Date: Sun, 18 Jan 2015 19:33:12 -0500
From: Natalie Nessus <natalienessus@lycos.com>
Subject: The Famous Blue Raincoat

The Famous Blue Raincoat (F/F, D/s, BD, Spanking, Exhibition, Toys,
Consensual) by Natalie Nessus natalienessus@lycos.com
2001
============================================================================
Influenced by the
songs of Leonard Cohen, The Famous Blue Raincoat is a BDSM story you will never
forget.
=====================================================================
===========
The Famous Blue Raincoat Chapter 1: Sisters of Mercy
================================================================================
(Oh the
sisters of mercy, they are not departed or gone. They were waiting for me
when I thought that I just can't go on)  I purchased the blue raincoat in
1986 from the Camden markets as a celebration when I finally finished fashion
school. The coat was of soft leather, dyed navy blue and had those wonderful
marks and creases that demonstrated its age. I guessed it was from the
sixties or seventies and as I was into the retro sixties look at the time, I
bought it. It was a little tight over the chest when I closed it as I do have
large breasts but I was going to wear it mostly open any way. When I wore it
over a black skirt, turtle neck and boots with my long blonde hair hanging
loose on my shoulders, I fantasized I was Jane Asher or some terribly chic
chick from the mod era with a boyfriend in the Beatles.  My boyfriend at the
time sneered at it when I twirled around to show him. "It looks crummy,
Marianne," Lenny said in that exaggerated south London accent of his. "It's too
old, darling." "I don't care," I said defiantly, "I love it." Lenny had
left school as soon as he could and became a mechanic, focusing on motor
bikes. Now, at twenty-eight, he owned a small Ducati dealership, rode bikes all
the time while dressed in his brand new red leathers and black helmet.  He
and his friends would take off on weekend jaunts across the channel and ride
through France or Spain, leaving me behind in dreary London . I didn't like
his friends much, all lads who swilled lager and whistling at girls while
ogling my breasts, so I didn't care. However, I would have liked to have gone
to Paris with Lenny and enjoyed a romantic weekend but he didn't seem
interested. His only interest was quick sex and boasting to his mates. At
twenty-five, I wasn't interested in becoming his chief cook and bottle-washer that he
could give a quick unsatisfying poke to when he felt the urge but I didn't
know how to disengage from the relationship.  I wore the raincoat to
interview after interview as I tried to get a job in the fashion houses but the
nicer ones politely shooed me away while the others just laughed at me. In
desperation, I started looking at other jobs and ignored Lenny when he tried to
get me to work at his bike shop. He was also becoming very pushy about
moving in together and, I knew if I didn't get a job, I would have to give up my
little flat and do exactly that. Depressed, I trudged up the stairs to my
final interview for the day at `Cut' magazine, a fashion monthly that claimed
it was on the cutting edge of the new fashion. "Nice work," Nancy said as
she studied my portfolio. "How long have you been in London ?" She was
dressed entirely in black, her dark hair short and spiky but she somehow managed
to appear cool and elegant, especially with that refined accent. "Three
years," I said tiredly. "You haven't lost your accent," she observed as she
flicked through my designs. "Why should I?" I flared and she smiled. "
Everyone tries to be someone else in London while pretending they've been here all
their lives. You look and sound like a young woman from Liverpool ." "I am,
" I sighed, slumping back while I waited for her to push me out the door
into the London gloom. "I'm just me." "Well," Nancy said slowly, "we can't
pay you very much and you'll have to do a bit of everything." "What?" I
exclaimed. "You are giving me a job?" "I have to check it with Suzanne but I
think it'll be fine." I squealed in delight, leapt up and hugged her, then
embarrassed broke away. "I sorry," I rushed, "it's just that I've been
looking for a long time and this is so bloody fantastic and.." "All right, all
right," Nancy smiled, interrupting me. "Calm down. When can you start?" "
Tomorrow?" Nancy laughed and nodded. "Tomorrow is Friday. How about Monday?"
 I nodded and, stupidly, I felt a tear rolling down my cheek. "Thank you,"
I said as I wiped my eyes. Nancy patted me on the arm and she smiled. "Us
Liverpoolian birds have to stay together, eh?" she said in a thick accent and
I gaped at her. "As I said," she in her normal cultured accent with a
cheeky smile, "everyone tries to be someone else but I'm as Mersey as you,
love. Now dry your eyes and go and celebrate. As I said, I'll check with Suzanne
but I don't believe there will be a problem." "Thank you so much, Nancy ,"
 I gushed as she walked me to the door. "See you Monday, Marianne and, by
the way, just adore your raincoat."     The Famous Blue Raincoat Chapter 2:
Bird on a Wire
================================================================================(I have tried in my way to be free) Lenny wasn't that
happy when I excitedly told me my good news and I wondered for the umpteenth
time why I bothered staying with him, as he was always critical of me. I longed
for romance and love but knew our relationship wasn't going anywhere, as he
was just too chauvinistic. Monday saw me nervously walking into `Cut' but
Nancy welcomed me and made me feel right at home straight away by taking me
around and introducing me.  Everyone was friendly and really nice and I felt
quite at home when we stopped outside a closed office door. "Time to meet
Suzanne, the boss," Nancy said, knocking on the door and opening it. A dark
haired woman in her thirties, sitting behind a cluttered desk, looked up and
smiled as we entered. "Suzanne," Nancy said. "This is Marianne, the girl I
told you about? This is her first day." "Hello, Marianne," Suzanne said, "
Welcome to `Cut' magazine." "Thanks," I said, smiling at her and admiring
her clothes. Suzanne was dressed in style in a fashionable business suit and
soft silk blouse. Her jewelry said she had both money and class and, on top
of all that, she was extraordinarily beautiful. Suzanne smiled at me, her
eyes twinkling. "How long have you been in London ?" "Three years," I
answered, glancing at Nancy who smiled at me. "I know, I haven't lost the accent.
" Suzanne laughed. "I suppose it could be charming." She turned to Nancy .
