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Department Store Romance (Loneiy x Alan)

The general gathering area of the club was in a teasing mood. That much was obvious. It happened sometimes - those that were simply sitting around, chatting or drinking found it amusing to mildly tease those that had vanished into the private rooms for obvious dalliance with someone other than their usual submissive or dominant. Usually, Mistress Juliette was immune to such teasing - most of the female dominants were terrified of her, and the submissives took their cues from their masters and mistresses. But today, as she left, simply putting her head into the room to say a polite goodbye, a chorus of catcalls and laughter greeted her. The members, all of whom were sensitive to such things, had picked something different in her tonight. A slight slippage of her mask of imperturbable cool. In fact, she was actually trembling.

The female dominants were usually unprepared to razz her. After all, she could freeze them with a glance or, if it came to it, challenge them to a fight. And few of them wanted to risk the humiliation of having to back down in front of the whole club, including their own submissives. And the ethics of the club would have regarded such teasing of a female as not quite the done thing.

But when Shea entered, his arm draped protectively around the blushing Elena, the room was in full hubbub.

"Did you see her?"

"She was shaking, for fuck's sake!"

"When Disalia sang 'Juliette and Chevvie, sitting in a tree...' she actually blushed!"

"I don't think there's any need for that," growled Shea, rounding on the last speaker, a tall, thin redhead dominant called Soft_Orchid. "How about showing some respect?" he continued, showing his stern side. Soft_Orchid opened her mouth to speak, and then realized that this was, after all, Shea, and that he wouldn't scruple to put her over his knee and give her a spanking in public. An occupational hazard for a disobedient subbie, but humiliation to the max for a dominant. She blushed bright crimson, conscious that Riza, her own girl, was witness to her being outfaced, and writhed in anger and embarrassment.

This had the effect of damping down the ebullience, so that when Chevvie entered, having cleaned up the room as ordered, he was left relatively unmolested, though certain submissives pressed him, in whispers, for details. Details that he steadfastly refused to vouchsafe.
 
Juliette gasped as she made it to her car and panted hard. She had never been outright disrespected at the club, but then again, no one had ever told her that they loved her. She gripped the wheel and started teh car and wiped her eyes a bit. She drove off to her lonely flat and thought all the time of Chevvie. Of her standing as a dominatrix. She swallowed harder and bit her lip. She knew she could take all the doms there hands down. She bit her lip.

Elena's eyes traveled all around and frwoned. She had never seen it buzzing. So alive. Usually the doms just laced around. Doing not a lot. She stepped forward with Shea and looked up when Shea barked his command. She held onto his arm and looekd around. Looking up, she saw Chevvie come in. He was the other part of this coin. But Elena remained close to Shea and then up to him.

"What do you think happened, master?" She whispered to him and looked up at him. She had never seen everyone like this.
 
"What I think happened, sweet one," whispered Shea into Elena's ear, is that Mistress Juliette - the one who is always in control of every situation - has, for once, found a situation she can't handle." He licked her ear, as he spoke, simply because he knew what it did to her. "I think your friend Chevvie has done something to her no other subbie ever has. Not that it was polite of her to draw attention to it, but Soft_Orchid was right. She was blushing like crazy.

"I think Mistress Juliette's in love!"

* * * * *

(Two hours later)

Though Shea's admonishing of Soft_Orchid had put slight constraint on the hilarity, it was soon forgotten, as the dominants and submissives continued to chew the fat far into the evening. Now and then, a dominant signalled to a submissive for a refill of drink, or to bring them something, or to accompany them into the private rooms.

Shea seemed to be impatient, looking at his watch, then returning to the conversation as if nothing had happened.

Finally, he consulted the watch a final time, and, without a word, picked up Elena, carrying her off to a private room.

"It's midnight," he whispered into her ear. "You know what that means, right, lovely one?"

* * * * *

(Three nights later)

It was the custom of the unattached submissives to hang around at the club during the day, waiting to see if there was any way they could make themselves useful. Though it wasn't compulsory, doing so a couple of days a month showed one's loyalty, and tended to advance progress. It was also a good way to hang with one's friends, discussing the masters and mistresses, exchanging gossip, and generally feeling part of a tribe. Plus, of course, there was always the chance a good looking dominant might wander in, feel "lonely", and seek out one of the subbies for a quick visit to a private room!

Chevvie tended to do his share of this, though he noticed that when he was around the others tended not to gossip about Mistress Juliette. He guessed this was in deference to him, though to do him credit he had not presumed on her selecting him a few nights before, and had not taken the opportunity to put on any airs.

However, since Mistress Juliette often had messages delivered to the club, he was on hand to carry a package of art supplies that arrived for her, over to her apartment. When one of the secretaries came into the common room with it, he noticed that all the others looked immediately at him. Someone with a thinner skin might have found it embarrassing - but Chevvie was simply excited that his name was so readily linked with hers.

Thus it was that ten minutes later, he found himself giving an account of himself to the concierge at Mistress Juliette's rented apartment, and a few minutes after that knocking slightly nervously on her door!
 
Elena smiled and then raised an eyebrow. She looked at the people around her and arched her back gasping as he licked her ear. She shivered and bit her lip and looked and saw Chevvie. She grinned. She was happy for Chevvie. Through her training, he was always the one that made her see what she was doing and what she could be. She nodded and looked up.

"I am happy for the both of them."

When midnight rolled around, Elena was slowly dozing. Her head resting on Sheas shoulder. She felt him picking her up and was sure that he was about to take her outside and to the car whre they would drive home. Looking up at him, she blushed realizing they were going where several doms took their subs. She was going to the private room. Holding him close, she smiled wider.

"I think I do...but." THe hives began to build up. "Shouldn't I use the bathroom before we do this?" SHe blushed harder hating to admit it. But she would hate to get into the middle of something with Shea and piss all over him. Elena's heart was beating hard and fast in her chest. She blushed and grinned wider.

****

Chevvie had delivered things to her apartment before. The key was always under the dormat. Inside, Juliette was listening to music. She looked a lot different than how everyone at the club always saw her. She was dressed in jeans and a white tank top. She was painting a picture. It was a very beautiful picture of a woman that was naked surrounded by tropical birds. It was a very large painting.

