The Collectors (15 page)

I was encouraged when Jeanne pulled me over to the ottoman and draped me over it.

“Grip the legs of the ottoman and don’t move. Keep your legs exactly where they are. If you move, bad things will happen.”

Jeanne picked up a flogger, not unlike the one I’d admired in Paris. She dangled the strands over my body, brushed them up and down my back and ass, and did it a little more as I cooed appreciatively. But then came the thwack of the whip as it met my flesh and I howled through my gag. This was much heavier and more intense than anything she’d used on me before.

“You said you were ready for this when we were in Paris,” Jeanne said. “So I’m going to take you at your word.”

She hit me five times with it. Five horrible times. But each time I felt the pain in a different way, a progressively intoxicating way, as I saw myself go further under and Jeanne grow ever larger above me. By the end of the fifth blow I was panting, but it may have been as much from excitement as from the pain. I hadn’t moved at all while she was flogging me. I hadn’t moved once to avoid the blows, even though I was unrestrained. I could feel the shape of the strands where they left their impressions on my back. I relished the idea of them being there for days.

I was still in a haze when Jeanne returned me to the wall. It didn’t look like I was to be granted an orgasm either tonight. I also realized Jeanne had not come (I don’t think) and it seemed unlikely she’d let that remain the case. This worried me, for good reason. Jeanne now returned to her comrades and sat in a wide chair, signaling Pat to bring Heather to her. Pat took Heather down from the wall, took off her gag, and gave her some water. Then Jeanne pointed to the floor at her feet and ordered her to service her. I could hardly bear to watch.

Heather looked like she knew what she was doing, which was no surprise. I concentrated on watching Jeanne’s face. She didn’t look at me once. Instead, she stared at Heather’s tongue on her. Her eyes started to become hooded and her hands gripped the arms of the chair. It seemed it was just a minute or two before she came, her hips rising, her hands now pulling Heather’s mouth tighter against her. Then she collapsed back against the chair and signaled Heather to go away. Pat walked her back to the wall, and I tried not to look when Heather walked by me, the shine from Jeanne’s juices still gleaming on her skin.

The following Friday morning, I was on the train to a town two hours north of the city, a region dotted with hobby farms and expansive retreats for the city’s well-to-do. These properties encircled a quintessential small town with cute Main Street shops and overly sophisticated restaurants, the menus and prices of which would be of no interest to the year-round residents of the area. I’d been up here once before on a weekend trip with some fellow students, crammed into a lake cabin and too poor to eat at any restaurant. As the train pulled into the newly refurbished station and I saw Jeanne standing next to a Range Rover waiting for me, I knew I was in for a totally different experience this time around.

She took my bag when we reached each other, giving me a one-armed hug and a kiss. She seemed genuinely glad to see me. I’m not sure why this continued to surprise me, but it did. As I stepped up into the big car she pinched my ass and laughed before closing the door for me. Playful. It was also taking me a while to realize what a playful person Jeanne was, even beyond the sex play. She was not above a tickle fight, and one night we sent the feathers flying during a pillow fight. I felt guilty later that Mrs. Kirchberger probably had to clean it up.

“I’m so excited you’re here,” she said. “I was starting to go stir-crazy by myself.”

“I thought the place was going to be full of people this weekend.”

“It will be. But they’re just now trickling in. Most will be here by mid-afternoon.”

“When is the initiation?” I said.

Jeanne looked at me and smiled. “Nervous?”

“Of course. For all I know I’ll be pierced a la
Story of O
, or branded, or something else along those lines. I’m going into this blind.”

I could see Jeanne thinking about this. She took my hand.

“And you would go through something like that for me?”

I hesitated just a quick moment and returned her gaze. “I would. I would trust you to know when the right time would be.”

“You’re brave. I can see that in you. And you trust me, which means more to me than you probably know. But this isn’t the time for anything like that.”

