Femdom s Ultimate Submission
- 2 years ago
- 49
- 0
The Ultimate Submission (Jacqueline's Story) free porn video
The Ultimate Submission (Jacqueline's Story)
By Gato Medio
© 2004 - All Rights reserved
" The Ultimate Submission (Jacqueline's Story) " ismy first long story. It's of the size which may justify calling it a book.It is divided into twenty-one chapters and - baring any unforeseen events -will be posted in seven weekly instalments of three chapters each.
In a way, " The Ultimate Submission " isreally my first story. I started working on it under the title "Jacqueline'sstory" roughly a year ago. There came a point when I felt Jacqueline neededsome time to decide in which direction she wanted to go and I wrote four considerablyshorter stories which were published between February and May 2004.
" The Ultimate Submission " is also my firststory which had the benefit of being reviewed by an editor before being published.I consider myself lucky to have had the help of Peter Z who scrutinized myscribbling and pointed out errors and other problems. There is no doubt inmy mind that the final product has gained considerably from Peter Z's contribution.So, here's a big 'Thank you' to you, Peter Z!
By the way: The story is written in British English, so don't blame PeterZ if you come across a word which looks 'kind of weird'. The British spellingand any errors which still made it into the published text are entirely myresponsibility.
Chapter 1
Villiers-sur-Seine, the place where I was born and grew up, is a medium-sizedtown, roughly 50 kilometres southwest of Paris. Visitors might describe theplace as sleepy; the adult population considers it peaceful, but most of theyounger people would call it outright boring.
The town is not close enough to Paris to be considered a suburb, but tooclose to develop a worthwhile cultural life of its own. In consequence, thosewho don't have the means to go to Paris – and that covers most adolescents – don'thave much choice of what to do in their spare time. There are a few cinemas,an open air swimming pool and a couple of discos. There is also a park, theMunicipal Park, near the town centre. It tends to get very crowded, particularlyon Sundays, and young people with their irreverent, noisy behaviour usuallyfeel they're not welcome. But it has a few benches which are hidden from thegeneral public's view, and young people are keen to use this chance for a littleprivacy. The main drawback is that the gates are locked at sunset.
My parents belong to the group of people who would call Villiers peaceful.They would also be quick to point out that it isn't as peaceful as it usedto be. High-speed train connections and the fact that most people now can afforda car have brought the town closer to the 'city of sin'.
Particularly my father was one of those who decry the decline in moral standardswhich the closeness to the capital had brought to our town. His criticism wasspecifically aimed at women, mainly from the younger generations, whose behaviourdid not measure up to his strict standards. The sexual permissiveness of today'swomen as manifested in clothes which he considered too revealing was his primetarget. His favourite word for such women was slut, and he left no doubt thathe would not hesitate to apply this word to me, should he ever find me guiltyof wantonness.
My father always made it clear that my education was a strain on the family'sbudget and that he would have to continue making sacrifices if I were to goon to university. He never missed an opportunity to point out that he himselfhad never been given the chance to study. But, he then always added, he wasquite willing to carry that burden to provide for my future.
However, if my behaviour indicated that I wasn't taking my studies seriously,he would stop financing my idleness and I would have to find a job to earnmy own keep. He used this 'not taking my studies seriously' ruthlessly to prohibitanything he didn't approve of: listening to the wrong kind of music, wearingmake-up, coming home late, being dressed 'improperly' and having a boyfriend.
Although I did not agree with my parents' opinions and the strict controlthey exercised over me, I had no choice but to endure it – at least untilI would be able to pay my own way.
I studied hard and never lost sight of my goal to pass the final exams withflying colours. I did not just want to achieve the necessary marks to gainentrance to university, I wanted to be in the top ten percent of my year inorder to qualify for a scholarship and achieve at least some independence frommy parents.
-----
My story starts some time in August of the year 2002. We were in the middleof the summer holidays, the time of year when I hated Villiers most. The factthat there were no lessons to attend made it even more obvious that there isabsolutely nothing to do for young people. The only relief from boredom wasthe open-air swimming pool.