"Have you thought of photographing her? She could be a model." Nancy
nodded. "Nice bone structure but not tall enough and too big in the chest." I
blushed as they casually discussed me but I knew that this industry used
models as property. The weeks flew as I threw myself into every thing I was told
to do and at the end of three weeks, Suzanne called me into her office. "You'
re doing very well, Marianne. Lucy is leaving to have her baby soon and I
would like you to move into her job. Interested?" she asked as she raised an
eyebrow.  Lucy was Suzanne's Editorial Assistant, and I was astonished at
the offer, as it was a great job. "Of course," I gasped. "I need someone with
an eye for detail and design. Don't get carried away, Marianne, it's
really just my assistant with a small pay rise." "Thank you so much, Suzanne," I
smiled and she regally waved a hand.  "Not at all, my dear," her dark eyes
searching mine deeply. "I think you'll do very well indeed." I sat in most
of the meetings and began to really understand and enjoy the publishing
business as well as enjoying working closely with Suzanne. Sometimes she could
be so warm while at other times she was cold, snappish and demanding but I
still loved it and began to work long hours just so I could keep up with her.
One Thursday evening Suzanne, Nancy and I sat at Suzanne's conference table
as Suzanne made her decision on the photographs Nancy had submitted for
this month's cover story. The models were in the clothes from a well-known
Knightsbridge designer and Nancy had posed them in strange belts and handcuffs
to illustrate the article called `Slave to Fashion'. Suzanne leaned back. "
They're all good, Nancy but I'm afraid I don't see a cover shot there." "
What about that one?" Nancy said tapping one picture while exhaling smoke from
her cigarette. Suzanne shook her head. "I want something arresting, a shot
people will talk about and will get people to buy our magazine. We do need
the circulation figures to increase." We sat in silence for a moment, all
three of us staring at the photographs spread across the table. "Any ideas?"
Nancy asked. "Anything in mind?" Suzanne stared out the window at the lights
of London . "I see a young woman's face, eyes wide open, gagged and hands
bound in front of her. A close up." Nancy nodded. "I can see it but we need
this tonight. What model owes you a favor?" Suzanne smiled coldly and I
shuddered inside as her eyes swept over me. "Why not Marianne?" Nancy
inspected me. "Suppose she'd do, and she has nice eyes. I've got some props
downstairs so we could do it now." "Excellent," Suzanne said, "then let's do it."
 Wait a minute, I wanted to scream, no one has asked me! Don't I get a say
in this? I sat nervously waiting for Nancy to return while Suzanne smiled
strangely at me, her long fingernails tapping on the table. Suddenly, she
stood next to me and tilted my face up and I blushed as she examined my face.  "I
'll do your eyes," she said matter of factly, opening a cosmetic bag and
started applying eye shadow. She had finished when Nancy returned carrying
her digital camera, portable lights and a bag. "Hey," she said, noticing my
eyes, "that looks absolutely fantastic. "I used to be a stylist remember,"
Suzanne said while she applied lip-gloss to my lips. For some reason I was
trembling slightly as Suzanne's warm body pressed against mine. "Here," Nancy
said as she handed some leather straps to Suzanne.  "Hands," Suzanne said,
looking me directly in the eyes and I held my hands out to her so she could
quickly buckle the restricting straps around my wrists. "Try to move,"
Suzanne said softly and I did but my hands were tightly bound. "Good, now open
wide." I felt strange as Suzanne inserted a white plastic ball in my mouth
and buckled the straps behind my head, carefully pulling my hair over it and
arranging it. A delicious feeling swept of me as I realised I was not in
control, that these two women could do anything they liked to me. "Hold your
hands in front of your chin," Nancy directed as the camera towards me. "Shit!
Her shoulders are in the shot so her blouse is showing!" "I'll undo it,"
Suzanne said, standing in front of me and casually undoing the buttons to my
white blouse while gazing steadily into my eyes. She smiled as she opened
it to reveal my large breasts cradled in a simple white cotton bra. "Poor
choice in lingerie," she said and I blushed, "an ugly bra, darling. We are
supposed to be a fashion magazine." Her cool fingers casually grazed over my
breasts and, my whole body trembling, I knew my panties were soaked.  Suzanne
peeled the blouse down from my shoulders and rolled the sleeves up so my bra
was completely exposed to the two women. "I can still see the bra straps,"
Nancy said, the camera held to her face. Suzanne mockingly smiled at me as
her fingers slid the bra straps down; her fingers cool against my burning
flesh. "That's better, she looks naked now," Nancy called and the camera
flashed. Both women stared at the camera screen critically, leaving me standing,
gagged and hands bound in front of me with my heaving breasts exposed in my
bra. "The red lips look fantastic against the white gag," commented Nancy
and Suzanne nodded. "I could superimpose a lipstick mark on the gag and that'
s where we could put the title of the article." "Let's see," Suzanne
said, standing in front of me as she applied lipstick to her lips. Her perfume
washed over me and my knees were weak as she gently kissed the ball gag, her
lips so close to mine that a little groan formed in the back of my throat. "
There," She said to Nancy , "what do you think?" "Perfect. Try to make
your eyes wider," she said to me, "and look frightened." The camera flashed
again and both women examined the screen. "That's great," Nancy said,
gathering her things. "I'll go downstairs and do the art." Without a backward
glance she left and Suzanne smiled at me coldly as she walked around me,
inspecting me and I trembled under her gaze. "Have you ever wanted to own someone,
own them completely?" she said softly as she circled me. "I do," her soft
voice burned in my ears. "Of course, the person must want to be owned, to be
loved completely and to give up control. I believe that's you, isn't it?"
her breath brushed my ear as she whispered and I moaned behind the gag. "It'
s a delicious feeling isn't it?" she mocked. "To give up all control to
your owner." She studied my heaving breasts. "So plump and creamy, they would
look so much better in black, don't you think?" I tried to tear my eyes
away but she held my jaw and turned my face to hers. "Such a slut," she
mocked. "Your nipples are like little pencils and I know if I lifted that skirt of
yours you would be soaked, your pussy is leaking like a river, isn't it,
slut?" I tried to turn my burning face away but she held my chin firmly. "I'm
not going to lift your skirt, slut," she whispered, "because I know what I'
ll find, boring panties under pantyhose and sodden with your juices. Nod if
that's correct, slut." Her steely eyes held mind and, trembling as I fell
deeply into her eyes, I nodded. Scornfully, she released my chin, stepped
back and perched against the table, arms folded. "Thought so. Darling, panties
under pantyhose is so provincial," she laughed coldly and moved forward to
unbuckle the gag. I opened and shut my mouth to remove the stiffness as she
released my wrists. I fumbled with the buttons of my blouse, head down,
hoping the floor would swallow me up. "Go home, Marianne," Suzanne said softly.
