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Famous

By: dark moon



Most celebrities get hounded for autographs, and I got my fair share of that, but along with the autograph seekers I got the fans who asked me to have sex with them. I knew other celebs got that too, but I got it a lot more, about ninety percent of the time. I took it personally in the beginning, but the more it happened the more I got used to it. I realized and accepted that it just came with the territory. I even gave my fans what they asked for every once in a while, if I was in the mood. And if the fan (girl or boy, didn't make much of a difference to me) was cute enough. But I had to be selective; a lot of people are mean, dangerous, or just plain out of their minds. And the fans I had, they all believed I was nothing more than an out of control nymphomaniac, that I'd do it with anybody at the drop of a hat. One of the pitfalls of the industry. When you make fuck films for a living, everybody in the world thinks you're a slut.

There were moments when I just despised the future. Because of its unknown aspect. Because even if I had a good idea of what was coming, I could never be sure. Sometimes that can work in your favor, though, if what you're expecting is adversity, because at least then you can get yourself mentally prepared for the worst. And you can try to hope for the best.

This was my outlook when the plane finished taxiing and the passengers began unboarding. I knew that the next week or so was going to be difficult, but I tried to hold out some hope that it wasn't going to be as bad as I expected.

I took my time getting my carry on bag, then let other passengers go ahead of me. I would have let all of them go ahead but an older man in a business suit had to be a gentleman and insist on letting me go first. I went down the aisle and through the corridor to the main gate, half holding my breath.

Jimmy, my older brother, was waiting for me, and I saw him before he saw me. I started toward him and his gaze shifted. Our eyes met and his face lit up with an instant smile, which made me smile too. I realized I was glad to see him, and as we came together I laughed a little and held my arms out. Jimmy hugged me and kissed my cheek.

"Hi, Trish," he said, "it's so good to see you again."

"Good to see you too," I said.

We finished our hug and Jimmy asked me if I had luggage. I did, so we started toward baggage claim, talking and holding hands as we walked. We asked after each other's welfare, and I asked Jimmy how his job was going. Other minor things. I was really surprised that he was receiving me so positively; I was sure he would hate me. But he was not only nice and friendly, he seemed to purposely avoid mentioning my work.

When we got to baggage claim he grabbed my suitcase and carried it himself as we made the long trek out to his car. Jimmy kept up the majority of the conversation, telling me all about his work and his friends. Once we were in the car and driving out of the airport he switched the topic to his love life.

"I've had so many girlfriends in the last three years," he said, shaking his head. "None of them worked out. They either wanted too much from me or not enough. I don't know, Trish. I want to have a relationship with somebody, you know? I want to be able to connect with somebody, but it seems like none of the women I meet really try to understand me. They just want to come in and try to complicate my life."

"Maybe," I offered, "you seek those kinds of women out, Jimmy."

Jimmy chuckled a little and asked, "Why the hell would I do that?"

"Because you either don't really want to commit, so you pick women you know on some level aren't going to work out, or you've already made up your mind about the kind of woman you want, and until you find her you're just going through the motions." Jimmy thought about this for a minute as he navigated the onramp to the freeway.

"Okay," he said, "if that's true, Trish, then why am I just going through the motions? I mean, why bother doing that?

I shrugged and said, "To get laid, I guess. Keep yourself in sex until Ms. Perfect comes along."

Jimmy chuckled again, shook his head again.

"Wow," he said, "that's just my luck."

"What do you mean?

"The only woman in the whole world who understands me," he said, "and she has to be my baby sister."

We were silent for a few minutes, then I asked Jimmy what our parents' mood was like.

"Do you think they'll be glad to see me?" I asked.

"Well," he replied with a sigh, "I imagine Dad will be glad to see you. But to be honest, I don't think Mom's too happy about your coming to visit. She's still hung up on the 'immorality' of your job."

"That's about what I expected," I said. I wanted to ask him what he thought about my porn career, whether he thought it was immoral or not, but I was reluctant. Five years ago he'd beaten up Steve Denbrow, my boyfriend at the time, the one who'd popped my cherry.

"Oh, you know what?" Jimmy said as he guided the car to the Spring Street offramp. "I need to stop by my place for a minute before we go to Mom and Dad's. Is that okay, Trish?"