The town was almost empty. Most people had gone on holidays to the Atlanticcoast or the _ Cote d'azur _. The girls in my class whichhadn't gone away used the small gardens behind their houses to work on theirsuntan. Most of them wouldn't think twice about sunbathing topless; the moredaring ones would look for a spot that was hidden from the public's view andtake off their bikini bottoms as well to get a seamless tan without any whitepatches.
I, on the other hand, didn't even dare to sunbathe in my bikini in our garden,for fear of incurring the wrath of my father. Instead, I went to the publicswimming pool but never took off my top because I was too worried that my fathermight get to hear about it. Most of my schoolmates didn't know the reason behindmy apparent prudery and my dedication to my studies. They thought of me asa prude cram and weren't very interested in making friends with me.
I don't know if my father's attitude had anything to do with this, but Inoticed that my physical development as a woman was happening slower than withmy class mates. When the other girls were already proud of their fully developedbreasts and exchanged stories about their first adventures with boys, my breastswere only two bumps on my chest and there weren't any boys interested in me.
One day, in the open-air pool, lying belly-down on my beach towel, I decidedto undo the catch of my bikini top. That way I would at least get an uninterruptedsuntan on my back. I must have dozed off in the warm sunshine because I didn'tnotice Thierry, one of my classmates, approaching. He had seen me lying thereand had gone to fill a plastic bag with water for his idea of a joke.
I was up like a rocket when the cold water hit my back, and told Thierryin no uncertain terms to get lost. And, of course, I forgot all about my bikinitop being undone. When I noticed that my breasts were exposed to his eyes,I quickly covered myself.
He just laughed at me. "Look around you Jacqueline! There are plentyof beautiful breasts, waiting for me to look at them. Why would I want to lookat your titties?"
I decided to ignore his insult and returned to the position I had been inbefore he arrived without saying a word. He would probably tell his friendswhat had happened and his story would reinforce their opinion that I was sexuallyretarded.
But that wasn't my main worry that day. What really made me uptight werethings which I didn't understand that were happening to me on a physical andemotional level.
The hormonal changes had finally started to happen and they arrived witha vengeance. I could notice almost daily that the size of my breasts had expandeda little more and a few more pubic hairs had grown. I wasn't completely ignorant;I picked up information here and there, from books, magazines and the conversationswith other girls. It was no mystery to me when my body started to change anddevelop into that of a young woman; the shaping of my budding breasts, thegrowth of pubic hair on my mound, all these things happened the way I had learnedto expect.
What I was completely unprepared for were the feelings which accompaniedthese changes. I couldn't concentrate on anything because I was constantlyaroused and couldn't stop thinking about sex. It disturbed me greatly and Iwas convinced that there was something wrong with me. Had I been religiousI would have come to the conclusion that the devil had taken possession ofmy body. But, as I didn't believe in the devil or any other supernatural power,I tried desperately to find a more rational explanation. I was convinced thatI was the only person in the world experiencing these sensations and that Ineeded professional help.
I didn't have any hope that my mother would be able to help me. She hadn'teven prepared me for my first menstruation, because the subject was just tooembarrassing for her to talk about. I had to find out about 'the curse' fromother girls.
There wasn't any teacher or doctor I trusted enough to ask about such a deeplypersonal matter. The few girls with whom I had some sort of friendship at schoolhad gone away for the summer holidays. I felt I was completely on my own. ThenI thought of Charlotte.
[Charlotte]
I had become friends with Charlotte during the relatively short time whenshe was my classmate. Charlotte was a full year older than the rest of us.She should really be one class ahead but she had been in hospital for a longtime after a car crash - the one in which her mother was killed. When she returnedto school she joined my class to make up for the lessons she had missed.
I guess what attracted me to Charlotte was that she was also a bit of anoutsider and didn't quite fit in with the 'normal' pupils. She was a self-proclaimedlesbian and men-hater. She called herself Charles and wanted everybody elseto also call her by that name. It seems that I was the only one who did herthat favour. We accepted each other for what we were and this mutual acceptanceturned us into friends.
But then Charlotte moved to another part of town and transferred to a differentschool. I missed her company, but the feeling wasn't strong enough to makeme continue our friendship. Also, with her being a lesbian, I was worried thatI might give the wrong signals if I continued to see her once she was no longermy classmate.
