny in every way, although he kept glancing at me from time to time. "You're quiet, darl," he said once as Suzanne opened another bottle of wine.

"Just tired," I said softly.

"She's all right, isn't she," he said, nodding at Suzanne who was searching the kitchen for new glasses.

My heart surged when I saw her in the golden light of the kitchen, stretching up to the cupboard and I wanted her to make me feel safe, to take me home.

At the end of the dinner after Suzanne had described her first motorbike experience to an enthralled Lenny, she suddenly announced that she would clean up so Lenny and I could catch up. Lenny half-heartedly protested, glancing at me but I kept my eyes lowered.

As I carried plates into the kitchen, Suzanne turned to me, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Lenny was in the other room, sorting through CDs. "Suck his cock," she said to me calmly and I looked at her in shock. "When I come out of here, I want to see you kneeling in front of him and sucking his cock. You've done it before, do it again! No ifs, no buts, you just do it!" she hissed.

"Yes Mistress," I said, eyes lowered and she gently tilted my head up.

"It's for the best, darling."

The room was half-lit by the candles still on the dining table and Lenny was standing next to the window, looking down onto the street when I came back in. He started to talk about what he and the lads had got up to in Spain when I cut him short by kissing him passionately while dishes rattled in the little kitchen.

My fingers brushed his cock and it was hard so I unzipped him, to free it so I could get this terrible moment over with. "What are you doing?" he hissed, eyes darting to the kitchen but I just smiled up at him as I sank to my knees. He groaned as I started to suck him, a low guttural moan when my tongue caressed the head of his cock.

I sensed a movement as something brushed past me but, although I kept sucking, I could see Suzanne's legs as she stood next to Lenny. "What the fuck!" he exclaimed.

"It's all right, Lenny," I heard her say. "Look at her, she's such a slut, isn't she?" He moaned as the moment obviously aroused him even more. I felt Suzanne's hand push me back and, still kneeling, I saw her hand curl around his cock, slowly moving up and down.

"Look at her, Lenny," she whispered as her hand moved. "Kneeling there so you can come all over her face. Such a slut." He groaned and I saw her other hand had slipped behind him. "Feels nice, doesn't it?" she said in his ear as her hand kept up its relentless movement.

"She's a slut but, Lenny, she's my slut." His body tensed and I knelt, waiting. "It's time to say goodbye, to say so long Marianne." He groaned loudly, grunted and shuddered and soon his sperm was flying through the air to land on my face, running down my cheeks as Suzanne firmly milked him.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Lenny tucked himself back in, glaring down at me as I knelt before him with his cum running down my face. "You fucking bitch!" he said hoarsely.

"Calm down, Lenny," soothed Suzanne. "You can't give her what I can, what she needs. It's time to say goodbye." He raised his hand to slap me and I waited for it. "Don't," Suzanne said quietly. "There's no point." They locked eyes for a long moment and then he stormed out, glaring at me for a moment and then slammed the door.

I never saw him again.

Suzanne lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and blew smoke through the room then smiled down at me. "Clean that disgusting mess of your face, darling," she said brightly. "Then we'll pack your things so you won't have to come back here again."

Part 6: Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye

I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time,

walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme

Suzanne and I were together for nine wonderful years.

Such sweet and sad memories carry me through my life.

I remember evenings at her house, snuggled together as we talked and kissed softly, such tenderness, such love. Other times, she would demand I bend over the bed, hands bound while she caned my bottom until the tears ran down my face.

I remember the time, soon after our relationship became public, she took me again to that private club down by the river, pushed me face down over a table and fucked me with an obscenely pink strap on while the audience cheered.

There was the other time she took me, naked under my skirt, to a seedy tattoo shop where she had some old man tattoo a black rose next to my pussy. He kept staring at my bald cunt while he worked my face crimson as people wandered in and out of the shop as Suzanne smoked and smiled down at me.

Another time, instead of going home, we drove to the airport and flew to Paris for a wonderful weekend of love, sex and submission. I remember being spanked in the hotel while the city of Paris spread out below me.

We worked well together and I became editor while she remained as publisher. 'Cut' magazine was a real force, the voice of alternative fashion. After a one successful year, tipsy with wine, she informed me I was going to get pregnant so we could raise a daughter together. She just hadn't figured out how to do it but it would happen, she assured me.

Such a crazy beautiful woman but her plan failed, as she became very sick. It came in a rush and the diagnosis hit me, a sense of loss that overwhelmed me. Suzanne became very ill so quickly and I spent all my time nursing her at the Chelsea house.

She lost so much weight as well as her energy but she never lost her love of life. I read the poems of Leonard Cohen to her while she lay in our bed, her long dark hair splayed out of the white pillow.