I was relieved, and I also was even more trusting of Jeanne. I didn’t want to be jolted out of that place of trust by fear she’d do something that was too much for me. Would she one day order my labia pierced or a red hot brand applied to my flank? Possibly. But it would be when we were both ready for it.

“The initiation is scheduled for Saturday night. After the dinner you will leave with the other submissives while we vote on your admittance to the Society. The vote needs to be unanimously in favor, which I’m sure it will be. Then we proceed to the initiation and the party afterward.”

Jeanne drove as I looked out the window, at peace with the moment and able to not worry about what the weekend would bring. The countryside looked fairly bleak in the early November gray, but it was beautiful as well. Austere and graceful. The fields were on either side of us, both harvested and fallow, and I thought of their abundance and of how marvelous it would be to have such a simple and important reason for existence—to provide food. In between the working farms were the larger, elaborate properties used as second homes. Other second homes were located on the many lakes in the region. After a fifteen minute drive, Jeanne pulled into a narrow gravel road that ran through thick woods, emerging after half a mile onto an enormous property on one of those lakes. The house was an excellent imitation of an English manor home and it sat on the rear of the property, surrounded by acres of lawn and garden.

The property was on a bluff above the lake, and as soon as I walked through the front door into the house I saw the floor to ceiling windows that looked over the water. This one room appeared to be the central meeting area. It had a lot of furniture in it, all of it comfortable. Several women were sprawled around on sofas and chairs, and I could tell right away they were dominants. I didn’t think the submissives would sprawl. Jeanne introduced me briefly and then made our excuses to the others. She wanted to take me for a walk on the property.

“I’ll save our tour through the inside for tomorrow,” Jeanne said. “I want to show you the art, of course, which will take a little time. I’m looking forward to you seeing it.”

We walked out the back of the house. Twenty feet away were wooden stairs leading down to the lake, a vertical drop so steep it would be impossible for anyone in poor health to come back up once they’d gone down. The lake itself looked gorgeous—quiet and a steely blue. Jeanne led me away from the stairs and to the north lawn. There was a walkway that led some hundred feet or so away from the house, and along it were several outbuildings. Jeanne paused in front of the first.

“The first building here is a writing studio. It can also be an art studio. It can also be your studio if you want to do some concentrated work up here. Maybe on your holidays from school, when you want to get a lot done on the dissertation.”

“Really?” I was flabbergasted. I was starting to feel like a girlfriend. A girlfriend of a rich woman. We peeked into the studio and what I saw was an adorable cottage quite a bit bigger than my present apartment.

“I’d love that.”

Jeanne looked pleased. We went along the path and came to a tool shed and then a guest cottage, approximately twice as large as the studio, and finally a barn/workshop/auxiliary garage. There were no horses or livestock of any kind in the barn. Just jet skis and scooters and bikes and sporting equipment. As we were approaching the building I wondered if it were another play space—huge and elaborate. But it was a bit far away from the house. Getting to it wasn’t the problem, but I imagined staggering out of it all the way back would be.

On the other side of the house there was an enormous patio and an outdoor pool, and beyond that a tennis court. I felt like I was at a Four Seasons Resort. Jeanne talked about the work she’d done on the place, what it looked like when she bought it. All of the boring things people tell you when they are in love with their properties. It made me happy she was in love with hers.

We went down the steep stairs to see the beach. At the base of the stairs was a long dock out onto the water, with a boathouse at the end of it. It was surprisingly warm inside. Jeanne turned on an overhead light and I saw a large Chris-Craft cruiser clad in gleaming wood.

“It’s too cold to take her out today, but let’s sit in the boat for a while. I find it relaxing.”

Jeanne stepped down into the boat and turned to help me in. I loved how she automatically did the most thoughtful of things, just as she automatically felt an ownership over my body. She would offer me her arm one moment and give me the flat of her hand on my ass the next. It was hard to believe I found this soothing.

There was a bench seat in the back of the boat and we sat side by side, gently rocking as the lake moved beneath us.