Charlotte was older than me and in many respects more experienced, more downto earth. Her body had already fully developed and she seemed to know a lotabout the female body and sex. I trusted her enough to tell her about my problem.I was sure she wouldn't laugh at me, even if I asked stupid questions.
I decided to ask her for advice. I took my courage in both hands and phonedCharlotte, telling her that I needed to talk to someone I could trust aboutmy developing sex drive. She seemed really pleased that I had contacted herand asked me to come 'round to her place the next day. Just hearing her cheerfulvoice on the phone made me already feel better.
The fact that a girl of her age was living on her own in her own apartmentgave rise to a lot of gossip. Her father had not waited very long to remarryafter his wife, Charlotte's mother, had been killed in that accident. Whatset the tongues wagging was the fact that his second wife was much youngerthan him. In fact she was only a couple of years older than Charlotte.
Many said that her father had raped and sexually abused Charlotte. Some neighboursbelieved this had started already while her mother was still alive; otherswere convinced that it was the death of his wife that made him use his daughteras a substitute. There were even some who were convinced that the remarriagehad resulted in a '_ ménage à trois_ '.All were convinced that it was the abuse she had suffered from her father whichhad turned her into a lesbian and an outspoken critic of everything male. Thestory was that she had threatened to go to the police unless her father allowedher to move out of his house. He had no choice but to agree and was payingthe rent along with a generous allowance.
Charlotte's version of the story was that she didn't get along with her stepmother. "She's only a few years older than me. How could I let her actas if she were my mother and order me around?"
Also, she said, the two were constantly 'at it', often starting their gamesright in front of her, before disappearing into their bedroom. He couldn'tkeep his hands off his new wife and she provoked him by walking around thehouse with a minimum of clothes on. "I explained to my father that thisenvironment was not suitable for bringing up a respectable young lady, andhe eventually saw my point."
Later, when we were intimate friends, I asked Charlotte if any of these rumoursabout her and her father were true.
"These stories," she answered, "are spread by people who cannotaccept that a woman is a lesbian, simply because she's a lesbian. They needto find some terrible event, preferably a male misdeed, in order to explainwhy a woman doesn't want to be screwed by men."
-----
When I arrived at Charlotte's apartment, she asked me what exactly the problemwas and, with some difficulty, I explained.
"The problem is this: I know that my body is changing into that of ayoung woman, but there are some things happening to me which I don't understand.I'm almost constantly aroused, my nipples harden for no apparent reason andI can't stop touching myself. When I do touch myself, especially my breastsand my sex, it feels so good that I want more and more. I think there is somethingwrong with me."
She seemed a little amused by my worries. "You've come to the rightplace. Dr. Charles will cure you in no time. I'll have to examine you. Takeoff your clothes, I'll be with you in a minute," she said, disappearinginto her bedroom.
"All my clothes?" I shouted after her.
"No, silly. Have you never been to a doctor? Keep your knickers on.You only take off your knickers when the doctor tells you to."
I took off my clothes, folded them neatly and put them in a pile on a chair.Charlotte returned, wearing a white coat, just like a real doctor. I had theimpression that she had taken off the clothes she had been wearing before.
She looked at me and smiled. "Has anybody told you before what a prettygirl you are?"
I blushed but didn't know what to say. She took my shoulders and made meturn around, taking a good look at me.
"Those woolly knickers spoil the picture," she said finally. "Didyou select them yourself?"
"No," I answered, "my mother buys all my clothes for me. Idon't earn any money yet, so I can't be very demanding."
"Well, next time ask her to buy something a little more sexy, somethingthat makes you feel you're a desirable young woman. For now, it's probablybest if you take them off as well."
The garment in question wasn't actually made of wool; this was just one ofCharlotte's exaggerations that I would get used to over time. But it was truethat the panties my mother bought for me were completely shapeless and didnothing to enhance my appearance.
