Sensitive Research Ch. 06

After a couple of minutes of rest, allowing time for her breathing to come back to normal, she lifted her body and then swung back off of me once again. She sat next to me on the bed, and reached out and ran her fingers through my hair that was now thoroughly soaked by her juices and my sweat. "Not bad, subbie, not bad."

She got off the bed, and headed toward the bathroom. Before she got there, she turned and said to me, "Don't go anywhere." She continued on, and a moment later, I heard the sound of her peeing, and then the toilet flushing. Following that, I heard the shower running.

I grabbed the towel she had given me before, and looking for any dry sections of it, did my best to clean her juices off of me once again. I sat up in the bed, slightly dazed, failing to comprehend how I got myself into this position. Just a day ago, I was a well-respected professor, conducting an important research project. And now I was a submissive lesbian slut, one who had serviced and been punished by two dominant women in the last 24 hours. And I was also conscious of the fact that I was incredibly aroused and frustrated that I still had not had an orgasm myself.

As I tried to come to grips with this, I heard Martha walking back into the room. She was naked but for a towel she was using to finish drying herself. I looked at the clock, and realized that I had only about an hour before my next appointment to interview another client of Lady Amber.

Martha must have seen me checking the clock, because she said, "Feel free to take a shower here, I know you don't have much time. There's a clean towel in the bathroom, and I put your skirt and panties on a hanger in there, they're dry."

I was a little surprised by this gesture of kindness. "Thank you, Mistress," I started to say, but she interrupted me.

"Our session is over Susan," she cut in. She smiled as she continued, "No need to call me 'Mistress' anymore." I started to question her, but she cut me off again. "Just get in there and get cleaned up."

I did as she said, getting off the bed and heading into the bathroom. Sure enough, I saw my skirt draped neatly on a hanger placed over a hook on the back of the bathroom door, and my panties laid out on a chair nearby.

I realized that I needed to pee badly, a sensation that I hadn't been aware of until this moment. I closed the door to the bathroom, and went and sat on the toilet. Just as I started to pee, I saw the door open, and Martha walked in, still naked and carrying the towel she had been using to dry herself. I stopped peeing immediately, shocked to have her walking in on me like this. She walked over to the rack, hung the towel up, and turned back toward me.

Looking at me, she said, "Don't let me stop you, my dear." I had been waiting for her to leave the room, but it was clear that she wasn't going anywhere. I resigned myself to having to relieve myself in front of her, and after a few seconds, the stream resumed and loudly splashed into the bowl below. Martha just stood there watching, and when I finished peeing, I waited again for her to leave. She simply stared at me, and shook her head no, and went and stood right in front of me, no more than a foot in front of my knees. I could again see her full bush, now all cleaned up, with her labia receding back and hidden in her pubic hair.

I sighed, and reached for the toilet paper. I crumpled it up, and spreading my legs, reached between them to wipe myself. This feeling of intimacy, her standing right in front of me, watching me clean my pussy after watching me pee, was immense. In some ways it was an intimacy that exceeded what we had just done in her bedroom, this knowledge that she had the power to watch me while I dealt with my bodily functions.

I got up, walked to the shower and started the water. I got in, and admitted to myself that it felt wonderful to wash all of the stickiness off of my body and out of my hair. I shampooed it twice, rinsed, and got out of the shower. The luxurious towel Martha had left for me felt equally good as I dried off. I found some talc on the counter and powdered up my body. I put on my panties and skirt, and walked back into the bedroom.

Martha wasn't there, so I put my bra and blouse on, slipped on my shoes, and went downstairs. I found her sitting in the room where the three of us had been earlier, flipping through a magazine.

As I walked in, she got up and came over to me. She put her hands softly on my cheeks, and pulling my head toward me, gave me a passionate kiss. She gently pushed her tongue into my mouth, rubbing it on my lips as she went, tasting them, and then tongue kissed me. She pulled away again, and stared into my eyes.