"Yeah, no problem," I said. "Believe me, I'm not in any hurry."

"Aw, it's gonna be alright, babe." Jimmy put his hand on my knee for a second. "You've got your big brother looking out for you."

"Thanks, Jimmy. You're a sweetheart."

We drove down Spring Street to Pacific Avenue, then down Pacific to Seventh. Jimmy parked near the corner and we got out and walked together into his apartment building. Jimmy held my hand and kind of led me along, as if I'd forgotten the way to his place. When we got to his door, though, he continued to hold my hand while he dug his keys out of his pocket, which I thought was odd but I didn't mind; I didn't have any weird urges or anything, but I still liked it when my brother held my hand.

Jimmy unlocked the door and we went inside, still hand in hand. He shut the door and pulled me along as we went into his bedroom.

"I just want to take care of something real quick," he told me. "Something I've actually been wanting to do for a long time."

We stopped at the side of his bed and I asked, "What is it you need to do?"

"This," Jimmy said, and he took my face in his hands and kissed me on the lips.

I probably should have been surprised but I wasn't, not really. I hadn't seen it coming, but I'd already had so much experience with guys just making passes at me like that, thinking it was okay because I worked in the sex trade, that it didn't seem so unusual that Jimmy would do the same thing. Of course, he was my brother, which should have disgusted me, but that didn't happen. I didn't get all turned on and start coming in my pants, but I wasn't grossed out, either; Jimmy was a relative, but I'd done it with lots of more repellant guys than him. Besides, I didn't expect things to go that far, even when he stuck his tongue in my mouth and started fondling my tits. I figured I'd let him get his jollies for a minute or two, then he'd back off and apologize, I would tell him it's okay, no biggie, what's a little frisky behavior between brother and sister?

Except he didn't back off, he graduated from caressing and squeezing me through my teeshirt to pulling up my shirt and taking my bare tits in his hands, ducking his head and kissing them.

"Jimmy," I said., "come on now, what are you doing?"

Jimmy didn't reply, he just kept kissing and fondling me, then took one of my nipples in his mouth. I tried to resist gently, not wanting to hurt his feelings, but he wouldn't stop. "Jimmy...."

I didn't know what else to say. He knew that what he was doing wasn't right, and telling him so wouldn't accomplish anything, but telling him to stop it wouldn't have done much, either. I should have tried to resist for real but I didn't. I just let him go on.

Jimmy continued to suck and fondle my tits for another minute, then brought his head back up and put his hands on my shoulders. He pressed down on them and I sat on the edge of the bed. He kept his eyes on mine as he undid the fly on his jeans.

Damn, I thought, he's going to try to fuck me. What the hell do I do now?

Jimmy's cock popped out at me and I was surprised to see how long and thick it was. I'd seen bigger cocks, of course, several of them, but still most of the ones I'd seen weren't that big. And, despite the circumstances and who he was, I decided his cock looked good. Long and smooth and hard as a rock.

"Okay, sis," JImmy said, his voice low and heated, "you know what to do. Just pretend you're making one of your movies."

I looked at Jimmy's cock, then back up at him, then back down at his cock. What the hell, I thought. I opened my mouth and leaned forward, slid my lips over the end of his cock. I took as much of it in as I could, until it touched the back of my throat, then slowly pulled back. Jimmy moaned and touched my hair. I moved my mouth back down on him, then pulled back again. I did this several times, my eyes closed and my mind on autopilot, just sucking and stroking while he either played with my ponytail or fondled my tits. I pulled his cock out of my mouth and licked the shaft and the head, looking up at him. Jimmy was watching me, his eyes half closed, his lips pressed tight together. I didn't want to consider what he might be thinking about me right then, whether he saw me as a nasty slut or the best sister in the world, but I kissed the end of his cock before I put it back in my mouth. I moaned a little as I sucked on him, knowing he would like that. I took my hands away and bobbed my head up and down, then took his cock out again and stroked it furiously while I looked up at him. I licked his balls, which made him moan again, then brought my mouth back down on him, taking almost all of it in. I slowly slid my lips and tongue along the length of him, then sucked and stroked him some more. I was just getting to that point where my jaw was going to start aching when Jimmy moaned in a way that told me he was close to orgasm. Time for the money shot.