I followed her instructions but felt uneasy about the whole thing. Of course,there was nothing wrong with taking off one's clothes for a medical examination,but Charlotte wasn't really a doctor. Yes, it was usual to get undressed infront of other girls in the changing room before and after physical education,but then the purpose of the exercise was to change as quickly as possible intoanother set of clothes and I was never completely naked for any length of time,although some girls seemed to enjoy parading their naked beauty in front ofthe others.
Charlotte proceeded to 'examine' me, passing her hands all over my body,and I mean _ all_ over my body. The gentle touch of herfingers on my skin created a very pleasant sensation and I could feel my nipplesharden. It didn't escape her attention that I was getting excited, so she cuppedone of my breasts in her hand and passed her fingers over my nipple.
"How does this feel?" she asked.
"Wonderful," I said, "but it also gives me an urge betweenmy legs that I cannot satisfy."
She quickly put her hand between my legs. "Are you always this wet?"
I blushed. I felt deeply embarrassed by her question. "I had a showerjust before coming here. But I get wet again very quickly. Particularly now,when I undressed in front of you and when you touched me. Is there somethingwrong with my body?"
She smiled. "Your body is in perfect working order. It's just that you'rehorny as hell. You need some expert treatment. But for that it's better ifyou lie down."
Outside there was a storm brewing. Dark rain clouds had gathered and Charlottehad to switch on the lights even though it was only mid-afternoon. She showedme to the bedroom and made me lie on her bed, then she took off her doctor'scoat. Underneath it she only wore a black thong, a tiny triangle of textileheld in place by a few strings. The nipples on her full, firm breasts seemedto be just as hard as mine. Looking at her almost naked body made me feel evenmore excited.
Charlotte joined me on the bed which was just wide enough for two peoplelying close together. She hugged me and pressed my naked body close to hers.She kissed me while her hands moved down my back, making my skin tingle withexcitement.
Something inside me told me that it was a very bad thing to let her touchme like this, that I was in danger of turning into one of those women whichmy father called 'slut', but it felt good, oh so good, and I allowed Charlotteto do with me what she wanted.
Changing position, her mouth moved down my body towards my breasts and oneof her hands found its way between my legs. As her mouth reached my breast,I let out a deep moan. My arousal had become unbearable. There was a desiredigging deep in my loins, an ache for which I knew no remedy.
"Relax," Charlotte said, "don't try to control your desire.Let the pleasure take control."
I decided to just lie in her arms and to enjoy whatever she was doing tome – and she seemed to know exactly what to do. With her mouth stillon my breast and her tongue running gentle circles around my nipple, her handstroked my sex, gently prying my lips open and moving her fingers up and down.Then, when her fingers caressed the little hard knob between my pussy lips,I could no longer control myself.
There was thunder and lightning and a ten thousand volt charge hit me rightwhere Charlotte's fingers were. It was as if something inside me had exploded,sending wave after wave of pleasure through my whole body. I heard myself producesounds I had never made before. I had never felt anything like it in my wholelife.
It's quite possible that I fainted at this point, if only for a few seconds.The next thing I remember is that I opened my eyes, looked at Charlotte andasked, "What happened?"
She smiled. "It seems that you just experienced your first ever orgasm.And what a powerful one it was!"
With the rain pouring down outside, Charlotte taught me many new things aboutmy body, guiding my fingers so that I would learn how to stimulate myself.Then she talked about masturbation as a way of releasing the excitement.
She took off her thong and let me watch as she masturbated, her nimble fingerscaressing her body, opening the crevice of her pussy and stroking her eagerclitoris. Her sensual face, tensing with excitement and then showing completerelaxation as she reached the climax, was as beautiful and exciting as hernaked body.
All this touching and watching had made me hot again and she suggested thatI put into practice what I had just learned.
"Masturbate for me, come for me," she told me.
Under her expert eyes I brought myself to another climax, feeling that thiswas the happiest day in my life. Afterwards I covered Charlotte with kissesto show how grateful I was to her.
When the 'consultation' came to an end and I got ready to go, I asked Charlotte, "Doyou think I'm cured now?"
She laughed. "What you have, my dear, is incurable. It's called insatiablehorniness. But you can alleviate its effects by repeating today's treatmentas often as necessary. And you still have a lot to learn. So, come by wheneveryou feel like."