Juliettes hair was pulled back in a severe bun and her pants and body were covered in paint and she was singing along to her music. The music wouldn't be heard on the outside because, she was wearing head phones. She looked over the picture of the woman and noticed that the colors had seperated a bit to show someone with the visage almost like Chevvies int eh back. Moving she began to color in the face.
 
Shea was a hard man, but he was capable of great sympathy and tenderness. Especially when the person who needed such consideration was the girl with whom he was fast falling in love. He cursed himself for forgetting that, having been almost asleep, Elena would need to make one of her frequent bathroom visits. Had he been more awake to her needs, he would have found some discreet excuse to leave her alone, with an instruction to meet him in the specified private room in ten minutes. Thanks to his clumsiness, the girl who depended upon him for her emotional confidence had been forced to endure the humiliation of having to ask for a bathroom break, like a small girl. Her blush told a vivid story.

"Of course, sweet creature mine," he smiled. "I really need to go, too," which he didn't, his own bladder being cast-iron, but he'd said it in order to try to lessen her obvious embarrassment. "Meet me in room 14 at your leisure."

Then he kissed her softly, and took his leave.

*****

At first, when he entered, Chevvie wondered why Mistress Juliette did not acknowledged his greeting. This mystery soon vanished when he saw the phones on her ears, only to be replaced by another. Even from the view he had of her, only the back of her head and a small fraction of cheek being visible, he could see that suddenly, out of nowhere, she had started to blush. The subject of her painting was a nude woman, but surely that couldn't be the cause... Mistress Juliette was, after all, a member of the club, where such modesty was hardly normal. Except of course for Master Shea's new girl, T'mewi... which reminded him that Shea had carried his new girl off to the pleasure rooms the night before, and had not emerged until everyone else had left! Lucky girl!

So anyway, why was Mistress Juliette so embarrassed about her own painting. And then, after studying it, without her knowing he was there, his jaw dropped, and his eyes widened. Like most people, even the vainest, he was slower to recognize his own likeness than others, for the rest of the world saw his face all the time, and he saw it only when he looked in a mirror or studied a photograph of himself.

This was flattery indeed!

He continued to study Mistress Juliette from behind. Her perfect, Amazonian figure, the long legs, the hair, drawn back today into a bun, but still sexy. The white tank top she was wearing had rucked up into a series of horizontal folds, the tail hanging out of the waist of her jeans, and the effect was at once sexy and endearing, for it defined her body perfectly, yet cried out that she needed someone to look after her, attend to her attire. As did the bra-strap that had half-slipped down her left shoulder, wyhich also begged someone who adored her to replace it.

She needed, in short, a loving submissive.

He turned his back and put the parcel down on a bench against the wall nearest the door, doing it as noisily as possible, and kept his back to her as he straightened it to be perfectly parallel with the sides of the bench, considerately giving her a chance to compose herself.
 
Elena blushed and kissed his cheek adn turned running to the bathroom to pee and made sure everything on her was fine. Moving forward, she walked out trembling and made it to the room 14. She shivered and walked in with her head down showing respect and clenched her trembling hands in front of her.

****

Juliette jerked hearing the loud thud and looked up. Seeing Chevvie, she righted herself, and her painting propping it up in a corner to dry, she looked over at the box. She bit her lip adn looked over his frame. He was at the club, he had come over just to deliver her package. But she never let the dominatrix act fall. Pulling her headphones off so they were around her neck. Looking at him, she raised her chin in her proud way she was known for,

"Pet, go and get me a wet washcloth." She said and looked at him. She only called him a pet in her house. She blushed always happy when he was there. She was aroused anyway. She left the parcel by her couch. Moving forward, she moved to her bed and sat back on her large lonely bed and waited for him canting her head.
 
Like most of the dominants at the club, Shea was a highly experienced lover. But even in his wide history, there was a certain gap.
He had had sex with many people - but not too many as inexperienced as Elena. In fact, as far as he knew, she was actually a virgin. A species very rare in the circles wherein he moved. The way she walked into the room confirmed it. Submissives had to act humbly in public, but most tended to be more confident when alone with their dominants - not T'mewi. Of course, her hesitation could have been embarrassment, at the way her skin had broken out, into bright red blotches and hives, or having to excuse herself to visit the bathroom, but he guessed there was more. The way she was looking down at the floor, her bright red blush... he resolved to treat her as gently as he could, not his strong point, but she was special enough to make an exception.

Softly, he ordered her to strip off her leotard and tights.

* * * * *

Chevvie knew that Mistress Juliette had sent him to fetch a washcloth for more than one reason. There was the obvious one, of course - she had become covered with paint, and needed to clean up - but he guessed there was more. She had been caught by surprise, and she knew he'd seen his likeness in the picture. No dominant, even one with as fearsome a reputation as Mistress Juliette, could be seen to be caught by surprise and out of control without losing face. He could see she'd been blushing, and he knew that when that started, her very embarrassment at the blush itself always started a viscous circle, and the blush would get progressively worse.

So he took his time, and when he returned, with the washcloth, a towel, and a bowl of water, she'd managed to get herself together a little. Without being asked, he began to sponge her, drawing the washer over her pretty face with firm but gentle strokes, deliberately starting with cool water to try and lessen the blush in her face, then moving down her neckline. When he reached her breasts, he started to take longer than cleanliness really demanded, lingering over her perfect globes, rubbing around her nipples. He found himself totally horny, but there was more. As if he wanted to love her as well as make love to her. As if he wanted to be hers.
 
Elena looked up at him and blushed. Hearing his order, she nodded softly. "Yes master." SHe began to take off her leotards and tights. Now totally naked before him. Folding her hands in front of her, she looked down. Her heart was racing. Tonight would be the first night shewas touched and loved by a man. The first time.

She knew that there was going to be pain, but she would not cry for him to stop. She would hold him tight and revel in every little touch and embrace. Biting her lip, she looked up at him covered in hives and want.

