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Rather sheepishly Helen returned to the kitchen to find Sam stirring a tomato sauce for the pasta. She came up behind her friend and wrapped her arms about her.
“Thank you, Sam, that was very special,” she said.
Sam didn’t answer but she switched off the gas under the sauce and turned round and kissed Helen full on the lips. Helen responded without any thoughts of “I’m kissing a woman” or “This is unnatural”; it was simply a kiss between lovers and it was as natural as breathing. For maybe five minutes they stood there, locked together, until Sam broke away.
“I’d love just to stay here and kiss you all night,” she purred, “but if we don’t get on with dinner then we’re never going to get out.”
“Out?” Helen queried. “Where are we going?”
“There’s this club I know, girls only place, and there’s a crowd I hang out with who tend to meet up there on Saturdays. I thought we’d go down and I’d show you off to my friends.”
“Show me off? I’m not at all sure about that,” Helen replied with an air of uncertainty in her voice.
“What’s up?” Sam asked. “Scared of going to a club full of lezzies?
“It’s just…. Look, Sam, I’m not sure I’m ready,” Helen replied nervously.
“Hey, I understand, but we’re just going to a club, I’m not asking you to come out to your parents or anything like that. Please, come along and meet the gang, they’re really nice people.” Sam gave Helen a little hug. “Go on, give it a try. Anyway, I bought a new dress for you to wear.”
“Another new dress!” Helen exclaimed. “I thought you were broke.”
“Yeah, I am, but whilst Bernard was cutting your hair I had to do something so I went back to the market and picked you up a little number. Nothing much but it’s just the thing for going out clubbing.”
“I’m not sure if that makes me more nervous or less,” Helen replied laughing, “but, seeing as you’ve bought the dress it looks like I’ll have to go to the club with you.”
“That’s better; now let’s get on with the meal.” Sam gave Helen one last kiss and turned back to the stove.
As the two women worked together Helen mulled over what Sam had said. I’m not asking you to come out to your parents. That was a pretty scary thought; they had been disapproving enough when she had broken up with Rob, implying that it had been her fault for not being a ‘good’ wife; what on earth would they say when she turned up with Sam? Still, maybe they wouldn’t need to find out, not for a while anyway. But that raised the whole question of what to do about family parties, about Christmas, about any event when she was expected to put in an appearance; was her whole life from now on going to be a lie? She certainly hadn’t the courage to face her family just yet and she doubted she ever would.
Sam was not so insensitive as to not notice the turmoil within her friend but, guessing at its origin, she let it run. She was no stranger to the coming out process and knew that Helen, like so many before her, had to work it out for herself. By the time the food was on the table the cloud had passed and they chatted freely as they ate.
They finished their meal and washed up the dishes before going upstairs to get changed ready to go out. Sam produced the bag from the market and brought out a classic ‘little black number’, short sleeved, plenty of cleavage and short enough to be daring whilst long enough to be decent.
“I can’t wear this!” Helen exclaimed. “It’s far too young for me; I’ll look like mutton dressed as lamb.”
“You can and will!” Retorted Sam sharply. “And I’ve had far too much backchat; you can consider that an order.”
“Well… If you say so,” Helen conceded. “Do I at least get to wear panties?”
“No, I don’t think so; it’s pretty figure hugging and we don’t want any VPL; what is more, with that cleavage, you won’t be wearing a bra either.”
Helen, despite her reluctance, was tingling inside from the thought of being ‘ordered’ to wear this daring dress so she took it from Sam and headed for the bathroom to get changed. She hadn’t reached the door before Sam called her back and told her such modesty was not allowed so she put the dress on the bed and shrugged of the one they had bought earlier. Sam was watching all the while and, although it made Helen self conscious, she was fast getting used to being naked, or near naked in front of her friend. She slipped the new dress over her head and wriggled inside it. Calling the dress ‘figure hugging’ had been an understatement; if the Lycra fabric had not been so stretchy there would have been no way she could have got it on at all. In fact Sam had to help pull it down but, eventually, between them they got it sorted out and Helen looked at herself in the mirror. She had to admit that Sam had been right to ban underwear, the fabric was so tight that anything other than a thong would have been visible, and, as for her breasts, well, the deep cleavage precluded wearing any bra, but the tight material gave her all the support she needed even if it istanbul escort did leave little to the imagination. were her nipples really that obvious? However, once she got over how revealing the dress was, Helen had to admit that it didn’t look that bad; the tight fabric was holding in her tummy and accentuating what curves she had. Combined with her new haircut this was a whole new look for her; she really felt like a different woman. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to sort out the mess that had resulted from pulling on the dress but as soon as she lifted her arm the hem line of the dress rose dramatically. Oh my God! She thought to herself making a mental note to keep her arms down once they were out.