"Thank you for your help tonight. I think the cover will be excellent." I
felt her eyes on me as I struggled into my blue raincoat and almost ran out
of the office.  A taxi took me straight to Lenny's where I almost attacked
him, kissing him passionately until he responded by slipping his hand up my
skirt and I imagined it was Suzanne. Moments later, I was moaning and
groaning as Lenny fucked me, his cock sliding in and out of my wet pussy until he
shuddered and came, leaving me completely unsatisfied. Sullenly, I watched
him go to the bathroom to get rid of the condom, then he wandered to past me
on his way to the television. The sound of motorbikes racing soon filled the
flat while I wondered if I could masturbate without him noticing. Instead, I
slowly dressed and walked past him as he lay on the sofa watching some bike
race. "Not staying, love?" he asked absently, eyes glued to the bikes
going around and around some circuit. "No," I said as I opened the door. "I'm
off with the lads tomorrow. See you on Monday." I stalked away; sure he
would gloatingly tell his friends how he had given me a quick poke before his
trip.     The Famous Blue Raincoat Chapter 3: Chelsea Hotel No.2
================================================================================(I need
you, I don't need you and all of that jiving around)  I spent ages the next
morning trying to decide what to wear to work. I had tossed and turned all
night, images of Suzanne floating through my mind. Even though I was
incredibly frustrated and aroused, I didn't masturbate as, strangely, I thought it
wouldn't be at all satisfying. Finally, I selected a filmy black lace bra,
sheer black pantyhose, black skirt and a cream silk blouse with a short jacket.
Slipping into high heels instead of my usual Docs, I critically examined
myself in the mirror and blushed a little when I saw the dark shadow on my
blouse caused by the black bra underneath.  Nancy waved the cover under my eyes
as soon as I got in as I was removing my blue raincoat and I blushed deeply
when I saw it. "You look fantastic," Nancy smiled. "This will cause some
talk and some sales." She stopped and looked me up and down. "Big date
tonight with your boyfriend?" she asked shrewdly.  "A date after work but not
with Lenny," I stammered and started to walk away. "Oooh," she called after
me, "tell me more." Suzanne was warm but distant with me all day as we
worked and I felt a small sense of relief that she wasn't going to mention the
previous night. Strangely, I felt very disappointed as well but I focused on
my job and assisted her throughout the morning. When she left for lunch with
someone, I felt jealous but kept working, eating a sandwich at my desk.
Suzanne returned mid afternoon and immediately vanished into her office until
the evening when I was the only one left in the office, everybody else
departed for the weekend. I switched my computer off, tidied my desk, and slipped
into my raincoat and, taking a deep breath, I nervously tapped on Suzanne's
door.  She was seated at her desk, smoking a cigarette and gazing out the
window at the lights spread before her. Turning, she tapped some ash into the
ashtray and coolly examined me. "Everyone left for the weekend?" I nodded my
heart pounding. "Yes," I croaked. "Yes, what?" she snapped, stubbing the
cigarette out while I looked at her in confusion. "I'll explain it once.
When we are alone you refer to me as Mistress or Madame, even Milady is
acceptable while I will simply call you slut.  Understand?" I looked at her open
mouthed, my pantyhose wet from moment she said `slut' and my knees weak and
trembling. Suzanne leaned forward and cupped her face on her hand that
rested on the desk, her dark eyes looking me up and down. "Of course," she said
with a wintry smile, "I could be mistaken and you don't want me to own you.
Nor do you want me to control you and tell you what to do every moment of
your life. Yes, I could be terribly wrong and this could be a tragic mistake.
 You should yell at me in that provincial accent of yours, resign and, of
course, slam the door on the way out." The only sound in the room for a long
moment was my ragged breathing as I trembled before her until she stood,
walked in front of her desk and stood there with arms folded. "I think we both
know," she said quietly, "that this is not a tragic mistake. Is it, slut?"
Suzanne's cold voice echoed in my head, that delicious feeling of submission
washed over my whole body and me tingled. My face burned but I understood
myself better at that moment then I had ever before. "No, Mistress,' I
croaked, face burning and body trembling. Suzanne smiled slightly and she calmly
arranged herself in the visitor's chair, crossing her legs so the nylon of
her hose rasped. "Strip down to your underwear, slut," she said calmly. I
gasped as arousal, embarrassment and submission rolled over me and slowly
undressed. Face burning I stood in front of her in my bra, sheer pantyhose and
high heels as she looked me up and down.  "Turn around slowly, slut," she
said and, trembling I did. "Hands on your head," she snapped and I complied. "
Lovely," she murmured to herself as I pirouetted before her. "Are you
aroused, slut?" "Yes Mistress," I murmured, face down as I twirled before her
with my hands still on my head, knowing my breasts were jiggling in the black
lace bra.  "Stand still. How do you know you are aroused, slut?" "My
vagina, Mistress," I answered hesitantly, "is moist." "No," she interrupted me
sharply. "Not vagina, cunt or pussy. Say it!" "Mistress," I said in a low
voice, face red, "my cunt is wet." "Louder." "Mistress, my cunt is wet."