****

Mistress Juliette was still clothed by the time that Chevvie came to her. She held out her hands, but he didn't clean that up first, he just washed her face. Shutting her eyes, she growled shaking her head a bit. She wore no make up in the day time. It felt nice to have him wash her face, but then it started getting wierd when his hands got down to her breasts. She still wore a white shirt and a black bra underneath. Once wetted, the shirt clung to her top. Gigglign, she took the washcloth and shook her head.

"Chevvie, your mind is elsewhere. Maybe you should go find it." She was always hard to get. She tried more than most with Chevvie though. Reaching out, she grabbed the bowl and stood up with her wet top. Walking as if she were a queen. She put the washcloth away in the hamper after washing her hands off. Pouring the bowl out, she walked past him and smiled gently.

Sitting on her couch, she grabbed the parcel and opened it. It was a special collar. One she had bought in Milan. She ran her thumb along the thick material. It was to be Chevvies, but she had to work up the courage to collar him. An ultimate sign of love and adoration that a master could give a slave. But she quickly shoved it back into the box and moved into the kitchen to make a lunch time snack.
 
It was a totally new experience for Shea, and he was not sure if T'Mewi even realized it. He had had experience with many girls, of all ages and levels of experience, from many walks of life - yet, never before, with anyone quite like Elena/T'Mewi. Other girls with stunning figures like hers delighted in their nakedness, yet T'Mewi seemed almost ashamed, as if her body was not up to standard. He could see how nervous she was, for she was not a girl who could hide such things - if her downward glance was not enough, the poor girl's skin always betrayed her, breaking out in hives, or in a deep blush. She was, he knew now for sure, the thing that all dominants seek and so rarely find - a genuine, natural submissive. It must, he thought, have been so hard for her, going through life being victimized by everyone, not even realizing why she could never find the courage to stand up for herself.

yet this made him love her more, not less, he reflected, as he motioned her towards him, took both of her hands and glided them to his gigantic, erect, shaft. He watched her blush double in intensity as he drew her face up towards him with his other hand, kissing her softly... a difficult act of restraint, when every part of him screamed out to take her forcefully, drive her against the wall, drive deep into her, relishing her pain and submission.

Instead, he took it slowly, a small patch of skin at a time, sending kisses and licks down her chin, through the valley between her breasts, stroking every part of her body, her arms, her neck, her ears... leaving her in no doubt she was loved and cherished, revered. It took a while, longer than he had ever taken before, but eventually he felt she was ready, wet and ready...

He gently inserted an exploratory finger into her sex, liking what he felt, like soft, embracing honey. And then, he lifted her, carried her over to the couch, feeling her naked form relax in his arms. And he asked her the question he never had before in such circumstances - but which he knew she deserved.

"Are you ready, my love?"

* * * * *

At first, Chevvie was disappointed in the extreme when Mistress Juliette walked away. It was always difficult to know how to react to her. Most submissives, he knew, simply deferred to her totally, treating her like a goddess. Many were frightened of her. He was one of the few perceptive enough to know that underneath her Amazonian appearance and seeming total self-confidence, there was a frightened, shy girl, as needy as any submissive.

He wondered if he had gone too far. Should he apologize? Was she testing him?

In the end he decided on what is usually the best policy in such circumstances. He calmed his mind, sat cross-legged on the floor, and waited. He would wait until she emerged, and take his cue from her demeanor when she did.

But it wasn't easy. He knew he had to get this one just right - for, he now saw, he loved Mistress Juliette more than he had ever loved any woman. If he could not be hers, he would never settle for second best. It was just not in his nature.
 
Elena was covered in hives and a blush. She bit her lip looking down, standing there for what seemed like forever. But for Shea, she would do so much worse for longer. She bit her lip harder and when he took her hands, she blushed as they were met with his hard, hot, cock. She blushed adn felt her hands tremble as they wrapped around him, her fingers stroking and touching him ever so gently. Looking up, she opened her eyes and returned his kiss. That soft kiss made her instantly realize hat she would do anything for him.

Standing there, she groaned softly as he kissed down her body every square inch of her. She blushed and looked at him and sighed gently. She was not even aware of how aroused she was until he plunged two fingers into her and she threw her head back feeling her walls grip and clutch around him. Her honey collecting on his fingers and she arched her back groaning softly. When she was laid on the couch, she stretched out and looked at him.

"Yes my love, I am ready for you. I submit totally to your will and desires." She purred to him and reached out her arms gently.

******

Juliette walked in with a sandwich and some vegetable sticks. She put the plate on the bed and moved to her closet, tossing her now semi-dry clothes into the hamper. She pulled on a long geisha robe and moved back to her bed and just reclined there as she ate her vegetable sticks watching him. Chevvie had broken the rules in just acting and running a wet sponge over her clothed body. Juliette wasn't sure hwo to respond. She knew how she would respond to any other slave, but Chevvie was different and she knew that he knew things about here.

Chevvie and her were very close. She watched him and picked up a carrot stick and flicked it at him watching it hit his face and bounce off. She giggled a bit and then put the plate to the side.

"Chevvie, go get me some wine." She said and watched him.
 
Right now, Shea was so hard, so horny, he could have driven into her like a pile-driver, fucking her so hard she could have fainted. It had happened that way with other submissives before. But to treat T'mewi this way would be to tear her apart, both physically and - even more importantly - mentally.

Instead, he forced himself to hold back, laying her down gently on the couch, licking and kissing all over her body, carpeting her with love and affection. It was the ultimate expression of strength. He was so physically powerful, and she was so frail, he did not even have to demonstrate how much stronger he was than her. He continued to massage her clit, feeling her become wetter and wetter, feeling her desire rise, watching her pupils dilate, sweat break out on her body, her mouth open, her breathing becoming heavier and heavier.

And then, finally, he entered her, gently, but inexorably... it would hurt, he knew it would hurt, but he tried his best to minimize that pain, teasing gently at the entrance to her cave, the huge knob of his engorged shaft sliding in, half an inch at a time, withdrawing, and entering again, each time sliding further in, holding her close to him, allowing her to grip his muscular arms with her pitifully weak grip, smiling at her reassuringly every time she winced with the agony of the irreversible change to her innocence, gradually building up to a firmer force, maintaining that one prerequisite without which any dominant is nothing - control!