“God, you look sexy.” Sam had come up behind her and, putting her arms around Helen’s waist, looked over her shoulder to admire the effect. “You look good enough to eat,” Sam continued and, as if to illustrate the point, she took a little nibble on Helen’s shoulder.
“Do you really think so?” Helen asked, still uncertain.
“Absolutely. Now, if you sit at the dressing table and do your make-up then I can get on with changing. You’re not the only one dressing up tonight.”
It was a bit awkward for the two of them in Sam’s crowded bedroom but Helen did as she was told and let Sam get on with changing her clothes. As Sam stripped Helen watched out of the corner of her eye. Sam had none of Helen’s nervousness about being naked, indeed she seemed to revel in it, taking off her jeans and tee shirt and throwing them in the dirty washing basket before searching in her wardrobe. Helen was struck, first by how sexy Sam looked, but secondly by the very fact that she was finding another woman sexy. Was this purely because Sam had been responsible for introducing her to a whole new range of sexual pleasures or was she developing a whole new appreciation for the female form? Whichever, the hairbrush lay unused on the dressing table as she stared at her lover, mesmerised.
“Come on, slowcoach!” Sam joshed as she turned and noticed her friend’s inactivity. “You can’t sit there all night.”
Helen turned back to the mirror and got on with her hair. The new cut was certainly easier to deal with and she quickly had it under control. Meanwhile Sam had fetched out a white blouse and a dark blue trouser suit; Helen had never seen her looking so stylish and, even if the outfit were a shade masculine, she was still definitely a woman.
As the two women sorted out their make-up there was an inevitable bit of push and shove around the dressing table which quickly turned to good natured banter; Helen couldn’t help but contrast this with the foul moods that Rob used to get into before any social gathering and how much easier it was with Sam, despite the crowded conditions in her bedroom. In fact she was having fun, something that had been missing from her life for far too long. Eventually they got themselves sorted out and, still giggling together, set off out to walk to the club.
As they made their way down the streets in the evening sunlight Helen was all too aware of just how short her skirt was. She kept having to tug it down as it seemed to have a mind of its own and was constantly riding up and threatening to expose her. Still, as they passed another party also heading into town she realised that many of the girls were wearing equally short skirts. She wasn’t the only one; the various clubs and discos would be full of girls in risqué outfits. It was just such a shock for her to be out like this, for her to be the girl in the short dress, for her not to be Miss Prim and Proper.
However, as they neared the town centre and were waiting to cross the road at some traffic lights, a mini-bus full of lads, evidently on a stag night, pulled up waiting to turn right. The windows were wide open as the occupants enjoyed the warm weather.
“Hey guys! Check out the knockers on that!” One of the lads shouted.
“Oi! Darlin!” Another called out. “Yeah, you in the black dress; show us yer knickers.”
“Come on, don’t be shy. There’s plenty of room in the van. Come inside and sit on my face!” Yet another shouted. The side door started to open but, to Helen’s relief, the lights changed and the mini-bus drove off.
“That was… That was scary,” Helen said, turning to Sam.
“Nah, just lads mucking about,” Sam replied. “You should take it as a compliment. Surely you’ve had cat calls before.”
“Not like that,” Helen returned.
“Maybe you’ve never looked this sexy before. Come on, the lights have changed.” Sam took Helen by the hand and set off across the road.
The club, when they reached it, turned out to be down an alleyway just of the High Street. Helen would never have spotted it had she not been led there. When they got to the door a shutter was drawn aside briefly before the door was opened, letting them through into a hallway. Helen was astonished to find that the doorkeeper was kadıköy escort a young woman wearing a collar, wrist cuffs and an arrangement made of strapping which left nothing to the imagination.
“Good evening, Mistress,” The woman said. “We haven’t seen you for quite a while.”