My voice rang in the room and she smiled at me in triumph. "Come here and
show me," Suzanne said as she extended her hand so it was a fist.  "Hump
yourself on my fist, slut." Face burning, my breathing rough and ragged, I
straddled her fist and rubbed my nylon covered pussy against it while I kept my
hands on my head. I almost came at her touch and I rose closer and closer to
orgasm as she looked up at me as I writhed on her fist. "You are such a slut,
" she murmured and I gasped as the pleasure rose within me until she
removed her hand. It was a loss, I was so close and she smiled cruelly at me. "You
come when I say so. Remove the bra and get the scissors so you can cut the
pantyhose. I want your pussy exposed. Quickly!" It felt strange walking
through the deserted office in my pantyhose, heels and bra to get the scissors
and stranger still to cut the crotch out of my pantyhose so my pussy was in
the open.  My large breasts hung free as I stood before her. "On the desk,"
she snapped and I lay on it quickly. "Legs apart, I want to examine your
cunt." I lay exposed as she looked but did not touch. "Nice plump lips but all
this hair has to go, slut." "Yes Mistress," I murmured, head turned away
in my secret humiliation and my hair spreading on the desk. "Put your
raincoat on, slut. We are going." I struggled to do the raincoat up and Suzanne
laughed when she saw how my breasts were squeezed together as I closed the
buttons. Ordered to leave it undone below the waist, she suddenly pulled me to
her and kissed me, her lips crushing mine as her tongue took ownership of my
mouth. I felt her fingers brush my pussy as we stood there in that wild
embrace and gasped when her fingers invaded me. "So wet," she breathed in my
ear. "Yes Mistress," I moaned. Her finger danced on my mouth. "Taste yourself,
" she instructed as her finger slid in and out of my mouth. "Good slut,"
she whispered. "Now you will get to come, darling." Her fingers stroked and
caressed my aching pussy as she held me in a tight embrace. Her lips crushed
mine again as I rose closer and closer until I cried out with the power,
the explosion of the type I had never felt before. Suzanne made me play with
myself in the darkness in the back of the taxi as we drove to her house in
Chelsea . My clothes and my handbag had been left behind in a cupboard in her
office and I was still dressed in the raincoat, ripped pantyhose and heels.
I was sure the taxi driver knew something was going on but I kept stroking
and caressing myself under the cover of the blue raincoat.  Suzanne leaned
over and kissed me once and I saw the drivers eyes widen in the rear view
mirror. "Are you wet, slut?" she whispered softly in my ear, her warm breath
caressing my neck. "Yes Mistress," I whispered in return and she smiled in
the darkness as London crawled past. As we stood on the pavement looking up at
her house, Suzanne said, "I call it the Chelsea Hotel ," and laughed. "
Leonard Cohen," she explained when I looked puzzled. "I certainly have to
educate you." The house was warm and gorgeous but Suzanne didn't waste anytime
showing me around. "The bathroom is in there," she said. "Run my bath. Now,
slut!" she snapped and I rushed to do what she said, my raincoat rustling
as I hurried.  "Take that coat off," Suzanne said on my return. "I'll have
a Gin and tonic, you'll find the drinks there." Practically naked while she
remained clothed, I did as instructed and handed her the drink. As she
sipped it, she pointed at the floor near her feet and I sank down onto the
carpet. Slipping her shoes off, she sighed and offered me her foot. "I need a
massage. Gently." The bath was ready and she pulled herself to her feet. "The
guest bathroom is there. You can have a quick shower as well as removing
that hair," Suzanne said, glancing down at my pussy. "When you are finished,
you will wait for me on your knees in my bedroom. Understood?" "Yes Mistress,
" I said quickly and she stared deeply into my eyes.  "You will do
everything I say, slut," she said, gently weighing my breasts with her hands. "The
first time you don't do what I say or, worse, lie to me or disobey me, this
is over, finished. Clear?" I felt an immediate sense of loss and I knew I
did not want this ever to end. "Yes, Mistress." Feeling so vulnerable, so
open and more naked than ever before with my smooth pubic mound and my
protruding plump pussy lips, I knelt at the floor of my Mistress's bed. After an
eternity, she swirled into the room in a black negligee, a glass of wine in
her hand and her perfume washing over the room. "I prefer the room like this,"
 Suzanne said as she dimmed the lights. "Remember that." "Yes Mistress." "
Have you licked a woman before, slut?" she asked as she arranged herself on
the bed and I shook my head. "I will teach you to please me, slut. You don'
t get to come again until I have got my fill. Come to me," she said softly,
patting the bed and I lay beside her. "You look like a little girl with
your bald cunt," she said, smiling and I blushed. "Still coy and I do enjoy
your little blushes," she murmured as she lowered her face to mine and her
lips tenderly caressed mine.  After a few moments, she pointed down at her
pussy and I slowly crawled down to begin my education. Many hours later as I lay
next to her in the dark listening to her deep breathing as she slept, I
played the events of the night over and over in my mind. My fingers wonderingly
touched my lips where the taste of my Mistress remained and I recalled the
many orgasms I had helped her to reach while I remained denied, waiting for
her instructions. She stirred in her sleep and pushed against me and I
snuggled against her thinking, as I fell asleep, that I was the luckiest girl
alive and, maybe, tomorrow my Mistress may let me come. After a late brunch,
Suzanne looked me up and down. "I have to find something for you to wear.
Follow me." I waited patiently as she rummaged through her wardrobe and she
tossed me a pair of black jeans, a fisherman's pullover and socks and gym shoes.
"Try those," she said and I pulled the jeans on without underwear and,
although a bit loose around the waist and long in the leg, if I rolled them up
I was presentable. The bulky fisherman's jumper hid my loose breasts and the
shoes slipped on easily. My blue raincoat completed the outfit and,
self-conscious with no underwear, I followed my Mistress into the grey morning. The
first stop was the hairdressers and with no input from me what so ever,
Suzanne dictated how my hair s was to be cut and styled. I gasped when I saw my
reflection; I looked so stylish, so elegant with my hair shorter. Next on
the list was a beautician where a young gay guy made up my face to Suzanne's
directions. Again, I was shocked as I gaped at the reflection. "She's very
beautiful," he said to Suzanne, fluffing my hair slightly as he studied the
reflection. Suzanne stared at the reflection. "I know," she said softly. "I
know." With the instructions on how to make my face up firmly in my
raincoat pocket, Suzanne led the way into a lingerie boutique. "You will never buy
M. & S.  again," she said sternly as we wandered through the racks as she
selected panties, bras and slips for me to wear. "No Mistress," I said and
the sales assistant looked sharply at us in surprise while Suzanne beamed
proudly. More shops and more clothes and I was trying a black leather skirt and
top on when Suzanne suddenly appeared in the dressing room so I stood still
while she inspected me. "Beautiful," she breathed. "Pull up the skirt so I
can see your bald pussy, slut," she said softly and I immediately complied.