And soon, he was rewarded, for he was fully inside her, feeling the slight friction as blood mingled with their juices, sliding gently, but increasing his pace and thrust, knowing that soon her pain would subside. She was truly his. And, in a different way, he was now truly hers. neither of them spoke, but both knew it was so.

*****

Chevvie was glad to serve Mistress Juliette. In fact, he received his orders with a sense of relief. The essence of Mistress Juliette was her control and dominance - without it, she was - not nothing, for a woman of her intelligence and power could never be that - but considerably lessened, as if a vital part of her identity was stripped away. He got to his feet immediately, replied with a subdued "Yes, Mistress" and almost fancied he could see the gratitude in her eyes, that he was playing this game. The game of pretense that the need was all one way, that she was indifferent to him.

Returning with the wine - a top quality Hock, in a chilled bucket - he set it down, with just a single flute, also chilled. He bowed to her, lifted the bottle, and poured, nodding his head to her showing his gratitude she had chosen him to perform this service. Then he set down the bottle, and adopted a truly slave position, on all fours, not even looking at her. The geisha robe was perfectly modest - it covered all of her legs, and her magnificent breasts - yet by kneeling in this way, he could - and he swore to himself it was not deliberate - see right down the neck of it, giving him a sight of the globe of one breast. Suddenly, he saw a way to atone for his previous impertinence. With a brief "with your permission, Mistress?" he adjusted the neckline of the robe, so that her full breast was covered, both withdrawing temptation to stare for himself, and any embarrassment her mild accidental display might have caused. Then he went back to his keeling position, awaiting her orders.
 
Elena moaned softly feeling him kiss and lick. Holding his head, she blushed as he began to stroke her clit. Wrapping ehr legs around him, she began to moan louder and louder. Her blood pressure was raising and soon her moans became just harsh breaths. She whimpered feeling him stretch her. Shifting, she gripped onto his back whimpering. Shutting her eyes tightly, she felt tears of pain spring into the corners of her eyes. She didn't want him to stop, but was it supposed to hurt so much. She blushed every time he withdrew thinking he was embarrased teh amount he was hurting her, but only felt him push in and she arched her hips whimpering feeling him stretch her a little bit more.

After what seemed like forever, the pain began to eb and her walls began to constrict and grip his member as it was deep inside of her. She groaned softly as he began to move. Wrapping her legs tighter around him, she held him tightly pressing her face against his neck and groaned softly to him.

******

Juliette watched the fine ass of Chevvie as he walked to teh kitchen. With a grin, she crossed her legs and continued to watch him. When he came back, she held her handout with the glass and took a drink appreciatively. Se began to eat but looked up as he grabbed the side of her robe and pulled it closed. He had asked for permission, but Juliette looked at him and canted her head a bit.

"Does my body not please my slave?" She looked at him. She continued to eat her lunch and every so often drank a bit of her wine. When she was done, she moved the plate to teh side and peaked out a leg as she remained on her side taking him in. She grinned stretching her toe out and ran it up and down his side as she continued to watch him.

"Tell me Chevvie, where do you live?" She said. She had never really knew where he lived. It was a curious topic and one she never really cared about until now. She flicked her brown hair and ebgan to ran her hand through it as her leg was now visible up to the thigh but didn't show off anything else.
 
Now, Shea knew, she had passed the singularity. She was still suffering pain - that couldn't be helped - but he could feel Elena relaxing, starting to enjoy having him inside her, instead of feeling nothing but agony. He could feel her nervousness, too - and that she was wondering if she was letting him down by being so hesitant - so, instead of the usual totally dominant control he usually exercised, he spoke soft words to her, telling her how good she was, reassuring her, making sure he took things slowly. It was agonizing to have to control himself so much, when he was used to driving in hard and fast, but somehow he felt it was just as enjoyable, like a new way of looking at sex.

"You're fantastic," he whispered in her ear. "Beautiful, beautiful girl."

But though he was holding himself back, he was what he was. His hard body, and even harder penis were extensions of his very being. He was so much stronger than her that her frail body felt totally submissive to him. As he increased his strokes, becoming faster, using more power, he could tell she was still scared. His earlier conclusion - that she was a total natural submissive - was being confirmed. She was so weak, so defenseless, that anyone could use her as he was doing, and she would be powerless to protect herself.

He swore at that moment that he would protect and cherish her as much as any dominant ever cherished his girl. And with that thought, he felt power and electricity rise in him, and he continued to thrust into her, feeling her sweaty body grip him with an intensity that matched his own.

*****

"Your body, Ma'am?" echoed Chevvie, taken off-balance by her question. "Ma'am, it pleases me very much. It's the most beautiful body I've ever seen. But... " He stopped, wondering how he might phrase it. "Well, when you reveal it to me by choice, and consciously, it is one of the most delightful sights I ever experience. But I sensed that pretty robe you're wearing had slipped down, and you might not be aware of what you were revealing. So, in an attempt to show the respect due to one of your status, I sought to prevent future embarrassment to you, by straightening it for you."

He replenished her glass.

"Where do I live, Ma'am?" This was the one question he had been hoping she wouldn't ask. But there was no way he could lie to her. No way at all.

"I sleep at the Club, Ma'am. It's my life. It means all to me."

He hadn't missed the phrase she'd used, "MY slave." Whether it had been calculated or otherwise, the simple implications of those two words were making his heart beat so fast he felt faint!
 
Elena panted gripping him tightly, her nails digging into his back as she groaned her pleasure. Him whispering and giving her what she needed. She blushed looking up at the ceiling as he told her so many beautiful things. She grunted however every time he thrust in. She was beginning to like this so very much. Sure, she was scared and hives made her body itch, but for the first time in her life, she felt close to being a woman. She panted and groaned kissing his lips and shoulders all the while gripping him with everything her body had. Every muscle was focused on constricting around him.

"Master, thank you, thank you so much, by the fae, I promise to do whatever you ask of me whenever and adore you and cherish you as my dominant, sire, and master." She whispered into his ear, giving the pledge that T'mewi gave to her master at the moment of him taking her virginity. She rubbed her face against his and sighed softly groaning to him. She felt so close to the plateau, she didn't know what that entailed, but she was sure she would be safe as long as she was in his arms.