“Hi, Julie. How’s tricks?” Sam replied. “Pass me the visitor’s book and I’ll sign my friend in.”
Julie reached under the counter and fetched out a leather bound visitors book. Helen tried to keep her eyes averted but she couldn’t help herself from taking sideways glances. The woman appeared totally unselfconscious about sitting there practically naked and was acting as if this were a normal, day to day, occurrence. Perhaps it was, that would explain the security on the door, but if so, what sort of club had Sam brought her to and what was going to be expected of her?
The formalities completed Sam started to lead Helen down a passageway into the body of the club but Helen was not going to go that easily.
“Sam!” she hissed, grabbing her friend by the sleeve. “What sort of place is this? What have you got me into?”
“Just a club where the girls get together, girls who share our tastes in the bedroom, a place where we can be what we want to be without attracting too much attention,” Sam replied airily.
“And you expect me to dress up like that?” Sam said, pointing at Julie. “I’d rather die.”
Sam looked at her friend and realised she might have overstepped the mark. However, she wasn’t going to back out now.
“No, of course I don’t expect you to dress up like that, well, not unless you choose to. Please, Helen, give it a try, will you?” she pleaded. “No one’s going to ask you to do anything you don’t want to. I promise you’ll be safe and I promise I’ll look after you. Come and have one drink and, if you still don’t like it, we’ll leave and go somewhere else. Please, just one drink.”
At that point the door to the main body of the club and a woman came out and gave Sam a friendly wave before heading for the toilets. Whilst her outfit was mostly black leather and had many BDSM overtones it was neither as outrageous nor as revealing as Julie’s. Helen hovered on the edge of indecisiveness. She was well outside her comfort zone, and felt that she had been tricked into coming but she didn’t want to be prudish and she didn’t want to end the day on a sour note so, in the end, somewhat reluctantly, she gave in.
Sam led her into the body of the club; quite a small room, discretely lit, with booths round the edges and a bar and small stage at one end. It was about half full and Helen could see at once that everyone was dressed, to some extent, following a BDSM theme. Having said that the outfits varied widely so that some could even have been worn on the street and her, and Sam’s, rather vanilla outfits weren’t out of place. At the other end of the scale was the obvious dominatrix in a black leather catsuit who sat at one end of the bar and the bar staff were dressed, or should that be undressed, in the same fashion as the doorkeeper. Sam led Helen over to the bar and the dominatrix who sat there.
“Hi, Sam,” the woman said as they approached. “We haven’t seen you here in a while. Who’s your friend?”
“Hi, Wanda. This is Helen. She’s new to all this so I thought I’d bring her down to meet the crowd.”
“Helen, what a pretty little thing you are; if you weren’t Sam’s I’d be tempted, very tempted. How would you like to join my harem; learn how to serve a real Mistress?” Wanda looked Helen up and down lasciviously and somehow Helen felt more naked than she had ever been before. Sam put her arm around Helen as if to protect her.
“Don’t worry; I’m only playing with you,” Wanda laughed. “Anyway, Sam, you know the rules, it’s all look and no touch; not without permission, anyway. Now, can I get you a drink?” Wanda clicked her fingers and immediately the barmaid was there. “Now, as it’s your subbie’s first time here your first drink is on me.”
Sam ordered a white wine but Helen, wanting to keep a clear head, stuck to coke. Whilst their drinks were being poured Wanda, seeing another member enter the club, gave Sam and Helen a little smile and went off to meet the newcomers. Sam was looking around when she was spotted by some friends who waved her over so, taking Helen once more by the hand, they went and joined the group.
Again the costumes were mixed; possibly the most daring was a black leather basque but others were in quite plain clothes. Helen noticed that all the subs, as she was learning to call them, wore collars. Whilst the group was friendly there was a constant air of sexual tension; some of the Dommes had appraised Helen in a way that made her more than a trifle uncomfortable and one had gone as far as to comment to Sam how sexy she looked. However it quickly became apparent that, as with Wanda, the rule was look but don’t touch. Still feeling a more than a little out of place Helen sat down kağıthane escort with Sam and joined the group.
