The Collectors (6 page)

Veronica’s final tasks were to dress me and put on my makeup. The dress was a classic black linen dress matched with black sandals. The makeup was elegant and simple, like Veronica’s. My hair wasn’t a problem. It fell to my shoulders with a natural wave. Veronica pinned it up for the minute it took her to put a three inch collar around my neck and then cuffs at my ankles and wrists. They all had rings on them, ready to be attached to something. I felt my pussy tighten. I must have been no more than a few minutes away from seeing Jeanne. From giving myself to her.

As we walked back through the small apartment, I glanced into a bedroom. It was as neat as a hotel room, but photos on the nightstand and a stuffed animal propped on the bed told me someone lived there.

“Is this your place?” I asked.

“Me? God, no. This is Adele’s.”

I stopped. “Adele lives here?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what the arrangement is between her and Jeanne, but Adele moved her stuff in here last year.”

I felt devastated, reminded of my insignificance. I had barely been touched by Jeanne, yet I somehow expected to be primary in her life. I’d already been told by Adele that she “belonged” to Jeanne. Why would I be surprised she lived in Jeanne’s house? I should have at least been relieved she wasn’t living in the main house.

I was about to ask more questions when Veronica tugged on my arm.

“Come on. Jeanne’s expecting you, and you don’t want to keep her waiting. I can tell you that much.”

Mrs. Kirchberger was on the other side of the apartment door when Veronica opened it. I was passed over without comment and led up the stairs toward the study. As I followed her, I couldn’t help wondering what Mrs. K.’s story was. She was the most reserved person I’d ever met. She hadn’t said one word to me in any of the times I’d seen her, no matter how polite I was or how direct my questions. She seemed too fusty and weird for someone like Jeanne. But then, I didn’t know Jeanne. My imagination had been obsessed with her for weeks, but time spent together in my head doesn’t really count. The only things I knew about Jeanne were that she collected art and dominated women. I was intensely drawn to her. What more did I need to know?

The study door was open. Jeanne was sitting at her desk, studying slides on a light board. She looked up and smiled.

“Ah, there you are. Thank you, Mrs. K. That will be all for tonight.”

Mrs. K. closed the door behind her and I could hear it lock. I could feel my nerves, wondering if I would please Jeanne, worried about the damn orgasm I had earlier in the day. I worried about Adele living in the house and what that meant. Maybe I was the most inconsequential of trifles for Jeanne, and Adele’s position, whatever it was, wasn’t at all threatened by me. She just feared it was. I guess I feared it wasn’t. I’ve never been one to break up a home, but the idea of not being part of Jeanne’s world seemed intolerable. I would accept second fiddle if that’s what Jeanne wanted.

Jeanne came up to me and held me by my upper arms as she looked me up and down. She kissed me on both cheeks, very Continental, and walked me to the sofa. There she poured champagne for us both and sat next to me. She kicked off her shoes and seemed very relaxed. She must have been pleased with what Veronica did, but she was not making me feel like I was about to get topped, which confused me. She touched her glass to mine.

“I wanted to thank you for your help at the auction. I was able to turn that painting around and sell it for a quick twenty-five percent profit.”

“Wonderful,” I said. “But you were the one who knew it would be valuable. I didn’t do anything.”

“But you did! You were with me. You were there for me. You understand this passion of mine for art.”

“I’d like to think I understand your other passion as well.” I peered over my champagne glass, trying to gauge her reaction to this. She dismissed my comment with a wave of her hand.

“Oh, that. There are plenty of women who get that.”

“There are?”

“You haven’t any idea, have you?” Jeanne put her glass down and started playing with a strand of my hair. “There is a very established community who enjoy dominating or being dominated by other women. I’ve lived within it for a long time. You’ll come to understand it soon enough.”

“So it is like my books.” I couldn’t believe my fantasy world might be more real than I thought.

“Adele mentioned you’re quite a collector of erotica. I’ve not read much of it myself, but I can’t imagine the real thing is much like the crap written by men.”