I marveled at how easily I now followed instructions but I also knew I
wanted to, no needed to, as disobedience would cause me to lose Suzanne. So I
stood in the changing room of the busy store, displaying my newly shaven pussy
to my new mistress, separated from the hubbub and eyes of the ordinary women
who milled outside by one thin curtain. Suzanne insisted I wear the new
leather skirt and top with new boots and my old favorite blue raincoat and, as
we left the shops, I could not recall a moment in my life when I had been
happier. We lunched at a fashionable restaurant where everyone seemed to know
Suzanne, dropping by the table to talk while frankly inspecting me. I said
nothing unless spoken to and always answered carefully, as I didn't want to
embarrass Suzanne.  "I'm very pleased with you," she said as she sipped her
wine, a soft smile on her beautiful face. "Thank you Mistress," I said,
eyes lowered. "I try hard to please you." "Why?" I thought carefully but the
answer was obvious. "Because I care for you very deeply, Mistress." Suzanne
sipped her wine thoughtfully. "Thank you," she said simply. We sat in
silence for a moment and then she cleared her throat. "There is one thing," she
said softly. "I am not going to demand it, I'm going to ask you and you
can say no to me this one time." I looked up and saw she was misty eyed. "
Will you go to a speech coach to remove your accent?" "Would it please you,
Mistress?" "Yes," Suzanne said and then said in a rush, "It will make it
easier for you to fit in for our future life." She tailed off and waited
anxiously.  "I will do it, Mistress," I said. "Are you sure because from what
Nancy said you were very enthusiastic about keeping your Mersey identity?" "
That was before I met you, Mistress. You are my identity now," I said simply
and a single tear rolled down Suzanne's cheek.     The Famous Blue Raincoat
Chapter 4: You Know Who I Am
================================================================================(all of the moments that we will be. You
know who I am...) I think we were a little tipsy from the wine when we
staggered into Suzanne's Chelsea house with all our packages. Suzanne dropped the
packages, grabbed me and kissed me passionately. "Lick me," she breathed and
I slid to my knees, slowly raising her skirt and, after pulling her panties
to one side, buried my lips to her wet pussy. She came so easily. But she
did not allow me to come. The afternoon drifted by as we read the newspapers,
listened to music and talked. I told her everything, not holding anything
back as I discovered I could not lie to her so I told her things about myself
that I had never told anyone.  As I soaped her back in the bath, she sang
softly to herself and I wondered how I had spent my life without this woman,
my mistress. Suzanne smiled at me as she stepped from the bath and her
fingers lightly caressed my bald pussy as I toweled her, causing a soft moan to
escape me. "You are such a slut, darling," she said, smiling, her body pink
and rosy from the bath. Suzanne dressed in slinky black leather pants, black
silk top and leather bomber jacket with high heel boots. She picked a pair
of tan stockings from our shopping, a caramel garter belt, and stiletto
shoes, handing them to me. "Put these on after you've done your face." As I
followed her instructions, I heard her order a taxi. "Hands behind your back,"
she said when she returned and a delicious feeling rippled through as I did,
feeling her strap my elbows and my wrists together so my shoulders were
pulled back. Suzanne smiled as she strapped a black leather collar around my
throat because she had noticed my ragged breathing. As a final touch, she
applied rouge to my nipples and to my labia, even my clit and led me to the
mirror so I could see myself. I blushed at the reflection, as I stood naked
except for stockings, high heels and garter belt, my large breasts appearing
even larger by having my shoulders forced back and my nipples and slit
emphasized by the rouge. "We are going to a party, little slut," Suzanne said as
she studied my reflection. Going out, I thought in shock? "Only speak when
spoken to and you must keep your legs apart all night so everyone can see what
a slut you are.  Understand?" "Yes Mistress," I croaked, wet with arousal.
Suzanne draped a long black cape around me to cover my nakedness, drawing it
closed around my neck and she led me to the waiting taxi. Remembering her
words, I sat in the back seat with my legs apart and I felt Suzanne's hand
slip under the cape as she gave the driver an address down by the river. I
felt so vulnerable, so submissive and so exposed that I was sure I was leaving
wet patches on the cape where I sat on it, especially since Suzanne's
fingers occasionally flicked my aching clit. We stopped at a large warehouse and
Suzanne led the way in and I saw it was a dimly lit club of some sort with
music playing and women dancing. I realised there were only women and I gasped
in shock as Suzanne removed by cape and casually gave it to the young woman
at the door.  From her bag, Suzanne retrieved a leash, snapped it on the
collar and led me naked across the dance floor to a group of tables. Women
stopped dancing and watched us as we passed, some greeted Suzanne by name but
their eyes never left my body as my face burned in humiliation and shame. We
reached a table and Suzanne pulled a chair slightly away from it and
gestured for me to sit. I did so with my arms strapped behind me with my legs apart
as she tied the leash to the back of the chair. Without a word, she
strolled over to the bar, leaving me vulnerable and exposed while she chatted with
a group of women. Two women stood before me, their eyes roaming over my
body. "Fantastic tits," one said and the other nodded, her eyes staring at my
open crotch.  "She's got lipstick or something on her pussy," she said and
they giggled as, arm in arm, they walked away. Suzanne accompanied another
woman returned and they sat at the table, drinks in their hands. "She's very
lovely, Suzanne," the woman commented, her eyes appraising me. "Yes, she is
and she's such a slut. Aren't you?" she said, staring coldly at me. "Yes
Mistress," I whispered. "What?" "I am a slut, Mistress," I said more
loudly and the other woman laughed.  Suzanne leaned over and slipped her finger
into my pussy. "She's so wet," she smirked as I gasped. "I could fist her
so easily. Look," Suzanne said and her companion leaned over to watch as
Suzanne slipped two more fingers into me, sawing them in and out as I moaned. "
You like that, slut?" "Yes Mistress," I moaned, eyes closing. Suddenly her
hand stopped, the fingers withdrew and I felt something moving on my stomach.