I took his cock out and stroked him as I held my mouth open and my tongue out. I moved my fist slowly up and down his cock, then, just at the right moment, I squeezed it a little, just below the head, so that when he came he spurted. His come splashed on my face, in a line from my forehead down over my nose and lips. His second and third shots landed right on my tongue, then began to dribble. I held his cock against my lips and squeezed the last bit of come out, smeared it all around my mouth, spitting out the load on my tongue and letting it slop over my chin and down onto my tits. I stuck his cock back in my mouth and sucked on it for another half a minute, then Jimmy ended it by pulling away.

"Wow, Trish," he said as he put his cock back in his jeans, "that was great."

I cleared my throat, swallowed, then said, "I need to use your bathroom."

I got up and went into the bathroom, washed my face, my neck and tits, and brushed my teeth. When I was done I found Jimmy in the living room, sitting on his sofa and smoking. He had my teeshirt and he tossed it to me. I caught it and put it on. As I was tucking the end into my jeans Jimmy came over to me, took me in his arms, and kissed me. We looked at each other for a minute, then he took my hand and led me back out to his car. We didn't speak again until we were on the road.

"Hope you're not too mad at me," my brother told me.

"I'm not mad," I said. "Maybe kind of disappointed, though. I didn't really expect that."

"I'm sorry, Trish. It was something I've always wanted to do. For years now. And watching you in those movies, well, just made me want to do it even more." Jimmy looked at me. "Watching you with all those guys who don't even love you. Made me jealous, you know?"

I didn't reply, just looked out the window and watched the city pass by. After another minute I asked him, "What do you really think is gonna happen when we get to Mom and Dad's place?"

"Just what I said before, Trish. Mom will disapprove of you and Dad will be more than happy to see you. He'll probably want more than a blowjob, though. He's seen all your movies."

I nodded, still looking out the window.

"Yeah, no doubt," I said. "One of the pitfalls of being famous."

END

Famous Anus



She had always been a slut. A brazen slut at that. Even as a child she was flirting with older men, trying to get attention any way she could. Now she was 18 with curly, dark red hair and a perfect body.

She was five foot three with D cup tits and an ass that literally stopped traffic at times. It didn't hurt that she wore either lulu Lemon, skin tight, jazz pants just about every day with her G-string sticking out the sides. She usually had dark eye makeup, sparkly lip gloss and put her hair into pig tails.

She had let the entire football and wrestling team at her high school line up in the locker room and fuck her mouth before big games. She even rode on the bus with both teams to away games. There were rumors that the coach was in on the action. Her name was Kathryn, but to her adoring fans on the internet, she was Famous Anus.

Her most depraved lover was named Charles. He was the one who had developed her adult website and its niche market. 

Night and day Charles was hovering over her doing squats with free weights. 

"You want an ass like Kim Kardashian?" He would yell. "It starts here bitch!"

"Yes sir."

He now had her calling him sir. Or master. Or king. Occasionally even God, but that was usually reserved for when he had sunk his powerful phallus into her quivering butthole. 

He also had her on a liquid diet in order to facilitate the greatest frequency and ease of anal sex with her. She had long forgotten what intimacy felt like after years of every sexual encounter being filmed and sold online. 

When her bowels were overflowing with jism, as they usually were past noon, she would instruct her partners to fuck her ass, but finish on her face, tits or in her hair. This might sound odd, but Charles had figured out that hardly any pornstars would claim to want guys to cum in their hair, and since much of the point of pornography is to degrade women in new and interesting ways, it seemed the obvious choice.

It was Charles who then begrudgingly had to patiently shampoo and brush the dried semen out of her mop-top that night. More and more he began to despise this wanton skank. More and more he began noticing the smell cock on her breath and being too revolted to get a hard on from it. 

Kathryn was now just a way to make money to him. She still begged him from time to time to pound her shit-box with his donkey dick like he used to. Creative phrasing like this usually overpowered his higher level mental functions and tapped into an ancient part of male sexuality which responds to absolute depravity. 

Little conversation of much substance went on between the two of them for months until one night Kathryn was waiting for him to return home from work. There she was, sitting in a French maids costume on a chaise lounge surrounded by five muscular black men.