“Oh, no. I only collect the works written by women, about women.” I was a bit proud of this.

“Darling, I don’t want to rain on your parade, but a lot of those female author names are pseudonyms for male writers. Hacks, really. They’re writing strictly for money and haven’t a clue what actually goes on.”

I had the deep, sinking feeling that reminded me of junior high school when I would do something stupid in front of all the cool kids. It was becoming clear that those who practiced BDSM weren’t really into the books the way I was. I felt like a poser. I switched subjects.

“Speaking of Adele,” I said, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“I don’t speak about Adele.”

“So I can’t ask you what her living here means?”

“No, you can’t”

I opened my mouth, ready to approach the matter from another angle, but Jeanne spoke first.

“What interests me about you, Laura, is we share more than an interest in pain and pleasure. We share a sophisticated knowledge of art. That, to me, is very sexy.”

She leaned in as if to kiss me, her hand now holding the back of my head. Instead of a kiss she brought her lips to my ear and whispered, “Did you obey me? Have you touched yourself? Has anyone else touched you?” She moved her head back, seeking my eyes with her own. “Don’t lie to me, Laura. Everything ends if you lie to me.”

She held my face until I met her gaze. I knew I’d not be able to get away with any half truth. And I found I didn’t want to. If she was to have control of my body, I wanted her to have control of me, my craftiness, my sneakiness, my evasions. I wanted to be stripped of all the decision making when we were together. That, to me, was sexy.

“I used my vibrator today,” I said, keeping my eyes on her.

Her eyes narrowed. “I see.”

I started to speak, and she put her hand over my mouth.

“Don’t. Don’t make excuses. Don’t make your situation worse than it is.” She took the scarf from her neck and tied it around my mouth. I was crestfallen to have disappointed Jeanne, but excited to know I’d be punished for it. I could see this would be a confusing dynamic.

Jeanne stood and grabbed me by the ring at the front of my collar, hauling me up from the sofa. I soon found myself standing in the middle of the playroom. Jeanne looked at me coolly and told me to get my clothes off. She picked up a remote control and a chain began to lower from the tall ceiling, stopping at shoulder level. She clipped my wrists to it. On the floor were two small trap doors about four feet apart. She flipped those open to reveal chains bolted inside a pocket under the wood flooring. My ankles were tightly secured by these chains.

With remote in hand, she watched as my arms were raised above my head. I felt more exposed than I ever thought possible, and with each stop and start of the chain the feeling grew exponentially. I didn’t grow more naked as the bonds grew tighter. I grew more helpless, unable to move more than a few inches in any direction. I could taste the Hermes silk in my mouth. Was I drooling all over it? Was I ruining her scarf?

The few lamps lit in the room cast an amber glow, spotlighting me but keeping the rest of the room in darkness. From where I was bound, I was able only to see the sofa and chairs from which we’d watched Adele and Pat just a few days earlier. I could hear Jeanne behind me at the armoire, rummaging around a bit before the door clicked shut and her shoes on the hardwood floor marked her approach. She walked past me and put some things on the coffee table. Then she turned and took a long look at me.

What did she see? My body was stretched into an inverted Y, but rather than distorting its natural shapeliness, I could see in her eyes that the shape was exactly what she wanted to see. My face must have betrayed my growing discomfort. My shoulders began to ache and my splayed legs could not seem to take much of the weight off them. I looked down to see my breasts, bouncing a little as I tried to find the most comfortable position from a menu of zero options. I could see the tiny, unfamiliar patch of hair between my legs. Was this me? Was any of this me? As Jeanne slowly circled I knew that it was. As I sank into the discomfort I could feel her surrounding me with a net of safety. I’m not sure it made sense, but it was how I felt and it was incredibly exciting. I could feel myself grow wetter. Actually feel it.