One morning as the weak Sun was trying to stir some life into the city, she took my hand, a faint smile on her lips and for a moment I saw the old Suzanne. "Thank you," she said simply, squeezing my hand as tears fell from my eyes. "I remember you well at the Chelsea Hotel ," she quoted softly and smiled.

And died.

I held her and sobbed, my whole body rocked with pain and loss as the noise of the living city sounded from the streets outside. The one reason for my life had gone, the one guiding and directive force in my life had vanished and I was all alone. When I finished crying for Suzanne, I cried for myself.

Everyone from the fashion industry was at the funeral and I sat in the front row, so alone, so sad and so afraid. It was a small church and the grey and dismal day outside contrasted with the flowers that lay around the coffin.

At last, it was my time to speak and the church was absolutely silent as I stood in front of the microphone, everyone wondering what I was going to say. My hands were trembling as I looked at the small white cards I had carefully printed my speech on and a sudden image of a sardonic smiling Suzanne flashed in front of my eyes.

I took a deep breath and tossed the cards into the air and the audience gasped. "That was my speech," I said, my voice breaking slightly. "All nice things about fashion and the world but this is what she would have wanted to hear." Tears pricking my eyes, I began to recite.

"Now Suzanne takes your hand

And she leads you to the river

She is wearing rags and feathers

From Salvation Army counters

And the sun pours down like honey

On our lady of the harbour

And she shows you where to look

Among the garbage and the flowers

There are heroes in the seaweed

There are children in the morning

They are leaning out for love

And they will lean that way forever

While Suzanne holds the mirror

And you want to travel with her

And you want to travel blind

And you know that you can trust her

For she's touched your perfect body with her mind"

The church was hushed and I knew the tears were rolling down my face and even the black veil no longer hid them. Trembling, I removed the hat and veil and stood proudly staring out at the audience, my face streaked with tears.

"And I loved her so," I said and I could hear someone crying in the church while others sniffled. "I love her so much and I know she loved me. Goodbye, Suzanne, I don't know how I will live without you."

Part 7:Seems So Long Ago, Nancy

It seems so long ago,

none of us were strong

I quit the magazine and retreated to the Chelsea house that Suzanne had left me, wandering the rooms and touching her things. The songs of Leonard Cohen were on constantly and I read all her books, learning and devouring every last vestige of her. Slowly, I rebuilt my life as I learned to take control and make decisions but I was always alone and I always missed her. The famous blue raincoat hung alone in the wardrobe but occasionally I would take it out just to feel it and to remember.

After a almost a year, I was lying in the bath, staring at my body as I remembered the things she used to do to me and suddenly it seemed to be another person that had achieved that ecstasy. My eyes were drawn to my pubic hair that I had grown back but kept trimmed so I could always see the black rose tattoo and idly wondered if I would ever masturbate again. It was at that moment I decided to take control of my life, to stop regretting and to move forward while always remembering.

Feverishly, I threw myself back into design, working long hours and totally focussed on finishing a complete collection. A friend of Suzanne's helped me to find a financial backer and my label was launched six months later.

Nervously, I waited backstage until the last models took my hands and walked with me out onto the catwalk to the glare of lights and thunderous applause. I looked around at the audience, recognising many as they stood to applaud and I knew I had finally moved on.

"Thank you all so much," I said in the cultured voice that was a lasting legacy of Suzanne.

Later, exhausted after circulating through the crowd, I stood in a corner and sipped champagne when a voice made me turn around. "Darling, you look and sound like you belong here."

I whirled to see a smiling but older Nancy . "I've always been in London ," I smiled. "I come from London ." We both squealed and hugged each other, laughing and wiping eyes. "I thought you lived in New York ?" I asked. "You still have your accent," I mocked.

"Darling, Americans are such suckers for a good British accent." She held me at arm length and looked me up and down. "Marianne, you look fantastic as usual and the collection is stunning. Suzanne would have been so proud," she added quietly.

"Thank you," I said softly, eyes pricking.

"So, how are you really?"

"Better," I said brightly. "Getting better every day."

"Good," Nancy said, hugging me. "God, it's good to see you. You see that man in the black suit over there?" Nancy pointed at a man who waved at her. As she waved back, she said, "That's my husband."

"You're married?" I said incredulously.

"I know, stupid of me but he actually loves me so what could I do?" Nancy laughed again then a serious look appeared on her face. "What about you? You got anyone?" I shook my head. "Have you been with anyone since you lost her?" Again, I shook my head, tears prickling.

"Marianne," Nancy said, seizing my arms and gazing steadily into my eyes, "it won't ever be the same but it can be different. She would have wanted you to live life, you know," she added quietly and I looked away, blinking. "I was her oldest friend, Marianne and do you know what she would say to you if she could be here right now?"

The lump in my throat felt huge but I manage to say, "No, what?"

"Nice collection, darling, but you can't fuck clothes." Nancy started to smile and I couldn't help but smile back until we were both laughing and hugging.