"Here he is boys" Kathryn cooed.

Charles was grabbed and propped up facing his former ward. 

"I'm leaving you and your baby dick Charles. Only these dumbass niggers can keep my asshole stretched the way I want- the way I need it."

"Bout time!"

"I figured you'd react this way. Your overinflated view of yourself is such that you'd never allow yourself to feel loss over a girl who acted as trampy as me. But the truth is you're going to miss me the second I walk out that door. I'm going to be the love of your life. The one who got away. And do you know how I know that? Because you've already sewn all your wild oats. You've fucked me and watched me fuck so many people and things that it all seems commonplace to you now. And so will every other relationship you have for the rest of your life by the way. Especially compared with what I'm about to do." She ended and her voice went up about three octives into a high/dumb bitch imitation.

"Hey girl" One of the black studs said.

"Hahaha, what?" She couldn't help herself. Charles had told her that men respond to giggly, flirtatious laughter and girls who appear to be naïve and stupid. 

"Easier to fuck 'em." Charles always said. 

Those words were now coming back to haunt him as this act ended with the darkies tongue visibly snaking its way down past her tonsils into her esophagus. Charles could even see a bulge in her neck which gave him an instant hardon. 

The two blacks holding him laughed at this and started punching him in the face and stomach. 

"That's right gangstas. Beat the shit out of that honkey sonovabitch. He can't please me the way your monkey fucks can."

Charles lay on the floor, crying in the fetal position watching the five niggers violently gangfuck his former prodige. 

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYY!!!!!" She screamed. Probably alerting the whole neighborhood of how badly her asshole hurt. Then a black cock was inserted in her mouth to muffle the noise.

"Mmmmmmmppppphhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnllllllll" She kept moaning jibberish into the cock in down her throat.

One of the blacks was in her pussy and the other two were getting stroked off into her face and hair. Soon she was completely covered in jigaboo smermatazoa. She panted and let out moans and fucked up requests under her breath.

"Breed me you dumb nigger bastards..." kept popping up even though this was impossible since Charles had paid for her tubes to be tied years ago. "I wanna fuck the cum out of your balls."

They all switched places, taking turns on each of her dirty holes in turn. Her eyes were shut from being covered in cum.

"Charles?" She asked "I can't see you and I don't really care to. But I just wanted to let you know that, in my humble opinion, you're going to hell. That may not seem like much coming from a cock-whore like me, but I felt like someone ought to tell you. Oh and when you realize how much this little show I've just put on turns you on, and you feel like coming back to me and trying to win me back.... Don't. I don't love you any more. I only love nigger meat, money, and drugs now. In fact, the only way I want to see you from now on, is if you ever feel like buying me jewelry and a sexy outfit for me to wear for my black boys, I guess I could model it for you in the store before I take it home."

With that a black stud led her over to where Charles lay on the floor, she squatted over his head and let loose a loud fart and simultaneously pissed and shit out several loads of darkie cum all over his bloody face.

When I came to I was incapable of producing any more tears. I screamed myself to sleep that night, knowing that deep down she was right. I was now obsessed with her using her asshole to make those blacks her slaves. It was the most erotic thing he had ever seen up until that point.

A week later he showed up at her new apartment. He carried a box of her old things she had left at his place. Otherwise he would've never gotten past her new boyfriends.

When he saw her he dropped the box and fell to his knees. He pleaded to her like she was a Goddess.

"Oh please let me live here. I'll do anything. I just need to keep watching you fuck these other guys. These better men than me, with bigger cocks. I'll cook, I'll clean, I don't need to participate. Just let me stay here, please."

She immediately erupted in evil laughter and I got the shit literally kicked out of me for twenty straight minutes. Without even a word of explanation of I was ejected from paradise into the dark alleyway.

Now all I have is a hard drive full of old videos of her. Oh and I can see her new exploits twice every month. Last I saw, her men had paid for her to have a complete plastic surgery package including ass implants, double FF completely fake looking tits with long bullet like nipples, giant fish lips, and vaginal sculpting. 

Now she is the only thing either mentally or physically that can possibly make me cum. I'm in hell. I'm alive but in constant suffering. I'm planning to kill myself in some grand way which will finally show her that I truly love her. Then again she would probably think of this as high comedy knowing her. My guess is she'll just fart shit and cum all over my fresh grave. 