*******

Juliette watched Chevvie and canted her head and smiled. "Do you think that I get embarrassed of my body or I should be so?" She was toying with him. Juliette was never ashamed of her body and everything she did she was always aware of it. She smiled as he refilled her glass and looked at him and canted her head.

"You live at the club Chevvie? But only slaves who have no hope to be claimed live at the club." She stood up, her robe was gaping all the way down to her navel and she walked past him making sure an edge of the robe fluttered over his face so he could get the smell of her skin. Today it was amber. Walking to her couch, she reclined like a big house cat lounging in the sun. Rolling her hips to the side, she drank another sip of her wine and put it away and watched him with a wide smile on his face. "Do you feel you will never be claimed?" She propped her head up and looked at him.
 
Now Shea was totally in control. T'Mewi may have been inexperienced, but it seemed there was an instinct in her. She had somehow worked through her pain, so that while it was still present, she seemed to be able to ignore and accept it. She was as tight as he had ever known a woman, her vagina was gripping him with an ecstatic clutch. He could tell how frightened she was, by her shaking, and the fact that the hives had now broken out all over her body. He was glad there was no mirror in this room, for he was never going to tell her, and hoped that she wouldn't know, for the poor girl's self-esteem was low enough already. But the way she was molding her body to his told him that the two of them were destined to be together, sexually perfectly compatible as well as emotionally.

He increased his thrusts, treating her like a normal woman now, feeling her wetness (still with the faint friction caused from the blood) envelope his shaft. If she noticed his switch from gentleness to a much harder, stronger stroke, she seemed able to deal with it, for her enthusiastic response did not lessen. He could feel her body arching and stretching, that familiar tightness that meant she was on the path to release, perhaps the first time she had ever felt such in her life - and, certainly, the first time at the control of another person. So tight was she that he could feel the movement of her clit, feel it contracting and shrinking, knowing what that portended.

* * * * *

Do you feel you will never be claimed

To answer her question, Chevvie sat, cross-legged, facing away from her, addressing his remarks to the wall. There were certain emotions he didn't wish her to see. If she ordered him to turn and face her, he'd do so, otherwise he'd stay as he was.

"The thing is, Ma'am," he said, gently, "Well, to state the obvious - I am different from other men, and other submissives.

"Forming a bond is hard enough for a male submissive. The idea of a dominant is, ipso-facto, that they should be able to... well, obviously, dominate their slaves and submissives. For a man, it's often easy to dominate a female. Even with a same-sex pairing, it can be done - a strong man and a weaker one, a strong woman and a weaker one.

"But for me... I'm a man and a woman. And a strong man at that. Few men would be able to dominate me, and in any case, though I'm a... let's face it, an hermaphrodite... I identify as a man." He stroked his bicep. "With this body I can't really be a female, you see. I can have sex with a male, but few could dominate me... maybe a few, like Master Shea, but he's not interested in sex with me, though he's always treated me most respectfully.

"With women, the situation is hopeless. To be frank, Ma'am, many women have asked to claim me, and none of them can truly be my dominant. I am far stronger than most women, and most that ask soon come to realize this. It would be humiliating for most dominants to have to deal with a submissive so much stronger than themselves, knowing I was only pretending to be weaker."

"And... " And, here, was the reason he had turned to face away from her. "Well, Ma'am, though I have been tempted by some of the women that have asked... there is only one in the club I have ever met to whom I could truly submit. I might even say I love her. Anything else could only be a poor second best. And so, when they have asked - such as Mistress Panther, Mistress Honey_Bee, Mistress Butterfly... I have always declined. because they are not y- er... they are not her, whom I love. And I won't give my gift to anyone else."
 
Elena panted adn groaned softl feeling him spread her so wide, but a part of her was enjoyig i so compltl. Reveling in his touch and his grasp. She panted and leaned her head back and grunted softly. But then soon, she shifted adn whimpered. She curled her toes not sure what was happening. She arched her back and grunted and leaned her head up and moaned to him and shivered.

"Oh, oh master, something is happening. Something is happening." She whispered and blushed and gripped him and shut her eyes and moaned panting harder and harder and louder and louder.

*****

"Slave," she warned. "Turn to me when you talk to me." She looked at him and frowned. Somethign was wrong with him. She took his hand and pulled him so he was facing her and she watched him. She stroked his arm gently trying to encourage him.

She listened to him and smiled. Standing up, she moved to the living room and soon came back with a box. She set the box on the side of the bed and reached out with her legs and pulled him close so he could see her stubbled pussy and she stroked his face with her hadns and smiled looking at him. She knew what he meant. She sighed.

"Go to my bathroom, get my straight razor and I want you to shave my pussy the way I like. Then I want you to grab the edible cream and rub it on and then eat it out of my pussy." She whispered and kissed her forehead. She had allowed Chevvie to watch how she liked to be shaved several times, but he never really got the pleasure. She smiled and tapped his shoulder.
 
As Elena wailed, her pleasure and distress evident in equal measure, Shea gently touched his finger to her lips, while still pounding hard into her.

"It's fine, lovely one. It's meant to happen. Go with it. let it flow."

He held her tight, still driving hard, controlling her, letting the wave of her orgasm build.

"Shh. Take your time. You're mine, for ever. let it happen, my sweet... "

* * * * *

Chevvie stood, his hands behind his back, meeting Mistress Juliette's eyes with his own.

"Ma'am, there is another thing that needs to be said," he half-whispered. He continued to look at her, the adoration in his gaze obvious - but there was something else mixed in there as well. He was almost biting off his words, as if angered.

"You know, Mistress Juliette, how much I adore you. And I won't seek to hide it, my dream is to be yours. There is no other Mistress to whom I will submit. But there is this."

He paused, marshaling his emotions.

"True, I am a submissive. But with respect, Ma'am, I am not your submissive. A true dominant gives respect to submissives and slaves... and it's even more important that they respect them than respecting other dominants. An order, such as you gave me... 'Go to my bathroom', and 'I want you to,' Ma'am - they don't show that respect. If you have contempt for me, if you can't speak politely to me, even when making your requests known - please, tell me now. I shall, of course, vacate your residence if that is the case."