I looked down and saw she had written something on my stomach in lipstick. "
I know who you are," Suzanne said, leaning close and kissing me softly on
the ear. Suddenly, she and her companion stood. "We're going to dance," she
announced and both walked away. As they danced, some women gathered around
me, staring down at me. "What does it say?" one asked, pointing at the
lipstick marks on my stomach.  "Feel the slut," another supplied the answer and
a black woman squatted in front of me, her fingers tugging at my pussy for a
moment until she slid two fingers into me. I moaned as another stood behind
me and cupped my breasts.  "I always wanted to have tits this big," she
giggled as the black woman ran her fingers in and out. "She's so fucking wet,"
 she said, wiping her fingers over my breasts and they walked away laughing
as I sat in shame. It was like that all night, fingers caressing me, wiping
my own juices over my body and my face, constantly bringing me to a higher
and high pitch of arousal but never coming.  Finally, Suzanne released the
leash and led me to a bowl in the corner of the club. "Squat and pee, dear.
You must have to go by now." I looked at her in shock and realised the whole
room had become silent as everyone watched. Face burning, I squatted over
the metal bowl and released my urine in a stream as everyone laughed and
clapped. A smile of triumph on her face, Suzanne laid the cape around me once
again and, suddenly seizing me crushed her velvet lips against mine in a
soul-claiming kiss.  Back at Chelsea, I knelt with my arms still bound and
serviced my Mistress's pussy, her dark pubic hair slick with juices and I realised
she had become aroused by controlling me. Proudly, I gave her several
orgasms and in the early hours of the morning, she released my arms and allowed me
the delicious humiliation of masturbating to orgasm in front of her. "You
know who I am," I whispered into her mane of dark hair as we held each other
before sleep. "And who is that, darling?" she answered drowsily. "Yours."
   The Famous Blue Raincoat Chapter 5: So Long Marianne
================================================================================(Come over to
the window, my little darling, I'd like to try to read your palm) The subject
of Lenny came up on Monday night. Although I hadn't returned to my flat, I
assumed his messages would be waiting for me on my answering machine but I
didn't know what to say, how to explain my new hairstyle or look. I had worn
the new clothes to work that morning and Nancy had looked me up and down and
softly whistled. "A change of lifestyle over the weekend, Marianne?" she
asked.  "Love your hair and you look gorgeous." Suzanne and I had arrived at
work at different times and she treated me exactly the same way she had the
Monday before, although I felt her eyes on me from time to time. That
night, as I sat by her feet gently massaging them while she smoked a cigarette,
she asked, "What are you going to do about that boyfriend of yours?" "I don'
t know, Mistress," I said softly. "I don't want to hurt him." Suzanne
sighed. "Sweet gentle passive Marianne," she said as she blew smoke into the
air. "Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind." She looked down at me and
smiled softly. "I'll do it for you. Would you like that?" "Yes Mistress." "
Call him and invite him to dinner at your flat tomorrow night and I'll come
to.  I want to see your little place before you move out to live with me.
You do want to live with me?" My heart leapt and I beamed up at her. "Oh
yes, Mistress, more than anything." Gently, she patted my cheek. "Sweet
Marianne but such a slut underneath," she murmured. Lenny wanted to know where I
had been. "I've been really busy at work," I explained, "with my new job.
Anyway, I want you to come around tomorrow night for dinner as I'm having my
boss over." "Quaint," Suzanne said as she wandered through my little flat
and I flinched in embarrassment as I suddenly saw it as it was. This was not
Suzanne's Chelsea Hotel but a cold cramped flat and I all ready yearned to
return to the comforts of Chelsea where I felt so at home, where I could be
true to myself.  Suzanne bubbled along over dinner and I could see she
charmed Lenny in every way, although he kept glancing at me from time to time. "You
're quiet, darling," he said once as Suzanne opened another bottle of
wine. "Just tired," I said softly. "She's all right, isn't she," he said,
nodding at Suzanne who was searching the kitchen for new glasses. My heart
surged when I saw her in the golden light of the kitchen, stretching up to the
cupboard and I wanted her to make me feel safe, to take me home.  At the end
of the dinner after Suzanne had described her first motorbike experience to
an enthralled Lenny, she suddenly announced that she would clean up so Lenny
and I could catch up. Lenny half-heartedly protested, glancing at me but I
kept my eyes lowered. As I carried plates into the kitchen, Suzanne turned
to me, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Lenny was in the other room,
sorting through CDs. "Suck his cock," she said to me calmly and I looked at
her in shock. "When I come out of here, I want to see you kneeling in front
of him and sucking his cock. You've done it before, do it again! No ifs, no
buts, you just do it!" she hissed.  "Yes Mistress," I said, eyes lowered and
she gently tilted my head up. "It's for the best, darling." The room was
half-lit by the candles still on the dining table and Lenny was standing next
to the window, looking down onto the street when I came back in.  He
started to talk about what he and the lads had got up to in Spain when I cut him
short by kissing him passionately while dishes rattled in the little kitchen.
My fingers brushed his cock and it was hard so I unzipped him, to free it
so I could get this terrible moment over with. "What are you doing?" he
hissed, eyes darting to the kitchen but I just smiled up at him as I sank to my
knees. He groaned as I started to suck him, a low guttural moan when my
tongue caressed the head of his cock. I sensed a movement as something brushed
past me but, although I kept sucking, I could see Suzanne's legs as she stood
next to Lenny. "What the fuck!" he exclaimed. "It's all right, Lenny," I
heard her say. "Look at her, she's such a slut, isn't she?" He moaned as
the moment obviously aroused him even more. I felt Suzanne's hand push me
back and, still kneeling, I saw her hand curl around his cock, slowly moving up
and down. "Look at her, Lenny," she whispered as her hand moved. "Kneeling
there so you can come all over her face. Such a slut." He groaned and I saw
her other hand had slipped behind him. "Feels nice, doesn't it?" she said
in his ear as her hand kept up its relentless movement. "She's a slut but,
Lenny, she's my slut." His body tensed and I knelt, waiting.  "It's time
to say goodbye, to say so long Marianne." He groaned loudly, grunted and
shuddered and soon his sperm was flying through the air to land on my face,
running down my cheeks as Suzanne firmly milked him. There was an uncomfortable
silence as Lenny tucked himself back in, glaring down at me as I knelt
before him with his cum running down my face. "You fucking bitch!" he said
hoarsely. "Calm down, Lenny," soothed Suzanne. "You can't give her what I can,
what she needs. It's time to say goodbye." He raised his hand to slap me
and I waited for it. "Don't," Suzanne said quietly. "There's no point."