Most of the conversation was about people and places that she didn’t know but they were all very friendly and did their best to help Helen join in. When the woman in the basque, who had been introduced as Mistress Alex, suggested another round of drinks Sam looked over at Helen who, surprised that the first one had gone so quickly, agreed to a second. A younger woman in a white dress got up to fetch the drinks and, when she returned, she sat back down next to Helen.
“Hello,” she said. “You’re Helen Wilson, aren’t you, from accounts, down at the council. I almost didn’t recognise you with your new haircut. You’ve kept this side of yourself well hidden at the office.”
“Yes, yes I am, and you’re… in personnel…” Helen struggled to get the name.
“That’s right, Susan Woodman, or perhaps I should say, slave susan at your service. I didn’t know you were a member here.”
“I’m not. I came with Sam,” Helen replied. “This is all a bit new to me.”
“So I can see, and you without a collar. You’d better watch yourself, an uncollared sub as pretty as you will be fighting the Dommes off but, if you came with Sam, aren’t you her sub?”
“I’m not sure. In fact I’m not sure what I am; it’s all a bit confusing,” Helen confessed.
“Yeah, it can be at first, let me tell you about my first time here…”
Suddenly it was as if a cloud had lifted for Helen. Instead of being some strange weirdo this was Susan from personnel, instead of being expected to take everything in her stride here was someone who understood her doubts and uncertainties and, almost immediately, they were deep in conversation, ignoring the rest of the group as they found more and more that they shared a common loathing of the office politics at the council buildings and a certain appreciation of having a well spanked bottom. At some point their drinks were refreshed but they hardly noticed. Susan explained about the dress code, how some sort of fetish gear was expected but not compulsory, especially around ‘that time of the month’.
“You’ve picked a good night to come,” Susan continued, “Rose is being collared tonight.”
“Collared? What does that mean?” Helen asked.
“You really are new to all this, aren’t you?” Susan said. “It’s a special occasion, a bit like a marriage in a way, when a slave formally submits to her Domme.”
“And no one uses a collar without this ceremony?” Helen asked in surprise.
“Well, it’s a bit more complex than that,” Susan explained. “Every sub ought to wear a collar, I’m surprised you haven’t got one, but there’s a world of difference between putting on a collar for a bit of play and a formal collaring. It’s more like a marriage… Well, you’ll see when the time comes.”
It wasn’t long after this that the lights in the club were lowered even further and the lights on the stage came on. As an expectant hush fell over the club Alex called Susan back to sit on her lap and Sam moved back to sit beside Helen.
“I see you found a friend,” Sam whispered.
“Yeah, that’s Susan from the office. She’s….” Helen replied.
“Shh now,” Sam countered. “Watch the stage.”
Wanda made her way across the club and up on to the stage where she fetched a microphone out from the wings.
“Ladies,” She announced. “Tonight is a joyous occasion, an occasion when two friends, two people we all know, have chosen to share with us their commitment, their commitment to their roles, their commitment to each other. Ladies, let’s have a big hand for Mistress Angela and slave rose.”
To the sound of cheers and cat-calls a woman dressed from head to toe in an outfit made of burgundy leather stood up and made her way to the stage. It was only when she got there that Helen was able to see that she was not alone. Following on her hands and knees was another woman dressed in a cloak that matched her Mistress’s outfit. As she mounted the stage Wanda reached down and removed the cloak to reveal that she was completely naked beneath it. Helen, along with many others at the back of the club, stood up to get a better look.
“slave rose,” Wanda was back on the microphone. “accepting the collar is not a step to be undertaken lightly. The collar, once accepted, cannot be removed. Do you give yourself willingly, and free of any conditions, to serve your Mistress from this day forth?”
“Then pledge your vows so that all can hear.”
“Mistress,” slave rose continued, “your slave kneels here before you, naked to symbolise that she is nothing, that she has nothing. It is your slave’s one devout wish to serve you from this day forth, to be an extension of your will, your humble servant. And so, on my knees, I meekly offer you my body, my soul, my heart. From this day forth your slave has no will but it’s your will, no wish but it’s your wish, no wants but they are your wants. Your slave begs you to accept this gift, to take her, to own her, to keep her forever.”
Slave rose knelt forward and kissed the tips of Mistress Angela’s boots.
“Mistress Angela,” Wanda continued. “Accepting a slave is not a step to be undertaken lightly. With ownership come responsibilities. Do you take her willingly, to be yours from this day forth?”
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