Famous Blue Raincoat



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 housel 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 lay 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. 




Famous Blue Raincoat



"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 it's 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. ""ho 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."

Janes 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? 

* * * * *

Don't forget to vote! :) 



Famous Old Guy



For some reason, ever since Julie was eighteen she has liked to go to bed with older men. Not old men like in their fifties but older men like in their thirties. If you were to ask her why she wouldn't know and in fact she would tell you it wasn't true. The truth was Julie knew these old guys thought chicks in their twenties were hot and she always got a kick out of turning guys on. 

It was Saturday night and Julie was at Skybar for her very first time. This place had the strictest bouncer in town and it took a blowjob from both her and her friend Tiffany to get in. Julie thought it was fun but then the bouncer hadn't spluged in her face like he did to Tiff. As they walked in through the velvet ropes past all the losers she knew tonight would be special. 

She and Tiffany danced together close to the bar and Julie made sure that all the men at the bar got a good look up her little dress at her thong. After the number, they walked arm and arm up to the bar and she stood next to this old dude. He had long wavy hair and Julie could tell that when he was young he was hot. Of course, he bought her a drink, that's another thing she liked about old guys. He put his arm around her and then kissed her so she kissed him back.

"You're kinda cute, what's your name."

This seemed to piss the guy off,

"Don't you know who I am; I'm Joey Mother Fucking Lawrence."

"Can I just call you JMFL for short?"

This made the guy laugh and then they kissed some more.

"If you wanna fuck me it's OK but we have to come back cause my friend Tiff is here."

"Let's bring her along I do both of yous."

"I don't think so, she don't like old guys like I do."

Mr. Lawrence started to say something but just shrugged his shoulders instead. Once outside they climbed into his Bentley and drove to his house in the hills. Although old guys turned Julie on rich old guys really turned her on. As he steered the vehicle up Lookout Mountain Drive she snuggled up next to him so she could play with his peter. She unzipped his slacks to get at him and once she had him free, she leaned over and put him in her mouth. It was so hot to suck a man off as he drove, knowing he had to pay attention to what he was doing as she did everything in her power to drive him crazy. They arrived at his place before she could make him cum, so they went inside to finish the job.

The two went to his patio with a view of Hollywood and all the way down to the sea. She sat on his chaise to finish her BJ on him but he said he wanted to fuck her. She pushed him on the lounge and he pulled his pants down. Julie just loved thongs because all you had to do was move that tiny little piece of cloth to the side and there was your pussy ready for action. Lucky he was still wet from her hummer and he slipped right in. As for Julie, she just didn't have enough common sense to worry about safe sex but you would think Mr. Lawrence would be savvy enough to think about it; maybe he was just too drunk. She rode him hard and fast just as she liked it. She was happy it didn't take the old guy too long to cum; some of these old guys took forever. After, she went to the john to clean up and when she got back he was asleep.

She was bored, she called Tiffany but she didn't pick up and then just for the heck of it she called her older sister. She asked her if she had ever heard of some old guy named Joey Lawrence and all she said was, "Whoa."

"Rose what that's supposed to mean?"

"Julie that was his signature line, on his TV show he was always saying that."

"You mean all he had to say was whoa and they put him on TV?"

"Yeah but he was soo cool, all us girls were in love with him."

"Well I just fucked him so hard he's sleeping on his balcony."

"Get the fuck out, you're kidding me. God Julie, you're so lucky. You have to get me a souvenir, quick before he wakes, gets me something special."

She went to a room filled with pictures and mementos; over the fireplace, she saw a plaque that said Joey Lawrence was one of VHI hottest hotties of the nineties. She plucked it off the wall and put it in the big bag she carried everywhere she went. 

She went back to the patio just to find the old guy still asleep, but then she heard music coming from down the road. She said to herself what the hell and left Joey Lawrence's to go next door to investigate. She rang the doorbell and another old guy answered, he had curly hair. He looked duffy but still he was kinda cute, so she asked him his name and he said,

"Don't you know me I'm Screech, I mean Dustin Diamond."

"Well hey Dusty, you want to party."

She wondered if her sister Ruth knew who this old guy was.