They locked eyes for a long moment and then he stormed out, glaring at me for a
moment and then slammed the door. I never saw him again. Suzanne lit a
cigarette, inhaled deeply and blew smoke through the room then smiled down at
me. "Clean that disgusting mess of your face, darling," she said brightly. "
Then we'll pack your things so you won't have to come back here again."
The Famous Blue Raincoat Chapter 6: Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye
================================================================================(I'
m not looking for another as I wander in my time, walk me to the corner,
our steps will always rhyme ) Suzanne and I were together for nine wonderful
years. Such sweet and sad memories carry me through my life. I remember
evenings at her house, snuggled together as we talked and kissed softly, such
tenderness, such love. Other times, she would demand I bend over the bed, hands
bound while she caned my bottom until the tears ran down my face. I
remember the time, soon after our relationship became public, she took me again to
that private club down by the river, pushed me face down over a table and
fucked me with an obscenely pink strap on while the audience cheered.  There
was the other time she took me, naked under my skirt, to a seedy tattoo shop
where she had some old man tattoo a black rose next to my pussy. He kept
staring at my bald cunt while he worked my face crimson as people wandered in
and out of the shop as Suzanne smoked and smiled down at me.  Another time,
instead of going home, we drove to the airport and flew to Paris for a
wonderful weekend of love, sex and submission. I remember being spanked in the
hotel while the city of Paris spread out below me. We worked well together and
I became editor while she remained as publisher.  `Cut' magazine was a real
force, the voice of alternative fashion. After a one successful year, tipsy
with wine, she informed me I was going to get pregnant so we could raise a
daughter together. She just hadn't figured out how to do it but it would
happen, she assured me. Such a crazy beautiful woman but her plan failed, as
she became very sick. It came in a rush and the diagnosis hit me, a sense of
loss that overwhelmed me.  Suzanne became very ill so quickly and I spent all
my time nursing her at the Chelsea house. She lost so much weight as well
as her energy but she never lost her love of life. I read the poems of
Leonard Cohen to her while she lay in our bed, her long dark hair splayed out of
the white pillow. One morning as the weak Sun was trying to stir some life
into the city, she took my hand, a faint smile on her lips and for a moment I
saw the old Suzanne.  "Thank you," she said simply, squeezing my hand as
tears fell from my eyes. "I remember you well at the Chelsea Hotel ," she
quoted softly and smiled.  And died. I held her and sobbed, my whole body
rocked with pain and loss as the noise of the living city sounded from the
streets outside. The one reason for my life had gone, the one guiding and
directive force in my life had vanished and I was all alone. When I finished crying
for Suzanne, I cried for myself.  Everyone from the fashion industry was at
the funeral and I sat in the front row, so alone, so sad and so afraid. It
was a small church and the grey and dismal day outside contrasted with the
flowers that lay around the coffin.  At last, it was my time to speak and the
church was absolutely silent as I stood in front of the microphone, everyone
wondering what I was going to say. My hands were trembling as I looked at
the small white cards I had carefully printed my speech on and a sudden image
of a sardonic smiling Suzanne flashed in front of my eyes. I took a deep
breath and tossed the cards into the air and the audience gasped.  "That was
my speech," I said, my voice breaking slightly. "All nice things about
fashion and the world but this is what she would have wanted to hear." Tears
pricking my eyes, I began to recite.  "Now Suzanne takes your hand And she leads
you to the river She is wearing rags and feathers From Salvation Army
counters And the sun pours down like honey On our lady of the harbor And she
shows you where to look Among the garbage and the flowers There are heroes in
the seaweed There are children in the morning They are leaning out for love
And they will lean that way forever While Suzanne holds the mirror And you
want to travel with her And you want to travel blind And you know that you can
trust her For she's touched your perfect body with her mind"  The church
was hushed and I knew the tears were rolling down my face and even the black
veil no longer hid them. Trembling, I removed the hat and veil and stood
proudly staring out at the audience, my face streaked with tears. "And I loved
her so," I said and I could hear someone crying in the church while others
sniffled. "I love her so much and I know she loved me. Goodbye, Suzanne, I don'
t know how I will live without you."     The Famous Blue Raincoat Chapter
7: Seems So Long Ago, Nancy
================================================================================(It seems so long ago, none of us were
strong)  I quit the magazine and retreated to the Chelsea house that Suzanne had
left me, wandering the rooms and touching her things. The songs of Leonard
Cohen were on constantly and I read all her books, learning and devouring
every last vestige of her. Slowly, I rebuilt my life as I learned to take
control and make decisions but I was always alone and I always missed her. The
famous blue raincoat hung alone in the wardrobe but occasionally I would take
it out just to feel it and to remember. After a almost a year, I was lying in
the bath, staring at my body as I remembered the things she used to do to
me and suddenly it seemed to be another person that had achieved that
ecstasy. My eyes were drawn to my pubic hair that I had grown back but kept trimmed
so I could always see the black rose tattoo and idly wondered if I would
ever masturbate again. It was at that moment I decided to take control of my
life, to stop regretting and to move forward while always remembering.