He stood, defiantly awaiting her answer.
 
Elena panted and groaned. She leaned her head back adn panted letting the sensation build driving her higher and higher. She shut her eyes and groaned and panted. She wrapped her legs around him and then leaned her head back and howled in pleasure and squirted over him and panted blushing leaning back. She held him tighter and watched him.

*********

"Yes Chevvie?" She looked up at him as he looked looked at her. Something was wrong. Reaching out, she stroked his hand yearning to take his hand, but happy to stroke his arm. She listened to him and frowned. Standing up, she then looked at him and down and away and bit her lip.

"Chevvie, how is it that the orders that I give you now are the same as when we first met, and yet you did not have a problem with them then." She felt so naked and exposed as he told her. She respected all submissives, she looked dwon and away and then swallowed. She sighed and looked back at him and then into his eyes, she was sorry he thought that she did not respect him but she swallowed.

"Very well, I think that I need to be alone now. Thank you for your help Chevvie." She whispered and walked back to her living room taking her glass of wine with her and disappeared into a room that she never showed anyone closing the door. Walking into her play room that she never let anyone into, she leaned back against the wall and sank down against it after making sure the door was locked. Every time she felt the need to play, she usually did it at the club. She raised her hands to her face adn leaned forward adn shut her eyes tighter.

Tears began to roll down her face as she pulled her knees to her chest and bit her lip harder. She had never felt this exposed and terrible. Maybe it was a time to move on. Leave everythign behind, somehow find a way to leave him behind. She leaned her head back and swallowed hard as tears continued to roll down her face.
 
Shea held Elena even more tightly, as she let go. He could feel the explosion inside her, guessing it was her first, feeling privileged to be the one that had caused it. As she subsided, he could hold himself back no longer, and let go himself, spurting into her with the force of a fire hose, his hard, muscular body sliding across her soft yielding flesh, so drenched with sweat were they.

He held her for a long time afterwards, wiping away her tears, stroking her hair, kissing her, reassuring her how well she'd done. After ten minutes or so, he felt ready to show her some less conventional ways of loving. She and he had been the beast with two backs, but in the course of that night, Elena learned that there were other ways that two people might show their love for each other physically.

It was close to midday when he finally took her hand and, both of them exhausted, led her from the room.

(Split-time narrative now ended. Shea and Elena's story is again concurrent with that of Chevvie and Mistress Juliette)

* * * * *

Chevvie spent the rest of that day in his suite of rooms on the top floor of the club's building. Unlike his normal practice, he did not come down to help in any of the day to day chores that needed doing, nor did he front up to the nightly partying.

Many, upon hearing of his actions, might have concluded that he was upset at the coldness that had developed between himself and Mistress Juliette, but this was far from the case. Much as he adored her, he needed his self-respect more. With the sensitivity that came naturally to a true submissive, he was hyper-aware of slights, even unintended ones. And given his physical peculiarities, he'd long age developed a self-reliance that required no-one's company.

What he did need, though, was a time for reflection. He spent a few days in the routine he normally adopted during his retreats from the world. Rising late, cooking himself an elaborate breakfast (kedgeree, devilled mushrooms or herb omelette), exercising for an hour or two on the all-purpose porta-gym he kept in his rooms, checking his email and such, then watching DVDs or reading until well after darkness. He was tempted to go down, but realized that his volunr\tary exiles from the world only achieved their aim - that of refreshing him and clearing his psyche - if he kept to himself as much as possible.

He did wonder if Mistress Juliette had turned up at the club, and what state she might be in. He concluded that she probably had put him right out of her head. After all, she was never short of company, submissive or dominant. He doubted she'd even given her adoring, yet prickly little transsexual a thought.
 
Elena gasped digging her nails in feeling him shoot her full of his seed. She shut her eyes and groaned feeling his warmth push inside of her almost as if it was seeking to light her up from within. She shut her eyes and blushed thinking she had to orgasm again, but this one was much more milder. How odd.

As he smiled and looked at her, she felt her heart leap. She leaned into his arms and shut her eyes gently and whisper in her ear how well she did. She loved him so completely. She then thought about how she fell in love first with his books, but then she fell in love with the man. As he was showing her all the different ways to make love, she had squirted but then that mild orgasm began to build again. She panted and looked up and blushed as she started to piss herself while he was in her. With a blush, her hives rippled over her body. Groaning she leaned her head forward and blushed. But maybe he wouldn't know, becuase he didn't say anything.

As they got up and exited, she was sure that he hadn't noticed. She walked arm and arm with him adn snuggled into his arms and sighed softly blushing.

***********

Juliette moved back to bed when she was sure he left. She curled up on her side. Reaching out, she flipped a switch that caused all of the blinds in the whole apartment to drop. She curled up in teh darkness and began to wail. Why did she come back? Why? Because of him. Juliette needed Chevvie. No, she didn't. She fell asleep playing a hard game of tug of war.

Late the next morning, she dressed in some sweats and a tank top. Walking out of the apartment, she shrugged on a jacket without brushing or doing her make up. She moved out to the graveyard. She moved to a tombstone and sat down adn tears rolled down her face and whimperd softly. Rubbing her face, shsse looked at the tombstone of her master. She laid there curling against the tombstone. Shutting her eyes, she pressed her temple against the head stone. She continued this routine bt after about two days, she just stayed home weak and alone. She would move, she finally agreed.

Juliette didn't appear at all the next few nights. News of her moving was heard and the club was confused. She just moved here. What was more, she didn't ask for the slaves of the club to help her move. There were rumors running abundant. Some were saying that Juliette was pregnant, some were saying she was sick with cancer, others said she had a master. The slaves just continued to talk and chat amongst themselves.
 
(Three days later)

Shea had been busy with book signings and other promotional work, and Elena had accompanied him, so the two of them had not visited the club for a few days. Shea was finding that having Elena around delighted him more than he would ever have guessed. In fact, he had to admit to himself, he had never owned a submissive that had pleased him more. She continued, of course, to be shy. Every time he complimented her, or even looked at her for a few seconds, she would blush beet red, and in the evenings he had learned not to go into the bathroom when she retired there just before bed, knowing she would be rubbing her body with her hive-ointment, and knowing the humiliation it would cause her if he caught her administering it. Now and then, she would get up from whatever they happened to be doing, either in his lounge, or on the bed, or out somewhere, and hurtle away with frantic speed, and return a few minutes later blushing like crazy, so presumably her over-active bladder was still troubling her, though she managed not to disgrace herself once.

