The Dominafuhrer - THE GODMOTHER

Episode 13 - A Wench Is As Good As A Slut

The slamming of a door nearby made us both wake with a start. The room was in darkness and we bumped into other when I was searching for the light switch. When I was able to view the dial of my wristwatch, I called out in alarm to Kelly who was using the WC in the closet.

“It’s seven o’clock! You’d better go and help Mistress get dressed. That was probably her door slamming just now.”

Cursing to herself, Kelly found and donned her knickers, pulled on a sweater and a skirt, stepped into her shoes and rushed out, pecking me on the cheek as she passed.

I used the toilet myself, had another cigarette and then stripped off, put on my dressing gown and went for a lukewarm shower in the bathroom down the corridor.

On my return I did my hair and my make up in front of the dressing table mirror and then lifted one of the paper covered costumes out of the wardrobe. I shuddered when I read the label, then tore it off and threw it in the waste basket. With the paper cover off I discovered that I had a Georgian style dress in a very gaudy mauve colour but there seemed to be a lot of skirt and very little bodice. This was confirmed when I tried it on and found that I could not wear a bra or have any sort of support for my breasts without it being visible. Something else soon became apparent: the skirt was split to the waist at the front and back and my legs came into view when I walked as did my bum when I sat down. I had to make do with stockings, knickers and a roll-on corset for underwear and settle my modest sized breasts into the lace fringed cups of the bodice. I was just trying on a pair of very high heeled purple shoes when Kelly burst into the room.

She was stark naked, dripping wet and masking her genitalia with her bundled clothes.

“Shit, that shower is freezing!”  She dropped her clothes and began rubbing her body with a big towel. “Mistress’s was barely tepid as well, so I can tell you; Moll Flanders is not happy.”

“Is that her character?” I asked as I took a few steps to test my balance in the shoes.

“Yup, her costume’s like yours only more….” Kelly waved her hand up and down in front of her breasts. “We ended up squeezing her into a bust-less leather basque and taking off the shoulder straps. She could take someone’s eye out with her nipples if she sneezes.”

We both laughed as Kelly dropped the towel and looked through the costumes in the wardrobe. She lifted one down and frowned at the label. “Hey, what’s a Wench?”  She called out as she stripped of the paper to reveal a short brown tunic that would at least cover her shoulders.

“Where’s your knowledge of English?” I scoffed. “Have you never heard of: ‘Bring more ale, Wench!’ She was a usually a buxom female servant but the word occasionally described a prostitute as well.”

Kelly scowled and then looked up. “What’s yours called then? Where’s your label?”

I shook my head innocently but Kelly had spotted the paper slip in the basket and was reaching for it when I leapt on her damp and naked back. Kelly’s youth, strength and knowledge of Judo overcame my advantage of surprise and I was thrown sprawling onto the bed.

“Fannie Hill: Slut!” she shouted triumphantly as she read the label. “Now that’s what I call type casting.”

I coloured and sniffed. “Takes one to know one.”

Kelly picked her costume up of the floor where she had dropped in it in our tussle, laid it on the bed and began searching through the chest of drawers.

“I wish that they hadn’t emptied my suitcase,” she muttered. “I’ve got to pack it again in the morning. Here! Sort this out for me.” She threw a tangle of black leather straps and buckles at me and pulled on a black brassiere, suspender belt and stockings.

Once I’d sorted out her slave belt, I applied and spread lubricant on the black rubber butt plug and gently pushed it up her rectum. Kelly winced as her sphincter muscles stretched. “I hardly wear this now, just for occasions like this or when I’m working with Mistress.”

“It’s a good thing I brought my old one, if I’m slaving instead of you tomorrow night,” I said as fastened the belt around her waist and the straps around the tops of her legs.

Kelly looked down at me. “You don’t still wear it do you?”

I tapped the base of her butt plug. “I usually do when David’s away. It helps.”

I hand pumped Kelly’s penis into a full erection, pulled back the foreskin and buckled her swollen shaft flat against the leather plate covering the SS brand on her lower stomach. She hopped from foot to foot for a moment while she adjusted the leather straps around her testicles, pulled on a pair of black knickers, wriggled into her costume and then took her seat at the dressing table. She furiously brushed her long blonde hair down over her shoulders before starting to apply her makeup.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” I said as I sat on the end of the bed smoking a cigarette. “How’s this electrolysis working out?”

“Great!” Kelly turned towards me with her powder puff in her hand. “Come and have a look before I cover it up.” 

I leaned over and examined her cheeks, spotting some red patches of skin that looked like orange peel with a few wiry wisps of white hair curling out of them. Most of the rest of her face seemed bristle free although there were one or small pits and scars.

Looks good,“ I mused. “Does it hurt?”

“You bet,” Kelly applied plenty of powder over the red patches. “To the purse as well. They can only do a small area at a time and then go back over it again later but I’ve been having it done for a year and my face and neck are almost clear. It’s painful and it’s expensive but it’s worth it. You should try it. The only problem is that you can’t shave before and after a session so you won’t be able to go out of your house.”

I pondered on that while Kelly finished her make up with a glossy red lipstick and then fastened her slave collar around her neck. She stood up, stepped into her shoes and then looked at herself in the mirror.

“This isn’t going to work. Whoever designed these costumes liked the sight of breasts.”

The hem of her short brown tunic was brushing the tops of her thighs but the split down the front went well below her cleavage, exposing her black brassiere, and there were no fastenings to draw the two sides together. We tried moving up the sash that went round her waist but that had no so, after a great deal of wriggling, Kelly removed her brassiere and threw it on the bed.

“Well, let it all hang out, that’s what I say. Give me a cigarette before we go and collect Mistress. What’s the time?” 

“Ten to nine,” I glanced at my wristwatch as I lit one of my cigarettes for her. “Shame we didn’t have time for a blow job.”

Kelly blew out a stream of smoke and gave me a sideways look.

“Yup, I fancied one as well but thank you for the fuck. It means a lot me to know that you love me enough to ask me to take the husband’s role.”

I nodded silently and felt a sob rising in my chest. How could I love two people so much? Was I really a slut and not just wearing the dress of one?

Kelly extinguished her cigarette and stood up as I popped the packet and lighter into my handbag.

“Come on,” she said taking my hand. “Let the orgy commence.”

To continue this story, click Moll Mulls It Over

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