"I know what you're going through, Susan," she told me. "I've been there myself, that first realization that there is a part of you - a vitally important part of you - that you never knew existed. You live in another city, so I suspect this will likely be a one-off thing between us, never to be repeated. But if you want to talk about this, feel free to get in touch." With that, she handed me something she had been holding in her hand. It was her business card from the university, with a hand-written phone number on it. "That's my mobile number, feel free to call at any time."

Her kindness overwhelmed me, and I threw my arms around her neck and pulled her in close for a hug. "Thank you, Martha," I responded, and I truly was thankful. While much of what she put me through was incredibly difficult both physically and emotionally, I knew it was part of an important path in my own exploration. And I truly appreciated the caring she was demonstrating toward me.

I gathered my belongings and used my phone to call a cab. I kissed Martha lightly on the cheek, said good-bye, and stepped outside into the fresh air to await the cab.

**********

I made it to my next appointment just in time. It was another client of Lady Amber's, and I was nervous at first that she may have also been told of my experience the night before. But my worry was misplaced, as the interview went off without a hitch. There was nothing distinctive about her, she had experiences that I had heard bits of pieces of in other interviews. I wrapped it up and prepared to meet Tara at Lady Amber's a half hour before her 5:00 session.

I realized that I was famished, as I had had nothing to eat since our light breakfast earlier in the morning. I had a little bit of time, so I stopped into a sandwich place the next block over from where this woman lived. I gobbled down the sandwich and a bottled water, and then jumped into another cab to go to Lady Amber's townhouse in Lincoln Park.

As I pulled up, I saw Tara getting out of a cab just in front of me. I paid the cabbie, and we walked together up the steps to her front door. We were getting there about a half hour before the client, so we had a few minutes to talk to Lady Amber and get set up. I was once again nervous, given what had transpired with her last night. I didn't want Tara to find out anything about this, and I trusted Lady Amber to be discreet. But I was still nervous about how I would act in front of her, so I was very self-conscious as she answered the door and greeted both of us with a big smile. She gave me a hug, saying, "Welcome back," and shook Tara's hand and introduced herself. She was acting perfectly normal, and that helped calm me down and reassure me.

We sat in her parlor again, and she told us a little bit about the client who was coming. Nothing particularly remarkable, other than she was a bit younger than most of her clients, only 25 years-old, a graduate student herself at one of the local universities, and this would be her fourth session with Lady Amber. We had not yet had a chance to have her complete a survey, so we did not know anything else about her.

Lady Amber asked a bit about Tara's background, what she was studying in graduate school, and things like that. As I suspected, she was very discreet and gave no indication to either Tara or me as to what had happened yesterday.

Lady Amber told us that we would be allowed to be in her session room with this client. She explained that when she told her about our research project, and that we wished to observe some of her sessions, the young woman immediately volunteered and said that she was comfortable with us being directly in the room with the two of them. I thought to myself how different this generation is; when I was growing up, sexual acts were such a private thing, and even though I was coming of age during the gay rights revolution, relationships between couples of the same gender were even more closeted. I knew things were different today, both from listening to my students and by observing the campus culture. The student newspaper on my campus had a weekly sex column that discussed topics that a generation ago one would only find in a magazine like Penthouse or Playboy!

Tara and I gathered up our things and headed down to Lady Amber's session room in her basement. It was a good-sized room, probably 20 feet by 15 or so. It must have taken up a good portion of her basement, and was not what one would describe as a "dungeon" by any means. It had a warm, red-hued wallpaper, carpeting on the floor, and comfortable, upholstered furnishings. There were a couple of folding chairs in a corner that Lady Amber must have brought in for us, so we sat down in them and got out our laptops for taking notes.

About ten minutes later, we heard voices upstairs, and then heard footsteps descending toward us. Lady Amber walked in, followed by her client. She introduced her as Nicole, and she shook hands with the two of us. I knew Nicole was 25, but she looked like she could have been even younger, still an undergraduate. She was quite large, probably at least 200 pounds, though she was tall, taller than Lady Amber, Tara, or I, probably five feet nine or ten inches, so she carried the extra weight fairly well. She was wearing what looked like yoga pants and a t-shirt. Lady Amber had changed her clothes between when Tara and I headed downstairs and when her client arrived. She had been wearing a loose-fitting top and pair of leggings, but she was now wearing a tight black dress, very low-cut in the front, displaying quite a bit of cleavage, and the rest of the dress clung very tightly to her curves.