That night, I sat in front of the crackling fire and realised Nancy was right, Suzanne would have told me how pathetic I was, how useless and how I should get on with it.

I was smiling wryly to myself when the doorbell rang. "Who is it?" I said into the intercom.

"It's Jane from 'Cut' magazine, we had arranged an interview? I'm a little early but I thought it would be all right."

I had forgotten I had agreed for my old magazine to feature my collection. "That's all right," I said wondering if I looked all right as I was just wearing a black silk pants suit. "Please come in," I said as I opened the door.

Jane was a young dark haired woman, about twenty-five years of age and dressed in wool skirt, shapeless jumper and grey coat. "Thank you, this is very nice," she said looking around.

"Thank you. In here would be best, I think," I said leading the way.

"Who's that singing?" she said as she sat on the sofa.

"Leonard Cohen. Would you care for some white wine? I'm having one."

"Thank you, that would be nice." Jane took her coat off and she seemed to be nervous around me, her fingers trembled as I handed her the glass.

"Now," I said briskly, leaning back in the chair as the fire crackled, "what do you want to know?"

"I just wanted to confirm some facts," she said, eyes dropping to her notes. "I've done a lot of research."

"Really?" I smiled, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," she said and she blushed. "The magazine wants you to be on the cover, that's exciting, isn't it?' she rushed on as if to cover some embarrassment.

"I've been on the cover before."

"I know," Jane said softly and pulled out the old cover, my gagged wide-eyed face staring up at me.

"God," I laughed, "I haven't seen that for years." I sat still for a moment remembering.

"You were very beautiful," she whispered.

"Thank you," I said, staring at the Suzanne's lipstick mark on the white ball-gag.

"You still are," Jane murmured, eyes down and I looked up.

"Thank you again," I said slowly, watching her. "What other facts would you like to confirm?”

"You worked a long time with the founder of the magazine?"

"Suzanne and I were lovers," I said firmly and she gave a sharp intake of breath. "Is that confirming something for you?" I said and she nodded.

We sat in silence for a moment, Leonard Cohen singing 'Famous Blue Raincoat' in the background and I sipped my wine as I watched her breasts rise and fall in the shapeless jumper. Jane was quite beautiful in a dark gipsylike way; about the same age I was when I first met Suzanne.

I sat back in the chair, crossed my legs and studied her. Jane sat with her hands in her lap, eyes down and I could hear her ragged breathing over the music as I remembered another time and another place.

"Have you ever wanted to own someone, own them completely?" I said softly. "I do," I added, realising it was true. "Of course, the person must want to be owned, to be loved completely and to give up control. I believe that's you, isn't it?"

I watched her calmly as she rushed to gather her things, her hands shaking as she shoved papers into her bag. "I'd better go," she croaked, jumping to her feet and nervously looking around.

"I know it's hard to recognise something which we've buried deep inside ourselves but, sooner or later, you will." I gazed at her steadily, casually sipping my wine. "I believe I asked you a question?" I said firmly and her head jerked around, eyes wide. "I think you came here tonight to answer that question."

"Yes," she murmured, head down.

"Yes, what?" I snapped, placing my glass on the table beside me while she looked at me in confusion. "I'll explain it once. When we are alone you refer to me as Mistress or Madame, even Milady is acceptable while I will simply call you slut. Understand?"

She looked at me open mouthed, standing shakily against the door and her bag slipped to the floor.

"Of course," I said coldly. "I could be mistaken and you don't want me to own you. Nor do you want me to control you and tell you what to do every moment of your life. Yes, I could be terribly wrong and this could be a tragic mistake. You should scream at me, stomp out, rush off to that magazine and write a terribly nasty article about me. Don't forget to slam the door on the way out."

Leonard had finished singing and the only sound in the room for a long moment was her ragged breathing as she trembled before me.

I stood in front of the fire with my arms folded, just like Suzanne so long ago. "I think we both know," I said quietly, "that this is not a tragic mistake. Under that prim and proper appearance, there lies a wanton slut who needs to be controlled and you will prove it to me by lifting your skirt now to show me what you are wearing underneath."

Jane's hands were shaking as she slowly gripped the hem of her skirt and started to raise it.

I smiled in satisfaction. "Do not disobey me again, slut," I snapped as she pulled the skirt to her waist and stood there, revealed and trembling.

"No, Mistress," she croaked.

Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of your hair

She said that you gave it to her

That night that you planned to go clear

Did you ever go clear?

*****************************************************************************

So, this is where it all started for me, my first story written completely by myself. It was rushes of emotion, remembering many things and I am not yet brave enough to tell you what is true and what is not.

Perhaps another time.

She is gone and she would smile at the way our memories have pushed me into a different path. I still miss her.

Life is a cycle, women know this and we all grow and change, become someone else, slip into an empty shell.

I remember that night, the night you left. Did you ever go clear?

Natalie