“Can you tell me anything more about this society?” I asked. “Is it like
Story of O
? It seems the elements are there—the country house, the dominants who are in charge, the submissives who come to be initiated.”

“I hate to think of this as being so derivative.”

“We’re not talking about art, after all. Maybe there just aren’t very many ways to have such a group. And anyway,
Story of O
was popular for a reason.”

Jeanne grinned. “Kind of like the Bible?”

“Yes, the Bible of Dominance and Submission. So what’s the genesis of your group?”

“I am, I guess. I found as I became acquainted with more and more women who were interested in living this kind of life, it was feeling unwieldy. I didn’t feel all of the submissives were safe, or all of the dominants well trained. Essentially, I wanted a way to vet the people I play with, and it turned out there were many others who had the same concerns.”

I felt as if I’d found a home after looking for one my entire life. It was a feeling of tremendous relief. I teared up.

Jeanne looked startled. “Is that upsetting to you?”

“No, it’s like magic to me.”

Jeanne put her arm around me and held me close. “I gathered a few together and put the pieces in place for the organization.”

“How many are there?”

“World-wide there are probably two hundred or more. In this part of the country there are around fifty, and probably a third will be here this weekend. It’s a fluid number because there are people who are members but who are now old enough they don’t attend every function. People who were quite a bit older than me when we started. And then there are younger members of all ages, women who have been admitted over the last year and are still undergoing training.”

I sat quietly for a bit, taking it all in. I didn’t want to know all of the details up front. I knew Jeanne would let me know what I needed to know.

“I want to say something, but I’m not sure how good I am at saying this sort of thing,” Jeanne said.

“You’re good at everything.”

“You shouldn’t overestimate me.”

“What do you want to tell me?” I couldn’t imagine what it was.

“One of the reasons we’ve formed this society is because we all intend to have sex with multiple partners. It’s what we do.”

“I know that.”

“That’s not going to change, no matter what form our relationship takes.”

I felt stung. “I know that too. I would never imply otherwise.”

“Not all women are like you. And that’s what I want to say to you. Something about you has affected me in a way none of my other lovers ever has.”

My eyes got wide. Jeanne laughed. “I’m not sure whether I should take your expression as happiness or alarm.”

“Surprise, I think. Then happiness.”

“There will be a few group activities this weekend and you’ll see me with other women. I want you to know part of me will be thinking of you while I’m with them.”

“What will you be thinking when you see me with other women?”

Jeanne paused and looked down at her hands. “I’m not sure I’m prepared to see you with other women.”

We both were quiet with our thoughts about that. Jeanne probably couldn’t believe she’d said it.

“But I’ll keep an open mind,” she said, looking back at me. “Would you stay with me in my rooms this weekend? Most of the submissives stay in the west wing of the house unless invited to one of the doms’ bedrooms. I’d just as soon invite you now.”

“I’d love to,” I said.

Jeanne leaned over and kissed me. It seems odd to say she’d never really kissed me before. Not this kind of slow, passionate, masterful kiss. If I had been standing I would have swooned. If this were the first thing Jeanne had done with me it would not seem nearly as intimate as it now did. The kiss lengthened, our breathing deepened, and soon she was pushing me down and her hands started to roam over me. She fondled my breasts as if she’d never touched them before. She kissed the length of my neck as if in worship, adoring every inch of me. Then she knelt beside me and helped me take my clothes off, kissing each area of my body as it was revealed. I didn’t feel the cool air. My skin was hot to the touch. As she slid my panties off I could feel my wetness, and Jeanne wasted no time in feeling it also. She moved between my legs and put her mouth on me, teasing me with slow laps of her tongue. The tenderness was as powerful as her absolute dominance over me always was, but so interconnected. The one wouldn’t have its power without the presence of the other. I moved my hips to meet her tongue, to force myself harder on her and she didn’t correct me, didn’t order me into stillness. She met my urgency with her own and I felt myself starting to come.