I handed Nicole the consent form and a pen, and asked her to review it and sign before she got started. She quickly glanced at it, scribbled her signature at the bottom, and handed both back to us. She asked me a couple of questions about our study, and told us that one of the reasons she had consented to be observed was that she was a sociology major. She would be doing her own research not too far down the road, so thought it would only be fair if she agreed to support someone else's study.

"Well, shall we get started," interrupted Lady Amber, clearly concerned that if she let the conversation continue it could go on for some time.

"Just a second," Nicole responded, and turning back to me, she asked, "Are you planning on videotaping this session?"

I was surprised at her question, because that was not something that we had planned on doing, largely because I did not think anyone in the study would ever consent to that.

"No, that was not part of our research protocol, why do you ask?" I responded.

"Oh, no reason in particular, I just figured that would be part of it, so you would have an archive of what occurred."

I thought about what she said for a quick moment. It would be interesting, I surmised, to have a video record to triangulate with the notes that Tara and I would be taking. We had not specifically included anything about videotaping in my application to the Institutional Review Board at the university, nor did it specifically prohibit such a record. I looked at Tara, and she was nodding her head enthusiastically.

"Well, we don't have a video camera, so I don't think we can," I said.

Tara quickly jumped in. "I could take notes by hand, Dr. Phillips, and use the webcam and microphone on my laptop to record," she said.

"Well," I hesitated for a moment, trying to buy time so that I could decide if this would be ethical or not. But then I thought, "Why not," and the worst case would be that we recorded it, and then decided to delete it later and not use it in the study. But I thought it could be a useful tool to assess the accuracy of our note taking by later comparing the notes to the video record. We could always go back to the IRB and amend our application.

"Do you have any objections?" I said, turning to Lady Amber.

"No," she responded, "as long as it will be used just for your research study and not seen by anyone other than Tara and you."

"Of course," I said, "Tara is my only research assistant on the project, so no one but the two of us would have access to it. I'll make sure that the file is protected with a password on my laptop, and at the end of the study, it will be destroyed.

"Then it's fine with me," Lady Amber answered.

I asked Tara to set up her laptop while I amended the consent form to allow for video recording. Tara went back to the chair she had rested her computer on, picked it up, and surveyed the room. She found a small cabinet in a far corner, placed it on the top, and then fiddled with the controls to get it set up to record as much of the room as possible, since we did not know where the action would be taking a place. She walked back to the chair and said, "All set."

"Okay, if you'll just sign here under the amendment I added, Nicole, we'll be all set." Nicole signed the form once again.

"Good," Lady Amber said, "let's get started." Tara and I took our seats, me with my laptop in my lap and Tara with a pad of paper and pen at the ready.

LA (as I called her in my notes) walked to what looked like a dresser against a wall, opened a drawer and removed something. She walked back to her client and said, "Nicole, assume your inspection position," and handed her the item in her hand. We could then see that it was a blindfold.

Nicole must have been well versed in what this meant because without hesitation, she lifted her t-shirt over her head, placing it on a small coffee table next to her. This exposed quite an impressive set of breasts encased in a plain, white lace bra. She then slid her pants down her thighs, exposing a matching set of white lace panties, and placed the pants on the table as well. I could see wispy curls of red pubic hair, slightly lighter than the red hair on her head, peeking out from behind the panties.

She turned to face LA, put on the blindfold, and placed her hands behind her head interlacing her fingers, spread her legs approximately three feet apart, and stood motionlessly. My chair was in front and slightly to the left of Nicole, so I had a good view of what was going on, and Tara was directly next to me.

LA walked over to her and circled her, occasionally touching different parts of her body, a light graze here, a stronger pinch there. Her client clearly knew the drill well, because she stood perfectly still, not reacting either verbally or physically to her mistress's touch. After circling four or five times, she stopped in front of her, their faces no more than a foot apart. "Very nice, my pet, you're following instructions very well. Now take off your bra."