Feverishly, I threw myself back into design, working long hours and totally
focused on finishing a complete collection. A friend of Suzanne's helped me to
find a financial backer and my label was launched six months later.  Nervously,
I waited backstage until the last models took my hands and walked with me
out onto the catwalk to the glare of lights and thunderous applause. I looked
around at the audience, recognizing many as they stood to applaud and I
knew I had finally moved on. "Thank you all so much," I said in the cultured
voice that was a lasting legacy of Suzanne. Later, exhausted after
circulating through the crowd, I stood in a corner and sipped champagne when a voice
made me turn around. "Darling, you look and sound like you belong here." I
whirled to see a smiling but older Nancy. "I've always been in London ," I
smiled. "I come from London." We both squealed and hugged each other,
laughing and wiping eyes. "I thought you lived in New York ?" I asked. "You still
have your accent," I mocked. "Darling, Americans are such suckers for a
good British accent." She held me at arm length and looked me up and down. "
Marianne, you look fantastic as usual and the collection is stunning. Suzanne
would have been so proud," she added quietly. "Thank you," I said softly,
eyes pricking. "So, how are you really?" "Better," I said brightly. "
Getting better every day." "Good," Nancy said, hugging me. "God, it's good to
see you. You see that man in the black suit over there?" Nancy pointed at a
man who waved at her. As she waved back, she said, "That's my husband." "You
're married?" I said incredulously. "I know, stupid of me but he actually
loves me so what could I do?" Nancy laughed again then a serious look
appeared on her face. "What about you? You got anyone?" I shook my head. "Have
you been with anyone since you lost her?" Again, I shook my head, tears
prickling. "Marianne," Nancy said, seizing my arms and gazing steadily into my
eyes, "it won't ever be the same but it can be different. She would have
wanted you to live life, you know," she added quietly and I looked away,
blinking. "I was her oldest friend, Marianne and do you know what she would say to
you if she could be here right now?" The lump in my throat felt huge but I
manage to say, "No, what?" "Nice collection, darling, but you can't fuck
clothes." Nancy started to smile and I couldn't help but smile back until we
were both laughing and hugging.  That night, I sat in front of the crackling
fire and realised Nancy was right, Suzanne would have told me how pathetic
I was, how useless and how I should get on with it. I was smiling wryly to
myself when the doorbell rang. "Who is it?" I said into the intercom. "It's
Jane from `Cut' magazine, we had arranged an interview? I'm a little early
but I thought it would be all right." I had forgotten I had agreed for my
old magazine to feature my collection.  "That's all right," I said wondering
if I looked all right as I was just wearing a black silk pants suit. "
Please come in," I said as I opened the door.  Jane was a young dark haired
woman, about twenty-five years of age and dressed in wool skirt, shapeless jumper
and grey coat. "Thank you, this is very nice," she said looking around. "
Thank you. In here would be best, I think," I said leading the way. "Who's
that singing?" she said as she sat on the sofa. "Leonard Cohen. Would you
care for some white wine? I'm having one." "Thank you, that would be nice."
Jane took her coat off and she seemed to be nervous around me, her fingers
trembled as I handed her the glass.  "Now," I said briskly, leaning back in
the chair as the fire crackled, "what do you want to know?" "I just wanted
to confirm some facts," she said, eyes dropping to her notes. "I've done a
lot of research." "Really?" I smiled, raising an eyebrow. "Yes," she said
and she blushed. "The magazine wants you to be on the cover, that's
exciting, isn't it?' she rushed on as if to cover some embarrassment.  "I've been
on the cover before." "I know," Jane said softly and pulled out the old
cover, my gagged wide-eyed face staring up at me. "God," I laughed, "I haven'
t seen that for years." I sat still for a moment remembering. "You were
very beautiful," she whispered. "Thank you," I said, staring at the Suzanne'
s lipstick mark on the white ball-gag. "You still are," Jane murmured, eyes
down and I looked up.  "Thank you again," I said slowly, watching her. "
What other facts would you like to confirm?" "You worked a long time with the
founder of the magazine?" "Suzanne and I were lovers," I said firmly and
she gave a sharp intake of breath. "Is that confirming something for you?" I
said and she nodded.  We sat in silence for a moment, Leonard Cohen singing
`Famous Blue Raincoat' in the background and I sipped my wine as I watched
her breasts rise and fall in the shapeless jumper. Jane was quite beautiful
in a dark gipsy-like way; about the same age I was when I first met
Suzanne. I sat back in the chair, crossed my legs and studied her. Jane sat with
her hands in her lap, eyes down and I could hear her ragged breathing over the
music as I remembered another time and another place. "Have you ever wanted
to own someone, own them completely?" I said softly. "I do," I added,
realising it was true. "Of course, the person must want to be owned, to be loved
completely and to give up control. I believe that's you, isn't it?" I
watched her calmly as she rushed to gather her things, her hands shaking as she
shoved papers into her bag. "I'd better go," she croaked, jumping to her
feet and nervously looking around. "I know it's hard to recognize something
which we've buried deep inside ourselves but, sooner or later, you will." I
gazed at her steadily, casually sipping my wine. "I believe I asked you a
question?" I said firmly and her head jerked around, eyes wide. "I think you
came here tonight to answer that question." "Yes," she murmured, head down.
"Yes, what?" I snapped, placing my glass on the table beside me while she
looked at me in confusion. "I'll explain it once. When we are alone you
refer to me as Mistress or Madame, even Milady is acceptable while I will
simply call you slut.  Understand?" She looked at me open mouthed, standing
shakily against the door and her bag slipped to the floor. "Of course," I said
coldly. "I could be mistaken and you don't want me to own you. Nor do you
want me to control you and tell you what to do every moment of your life. Yes,
I could be terribly wrong and this could be a tragic mistake.  You should
scream at me, stomp out, rush off to that magazine and write a terribly nasty
article about me. Don't forget to slam the door on the way out." Leonard
had finished singing and the only sound in the room for a long moment was her
ragged breathing as she trembled before me. I stood in front of the fire
with my arms folded, just like Suzanne so long ago. "I think we both know," I
said quietly, "that this is not a tragic mistake.  Under that prim and
proper appearance, there lies a wanton slut who needs to be controlled and you
will prove it to me by lifting your skirt now to show me what you are wearing
underneath." Jane's hands were shaking as she slowly gripped the hem of
her skirt and started to raise it. I smiled in satisfaction. "Do not disobey
me again, slut," I snapped as she pulled the skirt to her waist and stood
there, revealed and trembling.  "No, Mistress," she croaked. (Yes, and Jane
came by with a lock of your hair She said that you gave it to her That night
that you planned to go clear Did you ever go clear?)
*****************************************************************************
So, this is where it
all started for me, my first story written completely by myself. It was
rushes of emotion, remembering many things and I am not yet brave enough to tell
you what is true and what is not; perhaps another time.  She is gone and she
would smile at the way our memories have pushed me into a different path. I
still miss her. Life is a cycle, women know this and we all grow and
change, become someone else, slip into an empty shell. I remember that night, the
night you left. Did you ever go clear?  Natalie
============================================================================

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