Jeanne was behind me. She had not said a word. Her hands ran up both thighs and back down, and then they gripped the flesh and came back up, fingernails scraping along until the hands met at my ass. She skimmed over it and concentrated on my back, rubbing and scraping, the touch sensuous, as if her hands couldn’t believe how soft my naked flesh was before she marked it. This process went on around my body, every plane and fold and crease and mound first touched and then scraped, leaving red marks all over. My skin felt on fire. As she dug into my breasts, Jeanne stared deep into my eyes, a stare I returned fully, despite my eyes watering with tears.

I felt more alive, more turned on than ever before. When Jeanne’s hands hesitated in front of my pussy, I moaned loudly through the scarf, trying to thrust myself onto her hand. She smiled with satisfaction.

She removed the scarf from my mouth and then tied it around my eyes. The dark room went black.

“You’re not to utter a single word,” she said. “Screaming, however, is allowed. Within reason, of course.”

I heard her move toward the coffee table and then come back, standing quite close. There seemed to be complete silence. I couldn’t even hear her breathe. Then I felt her lips on my neck, gently nipping, then not so gently. And then, yes, thank God, she held my breasts and lowered her face to them, sucking on one nipple and then the other. Sucking harder, so I could feel a direct current between nipple and clit. Biting now, sharp, searing pain. I cried out because the pain shocked me. She bit and kissed and sucked until I felt only seconds away from coming. The pain was bringing me closer to orgasm. Was this me? Yes. As much as I always dreamed it was.

I felt a rope wrap around one breast and then the other, squeezing them, engorging them. I could feel the blood just below the skin’s surface and I whimpered. The thought that they might explode crossed my mind.

“Your breasts are glorious, Laura. They are gifts. And now they are wrapped up for me.”

I cried out as I felt the first clamp attach to my left nipple, followed quickly by one on my right. The pain was awful until a moment passed and then the pain was delicious. She added weights to each clamp. Sweat started to pop out on the top of my brow.

I heard Jeanne step away and pour herself something to drink. The leather squeaked as she sat on the sofa. I didn’t know what she was doing, but I was left standing for what seemed like eternity. The pain in my breasts and nipples subsided as they grew numb. The situation now was more one of profound vulnerability, profound submission. My desperate wish was not that I be released, but that she find me worthy, interesting, and lovely enough to continue to care for me in this way.

When she returned to me, I felt her hands at my breasts. She removed both nipple clamps and swiftly unwound the rope from each breast, the sensation of their release nearly overwhelming me. I slumped where I stood, taking all my weight on my arms as the blood rushed from my swollen breasts and back into my nipples. Jeanne then stood behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist and murmuring soothingly.

“That’s all now. We’re done for tonight. You were beautiful. So brave.”

“Done?” I said.

“Almost done.” Her hands were roaming now, caressing, gently exploring. “There’s just one more thing while you’re standing here.”

I remembered I wasn’t supposed to talk, and I wondered if she did. Her hand moved over my pussy and she didn’t seem to have punishment in mind. I tried to thrust myself onto her hand. It was involuntary, like one of those sticks that move when they sense water. I needed to come. Jeanne did not bother teasing me. She reached right for me and with less effort than it takes to pop open a soda can she had me screaming out the most intense orgasm I’m sure I’ve ever had. It lasted so long I was starting to want it to end. I thought my body might fly apart.

Jeanne lifted the scarf off me, but I couldn’t raise my head to look at her. It would have required a coordinated effort between muscle and brain, something I was not yet capable of. She held me around the waist as she lowered the chain, my shoulders burning as the pressure was slowly released. Then she unhooked the chains at my ankles and walked me over to the sofa. She handed me water.

“Did I do okay?” I asked. “I want to please you, but I have no idea if you’re pleased.”

Jeanne looked impressed. “How refreshing,” she said. “I am pleased. But we’ve only begun. I can’t take a complete newcomer like you and use all my favorite toys on you the first night.”

“Yes, you can!” I heard the eagerness in my voice. I tried to calm down. Even a dominant like Jeanne wanted a bit of mystery, a little reserve. I shouldn’t throw myself on her completely.