Moving only her hands, Nicole reached behind her, and deftly unclasped the back of the bra in one swift motion. She shrugged the straps off her shoulders, letting the cups fall down from her breasts. They were even more extraordinary than when they were encased in the bra. Her areola were a pinkish-brown hue, perfectly smooth and each must have been a good four inches across, taking up much of the front of her tit. Her nipples were at least half an inch in diameter, and equally long, a maroon color, and appeared to already be aroused, standing out prominently almost begging for attention. She was a large woman, but still young, so that her breasts had little sag to them and stood up well high on her chest.

She handed the bra to LA, who still stood in front of her with her hand outstretched, and returned her fingers behind her head. LA tossed the bra on top of the other clothes on the coffee table. She reached out and began to roll her left nipple between her fingers. It did not appear that she was applying much pressure, just gently playing with it, and much to my amazement it began to stick out even further. It was not that I had seen many women's nipples before, either in person or in magazines, but I was not sure that I had ever seen any as large as these. LA did the same to the other, eliciting the same reaction. Nicole stood like a statue throughout.

Just as in many of the other sessions I had observed, I began to get aroused myself. My sense of excitement was only exacerbated by my own experiences the last 24 hours; I understood much better now just what these women were going through, the emotions they were feeling, the want in their bodies and minds. I was curious what impact this was having on Tara. I glanced at her, but she was largely unexpressive, furiously taking notes as the scene unfolded.

LA then reached down and lightly ran her fingers over Nicole's panty-clad pubic mound. She stood up, and placed her fingers under Nicole's nose. "Smell, my pet. Just as I expected, you're already aroused, just from this little bit of submissiveness you are displaying."

"Yes, Mistress," Nicole responded. LA knelt down, and placing her hands on either side of her hips, drew the lace panties down her legs. Nicole lifted one leg, then the other, allowing LA to pick them up. She rose, still standing right in front of her, and holding them in one hand, inspected them, rubbing them between her fingers.

"See, pet, I was right, your panties area already soaked. Open." Nicole responded by opening her mouth, and much to my shock, LA balled the panties up, and stuffed them into her client's mouth. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Tara looking at me, a somewhat shocked on her face as well, and I just gave her a small shrug of my shoulders, as if to say, "Just watch."

"Spread your legs further, I want better access to your cunt, pet," LA instructed. It wasn't easy for Nicole to comply, given the staunch nature of her thighs and legs, but she did her best to slide her feet another foot or so wider. LA reached down, and began stroking her client's pussy, first on the outside, but then I could see that she was pistoning first one, then two fingers inside of her. I could see that Nicole was beginning to react; she was not standing quite as stoically, and I could see a small quiver in her legs as she struggled to keep her them straight and immobile. Beads of sweat had started to form on her chest, and her breathing began to accelerate.

LA continue to ram her fingers in and out of Nicole's pussy for a few more minutes, adding a third one, and I thought her client would cum on the spot. I could see that her red pubes were soaked, the beads of her pussy juice glistening in the light of the room. But then LA stopped, pulling all three fingers out entirely, causing her client to gasp, "Please Mistress, I need to cum."

LA slapped one of her tits, hard enough to leave a mark. The tit flopped back and forth a few times. "No, slut, you'll cum when I say you can cum, and not before."

LA walked over to the dresser again, and reached into the drawer she had left open from before. She removed something small, and I once again could not see what she had in her hand. She walked back to the front of Nicole, and with one hand, grabbed one of her nipples between her thumb and forefinger, and yanked it outward. With her other hand, she opened the jaws of what I could now see was a large nipple clamp, and closed it over the extended nipple. I could see that Nicole was trying not to react, but a brief "Oggghh" escaped from her lips through her panties, before she was able to stifle it. LA then did the same to the other nipple, and knowing it was coming, Nicole was able to stifle a reaction this time. The two nipples were a darker shade of red than they had been before, with the pressure of the clamps on them.