So now they were back at the club, Shea dressed in designer jeans and a tight black tank, over which he wore his favorite leather jacket, and Elena/T'mewi in a pale blue sheathe dress, expensive black pantyhose and suede heels he'd picked out for her. As usual she was looking nervously around, not really relaxing until she encountered the people she knew.

Shea, though, found a worry niggling at him, and the snatches of conversation he heard did not make him feel any better. There was rumor in the air. Neither Chevvie, nor Mistress Juliette had been seen since the night Shea had initiated T'mewi. Shea knew that Chevvie often vanished for days at a time, but what he was hearing about Juliette worried him. Normal practice would be sto send one's subbie nosing around to pick up the gossip, but T'mewi's bladder was being particularly difficult that day, which would have handicapped her in that role. So he resorted to asking around the submissives himself. All of whom proved quite respectful, but none of whom could throw any light on the matter.

He dismissed all the rumors. Juliette was far too careful to get knocked up. If she had any disease, there would have been symptoms before it was bad enough that she couldn't leave the house. And he knew there was no way she would suddenly take a master out of the blue - and even if she had, that would have made her more likely to attend the club, not less!

*****

Chevvie's period of voluntary exile happened to come to an end the very night that Shea and T'mewi returned. It always happened this way. One morning, he'd wake up and know totally that he was feeling OK again, and ready to face the world. He took a shower, shaved off the beard he'd allowed to grow, dressed in his sharpest suit, and wandered down to the public area. Naturally, he was greeted with joy by the other members, including Shea.

But then, Shea drew him aside, and pressed a piece of crumpled paper into his hand.

"I have a task for you, Chevvie, if you would be so kind."

He explained his worries about Mistress Juliette, and his puzzlement as to what might have happened to her. And ordered Chevvie, the next day, to go to her apartment and inquire as to her situation. Never had Chevvie felt less like obeying a directive from a master... but he knew that if he failed, he'd never be able to live with himself. More than anything, he hated thinking of himself as a coward.

And so, the next morning, he found himself knocking on Mistress Juliette's door, carrying out Shea's orders, little though he relished it.
 
Elena was having the time of her life. At his book signings and editorial meetings about his next book, she was always under the table between his legs rereading his books, her signed copies of course, and writing notes on post its and questions that had yet to be answered. Every so often, she would reach up and stroke the underside of his thigh or something that reminded him how much she loved him and how much she was thinking of him.

Elena still had her hive problem, asthma, and bladder, but it was strange because Shea didn't even seem to care. He would just smile or say something complimentary and kiss her. She laid awake several nights, after making a midnight run to the bathroom, about how much she was lucky to meet him. On such rare occassions, she would kiss down between his legs and begin to suck him off. Sure she was covered in hives and a deep blush that made her look like she was sun burned, but she always had the blanket over her. She was obsessed.

When they went to the club, Elena smiled snuggling into Shea. But something felt off inside, it was like either the female dominants were agitated or the submissives were whispering about something. She blushed adn kissed Shea on the cheek and took off for a bathroom. As she was sitting, she heard two dominants talk about how Juliette was leaving. She frowned, hadn't she just got there. Looking down, she finished and flushed and walked to wash her hands and moved back to Shea's side. She saw Chevvie and moved forward hugging him and greeting him in the proper fashion of two subbies.

"Chevvie you are looking wonderful like always." She said with a blush and looked at him. She moved back to Shea's side and watched them talk. She saw the paper and looked at Shea questioningly. "What was in the paper?" She whispered. She curled her arms around him and was curious indeed.

*****

Juliette was in bed. Half of her apartment was still boxed up. The other half was still unpacked as if her internal struggle was manifesting itself in odd ways. Opening her eyes, she rolled on the couch facing the door blinking. She knew who it was just by the knock and rolled back over curling up looking at the television. She had been depriving herself, over what? A guilty conscious? She was a dispicable master. She warred what she should have done that night when Chevvie confronted her. A part of her, the dominant part, demanded she throw him over the bed and spank his ass until it was red and then stroke him off and make him realize that she was his dominant.

Another part, the lover, wanted to pull him close and just kiss him until he couldn't think straight adn then talk about their problems.

But Juliette had gone with the side that only her master Bruce knew about. The little frightened child that ran away from problems and hid pushing other people away. She was pushing Chevvie away. She didn't want him unhappy. She loved him. She could only think of him. Her sketch book was filled wit pictures of Chevvie in various moods.

Juliette looked terrible, she wore a long shirt, and her eyes were puffy and red. She curled her long thin arms around her and snuggled into a blanket watching a blank television. Her hair was a horrible mess. She hoped that Chevvie would give up and just go away. He didn't want to be there, and she didn't want him there. Did she? No...yes... God why was her brain giving her all sorts of mixed messages.
 
Elena probably had no idea how awkward her question about the paper was for Shea. It put him in a difficult position indeed.

The normal protocol in the club's ownership relationships was for the subbie to do the work. A dominant in Shea's position - needing information - would dispatch his or her submissive to find out that information. If that were not possible - for example, if it was another dominant who had the facts - the dominant in question would ask for his or her self. Asking another submissive to do the job was a huge insult to one's own submissive!

The problem was that while T'mewi was as loving and devoted a subbie as any dominant could have asked for (not to mention that, now he'd taught her a few tricks, she was a dreams sexually) her limitations prevented him from being able to trust her for this kind of work. Her shyness and lack of confidence would, he knew, be too much of a handicap. She might break out in one of her skin rashes, for example, when attempting to "casually" ask the question, and reveal how important it was. Or have an asthma attack through sheer nervousness. And given the high regard that most of the submissives held for Mistress Juliette, her asking might offend another submissive and, since T'mewi was no fighter, the other subbie might fight her and humiliate her in front of the whole club.

There was no way Shea was going to risk that. He accepted T'mewi, with her limitations, loved her, and was prepared to do all he could to prevent her being upset.