From this day on I became a frequent visitor to Charlotte's place. Therewere many more secrets about feminine sexuality which she taught me, and somethat we discovered together. She introduced me to the joys of cunnilingus bygiving my pussy the full treatment with her mouth and then making me eat hersin return.
But her lessons weren't limited to the feminine side of sex. She showed mea number of magazines and books with explicit pictures and descriptions. Therewere muscular men with enormous erect penises and naked women who were apparentlyonly too pleased to submit to their every wish. There were pictures of womenlicking those huge penises like ice cream cones or taking them into their mouthsas far as possible, pictures of men sticking their penises deep into theirpartners' vaginas, even some penetrating their anuses.
There were women having sex with two men at the same time and women whosefaces and bodies were splattered with the men's semen. I was sure these publicationshad come straight from hell, but I couldn't help feeling extremely arousedlooking at these pictures and reading the texts which contained words whichI – until then – would have never dreamt of pronouncing.
After seeing these pictures I frequently caught myself looking at boys' crotchesand wondering what their penises might look like and whether they were wasas big and hard as the ones I had seen in Charlotte's magazines. But I didn'tonly take an interest in the male anatomy. I also looked at women in a differentway and when I saw a couple hugging or kissing in public I fantasised aboutwhat they might be doing in the privacy of their bedroom.
-----
Charlotte kept teasing me about my 'woolly knickers', saying they made melook like a farmer's girl from two centuries ago. I had asked my mother tobuy me something more fashionable, reporting that my class mates in the changingroom had been giggling and talking about me behind my back, but I met withcomplete incomprehension. For her, underpants were something you wear but neverlook at, let alone allow anybody else to see you in.
My solution to this dilemma was to take off all my clothes as soon as I arrivedat Charlotte's place. She was very pleased to see that I surrendered myselfso willingly to her and I was happy to escape her jokes. It took me some timeto realise that there was more to it than that. With my clothes I left behindSainte Jacqueline, the boring, well-behaved prude, which did not have muchfun in her life and turned into Jacqueline the wanton slut, or Slut-lin' asI sometimes called this part of my personality, out to enjoy herself even ifit meant having to roast in hell for the rest of eternity.
One afternoon, when I arrived at Charlotte's apartment – she had givenme a key so that I could let myself in – I heard her shout, "I'min the kitchen."
I undressed as usual and went to meet her. When I got to the kitchen, I sawa plumber who was bending over the washing machine. He lifted his head andlooked at me with a broad grin. Charlotte just said, "Ah, that's Jacqueline,my sex slave."
Unable to utter a word, I covered myself as best I could and ran to the bedroom,locking the door behind me. I only agreed to open the door after Charlotteassured me that the man had left. She was deaf to my complaints that she shouldhave warned me about the presence of someone else in the apartment, particularlyas this someone else was a man.
She just said, "Don't be such a prude. Let the poor guy have some funtoo. Looking at you probably was the best thing that happened to him for along time. And tonight, when he has a few drinks with his friends, he's goingto tell them about it – you made his day without even lifting a finger!" Andthat closed the subject as far as she was concerned.
Later that day, after she had feasted her hands and mouth on my naked bodyand had allowed me to do the same with hers, she started thinking aloud.
"You know, when I told that plumber that you were my sex slave, it wasmeant as a joke. But I've been thinking about it, and, in fact, you reallyare my sex slave. You get undressed as soon as you arrive to show that you'repermanently available for me, you never dare to deny me any wish and you doeverything I tell you to do."
From this day on, Charlotte decided that I was to be her sex slave for real.She established a series of rules which I had to follow: I was to call herMaster Charles, I was to remove all my clothes as soon as I arrived at herplace, I was not allowed to cross my legs in her presence so that she couldalways feast her eyes on my juicy plum, as she put it, and, in general, I wasto follow all her orders without delay. She also ordered me not to wear a braunless it was absolutely unavoidable.
The new rules, which I accepted reluctantly – I was never quite surehow far she would take them – did not represent any significant changein our relationship. I continued to spend many afternoons at her place, indulgingin the pleasure of unrestrained lust.
Alma
- 27.09.2020
- 59
- 0