"There was something Chevvie needed to know," Shea replied. "A personal piece of information. I won't disrespect his privacy by discussing it."

And then a sudden terrible thought struck him. Whatever her physical issues, T'mewi was no fool. what if she worked out that he was sparing her?

* * * * *

Most people, knocking at a door for the second time and receiving no response, would have given up. Especially when the person behind it was someone as formidable as Mistress Juliette. Chevvie was made of sterner stuff. Master Shea - a man whom he respected - had charged him with a commission. Therefore, said commission would be carried out.

And Chevvie was just the hermaphrodite to do it.

He fumbled in the pocket of his jeans, and pulled out two tiny pieces of hardened steel. Lockpicks. Working slowly and cautiously, with no wasted movement, he worked at the lock, and within a few minutes, had it open.

His first thought upon entering was to call out Mistress Juliette's name. But he soon thought better of that. If she were in a truly bad state, she would simply hurl abuse and lock the door of whatever room she was in. He was in no mood for another lock picking session!

So he simply walked into her bedroom.

The first thing he saw -and which rocked him back on his heels for the moment - was his own image. Repeated many times. His face. His naked body. In pencil, ink, rapidograph, paint-wash. Covering paper, canvas, board. Pictures of himself, in every pose imaginable, every mood.

And, crouched in the pre-natal position amidst them, her eyes focused on a midday chat-show, taking no notice of his presence whatsoever was Mistress Juliette. No longer the proud, unassailable, invincible dominant. With her arms curled around herself, wrapped in a blanket, she looked like a frightened, defeated girl.

Chevvie strode over and stood behind her. Submissive he was by choice - but there was more than one secret about him. When the mood took him, he could switch with a vengeance. Male to female, or... submissive to dominant.

"Mistress Juliette," he said, in a voice that would brook no argument. Unless you turn and face me, like one civilized human being to another, I shall grab your hair and make you turn around!"
 
Elena looked at him and then realized, he gave her job, one of the few she was supposed to do as submissive to someone else. Tears filled her eyes as her chin quivered. Looking up at him again, she looked down again and wrapped her arms around herself. She wanted to go home. But would not ask him. She raised her hand to her forehead and began to feel her lungs squeeze. She tried to take a full breath but nothign was helping. Gripping her hair, she tried to will herself to take a full breath. She shook her head adn ran back to the bathroom and slamed and locked herself in a bathroom and tried to breath, making odd wheezy noises as the whole world slowly turned more and more black as she tried to breath. She continued to try to breath but shut her eyes tighter and wheezed but soon passed out her body still trying to work for a good passageway of air.

Why did he lie to her? Why didn't he just turn to her and go, "Because I cannot trust you, your a wimp, weak, and a horrible submissive, I had to get another to do your work. Now shut up." Tears rolled down her face as her thoughts worked a hard as her lungs spinning phallacies and myths in her brain.
************************

Juliette heard him from her perch on the couch. SHe just continued to watch the blank television that was on mute. There was a scratching on the door. Good, he noticed she had removed her hide a key. The apartment smelt terrible. Not of the beautiful perfumes that she kept. It was dark like a cave. She was in the living room and watched him walk right by her. In her room she was keeping most of the pictures, but she didn't care anymore. She was exhausted. She saw him see her, but ust stared ahead. She was not afraid of him. He did not collar her, she would not turn to face him.

She just continued to watch the television not bothering to look at him. It hurt her to have him see her like this, but at the same time she didn't care. She knew he would see most of her things boxed up. Her toys she kept in her room, all her towels and linens. Her books. Everything except the couch, the kitchen, and her television. Her face was pale. Her eyes were red and puffy. She would not raise to his threats, mostly because, she didn't want to. She didn't want to see Chevvies hurt, his questions, she didn't want to feel him either. Those strong arms that she fell asleep in after turning dominant. Those soft breasts that cradled her. Chevvie was her rock, and right now, she had nothing to do with rocks.
 
Had Chevvie been present at the club, Shea would have asked him to use his lockpicks to open the door of the bathroom. Since he wasn't...

Shea decided upon a more direct (albeit more expensive) method.

He took a short run-up, and kicked out. With a crash that could be heard all over the club, the jamb shattered, and the door fell inwards.

"Good heavens, Siah," moaned Mistress Valki, in a private room a few doors away. "You're getting better. I really did feel the earth move, that time!"

Shea strode into the bathroom, his boots crashing on the fallen door . Only one cubicle was occupied, and from it, the sounds of Elena's rasping breath, coupled with sobbing, could be heard.

"I'll say this just once," he said, calmly, but clearly, so that she could not fail to hear it. "You come out now, and explain yourself, or I come in and get you. And if I have to do that, my very last act as your master will be to tan your ass until you can't stand. Then give you to Siah and tell her to throw you out."

He did not bother with some theatrical count, simply leaned against the wash basin.

* * * * *

Chevvie had not really expected Mistress Juliette to obey him. She would never break her long-time habit. Especially to a submissive. Had she done so, he would have been shocked, thrown for a total loop.

But, thankfully, she didn't, enabling him to carry out the next part of his plan.

Mistress Juliette was one of the strongest women he knew, probably the strongest in the club. Few men would care to tangle with her. But though he was a foot shorter than her, Chevvie was stronger still. He had, after all, been brought up in one of the roughest parts of Nice, and a transexual in that world learns to fight very early, or the alternative is total misery.

He lifted the couch, tilting it forward. There was a crash as Mistress Juliette hit the floor. Even in that split second, Chevvie marked the change in her. She had gone from the proud, immaculately attired dominant women to a badly-groomed, lank-haired, and utterly defeated creature. The blanket fell away from her as she landed, and the garment she was wearing - a sort of long t-shirt, half way to being a kind of nighgown - rode up, revealing her long, gorgeous (though at the moment stubble-covered) legs. Any other time he would have found the revelation exciting enough to take his mind off anything else. But he was an hermaphrodite on a mission.

He grabbed her lank hair and pulled her upwards, forcing her to turn and face him.

"Two choices," he barked. "We talk now, or I walk out of here and say goodbye!"
 
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